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Sea Girl was my love.She liked to tie feathers,
In strawberry blonde hair
So silver, and blue topaz,
Shone in late afternoon sun,
She trespassed in graveyards
Overlooking the sea,
Smiled, and pretended to jump;
Then fly away.
To her mother's despair,
She'd shake her head
Onyx curls escaping,
Muttering profanities under breath.
She liked to tie feathers,
In strawberry blonde hair,
Watching them flutter
Like baby chicks,
Pecking at porcelain skin,
She was a wild girl,
At least at heart.
Wished never to be caught,
For even rooms became cages,
Wrought iron and wood.
I found her cliff walking
At day break, her lilting voice
Echoing over rock; back
To where birds nests lay.
"Peter, oh Peter, what am I to do?
Things are still changing,
And I'm falling for you."
Blankly I stared,
Unsure of the words to fix her.
(her and her blue grey braids)
I stood for too long,
Gazing out to sea,
Searching for my feathered foe.
My one true, sweetest love.
My sea girl.
All For YouThe cold, silent whispers inside your head
They eat away at you day by day.
And the soft, gentle words you think of
Are always ripping away at your unprotected soul
All you really need to make these things just go away, is someone like me
If you feel lonely and hurt inside
Then just call me
If you feel mad and there's doubt inside
Then don't worry
All you need is a hand to protect you
So just yell out my name and say you need me
The disgusting faces that I saw you make at yourself in the mirror
Just find their way on your every-day smiles
And the feelings that you get when you sit alone
Are always tearing away at your unconscious mind
All you really need to make it disappear, is someone to hold you
If you feel alone and used
Then just call me
If you feel sad and there's doubt inside
Then don't worry
All you need is someone to just love you
So simply whisper my name and say you need me
Why must things always be this way?
You're always crying, every single day.
If this is how you feel, j
If I Die YoungIf I die young,
take out my worn down,
with the love letters
to my angel
sapphire and crimson ink.
Give my journals to my mother,
so she can see
the inside of my mind,
for a few hours,
and know that
I adored her.
Let my dog,
sleep on my bed
to make up for all the times
I never let him in.
Give my daddy
all my cameras and memory cards
to let him see
all the times I wished
that he was there.
Send my grandmother
everything I ever wrote
fine point Sharpie
to show her that
I still think about Grandpa
Then tell God,
or whoever put me here,
that I'm sorry
for not giving Him
a second chance.
Elle and Mias: Chapter 37Elias was being oddly cooperative when the party returned to the castle and Hilda informed her elder sister about their new 'guest'. Helga wasted no time throwing him into a prison cell; she didn't even bother to interrogate him. And Elias didn't fight or even object. He might have been fatigued, but that didn't explain his sudden mellow demeanor.
"I don't know what you're up to," Elle said to him from beyond the prison bars. "But I'm sure it's nothing good."
"Heh," his lips curved into a smile. "I just thought I'd pay my long lost sister a visit. I didn't expect you to be here, ruining my good name."
"Your name is as filthy as you are," Elle said bravely. "Your sister's better off not knowing she has a man like you for a brother."
"I'm well aware of Elias," a deep female voice spoke up and Elle turned to see Helga escorting Ia into the cell ward.
Now that Elle got a clear look at the woman, it was obvious she was a Dormaeus what with her dark hair and custom eye markings. She carried
Elle and Mias: Chapter 57Elle turned her nose to the autumn wind and let a current of wheat scented air waft into her tiny nostrils. After sighing happily, she pointed the stalks out to Berenos. "This section is ripe!"
"Alright!" Berenos called back to her.
Elle smiled and brushed a bit of dirt off her cheek.
Four months had passed since their return from the northland and life overall had been uneventful. Mias was busy enjoying the prospects of being an undergarment conglomerate and taking the Dormaeus family in a new direction. Mias' ties with his sister in Noric also put him in position to represent his region when the embassy got together to discuss politics. He was becoming quite a powerful man without needing to use his magic.
The Stag brothers busied themselves fostering Fionos. Elle saw the three frequently enough and often stayed with them when Mias had business errands he had to tend too. Today was one of those days. She was busying herself helping them with the harvest of their crops.
"I never thoug
Elle and Mias: Chapter 38"ACHOO!" Abernos sneezed and promptly wiped his finger under his nose as he and Viola followed a frost covered trail without the assistance of Leadbury's nose to guide them. "Gah that Leadbury..."
"It can't be helped. He doesn't have fur to insulate his body," Viola said calmly as she marched on ahead of him. "How can you complain of the cold? I'm having no difficulty."
"You're clearly not a normal woman," Abernos sniffled and rubbed his mitten covered hands together for warmth. "How are we supposed to pinpoint Elle without Leadbury's nose anyway? All he told us was to continue heading north."
"Weren't you supposed to be optimistic Mr. Abernos?"
"Not when it's this cold out," he trotted to catch up with her. "Speaking of optimism, you have an interestingly high degree of confidence Miss Viola."
"Because it's all a little too coincidental. We believe Elias was heading to Noric and based on Leadbury's tracking that appears to be where Elle is as well. I'm willing to bet their paths
Elle and Mias: Chapter 40"You summoned me?" Elias asked as he entered a large study where his younger sister sat scribbling notes at a desk.
"Yes, kindly take a seat," Ia said without looking up from her work.
Elias casually approached the table and sat opposite of her.
"How are you enjoying your stay?" She asked, her eyes and hand still concentrated on writing.
"In all honesty I wish you would have kept me in prison," Elias groaned.
Ia chuckled, "Is that so?"
"What is this about? Surely you didn't summon me simply to exchange pleasantries."
"And why not? I've been so preoccupied with my duties that I haven't been able to visit you. Is it so rare for you to be suspect of your family?"
"When it's the Dormaeus family, yes," he responded coldly. "If this is just frivolous conversation, I shall take my leave."
As he stood to leave Ia smacked him back into his seat with her quill. "Sit. You have no matters here that acquire your attention so you will remain in my presence until I dismiss you. Or are you eager to re
A Turning Point in the Clockwork WarA war of attrition
depends on supply and drawdown,
how much you have and how much you use up.
With personnel, the balance concerns
the influx of recruitment versus
the outflow of casualties, deserters, invalids.
There is only so much loss
that a fighting force can sustain
and still fight.
Pilot Claude Archer was the first
to challenge his invalid discharge.
"I don't need legs to fly," he said,
patting the healed stumps of his thighs.
"My Osprey runs on elbow grease."
The members of the discharge board
paused and looked at each other.
What he said was true.
The Osprey-class fighter jets
relied on hand controls,
and a sharp eye and iron nerve.
Fingers flicked through the stack
of discharge papers -- so many, many pages.
So many soldiers lost, never to fight again.
They could not afford to let slip even one
who might be retained, somehow,
to face the front line once more.
Far less could the war effort spare
one of its best pilots.
So they put Pilot Archer back on the roster,
may as well buy another packcollapse, and breathe into the carpet:
sunday mornings are not
for falling apart, but damn
the amphorics, this
is not an atmosphere.
you fell in love like you always
wish you didn't, made all their
smiles replaceable, interchangeable,
fell asleep with shadows and kept
drinking, just letting yourself sleep
with blue pills
and tried not to scream.
(keep this image in your head:
fire and nectarines, a sudden jerk
of realization, inspiration
breaking your neck and leaving you forever
breaking bones is not so different
from breaking hearts - it's all about
the leverage, the angle, the mode
(and at least it wasn't personal;
it can color in your own guilt
for starting lines and never ending
The Panic Room (A Supernatural One-Shot)“Dean…? Dean?”
The name felt like lead on Sam’s tongue, so thick and heavy that he wasn’t sure if the syllable had actually made it past his lips.
The only reason he was aware of something cutting into his neck was the trail of red that was marking a small pathway against the stark fabric of his shirt. The dark suit and tie that usually accompanied the white-collared look were missing, but he couldn’t remember why.
His brother’s name seemed to drop soundlessly into the dark space before him. Everything felt heavy. Dull. Maybe he was dreaming.
But dreams shouldn’t smell of dust and abandonment. They shouldn’t be framed by cobwebs and wallpaper so aged that their floral design has faded into funeral bouquets. They shouldn’t have flickering candlelight and robed figures looking down on you.
No, dreams shouldn’t be like that.
But Winchesters don’t have dreams. They have nightmares. Sam smile
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