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100th Hunger Games Chapter 2I met Gale at the train station, where we were hastily pushed onto the train by Effie, muttering something about being late. The train was spacious, with red velvet everything. Sofa's, curtains, walls, you name it. I was shown my room and given the time that dinner would be and was then left to myself. I sat down on the edge of my bed and sobbed for a good half hour, then decided to take a shower and get changed. I studied the buttons on the shower. They made little sense, but after fiddling about for a bit I managed to work out how to coat my hair in blueberry shampoo and honey and mint conditioner and adjust the temperature so that by the time I stepped out, I felt cleaner than I had ever felt in my entire life. I studied the clothes I had been given and chose a simple black skirt and silk blouse. I dried my hair and tied it into the same bun that I had in beforehand and then left for dinner.
I had honestly never seen so much food in my life. Fish, salad, and various other vegetables
The 100th Hunger Games Chapter 1I wandered the deserted streets of District 12, waiting for it to become absolutely necessary that I make an appearance at the Reaping this year. I never wanted to go back to that place. It was only 26 years ago that my sister had volunteered to take my place in the games. I'd let her. It was my fault, and my fault only that she died in the arena. Things had got better here though. She'd known that Peeta could win. He stayed hidden until the mutts came for Cato and he won. She found him and saved him so that he could save me and my mother. I sighed as I stepped through the door of our house. My mother had already left for the reaping so I was left to get ready by myself. I took out a scruffy red dress and some sandals and put my hair up into a messy bun. I was making no effort to look nice.
Once I felt content that I would manage to annoy the Capitol should they show me on TV, I made my way to the town centre. I saw Gale and Peeta talking amongst themselves on the outskirts of the cent
Frerard dreams Aka, my english assessmentEverybody judges me. My boyfriend just died and instead of getting sympathy, all I get is abuse. Mind you, a gay teenager and an American high school never really was the best combination, was it? So yes. Here I am, sat on my bed smoking and watching an excessive amount of blood run down my wrist and onto the carpet, and to be honest, I've never felt better, well, for an off day anyway. I stood up. I wanted to eat something, but I'd have to throw up. I hate throwing up. It's always worse than what you remember. I flicked my eyes around the room. Something caught my eye. It was a small framed photo of, oh god, me and Gerard. I felt my eyes fill up with tears a I collapsed back onto my bed...
..."I want you," said Gerard, wrapping his arms around my waist and kissing down my neck.
"I want you too," I whispered, turning my body round so that I was facing my boyfriend.
"I promise that I'm not leaving'" he said, dipping his head down to capture my lips for a split second. I nodded and bough
Adieu"How long will you be gone for?" she asked me, stroking down my arm. I didn't want to leave her. I promised her I wouldn't, but I had to leave. I'd be back. I promised her that. I wouldn't be gone that long.
"Six weeks" I replied, stroking her cheek, hoping to banish the sadness from her eyes. It wasn't working. I slid my arms around her waist. "It'll go quickly. I promise I'll visit" I reassured her, hoping it would do something. It wasn't. She gripped my hands until her knuckles were white. I couldn't leave her, but somehow, I'd already agreed to take the trial job up in Scotland. We didn't have enough money to rent a flat for both of us regardless, so I was staying with friends, and she was staying at her parents house.
Just Trust Me"Think you're getting away with that?" a pissy sounding Gerard whispered from behind me. I hadn't done anything wrong. I Just...well...did some frerard that we didn't plan. I don't know why I did it. I just did. I think it was the desperate lust for the being that was Gerard Way in my bed. Either way, I now had to play it cool.
"We didn't plan any frerard for tonight, asshole" he screeched.
"I know we didn't, dumbass. I'm not an idiot!" I boldly said back, puffing out my small chest. Gerard sighed, then took a step back.
"Then why'd you do it?" he asked in a more reasonable tone.
"I don't know."
"Frank, I've known you long enough to know that you're lying," he mumbled, huffing loudly. I shuffled my feet as my eyes dropped to the floor.
"The fans at the front were chanting for it," I snapped, not taking my gaze off of the off-white tile at my feet. I felt his hand on my shoulder.
"Frank, please? Just tell me the truth, I won't laugh or think any different of you," he pleaded,
To The EndHe smiled at me, but he said nothing. He'd been like this for weeks and I couldn't do anything about it. I could feel myself shaking, the bars on the hospital bed were rattling too. My mind went blank and my hands went sweaty, I just couldn't bear seeing him like this. I scanned over the tiny violet veins in his eyelids.
"C'mon Frank, wake up, please?" I whispered into his ear, he gave no response. I sighed deeply to myself, wanting to forget the night that he fell. It wasn't particularly dramatic, but there was nothing I could do. We'd been walking, just generally walking to nowhere, when suddenly, out of nowhere a car comes and knocks him over. It hit him pretty hard.
So here I am, watching the guy I'm in love with smile at me. In a coma. Sometimes he moves, but it's usually his mouth, hence why he was smiling.
It had been 3 weeks. I'd slept in the hospital, argued with the nurses about visiting hours a few times, but I was too desperate for him to wake up to leave him. The nurses ca
Demolition Lovers'It's okay Frank', said Gerard, wiping the tears from his friend's face. Frank shook his head. If only Gerard knew. He ran his fingers across his bleeding wrist. He was dying inside. Nothing could save him but the soft heat of Gerard's lips on his, but even that was of no use now. Gerard took Frank's hands. 'Please tell me', he said, slowly moving Frank onto his lap and cradling him like a baby.
He loves you Frank.
'Gee It's kind of I don't know Complicated?' said the small being in the garishly red haired boy's arms.
'Just tell me', said Gerard, sweeping a dark strand of hair off of Frank's forehead.
'Gee .I .I want to die', said Frank, hiding his face in Gerard's chest.
Gerard wasn't having any of that. He lifted the smaller boy up so that he was sitting on his lap. Frank tried to struggle out of his position, but every attempt he made was hopeless.
Frank hated himself. He hated the empty pill boxes and the empty bottles of alcohol that were in his mat
To depression, for creating days without endWake up to the realization that you've been awake
for seconds, minutes, hours.
You've been awake in this warm, dark room
and you don't know how long it's been
but now you're conscious
and it starts again--
the pain, strong and steady, in your chest.
You gain consciousness in this too warm morning
and your thoughts whir in endless loops
because it's either that or face the weight in your chest.
Light breaks though the window, soft and unwelcome
but you take it as a reluctant gift--
a new distraction from the feelings awake in your chest.
Awake, but not conscious.
So you think yourself in circles a little while longer
waiting for those quiet pains
(the constant reminder)
to gain consciousness.
IowaIf you visit Iowa,
you'll call her fields empty,
but she wasn't born that way.
A part of her was carved out
when she was ripped between Virginia
and the purple mountains of New Mexico.
Her gold hair, she tore it out when she realized
it didn't make her a princess.
She laid her locks strung along every road
leading somewhere else.
White hairs on her cheeks
are scars from winter.
Her hair darkens with the dampness
of summer rains.
The storms are never silent,
but neither is life when there's a tear
in your childhood where
a parent ought to be.
I've been flooded by Iowa's sorrow.
The only way I can distract her from her own voided landscape
is if I hate myself harder than she cries.
She just wants to fly
and I want to bus or train,
not because I fear death, but because
I want to take living slow.
It's the only way I ever feel.
From the air it's hard to watch Earth's hips move.
But Earth can't compare to the country.
That's my girl.
Full grown even when harvesting season's j
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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