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TracksWhen I was a child, my mother took me to see the frozen carcass of a wolf hit in the winter. The train had cut the animal clean in half - it’s forelegs and head lay on one side of the tracks, it’s hindquarters on the other. It was petrified in time and perfectly preserved by ice, its mouth still curved into a startled snarl. Those tracks had scared me ever since. But they didn’t scare you. I don’t think anything did.
You held out your hand, bare feet on wooden planks and metal. Drunk on Birthday Cake Vodka (stolen from your sister), we’d tumbled into the forest in nothing but our bikinis and wandered to the tracks. You laughed and said you’d done it a thousand times, promised I’d love it.
I took your hand hesitantly. My palms were cold and sweaty - a fact which always made me self-conscious. You didn’t seem to notice as you tugged me down the twisting path. The rocks between planks stung as they poked into my feet and the metal was icy co
ConnectionsI rifle through the vinyls, letting my touch linger on each one before moving on. They all feel cold and lifeless, inhuman and unfeeling. I can sense a faint call in the base of my brain, a plea for companionship. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes, trying to pinpoint where it's coming from. My hand hovers over the bin to my right before I reach in, my movements cautious. My fingers glide against a cover, and this one feels different than the others. I pull it out, sliding the case off and turning the record in my hands. It's old, and I can see the lines where its previous owner placed the needle. Some parts are denser than others where the song was played hundreds of times.
The cashier looks at me strangely when I bring it to the front, no doubt wondering why I didn't get any of the vintage, mint condition, collectible records. She asks whether I want a bag and I decline, opting to carry the vinyl close to my heart as I walk home. The sky above is grey, and I can smell an oncoming
Meal: Six (6) Maine red lobster tails
One (1) bowl of black caviar
One (1) glass of Chardonnay
One (1) scoop of vanilla bean ice cream, topped with dark chocolate ganache and a Maraschino cherry.
Comments: Garbage. I always knew rich people were full of shit.
Meal: One (1) pepperoni pizza from Little Caesar’s.
One (1) waffle cone, chocolate
Meal: One (1) bottle of Clear American, Fuji Apple flavor
Two (2) Payday candy bars.
Meal: Two (2) fried chicken legs
One (1) bowl of mashed potatoes, brown gravy
One (1) bowl of creamed corn
One (1) glass of milk
One (1) slice of peach pie
Comments: Just like Mom used to make.
Meal: One (1) bowl of tomato soup
One (1) grilled cheese
One (1) serving of spaghetti squash
One (1) Jello vanilla pudding
Meal: One (1) bowl of spaghetti
Two (2) Olive Garden breadsticks
One (1) bag of buttered popcorn, dusted with
America X Reader Emergency First Aid KitAmerica X Reader Emergency First Aid Kit
“Alright, let’s get the emergency travel kit ready”
“Do we really need it?”
“Yes we do, now let’s go through the check list”
“Fine, I’m ready”
“Alright, band aids?”
“Do we really need that?”
“Yes, now do we have it?”
“…Alfred, why are condoms on the list?”
“Cause we’ll need ‘em”
“No we won’t”
“If not then what are we supposed to do?”
“Sight see, maybe visit a few historical places”
“But I want to have sex”
“No condoms, No sex”
“What was that!?”
Hetalia x reader Prologue
The schoolbell rang throught the hallways of your school and all the doors flew open. That means one thing: A schoolday was finally over. As the doors opened everyone walked outside. Some were running happily and some were taking it slowly, including you. You walked out with your schoolbag around your shoulder and sighed in relief. You were glad that it was finally, because for you it was really boring and you couldn't wait to read some Hetalia fanfiction on your laptop. You waved your best friend goodbye with a smile and walked away with a tired smile.
You walked inside with tired (e/c) eyes and a frown on your face. You leaned against the door, looked down at the floor and sighed. You never felt so tired after school.
"Are you okay, honey?" A voice said. You looked up and saw your mom in front of you with worried (e/c) eyes. She walked over to you and put a hand on your forehead. "Hmm. No fever. But you really don't look good." she said
breathing the deepPapa isn't coming home again tonight.
He said to me over the telephone that the road is too long, and that it takes too much time for him to get from his office to mommy's place.
Last week he'd said that the streets are too dark, and that there are some things that even grown-ups are scared of.
The week before that, he'd promised me and said that he was coming, yes, definitely, but then he never showed up at all.
But maybe next week he'll come.
Yes, next week.
Julia, you really should be going to sleep.
I know, mommy. I think I'll wait by the window for a little longer.
Just in case.
Hetalia x reader part 1
You don't know how long you both looked at each other, but it felt like forever for you. His eyes later softened and he smiled. He suddenly walked towards the bed and your heart started to beat faster as he came. You also started to blush as he stopped in front of you.
"It's good that you're awake, aru." he said as his smile widened. Your blush increased and you really want to hug him, but you couldn't because your head still hurts and you didn't want to surprise him.
"Who are you? What are you going to do with me?" you asked timidly. You knew who he was, but you didn't want him to know that you already know him from Hetalia and from your dreams. He frowned at you as he saw your fear in your (e/c) eyes.
"It's okay. Me and my friends don't want to hurt you, aru" he said softly. You knew that he and the others don't want to hurt you, but you thougt that they were the ones that kidnapped you. Your fear decreased a little and you nodded in under
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Parenting for Sex AddictsThe half-day.
We are not those folks that need an occasion to try. And that’s what they call it, too. Trying. As if the very idea of it is taxing. It’s not taxing and we are not those people.
No. We do not go by some magical calendar. Schedules aren’t really our thing in general. That’d be too organized. Too stuffy. Too… I don’t know… too planned. And we’re not the type of people whom plan.
If we could—plan—our lives would be much different. I think. It’s hard to say because this is how we’ve always been.
Our very togetherness is a result of impulse. I’m almost certain that the amount of time it took us to decide to move in together was significantly shorter than the amount of time it took us to remember each other’s names. We might have had our first conversation moments after that first… what I mean to say is we didn’t plan. Because planning would have been much t
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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