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Mr. Abbine SpeaksMr. Abbine, I'm going to show you a few pictures. I want you to identify the people for me."I'll do what I can."Can you tell me who this is?"That's my good for nothing neighbor. He sits around his deck and smokes all day. Then he goes inside and probably gets high from pot or something stupid like that. I'll bet that guy is living off Welfare, the scumbag. Don't even get me started on the whore he keeps around-"Mr. Abbine, please try to keep your answers focused on the subject. Can you identify this woman for me?"That's my mother. She calls me three times a day to complain about how something 'isn't as great as it used to be.' I once told her she sounded old, and she started crying. Then she started calling me more often. Even though I've moved out twenty years ago, that woman continues to be a drain on my life."Very good. This younger gentleman, tell me about him."That's Gary. He's a needy pain-in-the-ass. I swear, he follows me around work all day. Every day, with this guy. I
when spring comes - one.his bedroom is dimly lit, with a musty smell that reminds me of my grandparents old house. the curtains are dark and thick; allowing only small, fragmented beams of light through the dust-coated window. he has mattresses on his floor, slathered in thick, patterned blankets and old pillows. in the corner he has an old stereo system, with two large speakers sitting on top of it. from it plays a quiet, scratchy 1920s band - a jaunty and jazzy tune that scares away the silence that usually hangs gloomily over his bedroom.the paint on the right hand wall was cracked and peeling in places but for the most it was covered with old photos that stretched from the floor to the roof. some of them made me smile as i ran my eyes over them, still trying to remain conscious of his movements behind me. i turned to face him and saw that hanging on either side of the windows were large, cracked mirrors in dark wood frames. i told him it was probably dangerous to have them there, and he smiled and told m
butsometimes everything is okaywhen you've taken everything you can findand your arms are heavyand you're losing a war with yourselfbut she's always here.make her go away.you lie on your mothers bed and you cry because she calls you stupidand because you're afraid of the darkand of being aloneand then you are all alone and she's with you butyou've got nothing left on your bedside tableand nothing leftto live forexcept a boy who won't callbut it's fine.and everything's always fine.because your heart hurts and your heart burnsbut you can't keep your eyes openand then you lie down and hope that you die.
Myself [Psycho!Reader x Rivaille/Levi] chap.3Myself [Psycho!Reader x Rivaille/Levi]WARNING! Attention readers! Beware of psychopaths and sadist. Don't like don't read. The further chapters, could contain creepiness and violence.Chapter 3 — Monsters"In case, maybe we should dissect her too...""Please wait! Maybe I am a monster, but she has nothing to do with this!"«Monsters... Huh..»"You're defending her, so she's still on your party! ""It's the truth!""How can we trust you?""No!!" Eren yelled, following an awkward silence. Accused of betrayal of humanity, he was attached and bending on the ground. You stood there crossing your arm, beside Hanji, as bored as ever."I-I mean, you are wrong. But, you are only talking on your own too. And, even if you never saw a Titan, what are you so afraid of?" After a mere hesitation, he spoke again, "If you have the power, then why don't you fight? If you hold the power and are too afraid to fight, then lend me your strength! Cowards..."«How interesting. Having
My Little Pony - Hospice IBefore diving into this, I think some background would be useful. When she was young, she had dreams. Dreams of shining and of making others shine. She made herself and others look beautiful; for that initial interim she held high. When she fell (south of Ponyville, Old Manehattan-land) her dreams became nightmares, seizing her by the hoof and never letting go. She was taken and put into a bed of rust and red crosses. I was one of the few who had the time to give. She wanted me dead but it pained her to see me walk out those sliding doors.Now, I won't pretend I understand. I never will know what she went through for those ten months and two days. She had a constant sting in her side that she claimed she could only numb by sticking her head in the stove. Her nightmares became easier during this time. And I like to think that I did my best in the time that she had to make her comfortable, even when the sting became too painful to breathe.But let it be known that this w