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Sometimes the abyss whispers, instead of staringYou spend your days on the meteor in silence, your voice long since gone from shouting and screaming, at first at Dave because he would react, later at empty rooms, walls, no-one in particular, and yourself.
You fucked up. Again. With Kanaya, with Rose, with Dave, with Terezi, with Gamzee, with everyone. You tried to help. To keep everything stable. In hindsight, it's somewhere between hilarious and embarrassing enough that, by all means, you should've culled yourself long ago. Past you is an idiot, Future you a moron, and Present you is the worst of all, because he's you.
You can't even help yourself.
Because sometimes, you catch yourself staring into the abyss, as if straining your ganderbulbs long enough would reveal something.
As if is the right term - as if, because you're not a gogdamned Seer.
Sometimes, just sometimes, you hear a faint honk from the darkness, then you stop dead in your tracks and try to see, mind-numbingly stupid as it is. You're not sure if
NebelhauchEin weißer Nebel über allem
Stahlgrau der Himmel darüber
Still und laut zugleich
Das Lied der Gleise, altvertraut
Züge, die über die Weltkarte tanzen
Und mich wie Boote in den Schlaf wiegen
(Etwas in meinem Kopf sagt
Dass das Gleisbett genauso bequem sei
Wie die Sitze)
(Ich glaube ihm nicht
Egal wie oft es mich
Beissend kalt ist die Luft
Schlimmer noch wenn der Wind weht
Oder es regnet
(Ich vergesse immer
Dass der Winter
Von Dezember bis Februar geht)
Musik lässt mich träumen
Und für einen Moment Ruhe finden
Von dem Sturm in meinem Kopf
Manchmal führt sie meine Hand
Als ob ich die Melodien malen könnte
Doch ich wüsste nicht wie….?
(Wahres Chaos ist ein
Weißes Blatt Papier denn
Keine Bewegung ist wahrhaftig ohne System)
Ich sehe was andere schaffen und
Frage mich, was ich bis jetzt getan habe
Ich möchte so sein wie sie
Durch dichten Nebel
Ein Gewirr von Fäden an mir
Da hin, dort hin, Leuchttürme,
Worte und Taten
Wie eine Schere
Die Fäden trenn
Keleheu's TowerFar in deepest sands
Almost buried a tower stands
A tower made of stone
Crystal glass and bleached bone
A hundred metres high
Legend of the tower tell
Of a people which once rose and fell
Before their death they took their power
And sealed it all within the tower
Long before Beladi reign
A thousand years have come and gone
Greatest deeds have since been done
But no matter where the thieves have crept
The tower all its secrets kept
Along their drying husks
Sometimes when the sun grows dim
A traveller comes and brings with him
A desert rose, a gear, a star
Stories and tales from way and far
And whispers of the tower
They walk into the riddler's den
Never to be seen again
Like oh so many done before
And after them will many more
To catch at least a glimpse
Of who buried riches wants to claim
Only skull and bones remain
Of those called no single thread
Legend tells they are not dead
But welcomed into the tower
The storm subsides
The mass divides
A traveler comes from the sands
On Sburb and the Homestuck Adventure GameOkay, everyone is super-hyped about the homestuck game, i fully understand it, I AM TOO.
And the Whovians and the Supernaturals are on our necks and the shit will hit the whirling device if the game brings about the apocalypse.
But what if it doesn't? What if it only prepares us for what is to come in 20 to 60 years?
What if we are the parent generation? Or worse, the grandparent generation of the true Sburb players? What if each of us, one day, picks up a kid in a meteor crater? What if we are the generation that will raise the grandparent generation, like Sassacre and the Condesce?
What if this comic, this game, inspires us to train our children in more-or-less responsible weapon using? What if ten years, twenty years, fifty years, from now the sylladex system will be developed? What if, instead of being the classic grandparents generation of "we didnt grow up with that and have trouble using it" in regards to technology, but instead look at this, start crying and say "we remember th
Rapunzel's witchAlternate title: Image of a long-haired, beheaded woman
Now and then, an image haunts me, a beheaded woman with long hair, her head held by a friend or lover that cannot quite grasp what they're holding in their hands. The hair is loose, either because the woman had worn it loose when her head had been cut off behead me, if you so wish', she cried, 'but do not have your blades touch my hair.' or the pinned-up parts slowly unravel, resulting in locks of hair and braids to cascade over the arms and hands of the person holding her head.
The expression on her face is calm most of the time, maybe an allusion to the peace in death and the anguish of life and the people that remain?
Rapunzel and the witch come into play at this point. What if the witch did not only cut off Rapunzel's hair, but her whole head? And when the prince came to visit her, he found her decapitated head along with the witch.
The witch is described as hard-hearted, even thoug
Pieces of ParadiseI look at her
She looks at me
An expression of pure, utter glee
And asks me what my paradise is
Her head tilts along with mine
Her expression unchanged
A sister estranged
That asks me what my paradise is
I want to get to know you
For what kind of chain you are a link
Before you care what others think
You should know what your paradise is
The old spider in the morning dew
The intangible web connecting us all
Thunderstorms in the middle of fall
Are all parts of my paradise
The sound of rain on my windowpane
The sound of music and silence and wind
The night's shadowy-blueish tint
Are all parts of my paradise
The scent of old pages of books
Adventures in castles and keeps
Strangest dreams of many night's sleeps
Are all part of my paradise
The voices of those who're close to me
Their laughter and stories and tears
Their dreams and hopes and paths and fears
Are, too, parts of my paradise
She tilts her head again and thinks
I'm quite sure there's more to it
The curled ways of this yours wit
Harriet SageWhen I was sixteen, I had this friend. Rachel. Rachel Lismore, from Maberly Road. Rich parents, rich suburb, little perfect brother, mediocre. Raised by a nanny, one Miss Mills. Shy, demure. Would've been cheated out of her allowance if it hadn't been for me. Always clung to me, as if I'd been her lifeline, a lighthouse in the storm, a sign pointing towards the exit of a dark, scary cave.
When I entered that school, I was alone. None of my friends had any magic talent, but when I got the letter that I had been accepted, I suddenly didn't have friends anymore. The gifted looked down upon the people of Sage Hill, and we despised them for it. And I was despised for suddenly being one of them.
Harriet Sage, I had worn that name with so much pride, Harriet from Sage Hill, but there, it was an insult. I moved to the dorms, but kept the name.
The only one who didn't act like I had leprosy was Rachel. Perfect little Rachel, with her proper attitude and attire and her bright smile and groomed h
A woman sits at the kitchen table and weeps, in her arms a picture of woven hair. Its newest part, a red, short braid, of her youngest.
It's normal to lose children when they're still young, even Magara's priestesses can only do so much, and sometimes it's simply chance writing the name in the book of the God of the Dead's book.
And sometimes, things like that happen.
It should've been a happy day, a carnival had visited the city, with artists and acrobats, fire breathers and foreign peoples, with trade wares of far lands and forgotten ruins. Exotic scents she had heard that word on the carnival, like so many others strange food, weave in colours she had only seen on the most beautiful of flowers and sunsets, soft clothing, embroidered with all kinds of glittering and glowing things, painted earthen ware and solid iron work, in between showmen from all sorts of places, some one half bird, others partly transparent, reflecting the sunlight from their icy skin, dancers akin
Eine Frau sitzt am Küchentisch und schluchzt, in den Armen ein Haarbild. Der neuste Teil, ein rostroter Zopf, noch kurz, von ihrer Jüngsten.
Es ist normal, Kinder im frühen Alter zu verlieren, selbst die Magara-Priesterinnen können nicht jede Krankheit heilen, und manchmal ist es einfach ein unglücklicher Zufall, der die Namen in das Buch des Gottes der Toten schreibt.
Und manchmal passieren solche Dinge.
Es sollte ein glücklicher Tag werden, ein Karneval war in die Stadt gekommen, mit Künstlern und Akrobaten, Feuerspeiern und fremdartigen Völkern, mit Handelsware aus fernen Ländern und längst vergessenen Ruinen. Exotische Gerüche sie hatte das Wort auf dem Karneval aufgeschnappt , seltsame Speisen, Stoffe in Farben, wie sie sie sonst nur bei den schönsten Blumen und Sonnenuntergängen gesehen hatte, weiche Kleider mit allerlei glitzernden und funkelnden Dingen bestickt, bemalte Töpferware und solides, eh
HEART OF TITANICIf you didn't know my story, but saw me in a book,
You'd read my name, then wonder, and take a second look.
A shadow of my former beauty, I am ruined by many years,
The things that have happened to me always bring on many tears.
I do not hide my sadness, it is fresh and always there
As I wait here so very lonely in my sunless Atlantic lair.
My poor, proud body is rusting away, there is nothing I can do,
Except hope maybe one day, equality will be given to me too.
I recall a sadness filled day within my lonely dark,
When this plastic cup came floating down and on my tomb did mark.
That was one of many times I would give up a cry,
For human cruelness hurt me so, I got this rather than a good bye.
I do not hardly recognize myself anymore, and I say it not to be vain,
But, with truth and exactness to my heart welled up with pain.
Some people truly love me, and for them I am truly grateful.
Others regard me as a rusty ship with eyes that bespeak hateful.
I cannot help what happened
Young Wolfohhh young wolf, you weren't alone
living in a form not your own:
hold each dream, save this feeling
for the night when the sky, its stars
become your only ceiling
ohhh young wolf, you're not alone
use the science of your body's creation
to find your way in the brave new nation
to the north! set out with fox friends
to make this journey, pursue your ends
ohhh young wolf, you won't be alone
learn what you need
of every danger, take heed
travel far and wide for open sky
embrace the wolf inside, it's not hard, just try
run, journey on, this land's your own
ohhh gray wolf, with friends, you're never alone
Let Him Go...-Let It Go, Serenade's version
"The moon glows down on the town tonight
not a pony to be seen
A place of destolation
and it's making me feel empty
The wind is blowing and he's trying to get outside
have to surpress it or somepony might die...
Don't let them know what they don't need to see
be the strong colt you always had to be
be yourself and they won't know
but now they know...
Let him go, let him go
can't hold him back anymore
let him go, let him go
I can't take this pain anymore
I don't care, what my family will say
it's my decision alone...
come on, Shadow, let's run away
it's funny how one little thing
can change everything I know
and the fear that once controlled me
can't affect me at all
soon I'll see what he can do
to the extreme when he breaks loose
no time to stop, got to get away
so they're safe
let him go, let him go
I'm freeing him now, it's time
let him go, let him go
you'll never hear me cry
here I stand and here I'll stay
it's my decision alone...
his power breaking through, I think it's finally ti
La voz del silencio es.
A tu alrededor está.
Cuidándote del mal.
No tengas miedo,
daño jamás te hará.
Cierra los ojos,
y la verás.
Cuidando de tí siempre estará.
En tus días de soledad
que una madre,
No te escondas.
Deja que te abrace,
hasta dormido quedarte.
Que no se irá,
que no se irá,
hasta que tranquilo estés.
No temas de la Oscuridad.
Llora en sus brazos
si es necesario.
Su amor es frío,
pero no imaginario.
y te rodea,
hasta que amanezca.
Confía siempre en ella,
que a tu lado está.
Porque por t
MockingjayIt didn't start with her
Not the girl with a corpse in the mines.
But me in my few years after
Since the day that I turned five.
Not a meadow full of flowers,
But the tallest orchid tree.
We worked all those days long
'Til I did start to sing.
I sing it loud to the Mockingjay,
And they out to the field.
Worker carries wages home becak from that lonesome yeild.
So she can have her arrows,
And she can have her bow.
But I'm the one who started all this,
Dead now in my train ride home.
Tell momma I'm coming home today.
Yes momma I'm coming to stay.
I can't provide food no more,
Nor work in the Capitol field
But I made it past this harvest
And now you're less in a mouth to fill.
So momma don't cry,
No don't you shed a tear.
Mockingjays avenge me,
Against the Capitol, right here, at home.
The ShadowI walk along
to the beat
of my own song
down a lonely street.
Thoughts are swallowing
on the path I'm following.
Suddenly a break,
I listen close
there's no mistake
it's my path he chose.
Fear is swallowing
on the path he's following.
I see him reach,
he thinks he's won
No time for speech
I grab my gun.
Life is swallowing
on the path we're following.
He grabs my pants
but with great rigor
I take the chance
and pull the trigger.
Death swiftly swallows
on the path the bullet follows.
War in Old-VizimaHave you seen a city
burning in the night?
Have you heard the screams
echoing the plight?
The sound of fast feet
running up and down
Blood is on the street
-Just as on our hands!
Get your flag
and get your banner
rise it up
and hold it high!
They will never see us die!
Who comes here with sword and axe?!
Better watch what we got next!
Hold your banner!
Hold it high!
Let them hear our battlecry!
We've got nothing to lose and all to win!
Never giving up, though the chance is slim!
The city may burn and we burn within
But it's never forgotten, nobody did win
The Order come upon a defenseless folk
Yet they died in a well plannend assault
This war has to end, but give us our rights
A little justice may end all the fights...
Hawaiian Dreams. (A song by me.)''Some days, I feel happy as can be. But, somebody will always come to ruin my dream. But, don't worry, there's always a chance that you can overcome the dangers around you. You can overpower over them just feel good about it. Open up your heart, this is your time.''
''Make a stand and you'll be fine.''
''It's all just like a game, just try to win.''
''It's a Hawaiian Dream!'' X3
''Don't get distracted, remember your chosen feel. Don't feel bad your the best around. Let's all hope you don't fall over the ledge. But, you won't! Because, everyone believes in you! Don't let anyone tell you different.''
''Just listen to your heart, and work with your brain!''
''Don't get distracted, it's not about the fame!''
''It's all a Hawaiian Dream!''
''Just feel free!''
''It's all just a Hawaiian Dream!''
''You've already won! Amazing for you! Everybody's cheering for you! Don't let them ever come back! Just have God by your side and you'll be fine! I believe you'll make it every time! Because,
The Hero - Prologue: PromiseTHEY MADE A PROMISE TO NEVER LEAVE
Heroes never die, they say
Myths and legends always stay
Etched into our scripted past
We wished that they would always last
So did they, the Mythic Kind
The No-Ones and the Never-Minds
Twisted scripture to benign
So vision melted with our time
Their tales will never fade
'fore horrid pacts that they would trade
For other's guilt and sickly blue
And demons from the flesh right through
I cannot say much more
About what happens by your door
Listen close to lettered ghost
Floating to the mirrored host
I don't know why, so I explain
So you yourself might find the way
To describe the horrid deeds
Of Fair Folk back in withered day
Sunday morning visitI moved to this city five years ago
Played it by ear, and went with the flow
The night of this city became lover and foe
With time you’ll learn when to stay or to go
Sunday morning, I was sweeping my floor
Heard the bell ring and saw you at the door
Said you didn’t want to miss me anymore
So you snuck out this morning at quarter past four
Turn round the corner, take the last train home
Take an umbrella and don’t forget your phone
Hurry, my sister, this ain’t a place for you
This city will lie and you’ll believe it’s true
Time might’ve passed but you remember your dreams
Carved into bark and stitched into seams
Now passion and memories lie broken and dead
And you wanted to know, did I, too, forget
Took the trail leading down near the river
To the station in the neighbouring town
The tree we used to climb has withered
And they took the tire swing down
You sit at the table with a cup of tea
Say you expected no different from me
So many things moth
Dead Man's SwitchIn control, then not -
Sudden loss of grip.
Headlong to where?
Details lost, smudged, streaked.
Careening; no system of
No dead man's switch,
On a fast track -
With or without a god?
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More