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The Spirit of a StarA girl's attention was caught by the sound of the large village gates creaking open, then closing again. She looked to be 12 years old, when really she was 16. The teen had dark brown hair that hung to the middle of her back, with eyes only a shade lighter. Her thin frame gave the illusion of fragility, yet she was as strong as any other Jonin in the village. Her endurance was that of the wolf when she went out on the trail. Her outfit consisted of a simple lightly tanned sundress, black flip-flops, and a dark gray pouch. The pouch hung around her neck from a sinew cord. Obviously, she was of native descent. A blonde haired boy waved as soon as he saw her. "Hey Naruto; you hungry?" she called. "As long as we have ramen!" the boy grinned. She rolled her eyes as they walked to a nearby noodle shop. While they ate, the girl told the boy named Naruto about her mission assigned for the next morning. It was her fifth year as a Jonin; naturally, the mission was long term. “W
Stellara Nagareboshi ProfileName: Stellara Nagareboshi
Village: Hidden Leaf
Weight: 77 lbs
Rank: ANBU trainee
Hair: Coffee brown, occasionally streaked with random colors
Nationality: Half German, half Native American
Branch: Keewaunee Bay
Pets: Abyssinian cat, Waabiishkaa. Siamese twins, both male, Sakima and Namid. One female Dachshund, Twiggy. One male Dachshund, Carmal.
Clothing: A buckskin shirt with removable sleeves and deep blue flower patterns up on the shoulders. Black cotton leggings with matching flowers are worn in cold weather. Makazins(tribal spelling of the word ) are lined inside with snowshoe hare fur, outside are decorated in red, orange, yellow, and black beads. Wears a coyote skin medicine pouch like a necklace. Contains medicine stone, glass beads, and a piece of carved white quartz. It is shaped like a bear-crafted by her grandfather before he died.
Personality: Racial slurs against her make her cold-hearted
What Have I Done? I don't understand
What I did wrong
I used to have so many people
And now they're gone
Was it something I did?
Or something I said?
I take it back...
Just don't leave
Forgotten Realms Ch.6 and 7"I kill ju."
"Ji, with what?" Kiva asked, grinning broadly now that Wain had finally given in and agreed to play a round of the game. He and Stella were walking home with her that day.
Wain thought for a second, then grinned wickedly and said, "Orochimaru."
Stella broke up laughing.
"Ewww! Not the snake bastard!" Kiva squeaked shuddering.
Wain laughed and said, "What? Don't like snakes hmm?"
"No…" Kiva whined, laughing weakly at her own fear, "And you hush!"
"Owwie! What'd I do!?" she yelped.
"Pissed me off," Kiva laughed, "You know I've hated snakes ever since…" She trailed off, looking about with a confused look on her face.
"Ever since what hmm?" Wain prodded.
Kiva looked at him and her confused look deepened. She looked to Stella and shook her head.
"I…I think I was almost s-strangled and bitten by… Mando a while ago…" she stuttered.
"You were hmm?" Wain asked in surprise.
"Wait…you were bitten remember?
Forgotten Realms Ch.5"I still feel horrible," Stella grumbled as Kiva's mom drove them to school.
Kiva nodded but didn't say anything.
"My throat is dry as hell’s eighth circle," she thought.
"At least today will distract us," Stella shrugged.
"Yeah," Kiva agreed
That day was the second day of homecoming week with the theme being movie or TV day. You could dress up like any character you wanted…as long as it wasn't racy, risqué, or skimpy.
Kiva was in a black trench coat with a black duck-tape girdle wrapped tightly around her middle. She also had on white face paint with tragedy spikes over her blacked out eyes and downward angled cracks along her lips. It looked like she was frowning if she kept a straight face. Eric Draven from Brandon Lee's The Crow.
Stella, on the other hand, had high collared black robes and a home woven Chinese style hat. An Akatsuki member from the show Naruto.
"I can't wait to see what everyone else is doing," Kiva chuckled.
Stella nodded a
Forgotten Realms Ch.3 and 4"Ok Tao present," Kiva said after setting tags on her bedroom windows, "Muk present. And…"
"And who? Didn't Pruwx only gave us two spirit tags?" Stella asked, sitting cross-legged on Kiva's bed.
"She mailed me another. This is a Giniw, a War Eagle. His name is Dezmond," Kiva said hanging the last tag in the window.
"He's sitting on Tao's head!" Stella laughed, getting a quick mind flash image of the guardian spirits.
Kiva smiled and said, "Ain't ya thankful they can shrink? Otherwise my room would be packed!"
Stella smiled and nodded, glancing around Kiva's small cluttered room.
Kiva joined her on the bed, sitting across from her with the book between them. The guardians formed a circle. Dezmond decided to perch on Kiva's shoulder; Tao settled next to Stella.
Kiva motioned for Stella to take her hands then began muttering under her breath, letting Dezmond tell her what to say seeing as he was the wisest of the guardians.
It was mainly in Ojibway so she had no clue what she was s
Mental Disorder Discrimination"You said you've got depression?
No you don't, you attention seeker.
You're just an average teenager with the perfect life
Desperately looking for sympathy."
Stop crying, you coward.
You're just a childish "scaredy-cat".
Blaming your problems on a mental disorder
That doesn't even exist."
"So you're schizophrenic?
Grow the hell up, and stop acting like a child
You're too old for imaginary friends
You callow, juvenile, little twit."
But if we're attention seekers,
Why do we try so hard to hide our feelings from the world?
Why do we isolate ourselves in our rooms,
Desperately hiding the cuts on our wrists
Trying our best to live a normal life?
And if we're simply "scaredy-cats",
Why is our fear so vividly intense?
Unlike simple fear, our anxiety will stick with us forever
A severe long-lasting feeling of powerful panic.
A feeling from which we'll never be free.
Suddenly we're childish for having a mental disorder?
Schizophrenia is not something we can control.
YouIf you’re a girl, you’re a girl.
If you’re a boy, you’re a boy.
If you’re white, you’re white.
If you’re black, you’re black.
If you’re gay, you’re gay.
If you’re bi, you’re bi.
If you’re straight, you’re straight.
If you’re religious, you’re religious.
If you’re an atheist, you’re an atheist.
If you’re mentally disabled, you’re still human.
If you’re physically disabled, you’re still human.
For everything you are:
So who are they to judge you for who you are?
to me you are perfect
I do not know the reasons
for all those scars burning
against your bright skin
you've been soaking
a pain reminiscing from past
we both cannot recollect
yet you are so beautiful..
when night gets darker
and I am the one...
who's hungered to undress
the spirit of you
slowly revealing the layers
coming off from shadows
disguised in desires
craving to be fulfilled
I will caress every corner
of your silhouette
until I figure the true shape
of your heart
I will rub those blisters
softly until every nerve
of you gushes into a river
and you moan into a life
I had promised you
years ago when we began
to breathe into each other
for all the truths
I must swallow
and lessons I must learn
you are the one
I am destined to discover
what it means
to love in perfection
daydreams and monsters.she was a girl.
she ran with the moon,
chased fireflies in the bluegrass, and
watched the reflection of sunsets in rain puddles.
her name was Alice,
and she was a girl.
but to the dragonflies she was a queen,
and to the mirror she was a sister.
the moon was her prince, and the
blinking windows were the eyes
that kept her safe.
she spent her nights making wishes, and she
dragged her fingers along the shooting stars
that were tangled with her vertebrae.
her name was Alice,
and she was a girl.
her body was a river
her mind was an ocean
and her heart was the sky.
she lived in a world where
doves flew in the sea and
whales swam in the
i can't keep walking on these dry-rot bonesoh, i am not a poet;
like the ink scratches
of plath, i am
specter boy: decay,
dispose, & disappoint
because this is the way
that writers wane -
(this hangman head is no
survivor story, & gods
do not burn out
poem for borderlinesif i could concentrate over
seven hundred thousand eyes
at the roof to the numbers stepping
from the nicities & rows
to go back
to the shattered surface
& the ripples beating over the hang
halfway between shallow
biting lips. maybe--
she couldn't have known
that it takes a whole three minutes
for the lungs to
well, maybe she
who, oh well
the white; the haze--
the booming over
the spume and spray
me get out of my head
just pull up the shutters
my tongue the weight to talk
but that's all we'll ever be:
a match burning itself out for
under the backspray of someone else's wheels
WeakI pride myself
on being strong
"I'm over him...
for good this time."
He pops back
into my life
Even a dream
Can send me spiraling
And I realize
How weak he makes me
My heart beats like a drum,
my mind buzzes
He lingers more than smoke
And I breathe him in
But forget to exhale
Then he fades...
and I'm me again
Until I think
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More