Cycle One: "Most" Nominations; Thread/Group Nominations Cycle Two: Writing, Video Editing, Art Nominations; Roleplaying Nominations Cycle Three: Best/Worst Nominations Cycle Four: General Nominations Vote away!
Cycle One: "Most" Nominations; Thread/Group Nominations Cycle Two: Writing, Video Editing, Art Nominations; Roleplaying Nominations Cycle Three: Best/Worst Nominations Cycle Four: General Nominations Vote away! darkhorse D Spoiler: Past Don't Blink! Part 1 Have you ever tried not to blink? It's not easy, especially if your life depends on not blinking. The Doctor explained it all, but I'm getting ahead of myself; I need to start at the beginning. It all started with the exploration of a mysterious house. Stone statues of angels covering their eyes littered the yard. I didn't think much about it at the time, but if I had known the truth about them, I probably wouldn't have entered the house at all. The house was empty enough, but something about it didn't seem quite right. Then I entered the largest room in the house and got a startling surprise. The words 'Pull here' was graffitied on the wall on a place where the wallpaper had been torn off. Foolishly, I pulled where it told me to pull, and got another surprise, the words 'Beware the weeping angels'. I kept pulling despite the strange message and soon, more words became visible 'Oh, and duck', I had no idea what that meant, so I kept pulling. The next words were just as bizarre 'No really duck'. Then I came across the most shocking thing yet 'Charles Kaznic' my name. I kept pulling and read 'Duck now'. This time I ducked, and avoided getting the worst headache of my life. I got up in amazement, and went to the window to find out who had thrown the brick. Another one of those angels stared back at me, with no sign of anyone who could have thrown the rock. I returned to the writing on the wall and noticed another line of text under the wallpaper. I pulled and found 'signed The Doctor' there. I decided to take a picture of the whole message. I then left the house to return another day. After I returned home, I snuck back into the house while my parents slept, not knowing that I had done it. In my room I booted up my computer and ran a search for the weeping angels and the doctor. The result that came up was quite odd. The main result was a link to a youtube video that was originally from a TV show called Doctor Who. This video, however, was addressed to me I started the video and found myself in floating in a white, misty space. Then a voice rang in my head, the Doctor's voice. "Hello Charles" That's what did it for me. I freaked right there. I was terrified, and I wanted answers. "How do you know my name disembodied voice?" I screamed. "I'm in your head aren't I?" he replied. "I suppose, but what are you doing in my head to begin with?" I asked. His answer was not what I expected. "I need your help". "How can you need my help, I mean you have a companion traveling with you don't you?" I challenged. "How do you know about the companions I've had?" He asked astonished. "There's a TV show about you" I explained. "Really?" He asked. "Yeah, it's really big, although I thought it was fictional" I answered. "It's not, although I think you wish it was now" he said. "Oh no, I've always wanted to be one of your companions" I replied enthusiastically. "Well today's your lucky day, the Weeping Angels attacked me and sent me to 1975. I need you to find the key to my Tardis and then find my Tardis before the angels do. If they get it first, the universe might never exist as it has." instructed the Doctor. "How do I find it?" I asked. "It should be at the same place you found my message" He answered, "one last thing, you need to bring a copy of 'Back to the Future' with you when you go to the house, I'll have placed an easter egg on the disk that should allow the Tardis to come to me, bringing you with me. Good luck." And with those words of instruction, I returned to reality, but this time I wasn't alone. The angels had arrived. Part 2 I know what you're thinking, the angels got me right there and then, but, obviously, they didn't otherwise I wouldn't be writing this. I didn't know this then, but, when I was looking at the angels they couldn't move because they become stone when perceived, but if you blink or look away, even for a second, they move, and they're fast. Fast enough to get from one side of room to the other in the blink of an eye. I kept an eye on the angels as I locked the window and edged my way towards the door, too scared to look away or blink. When I made it out of my room, I locked the door hoping it would buy me some time to grab Back to the Future and get on my bike. Luckily I was able to grab it and jump on my bike before the angels got out of my room. I started pedaling to the abandoned house I explored earlier. I saw the blue of the Tardis as soon as I got inside the gates. I ran over and tried the handle. Locked of course. I then remembered a key sitting on the mantle in front hall of the house. I was about to enter the house, when I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, the first of the angels returning. I turned to keep an eye on it as I fiddled with the knob trying to open the door. The door seemed to be jammed, I looked away to get a look at the door, not knowing what to expect. When I turned, not only did the angel behind me move, but I found another angel staring at me and holding the door closed. I then circled around to the back door, and entered from there. I cautiously made my way to the front of the house to find the first two angels in the exact same spot and position they were in before. I quickly grabbed the key and got out of there, but not before trying to find out why the angels weren't moving. I got up close and found them staring into each other's eyes, that's when I figured out they're all important weakness. They cannot be perceived without them turning to stone. "HAH, I figured your weakness out! Take that!" I taunted. I then hightailed it out of there, immediately running into two more angels. Keeping an eye on them as I went, I edged my way around them making sure I didn't blink. I then ran to the Tardis, and tried the key in the lock. The key turned in the lock, and I opened the door to a whole new world. "This is security protocol 712." came the Doctor's voice from above. "This time capsule has detected the presence of an authorized control disk, valid one journey." I pulled out Back to the Future, and opened the case to find the disk glowing. "Please insert the disk, and prepare for departure." came the Doctor's voice again. I quickly searched the controls for a disk slot, and then came the first tremor. I knew the angels were trying to get in, so I searched faster, quickly finding the slot, and inserting the control disk into it. I then heard the unmistakable sound of the Tardis taking off. The ride was quite bumpy, but quick. The next thing I knew, the Tardis had landed. Where, I didn't know, but it was obviously on earth. The doors opened, and the Doctor came striding in. "Good work Charles, I knew I could count on you. Now where would you like to go first?" asked the Doctor. "Somewhere in the future." I replied. The Doctor smiled, went over to the controls and said, as he worked the controls, "The future it is, good bye earth, hello everything." Spoiler: Present Pie-lette (My Little Pony and Pushing Daisies Crossover) Prologue: The Gift At this very moment in the town of Ponyville, young Ned, nine years, twenty-seven weeks, six days and three minutes old, was chasing his dog Digby, aged three years, two weeks, six days, five hours and nine minutes, and not a minute older. As the two chased each other, Digby ran out into the nearby street and into the path of an oncoming flimflamobile. As Digby flew into the air, the, at first, playful look on the young earth pony’s face turned to one of grief and despair. He trotted to his once living friend and knelt beside his lifeless form. He stayed in that position for several moments, before reaching out to give his best and only friend, a goodbye pat. As soon as his hoof made contact with Digby, however, the deceased dog glowed with a golden light for a split second, and Digby jumped to his paws and ran off. This was the moment young Ned realized he wasn’t like the other foals. Nor was he like anyone else for that matter. Young Ned could touch dead things and bring them back to life. Meanwhile, in a nearby tree, a squirrel fell from it dead. _____________________________________________________________________________________ Ned’s mother was in the kitchen, baking and swatting any flies that got too close to her pies. One of said flies, landed a little close to Ned. His touch was a gift given to him, but not by anyone in particular. There was no box, no instructions, no manufacturer’s warranty. It just was. To test it, while his mother had her back turned to him, putting a pie in the oven, he reached over to the fly and touched it. Like Digby earlier, the fly glowed a golden light and returned to what it had been doing earlier; buzzing around the freshly baked pies. The terms of use for his gift weren’t immediately clear, nor were they of immediate concern; young Ned was in love. Her name was Chuck. At this very moment the young unicorn was aged eight years, forty-two weeks, three hours and two minutes old. The young earth pony did not think of her as being born or hatched or conceived in any way; Chuck came ready made from the Play-Dough fun factory of life. In their imaginations, young Ned and the unicorn called Chuck conquered the world. In their dinosaur costumes they would stomp on the Play-Dough people, and the cardboard cities they built together. The Play-Dough people would run in terror and sometimes kill each other to get out of the way of the two foals. _____________________________________________________________________________________ Long after their play date was over, young Ned, who was currently being cleaned up by his mother, remained under Chuck’s spell. Until a blood-vessel in his mother’s brain burst, killing her instantly. Young Ned didn’t notice this until he heard her hit the ground in front of him. Not thinking about what might happen, he trotted over to his mother and touched her. As with every other dead thing he had touched, she briefly gave off a golden glow, and then her eyes flickered open. “Must have slipped, clumsy me. Did the timer go off?” asked the now not dead mother. She went to the oven and removed the now baked pie, while Ned went to a seat at the table. Young Ned’s random gift that was came with a caveat or two. It was a gift that not only gave, it took. Just as the timer that was set goes off, Chuck’s father, who had been hosing the lawn outside his home, falls dead. Young Ned learned that he could only bring the dead back to life for one minute without consequences. Any longer and someone else had to die. As Ned made this connection, his mother glances out the window and drops the pie she is holding in shock. In the grand universal scheme of things, young Ned had traded his mother’s life, for Chuck’s father’s. _____________________________________________________________________________________ “Come on Neddy, time for bed” said Ned’s mother, several hours later. Young Ned moves away from the window he’s been staring out of since the death of Chuck’s father, and climbs into bed. There was one more thing about touching dead things that young Ned didn’t know and he learned it in the most unfortunate way. As Ned’s mother tucked him in, she made the mistake of giving him a goodnight kiss on his forehead. The instant her lips came into contact with Ned’s skin, she glowed a light blue, and fell backwards, once again dead. Ned jumped out of bed, and tried to revive his mother again, touching her multiple times before he realized the awful truth about his gift. First touch: life! Second touch: dead, again, forever. _____________________________________________________________________________________ “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me…” the minister droned. After a brief mourning period, young Ned’s father would hustle him off to boarding school, never to be seen again. Chuck would be fostered by aunts Sarah and Juliet Sparkle, renowned magic experts, they shared matching personality disorders, and a love for fine chocolate. At their respective parents funerals, busy with grief, curiosity and hormones, young Ned, and the unicorn named Chuck, had their first, and only kiss. _____________________________________________________________________________________ After his mother’s death, Ned avoided social attachments, fearing what he’d do if someone else he loved died. And he became obsessed with pies. It’s nineteen years, thirty-four weeks, one day and fifty-nine minutes later, here-to-for known as now. Young Ned has become the Pie Maker, his talent for pie baking reflected in his cutie mark; three slices of various pies. He made his pies in a shop known as the Pie Hole in the heart of the Crystal Empire. The peaches never brown, the dead fruit in his hands becomes ripe with everlasting flavor as long as he only touches it once. _____________________________________________________________________________________ “Every day I come in, I pick a pie, concentrate all my love on that pie, if I love it, someone else is gonna love it, and you know what? By the end of the day, I sold more of those pies than any other pie in shop.” The energetic young voice of Olive Snook could be heard talking to PI Emerson Cod, who was getting ready to make his order. “Yeah? What pie do you love today?” responds Cod. “Rhubarb” Cod nods and replies “I’ll stick with three plum. Al la mode.” Emerson Cod was the sole keeper of the Pie Maker’s secret. And this is how he came to be the sole keeper of the Pie Maker’s secret. _____________________________________________________________________________________ A private investigator, Mr. Cod met the Pie Maker, when his Pie Hole was on the verge of financial ruin. Cod was chasing a suspect over the roofs of the buildings surrounding the Pie Hole, until eventually, the suspect made the grave mistake of trying to jump the large gap between the roof of the Pie Hole and another building. Cod’s suspect fell onto the dumpsters in the alleyway below, dying instantly, only to make contact with the Pie Maker, returning to life. A bit disorientated, the criminal made a run for it. He didn’t make it far though, since the Pie Maker, who was much faster than he looked, gave chase and returned him to the grave. Mr. Cod, after observing all this from the nearby rooftop, proposed a partnership; murders are much easier to solve when you can ask the victim who killed them. The Pie Maker reluctantly agreed. _____________________________________________________________________________________ “I asked you not to use the word zombie, its disrespectful” the Pie Maker and Cod were in their usual booth, close to the door, discussing the business of murder as usual. “Stumbling around, squawking for brains, it’s not how they do. And undead, nopony wants to be un anything. Why begin a conversation on a negative, it’s like saying I don’t disagree, just say you agree.” Cod rolled his eyes. “Are you comfortable with living dead?” “You’re either living or you’re dead” the Pie Maker retorted. “When you’re living, you’re alive, when you’re dead, that’s what you are. But when you’re dead and then you’re not, you’re alive again. Can’t we say alive again? Doesn’t that sound nice?” “Sounds like you’re narcoleptic.” “I suffer from sudden and uncontrollable attacks of deep sleep?” “What’s the other one?” “Necrofilia” “Words that sound alike get mixed up in my head” said Cod, shrugging. The great ball of energy and randomness, that was known as Olive suddenly piped up, “Me too, I used to think masturbation meant chewing your food” The two in the booth just stared at Olive, as the smile she wore, ever so slowly fell from her face. “I don’t think that anymore.” “Can you lock the door behind you?” asks the Pie Maker. Olive stood there for only a moment, before taking off her apron, hooking it on a peg by the door, and left, locking the door behind her. Cod watched with a confused look on his face, wondering why the hell did she think masturbation was chewing your food?!? Composing himself, Cod turned back to the Pie Maker asking, “So you want in on this opportunity or not? A dog is involved.” Digby, who had been sleeping on the floor the whole time lifted his head at the word dog. The Pie Maker looked at Digby. “What kind of dog?” he asks. “Is gonna be a dead dog. Dead dog named Cantaloupe. They’re putting her down since she allegedly killed her owner.” “By allegedly…?” “Cantaloupe was framed. Somepony put a part of the victim in her mouth.” “Huh” the Pie Maker said pondering the implications of this statement. “Hey,” Cod pulls out a photo of the supposed murderer. “Docile as a kitten, says the family.” The Pie Maker examined the photo carefully, noting how the dog looked practically harmless. “Despite it being a Chow, the breed most likely turned on its owner?” the Pie Maker jokes “Hey, hey!” Cod exclaims. “That’s racial profiling.” The Pie Maker chuckles at this, as he takes a closer look at the dog. “Look here, if the dogs innocent, that means its murder, and that means theres a reward,” pressed Cod, grinning at the prospect of more cash in his wallet masterofkeyblades Nothing submitted.
Cycle One: "Most" Nominations; Thread/Group Nominations Cycle Two: Writing, Video Editing, Art Nominations; Roleplaying Nominations Cycle Three: Best/Worst Nominations Cycle Four: General Nominations Vote away! starlightstudios2011 Spoiler: Past Spoiler: Present ~Phoenix~ (cloud<3) Spoiler: Past Spoiler: Present Jayn Spoiler: Past Spoiler: Present http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V9dodRONMiU[/spoiler]
Cycle One: "Most" Nominations; Thread/Group Nominations Cycle Two: Writing, Video Editing, Art Nominations; Roleplaying Nominations Cycle Three: Best/Worst Nominations Cycle Four: General Nominations Vote away! What? Spoiler: Past Spoiler: Present Chie Satonaka Spoiler: Past Spoiler: Present http://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=36667434[/spoiler] Dinny Grayson Spoiler: Past Spoiler: Present Ienzo Spoiler: Past Spoiler: Present
Cycle One: "Most" Nominations; Thread/Group Nominations Cycle Two: Writing, Video Editing, Art Nominations; Roleplaying Nominations Cycle Three: Best/Worst Nominations Cycle Four: General Nominations Vote away! Stardust No videos submitted. Damon Salvatore (Cat~) Spoiler Leblonk Spoiler ~Phoenix~ (cloud<3) Spoiler http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I8W_MzVm55c Jayn Spoiler http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ZqHUFNZnao[/spoiler]
Cycle One: "Most" Nominations; Thread/Group Nominations Cycle Two: Writing, Video Editing, Art Nominations; Roleplaying Nominations Cycle Three: Best/Worst Nominations Cycle Four: General Nominations Vote away! Llave de Espada Spoiler Dinny Grayson Spoiler Chie Satonaka Spoiler http://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=big&illust_id=36963069[/spoiler] T A F F Y シ Spoiler Ienzo Spoiler jojoj13 Spoiler
Cycle One: "Most" Nominations; Thread/Group Nominations Cycle Two: Writing, Video Editing, Art Nominations; Roleplaying Nominations Cycle Three: Best/Worst Nominations Cycle Four: General Nominations Vote away! Jayn Spoiler 1. More Than Words [ Acapella ] 2. Lilium [ Acapella ] Amethyst Spoiler Next to me: https://app.box.com/s/42ccmkbqj4z32azv4skb My Hands: https://app.box.com/s/ui3gl2b0038wb07d2lt4 Odamadillo Spoiler https://app.box.com/s/i2x4us9m33x3xpb7v984 greater_bloo Spoiler darkhorse D Spoiler End of Me https://app.box.com/s/3i2l2imllbvpkpvmmte2 Perry the Platypus Theme (Extended Version) https://app.box.com/s/hqnu354xmjhzqtrwx7am Saxima Spoiler http://www.mediafire.com/listen/pt2t4qaub33j34j/FINISHED_FINISHED_E.T._48000_1.mp3 https://app.box.com/s/5xup1t742u2lmbgybqhb Mish Spoiler Almost There https://app.box.com/s/knm6ah97r7ow4mgv6t6y What Is This Feeling? https://app.box.com/s/4kxr12dldfaxdpe2xv82
Cycle One: "Most" Nominations; Thread/Group Nominations Cycle Two: Writing, Video Editing, Art Nominations; Roleplaying Nominations Cycle Three: Best/Worst Nominations Cycle Four: General Nominations Vote away! Odamadillo Spoiler: Darkness eat my heart I've had enough of this crap I'd sooner throw myself into a death trap So I beg for you to smite me here Make my end come near I had an Idol someone om whom I could rely But now they've gone to die I've given up on such a disgrace So just get the hell outta my face I've gone out of my own head Knowing your not worth a single tear I shed And I know I'm not worth your time Believing in you was my only crime Don't think I'm in grief This is a simple belief I want to be hit with a poison dart I've let the darkness eat my heart I believed I was on the hero's track Till you came and stabbed me in the back That's right I've been betrayed Knowing that I still strayed Give me hell's golden knife I've given up on this life Though I'll soon be gone I'll be missed by no one "You've got a future to save" "I Don't" so how can I be brave? What future can we have now? A good one ha I don't know how The deepest caverns of hell Are for those who chose the day they fell So watch this next part Watch the darkness eat my heart I had a dream but it is now lost You've made me pay a terrible cost These are more than mere words spoken They are the last breath of a man who's soul has broken Let my legend end this day And have your memories of me thrown away I'm not a man worth remembering I'm not a man for whom you should sing I'm a fool who has nothing left within A man who has made a deadly sin Take that cold metallic blade And end the story I have made Slice through the one who should not exist Erase the man who should not be missed My legend ended before it got a chance to start Now Darkness eat my heart Spoiler: Why trust in me My life is nothing special I am an ordinary guy Yet you seem to think I'm someone whom you can rely I know I asked to learn Of what you hide So you no longer Have to bottle it up inside I have heard so much Good or bad matters not I'll be there for you And give all I got Still one thing remains through out my reality I always question Why trust in me? I'm a simple man Who resides in this place Yet many confess to me Without knowing my face There is no way of knowing I am who I claim to be So tell me how You can speak so freely I've heard tales of jerks And monsters alike I've heard first confessions And from the guy who stole my bike I heard stories of horror And news spoken joyfully Yet I must still ask Why trust in me? I've heard from the cursed And people yet to be wise And all said to me Is the same in my eyes Never to be spoken To any other Kept in secret for My sister or my brother Some of what I'm told Is known by very few But mostly known by People in real life they knew I'm the first not seen Face to face clearly And to that I must ask Why Trust in me? I may be kind And be there for you I strive to help Anyone who feels blue Yet I know one thing The thing I hold dear I know that I am Needed to be here You all should know The simple fact And that I will make The same binding pact I won't judge, and keep my lips sealed And I can say that honestly Remember that even if I ask Why trust in me? nasirrich Spoiler There's a living legend on here about this boy Nas when it comes to rhyming dude is HOT!! Many have tried to challenge and once they saw he was too much for them to handle they were like STOP!!! He kept going knowing how little control they have over him in the rhyming BLOCK!! Staff came around like cops reporting that they got complaints of verbal assault up in the SPOT!!! Even they weren't able to stop it so they got back up for his rhyming popped off like live SHOTS!! Nas then had to keep order so he changed his flow like frozen water doing his job for he was on the CLOCK!! It’s said he pays a shrink to tell him basically stating that what he does lyrically shows how psychotic he is NOT!!! The rumble from the sheer force from his intense wordplay has cats purchasing aftermarket SHOCKS!!! To underestimate his craft claiming to have supreme skill you better be prepared to fight to stay on TOP!!!! Lyrically I'm Untouchable, Uncrushable ask your friends who's the Illest From that alone you should understand I'm here to kill hits Prospering from eradicating the fib gibberish taking out the ridiculous Vaporizing the ignorance just so others are able to walk with bliss Tell me who's able to dish out spits crazier than this Let me re-state for the mistake for others might think I am trying to tarnish the greats This is not a debate on who the best is to date I was stating how serious I am when saying I wasn't playing On when I said I stay true to my craft Many others only do it just too see cash If that's the case then you should think fast I've come to take you out in a flash Post that pic of what happens when you like to do things adding a dash Of effort hoping to see if that'll make your feeble attempts work You do this for the wrong reason so me calling you out can't make me the jerk I know my history of this sort of art you see The first line of my second verse came from B.I.G. I only said to show how real I came with it be Honestly if you think you'd stand a chance do me a solid Prove you contain more skill then those on kh-v and rock this Claim you're hot so I can come heat seek ya like a rocket Spoiler: Bar Fax I'll make this ruthless so things said will spark How others perceive word art I pound puppies before they get to their first bark Have you reading this back from the start You're going nowhere like a birthmark It seems when life passes by it divides The product of true artists can't multiply Taking away substantial teachings that provides New additions for peaceful minds to combine Spectacular lines that the mind eats to dine Making books something more fine Than that of the bullet that killed a swine Not H1N1 even though this will please the tongue As if you're Spanish flipping it because it has to be done When talking, but it needs to be converted to an idea enjoyed by anyone No matter what no one can take away that fun Acted as if this is an ode so make it grow up like daughters and sons That's why my mic manners don't equal stereotypical standards raising banners not using guns Leaving them wondering how to fulfill the job credentials Could it be that this is another confidential thing that's hidden from the people? The problem with that is this isn't pretend so All that has to be done is live your life autobiographical Don't disappoint the gift those who gave you the gift of being your own individual In others places things like that will leave you marked as a criminal You wanna rebuttal because you don't understand what I utter Leave you with paper cuts with the help of a box cutter Truth hurts, but if you'd like an ISO take a number I just lack the time to care for those who want to wear me down under Like Sydney just with me I'll make em have an eternal slumber Heading forward towards the back my mind at this dark light Forget hindsight that tunnel vision has me wondering if guns are the reason why my heart sounds like Someone thrown in an engine with that bone crushing might That's why I got my life right or trying to get it with her rays of life To be clear if she were here my soul would get tight Choking my inner demon for believing that everyone takes a hike To a corrupt path making others follow with no sight As if they were lambs going to a slaughterhouse assuring they made it right Still got problems with other cats I can end just won't do it For the frequent abuse they have with their ideals of music Not just with me you see they want to be the best calling others stupid I put an end to people like that for how they abused a gift Of rhythm spitting so I leave em sittin on daises as their soul lifts Out from the doubt put in others for wanting a warm family which is pretty sick I bring it to them if they are willing to actual do this So I assure you this is not a diss with a subliminally kick When I got a problem with a minor trick I go up to them to face to face Have them understand the current ability within you isn't up to par with my wicked taste I too am guilty of having the pleasure of making those undermine their own talents saying its a waste Unwilling to feel that pain again so I just broaden my horizons so I can adjust my flow to any trait Not copy nor mimic sorry its no imitation just emulation gotta demolish those who abide by hate I took the evil within myself messing up that fragile mind state Lost it so I hurt others for trying to take Me into the side I used to be on Switching so many times I got 3 styles for these poetic songs Plenty more than 3 just the titles I work under in this section to dawn upon Honesty which is always done and the list gets long Because others put their hearts in each work and judged so they can keep going not end up gone Vinyl Scratch Spoiler: Poetic Rant Like a beautiful wave, you dance across the sea. Like a fire so bright, you beam your light on me. Like a dream, you're filled with endless wonder. Like a stormy scene, you bring about the thunder. Like a timeless memory, your price is off the charts. Like a symphonic melody, you entice my broken heart. Like an amp, you cause so much commotion. Like a Van Gogh, you filled me with emotion. Now it's time to end this wandering charade. Let's call about the demons for my endless night parade. I cannot stand their faces even just a moment more. Make sure when you're done you scrub each and every floor. My heart might sing in daylight but it weeps in the night. That idiotic fool makes me sick with his delight. He thinks that things are easy when in truth they are not. It all just makes me queasy; like I'm sick, I'm burning hot. We face an endless struggle as we fight amongst ourselves. Can't you tell we're crazy grabbing weapons from the shelves? We raise our arms in glory fighting for a solemn truth. Why don't we stop a second and try and act a bit more couth. In our heated passion we have all gone blind. No more action within our idiotic minds. Relax it's almost over, I can see the break of day. So turn your head once more and just look the other way. ~~A most poetic rant, in the form of a poem. Spoiler: Words I can feel the fire burning, deep within my heart. While the chemicals are churning, thoughts racing at the start. I can feel the streams of water running down my face. Like the sun it just grows hotter, as I stand before your grace. The dagger in my ribcage is nothing but a farce. It only adds more carnage to the one that's in my heart. My mind is already fractured, from the torments of my past. My smile manufactured. You add fire to the gas. I am a weak individual. I am hurt with words like those. The pain that's left, residual. My heart it fills with woes. Go ahead and laugh at the boy who shed some tears. But you don't know half of my so-far nineteen years. Words are powerful, so they say. Words hold fearful things at bay. But words can call them all the same. So go ahead . . . call my name. Styx Spoiler: Yesteryears Cradle I. Yesteryear’s Cradle Interlude: Eons Pass II. One Skip From Eden III. Boundaries IV. Violet-Eyed Monsters Interlude: Healing Factor V. Lonely Blue Pearl Yesteryear’s Cradle It could have been the breath of the One Or maybe it were the wiles of none The day that birthed days Snap the light, like a twig, And make a spectrum spark Creation is an aggressive event Having more time and space than it knows what to do with A feast ensues The elementals waltz with one another Soon they’ll all be kings and queens Sprinkling gems across the expanse Soon… Eons Pass Life is gushing growth More than the sum of its parts One Skip From Eden True Rapture Lush and pure “See who we are We are the essence” All in its rightful place A sudden wind blows diff’rence The established vigour startled Cautiously welcomes a pompous thud A foot of a new creature known as Man Boundaries Choosing matter over mind Has me wondering every time If there’s nothing more to find. Understanding from start to finish; It has me glinting through my limits, Probably being good for business. I’m striving for an end of daze When my fingers split the drapes And marvel at what’s outside the cage. Boundaries subside before me As bittersweet chapters in my story, But to the victor goes the glory. Choosing mind over matter Turned me deaf to idle chatter, Absorbing ambition all the faster. I swear to have the present sutured To its trophy wife named future. I’ll craft the jewelry that will suit her. To cut the edges like a razor, To preserve the welfare of our races: That’s why pencils have erasers. Violet-Eyed Monsters This is love, else we wouldn’t have bothered A thirst for your splendor’s secrets, for a clue Having our talons tilt the balance Devastation just to gaze upon you On solid ground our wonders dwindle So on the firmament we’ll lean Working to soon become immune To the inadequacy vaccine. Constrictingly thin Fittingly slick My conscience is feeble and The choice not chosen Is a harsh mistress. There is a heat that will bribe this glass To a humbled puddle it will be melting The atmosphere we once held dear Shall be in dire need of welting. I tell the others horrific tales Of being just one card in an endless deck. I instill fear and hate by being afraid: I am the cobra’s neck. Beads of a new greed gleam their violet evil As we rip the veil off the heavenly bride Assumin’ we are therefore human: One part self-loathing, an equal part pride. This is love, else we wouldn’t have bothered…? Folly’s thunder strikes in cycles. By the next round I’m sure we will Think that he who’s throned on a mount of bones Is somehow still king of the hill. … Through our parallel carcasses we swear: We’ll once again be with you. Your ribcage grin will transform in- -to a hair of the dogs that bit you. Healing Factor Eons are passing Oh, the time this takes to mend Forming boundaries Lonely Blue Pearl She was overcome Hues and shapes draw closer Resilient remnants checking back in They, too, are no longer units No longer science They embrace the ravished matter Work the magic of an untold compassion Are you prepared, milady? Ready for another round of all-encompassing irrelevance? Ready for a torrent of headbutting dualities? Shall I bring the guests then? This survivor, she accepts This demiurge, she is ready She has overcome (Quiet applause) A momentum of matter A phoenix made of stars In chlorophyll necklaced and beshawled Feeling a billion of yesteryears cradle Spoiler: Road to Nowhere Road To Nowhere Dead men tell no tales, but if they did, they would revolve around this place: a canyon shaped like a demon's grin, a rock-solid brown embrace. Every thud of the hooves I command seems to stir another curse. To me and my only friend, I'm sure, this crag will be our hearse. Arid heat scorches and fries my noggin' but my sins flicker all the clearer. Why is it that I think of her while my doom is sprinting nearer? A tavern wench rife with youthful folly, who shot winks like twinkling rays. My personal gold rush finished, convinced to spend with her the rest of my days. But the vastness of the west still impressed me more than a woman possibly could. I saddled my partner in the canvas of the night, escaped my barless prison for good. I'm certain she cursed my unborn son since then, from the minute that she bore him. "Men and women will despise him alike, but bullets will adore him." I knew not where to look or turn when guilt is my opponent. Hence I follow the road to nowhere hoping to lead me to atonement. Indeed, drifting isn't what it ought to be. Freedom is but a term, no more. I sense various twitches underneath me: my companion's legs are sore. "I'm sorry, loyal friend", I say "I'll walk with you on foot." Though he still quakes as if hit by bolts, kneels in the desert's burning soot. Exhaustion legible on his face, his neighing reduced to a feeble tone. With a heavy stomach I understand: from this point on I roam alone. At least the sands of the wastes are courteous to shield me from the tragedy behind. Perhaps I should have stayed with him: What is it that I have left to find? Remorse beats me, batters and harasses me This raging sandstorm has woes to sell. These doomed joints click into place for one more leap into farewell. The images of everyone I ever wronged, like ghouls they enter my throat and choke me. But it's not my love, son or deceased comrade 'Tis I and I alone who broke me. Lucy♥Heartfilia (Maka) Spoiler: My Weary Head There’s a time of peace and rest, they all say But my theory might make them insane For when I close my eyes and dream It’s shadows and sorrows as far as I can see Moonlight, sunlight, nightlight, flashlight, no light It doesn’t matter; the tears roll and the brain will fight Monsters love my closet, and ghouls devour my visions The fear, the depression, and the anxiety are the provisions Night falls, and let the games begin Morning comes, seeing is a sin Oh will it just let me rest? But I think it’ll never hear my protests Spoiler: The Price of Solitude The damage was done Blood on dead grass ran dry Knife in hand glinted under the sun And all she could do was cry Shredded fragments of faces left Faces she once saw and then hid Strewn around her, sore with regret To the dark one she gave after the bid The bid that she wished to take back But could she now? Oh no For night has risen and the mirror now cracked Summer fades, in comes winter's snow Happiness to her was not a dream Nightmares and darkness was her security Once something good would come her way it seemed Time to cut ties and try to show no pity Alone, alone she would always be Friendships, smiles, that was not her way If only, only she saw the mask she would scream For this was not her, she was actually brave For that moment she saw the light And sometimes felt the warmth of that embrace Fear would overcome her, oh what a fright Friends became demons, her mind shed no grace The crime was committed, no honor was paid Loved ones, dear ones close to her now gone Down on the ground the knife she laid And no more sought for another dawn ⟣ HYUGE ⟢ Spoiler: Fading Lights flashing,love fading,darkness seeping inthrough every pour.Crimson redtrickles down from my mouth.What does it matter anymore?It's all just a lie.What's the point in trying?Happiness?It's just a myth.My protection is gone.Who will be my anchor?Why did I bother listening?There is a pounding in my head.Larger and larger it grows. . .Please, make it stop!I can't feel my arms. . .My chest is constricting.Everything is fading.Lighter and lighter I fall.Where will I stop?The lights are gone now.There is only blackness.Will you catch me?Trust no one--that is what I've learned.If only I knewbefore. . . Spoiler: Dreaming Dreaming like the night.Freathers golden as summer.Please don't let this end.Rain washes overmy body, soaked to the bone.I am sinking now.It is not so bad.I quite like the ending here.Dreams are what you make.The best shall only beas great as you let it grow.Flowers blossoming.The tides are turning.Water begins to churn, sodrop your life anchor.Flashes of bright light,blinding as far as the eyecan see. Do you see?Everything is gone.I am losing my bearings.The ground vanishes.Spiraling downwards;landing on a bed of clouds?Where have I gone now?Drip, drop. Drip, drop, drip.The sun is fading away.The clouds separate.I begin to fall.when will this dream end for me?Twisting, churning. Drip.Surreal -- is how itfeels for me. What about you?What is your dream like?Do you dream of clouds?Is it sunsets and moonlight?Walking on water?Is there someone there?Does it have a happy end?Does it bring you tears?Mine are usuallyfilled with monsters. Cruel is life.Dream to take the pain.I like to sleep whenI am hurting. How 'bout you?Do you feel better?I usually don't.The pain seeps in and distortsmy dreams. Nightmares come.This is my last dream.I will never awaken.I see you out there.You are waiting forme. Tears, streaking down my face.We are together.
"Be Strong" by Odamadillo "A Life it has Been" by Myst Cycle One: "Most" Nominations; Thread/Group Nominations Cycle Two: Writing, Video Editing, Art Nominations; Roleplaying Nominations Cycle Three: Best/Worst Nominations Cycle Four: General Nominations Vote away!
Cycle One: "Most" Nominations; Thread/Group Nominations Cycle Two: Writing, Video Editing, Art Nominations; Roleplaying Nominations Cycle Three: Best/Worst Nominations Cycle Four: General Nominations Vote away! Marushi Spoiler DPWolf No samples submitted. Llave de Espada Spoiler
Cycle One: "Most" Nominations; Thread/Group Nominations Cycle Two: Writing, Video Editing, Art Nominations; Roleplaying Nominations Cycle Three: Best/Worst Nominations Cycle Four: General Nominations Vote away! Plums Spoiler: Beachbound Under the ground, I built a blue silence -- safe from the sound of you distant stomping titans. There's no sound but the sea. Right now, he's digging. Ten years old, buck teeth poking from beneath the blanket of his lips. Sand swells between his fingernails. It's like an infection, trying to find its way inside him. But it's something he welcomes. His hands lunge backwards. Sand flies, plopping to the ground behind him as his hands scratch at the grond once more. The dichotomy of the sound, the scratch and the plop, is too familiar to him. He closes his eyes as he moves his hand back once more. The plop of the clothes to the ground behind the closed door. The scratch of his father's voice climbing up the stairs. Plop, scratch, plop, scartch. The boy's hands stop. This is where the noise kicks up. He begins to beat at the sand. It rattles beneath his palms. This is where his father walks up the stairs. The door shall open with a brief creak. His palms roll into fists. This is where the yelling should begin. His father should be heard first. The boy punches the sand with his right hand -- steady and forceful. After this, his sister's voice should rise. The boy gives a soft, yet swifter punch to the sand. They should continue like this for a few minutes. It should be about their mother. Pale skinned, frail; he doesn't remember much about her. The closest thing he can recall is the smell of her hair -- just like the beach. His sister should say she's tired of these clothes being pushed in her closet. Swift punch. The closet is her space, not the space for the shadow of a mother she barely got to see. His dad should raise his voice even higher. Forceful punch. He should say she should stop being selfish, that she should be glad pieces of her mother are there to look over her. That she should be glad that she can look at the clothes and see her mother, upbeat and healthy, in them. Forceful punch. At this point, he should shove them back in the girl's closet, and threaten her with punishment. The girl compies against her will, plopping onto her bed. His father should wallk down the stairs now, his eyes looking ahead but his attention falling back. What he doesn't say is that he shouldn't force her on his daughter; that he shouldn't force the shadow that haunts him every day onto someone else. He should say this, but he won't. The boy uncurls his fists. He looks into his hands for a moment. They're soft, notoriously so. His father tells him that his mother used to wrap his fingers in her hands. The boy smiles. He looks down into the sand, a hole waiting before him. He scoots into it, the shadows of the grains wrapping around him in an embrace. He shifts a bit. Where his father and sister push it away, he welcomes it. The shadow of his mother, entwining him. Whenever his father and sister fight, he comes down her to see her. She is the sand, the water -- a silence lost but never moving. "Mother, I'm home." Spoiler: Yesterday's Promise Today, I am going to visit the beach once again. The breeze greets me with a light kiss to the cheek as I close the door behind me. The sun showers over me; the rays sprinkle my fair skin tan, and I bask in its oven glow. At first, it it is cold. It stings through my flesh. Then, it warms; my skin smarts beneath the quiet heat. It wraps me in its covers and keep me stuck to it. It is me, and I am it. Yet, the embrace is as temporary as time. The covers leave me, and I am left to myself once more. The sun says farewell, and the sky splits open to night. I continue to the beach, lead feet dragging themselves forward. I see the town rise and fall before my eyes. The broken down shops cling to the shadows. There are children running about, but I do not hear them. They are gone to me, foreign bodies invading my view. They will be a disease that plagues me, just like everything else that reminds me of her. By now, she has grown into a woman. She has little to no recollection of me. It pains me with each step through the minutes. With each mile I walk, with each hour that passes, she will be further gone. I remember it quite clear; one day, she was here, a sleeping angel in her cradle. I fell asleep in the shadow of my wife, the peace of the scene lulling me to sleep. When I next opened my eyes, the angel was gone and the shadow had fled. The pavement turns to sand beneath my feet. Water rises and falls on the shoreline. I bend over in the sand, my finger making lines in the earth. Even now, twenty years gone past, I still try to trace her cheekbones in the surface, trying to recapture the image in the throes of memory. Maybe if the image is preserved, she will return. Maybe the memory can give way to reality, and I would have the sleeping angel once more. I almost have her face, when my fingers spasms, and a line crosses through it. I kick and stomp through the sand. I am crying, I am lost. Memory is an embrace, and no more durable than time. What? Spoiler: Forgotten by Time xxxxxFrom the chorus of the rain, the old man did not notice the girl pulling his sleeve. xxxxxHey, mister, mister, she cried, holding her umbrella tight as her boots splashed muddy water around the other graves. xxxxxMister, mister. Tinged with chords of innocence and warmth. But her voice fell on deaf ears, for the old man was too fixated on the one stone monolith that stood in front of him. And from the chorus of the rain, even this grave seemed precarious enough to topple at any moment; if he were to take his eyes off for a split second. xxxxxHey mister, mister. xxxxxThe man did not budge, and dug his face, wisened with the cracks of melancholy, deeper into his red scarf. His body was rigid, cold, and unfeeling. A statue that felt just as home in this cemetery as the other monuments to those that passed on. But this girl, she wouldn't stop. She wouldn't let up, and even if her voice was drowned out by the rain she would keep going and going. Hey mister, mister. xxxxxMister, she would ask. Mister, why do you look at that one grave all day? She would ask this, because every day she would see the old man in his familiar red scarf and black coat, clutching something in his shaking hand; she couldn't see it, she couldn't ever see it, but the fact that he struggled in simply holding it meant she knew it existed even if she couldn't see it. And this old man, all he would do is stand by the graves. He would stand by the one decaying grave; a piece forgotten by time, where the malicious winds washed away the inscription that proved a life had once existed, and the earth commanded its armies of moss to return the stone back to its home. The cracks on the stone were as numerous as the contours of his languid face. Where the old man was fixated on the grave, she was all-too fixated on the old man, in the sense of child-like inquisitiveness that dominated one's youngest years. xxxxxBut the rain, it was heavy today. She wouldn't let her chance so quickly get away, and today the child came prepared. She tugged and tugged on the old man's sleeve, and as he stood still as a statue, she scrunched up her face in dismay. Right. She turned away from the man, allowing the rain to hit her curly hair for just a moment. She reached inside her pocket with her small hand and brought out a red-and-white metal sphere. The rain hit the sphere with a noiseless intensity. The girl looked around just briefly, and brought the sphere to her forehead. It was the same, every day; the old man was the only one here. xxxxxShe turned back to the old man and yet again tried to pull on her sleeve. No, no dice, no change. So she went with her second plan, and moved closer to the old man. Her clear plastic umbrella touched the old man's old red canopy, sheltering them both from the rain just briefly. And with a wry smirk, she held out the red-and-white sphere. xxxxxTo her surprise, the old man moved. He turned his head just an inch, to gaze at the sphere. The rain was relentless against their umbrellas now, and the pitter-patter surrounded them as if a battle raged around them, but hidden from them; in the bushes, in the clouds, but never directly around them, an infinite distance away. xxxxxThe girl looked into his eyes. They were strained, as if working out the details of the sphere. Even in the rain, they shone brightly with flecks of dazzling light, and the old man's age gave them a telltale fade. Yet, this fade was strung together with a shadow of sadness and overarching regret that sat upon his shoulders with the weight of the Earth. But even in this, he continued to stare, and the girl watched with curiosity as these pensive eyes of his grew wide. His mouth tried to form words, and he spoke to himself in his mind, as his lips made slight movements and minute twitches that said nothing but explained enough. xxxxxSo she asked a question, but did not tug at his sleeve. xxxxxMister, she began. Mister. Do you remember? xxxxxThe old man snapped his gaze to meet her own with a lightning-bolt intensity. For that brief, fleeting moment in time, the girl felt the richness that once made this man whole. The experience, the challenges, and the feelings of success. The emotions, the despair, the sorrow, the heroism. The fickle nature of loss, and the deep roots of love. But the chorus of rain overtook it, and it too began to slowly fade from existence. The old man's mouth was frozen in time, slightly open and ajar, but it slowly began to descend into the subtle arch of a frown. It was not the frown of anger, that masked hate and fear, or the frown of depression, that masked the loneliness, but it was the frown of realization. The chorus of rain grew loud in his ears, and the wind blew coldly on his back. There was not another voice to be heard in the vast miles of this cemetery. xxxxxExcept the young girl's. xxxxxHe began to move his hand, the one he hid so well; the one that shook as it grasped something tightly. He brought it in front of him, close towards the girl and her sphere, and the girl's heart raced with a giddy jump of surprise and excitement. His movements were robotic and hollow, and what he held in his hand had seen better days. xxxxxThe old man's bony hand held a faded, red-and-white cap, patched in places, burnt in others. The girl felt the old man's wisdom engraved on the hat; it wasn't simply an accessory, but a part of the life that he once loved. And in the hat sat a small red-and-white sphere, almost identical to her own. The only difference was the small lightning bolt engraved above the sphere's white button. His hand shook, but it could have just been from the rain. xxxxxThe girl turned her gaze back to the old man, and noticed that his gaze broke off from hers. He seemed distracted, as if looking at something that lay beyond his simple reality, forgotten in time. xxxxxI remember. xxxxxThe girl was taken aback. xxxxxThe old man did not say anything else, but he continued to look through the ground, then turned his head to look straight through her. It was as if she didn't seem to exist to him. But this was her chance. The girl gripped her umbrella more tightly, and repeated the question that eluded her ever so much. xxxxxMister, why do you look at that grave all day? xxxxxHer question pierced the chorus of rain, and to the old man, it was as if the chorus grew silent. xxxxxHe turned away from the girl, and back to the grave, tightly gripping his hat and the sphere that lay dormant within it. The girl stepped back, giving the old man some space. He knelt down close to the unmarked grave, and laid his hat – and the sphere within it – by the base of the stone, allowing the hat to shelter the cold little sphere from the merciless rain. And his hand shook little, for the spell that gripped his soul had released itself to the winds. xxxxxI look at graves all day, he said. xxxxxI look at graves all day, he said, because if I were to take my eyes off for one second, xxxxxTime would forget you, xxxxxPikachu. Schrodinger's Knot Saxima Reflection Riku ponders on the events since he left Destiny Islands. Styx Access Spoiler: Killswitch Killswitch There are tales to tell As implied by clenched teeth yellowed by silence and disbelief Sightings of well-dressed men feeding cough drops down a shaft To ascertain that the dust remains in place A brave intruder wandered into this oblivion Shedding their flashlight on prototypes of the apocalypse And even though their rope home was hatcheted Undead arms clawed their way to the surface…to live the hermit’s life Curiosity had broken the cat Therefore I say we detonate, become the dreaded emergency The belly of the ghast monster that had swallowed the bomb Will explode into a treasure trove of booming truth Our feet and fingers held upon the tissue flakes to keep them from re-fusing There are tales to tell, and we want to hear them Jiku Neon It's night Spoiler: Darunter Kira was furious with herself. Her fingers were bruised and bleeding from her most recent outburst against an unsuspecting wall. Hughes was still crying. He'd been crying for hours. The rest of the battle monks were performing the normal, dispassionate sending ceremony to ensure their fallen comrade wouldn't return as an evil spirit. The whole scene felt disgusting. Erica spat into the dirt hoping it'd clear the painful metallic tang from her mouth. Hoping that she'd somehow no longer feel if she did something. But other than that she remained stark still, staring out over the field. A rather ungraceful bellow from Kira. She'd managed to hurt herself again. Erica couldn't help but scoff slightly. Before she'd even taken another breath Kira was in front of her, incensed. “What is it?” “....” “You want to say, 'I told you so.'?” Kira snarled, more and more beastly with each passing day, this one. “You want to say that he should've just backed off like you?” “I don't see what you're so angry about.” “I--” “It's not like you just lost your first friend.” Erica continued calmly. “It's not like you get to tell his family that they'll be bur-- rather, they won't be able to even bury their only son. It's not like you got to hear the news from the people who swore he was going to be taught to survive. It's not like you were told that this was gonna be a cinch. It's not like you couldn't even be there for him. No... I don't see what you're so angry about.” With that Erica turned and began walking. “I'm sorry...” She heard someone saying-- no-- whispering, as she stalked off in silence. Even her footfalls felt light, like she might just float away. “Dead.” She heard her own voice express the idea, felt her own lips give it shape, but it seemed so foreign to her. “Tommy's dead.” That same feeling of disconnection from her own actions. There was nothing for it. Nothing that could be done now. Not that she could've ever made a difference. Not that she was even involved anymore. Erica sighed. She'd been walking aimlessly for a while by now and found herself on an unfamiliar street. She didn't recognize any of the roadsigns or storefronts. She'd normally have felt worried. Scared, even. But now there was nothing. She just took it in stride and kept walking. That's what legs are made for. Put one foot in front of the other and the body will follow, it's called walking. Do it faster and it's running. Before she knew it Erica was running. She still had no idea where she was. She still had no idea what she was doing or why she was doing it. She smiled. Another seemingly involuntary action. Same for the tears. She kept running through it all. What felt like miles and miles later she was out of breath, stopped and aching from her exertions, but she was in a familiar neighborhood. “Now's as bad a time as any.” She said aloud, her own thoughts being drowned out by her heaving breaths and pounding blood. Then she put her right foot in front of her left and then her left in front of her right and started walking to the nearest house. A house she'd been to many times before. Only those times she wasn't alone. She stood for several minutes at the door, almost waiting for someone to come and tell her she was wrong. No such luck. She reached out to knock and then withdrew her hand. She reached out and withdrew three times before the door opened. Tommy's mother had seen her. “Erica! You look awful! Has something happened?” She exclaimed. “Is your husband home?” Erica asked. Her voice as dead as her bleary eyes. With a moment's hesitation the middle aged woman answered that he was. Erica dropped head. “Can I come in?” http://kh-vids.net/threads/darunter.96119/#post-3977038 darkhorse D Spoiler: Pushing Daisies: Pie-lette (My Little Pony and Pushing Daisies crossover) At this very moment in the town of Ponyville, young Ned, nine years, twenty-seven weeks, six days and three minutes old, was chasing his dog Digby, aged three years, two weeks, six days, five hours and nine minutes, and not a minute older. As the two chased each other, Digby ran out into the nearby street and into the path of an oncoming flimflamobile. As Digby flew into the air, the, at first, playful look on the young earth pony’s face turned to one of grief and despair. He trotted to his once living friend and knelt beside his lifeless form. He stayed in that position for several moments, before reaching out to give his best and only friend, a goodbye pat. As soon as his hoof made contact with Digby, however, the deceased dog glowed with a golden light for a split second, and Digby jumped to his paws and ran off. This was the moment young Ned realized he wasn’t like the other foals. Nor was he like anyone else for that matter. Young Ned could touch dead things and bring them back to life. Meanwhile, in a nearby tree, a squirrel fell from it dead. _____________________________________________________________________________________ Ned’s mother was in the kitchen, baking and swatting any flies that got too close to her pies. One of said flies, landed a little close to Ned. His touch was a gift given to him, but not by anyone in particular. There was no box, no instructions, no manufacturer’s warranty. It just was. To test it, while his mother had her back turned to him, putting a pie in the oven, he reached over to the fly and touched it. Like Digby earlier, the fly glowed a golden light and returned to what it had been doing earlier; buzzing around the freshly baked pies. The terms of use for his gift weren’t immediately clear, nor were they of immediate concern; young Ned was in love. Her name was Chuck. At this very moment the young unicorn was aged eight years, forty-two weeks, three hours and two minutes old. The young earth pony did not think of her as being born or hatched or conceived in any way; Chuck came ready made from the Play-Dough fun factory of life. In their imaginations, young Ned and the unicorn called Chuck conquered the world. In their dinosaur costumes they would stomp on the Play-Dough people, and the cardboard cities they built together. The Play-Dough people would run in terror and sometimes kill each other to get out of the way of the two foals. _____________________________________________________________________________________ Long after their play date was over, young Ned, who was currently being cleaned up by his mother, remained under Chuck’s spell. Until a blood-vessel in his mother’s brain burst, killing her instantly. Young Ned didn’t notice this until he heard her hit the ground in front of him. Not thinking about what might happen, he trotted over to his mother and touched her. As with every other dead thing he had touched, she briefly gave off a golden glow, and then her eyes flickered open. “Must have slipped, clumsy me. Did the timer go off?” asked the now not dead mother. She went to the oven and removed the now baked pie, while Ned went to a seat at the table. Young Ned’s random gift that was came with a caveat or two. It was a gift that not only gave, it took. Just as the timer that was set goes off, Chuck’s father, who had been hosing the lawn outside his home, falls dead. Young Ned learned that he could only bring the dead back to life for one minute without consequences. Any longer and someone else had to die. As Ned made this connection, his mother glances out the window and drops the pie she is holding in shock. In the grand universal scheme of things, young Ned had traded his mother’s life, for Chuck’s father’s. _____________________________________________________________________________________ “Come on Neddy, time for bed” said Ned’s mother, several hours later. Young Ned moves away from the window he’s been staring out of since the death of Chuck’s father, and climbs into bed. There was one more thing about touching dead things that young Ned didn’t know and he learned it in the most unfortunate way. As Ned’s mother tucked him in, she made the mistake of giving him a goodnight kiss on his forehead. The instant her lips came into contact with Ned’s skin, she glowed a light blue, and fell backwards, once again dead. Ned jumped out of bed, and tried to revive his mother again, touching her multiple times before he realized the awful truth about his gift. First touch: life! Second touch: dead, again, forever. _____________________________________________________________________________________ “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me…” the minister droned. After a brief mourning period, young Ned’s father would hustle him off to boarding school, never to be seen again. Chuck would be fostered by aunts Sarah and Juliet Sparkle, renowned magic experts, they shared matching personality disorders, and a love for fine chocolate. At their respective parents funerals, busy with grief, curiosity and hormones, young Ned, and the unicorn named Chuck, had their first, and only kiss. _____________________________________________________________________________________ After his mother’s death, Ned avoided social attachments, fearing what he’d do if someone else he loved died. And he became obsessed with pies. It’s nineteen years, thirty-four weeks, one day and fifty-nine minutes later, here-to-for known as now. Young Ned has become the Pie Maker, his talent for pie baking reflected in his cutie mark; three slices of various pies. He made his pies in a shop known as the Pie Hole in the heart of the Crystal Empire. The peaches never brown, the dead fruit in his hands becomes ripe with everlasting flavor as long as he only touches it once. _____________________________________________________________________________________ “Every day I come in, I pick a pie, concentrate all my love on that pie, if I love it, someone else is gonna love it, and you know what? By the end of the day, I sold more of those pies than any other pie in shop.” The energetic young voice of Olive Snook could be heard talking to PI Emerson Cod, who was getting ready to make his order. “Yeah? What pie do you love today?” responds Cod. “Rhubarb” Cod nods and replies “I’ll stick with three plum. Al la mode.” Emerson Cod was the sole keeper of the Pie Maker’s secret. And this is how he came to be the sole keeper of the Pie Maker’s secret. _____________________________________________________________________________________ A private investigator, Mr. Cod met the Pie Maker, when his Pie Hole was on the verge of financial ruin. Cod was chasing a suspect over the roofs of the buildings surrounding the Pie Hole, until eventually, the suspect made the grave mistake of trying to jump the large gap between the roof of the Pie Hole and another building. Cod’s suspect fell onto the dumpsters in the alleyway below, dying instantly, only to make contact with the Pie Maker, returning to life. A bit disorientated, the criminal made a run for it. He didn’t make it far though, since the Pie Maker, who was much faster than he looked, gave chase and returned him to the grave. Mr. Cod, after observing all this from the nearby rooftop, proposed a partnership; murders are much easier to solve when you can ask the victim who killed them. The Pie Maker reluctantly agreed. _____________________________________________________________________________________ “I asked you not to use the word zombie, its disrespectful” the Pie Maker and Cod were in their usual booth, close to the door, discussing the business of murder as usual. “Stumbling around, squawking for brains, it’s not how they do. And undead, nopony wants to be un anything. Why begin a conversation on a negative, it’s like saying I don’t disagree, just say you agree.” Cod rolled his eyes. “Are you comfortable with living dead?” “You’re either living or you’re dead” the Pie Maker retorted. “When you’re living, you’re alive, when you’re dead, that’s what you are. But when you’re dead and then you’re not, you’re alive again. Can’t we say alive again? Doesn’t that sound nice?” “Sounds like you’re narcoleptic.” “I suffer from sudden and uncontrollable attacks of deep sleep?” “What’s the other one?” “Necrofilia” “Words that sound alike get mixed up in my head” said Cod, shrugging. The great ball of energy and randomness, that was known as Olive suddenly piped up, “Me too, I used to think masturbation meant chewing your food” The two in the booth just stared at Olive, as the smile she wore, ever so slowly fell from her face. “I don’t think that anymore.” “Can you lock the door behind you?” asks the Pie Maker. Olive stood there for only a moment, before taking off her apron, hooking it on a peg by the door, and left, locking the door behind her. Cod watched with a confused look on his face, wondering why the hell did she think masturbation was chewing your food?!? Composing himself, Cod turned back to the Pie Maker asking, “So you want in on this opportunity or not? A dog is involved.” Digby, who had been sleeping on the floor the whole time lifted his head at the word dog. The Pie Maker looked at Digby. “What kind of dog?” he asks. “Is gonna be a dead dog. Dead dog named Cantaloupe. They’re putting her down since she allegedly killed her owner.” “By allegedly…?” “Cantaloupe was framed. Somepony put a part of the victim in her mouth.” “Huh” the Pie Maker said pondering the implications of this statement. “Hey,” Cod pulls out a photo of the supposed murderer. “Docile as a kitten, says the family.” The Pie Maker examined the photo carefully, noting how the dog looked practically harmless. “Despite it being a Chow, the breed most likely turned on its owner?” the Pie Maker jokes “Hey, hey!” Cod exclaims. “That’s racial profiling.” The Pie Maker chuckles at this, as he takes a closer look at the dog. “Look here, if the dogs innocent, that means its murder, and that means theres a reward,” pressed Cod, grinning at the prospect of more cash in his wallet Spoiler: The Beast Below Jaws that bite on those much weaker Claws which reach to catch the seeker Of him whose glory reigns on high The Beast Below, the King of Lies He watches, pliding with eyes in two Ever watching he longs for you Beware the Beast who longs to rule Over mimsy lands, with ways most cruel The Beast’s disaster will not cease ‘Til the Lord above smoothes this crease A fate strung in prophetic verse His end draws near, and with him sin’s curse A curse borne through ancient mistake The end will be done when God spake To bridge the gap and gain a pass The price was paid, His blood on the grass The fiery lake awaits the Beast On Christ’s return he’ll lay in defeat While those who believed will prosper The Beast below will suffer on
Access A Lawless Land Cycle One: "Most" Nominations; Thread/Group Nominations Cycle Two: Writing, Video Editing, Art Nominations; Roleplaying Nominations Cycle Three: Best/Worst Nominations Cycle Four: General Nominations Vote away!
Cycle One: "Most" Nominations; Thread/Group Nominations Cycle Two: Writing, Video Editing, Art Nominations; Roleplaying Nominations Cycle Three: Best/Worst Nominations Cycle Four: General Nominations Vote away! Jayn Spoiler 1. Friend ( Vocal ) 2. Loyalty ( Vocal ) Based God (GhettoXemnas) Spoiler Melvin Burch Spoiler Maka Spoiler http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LG-7GSPlCh8[/spoiler] Aiden Pearce Spoiler http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YB8ZfLfjW3c http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=94_6l22A7xI[/spoiler]
