|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Magi: Not a magician 4 (Judal x Reader)4. The promise
When you left your village, carrying a heavy bag with you, he sighed. You looked at him, but he only waved his hand. You didn’t ask about anything till you reached the nearest town. You were literally dying. You’ve never sweated so much like now and what’s more, you didn’t feel your legs. Judal told you to sit on a bench and wait for him. You nodded, heavy breathing.
It was already a dead of the night. The moon was big and bright and the cold wind was caressing your cheeks. You couldn’t think clearly about your current situation. It was just too ridiculous and unreal for you.
Suddenly something covered the moon. You couldn’t believe your eyes.
‘What is it?!’ you gasped. Judal sighed and jumped off of the flying carpet.
‘Don’t you tell me that you thought we are going all the way on foot’ he said and put your bag on the carpet. ‘Come on, sit on it’
You looked at it with
Magi: Not a magician 3 (Judal x Reader)
3. Magi of the Kou Empire
Those twenty minutes were the shortest twenty minutes in your life. You’ve never hurried so much like now. You wore plain, white dress and told your parents that you would be late for dinner. Then you left your house, stressed out and curious. He was leaning against the spruce, looking at you. You gulped and went closer.
‘Fine’ he said. ‘Let’s go to the forest’.
‘Is it necessary?’ you asked, having a quick glance at your home.
‘I don’t want anyone to disturb us’ he said and went towards the forest. You tried to keep his rate, which was really difficult because of your tiredness. When you finally reached the place, he turned around to look at you. You stopped and bit your lower lip.
‘Okay, Birdie’ Judal sat on a fallen bough and invited you to sit next to him. When you did it, he said: ‘You claim that you dream about me, that it was me who told you about rukh and
Magi: Not a magician 2 (Judal x Reader)2. The last chance
Fire again. The walls are collapsing, making you feel small and powerless. You are looking around, trying to see through the grey smoke. You are calm and silent. No one could care about your shout.
Because – you thought bitterly – no one is there.
As far as you knew, there were white butterflies and black birds behind those walls. Why were they the most beautiful things in that world? Butterflies and birds. They had wings which you could use to fly over the fire. Thanks them you could escape and survive.
You spread your arms and closed your eyes. Why couldn’t you just imagine that you are a bird, before you will burn?
‘Hey, your wings are burning, Birdie’.
You woke up. Your heart was beating very fast, your hands were incredibly hot. You sighed, trying to cool down. As you’d thought, the nightmare came to you again. Like in a vicious circle. Without stopp
Magi: Not a magician 1 (Judal x Reader)
1. The man from the nightmares
You were standing in flames, burning.
It wasn’t the first time you were in a such kind of situation. You knew perfectly what would happen next. You were looking for him, after those cold eyes, after that smile… You were listening carefully to the flames’ song. Your skin was becoming black. White rukh were surrounding you, you could feel their warmth, their power and your destiny.
This fire could be your strength.
It was a nightmare you used to have for all that nights, before you met him personally. Yes, now he was standing in front of you, in the middle of Leam Empire’s forest. How it was possible, you weren’t able to answer. Those eyes, that smile, that really long segmented ponytail. You couldn’t believe your eyes.
‘What’s wrong?’ He asked, coming closer.
You gulped, being all abroad. He couldn’t be real. You couldn’t dream about THIS
SnK - When... (Eren x Levi)When I remind myself…
’ Eren, what is it?’
‘It looks like a dead rat…’
‘Get rid of it.’
I took the rat and threw it outside into the bush. Then I met Hanji. When I told her about the rat, she smiled apologetically. She admitted that she had stepped on the rat when she had been running – of course, she was in hurry so she had no time to throw the dead animal away. I growled but she ruffled my hair.
‘Calm down!’ she said happily, walking away. ‘See you in the evening!’
I remember that I didn’t laugh. But now… because of this memory I’m smiling a bit.
When I look back…
‘Hanji! I’m not able…’
‘Calm down, Eren.’ Her voice was gentle and calm when she was leaning over me.
She put left hand on my forehead – it was really cold. She tilted my head back. ‘Open your eyes.’
I could barely see anything. The
Dni zwyczajne - cz.3Od tego momentu właściwie nie zmieniło się nic. Nadal spotykali się w poniedziałki, starając się jednak w pełni skoncentrować na chemii. Wieczorem w sobotę biegali po parku. Emilia zachowywała się normalnie, chociaż już nigdy, przenigdy nie weszła do pokoju brata, gdy przychodził Kuba. Rodzice byli zadowoleni z poprawy w nauce ich syna. Pan Edward nadal węszył, czy jego syn ma dziewczynę, chociaż ostatnio miał dużo pracy i wracał do domu po nadgodzinach. Powodowało to u niego jeszcze większe rozdrażnienie, co z kolei przyczyniało się do nadludzkiej uległości ze strony pani Katarzyny.
- Mamo, co ty wyprawiasz? – spytał pewnego dnia Kuba, gdy ojca nie było jeszcze w domu.
- O co ci chodzi? I co to za ton? – odpowiedziała pani Katarzyna, myjąc kuchenkę gazową.
- Dobrze wiesz, o co. I nie m
Dni zwyczajne - cz.2Biblioteka znajdowała się w alejach, niedaleko centrum miasta. Spotykali się tam co tydzień w poniedziałek, siadali przy stoliku obok okna i omawiali materiał. Emil przynosił książki i zeszyty z dwóch klas oraz osobny zeszyt na dodatkowe notatki. Kuba najpierw przeglądał to, co zamierzali opracować, a potem zaczynał opowiadać wszystko po kolei. Zadawał pytania, pomagał mu rozwiązać zadania z podręcznika i sam dyktował mu zadania ze swojego starego zbioru. Okazał się być bardzo dobrym nauczycielem. Gdy zaczynał opowiadać o chemii, jego szare oczy nabierały niesamowitego blasku, energii, która przemawiała do Emila.
Po miesiącu Emil zaczął przynosić wydrukowane matury z poprzednich lat. Nigdy nie spędzali w bibliotece więcej czasu niż dwie godziny, dlatego najpierw pobieżnie przeglądali zadania, po
Dni zwyczajne - cz.1- Naprawdę nie rozumiem, po cholerę zwracają na siebie uwagę?! - wykrzyknął pan Edward Chabrowski, uderzając dłonią w gazetę. Pani Katarzyna, zajęta prasowaniem sterty ubrań, uniosła wzrok na męża, natomiast Kuba, ich dwudziestojednoletni syn, dalej grał na konsoli. Dopiero następne zdanie sprawiło, że całkowicie zamarł. - Te wszystkie parady, szum wokół ich problemu, tak, bo to jest problem, skaza na ludzkości, obraza świętości! Myślą, że jak przejdą się ulicami z hasłami wołającymi o pomstę do nieba, to nagle wszyscy zaczną im przyklaskiwać! Cholerne pedały!
Kuba powoli odwrócił się w stronę ojca, czując na sobie spojrzenie matki.
- Tato, o czym ty teraz mówisz? - zapytał, choć dobrze wiedział, o co chodzi. Przejrzał tą samą ga
SnK- Soothing whisper (Armin x Annie)She lays in bed, breathing calmly. She’s dreaming so long, having nightmares.
She is the nightmare no one wants to believe in.
The sun is high in the sky, which is cloudless and blue. Blue like his eyes. Blue like their hearts. The wind is blowing a bit, caressing red flowers in the garden, whispering to a world full of sadness. This whisper is barely audible. But it doesn’t have to be heard. It has to be felt. These soothing words make them asleep.
Because there’s no fear in a dream.
He slowly opens the door. Then he comes in, holding red flowers in his hand. He stands near the bed, lays flowers on a tiny table and then sits down on a stool. He places his palm on her forehead.
‘Annie?’ he whispers.
She is asleep. So calm, so innocent. So beautiful.
He swallows hard and blushes. He slants a bit, stroking her cheek.
‘Annie, wake up. It’s high time you swallowed the pills’
She smiles in her dream, turning her head to the boy.
A message to the brokenYou drown yourself
in liquid sorrows,
letting the salty mess
burn your wounds,
and the sadness
to drip in your mouth,
consuming your words
and you say
you deserve the pain,
but I want to dry your face,
and whisper in your ear
how the clouds cry too,
while they hold such beauty,
and so do you.
Pretty metaphors are for pretty girlsI told you to stop
spewing pretty metaphors at me,
for with each elaborate comparison,
I feel a bit more
detached from this world
And maybe I don’t feel so strong at the moment,
but would you be
if you felt like the entire universe
was resting upon your shoulders,
and someone was just there saying:
But you’re stronger than the powerful beats
of a butterfly’s wings
And maybe I do need more confidence,
but would you exuberate it
when the part you hated most about yourself
were the freckles that have speckled your face for years,
and someone was just there muttering:
They’re not flaws,
but rather stars that form constellations
Yes, I can’t help but hate
all those unrealistic metaphors
you choose to pelt at me when I’m low,
yet the irony is,
I know that those beautiful words
are realistic in your eyes,
So I can’t hate you.
dark circlesi haven't slept well in 14 days
my eyes droop pretty colors
'50 shades of purple and grey,
they're bags and they're designer'
making jokes is how i cope
with chapped lips and constant chap-stick
it tastes like honey and mint
i laugh and say i'm addicted.
hooded lids and sleepy smiles
during lunch at subway
my friends ask if I'm okay
I say that I'm just tired.
but really when I see him with her
my heart sinks to the tiles
she's pretty and witty and sure as hell she can sing
and i'm just a loud bone-collector.
when I see her with him,
dancing and laughing and grinning,
the ring on her finger
laughs at my singularity.
for as much as i lie and as much as i try
my loneliness still creeps in,
because no matter how much they protest,
i'm still the lowly fifth-wheel.
walking behind them on sidewalks
that are wide, but built for four
smiles and laughs when they look back
but the frown creeps evermore.
pelvis peaks through paper-thin skin
and knuckles white and pale
my ribs are empty, my bo
Clear WristA clear wrist, barren of scars,
as opposed to skin sauntered in marks,
tells a trickier story than it's soiled and raw,
uncaring, unkempt counter part.
Bravery, I think it holds,
the strength to bare unimaginable loads
of pain and suffering through endless times,
and withstanding the agony of sleepless nights.
Some think it is fear, the reluctance to cut,
but I believe it opposite, it show courage and guts.
To bear your pain without a nick on your wrist,
is like a solider braving his terrain while being torn limb from limb.
Agonizing as it is, to hide your pain,
you do it so well, and no attention you'll gain.
At the end of the day, it's not cry for attention,
rather a cry for the victory that's silently mentioned.
Your scars are those not self inflicted,
and despite the gnawing intention,
to harm yourself and ease your pain,
the scars you earn are rightfully gained.
In a room of those who have jumped the gun,
and left traces of blood deep in their arms,
do not be tempted to do the sam
specter boys have always looked best sinkinghe says,
i want to count all 206 &
feel the notches of your ribs -
i want you, weary boy, to
phase yourself down while
you are burning inside out.
i will seethe inside your skull
like thoughts, like cigarette filters;
you will thank me as i molder in your marrow.
These Faded KeysOf all the keys I click
As we speak each day,
It's the back arrow
That's faded most
These white letters
Would surely tell you,
I reply to everything -
But the key reading "enter"
Will be the one to explain
Why it still looks new
I want you to know
Just how much I care,
But I don't want to be close
Out of the fear of losing you
But please remember:
I dedicate these words to you,
Sharing them to the world
Rather than clicking away
At the faded key ~
Keep in Touch!