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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.
I Tear My Skin AwayI Tear My Skin Away
I tear this skin from my body,
Even if the world screams,
That I am only an illusion.
I tear the bones from my legs,
Through pain, I will grow,
Through suffering, I will become.
I rip the muscles from my arms,
These teeth from my jaws...
And with nothing upon me,
I carry on...
Like a broken puppet, still shivering,
Still forcing its way through the darkness;
I tremble for I am nothing...
And yet, I am moving. My voice still screams...
I draw breath into these tired lungs,
As I rip the flesh away...
And I shatter these mirrors before me,
With a voice that will not break:
Because the world cannot label me as nothing,
And I will live for my own sake!
"So tell me, is that all the pain you've got for me?"
You're worth so much moreShe was the type
to cut her wrists,
and then swallow the
because looking at what
was even harder
but I want to tell her
to let the emotions
p i l
out of her mouth,
instead of her
and that I'll gladly
let the words slice me,
if it means
You're beautifulPlease eat.
Are you listening to me?
If you are,
I want to tell you.
You re beautiful.
It doesn't matter what you weigh,
you shouldn't feel guilty about what you ate.
It doesn't matter,
I promise you things will get better.
Listen to my words,
Hold my hand.
Don't worry about the rest of the world,
It's okay if they don't understand,
How it feels like,
To feel fat,
To feel ugly,
To feel worthless.
You are none of those things.
It s okay to be chubby,
It s okay to be skinny.
Because you have a big heart.
And your smile,
Is like a priceless work of art.
And I don't want to see you destroy,
Because you're more than just a broken toy.
And to everyone else,
So for once let yourself be,
Accept your reflection.
Because you are the definition of perfection.
So don't worry,
Don't be sorry,
To be who you are.
Because you re,
Those Green Eyes (Or: Don't Lie to Your Kid)Those green eyes -
The green of joy
The green of hope
The green of love and acceptance -
Were always full of lies.
They first lied when I said,
After a nightmare at four am
When I was too small to reach a light switch,
“Will you ever leave me?”
And those eyes said,
Why did those green eyes
Shut when I needed them most?
"Are you okay?"
Would be a red line
That I would etch into myself
Those green eyes melted.
Those green eyes did shine
And I knew what it was -
I was young, not stupid -
But I indulged the lie,
For those green eyes.
"Will it get better?"
I asked one sunny Saturday
At ten in the morning
And those green eyes looked away;
“And you’ll be here forever?”
There were no words.
I made up my own affirmative.
Those green eyes -
When they saw
How I’d rubbed myself raw
notes on a matchbook love.if I were the type
to say how I really felt,
I'd tell you that
I hope you choke on your apologies
like they're arsenic
and your nails are already
with the poison.
I'd let you know
that I'll never be a body
for you to touch
just because I know that's all you want.
I'll never be a fairy in a bottle
at your waist.
this is no storybook, and
I am no myth.
hear my silence,
feel the cold absence
respond to your weak "I'm sorry"s.
I beg you,
stop digging the hole,
stop, just stop.
Hush and watch the flames
engulf the image you sold me.
you can tell me
I'm beautiful as much
as you want,
but I know that it's not enough,
that you'll always want more,
that you've been a wolf
between my legs all this time
and my fingers are bruised
from holding the leash.
now every time you whisper
"please be okay",
I will always tell you that
I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine.
I will forever pretend
that I've grown up from you,
that I've become a mystery
What is Hope?Hope is something we have as children,
It helps us thrive and try our hardest.
Hope is what we express in the worst of times
When all hope seems lost.
Hope is what people possess in life
To work toward our dreams.
Hope is a lie
That's not worth our time.
AnxietyAnxiety tapping on my door,
"Can I come inside your head?"
I shiver, not ready for its visit.
It charges in, smelling of worry.
Spends a morning, afternoon and night,
playing with my emotions.
A marionette dancing its old tune on rough strings.
Leaves me winded and praying to beat it the next time.
I Know You're Strong, Let's Be Stronger TogetherI Know You're Strong, Let's Be Stronger Together
if i’m being completely honest,
i can’t say i know what you’re goin’ through.
and if i’m being frank,
i’m sort of afraid to write this
because i’ve always been unsure
if i love too much but it’s my nature
and i’d rather lose by trying too hard
than to do so without doing enough.
i hope you’re asleep now
and i hope you don’t read this
till the morning and i hope by then
things will be a little lighter
but i’m hoping against hope
because if you don’t know,
i feel when things are off.
call it intuition, call it a feelin’,
say i just know it.
my friend, my door is always open
even when you’re feeling closed
off to the world and right there,
i can understand that feeling well,
because i still feel we relate to one another
better than most brothers understand their sisters.
know i look at you as a sibling
and i believe we know when the other
I miss youYou are a ghost in my head
Living, yet you haunt my thoughts today
To speak your name
Would be to desecrate this space
Where you are, I should not care to know
But you are a never-healing wound
An unfulfilled promise
A chance to do no wrong
My memories burn with your taste, your touch, your smell
Who have I become?
Too long have the years been to me
To find myself wishing for the crossroads
For the chance to say no, one more time.
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.
Keep in Touch!
scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More