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Wolf GirlI'm sure if you're reading this you've read the Twilight Saga. Great. That means you know all about the whole "Jacob's a werewolf and werewolves are these shirtless guys and blah blah blah." I can skip the long part about my tribe's strange secret. But if you know that...
...you probably know about me. And chances are, you hate me. Just like everyone else.
Leah. Leah Clearwater.
Also known as "Seth's sister", "the weird girl wolf", "Sam's annoying ex", or just plain "annoying".
I get that a lot, and I don't blame you. I don't see how anyone can stand being around me. What am I to the pack? A weird thing they'd rather not deal with? That's about it. I can read their thoughts, I know how it is. Playing wolf was all fun and games until I came along. They hate sharing a mind with me.
Again, I don't blame them.
My thoughts are a tumbled heap of hurt, longing, and confusion. Anyone would hate dealing with it. Ever since Sam dumped me because of that stupid imprinting crap, I've been a burden
Unsteady, UnsureHis hand traced up and down my arm again. "Would you like me to stop doing this?"
I hesitated, unsure of what I thought. "Yes," I decided. "That...the thing you're doing...it makes it harder for me to think. And Mel...she's angry at me. That also makes it hard to think."
'I'm not angry at you, Wanda. Just make him go away.'
'Ian is my friend. I'm sorry, but I don't want him to leave.'
He leaned away, his arms folding across his chest. "I don't suppose she'd actually give us a minute alone?"
I laughed. "I doubt it."
Ian tilted his head to one side, his expression was very speculative. "Melanie Stryder?" He had addressed her.
We both started at the name.
Ian went on. "I'd like a chance to speak with Wanderer privately, if that's okay with you. It is your body."
'Of all the nerve! You tell him I said no chance in Hell! I do not like him. Do you hear me, Wanderer?'
My nose wrinkled up. And Ian noticed.
"What did she say?" he asked, almost hesitantly.
I laughed a little, unsteady on how to
Their HellHe knew he loved her.
But he didn't want to accept it.
Her lovely red hair, tantalizing brown eyes.
So different from Lucy.
So much better.
She truly loved him, as well.
She stayed behind him.
Was willing to hide his murders for him.
It didn't matter that she lied.
He lied, didn't he?
He lied about much more important things.
She lied about Lucy.
He didn't know what to think.
Even now, as he's cradling her pale corpse.
There was a time when he thought she was the one.
A time when he wanted to murder to avenge her.
But there was also the time she was dead.
It was easier then.
He shaved, he murdered.
Occasionally a picnic with...her.
If only she had really been dead.
Things wouldn't be this way.
Now, he thinks he hates Lucy.
Because of her, she's dead.
But he also has to thank the poor girl.
In a way, she created him.
His past love for her inspired the rage that led to his new life.
His new life with her.
He finally forced her name.
She was his perfect little
The HuntHis eyes are like darts
They'll pierce through your heart
His voice takes your life away
And his touseled bronze hair
Will fill you with despair
Because you know that this just won't stay
His irises so red
Are proof you'll be dead
As he's coming in for the kill
Ice freezes your veins
You beg your legs to run away
But his face has taken your free will
Soon he's right next to you
You know your life will be through
But somehow you just don't care
Now he's grabbing your face
Sucking the feeling away
You find yourself gasping for air
And then he's gone in a flash
You're left burning in the grass
The trees around you now fading away
But one last memory of
That stone-skinned dove
Who you met in the woods that day.
Don't Let Him Hurt You"Puddin! Please, don't kick me out again! You know how much I love you!" Harley pleaded for permission to stay, but Joker had had enough!
"HAAAARLEY! I will not have you screwing up every little plan I make! OUT!" He pointed toward the door and threw her purse across the room. "And take the stupid mongrels with you!"
Harley slowly got up off her knees. "Puddin. Mistah J. Please." She tried to wrap him in a hug, but he shoved her to the floor and went back to his desk. Harley's lip quivered and tears streamed down her face. After much limping she managed to hobble to her purse and feebly mumble, "Babies. Come here." The two massive hyenas looked up happily and bounded toward her. She gave them a faint smile, and looked at Joker one last time. "Why don't you love me?" she whispered, petting Lou on the neck.
Knock knock knock. For some strange reason, there was a knock at Jonathan Crane's door. He set down the new fear toxin he was working on and cautiously tiptoed across the room. He bac
Bedtime at the Crane HouseholdIt was late Sunday night.
Tomorrow Barbara had to get up to go back to college. Ugh. And Jonathan had to get up to go to work. Even bigger ugh.
The two were sleeping peacefully in their room. Happy that they had lost their pride (and some of Barbara's brain) and gotten married. Just perfect.
Suddenly, a yelp was heard from their 3-year-old twins' room. Both their eyes shot open at once.
"I'll get a bat."
"I'll get fear toxin."
Then another yelp sounded, even louder.
They both got up and bolted to the room. Barbara got their first.
"What is it, baby?" Jonathan called.
After a short pause, Barabara yelled, "Jonathan! Get in here!"
He raced down the hall to find Clyde, their son, crying in his bed. Bonnie, their daughter, holding up a chair ready to throw it. And at the window...
"Crap." Barbara whispered and ran to pick up Clyde, who buried his face in his hands.
Jonathan marched up to the dark pointy-eared figure. "What makes you think you can just come up here and scare the goo
20Q in Arkham?The strange thing about Joan Leland, she worked in the worst possible place for a woman like her. She hated it. She hated the inmates, she hated the coworkers, she hated her boss. Heck, she even hated the wallpaper in the lounge. And today she hated Arkham double, because it was Monday. And that meant her weekend was over. Not only that, but her stupid boss was making her start group therapy. Another reason to hate him. And her first session couldn't be with worse people.
Nygma. Crane. And-why her?-Joker.
The three most immature people she had ever met.
Now she was positive Arkham was out to get her. She was huffing and puffing like the Big Bad Wolf as she made her way into the building. Her own little Leland way of showing the Asylum just how ticked off she really was. She could feel the eyes of everyone from inmates to nurses shift toward as she stomped to her office. She didn't care a bit. Let them all think she's insane! Maybe she'd finally get fired.
She was jerke
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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