Beauty and the BeastEach step was a drop of rain:thumb216273075: :thumb216315716: :thumb211663187: :thumb209347572: :thumb216457709: :thumb215225181: :thumb213986652: :thumb83845486: :thumb216566245: :thumb193030311:
And each thorn-pricked finger
A drop of love
To stop his heartbeat again
The roses were her world
Her debt and enslavement
Yet never did the shadow
See a trace of tears
A lark in a gilded cage
A voice that haunted timeless halls
She was the Master's comfort
And his guilt
FantasyTwo AM.:thumb178946975: :thumb191739245: :thumb190791861: :thumb187040680: :thumb191775398: :thumb191768259: :thumb183979485: :thumb183726244:
And my fingers are itching to move.
To dance along a blank sheet of paper
And create a world out of nothing.
To etch out the girl I see
With such perfect detail in my mind.
See her? Watch her standing there,
Eyes empty but for the far off dream,
Escape staring into the cold glass barrier of the window pane.
And how my mind aches so
To see a masterpiece in its entirety.
Every single feather and tear drop,
Every blowing leaf and burning fire,
A million snapshots of beauty
Sitting on a dusty rolodex in the back of my brain.
But my fingers fumble along
And the shapes just don't come out right.
And the coffee stain in the corner
Never looks as elegant as I naïvely supposed it to be.
I see so clearly through the translucent glass.
I long to reach out and touch
The life and vivacity brimming on the other side.
Worlds of pain and laughter and joy,
Universes of weddings and funerals and brilliant sunsets
That will never see the light of day.
Because I am not an artist.
And the best
Snape's Final Time With Lily"Eight minutes," muttered Snape to himself. "I only have eight minutes to see her."
He was back in Spinner's End, in the grey gloom of the house where he grew up, five blocks away from where Lily Evans lived. But tomorrow, she would be Lily Potter.
Snape burst out of his house, running down the familiar streets of his childhood. They had not spoken to each other since they were both fifteen, but childhood instinct guided him to where Lily would be tonight. It was where she thirstily drank his knowledge of wands and dementors and wanted to learn more about her magical abilities. It was where they had spent long summer days together, leaning against each other's shoulders in the cool emerald shade of the trees as they watched the sun glisten upon the sapphire river. It was where, at age thirteen, she confided that if she were ever to be married, she would want to stand here alone the night before her wedding, dressed in her wedding gown. His heart was no master of Occlumens; its thumping
Rockman: Skimming Through Time"..." Quint knew that he shouldn't have held off looking in the attic. Good Light, the place was a mess. Sometimes, he wondered what Michelle, the old woman that had been the previous owner of the shop, had been up to beforehand. "Ugh. Time to clean." The dust in the attic caused the old robot to sneeze a few times as it clogged his filtration system., by
"Most of this stuff is just pure junk, anyways." The green-clothed robot sighed, taking his hat off and smacking it a few times to clean it. This only caused more dust to lodge in his system, making him cough this time. "There's got to be something in this box worth selling - hm?" He squinted, wiping his glasses off on his jacket.
He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised to see it in a fortune-telling shop of all things, but it still startled him. "A pocketwatch? I thought these things were ancient." Quint picked the watch up, studying it a few times. It was fairly old-fashioned, with a stopper on the top to set the time. W
3. October. 10A clock. A simple clock., by
And a note.
A note saying I could turn back time.
Saying I could go back and relive that moment.
That awful moment.
But I did.
I went back.
Back to the day you died.
You were sick.
You were so, so sick.
I held your hand and so did Al.
He was too young to understand.
I couldn't tell him. I just couldn't.
So I did the only thing I could.
I cried.
I cried for days and days.
Al cried too.
But he didn't know why.
He didn't know why you wouldn't hold him.
He didn't know why you were so cold.
So I held him.
I told him it would be ok.
I hated lying to him.
I knew that you were gone.
I knew we would never forget.
So that's why I went back.
I told you I loved you.
I told you Al loved you.
I told you not to worry about us.
I told you that we would be alright.
And I held your hand.
I held your hand and remembered that day.
The day you died.
Never forget.
3. October. 10
In Eight Minutes I Could...In Eight Minutes, I Could...by
"Stupid Urahara.." Rukia muttered, "I wish for once I could go into that store without having to return something," she had had to go to that stupid man's stupid shop to return a stupid box of somafixers she bought and, luckily before taking them, discovered he had given her the wrong packege! Now she came home with a replacement box and a fully-charged phone, free of charge... "I'm just WAITING for this rip-off to break..." she muttered as she glared at the plastic bag in her hand, that man was honestly so suspecious sometimes... and he always did something sneaky behind her back...
"I'm home!" Rukia shouted as she walked in through the door and kicked her shoes off, "Ichigo? You here?!" "I'm in the shower!" she heard back, she sighed and nodded slowly, heading upstairs and walking into his bedroom, "That stupid merchant better not have done anything weird..." she muttered as she dumped the little bag out on the bed, being surprised to find that in with th
Fairytale ConsequencesCinderella ran
and the Beauty slept
Snow White was cased in glass
as Thumbelina wept
Cinderella cleaned
Briar Rose roamed free
Snow White was hated
as Rapunzel preened
My story's not a fairytale
nor could it ever be
'cause life is not a fairy tale
you know as well as me
Yet sometimes
somedays
there's magic in the air
but only sometimes
just sometimes to be fair
Cinderella danced
Princess Aurora told
Snow White was taken in
As French Belle was bold
Cinderella heard the midnight
And the Dragon fought
Snow White ate her apple
As the Swan was shot
Our magic moments are wonderful
though at the top we should be wary
of our choices and beware of consequences
that we should never carry
Cinderella crowned
and the Beauty wed
BeautyWords brought forth:thumb190489624: :thumb186101879: :thumb190270554: :thumb172755048: :thumb157668195:
by tongue or pen
are found insufficient
to portray
the unique
gift of God
which is revealed
to any who
encounter her
presence.
Some might think
to call her “angel,”
but that word
stagnates, full of
cultural baggage
imbued with bad
theology and
expectations of
good-looking winged
people in togas
or precocious infants
with halos in pastel
cloud banks;
the fruit of such
shallow imaginations
utterly fails to
convey the suggestions
of an authentic
“other-worldly”
being of wonder
that you may
dare to imagine
as you inhale
the air of her
proximity.
Some may want
to compare her
to a fairy, princess,
mermaid or nymph
but these over-extended
and under-imagined
representations from
so many worn-out
tales, badly written
pulp novels, and cinematic
images with too much
Hollywood mixed in
fall far short of
the unimagined
unanticipated fulfillment
that you experience
from the glimpse
of who and what
she is, which your
soul recognizes
though your mind
fails to un
Fairytale ConsequencesCinderella ran
and the Beauty slept
Snow White was cased in glass
as Thumbelina wept
Cinderella cleaned
Briar Rose roamed free
Snow White was hated
as Rapunzel preened
My story's not a fairytale
nor could it ever be
'cause life is not a fairy tale
you know as well as me
Yet sometimes
somedays
there's magic in the air
but only sometimes
just sometimes to be fair
Cinderella danced
Princess Aurora told
Snow White was taken in
As French Belle was bold
Cinderella heard the midnight
And the Dragon fought
Snow White ate her apple
As the Swan was shot
Our magic moments are wonderful
though at the top we should be wary
of our choices and beware of consequences
that we should never carry
Cinderella crowned
and the Beauty wed
BeautyWords brought forth:thumb190489624: :thumb186101879: :thumb190270554: :thumb172755048: :thumb157668195:
by tongue or pen
are found insufficient
to portray
the unique
gift of God
which is revealed
to any who
encounter her
presence.
Some might think
to call her “angel,”
but that word
stagnates, full of
cultural baggage
imbued with bad
theology and
expectations of
good-looking winged
people in togas
or precocious infants
with halos in pastel
cloud banks;
the fruit of such
shallow imaginations
utterly fails to
convey the suggestions
of an authentic
“other-worldly”
being of wonder
that you may
dare to imagine
as you inhale
the air of her
proximity.
Some may want
to compare her
to a fairy, princess,
mermaid or nymph
but these over-extended
and under-imagined
representations from
so many worn-out
tales, badly written
pulp novels, and cinematic
images with too much
Hollywood mixed in
fall far short of
the unimagined
unanticipated fulfillment
that you experience
from the glimpse
of who and what
she is, which your
soul recognizes
though your mind
fails to un