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ControlYou took my actions
You took my words
You took everything
away from me
You took my everything
Can't you see?I'm infected
I'm just another sleaze
Can't you see?
I'm dying from the inside out
All I wanna do is shout
Hate is seeping from my pores
Can't you see?
Chapter TwoThey walked along the tracks until they reached a large, black cast-iron gate. She tried calming her nerves with a sigh but it wouldn't help any.
With one hand, he pushed open the gate. The sound of the old metal creaking broke the thick silence surrounding them as well as causing a flock of crows to flutter away from the warm roof where the last bit of sunset shined.
The pair walked through the clear path past countless numbers of waste and debris had been degrading for years. When they reached the heavy cement doors, she stopped dead in her tracks.
"It's okay," he tried, attempting to get her over her fears and worries surrounding this place.
"No, no," she shook her head, "there's something wrong, terribly wrong. I can feel it."
But in reality, her instincts had betrayed her. There wasn't anything wrong. There were no familiar black cloak-clad guards waiting behind the massive doors with weapons to seize these curious trespassers.
All was still. All was quiet.
And the old bricks call
Chapter one"I don't think I should be doing this." The wind blew slightly past the two standing on rusted train tracks cutting through a deserted town center. He'd found her earlier sitting on the curb looking as though she'd just witnessed a murder minutes before.
Maybe she had.
"Don't worry," he reassured her, "I won't let anything happen to you."
"Are you sure?" The question hung dryly in the air for a few moments. "Of course."
She signed, turning slightly towards the old, nearly dilapidated building she'd been trapped in hours before.
"Alright," she finally agreed. He looked down upon her nervous face. She bit at her bottom lip as her eyes anxiously darted around.
"But we have to hurry," she said sternly this time, walking shakily toward the mess of orange bricks that made up this ominous shape in the distance.
"We HAVE to."
blablablaMy hair's a mess
but I could care less
These sidewalks my feet bless,
as I walk past the houses filled with people at rest
to meet with my love
Above me shines the golden crest
As my heart tremors beneath my breast
This excitement burns within my chest
to meet with my love
UnreturnedEven though you say I do,
I know for sure that it's not true
Because I know I mean nothing to you
In the way you mean everything to me.
DeadI am numb.
I have no emotion.
It feels as though someone has taken a kinfe,
carved a huge hole into my chest,
and ripped out my very heart.
My real, feeling, pulsating heart..
And then they just left me there
To bleed out all my emotions
represented by flowing, scarlet liquid
in a massive puddle around me
forever unable to be put back inside me
that hole in my chest didn't remin completely empty
it is now partially filled with hate.
Hate mostly for myself
hate partially for the rest humanity
none for the world.
I am numb.
I have no other emotion.
Pretty DisasterWeighed down by fear
Feet becoming heavy bricks cememnted into the dirt
Their complex veins turning to stone
My stomach twists and turns in unruly knots
Only to split apart and tangle like cluttered webs
Churning harshly against my unstable body
Now my face is red
I'm almost completely dead
All painted up with fear
I Don't Love You"Your hair smells nice." I smiled lazily into his chest, my grip tight around his waist so he couldn't get up again. His drunken slurs swirled in my head, realizing neither of us would remember this tomorrow. I sighed as I rolled over onto his back, eyesight becoming fuzzy from the darkness of the backyard. Oh, and the alcohol. The grass was so soft. Itchy as fuck, but soft. Then suddenly footsteps were coming towards our awkward spot in the grass. When they stopped, they were soon replaced by laughter. Drunken laughter, that is. There stood the girl who supplied us with what made us this way. She collapsed beside us, basically just as intoxicated as we were. Oh and did I mention it was only the second day of spring break? Shit. i should've explained the day from the start. Forgive my clouded thoughts, my dear. Ahem, anyway.
"You guys should m-make out," Naty said, giggling at the two of us practically on top of each other in the long, green grass.
Porker's Pig-Out Palace pt. 1Marisa hesitated, anxious suddenly, before opening the doors. She looked down at the keys in her hand, trying to get past this nervousness, playfully pinching the meat of her fat, flabby belly with the other. She shouldn't be so nervous, she knew this club perfectly, she'd worked here for a good six months, this should be easy.
Only, it wasn't, because what was behind that door was new. It was hers now, and she had plans.
For a second, she just stood there, nervous, but all of those concerns flew away only seconds after opening the door. She just looked, wide-eyed, and excited now. It was better than she'd imagined. Not finished yet, though, it just didn't seem quite done, she couldn't tell why. Eh, she'd figure it out later. She called back out the door, "Come on in here, Gwen, check it out!"
A few seconds later, Gwen came in, bigger than ever, looking positively massive as she playfully dragged the giggling mass of the helpless, struggling former manager of Porker's, Jo
Death Battle: Deadpool vs. RED Team pt. 2
Deadpool was standing around, playing a handheld game console, then looked up and noticed the camera was focused on him. "Oh!" he said in surprise, "We're back? Well, it's about freakin' time! I swear I beat this game a bajillion times by the time you got back to me!"
White: Technically, it was only six.
Yellow: Really? Seemed like a lot more. Guess time really DOES fly when you're having fun.
"So, to anyone who missed the first fight, here's how things are goin' so far..." Deadpool said, cueing a chart.
RED Team: 6 (Soldier, Scout, and Pyro are dead by now)
"Yeah, I killed the guy stupid enough to wear grenades on his bandolier, the loudmouthed kid, and the axe-crazy pyromaniac." Deadpool filled in, "So, c'mon! Bring it! I dare ya-"
Deadpool flew backward. The Demoman had regained consciousness after being clunked in the head by half a baseball and was now brandishing a grenade launcher with a giddy smile on his fac
Death Battle: Deadpool vs. RED Team pt. 1
Ray: Alright, the combatants are set. Let’s settle this debate once and for all…
Steel: It’s time for a DEATH BATTLE!!!
All was quiet in the RED fortress, its nine resident mercenaries just settling down from yet another conflict with the BLU Team.
But none of them could have been prepared for what was about to happen next…
Intruder alert! An unknown entity has entered the base!
The administrator’s voice rang throughout the entire RED headquarters, earning the attention of every member.
“An unknown enemy is in the base?!” exclaimed a man in a heavy, red coat and an army helmet on his head.
Faster than he usually did before, the Soldier raced to his armory and grabbed his usual weapons: shotgun, rocket launcher, and shovel in that order. As he marched down the stairs, the administrator spoke again.
Protect the base!
Good Ol' Days - TGThings were getting rather tough for Nick Kellins. At the ripe old age of 49, the big fifty was looming over his head. A bad construction injury left him rather immobile and confined to a wheelchair. His four kids had all but abandoned him due to the constant attention he needed; at least that’s what he told himself to ease the pain. Nick’s once thick blonde hair had faded to a dull gray, mostly from stress and the meds he was taking to help with said stress.
He let out a cough as he wheeled himself over to the dining room table which had the mornings newspaper sprawled over it. The old college he had attended was celebrating their recent football championship win and was headlining the news.
“What I wouldn’t do to go back in time and do it all over again…” he sighed while reading over the article.
Nick kept reading while sipping at his mug of fresh brewed coffee. The more he read into the article the more he wished he could be there-- as one of the
Porker's Pig-Out Palace pt. 4And so the girls went, in a slightly different order than they were announced.
Lexi went first, her routine little changed from her older one, Aerosmith blaring, her fat, fleshy body writhing, flab jiggling in time to the sounds of guitar, more gymnastically at the beginning of her set, less so as the songs played on. It was getting difficult by the end, and the reason was clear, it was because of those little pauses she'd take every few seconds, grabbing food from the conveyor belt, working it into her act as smoothly as she could, eating more and more, and letting her fullness be seen by everyone, her belly proudly bulging forward, her hands rubbing across it, massaging it, looking for relief, and finding a bit as she made herself belch, audible even over Steven Tyler's wailing. There was no pause in the act there, she reached immediately to the conveyor belt, looking to fill what space the air had just vacated, cramming a cookie into the space between her breasts, leaning her head c
Porker's Pig-Out Palace pt. 2The girls spent an extra forty minutes in The Cheesecake Factory before they were recovered enough to get back to Marisa's car, both of them groaning in unison as they collapsed backwards into Marisa's Mini Cooper, their combined weight lowering the car dramatically.
They spent the next fifteen minutes scrambling around, trying to find some measure of comfort in the hopelessly cramped space, and failing miserably. Marisa was fine, the car had been altered to fit her, but Gwen was struggling, her thunderous thighs spreading wide under the pressure of her almost perfectly spherical stomach and proud, heavy bosom, too wide for the passenger's seat. She didn't seem able to accept this fact, though, trying everything she could to get the door closed, with all of her massive, fleshy rump contained within the car, repeatedly trying to pull it closed, until Marisa spoke up, “Hey... Gwen? Yeaaaaaaah, maybe you should just get in the back seat?”
Gwen tried a few more times, wincing i
Porker's Pig-Out Palace pt. 7Marisa didn't sleep well that night.
She tossed and turned all night, trying to settle her mind, to make all the little pieces fit nicely next to each other, but it didn't seem to happen. She was angry, at John, at Miracle, at herself for letting her emotions get the better of her. She couldn't sleep, not restfully, at least.
Nine thirty rolled around, and she was where she was supposed to be, in her office, ready for Miracle to walk in, but she looked rough. Her hair and make-up were askew, her outfit wasn't co-ordinated the way it usually was. She looked less like a domineering matriarch, and more like a stressed secretary, four years deep into a fast food binge.
And this was what Miracle saw when she came in, sitting on the other side of the desk, her eyes wide in terror as a fat, serious-looking woman stared back at her.
Miracle reflexively shrank back, "I-I'm sorry..."
Marisa shook her head, "It's not important. So. What happened to you yesterday?"
"I-I panicked." M
Porker's Pig-Out Palace pt. 5Two months after that fantastic opening night, all good feelings Marisa had ever had about where she was going with Porker's had officially evaporated.
She rolled over in bed, slapping her alarm clock as she did so. She didn't want to go to work, she just didn't. Work meant not knowing what to do, or how to talk about it, even. Gwen knew the situation, that conversation happened yesterday.
She rolled over in her covers, remembering back to how that had gone...
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
It was 10 AM, the restaurant didn't open for another hour and a half, and Gwen had come bursting into her office, wanting to know about... something.
She couldn't remember why Gwen had come in, and Gwen hadn't either, forgetting the instant she'd seen her friend looking a mess, all disheveled and half asleep on a desk scattered with papers.
Gwen had been worried, “'Rissa? Are you... okay? Did you sleep here?”
She'd woken up, but she was a long way from alert, mumbling as Gwen moved towards her, waddl
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
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