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(Untitled)
Some of you will understand why this is awesome. Used for purposes of parody, no intent to steal thunder of original author.
http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y33/JacksPinkHair/ballet.jpg -
(Untitled)
Edward watched the hordes of wasps pour out of the trees and towards the settlement where the Defenders made their stand. He watched them swarming over the stumps of the cleared field and sweeping towards the barricade behind which he stood.
There were too many of them to hold this time, he knew it and so did the men and women who stood with ( Read more... ) -
Crosspost part 3
As I return from the heat of the chase, flush with the victory we have just won, it feels as if the Flame I never managed to take is coursing through my veins. I feel confident, assured, glorious. I am almost feral with the thrill of battle.
I see an old friend, able to greet her openly now after so long in hiding, and my face shows my ( Read more... ) -
Crosspost 2
Edward looked at the page in front of him.
No, that wasn’t right either. Damn it.
Why was it that when he could face down demons, defy the native hordes and survive the wrath of the greatest evil yet to shadow the New World, he was defeated by a simple letter?
It wasn’t as if he didn’t probably already know what he was asking. He just ( Read more... ) -
Fic cross-post
I have needed to grieve for a long time, but I have not had the strength. In the long, bloody year just past I have needed every ounce of my will for the task at hand, the fight against the enemies of the Gods. I have had none to spare for human emotion, none to spare for the dead.
Since many of my closest friends were so cruelly torn from me, ( Read more... ) -
PhDs
I don't usually post anything other than fic on here. However, I figure it's a decent place to ask for advice, and to generally comment on life ( Read more... ) -
Meme
So, a meme ( Read more... ) -
Meme
Edward Hanfling, of the Defenders of the New Forge. Devoted of the Smith, blessings be upon His name.
Do you have any brothers or sisters?
None.
How old are you?
Twenty-six years of age.
What’s your height?
Six feet.
Are you a virgin?
Look, I’m a private man. Please, I don’t want to have to answer that question.
Who’s ( Read more... ) -
(Untitled)
The fury of battle, the heady thrill that fires the blood and mists the vision. The need to kill or be killed, the primal instinct to survive.
The feel of the pistol in my hand, the rough texture of the walnut stock. The grain against my hand, the gilded inlays pressing into my palm and leaving imprints on the skin from my tight grip.
The ( Read more... ) -
(Untitled)
DISAPPOINTMENT
This piece is the alternate interpretation of something I wrote some time ago - imagine the protagonist having come off the field of battle, congratulated by his fellows, bought drinks, and generally lauded with attention for a particularly heroic action during the battle in question - but one that he thinks wasn’t heroic at all ( Read more... )
