earthy-rah

I never thought It would be a pair Of hands that soothed The hurricanes in my Chest, Autumn eyes taking in Scars and bruises and Misconceptions, molding These faults and flaws Into strengths. I never knew that having Fingers on my throat could Teach me how to breathe again, Teach me how to love again, Unconditionally. Thank you.

 Sa'hun: A Basic Species Guide Appearance The Sa'hun are a race of snail-like humanoids. Their skin colors range from pale white to tan to dark (like human skin tones). However, their hair can be nearly any color besides neon colors. However hair can't grow in two different colors (i.e, blue and green) but streaks of the same shade (i.e, red with slightly lighter highlights) is possible. Eyes can be nearly any color besides neon shades. Pupils are incredibly dark, almost black. Sa'hun have ears that are slightly pointed. These ears are elf-like in shape but not overly long. Most Sa'hun are rather pudgy in build. They have slow metabolisms

Name: Hikaru (bright) Matsubara (pine grove) Nickname: None Gender: Male Age: 17 D.O.B: April 14th Race: Kitsune Orientation: Hikaru takes what he can get Occupation: Petty thief Hair: Between thick and thin Hair Color: Black Hair Length: To his earlobes, a bit longer in the back Hair Style: Straight, left alone Eye Color: Golden Eye Shape: Almond Facial Structure: Thin Facial Features: Narrow nose, thin lips Build: Thin, lanky legs, but not very toned Skin Tone: Pale Height: 5'7 1/2 Weight: N/A Scars: None Markings: Clan birthmark on his right shoulder blade Clothing: Typical jeans, t-shirts, and black Etnies   Acce

Name: Alicia Redwood Nickname: Tree Gender Identity: Neutral (uses he/she/their pronouns interchangeably) Sex: Female Age: 17 D.O.B: May 20th Race: Human Orientation: Pansexual Occupation: N/A Hair: Thick Hair Color: Sandy blonde Hair Length: To the middle of her back Hair Style: Left down Eye Color: Icy blue Eye Shape: Round Facial Structure: Inverted triangle Facial Features: Long eyelashes, plump lips Build: Thin, lithe, willowy Skin Tone: Pale but not sickly Height: 5'7 i/2 Weight: N/A Scars: Various Clothing: Long peasant skirts, over-sized shirts, sandals Accessories: Flower crowns, feathers in her hair, etc. Piercings: None Perso

1. What is your full name? Do you have a nickname? A: Jacob Heath Wooding. People call me Jake. 2. How old are you? When is your birthday? A: I'm 19, born on June 12. 3. Where were you born? Where do you live now? Are you patriotic? A: A hospital, in a city. No, I'm not really patriotic. 4. Who are/were your parents? (Names, occupations, personalities, etc.) A: My parents are Lily Banks and James Wooding. (Shut up.) Mom was a nurse in a home for veterans. Dad worked in a school. Mom was kinda quiet and dad was the life of the party. 5. Do you have any siblings? What are/were they like? A: Only child. 6. What is your occupation? A: I do o

She's replaced the Eucharist on her tongue With rose petals, The scriptures in her Heart with Shakespearean Verses and flowery Metaphors. She's staring up At heaven, reaching With eager fingers to Touch the hem of Cassiopeia's gown, Trying hard to hold On to the stars to Stop herself from Falling.

She wrote her poetry between the Lines of notebooks with red covers, Spines caked with stardust and the Prints from her fingers. She couldn't stop her scars turning Into stars, the ink under her nails Feeding verses into the veins of Her lovers arms. Wildflowers grew between her tongue And teeth - she cultivated them with Fingers nearly as broken as her heart. "Forgive us," they said. Oh, she can forgive. But she can never forget.

She walked to the rhythm of the Expectations of others, stepping in Time to their commands and urgings. She was a puppet made to dance, Made to smile and twirl in the face Of the edge that leered up at her. The weight of her apathetic sighs Cracked her ribs and distorted her bones, Arching her just like they wanted. [they left her a tangled mess of heart strings on a forgotten stage.]

When I got home, my mother was waiting, her hands on her hips and murder in her eyes. I gulped, slinking farther into the kitchen with my head ducked, like the lowest wolf in the pack would do when confronted by the alpha. "Do you want to explain just why in the hell I got a phone call from your principal?" She asked coldly. "It was a boy… James. He called me a fag… And other things…" I muttered, eyes on the floor. "So you let your anger get the better of you?" My mother questioned, tapping her foot on the linoleum floor. "He threatened me." My voice dropped to a frightened whisper. "Mom, I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry. It

"Hark, plank-tail! Git back ter work, unless ye want to taste the steel o' my blade across yer back!" Snarled Ripscar, the cruel rat slave driver. He stood glaring at a young otter slave, who had paused in his toil to help an older mouse to his feet. But it looked as though the otter hadn't heard. Clenching his paw into a fist, Ripscar unsheathed his blade, a wicked curved sword, and rushed headlong at the otter. The young slave whirled around, growling and ducking. Ripscar stumbled past, tumbling in a heap near the center of the deck of the Wavelash, one of the most feared corsair ships to sail the southern seas. Kurva, the otter slave, sto

 Russia When he had arrived in Ireland, he hadn't imagined how green it would be. Of course, he had bought a few brochures, read a tad about it's history, had asked England what it was like. Still, none of what he had learned prepared him for the vast green-ness of Ireland. It was beautiful, and he liked it. It was a lovely change of pace compared to the icy lands of his Mother Russia. He was pleasantly surprised when Ireland greeted him at the airport, sporting a grin and wearing one of her 'modern' outfits. She looked like any teenager, clad in a slim black tee-shirt and what she called 'distressed' jeans. He had yet to figure out why the

"We think that we are invincible because we are. We cannot be born, and we cannot die. Like all energy, we can only change shapes and sizes and manifestations." ― John Green, Looking For Alaska "Thomas Edison's last words were 'It's very beautiful over there'. I don't know where there is, but I believe it's somewhere, and I hope it's beautiful." ― John Green, Looking for Alaska "Maybe our favorite quotations say more about us than about the stories and people we're quoting." ―  John Green "If you really love your friends, they're never really gone. Somewhere they're watching over you and they're always there inside your

My spirit may be bent and twisted, But I refuse to let it be broken.

Greyson sat up slowly, swinging her legs over the side of her bed. She winced when she stood up, slowly pulling up the pantleg of her pajama bottoms. The scratches she saw made her grimace. How had she gotten those? Then, in a flash, she remembed. The maze, the thorns, the full moon shining overhead. The mysterious women who had known Greyson's name. Frowning, Greyson slowly lowered her pantleg and hobbled to the bathroom. Stripping off her pants was a painful ordeal, but washing her legs hurt even worse. She put bandaids on the scratches that were particularly bad, and slowly slipped back into her pants. She spent another ten minutes in the

It was a fine morning on the coasts. Seabirds called and wheeled in the skies, and below on the sands, a few young maids had persuaded their parents into letting them leave the fortress of Salamandastron to gather seashells that had washed up on the shore. The inside of Salamandastron was bustling with activity. Hares of all sizes and ages walked about, doing chores and other assorted tasks. One hare in particular, a strong looking male named Gorran, sat at the mess table bouncing his youngest offspring, Bellwen, on his knee. His other two children, two twin leverets named Isabeau and Tannel, sat on either side of them, eagerly watching their