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A bunch of hilarious fake quotes[Tori] MY PIZZA IS HERE FUCK YEAH MOTHER FUCKERS BYE PEACE
• Tori has left.
[Leon S. Kennedy] tori seemd happy
• [Tori] I'm probably just going to kill the child
• [Tori] wrong chat...
• [Tori] this looks bad
• [Tori] uh
• [Leon S. Kennedy] DONT DO IT
• [Isaac Clarke] TORI
• [Master Chief] wow tori
• [Isaac Clarke] WTF
[Tori] that flower polinates parts that shouldn't be polinated in my body
[Leon S. Kennedy] .
[Rainbow Dash] .
[Gordan Freeman] .
[Master Chief] .
[Isaac Clarke] .
[Isaac Clarke] Omg this is great, i know this sounds really cheesy and stuff, but i'm really glad I met you.
[Isaac Clarke] Like you're a great roach
[Isaac Clarke] sister*
[Isaac Clarke] NOT ROACH LOLOLOOL
[Tori] well gee
[Tori] thanks asshole
[Tori] some kinda brother you are
BrokenGo ahead and drive the blade into my heart,
go ahead and twist,
past the chipped paint,
past the dents and battle scars,
is my beating heart,
drive the blade in,
watch me fall,
better to be dead then to be broken,
am i just a toy to you too,
am i just a puppet to your strings,
when will i ever mean something,
when will i ever be good enough,
after all no one wants a broken toy
Cry of an ArtistThey tell me I’ll understand
when I’m older.
That I shouldn’t be an artist.
I want to be those crumpled papers
in the corner of my room,
and the late nights I stayed awake
blinking at the moon.
And even though I lack the supplies
and ideas are far away,
I feel artistic blood
running through my veins.
I’m that empty spray can
left in the shadows of the walls
where street art’s been made
but the name’s not there at all.
And I’m that lonely artist
who fears of sticking out
because all the art critics
feel the urge to not speak, but shout.
And I’m that girl standing by the window,
wanting those paints and brushes,
pencils and pens,
and the city that hushes
when my art makes its
Dusts of IllusionsI am a hideous beast
covered in dusts of illusions
I came from angels
but got lost in dark confusions
My sanity was taken
when I stumbled to my violations
My conscience turned stale
I forgot the right directions
I am more than an
ocean of regrets and fears
Drowned by sins that
learned to love my tears
Perhaps it was anger
that made me foolishly decide
To blind my eyes
and let wisdom subside
Maybe it was ephemeral hatred
that hindered my good reason
Offering me fires of
painful past to ruminate on
Now the knowledge of this
story is all that haunts me
Sealing my heart in
terrors I can never be free
For all that I am
are dusts of illusions
Who came from angels
but got lost in dark confusions
MercyYou're like a fallen angel
A dusty doll on the shelf
Your eyes still to the ceiling
Counting the seconds
The spans between the rise and fall of your chest
Cutting through the torture
Tracing the bites on your stomach with shaking fingers
Drunk behind the gym during class
Yearning and mourning
Nothing but a scared little boy
Face pressed to the filthy bus window
Watching mommy wave goodbye
You're a broken wine glass
Shattered between stiletto heels
Branded with ruby lipstick and the stick of apple wine
Babe, don't try to shove your bruised knuckles in your empty pockets
Brush it off
Shake your blonde head and smile
Tell yourself that you're going to be fine
Not moving a muscle
Deceit in the corners of your eyes
No bend in the sides of your mouth
Begging for mercy
Keeping secretsHave you ever cried yourself to sleep?
And if someone asked you that,
how would you answer?
Truth be told, I used to -
Just lie in bed and think,
think about every single thing
and how I felt about it...
what it meant to me.
But I'll just say no,
because I don't want you to know
about how weak I am.
And it is when all is silent,
the tears will slide slowly,
soaking your pillow.
Like a movie,
the scene plays out in your head
of all those times when you were
damaged and broken.
Replayed and replayed until
all the images end up blur and disjointed.
Have you ever cried yourself to sleep?
Yes, I have - many times, in fact.
But I'll just say no
because you're my friend
and if I were to tell you,
it would be the end.
Cutting into my flesh.
Dripping down my hand to spatter on the floor.
A floor already slick with poppy blood
Burning into my skin.
Blistering, bubbling, its mark blazed upon my arm.
A searing wound bared burnt to the sky
The welcome release.
A liberation from the cruelty of life.
The self-punishment for words left unsaid.
Front page...Liquid chains cling to my ankles
Feathers of a bird tickle my nose.
Haunted by the voices in this cold dark cell
Longing for the scent of a light pink rose.
Ocean waves beat upon a sandy shore
A sea of hatred and rage.
Dragonflies swim through air so light
But this stuff never gets to the front page.
A Let's PlayerA scream of terror.
A gasp of shock.
A cry of frustration.
A shout of victory.
These are the voices of a Let’s Player.
Some of them famous,
Most of them not.
A few are serious,
Others are hilarious,
Maybe a selected few are silent.
A lot with faces,
A Let’s Player are neither male nor female;
Tall nor short;
Blonde nor Brunette;
Brave nor cowardly.
They are simply people.
People who play not only for their own,
But play for people whom they may never meet.
We thank and thank and thank
For them to play for us,
When they thank and thank and thank
For us supporting them.
The differences between these Players,
(That so many of us say they have)
Of these heartwarming people,
Are few, at most,
But they are the same.
They love their fans that love them back;
They play for their pleasure and ours;
They know that a game, to be judged,
Must be played first.
When one door closes...I’ve heard the saying
When one door closes, another opens,
I felt the disconnect and the lock clicked shut
It closed for just a moment
Then opened so hard
That it spun me
I went down in a haze of mixed emotions,
Not over my loss but feeling for you,
My wants mangling each other,
Eating each other alive,
Until there was nothing left
When the tears stopped
and you were there, waiting
I ran toward you
Wanting change, wanting freedom
Embracing an uncertain future
Your eyes were like the ocean
A swirling punch bowl of blue and white,
So inviting in their dance
So severe was the pull of your undertow
That I dove right in
Without a life preserver
Through your door I swam
With a tail like a mermaid
Propelling me face first
Into your warm water embrace,
With a smile
Meant just for you
It wasn’t what I wanted
At the time...
It was unexpected,
It was love laid out at my feet
In a trail of hot sand
That burned my toes
Until you carried me
MORE AWKWARDNESS YEYYClarke: *sitting at the table*
*Sitting in the corner of the room facing away from Isaac* *Making weird noises*
Clarke: *looks over at me* Hmm?
*Making baby noises* HUUUUUUUUU
Clarke: Are you dying or, something..?
Clarke: Maybe? Tori, are you okay?
Clarke: I'm sorry? Hmm?
*Strange as fuq outburst* WHY DO I KEEP THINKING OF FRED FLINTSTONE ON THE TOILET AAAAAAARRRRGGGHH
Clarke: OH MY GOD, WHAT.
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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