LosslessThe room was dark, smooth stone bricks created a semi circle shape. It was lit only by the crack under the cast iron door. Water leaked from holes between bricks. It made him sick. Looking at her in the din, his gorge rose. His fault, him, guilty.Lossless by liesofmisery
“Don’t worry, you’re going to be fine. Just fine, both of you. Like I said you would.” Her voice was light. Resigned and detached, like Doc said she was when he had spoken to her. Steel chains, slightly rusted and weighted down, looped around her wrists, torso, and ankles, chaffing and rubbing the flesh it rested on raw. The links around her wrists had smears of blood dotting them.
Cold seeped into his knees and feet as they pressed against damp stone to keep eye level with her. His pleading was for naught, she was perfectly consigned to her fate. The spit ball of fire was far from the fighter he knew her to be, and he didn’t think he could be one for her.
The Discordian Wasteland‘In the times before the wars, the world was vastly different. Animals, even humans, got along well. Starvation, disease, and radioactivity were vastly limited, the latter almost non existent save for a few selective places. But even those were from a time before their own. Plant life was bursting, and far from the deadly acres that exist today.The Discordian Wasteland by liesofmisery
The people of that time dedicated generations worth of work to advance technology and medicine. What would appear to be the start of the descent into chaos was the development of wartime technology, a practice abandoned for a large sum of time. The people of that time, in a place once called Cambodia, had started mass producing nuclear warheads with enough strength to wipe out countries.
The Discord Wars, as they came to be called, were violent, brilliantly petrifying, and the shortest war our records show in that of history.’
He set his pen, a crude instrument with a cracked plastic barrel and leaking end, down. Running a hand over
|Art...if you can call it that.|
Angel of Darkness Chapter 4Chapter 4Angel of Darkness Chapter 4 by Cyprisluv
No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted. --Aesop
Ulquiorra Schiffer snapped upright with a start. The new leader of Los Noches had fallen asleep at his desk in a very ungraceful manner. With slight annoyance he pulled off the piece of paper that was stuck to his forehead. He set it down atop the large stack that had accumulated the night before. He then proceeded to glare at it. Aizen had placed all of his thoughts down on paper, and Ulquiorra had barely even grazed the surface. At this rate, it would take an eternity to read everything.
The Espada slowly stood, feeling parts of his body ache that shouldnt rightly feel anything. He made a mental note to not stay up so late again. It would be very humiliating to be found passed out by one of his many Arrancar servants. He stretched his back for a moment and then straightened out his jacket. First thing on his agenda was to meet with Inoue for breakfast.
He wanted to get the news
The Poison TreeI caught you near my poison treeThe Poison Tree by Scarlettletters
in search of bitter fruit
and watched you shake its heavy limbs,
well watered from the roots
Its leaves were wraiths of withered hate;
its branches tipped in rue
Its trunk knew naught of happiness,
its blossoms all untrue.
And yet you climbed its slippery bark,
worn thin and grey with pain;
You stripped the boughs of tender shoots,
destroyed by tainted rain
And when at last its blood stained fruit
you plucked with fingers red
you knew the kiss of sweet revenge
lay buried with the dead.