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To a friend7
Hello new friend,
I know I just met you today
but I can tell that we've got a long future ahead of us.
I met you at recess.
I was sitting over in the corner, you know,
where I always sit near that big maple tree.
I was building a house of twigs
and one of the older boys came and kicked it down
and told me to play somewhere else.
So I did.
And I didn't cry.
ok, so maybe I cried a little, but it was ok cause
that's how I met you.
I just closed my eyes and there you were.
sitting in front of me
on the blank white sheet of my mind.
You are so smart, friend.
I don't know what an imbecile is,
but it was nice of you to call those boys ones.
You remind me of a character from my book.
Let's build a house of twigs together, friend.
And we'll be the only ones with the key.
I have a sleepover tonight, friend,
so I'm afraid I won't be able to talk to you.
I love to talk to you before bed.
I would like you to know that you are wonderful company.
My other friends don't understand y
Who the hell is Bucky?After he dragged Steve out of that lake, Bucky should have run. He was the Winter Soldier. He was a ghost story. A shadow. And if SHEILD or HYDRA found him, he'd have to hurt people. But he didn't run. He hid in the woods in a place where he could see Captain America laying on the sand, bleeding. He watched as people came and found his limp unconscious body, watched as they strapped him to a wheeled board that reminded Bucky too much of the chair he'd been strapped to after a mission.
"But I knew him."
"your work has been a gift to humanity"
"You will be the new fist of HYDRA!"
He scowled, shaking off the voices. He shouldn't have these memories. He'd been out of cyro for too long. He should get back to HYDRA for debriefing. But he'd failed his mission, and he didn't want to go back. So instead he threw one last glance over his shoulder at the man who had called him 'Bucky' and promised him until the li
Sleepovers and Stars (a Doctor/Master fanfic)“Are you ok?” The voice was gentle and soft and unconditionally kind, but the Master refused to reply, or even look up. He knew who it was, anyway. There were only two people on this bloody prison of a ship. He was curled in a ball in the corner of the room where the Doctor had locked him up after the untimely destruction of a small but densely populated moon. He’d sworn up and down that he had nothing to do with it, and his fellow timelord probably would have been able to forgive him if he hadn’t found a very specific set of wires that had just happened to be missing from the generator that ran the moon’s asteroid shields stuffed in his pocket. That had been a bad night for both of them.
And of course, the result of the Master’s destructive tendencies had been that the Doctor had left him in a blank and silent room to ‘think about what he’d done’ (Which was never going to happen, since it was impossible to think over the sound of t
Letting GoIt's like a little girl
cupping a feather in her hand on a windy day
She holds it between two fingers, telling herself
that she's going to let it fly away like the creature it came from
fly away and dance in the wind.
But fingers don't seem to want to let go- they preen over the little grey and yellow patches instead
and avoid the bits that are matted with red.
The little girls knows
what that red is, but she won't let herself think about it.
It's like when that little girl
takes home the feather held carefully in her pocket
and places it
in an old
under her bed,
where it sleeps until a few years later
when she finds her forgotten treasure,
climbs to the tippity top
of her favorite climbing tree
and finally lets the feather fly away.
It makes her cry
how it gets stuck on every branch on the way down.
It's like a 10 year old boy
fingers rigid around a tree branch
while his feet hang down in the air.
His friends aren't even there to egg him on,
To a Best FriendFriends know when you're happy
Best friends know when you're faking it.
Friends ask you questions
Best friends answer for you.
Friends are friends
Best friends are sisters.
Friends know your past
Best friends dictate your future.
So, to my best friends, the one who knows me better then anyone,
You're the Downton to my Abbey,
You're the Doctor to my Who
You're the apples to my honey,
and my life would stink without you.
You're the sonic to my screwdriver,
the weeping to my angel,
the doctor to my companion,
the hero to my sidekick,
and all the brightest starts in my galaxy are your's.
You're the Leah to my Luke,
the Star to my David,
the Ladder to my Jacob,
the Artemis to my Holly,
and the Max to my Flock.
You're the Katniss to my Prim,
the Britain to my America,
the Fez to my Bowtie.
The spring to my step,
the sole to my shoes,
the light to my eyes,
and the beat to my heart.
and though you can be
The Goliath to my David,
Whovergent Chapter 3: choices That night was the hardest one in a long time for both Theta and Koschei. Theta had planned on sleeping over at his friend's house tonight, since Koschei's father was a faction leader and had a large house right near the Erudite compound, but now he couldn't bare to even look at the other boy, never mind stay over his house for the night. Instead, he stayed in the school dorm for the night. Everyone else was going home for their their last night before initiation, but Theta's parents were always busy with work and the younger kids-they'd be there in the morning to take him to the choosing ceremony. It was probably better anyway, he thought as he lay in his double bed in the corner of the empty room. His parents were always able to tell when something was bothering him, and he didn't want to talk about it, not now.Tomorrow, he would be an initiate, and more importantly, he'd be saying goodbye to his best friend forever. That is, if Koschei would even talk to him to say goo
Whovergent Chapter 2: TestsFire and Water. They danced in Koschei's dreams that night, each momentarily beating him back into the other until he didn't know which was better, or even where one ended and the other started. When the dream started, he was standing at the choosing ceremony, with the 16-year-olds of all the factions sitting behind him. In front of him lay a semi-circle of bowls, each one filled with a substance representing a different faction. He would cut his hand with a knife and sprinkle his blood into the faction he would choose. Then his hand was outstretched, and there was blood dripping down his wrist onto the carpet, and Erudite water and Dauntless flame were on either side of him, in huge metal bowls, and his hand didn't know which was to go. Cool water, or hot fire. Bravery, or Intelligence. Was he smart enough to choose a life of certainty and studies and Theta by his side, or brave enough to choose uncertainty and danger and loneliness?
"Choose." A voice sounded behind him. It was cold a
Whovergent Chapter 1: Beginnings"Theta, I'm bored." Silence. The younger boy poked the older's arm, but his friend just brushed him off, leaning in even closer over the book he was engrossed in. "What do you want to do?" No response. "Thete, come on. What do you want to do?"
"I'm doing it," mumbled Theta grumpily, finally looking up from his book. "I will never understand why you can't seem to appreciate a good book." The teen had a pale but handsome face, with deep brown eyes, fairly high cheekbones, and brown hair that stuck up in an odd way. He looked even taller the usual next to his almost child-like friend. "Books are fine, but wouldn't you rather be out, well, I dunno, having fun? Exploring? Maybe exploding a few things?" The lighter-haried boy stood up and looked down at his friend with green-brown eyes, a mischievous grin lighting up his face. Theta was very familiar with that grin. It was a sign of impending trouble.
"No. Be quiet."
"Who am I going to disturb?" He scanned the library where they sat. It was
The butterfly in the GhettoMost beautiful things stay
away, out of reach.
On the other side of the fence,
where the world’s still a good place.
Butterflies don’t live here.
The bird song is a distant echo
just out of reach.
But there was one,
a yellow butterfly floating over the fence
like a ray of sun.
It leaves a trail of gold behind it,
as it flutters down,
to land on the cold grey ground.
So out of place,
like a dot in a sea of stripes.
Just like me.
Go, I told it.
here’s not a good place.
There’s no such thing as a good day
in the ghetto.
But it stayed
for a moment.
like the feeling of hope,
warming in your heart.
Then fluttered back over the fence.
backlit against a turquoise sky.
Some day I’ll follow,
cast off the barbed-wire,
cast off the pain.
cast off the chains I have to wear,
just because of who I am.
אני גאה להיות יהודי
I’m proud to be Jewish.
Death isn't a fresh perspectiveI saw my mother
swallowing something small
when I was just a child
The anguish in her eyes
faded, as she told me
it was just a
with a little extra kick
maybe years later,
that's how I convinced
to swallow fifteen,
give me a fresh perspective;
in the end,
my breath reeked
instead of mint.
Our Captain (Robin Williams Remembrance Poem)Oh, Captain
We’ve never had,
A Friend like You.
You came to us as an Alien,
from the Planet Ork.
But through the Years,
You made Home in Our Hearts
We Saluted You over the Airwaves
We Watched You get Sucked in a Game,
And Haul Your Family in the Big Rolling Turd.
You were a British Nanny,
Who was actually their Dad.
A Business Man,
Who was actually Peter Pan.
A Crazy Scientist,
Making a Being called Flubber.
Who Just Wanted to be Free.
You were a Robot,
Made of Rusty Old Parts.
We’ve never had,
A Friend like You.
You became the Man of the Year,
And the Wax Figurine Exhibit
Of the Twenty-Sixth President
Of the United States of America.
You Were the World’s Greatest Dad,
And the World’s Greatest Therapist.
You Had a License to Wed
And be a Kid,
Who Grew Up Four Times Too Fast.
You only Won One Oscar.
But that’s okay.
We Love all Your Other Works Anyways…
We Will Miss You
fall in love with (splitting hairline fractures)we swallow blues instead
of talking them out. oh,
kids like us are specters,
spectacles: boys counting
rib(cage)s & (de)composing
don't you hate
is a vessel
we're deities or tomb-raiders; no
in-betweens for writers these days
Dark SideThere's another side of me
A side I barely show
It's my dark side
And my pride
The time I showed it to my friends
They were shocked, worried
I will tell you what they said
Decide for me
If these are what you call
One said 'just be happy'
One said 'that isn't true!'
One said ' but I've got it much worse'
One said 'don't be annoying'
One said nothing at all
Only One listened
That could be you
This is my dark side
The one that tells the truth
It makes me write
It keeps my dreams
It is everything I have
But no one knows
DoormatI let you walk
All over me
Like the floor
Beneath your feet
And I never complain
The floor doesn't
If the floor complained
When you walked on it
You would be very annoyed
And you would probably
So I don't complain
Because I don't want
To be replaced
And I let you
Push me around
Like a cart
Through a shop
And I never push back
The cart doesn't
If the cart pushed back
When you pushed it
You would get hurt
And you would probably
So I don't push back
Because I don't want
To be left alone
Now, and forever more
Who lets you
Wipe your feet on my face
I love you
But I question
If you love me back
Because who would love
A dirty old Doormat?
I died todayI died today
Took my own life
I was tired
I was desperate
And now I'm dead
People never cared
So I left them behind
Now a new life awaits
Beyond the gates of Hell
SkinnyI wish you'd believe me,
When I tell you you're pretty,
That you don't need to skip a meal or run 7 miles,
Just so you can be skinny,
You talk about how you hate yourself,
You wish you could be stunning, beautiful, gorgeous.
You think that if you looked like a model,
That you'd never be lonely,
Everyone would love you.
You think you d get that guy you ve been dreaming of,
Maybe mommy and daddy wouldn't be so harsh if they had a pretty little girl.
You re skin and bone,
But that is not good enough,
You need less and less,
And every pound that disappears,
You begin to lose yourself in a vicious cycle.
Until you re consumed and it eats away at you.
I beg you to listen to me,
I want you to know that you mean everything,
But you don't care,
And then when the ambulances came,
And carried you away...
There was nothing more I could say...
I guess you were unaware,
That you were already beautiful.
WonderI wonder how I got here
I wonder which way's true.
I wonder at the raindrops,
I wonder why they fall the way they do.
I've got so many questions
and so little time.
In this crazy world
I can find so little reason or rhyme.
If hope's a bird with feathers
that perches in the soul,
then I'm a lonely traveler,
walking a winding road.
But at least I've got my questions,
my answers and my songs,
for if life's a lonely highway, at least there's still wonder in us all.
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Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More