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UntitledThe stress within me follows my every move,
Throughout these troubled times I see myself as a faint shadow of whom I used to be
Yet in other times I see myself as nothing but a failure to the place from which I come
Not a day goes by that I even look to myself as someone of any value yet I manage to make it through these days just scraping by hoping for the the faintest whiff of what lies over these next hills for they are clouded in a mist full of hatred and despair. I want to enter it, to feel it, for it to consume my entire being. Yet pressing forward in such a manner is not who I truly am.
I must stand my ground and walk this shadowed path winding slowly through the swamps and the trees. A jungle at times it almost feels, but at other times it appears to be quite empty. Like there really isn't anything there that can do me any real harm.
Let the rain fallAs the water falls down
I sit within
All around me it hits gently
Calming Soothing Painful
It hides much within its grace
Yet brakes down the strongest of stone
It speaks gentle words of the world
As I move it changes
Making all different
And all better
FallingTo the ground we all fall, upon this earth we lay our heads
Nothing to catch us but a gentle breeze
We drift about in this life like a leaf in the wind
No true direction, only guesses where we will lay
As we land we make no sound
The earth groans a silent sigh of relief knowing we lay safe upon it
It starts to rain
As we lie in waiting drops land upon us
They roll down our cheeks
Cold trails form on us while they roll over our warm faces
To the point tears and rain become one
Our true emotions show
Where love, hate, sadness, happiness,grief and jealousy combine into a bliss of emotion
We become weightless once again
As we continue to fall we think of our life
What we want in it
With such clarity that all is shown, the veil over our eyes is gone
Only the light shows through
As the earth grows greater in view we slow
With the wind
With the water
We become one
Reapers Of the Living One"Hey jack?" James says in a low tone.
"What James?" as jack replies with the tone of annoyance in his voice.
"Do you still remember you life before we got sent to hell and became reapers of the living?" asked James.
Jack utters to James "yea I remember, I miss it every day. Thanks to you though I got sent to that prison and killed in that explosion!".
Whoa, really? You are blaming that on me? It was you who wanted to make the self sacrifice to save that girl that you loved jack. I gave you a choice, I detonate the nuclear device and you live a life with the girl, or we both go up in the explosion and look like we are heroes. But no, you wanted to look like a hero, well we were never really heroes after we were on the run.
Yea James, I know, but still, it's your fault that we got sent to prison you fucking asshole!
Hey, hey knife slinger. I had to kill off my entire corporation, they were corrupt and having me kill the innocent. Heck we barely had any contact before I went ro
Reapers Of the Living :Benny:First Name: Benny
Last Name: Kalkins
Eye Color: Red
Hair Color: White
Cause of Death: Drug Over Dose
Demon Name: Benny
Occupation: Hells Gate Keeper and looks over the reaper program
Normal Attire: White suit from the 70's with a purple silk shirt, has black crow wings
Habits: Randomly showing up at the most inappropriate times for jack and James, Enjoys punishing the dammed as they enter hell, Enjoys dropping his annoying little stalker (Ashley) off with James and jack where she drives them absolutely nuts, always leaves one feather dropping slowly to the ground when he teleports from place to place, Enjoys appearing in front of James when he is getting ready to take his shot on a kill order
Favorite Drink: Dr. Pepper
History: Originally from the 70's he had died due to a drug over does in a club, he was sent to hell because it was categorized as a suicide, Lucifer for some reason greeted him with open arms and made him gate keeper of hell, h
Reapers Of the Living :Jack:First Name: Jack
Last Name: Winston
Eye Color: Green
Hair Color: Black
Skin Color: White
Original Occupation: Military analyst
Reason for Imprisonment: Framed by the government
Cause of death: Assisted suicide by James
Demon Name: Hasn't chosen yet
Powers: Can put extreme amounts of kinetic energy into anything he throws, heightened reflexes, super sensitivity, non human speed and agility, the ability to heal within seconds and have no scars, non human strength, teleportation, when he has his demonic powers he is invulnerable to every weapon known to man, can create a weapon from anything he finds
Job Skills: Top Ranked Marksman, Tracking, Explosives Technician, Manufacturing of Weapons, Survival expert, No Remorse, Insanity
Past Training: Ex Navy Seal, Navy Sniper, Navy Explosives Technician
Weakness: Women, caffeine
History: Lost all family at the age of 12, Lived by himself for years in the wilderness staying in the family cab
Best Damn WomanWhen I was younger, my home life wasn't really conducive to having friends. My only friend for most of my life was my cousin. We were only a few months apart in age, but we felt like twins. Finished each others' sentences, would text the same things to each other at the same time, could sense when the other was in pain or just needed a pick me up. We invaded each others' lives and were the last person we each said "I love you" to at the end of the day.
A little over a year ago, she was killed in a car wreck along with her husband. But there are times I still get those feelings. Still want to grab my phone and send a text. Sometimes, I've actually sent the text and then I wonder who the person is on the receiving end. They've never responded. Not sure what I'd do if I did get a response.
I miss her more than I've ever missed anything. Even her faults. Like when she'd take over my house and force me to do something I didn't want to do. Joining dA was one of those take overs.&
Confessions of a Dom 1As a little girl, I was taught not to trust men. One of the first things I was taught was how to use them. It started with old hollywood movies as soon as I was old enough to understand. When I was around 5 or 6 my mom told me to watch closely as John Wayne's co-star seduces him. Oh I paid attention to that fine ass woman alright, but yo, John Wayne knew what was up on how to get them. I didn't want to use men, I wanted to be like them because to me they were a symbol of strength and I understood that at an early age. I still learned all the strategies my mom expected me to learn from women of old hollywood movies because when you're a kid you don't understand right or wrong. I didn't dislike being a woman, but I just wanted to command as much power as a man in society. Gender seemed irrelevant to me because anything that turns you on is acceptable to me as long as there is consent. There is nothing wrong with being grossed out by fetishes either because the opposite side of the spectr
Confessions of a Dom 2No one can handle the truth, but it is not because we do not want to know it, there is just too much pain. It is in the realm of fiction where we compromise with our escape into fantasy with our need to tell the truth that no one can handle in reality. People are priceless. Objects have value. To own something outside of our own bodies is an instinct that every living thing obeys without question. Ownership can be in everyday things we don't even think about. Even the act of consumption is an act of ownership, which is where I suspect that is where the current term for "self entitlement" comes from. I was born self entitled. It wasn't a choice. I didn't feel self entitled, but I had the power to command. A presence if you will. Its something that is hardwired into my physical existence that I have spent my whole life trying to control.
All doms deal with an anxiety of controlling the power they have because a true dom never explicitly wants to force someone against their will. A real d
3700 FeetEvery Tuesday afternoon, Don sends out an email asking who plans on coming to soaring lessons the following day, and every Tuesday evening I email him back and let him know, yes, I will be attending. On Wednesday, he either confirms if flight instruction is still on, or if it’s been cancelled, usually it’s because of weather. We won’t fly in the rain, and ridge soaring--flying on the wind rising from the valley--is still too advanced for me. I always make sure to checkthe windsock before heading on to the glider field. When it’s sticking straight out, will a full six rings showing, the wind’s blowing at least thirty knots an hour and no one goes up.
It’s actually a relief whenever I get a “WEFI Cancelled” email. Today, I'm hoping for it, even though it's sunny and close to 75 degrees, with a high cloud base. This late in the season, it's likely to be the best soaring weather we’ll have until the spring.
Still, I leave the office at
:Do Something Nice Today:There are 7 or 8 clinical offices. Each one is either carpeted, or linoleum with a giant, torn-up and pilling area rug. Each one has at least 7 or 8 bought-in-bulk chairs, a teacher’s desk, and a whiteboard. Clinicians switch offices more often that I used to think – it seems like these days, more and more of them are “moving on,” and more and more noobs are being hired. Some of the office changes don’t make sense. Nearly non of them belong to their “original” owners – that is, to whomever had dominated each room when I got there – and most of the time, the switches seem random. No one appears uncomfortable with this, which is odd because most of the students are very vocal when something tangible bothers them. I like to think it doesn’t bother me much, either, but it hit me surprisingly hard when the clinician in charge of me moved up stairs. It was supposedly a logical change: her dog is coming starting in November an
this is all i'm able to produce "Okay class let's start the year with some introductions. I'm going to go around the room randomly and you're going to describe yourself in a word!"
Oh. Of course. Our eyes met. She smiles. She's going to pick me. She's going to make me go first. I can't describe myself. I don't know how to.
"You there. You can start!"
Her smile grows even larger. She doesn't ask for my name, so I won't give it. One word to describe myself. There's only one going around my mind.
My spiritual journey
I was raised in a family of devout Catholics. No other religious ideals could filter through their closed minds. And for a time no other religious ideas filtered through mine either. I went to church, prayed daily, and loved Jesus like any other young child fed by a religious spoon. I was locked up in Christian ideals and yet felt so much was missing. For much of my young life I was chained to the church, honoring all the principles and religious laws. This was what my parents wanted, like many parents do, they want their children to be brought up by religious standards. Anything else was seen as blasphemy. For much of my young life I was a dedicated Christian, never questioning the teachings, never looking beyond the curtain. I was a religious conformist like anyone else. But around seven or eight years old everything changed. I discovered Magick not magic, not stale abracadabra pull the rabbit out of the hat magic, but the real thing with candles, and incense, and
The darkest dayThe darkest days have been the Sundays lately.
It's still black as pitch in the BB corner: I'm stuck on a creek without a peddle, not sure where to go but what to do, all I can see is things getting worse... I should never have let it get this far. For the past two or three months I've been living day by day, attempting to work on the bigger tasks and failing spectacularly.
It's getting harder and harder to undertake lengthier projects. Numerous art works in progress have been flat on their back for weeks. Playing piano, drawing, back to work on learning Japanese... it's all getting harder. What's the point of learning a couple of extra kanji now, if I may be under a bridge tomorrow? My game... the drawings for which I spent hours of research are not getting wrapped up. Stories aren't written down. The music I was writing, the bass solo pieces, the sonata for panflute, the paraphony, the street opera, the ballet, chorals, none of these are in working operable position. They all ne
My demonLaying there, quietly, alone
The feeling of something is there, unseen, but there
I sit up, but my body remains laying down
As I shout "show yourself" the figure becomes more visible
I lay back down and see the creature standing there
Glowing eyes piercing through me, Head of a wolf, tall, very tall
Draped in a long black hooded cloak or robe
Its hands, I can never get those things out of my head as it reached for me
Long fingers, almost like claws that are twice as long as the finger as a man
This is what haunts me, this is what hunts me
It grows closer
Help me before it hurts me more
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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