I have dreams about dogs sometimes.
Usually my nightmares are about the dead rising up and walking again, or witches or evil spirits. But ever since I started working here, hounds have been in my dreams more and more.
And they look a lot like the king.
At first, I thought it was a coincidence. But Sally always told me that when my gut sinks around a man, I should run. Fast. The only problem is, there’s no where I could run.
Sometimes I see his eyes glitter at me from across the food court, where he eats with his family.
Sometimes I look up and catch him staring at me when I’m reading, or doing paperwork. I’ve told Chish
Mother of Titans by who-refuse-to-wakeup, literature
Literature
Mother of Titans
For the first five thousand years, I was alone.
The sun never visited me, and the moon never wrote. Rain didn’t return my calls, and wind didn’t bother saying goodbye.
For five thousand years, I never felt the summer light warm my back. I never felt the rain on my eyelashes, the wind burn my cheeks or whip my hair. I never saw my mother’s face in the moon again.
My only light were candles, my only friends the shadows on the wall.
I don’t know where we live, I never have. I would guess underground, but there’s no way to tell for sure.
Maybe I should start from the beginning.
My mother was Tzipporah. Yes. Tha
i.
His parents had gotten married in a graveyard. That’s where Peter thinks his bad luck comes from.
The ceremony was small, quiet. The polar opposite of a traditional wedding in Nevermore. It was just them and the witch that married them. No feasts, no masks, no dancing. Just his parents, their faces uncovered, loving each other. It was more intimate, they claimed.
His grandparents claimed that it was spiteful; they didn’t want their families involved in the ceremony because neither pair of parents had wanted them together. Peter thought this would rather justify his parents’ decision.
When they were some of the first p
Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please?
Are you bored with the part of your life that everyone sees?
Do you long for the kind of intrigue incurred by regret,
Or perhaps for delicious mystique secured by secrets?
Are you an outspoken leader shunned by society?
A visionary bogged down by dull mediocrity?
An aspiring Socrates spurned by hypocrisy?
An unbridled dreamer limited by reality?
Or a free thinker punished for your eccentricity?
Do these troublesome labels within your community
Instill bothersome, senseless, and cruel notoriety?
Well, ladies and gents,
We proudly present,
A lovely elegant solution for your discontent,
Whe
Diagnosis by Song (Disney) (ALSO OLD) by who-refuse-to-wakeup, literature
Literature
Diagnosis by Song (Disney) (ALSO OLD)
~~~~Poor Unfortunate Souls~~~~
Why was she doing this again?
She was surely pushing her luck. She was now blind, trapped in a straitjacket, and absent from her throne. Anyone could take it. Now her shimmering sapphire eyes were gone, her sanity was shattered, and her empire she had been planning to build in Nevermore was in shambles.
And yet, running over the positives of Laurline’s proposition only served to intensify the impulse to just accept it in wanton disregard for the negatives.
Gigi recalled hearing the door screech on its hinges before she heard the witch’s coercing voice, riddled with “dahling” and &ldqu
I have dreams about dogs sometimes.
Usually my nightmares are about the dead rising up and walking again, or witches or evil spirits. But ever since I started working here, hounds have been in my dreams more and more.
And they look a lot like the king.
At first, I thought it was a coincidence. But Sally always told me that when my gut sinks around a man, I should run. Fast. The only problem is, there’s no where I could run.
Sometimes I see his eyes glitter at me from across the food court, where he eats with his family.
Sometimes I look up and catch him staring at me when I’m reading, or doing paperwork. I’ve told Chish
Mother of Titans by who-refuse-to-wakeup, literature
Literature
Mother of Titans
For the first five thousand years, I was alone.
The sun never visited me, and the moon never wrote. Rain didn’t return my calls, and wind didn’t bother saying goodbye.
For five thousand years, I never felt the summer light warm my back. I never felt the rain on my eyelashes, the wind burn my cheeks or whip my hair. I never saw my mother’s face in the moon again.
My only light were candles, my only friends the shadows on the wall.
I don’t know where we live, I never have. I would guess underground, but there’s no way to tell for sure.
Maybe I should start from the beginning.
My mother was Tzipporah. Yes. Tha
i.
His parents had gotten married in a graveyard. That’s where Peter thinks his bad luck comes from.
The ceremony was small, quiet. The polar opposite of a traditional wedding in Nevermore. It was just them and the witch that married them. No feasts, no masks, no dancing. Just his parents, their faces uncovered, loving each other. It was more intimate, they claimed.
His grandparents claimed that it was spiteful; they didn’t want their families involved in the ceremony because neither pair of parents had wanted them together. Peter thought this would rather justify his parents’ decision.
When they were some of the first p
Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please?
Are you bored with the part of your life that everyone sees?
Do you long for the kind of intrigue incurred by regret,
Or perhaps for delicious mystique secured by secrets?
Are you an outspoken leader shunned by society?
A visionary bogged down by dull mediocrity?
An aspiring Socrates spurned by hypocrisy?
An unbridled dreamer limited by reality?
Or a free thinker punished for your eccentricity?
Do these troublesome labels within your community
Instill bothersome, senseless, and cruel notoriety?
Well, ladies and gents,
We proudly present,
A lovely elegant solution for your discontent,
Whe
Diagnosis by Song (Disney) (ALSO OLD) by who-refuse-to-wakeup, literature
Literature
Diagnosis by Song (Disney) (ALSO OLD)
~~~~Poor Unfortunate Souls~~~~
Why was she doing this again?
She was surely pushing her luck. She was now blind, trapped in a straitjacket, and absent from her throne. Anyone could take it. Now her shimmering sapphire eyes were gone, her sanity was shattered, and her empire she had been planning to build in Nevermore was in shambles.
And yet, running over the positives of Laurline’s proposition only served to intensify the impulse to just accept it in wanton disregard for the negatives.
Gigi recalled hearing the door screech on its hinges before she heard the witch’s coercing voice, riddled with “dahling” and &ldqu