Something wasn't right. If Rain had finally turned, if she was dead, then why was she still aware? Why could she see herself trying to dig her teeth into Matt's neck, desperate to tear open the flesh? . . . This fic contains blood, gore, death, & violence.

Rain already knew Alice's name before the whole shitshow began. Alice knew hers. Both of them were quite familiar with each other, actually. Well. More than familiar. They were close. They had something. Not that anyone would know.

Forsaking God to kiss someone you hate might not be a smart decision, but damn does it hurt good. ✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.* Judith was never supposed to fall in love- but she was never supposed to become a vampire either. It's her duty as a nun to stay pure of mind and body. If she is found out, she will be executed. When the woman she loves betrays her, Greta, the vampire who accidentally infected her, may be her only hope of surviving. The problem is, Judith can't stand Greta. -But she can't stay away from her either.

When a blind oracle stumbles into Medusa's lair she expects the usual routine. People criticizing her or trying to kill her. Instead she finds out there are worst things in this world and they all seem to want one little oracle. What is an ancient monstress supposed to do? (I really like this art and don't know who it belongs too. If you know who they are tell me so I can credit them appropriately!)

Cigarettes, lilac skies and poetry at 3am: sixteen-year-old Pietro ''Pit'' Rossi knows the adrenaline of feeling empty and infinite at the same time. With the reputation of a goofy idiot who doesn't care about anything at all, getting held back at school doesn't seem like a problem. But it is. Because Pit cares about everything, and he always cares too much. [[word count: 70,000-80,000 words]]

I had to strike your name out of my book. I did it straight away, without hesitation. The ink was running because I was crying, and I scribbled so forcefully that the page tore. Now, I wish I hadn't have taken you off the list. Even though you're not here, you're still a reason. Even though you're dead, I want to live for you. * Vincent Van Gogh ate yellow paint because he hoped it would get rid of all of the blue inside of him and make him happy. Carston Prince held his breath for so long that he eventually blacked out because he hoped it would get rid of all of the heaviness and make him light again. They lived 110 years apart. One is dead, the other is dying. But they are both artists, lost as they might be in all the sadness, desperately seeking dawn.

They're like quotes. They make you feel something. Six words can mean a lot.

A girl woke up at 2am and decided to drown her thoughts before it drowns her.

"She stood balanced above the world, taking in the beautiful nighttime view over city and bay. A melody picked up and it was as if she was hearing the final song that plays just before the end credits start to roll down the big screen..."

poetry by a person that's afraid of people. 12/23/15- #1 in poetry