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She thought she was going have nervous breakdown. How could this happen to her? She just wanted that rare flower. But no, she got this instead. A giant crystal with King Sombra in it. Great, just great. She should just leave right now and let other ponies deal with it. This was not her cup of tea. But before the mare could take another step away, a booming voice nearly made her jump out of her coat.
"You. Mare. Come here." Nope. Nope nope nope. Just walk away, just walk away. "Are you deaf, mare? I said come." A magic force appeared around her, taking her back to where the king was standing. "Your name, wench?" Oh no he didn't.
"Excuse you! I am no wench! Now put me down!" The mare's horn gave out a pathetic light blue spark. The king rolled his eyes and set her down.
"Your name." She just gave him a glare she wasn't going answer him until he said sorry. "You are testing my patience, mare." She stayed silent. "...I'm sorry I called you wench."
"Thank you. My name is Toxic Tears" One of
The cold nipped at her hide legs; actually it was nipping at any part of her that was exposed. She had to do this; she had to find that flower. Maybe, just maybe that flower we be the thing to cure her. Using her magic she tightened up her scarf. The mare giving out a huff before going back to trudging through the snow; trying to keep her in contact with the ground. Behind her was the Crystal Empire that looked rather toasty. No she couldn't think of that right now. It felt like she was walking for hours and making no progress. Giving a quick glance she had gone farther than she thought. As the blue colored mare moved forward the wind picked up and so did the snow. This just wasn't fair. She should've brought some pony with her but she wasn't the friendly type. Giving a quick look at her map she knew she was close to the flower. But what her map didn't tell her that there was this big crystal in her way. It was odd for crystal all the way out here. That it had blackish tint to it. Curi
Item #: P3T (“Patches”)
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures:
Subject needs to be kept in a four by five meter room with jean fabric on all walls; floors are carpet. It can have any type of lighting or any temperature.
Subject request small couch made of various materials. Granted.
Subject request to see SCP-D13 once a week. Granted.
Subject resembles a small boy with snow white hair and looks like it has stitches on its mouth. SCP-P3T is 1.06 m. tall and 22.6 kg. Its eye color is unknown as it will not allow scientists to look at its eyes. It wears an orange jacket with one sleeve shorter than the other. It has multiple patches fabric over its body to replace skin. Wears grey blind fold whenever scientist are in the containment room, must knock on door before entering. It wears pink socks; don’t remove under any circumstances. It has no feet, socks filled with cotton.
Body parts are very sensitive, and sometimes fall off. Subject can
Rage In The LakeJust watching you dwellers walk around
But can’t you sea that I’m stuck in this lake
I’m stuck because I can’t breathe up there
No one pays attention to me because I’m quiet
You people make my fins flare up in anger
With your role-playing and filling up your quadrants
But there is nobody in here
In my little lonely lake
I try to talk to you all but you people push me aside
I’m just a stupid lake dweller and I don’t know anyfin
Yeah I know I can be a little slow
I sometimes to forget to breathe
But that doesn't give you the reason to look down at me
I know I’m a little odd but I’m higher than you all expect one
I’m king of the lakes so don’t think I go easy on you
You are not aware of my rage that is build up in this lake
Man in woman's shoesWhen she looks in the mirror she sees a man.
His head held up high and he has whatever he dared to dream.
But when she looks down she sees a woman.
Whose head is tilted and barely even there.
She urges to be this man she sees.
But what will her family think?
What will her boyfriend think?
Will she have to find a new family, a new loved one?
A man walking in woman's shoes
That's what she feels.
A man that has to wear woman clothing.
A man that bleeds once a week each month.
A man that has been knocked down because he’s the opposite gender.
Where people think he can’t survive on his own because breast lay upon his chest.
Where wearing makeup is the only thing that can make him pretty or beautiful.
All he wants is to live in world where he can actually be a man and not a woman.
That’s all she, no he, wants.
A world that can love him for him.
Not where he gets knocked down and beaten for wanting to change.
Thurkear miirikKwi nhee vrak hush
Sia nhee dretri
Ssifisv dout saurivic vur wurunwa di aurix
Ssifisv dout fothisev acht wer svant
Si geou ssejinw wer l'graic mrith sia nhee miirik
Hush sia danthe thric rigluin ekess l'gra
Dask geou troth jacioniv vrak
Jaka ssifisv vur wurunwa di aurix
Si geou clax wer whedabra vur fold
Xurwk mitne sari coi
Vi isk ihk wux
Vi regipre mel'thurkear
Ssifisv sia moxt vrak
Vi z'ar treskri itheikic persvek wer z'ar mitne
Nhee vrak ssifisv
Mobi thric dril ekess resist
Dask nishka troth persvek wer thurkear
Wurunwa di aurix nhee vrak
Guilds LandsBeca– Land of Trance and Rot
Typhon - Land of Treasure and Junk
Nick – Land of Shine and Shrooms
Caseie – Land of Holes and Henge
Adin – Land of Nails and Traps
Dianea – Land of Opposites and Hay
Tomm – Land of Veils and Rubies
• (EC) Land of Sweets and Rainbows
• (ECK) Land of Abandonment and Balance
• (EK) Land of Carnivals and Nightmares
Andy – Land of Cobblestone and Forest
Oaky – Land of Gardens and Vibration
Guilds QuadrantsBeca -
Matesprit: None (Wants Tomm)
Ditch DemonsShe tried to climb out but nothing work
Her nails digging into the dirt walls
Her face beaten up
Blood slowly dripping from her mouth
All she wanted was to be happy
But she was thrown in the ditch
Beaten and crushed
Only to be left with her monsters
Spitting out words and curses
Them repeating negativity that was coming
Digging their nails into her back
Sorrow and agony being injected into her veins
No matter how much she screamed
No one came to save her
Just left her there
Hurt and bleeding
The tough gets growingI'm knee-deep in mud,
grumbling and mumbling
about what I did
to deserve this mess
And my mother glares,
"When I planted you,
I put you deep in the dirt,
not to bury you alive,
but to teach you that
when the growing gets tough,
the tough gets growing."
pick up the slack and
pick up that slack-jawed shadow of yours
dragging on wet pavement under your soles
and hurry it along, we ain't got all day here
flex your white-boned fingers and
taut knuckles and pluck the soul from
its coffin in your slick throat
the sun has better places to be than in your sky.
Falling Back into Placei wait for wisdom
the sludge tells me
to come in
awaits, just beneath the tack
of its sticky skin
and i know
that what waits there
is more patient
eternal and hungry
but the peace
is only a skin
placebo effectthey stuck some needles in his
skin and made him think that he was
plucked the feathers from her
wings and tried to make her
they changed the names of all his pills
and labeled him
tied some string around her neck
and hung her from the
(i only know what they tell me)
9 Countenances for the Curious1.
My limbs have become instruments,
but, unlike the piano of your memories,
I am still not anyone's to play.
I think I am finite,
that the limits of me are dictated
by flesh and numbers
on an inverted scale
but the dog on my lap
doesn't care what I weigh;
she wants only
to love me and be loved.
the pain that anchors you
strains your back,
the ship of your life
is hamstrung upon a reef
and you think you are watching
a dolphin at play
but siren songs deceive you.
my ship sank beneath the waters
years ago, this bubble of life
sustains me even as i drown:
there are storms in the depths
of me, and you see only
the ocean's calm.
At 7, I swallowed stories
like candy; didn't understand
that too much leaves you bloated.
At 17, I breakfasted on books
like pancakes; too caught up
to tell (some things should be special).
At 27, I feasted on fiction
like home-cooked meals; didn't know
some of it could poison you.
At 37, I hope I will be picking
at poetry; letting the flavours
of the words
a girl at the airportwhen she eats cake
she presses a napkin
to her lips with each bite--
frosting smears are impolite
murderers of good,
faraway first impressions.
when she sees someone
beautiful, she hides her face
behind a book, book shelf, closed door
like a pious man hides his eyes
when she has something
important to say among a crowd
she utters it like the bah
of a vulnerable lamb--
a fragile thing, a hesitant mantra
to be drowned and consumed
without thought or care by the sound
of louder others.
when she falls in love
she looks around
to make sure no one saw
and when someone sees
she refuses to believe
their eyes tried to catch
grow upyou say
i am weak
i have never
worked for anything
i am not sorry
i should take
the pills the doctor
i will never
know what it is to
hurt the way that you hurt,
plant me in the ground
listen to the way my nature sounds
when i turn from something black
to something luminous, proud
you turned me into a shadow, you prick
remember that? remember this?
yeah, the condom broke, you
piece of shit, at least i tried
to be careful, at least when
you cried, i kissed your
say what you want
about my judgment.
my immaturity, my general
lack of readiness for
anything. but i was good
to you, and i tried,
and i am sorry that
you hurt so much
that you can't
do it as elegantly
as i can.
you have never
learned to love
the grit: the place
where my spirit sags,
where my love
as if biology could have been any clearer,
cleaning your spit from my bedroom mirror-
i can smell your genes and
they smell fucking good to me,
but i keep telling myself,
Helping handsDrowning the fears
Drowning the yells
Drowning the sorrow
Drowning the drama
I think I have surely fallen
But I feel hands trying to stop my fall
These hands are my friends
They are afraid to lose me to my self
They know that I can not be trusted when I'm depressed
They are the only ones who I really think care
They never gave up on me and never will
I thank them for that
For I know if it wasn't for them I would not be here
I would be in the deepest part of hell
Burning all alone
I great to have friends
But sometimes I do wish I didn't
Too see where I would've end up
But I shall never know for I can never leave them
They're to dear to me
Transformers: We Came in WarTransformers: We Came in War
Setting: Sometime during the Bay films
Characters: Optimus Prime
We came to this planet because ours was gone.
The quest for power consumed our home. The need for domination destroyed us. Still we live, and yet there is a piece in each of us that has been decimated forever. We will never recover what we have lost.
I look down upon this planet, and I wonder why we try.
It is evident by now that we have lost the capacity for peace. War follows in our wake. We came to retrieve the AllSpark, which has long since been lost, and we are still here. All that came of attempting to revive our planet was the relocation of the war from our planet of death to this planet of life. There is so much life on this planet. All of it we have sworn to protect. This is the promise we have made to them. But the promise would not need to have been made if we had never co
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