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ImpressionsYou wasted a lot of hours wondering, didn't you? Breaking the very pointless into the extremely pointless, and degrading the extremely to the impossibly. But I can assure you, that no matter how pointless those thoughts are, the action itself holds meaning. To reduce everything in this world to rubble is to understand the universe at a primal level.
At first, I feel inclined to regret it. To advise you not to do it. Yet, I know such a request would be superfluous and even counter-intuitive. After all, I know you like I know myself. I know that such a warning would not deter you, but riddle you with curiosity until making you shatter in one prolonged episode of moral depravity.
So I won't tell you to stop. In fact, I will tell you the opposite. Do it. Do it as quick as you can. As much as you can. As healthy as you can. The sooner you discover the truth that I wish I could have never known, the sooner you can get past it. The sooner you can accept it. Your life doesn't have to be
VoicesYou're one of the most fascinating people I know.
Really. It's true!
But that doesn't make you good. It doesn't make you right, either Maybe I'm not the person to make that call, since I don't really know what either of those things are; however, I'm confident they are not you.
You live a very ironic existence, don't you? Purposeless and apathetic. Only finding motivation in the petty and the depressing. And you wonder why you hate life. You've never lived a day of it. You watch other people live it, and you wish you had what they have But you can't. You can't ever be like them, can you?
See! That's why you're so interesting! Anybody different is met with curiosity. Anything that breaks the norm is a learning experience.
But some people are different and typical at the same time. They have these unique quirks about them that make them seem interesting on the first glance; but it is only upon close examination does one realize how typical they really are.
I have trouble with
Sewer ManIt felt instantaneous. As if I had gone to sleep normal, and woke up deranged. As if in a single moment, I had become what I am. I don't deny it, either my being deranged, that is. Any man, and I use the term "man" loosely, is deranged if they stray too far from the social focal point; and by God have I done that much!
It started as a fascination, grew to be an active interest, and eventually became what I recognize to be an obsession. I even remember the day that I completely regarded myself as obsessed or rather, deranged. I remember my insanity became so consuming that I submitted my humanity to it. Yes, that is why I use the term "man" loosely, because I often question if I am one.
To me, a "man" is one who thrives in social environments. There are odd balls, but even those who are troubled are still "man." However, sometimes you get these exceptions. You get these transgenders. These people who may or may not have social skills, just as a male in a female's body may
Note to SelfYou. Yes, you. This note has been written specifically to you and its contents are of the utmost importance.
Why should you trust me?
I am you from the future.
If you tell anyone this note exists, they either won't believe you or they won't understand the significance. The words will mean nothing to the stubborn and will be impossibly dilute to the gullible. You are alone in this.
I have written this to warn you.
In exactly thirteen minutes, you will die. You need to evacuate your home as quickly as possible. Once again, if you don't, you will die.
I don't have the time to explain the complex series of events that have led up to this moment, just realize that this is a matter of life and death for us both. Do not throw our life away. Please, get out immediately.
If you don't want to leave, AT LEAST turn on all the lights you can find. Then there is a chance it won't find you. A slim chance.
Before I end this message, I must stress what I said earlier: I am you from the future. I
A Pocket Full of SkyWhen I was young, my father would take me to the highest tower of Notre Dame precisely once a year. It would be cold. Freezing. But we'd stand there, and take deep breaths of air, and peer down, towards the tiny ants of people below. Down, towards the sprawling city beneath us. It was always winter, when we'd go. Always cold. Freezing, freezing. But however cold it was, and however dull and bleary the weather, my father would ask one thing, and one thing only: that we adhered to tradition.
"Lucie," he would say, with the fond smile and kind eyes I always remember. "Lucie, my peach. Whatever you become, and wherever your heart and mind leads you, you must always do for me one small, beautiful thing take a handful of the sky, and place it in your pocket. Take a handful of the sky, and remember, always, that your feet need not always be imprisoned to the ground. Anything you could ever wish for, Lucie, can be yours but only if you study hard, and always feel the freedom of t
Thief!Denmark x Police!Reader - Unexpected Truth
Mathias Køhler. Supposedly in his twenties and known for his work as a thief. He is marked as a wanted man and my first target as a new policeman. I had joined the force a while back and had just finished my training. I was then moved to as a new recruit and had come face-to-face with my first job. Scanning the thief's profile one more time with a quick glare, I turned it back over to my boss.
"So why me, sir?" I asked a bit bluntly as I twiddled my fingers nervously behind my back. Hey, it was my first time doing this, I should be nervous.
"Well seeing on how you're one of our new recruits, I had given you this mission since it would be not as challenging to handle. As you saw in his files, the man has done hardly any harm to the public and has only been pick pocketing behind their backs. A simple job for a rookie like you to catch him red-handed." My boss had explained as he was cleaning his glasses.
"How will I be able to approach him without him slipping away? I'm sure
Force FeedingIt was early morning. The last tray of food was placed on the table. Amy's ruby lips formed a small arch of excitement. After all of the money, time and effort she had managed to construct a banquet large enough. Before her were three tables, piled high with assorted goodies. Cakes, biscuits, pastries, sweets. Enough confectionary to kill, she thought, but she had no intention of dying. This thin woman wanted to eat, and the urge was so powerful that she had to leave the room simply to avoid surging into one of the gorge mountains. Now in the kitchen, she returned to the open book on the side counter. It was a telephone directory, open at a section entitled "Plumbing Services." She took out her phone and dialled.
Mark's whistle was shrill and tuneless. He was not whistling because he had a catchy tune stapled to his mind. He was not whistling because he enjoyed it. He was whistling because the street was gravely silent, and silence scared him. There was but one house, and it was choked
The World's Greatest ActorThe World’s Greatest Actor, now a father, prepared lunch for his three children. Humming to himself happily, he slathered pieces of bread with peanut butter and jelly. He put them each into individual plastic containers, then the containers into brightly coloured cloth bags along with plums and juice boxes. He wanted to make sure they ate healthy but enjoyed what they ate. He was rewarded with their smiles when his three children came running in. An elder girl in grade two, followed by a twin boy and girl who were in kindergarten, greeted him. He said good morning and picked them all up in a bear hug, kissing them each on the forehead. They laughed and ran to eat their breakfasts, cereal which he had poured for them. When they were done, he followed them up the stairs to make sure each one of them brushed their teeth, washed their hands, and picked up their school bags. He watched them shove their carefully packed lunches into their bags and run out the front door. He stood with
The Silo Complex"You won't believe what I just saw in the field."
I sighed at Eloise in the doorway. "Another dead raccoon? How big was it this time? You know it's just maggots, right?"
"No, that wasn't it. I saw a man."
"Was it John?"
"It was a man, but it wasn't really a man. Almost a man."
"Almost a man?" She had recently taken to wandering in the fields under gray skies, thinking that she'd find her answers among the abandoned farm equipment and rows of dried corn husks. She never did. Just raccoons. I never heard anything about men who were almost men. "How can someone be almost a man?"
"Never mind. You don't believe me."
"Just tell me what he looked like."
"He looked like smoke."
I didn't realize what she meant until the next day when a woman who was almost a woman appeared outside the back door, peering through the window. She was in the form of a woma
Morgan (Redone) Part 1(XWG, SSBBW, overeating)
(This story is based on a work over at the Dimensions forums that was not only abandoned, but which had serious flaws to begin with. I know it's often arrogant to say "I could write better than this," but this is a case where I felt it was plainly obvious. So, I've redone the story in my own vision. I also have an idea for Part 2 where things really get out of control, which I'll probably post only here because the Dimensions forums don't usually get that kind of stuff. Hopefully it won't take long before I write and post Part 2, but feel free to bug me if a month goes by and there's nothing.)
“What, there won’t even be any cake?” Morgan asked incredulously.
“No. Especially not a cake,” her mother answered calmly, folding laundry “You’re turning 18 tomorrow, so I can’t control what you eat, but I won’t let you stuff yourself. If having a cake is that important, you can buy your own.”
“But I d
Revenge [Sollux Captor]
It was there again, that horrible feeling of guilt that haunted me. Yes it was wrong what was happening, but it felt so good. He stared at me, his blue and red eye with a sad look in them. His eyes always enchanted me, they were beautiful. My [h/c] was being stroked by him, I could feel it, his warm touch on my head reminded me off the fact that I was still alive. It calmed me down to feel his hands going through my hair like that, yet it couldn't stop what was happening right now, it all went to fast, he could just watch as I slipped away, and left him forever. The thing was, that my health and body where always weak, and I was doomed to die anyway, but the fact that the end pulled me away from my love wasn't going to stop me from saving him, it was my own choice. I had loved his lisps and didn't want to lose him not my Sollux, not after he confessed that he loved me, and asked me to be his matesprit. He stared into my [e/c] eyes and I saw tears in his
Mono.One morning a black pillar appeared in the center of town, within the boundaries of the park and right outside of the library. It stood at least thirteen feet tall and was as wide as a mature oak. They deduced it was made out of some kind of polished stone. Some guessed it was obsidian; others argued it was too strong to be such a fragile stone. It could have been granite, but when was the last time you saw black granite in that quantity, and in that shape?
"We should knock it down and drag it away!" someone shouted.
But they were too afraid to touch it.
"Why not just leave it here?" another suggested.
But they wondered what would happen if they didn't do anything at all.
Whoever put it there didn't do it alone. They'd need a truck to transport the thing, and they'd need some way to get it off the flatbed and stand it up straight. But why go to all of that trouble for a pillar of rock? Or was it part of someth
Overindulged It was summer, and a mildy chilly night was coming to its end. A young girl, hidden within her humble apartment, was indulging in the treasures she had summoned from her own kitchen . She quickly became a slave to her own stomach, pandering to its needs and massaging it whenever it stirred. Although already thick, curved and well-filled it remained ever-so demanding, and whenever she wasn't stuffing her face with food she could feel it crying out for more. One luscious treat was soon followed by the next, and as time progressed she found herself taking more pleasure from the feelings within her belly than from the food itself. She sucked the cream from her fingers, licked the grease from the rim of the bowl, but found that nothing could compare to the ecstasy of having an overfilled gut. She could feel her body becoming thicker after each bite, each mouthful, and she often paused to stroke her navel in the hope that she could feel it expanding.
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Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More