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Sorry for what? Last night, I looked out side into the cascading snow.There, stooped on a mound, was a creature. With arms and legs like any man but it was just too frail. Its shoulder blades looked close to tearing out of the pale mesh that served as its skin. Each rib was defined to a grotesque degree. It sat there, stark naked in the cold as snow covered its hallow shoulders.its face was hidden by its hands and what they held.
I covered my mouth at the sight of this morbid creature. As I did so, said creature presented its face to me.Slowly his body unfurled as he turned on the loose snow covered mound. lowering his hands and what they held. His face was elongated at the snout and held many sharp teeth. His skin was stretched over each sharp edge of his features.The pale flesh was so tortuously tight around his illuminated eyes that I surely believed he could not close them.His hair hung in dirty mats around his face and over his dark eyebrows. So much like &
A Hero full of Pride It's a shame to see something so strong at it lowest. It's a shame when you realise that the thing that you believe in the most is a mere human. Flesh and bone like you. The strength that, that one human holds is the strength of changing your world with their story. One slurred story fills your mind with wonders of days passed. One slurred story continuosly played forth, etches richly in your mind. All your hopes and dreams circle that one story.
The story is filled with such pride. So much pride that you feel proud to even repeat that story. So much pride that you weep at the loss of such a story. So Much Pride that the story seems unreal.
So much pride that the human who told it to you is not worthy enough to tell the story because they are a wreck , a mock of the hero. So much pride that it hurts to realise that it is a true story and that the time of the story has long passed.So much pride that it hurts to realise that no other being could possibly follow the same story line as
I will never use that as an excuseNo one needs to tell me about fathers, Dusty outed me once on this.
The truth isn't as nice as I told her it was, things are much worse, though it's true that my father has never hit me.
But I will never EVER use my horrible personal home life as an excuse to do or to get away with anything EVER.
No one needs to tell me the definition of "abuse". I know what it is, & when someone screams at another person for no good reason, pushes them to tears, especially using lies, THAT is abuse. Anyone who thinks different clearly does not know the definition of abuse. "Harassment", by definition, is abuse, & it's agreed that 'harassment' is unacceptable, so why is "abuse" being filtered differently?
When you call someone on doing something, that's not abusive. When you scream, swear, lie, & manipulate them while you call them on it, THAT is abusive. You have gone about your "call out" in an abusive way. Live in any form of denial you
Mekakucity Actors Fanmade script PV'sKuroha: Mekakucity Actors
(Outer Science plays in background)
Now…Again, and again and again, let’s repeat this beautiful never-ending tragedy. Ah, will her wishes ever be granted, I wonder?
*evil cackle insert*
Anime: Mekakucity Actors coming soon. Set the stage for our tragedy’s queen.
Azami: Mekakucity Actors
(Shinigami Record in background)
I am known as Azami. An anime is coming? What strange things humans create; not that I would understand a thing.
Anime: Mekakucity Actors. Even now Tsukihiko, Shion… I still love you.
Kenjirou: Mekakucity Actors
(Dead and Seek playing in the background)
Tateyama Kenjiro here. Ah, man, so tired, no matter how much I sleep, it doesn’t make much of a difference. And the kids are as energetic as ever with the anime coming out soon…
New anime: Mekakucity Actors. Well then, I guess it’s about time to start getting to work.
Historial ClinicoNoviembre 2004
Pobre niña enferma. Nadie sabe lo que tienes, dejaste de respirar por un momento, y te tuvieron que ingresar... pero nadie te dijo que te dormiste por dos semanas, nadie quizo hacerlo, eras muy chiquita para entenderlo con solo 4 años y medio.
Se preguntaran ¿Qué le pasa a esa niña de 5 años casi 6? ¿Por qué se le ve deprimida? ¿Estará enferma? Eso quisieran saber sus padres, que han estado aquí mas de dos horas esperando sus exámenes de sangre.
¡Miren ahí esta el doctor! Tiene cara seria ¿pasara algo malo? ¿O es así siempre? La niña casi no puede mantenerse de pie, no ha comido y tiene mucho sueño.
El doctor sienta a sus padres y dijo cosas que la niña no entendía hasta ahora:
- Tiene los glóbulos blancos muy altos y las plaquetas muy bajas para una niña de su edad. Y según me han contado pasa mucho tiempo enferma, eso significa que los leuco
Mykan's TruthMYKAN’S TRUTH
Many of you around Deviantart, or even on Youtube, Twitter, have been told stories about me by several people who say nasty things about me (I won’t say their names) But I’ll bet they’ve been telling you the following about me…
“the guy is just demented. He told a mother some days ago she deserves to be beaten up in prison, just for calling him out on writing filth that made her daughter cry.
He is a cheater, a liar, a thief, a racist, a holocaust denier, a sexist pig and a full blown retard who believes women deserve to be socially shunned if they leave other people. He writes his MLP hatefic just for the fact, that the show reminds him off one fact: Having friends is awesome, and he has none cause he is a self centered douchebag.”
I can assure you, these people are not only dishonest, they are rude cyberbullies who openly admitted they wish bad things to happen to me, and for people who like me to STOP liking me becaus
How Mykan Makes a DerivateHOW MYKAN MAKES DERIVATE
First, I’ll explain…
I cannot draw things by hand very well.
-It would take far too long
-It would not look very good (Even with practice, and would still take too long)
-Nobody wants to see stuff like that
-Even if I did draw them, they would still probably look no different
So to save time, I do what most people do, and edit over screen shots taken from the show itself, or enlist the help of other people and their artworks (With first asking for permission, and crediting them if they say “Yes”)
However, screenshots from actual TV shows, you cannot ask for permission “There’s no way you can actually ask the people” and besides, I’m not stealing their stuff wrongfully with bad intentions to sell, or make money, and things like that, but it all falls under the “Fair and Free Use” term. It’s just for sharing, and not for profit.
Another thing that comes to my attention is how people seems to be
Be strong...When you feel sad and depresed, remember... There are people who want to hurt you, but there are many others who can understand you... those are the people who you really should care about... Because dose people are the ones you will be friends with...
You were given this life, because you are strong enough to live it.
Never give up.
Les allegations d'Olivier M. |1|Les allégations d'Olivier M.
(Nous relatons les faits, dires et écrits d'Olivier M. dans sa quête vers la paix spirituelle).
Il s'avança doucement vers son siège, son calepin à la main. Dès qu'il fut assis on aurait dit qu'un air vint lui effleurer le visage.
Rien ne le rendrait plus heureux qu'un simple moyen de repos, mais il insista pour commander un jus de citron.
Cette cafétéria était un endroit plausible pour son esprit et il en était conscient.
Il posa le calepin sur la petite table et l'ouvrit.
Un simple stylo à bille lui permit d'entamer son écriture. Et cela donna vie aux pages vierges.
Un court relèvement de tête succéda à l'arrivée d'un serveur menu d'un plateau contenant sa commande.
Il la lui posa et s'en alla sans trop tarder sur les formules de politesse.
Olivier sirota son jus et écrit doucement
Why/How Mykan Makes Fanfiction/Vids/Fanart.WHY/HOW MYKAN MAKES FANFICTION/VIDS/FANART
I have grown tired of explaining things to people over and over again why I make fan-fiction and why it makes me angry and all that jazz. So I made this which I will link to people so I don’t have to say it again and waste time.
First of all, why do I make Fan-fiction…?
1: It gives me something to do with myself that I PREFER to do over many things that I don’t like, or gave up and do not wish to reclaim. In other words, it’s to keep the real world and things I don’t like OUT OF MY SIGHT where they belong. I just do not trust them anymore when all they do is make me feel upset, bully me, and throw salt in my already aching wounds. (Especially without hearing me out first)
“Kill yourself and do the world a favor”
“I won’t have a delusional twit like you talking to me”
“You’re a pimple on society’s butt.”
I thought I could escape to the fantas
I had a heart once. I had a heart once. I don't know when I lost it, all I know is that it was sometime ago. I believe it happened while one evening I was touring the roads on my bike. Feeling the wind through my hair, hearing it as it roared by my bare ears.
I love the way the leather grips feel under my tight fingers, or how the motor purrs between my legs. The heavy intoxicating smell of sun heated tar of the road. I will admit the odd sharp speck to the face every time a lone bug collides with me in the rush is unsettling but the whole idea that I know I'm looking cool is enough to keep me calm. Yup, heart racing fast it was definitely still there.
I sped through a small town like the jackass I am. Making the women scream and the men yell. The buildings were nice. they looked old and kinda made the town look like it was made out of toys.A little tinker town where the people are always moving.yeah,but I sped through it. That's when I believe it happened.
Racing down the sea side run. Fee
All Here For A ReasonI turned onto a shady, well-manicured driveway that, for all intents and purposes, looked harmless enough. Maple trees lined both sides of the street, and a parade of Canadian geese marched across the road to a wide duck pond with a flamboyant fountain. There were blooming crepe myrtles and rose-of-sharons, and as I grew closer to my destination, neatly trimmed gardens with neatly trimmed bushes.
I stopped to let the geese pass. They looked at me; one hissed. I honked my horn and moved around them.
At the end of the road sat a collection of grayish buildings and a number of signs directing me to the appropriate parking lot. "Welcome to Ten Creeks Hospital," said one of them. "Please enjoy your stay." I parked in the visitor's lot. Surely I wouldn't be staying.
I was shaking when I got out of my car. I had spent the morning getting high. One foot in front of the other, flip-flop noises, hot sidewalk. Mulberry and magnolia trees, freshly shaved grass. A bench and pan for smokers. A set o
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