Observation Stories

ලෝකෙ ඉස්සරහ පේන්න ඉන්න රශි ඇයි ඔයා ළඟ ඉන්න කොට ඇයි එළියට එන්නේ නැත්තෙ?? මටත් ඒකමයි තියන ප්‍රශ්නය. මිනිස්සු මූණ දිහාවත් කෙලින් බලන්න බය දේවක ඔයා ළඟදී කෝ කියලා.

The day Bakugou Katsuki's heart stopped beating on live television, her world went silent. It was a strange thing, to mourn someone you had never spoken to. The sound had been turned down on the shattered screen, but his last shout-"WE'LL WIN!"-still rang in her ears, a vow carved into the sudden stillness. In the dusty silence of the refugee shelter, surrounded by the stunned faces of strangers, she did not weep. She simply sat, her own heart pounding a frantic, helpless rhythm against her ribs. And in that hollow quiet, her mind did a desperate, automatic thing. It retreated. It traced the thread of her panic back through years of silent watching, through countless stolen glances, all the way to the very beginning. To the first time she saw him, and the curious, then the understanding she had learned in time with his explosions. *** This is a My Hero Academy Fanfiction. I'm a newbie. This is my first ever fanfiction/work. English is not my first language. This is not quite like romance, and not action-fantasy like the original genre either. So, this might be quite a boring story, but... hope you like it.

Elias Rowe transfers to a school unlike any other, it is an institution where students remain from high school through university, where time layers itself into the very architecture, and where knowledge is only half the battle. As a transfer, he must navigate a world of hidden hierarchies, unspoken rules, and faculty whose authority is quiet but absolute. One encounter with a senior professor forces him to confront the system's subtle power and the costs of being observed-and judged-without consent. In a school that blends Victorian halls, futuristic corridors, and untamed woods, Elias learns that calmness is not the absence of struggle, and belonging comes at a price. A story about observation, hierarchy, and the quiet tension between freedom and conformity, Silent Placement explores the ways we survive in a system designed to outlast us.

Core Concept Era: Early 2000s (socially plausible, but not ancient) Reason for marriage: A written agreement tied to the father's RAW operation gone wrong-meant to protect the family, not tradition alone. Transformation: Trust → respect → quiet affection → love.

Check out the journey of a guy who changes with time and learns not from his but others mistakes

No power. No rules. Just the people left in the dark - and themselves.

Explorations I made while making the Harewe language. They do not teach the language, they tell things I discover about itself and sometimes about nature.

My observations from peering through my basement window into the vivid splendor of nature.

⠀┌────── ∘°🌧°∘ ──────┐ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀sunflowers ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❝ HIMAWARI ❞ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ひまわり. ⠀└────── °∘🌧∘° ──────┘

Two perspectives. Desires and fears.

Poems from the depths of a person's heart that doesn't belong to this place we call 'Earth'

A series of recovered log entries from a race that explores and documents the rise and collapse of one particular system

A closer look at information and conspiracies that have been in Americas history for years but are just now starting to be revealed. 'In the Blink of an Eye' the information is well looked into and thought out before shown to the public. It comes with well provided links and photos to show the point of the view and the truth in the matter... Things happen within a blink of an eye and the human eye is only able to get a glimpse of that moment before it ends.

An Anthology

A collection of columns from my sarcastic and miserable personality.

Title pretty self explanatory. Just a book filled with my theories, observations, and questions (as blunt as they may be)

Poems I wrote. Sort of stupid, sort of emotional, sort of meaningless. Sad, but not in a sad way.

Thoughts run abundant in an open mind. Like an ocean it contains vitality and sustains life. My thought aren't that rare. They are of the simplest and most common thing you would hear everytime. My thoughts echo your own. We were never different. We were crafted and born in the same nature and the same entity. I breathe the air the you breathe; I love like you love; I live like how you live. My thoughts are running like a river finding its way through the sea. And the only way I can live is to feed my soul with words. I crave for sweet words from poetry and novels. They are food to my starving soul. I drink their juice to fill my dry existence. I feel them like satin on a rough sand. Let me bring out these crazy riddles hiding in the deepest part of my head. And maybe just maybe I will be the same again.

Why do writers write? Every writer, since the beginning of time, has pondered this question over the centuries. Writers have an inner need to be heard, like any artist. Writers share their thoughts throughout the ages in various ways. The first images of writing were recorded on the walls of caves, dating back to more than 40,000 years. While modern man, through the invention of written language, records their work in words from books to blogs. I believe writers throughout the ages have been the gatekeepers of human history. We writers are born to write because we must. We are the recorders of the human story. During this Pandemic, I feel an obligation to record my journey. Although I am only one person among millions, I have my simple tale to tell. I am on a quest to refine my skills in the fine art of finding simple abundance in my life, a moment to be thankful. I want to notice it no matter what size, shape, or form it takes. In doing so, I may help others to do the same. I encourage you too to tell your story. No one else will ever be able to tell it the way you can. I hope to inspire you to join me on this journey at the edge of the Pandemic of 2020. The journey commences! Thank you for taking the time to read my work. Please take care of yourself and best wishes always. ~Rose