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Guess Who's A Secret Poet?Tennessee grumbled something unintelligible under her breath as she made her way into the locker room, a large spacious area in where the Freelancers all put their personal items in their designated lockers.
The mere thought of Arizona done absolutely nothing to cool down her frustrations; instead it was almost like someone poured a shit load of gasoline on a dying flame, only to make it a raging, uncontrollable inferno. Damn that smug bastard! Once again he decided to get unexpectedly involved in her recent mission to obtain relevant information about their Insurrectionist foes, and then when she was merely two feet away from securing the package, Arizona stole it from her grasp before sneering a quick “Thanks” before lumbering off with the case.
What fuelled her wrath even more was the fact during their debrief upon returning to the Mother of Invention ship, the Director praised Arizona for his quick thinking and head-strong bravery when in truth she should have been rece
People Can Change Their WaysOver the span of many years Wash learned to never form close attachments with anyone, for he watched South’s unbreakable bond with her twin brother, North, was torn apart by jealously and bitterness which resulted in her playing a part in North’s death; if Wash wanted nothing to do with friendships, then why did he consider the Reds and the Blues as something akin to family despite it being dysfunctional at times?
Even when he was an inexperienced Freelancer, which often became a subject that York used to tease him about, he wanted to be brave, heroic and strong just like Carolina; he never told anyone this, but during his days of detainment in a mental facility after the Epsilon incident he sobbed like a chid, wishing he was dead in order to stop the onslaught of intrusive memories.
The transformation of a being cold hearted soldier into an actual human being with raw feelings and emotions defined who he was as man right now; this time Wash promised himself his next encoun
The Legendary Heavenly Deluxe BeverageBrandon had never once considered himself a great lover of coffee. That was until he found himself standing right outside what appeared to be a delightful and cosy coffee shop on the corner of Fifth Avenue.
Already he was starting to like it even more because of the name itself. How ironic that he was in the Big Apple, a vast city that catered to the needs of caffeine addicts that needed several fixes to keep them motivated day and night. A small smile crept on his face in spite of the stress filled day he had regarding work. Needless to say sometimes it wasn’t easy being the owner of a mechanic garage for cars and motorbikes…
Pushing open the door, a small bell jangled overhead signalling his entrance, the strong aroma of coffee invading his nostrils as he breathed the delicious scent in. For a brief moment he stood rooted on the spot, merely soaking in the atmosphere while admiring the modern sophisticated décor of the vicinity. Not too packed or too em
The Luck Of The Irish“Crap!”
Instead of asking my teammate, Reynolds, the reason for his sudden panicked expression, I followed the direction to where he was currently staring at. My heart momentarily faltered in my chest at the sight of an enraged golden armoured Elite charging up the ramp towards us with his Energy Sword activated. He wasn’t alone though as I caught a brief glimpse of his buddy trailing behind him, bright blue plasma bolts being furiously expelled from his plasma rifle. Luckily none of his hits found their target as I gripped Reynolds’ arm and then proceeded to drag him out of harm’s way.
I quickly eyed the sealed door that was on the same ground platform, about ten yards away. An idea formed in my head and I mustered a prayer to the good Lord above for a spot of guidance.
As I was about to alert him of my plan, I noticed Reynolds’ gloved hands were visibly shaking. I don’t know what possessed him, most likely bloody desperation, but he aimed a C
The Appointed Godfather“Church, can I ask you something?”
The cobalt armoured soldier gave a long, drawn out sigh as he turned towards Tucker. Needless to say the Blue leader didn’t have time to deal with any pointless problems or get dragged into being a referee in one of Tucker and Caboose’s silly little dramas. Whatever it was, Church planned to give a half-assed response before waving his comrade to one side.
“Tucker, I’m kinda in the middle of something right here so this had better be important,” he commented through clenched teeth. His words weren’t far from the truth as he was thinking of ways to search for the missing AI, Omega. “Has Caboose fallen off a nearby cliff to his death?”
“Nope, nothing like that. Uh, dude…have you killed my kid? I can’t seem to find him anywhere.”
“What? No!” Church threw up his arms in exasperation, almost hitting Tucker in the face in the process. He snorted as though he was
The Spark Of Suspicion“Agent Connecticut.” The man bared his white teeth to her in a welcoming smile, a stark contrast to his dark chocolate complexion. “What brings you here?”
“I need to see the Director. It’s pretty urgent, Sir.”
“I’m afraid the Director is preoccupied, therefore he has strict orders that he should not be disturbed. He is prepping some Freelancers for an upcoming mission that shall begin as soon as they exit the room.”
“I see. Well, thank you anyway.”
As CT pivoted around to go on her way, the Councillor briefly cleared his throat. This action regained her attention, turning her body towards the man. If the female knew any better, it seemed that he had a lot more to say. This should be very interesting to say the least.
“If you would like, perhaps I can be of some assistance to you. I’ve noticed there appears to be...uh, two of you standing before me.”
If someone were to listen on their conversation
How The Tables Have TurnedFor the past two minutes or so, Wash’s left eye refused to stop twitching. The cause of this annoying condition took form in the shape of Donut was currently sucking the last remainder of the thick strawberry milkshake through a straw, the consistent hard slurping noises grating his nerves. Why couldn’t the Red soldier nosily drink elsewhere? After all, it wasn’t like they were restrained by handcuffs in a room and being treated like some prisoners of war like when they first arrived at the Federal Army of Chorus’ base a few weeks ago.
At this moment he would rather be by his own. He wanted some privacy to himself in order to collect his thoughts in a calm manner – a lot of events happened over the past couple of days since their first encounter with the British General of the planet’s army, Donald Doyle. However instead of using the time to merely reflect, Donut continued to unknowingly pester the former Freelancer with how much noise he made.
Never Argue With ClownsFor some reason Grif had a feeling he was being watched from afar. He became aware of a presence trailing behind him ever since he began to walk home from school. The sound of what appeared to be large squeaky shoes trailed rapidly behind him- at first the footsteps maintained a steady rhythm before quickening its pace into jogging. However before Grif whirled around to finally catch the potential stalker they just disappeared into the wind as though the seventeen year old merely imagined it.
It didn’t take long to reach the street where he lived on – it was a fair stretch of avenue where mostly old age pensioners resided there. Overall it was a relatively quiet and peaceful neighbour – no signs of trouble and disorder at all.
Or so Grif thought, just when someone tackled him from behind, such gleeful cackling coming from whoever attacked him. What the hell was their problem? Grif thought angrily, lifting his head from the ground and promptly spitting out clu
Tainted With Nightmares“Washington and another died.”
The unseen man’s gentle Southeren rasp, although filled with a solemn tone, sent vibrations around the blue lit room that imprisoned me. The last word seems to echo on and on, piercing my eardrums, but there was nothing I could do to ease the pain. I was completely hopeless, no good at all.
When the word “Died” vanished into the shadows where quietness reigned, it served as a taunt, more powerful than the previous times I’d been subjected to interrogation beforehand. If only I analysed the schematics, no matter how complicated they were, and efficiently programmed them at such a faster rate, then the security failure would have been avoided.
But the burning question still remained. Which other Freelancer, besides Washington, had been killed in action? I had the right to know because even though the Director assured me it wasn’t my fault, the fact the massive lump in my throat hadn’t dislodged was solid proof
When you lose a best friendWhen we said friends forever and
crossed pinkies like grade-schoolers,
I could only believe those words
lodged in your heart
like they did mine
because every time I think back
I can't help but remember the
under star lit constellations,
and study sessions where we
learned more about each other
than we did Biology
but now it's clear
that each beat of your heart
has made those words fade,
and you could care less
about crossed pinkies
but I'll still see you,
and hear your voice
and I'll still wish
the meaning hadn't changed-
Forgiveness takes twoThe words are struggling
to tumble off my tongue,
and despite having
a fleshy cushion
to rest on,
they stain my teeth
and sting like acid
"I'm sorry," I stutter,
but the bitter taste
doesn't leave my tongue-
not because the words weren't true,
but because I know
I won't hear,
She's an artistShe's an artist.
Always seems to be daydreaming,
She draws to escape her pain.
Cause for a single moment,
When her work is done.
It seems like there is no more rain.
And she could finally touch the sun.
The one that shines so brightly in her paintings.
But then it's gone,
So she keeps drawing,
She's become good at escaping.
Running from reality.
Because dreams are the only things she wants,
Her imagination is the only thing she's ever known.
And it's sad really...
Because she tries so hard to be happy.
But the most beautiful thing she could ever create.
Was that smile upon her face,
And that is the one thing that remains blank.
Waiting to someday be something more than,
At peace within this tranquil garden,
I picture the moments where I've made you smile.
Those times are endlessly precious to me,
I think they're worth the while.
They're worth the time I've spent with you,
Even if it wasn't long.
I only wish I'd spent a little more,
Before our love was gone.
Mommy Is A Super HeroMommy Is A Super Hero
Standing before his class, he held his tiny report,
“Who is your super hero?” Was written in yellow chalk on the green board.
Exhaling his breath, the curly haired boy closed his little eyes,
“Don't be ashamed of yourself” His mother's words rung in his ears, “And don't ever cry.”
He began to read aloud, with a shaky voice.
to his class, he told his mother's story.
At age fifteen, she was a beauty queen,
the most beautiful girl in all of the world.
She flaunted her silky hair, bore her bare legs,
prided her breast. The boys treated her like she was a treasure chest.
They respected her rules, they “looked, but didn't touch”,
but there was one older man, who from her, wanted too much.
All alone he met her, he approached her in the alley,
and all his mother told him, was that this man had treated her badly.
But what the boy didn't know was that she was taken against her will,
and that two months later, she turned up ext
Still HereSuicide is a
Thought that frequently lurks
In my mind, wich
Lets it overcome the
Laughter and happiness
Here I still fight, however
Enduring this sad life
Reviving my hopes
Embracing the gift of life
cenotaph of stormsthe first thunderstorm
was triggered by a blunt pair
of scissors, sparking violently
against the lightning,
shaking in the wind.
the downpour pierced,
tattooed with no ink but
the dark bleakness
of an overcast morning,
infiltrating uniformed wrists.
hid behind the music block,
shaky raindrops rioting
fears, she fractured.
the second storm
wept a two year downpour
outline that dripped from wrist
to hip, sidelong silhouette glances
obscured by the rain.
stalictidal waves shuddered
frozen, until icy glass
fell in stained shards from
the stillness inside.
thinner, brittler, growing
in flurries of sleet and hail,
her outline was never filled,
though the floods threatened
the third thunderstorm
was a mist-ridden melancholia,
a dream for permanence
smeared in ink through
fueled by the hope
that just this once,
the rain would spark a
rebirth beneath the ground.
instead, a tsunami
washed away the ink
as tides so often do.
smotherher spine was dusk
and unmade nests,
but he tried to live there
he was neither nocturnal
nor a dawn-believer,
so he suffocated
in the birdhouse of her ribs.
between my vertebrae, you are (cemeterial)oh, these writers never speak; they
claw words out of bird carcasses,
poets pecking viscera like necropolitans.
they count their ribs to remind you
of a corpse or of a matchstick. dry bones
between fissured wrists & funeral pyres,
these have been dying days &
they're all mortuaries.
a dangerous hallucinationThe light coming through the window was bright,
much too bright.
Even though my eyes were closed
I could see it-
The skin of my arms prickled,
sweat dripped from my brow.
It was two in the afternoon but…
the sun was setting
through the window facing east.
I should have seen the hutch,
shelves lined with bone china
decorated with delicate leaves and vines.
I was so thirsty
and reaching for cups that should have been there.
Instead I found a billboard of butterflies,
the colors raging
more than any rainbow
I'd ever seen.
Their wings fluttered and flashed
yet somehow they moved in slow motion.
I wanted to stand,
wanted to reach out and touch them but…
I couldn't move,
and yet I laughed
ignoring my dry mouth
and the tingling in my feet.
There was a tempest
on the rise
and in my blood.
A sugar rush disguised
as a riot of butterflies
and they were swarming me.
There was a small vial
of insulin in my pocket
that I nev
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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