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For the first time...The graves had laid untouched for years...There was a part of both sisters that resented their parents for what had been done to them….The King and Queen locking them away from each other and the world…
But overtime...Forgiveness did come….But the graves were left untouched...Until now.
The current Queen approached the headstone of her mother, her long pale blue cloak trailing behind her as she cradled a bundle in her arms.
“You were always afraid of me...And for me...I never understood why...But I guess I do now…” She spoke softly looking down at what she held a faint smile gracing her face. “But...There was something you two will never understand now...That love...Was the key to controlling my power…And love will be the key forever more…I know what you did was out of love…”
A soft cry caught her attention as she tightened her hold on the bundle rocking it. Elsa leaned back against the large grave sliding down to
Missed Meeting Penny stared at her latte as the rain ran down the window beside her. She barely gave any notice to the chilled breeze that was managing to sneak around the panes of glass even though her arm that was closest to the window was cold.
She looked at her watch then relieved her breath in a defeated sigh. He wasn’t coming. She should have known that he wouldn’t come, what reason was there for him to have come anyhow? She wasn’t anything special, especially to him.
She rested her chin in her hand s she went back to staring at her untouched drink. She no longer wanted it, she didn’t think that she would ever want a latte ever again. She had, after all, only developed a liking for them when she had found out that it was his favorite; it had seemed like it would be something that they could share. Now it only seemed to remind her of how stupid she had been to believe he would want to meet her.
rantso i need money it's no fair that you give other people money and not me what have i done to you i need money for commistioners if there are any requesters out there that are nice enough to do these requests comment if you don't that'll mean you are mean and i can steal your art you know for "payback" and don't ban me from that oh one person even said that screenshots are copyrighting well they are not how can they be other deviants do that to right?
ok my requests:
super smash bros. creepypasta roster
france and laughing jack vs jeff the killer and england
A Beauitful LullabyA normal, starry night sky. Where the Michaelis Family was sleeping peacefully, well except for one small person. A small girl, around the age of five; her straight black hair, with wavy ends were tied up in two small ponytails, her small pale hands, clutching her black and blue bed sheets and her purple and green eyes filled with tears. She had just had a nightmare.
Sapphire jumped off her bed, and took her black teddy bear with her and opened her big doors slowly as it creaked. She walked down the long and dark hallway, holding her teddy bear tightly as she walked to her parents’ room. She opened the door slowly, as she looked at her parents sleeping, so she walked over to her mother’s side.
“Mommy?” She asked softly and with a small broken voice from her crying, as she shook her mother gently to wake her up. Serena felt someone shaking her and she opened her purple eyes slowly and looked into a green and purple eyes filled with tears.
Time of Month.T’was an ordinary day in the Williams’ household, Fracois and Snowflake were playing with Mister Kumajiro, Matt was relaxing on the couch, but, weeellll……Tundra….Wasn’t really being herself. “MATTY!!” She called out to her husband in a harsh tone, which she rarely did. Matt whimpered and poked his head into their room. “Y-Yes, my little snowflake? S-Something wrong?” “Of COURSE something’s wrong. I’m hungryyyyyyy!” She whined. Matt sighed a bit, and brought her back a bag of potato chips. “H-Here…” He said with a tiny smile. Tundra squeed, hugged him, and began eating.
Matt smiled, but went to his laptop and googled the symptoms Tundra was having. He facepalmed when he saw what it was, and shut his laptop. He then went to their room and hugged her from behind, smiling. Tundra growled a little at this and sorta nudged him off, now eating chocolate. Matt then went to call Franc
Not Good EnoughWhy is it that nothing I do is good enough? It just doesn’t seem to matter, regardless of how hard I try, how far I strive. I’ve been trying, you know. I’ve been trying hard. I’ve been eating better, healthier than before. I’m trying more actively to cut my weight and to stop feeling lethargic. I’ve been going on walks more regularly despite my ankles burning and my bad knee acting up. I’ve been sleeping better and sleeping longer, like I should, rather than staying up and sleeping for two hours. I’ve been trying to stay positive, and it’s actually been working, too. I’ve been happier. I’ve felt better in the last week than I have in the last 10 years.
Why doesn’t that matter to you? It’s never a ‘good job’ or a ‘keep trying’ with you. It’s always ‘yeah okay but why aren’t you doing this?’ It pretty much doesn’t matter what I try to tell you, I’ve re
His Bitter MemoriesI listened as tears of sadness and the laughter of fond memories reverberated off the wooden walls of the small, events centre. Near the entrance on a rectangular table, a book of condolences was filling up steadily. A funeral pamphlet and a small box for donations were spread out around the book for William, a man one either loved or owed.
I turned over an empty glass from another table in the room off to the side and half-filled it with water. I lifted the glass to my lips and scanned the room of faces. My chest tightened when I didn’t find the face I was looking for. Derek. Where was he? When we had had lunch earlier in the week, he had assured me he would attend.
My eyes wandered to my car and I pictured how I might escape. I could slip out and be back with Derek before the service started. I had hoped that he would attend so that it didn't have to come to this. I thought that William’s death would have at least dampen the hate in his heart so we could be together
Tomorrow's A Beautiful DayHigh, soft green grass, nearly as high as my chest, ripples in a light wind across an open field like rolling waves on the sea, and elderly oak trees wave hello, glittering in the late-day sun. Pale blue skies with natural, patchy white clouds paint a faded background, and there is a soft glow to everything. A bay and chestnut horses are grazing peacefully in the distance and birds are chirping and singing and fluttering around like they usually do.
With dark brown hair pulled back into a wavy ponytail, and a beaming proud smile on her face, a woman dressed in a black t-shirt and forest fatigues stands near a white picket fence, with a young girl on her hip, two other girls and a boy are chasing each other around her feet, giggling.
A girl, about four years old with bobbing pigtails and pink ribbons in her hair, peeks out from behind her mom's leg, one thumb in her mouth and the other hand clinging to her mom's leg. Her face lights up as she sees who it is, her dark eyes wide and danci
My sister, the Circus ArcobatI always knew from an early age that my sister and I were different.
When she was ten and I was seven, she could climb to the tippy-top of trees and jump down without any harm coming to her. And when she was eleven and I was eight, she would swing off the branches and I would catch her. But, it worried our parents.
It worried them so.
It was not normal for a girl to be so nimble and flexible like that. Not when she was supposed to wear a corset and thick lace dress. Usually she was in nothing other than her knickers and boys shoes. Unruly. Wild. Untamed. Not submissive. Not good marrying material. Not a good housewife choice. All were ways how our parents and other people described my wild, crazy sister. But, my sister did not stop being who she was, instead she upped the tempo of her craziness to such extremes that our parents stopped taking her out with them and usually said she was some orphan they had pity on. Everyone knew differently, she was the spitting image of our mother, who
Her CatalystAs she walks through the maelstrom, the words trace upon the tips of her fingers and press into the stone. Every brick, every crack in the concrete, every crossed and angular stroke in reds and blacks and oranges. The drips of the gasoline pool around the base of her boots, slosh as she steps over the burst pipes and the rubble.
So much rubble. So little outcry. The silence of the city grates on her eardrums and the mantras she'd been forced to memorize. The Seers demanded they observe thirteen years of recitation before they attempt to weave their first World together.
But who other than the Seers can claim the incantations that knot the skeins they twist and pull on like reins hold fast? When have any of the Sisters recorded the visions they traced upon space-time and recited them, left them open for critique and discussion and debate?
Which is why she walks through the chalky soot of the smashed city around her. This all
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More