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Ave Stella Maris et Regina CaelorumHail Mary, full of grace-
I'm sorry. I don't remember the rest.
Maybe if I did then the idea of prayer wouldn't feel so much like begging.
The lessons I am told you mean to teach are not the lessons I have learned, and I do not think I was meant to be a martyr.
I have always dealt with my problems by building towers in my head to hide from them in, castles in the air that solve nothing and do not hinder anyone but myself. I am not brave. I am not kind. And I have been hurt so often that I do not think anyone will ever love me, because while broken things are beautiful, I have never been anything more than passably pretty since I was just walking, and there is not enough left of me to hold anything more than indifference. I have never loved easily, and I have never been loved by someone who was not obligated by blood to do so, and I do not know which one broke me first.
Once upon a time there was a little mermaid who dreamt of a soul of her own, and lost everything for it. Disney offere
I was only interested in keeping you safeDo you remember when we were fourteen, and you were in love with that girl's older brother? He was eighteen, the older man you'd always wanted, and he'd been courting you, or so you thought. You wanted him to kiss you, to hold your hand and show you what it meant to be a woman, not a girl. I told you to stay away from him, because I knew he'd already kissed my cousin, and she hated herself now, enough that she'd come to me crying and I had held her all night against the knives in the kitchen.
You thought I was jealous, that I wanted him too.
He was very beautiful. You talked about how hot he was, how strong and sexy his arms were. I talked about the dimple above his mouth and the echo of his cheekbones and the fine lines of his hands. I said I wanted to carve him open and discover the curves of his bones; you thought that meant I wanted to sleep with him, and tried to start a fight with me.
I wanted to kill him.
To that boy I used to knowNathaniel;
It rained again this morning. I went walking alone, down the misty road that leads toward town, and didn't mind the cold. The leaves have started falling, and the maple tree at the bottom of the hill stands bare, like it did the day you left. Maple trees will always make me think of you, with the wistful half-remembrance of a love gone by, even years into the future when we are both old and gray, living our separate lives without ever once meeting again.
I did love you, you know, even though we were just children; I don't think you believed me then, and have probably forgotten me by now, but I think I love you still, in some quiet way.
I still count the day you kissed me, under the maple tree in the back corner of the field below the playground, as one of the happiest days of my life. We'd been walking together, just the way we had every day since the day you smiled at me and took my hand across the space between our desks, my friends tittering as we wandered in wide, endles
TSP: AuditionThere were two people already in his office when Isaac opened the door that morning, a dark haired young woman in a flannel nightgown, quilted jacket draped over her shoulders, seated on the edge of his desk, and a red-head, stripped down to her shirtsleeves, apron tucked up at her hips, absently shuffling the pile of papers he'd left on the bookcase as they held a whispered argument.
"-really leave. Not till this afternoon-" the redhead was muttering under her breath, tapping the papers firmly against the wood so that they settled into a neat stack, probably alphabetized within an inch of their life by her furious efforts at organization.
She turned, startled, the inside of her knees pressed against the edge of his desk in a way that had to be painful, and pulled the jacket more securely around herself. The maid, (what was her name?) dropped the papers back on the shelf, already half in a defensive position, though what she intended to do with his least favorite novel
Anachronism: Introduction'Filthy whore! Selling herself for the price of a bed, without a care for the bodies she leaves behind. She'll bleed for that, the slut, her and all her kind.'
Emmaline Jones eyed the woman across the street, the handles of her bag clutched tightly in her hand. She'd been lucky, when she got out of prison. Her sister had taken her things before the neighbors could, and she'd been able to go back to her trade immediately. There was still the little matter of the whore who had betrayed her, after she'd killed the baby in her womb, but that could be taken care of. would be. Soon, even.
The couple retreated into an alley, Emmaline following, skulking in a doorway until the man came out again. Now was the time to be quick, open the bag and select a knife by the feel of the handle, slip into the shadows before she could leave as well, find another customer who might be a bit better off.
The whore had one hand down her corset, hiding her money where even the lightest fingered of client
TBOS Round 1The pub is warm and dimly lit, shadows pooling where the scattered lamps and firelight don't reach. Alice knocks the snow off her boots (one, two, pause, shuffle, one, two, an extra shake for good measure), before she steps inside, throat tightening against the smell of smoke and old brandy that permeates the air. On a frosty night like this, barely an empty seat remains, most of those simply waiting for their occupants to return from the bar. Alice feels very small as she makes her way through a forest of legs and conversations towards the counter, slipping quietly between expansive, flailing gestures and loud, friendly arguments.
The man behind the counter is old, laugh lines and wrinkles mapping out his history across his face, the dimple in his cheek and the crow's-feet beside his eyes speaking of a life lived well and with good cheer. His coarse gray hair, just long enough to curl over his collar, is thinning, a little, at the top of his head, but his short, well kept beard is sti
But I should be sleepingThere is a place
where the water meets the sky
and you and I once sat together
(but the perceptions of the heart
are clearer than the perceptions of the mind
and that place
still exists for me)
remind me to go there again
for you to come running up to meet me
for I have something to tell you
it means I love youlisten-
the conjugation of the heart
is not quite such a complicated thing
when I speak of you
(for I was born with your name upon my tongue,
the rhythm of your pulse in my veins
and the warmth of your smile under my skin)
and with every breath
the tenses of my blood
Observers- BBC Sherlock x Reader Chpt. 69John refused to leave you alone for very long, not wanting you to wake up someplace unfamiliar alone, and ended up sorting through emails on his laptop in his room while you slept. He looked up when you groaned and your hand came up to rub at your forehead as you grumbled, “Merde… What-Where am I?”
“You’re in my bed,” John offered and you sighed, sitting up, “I’m sorry, Johnny. I didn’t mean to fall asleep up here. I’ll go back downstairs.”
You moved to leave, unable to stop the sharp gasp and cringe as pain rippled through your body, and John got up to ease you back down, “It’s alright, Squeak… I was actually wondering if you would stay up here with me tonight.”
“Why?” you asked warily, thinking it might be a ploy to get you to take his bed while he slept on the couch, and John wrapped his hand around yours, “You’ll be more comfortable here and then if you need anything
Observers- BBC Sherlock x Reader Chpt. 67Faint violin music resounded from the closed door to your room when John returned the next morning and he cocked his head to the side in thought before swinging it open. The room was covered in a plethora of paper animals, a good number of them cranes, and a symphony John recognized filled the air. You were sitting cross-legged in the middle of the hospital bed, your fingers busy folding yet another animal, and Sherlock was in the chair next to you with his feet kicked up on your bed and his eyes closed, violin and bow in hand.
You finished what you were working on, which turned out to be a paper balloon, filled it with air, and then threw it in Sherlock’s direction, hitting him square in the face. He stopped playing and you giggled triumphantly, “Direct hit?”
“You got lucky,” he said pursing his lips and you pouted, “Even if I did- It still hit you. Now pick a new spot… further away this time.”
Sherlock’s eyes flickered open as a
Observers- BBC Sherlock x Reader Chpt. 66With your brother gone, you flopped back so you were lying horizontally across the bed, hissing a curse under your breath as you felt a sharp pain shoot up your shoulder, “Putain… that bloody smarts.”
You felt Sherlock’s hand on your hip and reached out to find him again, quickly finding your hand in his as he caught it and then brought it to his lips to kiss your knuckles. You could feel his lips turn up in a smirk when you giggled and then he wove his fingers between yours as you groaned, “How much longer until tomorrow?”
“A while,” he hummed and you sighed, “I’m sorry you have to stay… I know it must be terribly boring for you.”
“I want to stay, (F/n).”
“That’s sweet, Sherly, but it doesn’t make it any less boring.”
“True. Play a game with me?”
You blinked at the ceiling a couple of times and then gave a one-shouldered shrug, “Sure. What did you have
Observers- BBC Sherlock x Reader Chpt. 71It seemed your mind was determined to torment you as a few hours later you went from peaceful to whimpering as you thrashed slightly, a layer of sweat glistening on your forehead. You jolted awake but found no relief as the darkness that loomed every time you opened your eyes made the nightmare seem unending. You rolled to your side and whimpered, trying to erase the images from your mind, before finding the floor with your feet and stumbling out to the living room.
Clinging to the door frame you quietly called, “Sherlock?”
You got no response and took a step forward, trying again as your voice grew increasingly distraught, “Sherly?”
His eyes snapped open and he blinked at you a couple of times, hoping you’d go to John if he kept quiet. No such luck, you panicked slightly and took a few quick steps into the room, a mistake since it put you in a space with nothing around you for you to get your bearings. Realizing this too late, you spun a little fra
Observers- BBC Sherlock x Reader Chpt. 68Things finally started to sink in for the three of you now that you were home. It had been easy to push away the reality of the situation and the emotions other than worry when you were unconscious in a hospital bed but everything had to be dealt with eventually.
Down the road, John gathered the little bag that held your prescriptions as he thought over what had happened. He’d almost lost you… again. The thought of what would have happened had he and Sherlock not been on their way home at that exact moment sent a shot of dread through his veins. You were his support system, his lifeline, the one person in the world he could trust with anything and everything- his best friend. At the same time you were his baby sister and it was his job to protect you and somehow he’d failed.
There was no way he could erase the guilt- if he had gone with you, if you had felt like you could come to him, if he’d noticed you hadn’t called, if, if, if… The list went on
Through the Distorted Glass: A SummaryAfter mourning the loss of their friend, Miguel, Lanetta forces the team to continue on. Tiana has a fit, upset that everyone is just getting up and abandoning the memories of their friend. Not fully understanding Tiana, since she doesn’t speak Pokémon, Lanetta lashes out at her, stating that death is a part of life, and if you let it hold you back, you’ll never get anywhere, always being stuck in the past. She tells Tia that Miguel wouldn’t want her to suffer over him, so she should move on. Tiana reluctantly agrees, and the team heads to Eterna Forest, where they meet Cheryl.
Cheryl is a travelling nurse, on her way to the league to deliver a top secret new medicine called “revive” that supposedly can bring back a freshly killed Pokémon, within limits. Lane finds the technology scary, being a believer that you should respect the dead as they are. The two women butt heads on various issues of Pokémon morality, especially when Lane use
Observers- BBC Sherlock x Reader Chpt. 70The next day was thankfully uneventful, both the boys needing a day to just process everything and you spending nearly the entire day asleep from the meds. They were both careful not to leave you alone so that when you did wake up you didn’t panic and John decided that for now he was going let Sherlock off the hook for the things you’d told him the night before since he seemed to have handled it well.
When it got late enough to go to bed you were out cold curled up in Sherlock’s chair and John worried that if he moved you he’d hurt you in someway so he made sure Sherlock was going to stay on the couch and then left you where you were for the night. He was a bit relieved when the next morning you were still sleeping in exactly the same position and that you hadn’t woken up and freaked out.
You blinked awake when he was midway through making breakfast, slipping out of the chair to slowly navigate your way into the kitchen, hugging the wall and then the count
TBOS Ref: Katy and CharlieName: Katy Frost
Description: Blond, brown eyes. Wears navy coveralls and a box cap. Works as a zoo-keeper, specifically for the penguins.
History: Katy is the youngest of two, and a vet. She's hoping for a promotion. She looks after 28 penguins.
Personality: Mostly cheerful, somewhat pessimistic. Snarky.
Abilities: Is a vet.
Description: Emperor Penguin. Black, white, has a beak.
History: Charlie was bred in captivity and likes fish.
Personality: Likes fish. Is curious about the outside world.
Abilities: Penguin. He's cute?
Taken by: The book. Katy has a page, but currently thinks it's litter, and has simply shoved it in her pocket.
The Parlour IncidentOne day in July, I believe it was, I found myself sitting with several acquaintances in Christopher's parlour. It was one of those deliciously lazy afternoons which only the summer in her full glory can bring. The room had a wan, listless light to it, relaxing the other guests and myself as we languidly chatted over tea and crumpets. The air was also sluggishly heavy, dulling the senses to a slowly-blended calm engendered by the heat of St. Othniel's southerly climate.
At length, after much stimulating conversation, Christopher stood, producing a book of sheet music.
"What do you all say to a bit of music?" he asked.
"Certainly," I answered.
"Oh yes, please do darling!" Tabitha exclaimed, "he's quite the maestro."
Christopher laughed, shaking his head.
"Now, now love, I'd not go that far."
He strode over to the piano as the other guests urged him on. Ida entered the room bearing a merrily steaming teapot and more crumpets.
"More tea sirs?" she inquired, shooting sideways glances at her
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More