hey there, did it hurt when you fell? cuz you're the only ten I see.
Hello Deviant buddies!
Cutting to the chase, I'm totally broke and only need a brief CORE membership to change my username ;w;;
Any and all generosity is highly appreciated, and I'm happy to barter for drawings <33
Bullies!Hetalia X Bullied!Reader Ch. 20
The next morning, (Name) made her way to her locker, keeping a lookout for Ivan or any of her other tormentors. She had been on edge since her encounter with the taller classmate, and probably the best way to avoid Ivan was to avoid his older sister as well.
Not that she needed an excuse to do that. Being alone with the woman was awkward and tense enough as it was. With Ivan looming overhead, it made it all the more terrifying.
(Name) stepped up to her locker, thankful that no one had stepped up to bother her yet.
The girl turned to see Kiku standing with his older brother. She quirked a brow in confusion as the pony-tailed teen approached. "So... I kinda pissed Alfred off yesterday."
Her eyes widened in shock at the news. "Why the hell would you do that?" (Name) mumbled, her gaze shifting around to see if said American was around.
Yao let out a sigh, meeting her gaze. "I... I got tired of how they were treating you... Especially when they had no re
HetaliaXReader: Let's Play Slender~This might be ridiculously long. I'm just letting my imagination run wild with this. You have been warned! OH, and there's a bit of cursing.~
"Alright, guys, thank you all for coming to my house with your laptops. I'm sure you're all able to download games, correct?" You're standing in your living room surrounded by your friends, the Allied and Axis groups, who were all instructed by you to bring their laptops. They didn't know this, but you were planning to get them to play Slender, and you had a video camera set up in your office to record each of your friends playing the game.
"(F/n), that did you want us to bring our laptops for? You haven't told us anything, so I'm a bit wary of your intentions," Ludwig asks. He's currently trying to pry Feliciano off of him, who's terrified already for some reason, you haven't even said what you have planned!
"Well, I wanted you guys to come over with your laptops because I have a game I want you all to play. It's called Slender, and I wanted to
Russia x Reader: The Unsmiling TsarevnaYou were a very happy princess. You were happy when you were with your family. You were happy with your friends. You were happy in general. But you never smiled. It was unnerving to most. The only people who could put up with your condition, it seemed, were your friend and personal maid Irina, your late mother, and your father, and even your father was starting to be worried about you. It was unnatural for a girl to never have smiled in her life for eighteen years.
“I think I’m beginning to worry, father,” you admitted to Irina, “I just don’t know how to smile, but I feel happy. I’m always happy.” You were sitting on your bed, staring down at your hands with a light frown on your face.
“You don’t seem very happy now,” Irina joked.
“That’s funny.” You had taken to telling her if her jokes were funny or not due to your lack of doing so facial wise. It was awkward but not as awkward as sitting there with
Germany x Reader: Florinda and YoringalThey said strange things happened in that forest. They had said such things since you were a little girl. As you grew older you didn’t really believe the tale of the witch who lived in the forest quite as much, but the eerie feeling you got from it never went away. So witch or not, you tended to avoid the forest. But that was before you met Ludwig Beilschmidt, a tall, blonde, German man that had captured your heart. He had rode into town with his family – his grandfather and older brother – one day and you were instantly smitten. He was too. It was hard to miss you, you had grown into quite the beautiful young maiden, and he had to have you. He learned that you had a very colorful personality as well, often conflicting with his rather black and white one, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. One of the places where you met with conflict had to do with the forest. He frequently liked to take walks in it, and you avoided it like the plague. And by some miracle,
AmericaXReader: Small FireThe car door slams behind me as I hop onto the weather-beaten road. I plant my hands on my hips and survey the forest before me. It was a good twenty minute drive out of the city to make it here, and it’s worth the early wake up. The autumn breeze whips up the fog of the woods in swirls, making it look positively magical. It reminds me of a scene in a fantasy book.
Alfred comes up behind me and puts his arm around my shoulders. He sweeps his arm out at the woods and says, “This is the lovely place we’ll be spending the next two days in a tent, all nice and cozy.” I laugh as he wraps his arms around my waist, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Let’s get the car unpacked and head to the site, then we’ll rest. Imagine the s’mores filling your belly,” I say, patting Alfred’s stomach. He looks up dreamily and I circle the car to pop open the trunk.
We packed lightly, being that we were only going to be in the woods one night and it was a thir
Breaking Barriers, JapanxReader You bobbed your head to the beat echoing in your ears, your hair just barely shifting every time you made a movement. Your fingers quickly danced across the keyboard that rested on your lap, typing in one window, browsing in another, listening to your music in one of the later tabs. You had a habit of keeping far too many open.
You had been doing this for so long that you could feel the base of your laptop beginning to heat up. You sighed, pulling out one of your earbuds and looking around your small home, having to blink a few times to get used to a surrounding that wasn’t a screen. Your gaze suddenly locked on a clock, and after some quick calculations that came practically instantly, you realized you had been on your laptop for around four hours, and your friend was supposed to be here at any time.
“Dammit,” you huffed under your breath, tossing the electronic aside as you bolted up, beginning to take cans of soda, bottles
Cautious, RomanoxReader "Aw, you're so cute when you're flustered," you teased, laughing gently as you placed a soft kiss on your boyfriend's cheek, watching as his hazel eyes rolled to the side, looking away from you as he scoffed in an angry sort of way.
Pushing gently away from you, he finally looked down at you, and even then he only looked down after he could no longer feel the heat coming off his cheeks. "I'm not flustered..." he managed to grunt out, still walking beside you.
You couldn't help but smirk at the opportunity he gave you. Quickly, you moved towards him, your lips dangerously close to his ear. You wanted to make sure he would both feel the air coming from your lips as well as hear what you said when you whispered, "Flustered."
Lovino Vargas was certainly an interesting case, of that much you were certain. It took quite a long time before you could really truly know him, and then it took even longer for him to begin understanding you. Somehow you didn't ever mind though, not
Addicted, Punk!EnglandxReaderCross my heart and hope to die
Burn my lungs and curse my eyes
I've lost control and I don't want it back
A surprised noise left your lips as your back connected with the wall, the noise being heard by no one, though. Because just as it escaped your lips, it was caught by the lips of another.
You smirked, your painted red lips meshing against that of your boyfriends.
Then, the kiss was parted for just long enough for Arthur's accented voice to drift onto your lips. "That was a bloody great performance, love," he complimented, smirking deviously as he trailed kisses down your neck.
Your fingers knotted in his hair as you left a soft gasp fly off your lips. People would see. People would hear. But God, you didn't care right now.
You were in a band with Arthur and his brother, and well... being in a relationship with the very attractive guitarist did have its advantages, especially after a show.
Page 120Turn to page 120.
It's written in the margins of every volume, in the blank pages at the front and back, over and over again, in shiny brown ink. Turn to page 120.
Childish scribbles in a set of ruined books, I knew, the reason this encyclopedia was dirt-cheap at a yard sale. I didn't care: who needs a paper encyclopedia these days? I bought it because it was too good a deal to pass up, because I thought it'd make me look learned, academic. The encyclopedia aesthetic. And I did find it amusing to poke around in, scribbles aside: outdated information preserved in ink and paper, brief summaries of complex concepts, the occasional racist aside. An old encyclopedia is a world unto itself. And wherever there was once a white space the same message: turn to page 120.
Who wouldn't be curious? It takes minimal effort to find a certain page: you don't have to expect much of a payoff for that to be worth it. Of course I turned to page 120.
Every volume I checked, it was the
after the party.He's drunk in the backseat.
"Anna. Anna. Anna," he moans, as if my name is a broken record his throat can't stop scratching; his voice is nettles and thorns, every natural prick and annoyance. My knuckles go white on the wheel.
Ryan's riding shotgun and he won't look at me. "If you need me to drive him home, I can do it," he offers sheepishly. I don't answer, just press my foot to the gas and let the engine's rusty roar engulf John's voice.
I peek in the rearview mirror. John's laying across the seat like a dead trout, and I can tell Ryan hasn't even bothered to buckle his seat belt. There's a photo album in John's arms that he clings to with all ten fingers, as if it's a bible and he's lying on his deathbed.
I flick my gaze to the old country road ahead, a blurry blue smear of early morning.
"Anna. Anna, I wanna keep her pictures." There's a glint of something in my peripherals, and then a pop, a cool hiss.
"Put the booze down. I don't need you throwing up in my godd
the rose pile.The rose pile,
a butchered St. Valentine’s Massacre--
I wonder where the color went.
If I die,
will I only see black and white?
dirtied air stings my eyes
and considerations dissipate.
There are certain nights
I can only think in terms of
predator and prey,
but whatever my echoes,
time tuts and turns he back on me.
The newspaper hush
kept my devastation quieted.
Somehow it always comes back to
faces in the crowds,
roots gasping up from the dirt,
a body count in the bustling streets.
Sometimes my eye hooks itself to a certain face
and drives truth through its temple
like a rusting stake.
I never touched a skeletal basement
nor brushed my fingers to its razored walls,
but the screams reverberate just the same
until all suffering becomes white noise--
fruit blossoms from these wounds,
these peaches shedding blood or dripping juices.
I think about
the wood splinter in the grayscale mechanism,
how fascist teeth gnaw the boulevards.
I see a sister,
Exit, Stage Left"You're lonely," he said.
Thelma jumped, startled. She might not have even heard his voice over the thumping dance music, but it was just at that moment where there was a temporary lull between songs. He stood nearby, his head slightly tilted. Thelma glanced behind her, his words ricocheting in her mind - she wasn't sure what was more surprising, what he'd said or that he'd noticed and bothered to relay this observation to her at all. He was good-looking, tall and thin with artfully spiky hair, but something about him struck her as unsettling. Perhaps it was the way he spoke, or that his eyes were oddly piercing, but either way she felt herself straightening, suddenly alert.
"Yes, I am talking to you," he said, looking amused. "You're Thelma, right?"
"Yeah..." she replied, trying to play off her momentarily confusion, tucking a strand of her auburn, shoulder-length hair behind her ear. "Sorry, and you're...?"
She smiled hopefully, but though her tone was apologetic, she herself
Rose and IrisThey loved their garden;
Mother and Daughter would spend
Hours in the sun.
Behind their house was
Green dotted with red, yellow,
Pink and countless more.
Mother loved roses;
Daughter preferred irises.
They planted with care.
They watched the sun rise
While blowing dandelions,
And mimicked at dusk.
Their birdbaths brought in
Winged visitors who were
Greeted with bird seed.
All meals were eaten
On a polka-dot blanket;
Nothing but home-cooked.
Looking for funny-shaped clouds,
Climbing the oak tree.
They ran, danced and sang,
Never tiring of their
Love for each other.
Daughter did not think
That her days with Mother would
Ever reach an end.
When the doorbell rang,
And Mother answered the door,
Daughter heard her scream.
"I want to see her,"
Said the angry man outside,
Firearm in hand.
Fits of drunken rage,
Screams, scars, curses and regrets
Ran through Mother's mind.
She slammed the do
Thinking BluesI was thinking about the concept
of the dues we all must pay.
Yes, I was thinking about the concept
of the dues we all must pay.
If you have paid them already,
there are more on the way.
If you should feel that you are tired
but sleep will not come -
if you should feel that you are tired
but sleep will not come,
I can play you a lullaby
on my big bass drum.
You should always speak your mind,
unless it's time to be still.
Yes, always speak your mind,
unless it's time to be still.
You'll know you did too much talking
when they send you the bill.
You can be seen by the software
that monitors the street.
It is always, always watching
and it monitors the street.
So keep your hat pulled down low,
make your actions discreet.
Mr. Bones and Ms. Lucy
went out dancing last night.
Mr. Bones and Ms. Lucy
went out dancing last night.
And now Mr. Bones is smiling,
but he doesn't seem right.
The freedom train was coming,
then it went right on by.
Oh, the freedom train was coming,
then it went right on
GraceThe hands that cast the mould that made the plough
that dug the dirt for crops to make the dough
that makes our bread - they let us grow.
The souls who drive the trucks each waking hour
from farm to store to shop give us our power -
it makes them dead - and we devour.
Each morsel grows from dirt to plant to food
we tear a piece and sell so it's construed
we do our bit - we don't - we just collude.
And while each toiler keeps us from our graves
so we keep them trapped in their enclaves,
to tell ourselves each night - we don't own slaves.
In Vain of VenusThis is the tale of the beauty of Venus
and how she was showered with love.
Men would come from afar to sail
to her and profess, How I love thee, Aphrodite!
their tries, however, ended in vain and death,
and while she lived, immortal, on her planet.
Twas not until Hermes came to her planet
And cried, oh great Venus!
Let me have thee, even if death
doth end my life tomorrow, love.
Let me give you my heart, Aphrodite,
and together, around the world, we could sail.
But the goddess did not want to sail
and she felt weary of leaving her planet.
I do not love thee, said Aphrodite
And sent heartbroken Hermes from Venus.
He traveled back to Earth, rejected, unloved.
and after many eons, found Death.
However she may not love you, said Death,
and may reject the beauty of your sail.
You will find solace in my love.
Though I may not have a planet
as beautiful as her Venus.
I will love you more than Aphrodite.
The North Star once fell in love with a girl.
But she was only human, and she passed away.
When he first saw her, she was very young—fifteen, maybe sixteen, her hair falling into her eyes as she bent down to pluck a dandelion from the ground. She was so small in that field of grass, so golden in the daylight.
She took his breath away.
He floated downwards, hoping for a closer look. He was almost invisible, save for the hint of stardust that trailed behind him in the late afternoon sun.
Though he made no sound, she turned. The dandelion seeds sprayed into the air with her movement. Her eyes widened—such eyes, dark and dazzling, the color of liquid shadows and obsidian. He lost himself into those eyes, fell into them so deeply that he could not speak. They studied each other in silence.
"Who are you?" she said at last.
"I am the North Star," he said, in a voice as soft as the whispering breeze. "I come from the skies."
She laughed. Perhaps she did not bel