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Profile - Yuki
Name: Ate: Goddess of Mischief, Obsession, Infatuation, Guilt, and Criminal Rashness
Age: A couple thousand years
The blood in my veins ceases to flow
That image glued to my mind
of you kissing her
You lied to me
You said you'd never turn on me
But it's my fault for being vunerable
And let you push me aside
Are you proud of yourself?
Thanks for that
As if i needed that wound
But at least my blood can flow somewhere
Out of my veins and onto the earth
Show you no one's playing around anymore
Are you satisfied now?
Hear my heart beat stopping?
You broke it
I guess it just wasn't important enough
The truth does hurt
I hope you know
SorryI'm sorry that I make you angry
and I'm sorry I make you sad
But I can't control myself and sometimes
things get out of hand
I have to ask for your forgivenss
I don't mean you any harm
But I can't live everyday for you, happy
and buoyant, with a girlish charm
Don't act like you're alone in this,
Can't you see I'm hurting too?!
and can you guess who's the cause of it??
Bingo, that's right, buddy boy, it's you!
You don't see my bouts of rage
Since I'm the only one I fight
Or the drops that soak my sweatshirt sleeve
late into the night
Wait...I should stop, slap myself
and not complain
I'm sure you have it worse than I, for as you say
You lose more than you gain
I'm not angry with you, just myself
and my stupidity
So before you go and lose your temper
understand that there's more to "me"
Inspector Wolf The old lady was dead. I could smell it before I even got into the house. The whole place reeked of adrenaline, sweat, fear, copper and steel. He’d dropped her right in her living room. Chopped and chopped until she stopped moving. But I could tell I was getting close. This had been done in a hurry, and the killer didn’t have the time to clean up after himself like he usually did.
Across the room, the phone rang. The shrill sound set my teeth to grinding, but I ignored it. Instead I followed the killer’s bloody footprints into the back bedroom. He’d climbed out the window. If I hurried, I could catch up to him and end this disgusting spree he was on.
Then the answering machine kicked in. “Hi, Gramma! It’s Red. Sorry I’m running late. I kind of lost track of time. But don’t worry. I packed the picnic and I’m heading out the door right now. Love you.”
She’d been expec
The TrundlerThe waste land behind the fire station is always silent. No birds sing there, and even the wild rabbits and feral cats avoid it. Weedy wildflowers nod their seasonal heads in the breeze. Lying fallow in the midst of housing developments, shopping malls, the new movie theater — the vacant lot stands out like a knife wound on a woman’s placid face, shocking, brazen, ugly.
It is always empty. Except for one thing: a ragged heap of old trash, all nasty black tar paper and vicious snarls of rusted wire, car parts and broken glass and other junkyard jetsam. The embodiment of injury waiting to happen, an invitation to a tetanus shot... the city never hauled it away. No one ever wants anywhere near it; it radiates an eerie sense of calculating watchfulness.
And at night, it wanders.
When darkness falls, and the last cars heading into the hives of tract housing stop illuminating the asphalt with moving-picture shadows, it… unfolds. Bitter, broken tangles, grotesquely mov
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More