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STAMP Chapter 5 Part 2XXXXContains explicit and violent sexual content, so if you aren't into that I wouldn't read STAMP.XXXX
They heard the door knock and Tralion sat up, “Come in.” Maron chimed.
Nile walked in and narrowed his eyes at Tralion, “Come on it’s time to do another show.” He ordered and Tralion took the blanket off his legs and dressed, “How was it Maron?” Nile asked.
“It was good Nile, don’t hurt him too badly.” Maron said standing up and putting her shirt on.
Nile put his arm around Tralion as they left, “Don’t worry, I’ll hurt him just enough.”
His arm was heavy but Tralion could still stand up straight as they walked down the hall to the radio room, by now Tralion knew what to expect and where to sit. Maron went to her room to put a pair of shorts on before sitting in the studio.
Reynald cleared his throat and flipped on their mics, “You both look satisfied. I’ll assume it went well.”
Tower: Powerless part twoIn a blinded state I felt myself being magnetically pulled into something. The force that ushered and carried me also sent waves of energy that could rip my body into pieces. It was frightening yet magnificent.I was being engulfed by the core of the force, inside I could hear her screaming. Apatheia's voice went from a sweet intoxication to a surging horror. Memories flashed before my eyes rapidly as burning photographs, each memory hurt more and more. The fire filled my head and remained trapped behind my eyes, attempts to restrain my own cries of suffering were futile. Her scream was so loud and piercing that I pressed my hands against either side of my head, feeling as if it would violently shatter like glass.
It was then that I came realize that I was not blind...I was in pure darkness. Slowly being guided into what would be a probable equivalent to a black hole. My body did not resist, my mind no longer wanted to resist, I had surrendered. Seconds afterwards the fire filled my who
STAMP Chapter 5 Part 1XXXXContains explicit sexual content! So if you aren't into that I wouldn't read STAMP.XXXX
Once Tralion finished his broadcast about sleeping with Vation he shyly watched Reynald make dinner, “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?” He asked.
“Of course I’m sure, I like being in control of everything in the kitchen.” He answered, simmering red potatoes for their vegetable medley.
Tralion glanced to the side, he sat at their island bar and twiddled his fingers, “Sometimes I let Anula or Nile help me, Nile’s very familiar with my way of cooking.” Reynald explained.
“Is he?” Tralion asked, “How come?”
“Well Nile and I have lived with each other for almost ten years, we’ve cooked many a meal together.” He answered smiling at Tralion who nodded.
They heard Nile’s heavy steps walking toward them in the hallway and he sneezed. When he caught sight of Reynald, he walked over to him an
False Prophet'You? Join the Competition? You'd have to be an Arcani to make it ten metres from the gate!' jeered the Curator.
The thin boy looked up at the Curator with an icy, dead-eyed stare. He extended a hand from beneath his tattered coat. A hint of concentration flickered at his face. Streams of entwining yellow light stretched up from his hand, fast turning blue and icy. The mocking sneer on the well-dressed Curator's face turned to shock and fear as the light reached towards his heart. In seconds the Curator exploded in a burst of sapphire. Icy shrapnel destroyed the booth he'd been using to shelter from the snow.
'The rumour that Arcani have short tempers is completely false. Arcani are emotionless psychopaths. However, many short-tempered people were killed in the so-called "Arcani Hunts".', the boy enunciated in a monotone, almost as if he were reprimanding himself.
The people in line behind him recoiled, shocked. One man produced a gun from a wolf-fur coat.
The boy straightened up. Flin
The Campaign, chapter 2 Gnaeus seethed in silence as he sat in his parlor, the hurly-burly of his household not holding a fraction of his attention. The day was beautiful outside, and his home shone like gold in the warm sunlight. Unhappiness was all that touched the lawyer’s mind.
This old, sour-faced magistrate, Postumius, had publicly humiliated him. Now Gnaeus was the one with the sour face. He twiddled his thumbs, and let his anger show. His wife, Naevia, said at the door that this was unsuitable behavior for a civilized Roman.
Fie to suitable behavior, he thought. Gnaeus’ loyalty had been put into question, and his late mother’s pedigree insulted. Never in his thirty-four years had he been so exposed. If he were to ever set foot in the senate house again, Gnaeus would surely have to have his revenge.
The click of rotating dice in someone’s hand slowly gripped his attention. The elfin face of his f
MemoriesMemories. So many things can trigger a flashback to a time, a place, a moment in life that is locked somewhere in your memory, forgotten amongst all the commotion of life. The smell of a particular perfume often reminds me of a woman, a woman who no matter how hard I try, is forever stuck in my consciousness. A familiar song can send me reeling back to my past, remembering conversations, parties, acts of drunken stupidity and teenage desperation. The touch of a hand on shoulder can bring lost emotion surging up from a place where they had been buried so deeply, I thought only a whisper remained. What we have been through, the loves we have found and the loves we have lost, the mistakes we have made and the decisions that lifted us up, the opportunities missed and the chances we have seized, the times of overwhelming despair to the times of tumultuous joy ... they all shape us, form us and make us the person we are. Despite this, many of us struggle t
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