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StringsYou play your song well
Expertly, your fingers manipulate
The tiniest, most delicate
Strings of my heart
If you carelessly break one
Who is to know but the instrument?
Your music is my sigh
My melancholy moods
The thoughts of you
That cannot be shaken
From a tortured,
What would happen, were I
To stay your hand
And bring it to my lips?
Can I touch your strings?
Can I caress them and
Let you hear the melody they might hold?
It’s unwitting, though
This song you make
You know not that you hold the tool
You know not that you pluck the strings
And that your sure touch
Is the making and undoing of me
So, to interrupt it
With my trembling fingers
Which so long to explore your every chord
Would be to destroy the beautiful pain,
The unknowing, unwanting perfection
As you snap the string in your grasp
A StoryAlready, I am sick their affections
Bearing down on me as they do.
Can they help it?
Do they know how pathetic
Every awkward, dawdling step seems
Formed by those fleshy feet,
Guttural noises emitting from a misshapen snout.
How is it that
I, a superior being in every way
Just cannot bear a day without their stupid,
ApocalyptomaniaWe held hands as the world crashed down
Tumbling in and out of control
Strange; for once we weren't afraid
No more plans to be made
Hold me while the atmosphere
Alights all that we hold dear
So it's just you and me
Free of all the little things
Like cars and dogs and wedding rings
The ash isn't quite like snow
But baby, we still have no place to go
So let it
A Lack of SentimentalityYou gave me bitter almonds
Plain like winter leaves
And told me that you love me
Yet I clearly asked for berries
Red as desire and chocolate kissed
From where did the idea come
To bring the jar of honey
A sweetened, cheapened sentiment
Compared to the gold ring I eyed
Last Sunday when we walked the town
So take your foolish, childish gifts
And find another lover
And I shall spend St. Val's day
Dreaming of sweets and shiny, romantic things
Alone as I always do
the lost spirits
look in our windows.
Thousands of perfect
frozen like stone
on the people
with their life
Daddy!LevixChild!Reader - The Hard Stuff
Levi looked down at his daughter. She stood timidly near the doorway, fiddling with the large towel in her hands. Her hair was still soaked from the bath she had taken not minutes ago, and droplets of water fell from the glossy strands and onto her yellow nightgown.
“What, _____?” he said in his usual cold tone, though _____ knew it wasn’t completely intentional.
The six-year-old looked down at the peach-colored towel clutched in her tiny fingers. “U-Um, Mommy always helps me dry my hair. . .”
Levi sighed softly and sat up on the couch, motioning _____ to come closer. When she did, he sat her down on the floor in front of him and took the towel from her hands. He spread the towel over her small head and gently massaged it through the towel. He wrapped the towel around her long strands and proceeded to knead the water out of them.
“Daddy, where’s Mommy?” _____ asked, turning her head to look at her father.
BertholdtxReader - Cynophobia [AU]
cynophobia - (n.) the fear of dogs
“Man, how long has it been since you’ve been to my house?”
“A month, I think,” Bertholdt replied from the front passenger seat as I drove down the empty road.
“Seems like more to me,” I commented, propping an elbow on the armrest between me and my friend. “I think my parents are still at work, so we’ll probably be alone with Maes.”
“Maes?” he said, confused.
“Oh, yeah. I didn’t tell you? I got a dog a couple weeks ago.”
I felt Bertholdt freeze beside me. “A-A dog?”
“Yeah. A two-year-old pit bull.” I turned into my neighborhood and relaxed into the seat when I slowed down the car. “I thought you knew. Even Levi knows—and now he refuses to come over now because he thinks my place is completely covered in dog crap.”
Bertholdt made what sounded like a forced chuckle, rubbing his hands on his pant legs. “S-So, um,
The InfomercialThe Infomercial
(This story is from the upcoming MagnusMagneto Musclethology #1. It's a collection of three short stories that will be given exclusively to those who support me on Patreon. These stories will be even more whimsical than my usual stuff, foregoing character development and scientific explanations for more light-hearted fare.
If you want access to this story in PDF format along with two more tales of similar length and light-hearted tone, consider becoming a Patron of mine before July 31st! http://www.patreon.com/magnusmagneto
There are also a few references/homages to other FMG works/authors and the femmuscle community in general. All done out of total respect and admiration. See how many you get!)
“Welcome folks to the infomercial event of the year!” A tall, attractive woman with bright auburn hair and piercing blue eyes faced the camera with a bright, white smile. She wore skimpy blue workout clothes
Death Battle: Scorpion vs. Hellboy
Roy: Alright the combatants are set, we have taken every angle into account and we have found ourselves a verdict.
Ivan: Let us watch the Hellfire ninja attempt to break his streak.
Roy: So, it's time for a Death Battle!
Ivan: So enthusiastic...
Roy: What? Just because I stole your line-
Ivan: IT'S TIME FOR A DEATH BATTLE!!!!
It was quiet that night. No one was out of their home, probably because of the big red demon walking about. Hellboy stepped out of a nearby pancake house, the owner watching his demonic customer exit the restaurant. His breath reeked of pancakes and beer.
Hellboy pulled out a wrinkled and folded-up piece of paper. It had "DEATH BATTLE" written at the top. Hellboy looked at it as he found the opponents name on the paper.
"Scorpion." Hellboy read aloud as he checked the area. He didn't see anything. Meanwhile in the depths of hell a yell was heard. A yellow clad ninja walked out of a blazing fire, a chain hanging from his arm. It was Scorpion.
Tell me story"Why you read zat book, hmm?"
Victor had come to pay a visit to his Princess, whom he had found up in her library -as always- reading her afternoon away. Though he rather liked it when she read, especially when she read aloud to him. The sound of her voice was always soothing (and exotic, with that accent she had) and he always found it a treat when she offered to read to him.
So after she chose a book, they had left the libary and gone to her room, where she gathered up her pillows and made a sort of nest for them. Oh, this he really liked. Not so much the pillows (too soft for his taste) but more that he got to snuggle up next to her.
His finger curled and uncurled her strand of hair idly, resting his chin upon her shoulder as he looked over the words of her books. So many words, and no pictures? How did she stand to read so much without pictures?
"I's one o' mah favorites in this book." was her answer, holding up the large book, the title of 'Grimms Fairytails' written across it. "I
TG Caption This: It Was In School's Mystery Meat?!
"A cheeseburger please," said the girl across the counter. I happily handed her the burger and let the next person come up.
"I'll take the ham," said the next guy. I pulled the slice of ham out of the tray it was warming up in, and stuck it on the tray.
"Would you like some potatoes with that?" I asked. The guy shook his head and walked down to the drinks.
"I'll take the chicken, and can I have his potatoes?" asked the girl behind him who stepped up to the counter.
"Protocol says I shouldn't, but I'll make an exception just for you." I said with a wink.
The girl laughed. "You're the best Tom! Let's hang out after school."
Student after student came up and ordered each of our school's dishes. Sure enough, by the end of my shift, all food was gone except for the one dish nobody every ordered - the mystery meat. There were some pretty bad rumors as to what was really inside of it. Some said it was the ground up body of the old superintendent, some said it was the foreskins of newborn babi
AmericaXReader: Unexpected Courage “Where is he?” you questioned as you stood in front of the bus stop waiting for your friend. He wanted you to meet him there because he had something “really fun” planned for the day. It was five o’clock when you finally saw him running toward you.
“Hey, dudette! Sorry for the wait,” he bent over softly panting, “it’s just that-”
“It’s fine, Alfred. I just want to know what you have planned,” you looked into his blue eyes with excitement.
“Okay, but you have to close your eyes,” he winked at you.
Penny and The Spider“Three. Two. One. DRINK!” Jana Glushakov squealed excitedly before she and her group of friends eagerly gulped back their multi-coloured shots of tequila. She downed it in one, then briefly stuck out her tongue to get rid of the aftertaste. “Whew, I always forget how strong they make them here,” Jana giggled.
“Want another birthday girl?” her friend and housemate Harmony asked Jana after she finished her own shot. “It’s my turn to buy a round in.”
Jana shook her head, “No let’s wait until the next bar. Besides I’ve got half a Long Island Ice Tea to finish.”
Jana’s friends tried to persuade her otherwise, but the birthday girl, nineteen that very day, had made up her mind. The beautiful blonde haired girl of Russian origin was having too much fun to care what her fellow university students thought. She intended to last the whole night, and the City of London was to
Full Danging drops glaimed me, grabbed at my hair with igy fingers until I gould go no more. Winded, weary, I fell to the earth with a gry. The mud sugked and smagked, a stigky embrage that held me to it even as I struggled to free a leg, a hand, a limb that hadn't so gallously abandoned the form it onge galled master. It was fear, then, that found me. Madness, too. Gan the best of us glaim to be free of weakness? Gan the best of us resist the urge to gry when we've disgovered the endmost limits of our resolve?
Exhaustion threatened to drag me, heavy, into the very bosom of the Earth. I finally gave up the fight for good. The darkness reaghed for me and I welgomed it, too tired to gontinue with this farge.
"Damn you, Ghinese food." I gursed softly as I sank slowly into the abyss.
Teenage TaoismGiving birth is the closest I’d ever felt to dying.
Before that, my near death experiences had consisted only of my silent announcement of pregnancy—silent, being that my social media accounts were all deleted almost simultaneously and I never returned to school in the fall, saying without really saying that I had caught the malicious disease of “teenage pregnancy”. I’m sure the whisper spread in the hallways like the Bubonic Plague. That September, sitting at home on what would have been the first day of my senior year, I imagined friends I’d never talk to again saying “she was only seventeen, and so full of life!” at my absence in the cafeteria tables, as if they were attending my funeral instead of talking about me behind my back.
"Full of life," I had snorted then, folding a never ending stream of what had once been my own baby clothes. "Literally."
I walked around like a zombie for the months of my pregnancy, deciding t
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