Unseen-Writers

I need kisses, hugs, and drugs, They looking to pull the plug, I can’t get enough, I need your love; I can’t get enough… Iron on me, (okay) shaking like a leaf when I don’t got your company, Made this song, for you, and you only, hate it when I’m lonely, That’s one of my properties, it hits fast easily, Ain’t trying to be upset on this track, um so I’ll rap, feelings out, slow and fast, Pray to God that I don’t crash, Without you I’m on an icy road, drugs got me driving slowly, But to be honest they gotta go, I need kisses, hugs, and drugs, They looking to pull the plug, I can’t get enough, I need your love; I can’t get enough… I need kisses, hugs, and drugs, They looking to pull the plug, I can’t get enough, I need your love; I can’t get enough… I need kisses, hugs, and drugs, They looking to pull the plug, I can’t get enough, I need your love; I can’t get enough… You can stay, no need to go, we can take this fast or slow, I prefer a mix of both, you know, (you dig?) Okay, who wants control? You taking over? Or is it my go, To make you happy or is it a mix of both? Uh, kisses, hugs, I can’t get enough, no, Without you I’m on an icy road, drugs got me driving slowly, But to be honest they gotta go, I need kisses, hugs, and drugs, They looking to pull the plug, I can’t get enough, I need your love; I can’t get enough… I need kisses, hugs, and drugs, They looking to pull the plug, I can’t get enough, I need your love; I can’t get enough… I need kisses, hugs, and drugs, They looking to pull the plug, I can’t get enough, I need your love; I can’t get enough… They gotta go, go, and you gotta stay, without you I’m nothing I ain’t gonna play, See the smile on my face, that you gave, to me, throw the frown away, Chilling out to the max, (ayy) throw the pills out uh, don’t need them today, As long as you’re with me, I’ll be okay… I need kisses, hugs, and drugs, They looking to pull the plug, I can’t get enough, I need your love; I can’t get enough… I need kisses, hugs, and drugs, They looking to pull the plug, I can’t get enough, I need your love; I can’t get enough… I need kisses, hugs, and drugs, They looking to pull the plug, I can’t get enough, I need your love; I can’t get enough…

It was a swamp. A damned swamp. Erza wasn't sure what she hated most about about this swamp. Perhaps it was the heat. Perhaps it was the scummy water she wad to walk through, up to her knees. Perhaps it was the humidity. Suddenly an insect flew up her nose. "Ka-CHOO!!!!" Wildly she batted at more of the bugs. They were flying around her face, buzzing, seemingly trying to get into her nose. No, it was definitely the bugs. They were everywhere, hundreds, thousands of them, all seemingly attracted to her, Erza. A shushing sound drew her attention. Erza saw her friend and mentor, Ylarr, looking at her, a stern look on her face. "To warn wanting ye our enemies here we are, aye, lass?" Ylarr shook her silver tressed head. "A bad thing be that, oh aye." "But Ylarr, it flew up my nose!" Erza protested. Yarr nodded. "Do that bugs sometimes, aye, lass. Of them full this swamp be, oh aye." Erza looked around, noting the others in the group. Slyesti, black haired, slender, an

Traveling the tracks, Carrying people and freight. We must stay on time!

R. A. Weldings | An Arkonia Tale - Act 5 Out of hardship, new life is meant to emerge like a Phoenix rising from the ashes of its flame. It certainly seemed that I managed to, with the help of the Weldings of course! So, here is a chapter of my life that I am… extra-fond of. This is when I began forging a name for myself, started pushing myself to my utmost limits, and really began to learn so much more… Naturally, dark things still lingered in my mind, but I’m quite happy to say that the happier times lingered more here... Cries of horror erupted into the cold air, fire flickered all around… and Their chant… That macabre chant an echo in his being. The dusk was stained by the gruesome views that flooded the streets that night… “N-no… Not again… No… NO!” Ryan was jarred awake, nearly flying out of his bed as he sat bolt upright. He desperately sucked air into his heaving lungs as a cold sweat shivered down his shuddering back. He was fifteen now, and had been enjoying the last

Three boys dared each other to go into an old house That sat at the top of the hill just outside of town. The house was old and was falling apart. It seemed to have been abandoned for years. No one could remember who owned the place Nor who even had lived in it, whenever that was. The three boys entered the house at sunset, As they wanted to see who could stay in that place the longest And wanted to make the setting as spooky as possible. They had all packed some snacks and a flashlight with fresh batteries As each of them had planned on staying a while. They gazed about the location. It looked like a house out of an old Hollywood movie, Except much more run down and exposed to the elements. The elegant old-style furniture was rotting away And a musty smell filled the air. Vases and sculptures sitting on tables and pedestals Were all collecting dust and cobwebs. The three decided to split up and explore different rooms. One entered the living room and looked around, Another took a

Mister Sandman, he's more than he seems, has a handle on all of your dreams. His intention is mastering sleep. You'll be quiet while slumbering deep. While you're waking he's being deprived of every mind he wants to imbibe. Meanwhile, children who struggle awake and find that life is harder to take, ask for guidance while going to bed and imagine him inside their head. When they wake up they struggle instead to remember whatever he said. It won't matter, his purpose is clear; he'll inculcate the children so dear. When he needs them to wake and deploy, he'll activate a girl and a boy. Then, they'll march out, call others to arms, and scare the world with nightmarish charms.

Note to the reader: Heartbreaker takes place over the span of 125 years. The protagonists are 5 years old at the beginning. Dance class occurs 5 years later. Spring festival when they are 16. The picnic and orc/goblin attack when they are in their 30s. The final, large section occurs when they are 130 years old. Young, for an elf. It was just a bush. A small bush, really, about 4 feet tall and 3 feet wide. Its' leaves were broad and dark green, better to catch sunlight. It had canes, not a central stem, with branches going in all directions. There were no thorns or sharp things on the bush, for this was a friendly bush, a hospitable bush. This one grew lush berries, very sweet to eat, and of good size for such. It required only sunlight and water, both in plenty, to grow and provide the berries. The berries were green in color, deepening to a dark red when ripe, and ready for picking and eating. Bushes of this type were common in elven lands, and quite popular, for they

I cut water standing  atop my Friendship's head. With droplets running down into the oceans red, reflections of the sun, mark the tides a crimson and beautify the waves. Waters are made winsome. Sometimes I drown under my overwhelming life. I walk over rigged lines on the edge of a knife. Just as I go under  the riptide I deplored, there you are above me and pull me back aboard.

In a loving embrace she plans on keeping me warm, she's got a magical countenance atop of her form, inside of her mind it proves so powerful strong that I can't do justice lest I'm singing a song. There's a sense of urgency that's guiding my pen to say all the pretty poems that's up in my head again. Inside of her mind it proves so powerful strong that I can't do justice lest I'm singing a song. The love that I fell reveals with instant appeal as the melodies saturate the air that she steals. I'm out of breath and she's knocked the wind out of me one punch to the gut; she tells me she's proud of me. The butterfly flies away so vibrantly wild, she's got a charming composure and a radiant smile. Gazing upon the children living in glowing space from the starburst shining forth from her face. She's got a rogue streak, she's shocking, no time for static she's rocking out to the paradise by dashboard light with every word ingrained in her by deep dark night. No one's as powerful that I

Sigh, Thing, Sigh In this sigh, some thing so beautiful - beautiful, and this thing above, this ugly second, big and touching; so without, infinite - underneath sigh, again understood without words, thing, some touching words, some thing infinite, beautiful; some short second, sigh, thing so beautiful; thing underneath, thing above sigh again, this so beautiful; so short, this time, so this big, ugly thing - understood beautiful - in time . MaggotsX @ 06.11.2023

After merely four hours Of bending and reaching on a concrete floor in a warehouse, My back and neck always ache With an irritation that seems to drone out loud, Worse on some days than on others. My spine and neck need their sweet relief. Thus, on a bed within my bedroom, I sink into the mattress and the pillow in defeat. Even my thoughts and my feelings are weary. I feel quite unable to focus and meditate. With a cellular telephone in my hands, I stream videos for several hours straight, Mostly about video games, Animated series, comics, and weird movies. Sometimes, I try to expand my mind With videos about religion, occultism, and history. What about the ones who work Many more hours every day To provide their two or three children With food and medicine and still have bills to pay? With such a greater pained fatigue, How can they give their families proper care, Much less march for justice? Even with real pain, I remain aware.

I have learn to let go Instead of holding on so long I have learn to grow I have learn how to be strong I want to sing my own song I have learn to change First it was very strange I have learn to be wise Everyday is a new surprise I have learn how to live I have learn how to forgive I have learn how to be right I have learn how to fight I have learn how to be kind I have learn how to work with my mind I have learn how to leave it behind I have learn how I special things always find Sometimes things come easy sometimes not Often I take a photo and it is my best shot I'm not a fast learner oh God no But no matter how I can and will grow I'm maybe a thinker and a dreamer too But I will learn how to see the wrong in right In everything I will always do Yeah that is from me always the best side That my dear is oh so very true Jill

The hotel suite that had been booked for the night was a lavish, luxurious space that took up a fifth of the top floor of the hotel. It had a great living area, a balcony overlooking Celadon City, as well as a master bedroom, ensuite bathroom with a jacuzzi bathtub big enough for four, and its own separate dining area, though that wouldn’t be used until the morning for breakfast. Ash looked out onto the city, smiling as he rested against the balcony rails. Gary was inside double checking their reservations for both the dinner and the show. This was perfect. The location, the event, the evening. It was the perfect way to celebrate five years of being a couple. Ash wondered what the future held for them both. Ash closed his eyes as he pictured what would happen. He felt the embrace of Gary as his boyfriend wrapped his arms around Ash’s waist. He could feel Gary press against his back, and his arousal. Ash let out a moan of pleasure as he straightened up, his head resting against Gary’s

Agustina Bazterrica’s “Tender is the Flesh,” sensual shapes, cyberpunk neon pastel lit contours, cheeks made for eating… My body aches, from age, from hunger, from years of simmering, my skin, my soul, my pen on fire, pulsations beneath the surface quickening, drumming animalism, ancient, beautiful, primitive, raging hunger within, famished, my eyes, in the dark, glistening static & electric I crave your touch, your scent, your lips, your thighs, your toes, your chest, your stomach, your spit, your shoulders, your neck, your back, your cunny, your cheeks, and the hole in between Dripping with devouring, my gluttony, wet with unanswered prayers and agony, the roar grows, deafening, my grip tightens, my fingertips tingle, breath comes faster, gasping, I long to long, to feel, to have, to hold, to taste, EVERYTHING, to devour you whole, if only, for a moment in the grand scheme, a simple, singular moment of otherness, where I can become nothing, devoured by my

A man named Raymond sat down in a chamber in a secret lab deep in the north of Canada. He was then standing with wires attached to his solid frame and his eyes scanned a room of busy scientists. Raymond had displayed an amazing intelligence all his life and seemed to have hidden knowledge that amazed everyone around him, though he suffered from a type of psychosis the more this wisdom of his increased. He was admitted to a mental institution later on in life and deemed as delusional and psychotic and was denied a brain scan for a heightened brain function upon his request. His amazing intellect however led him to be discovered by a secret research team that had infiltrated the hospital and had taken him in and promised to keep him far from the mental hospital if they stayed with them in their lab, deep in the icy tundra of northern Canada. As he stood inside the glass chamber the doctors' computers and instruments started to spark and the chamber was surging and radiating with a

Sadness surrounds my head Sinking my consciousness into the deep blue sea I'm cold and shivering I can't breathe The pressure is suffocating My mind is spiraling A cyclone of misery It's very hard to see The further I fall Light becomes dim The ocean holds my tears My hopes and my fears I reach for the surface Hoping I can be saved Can someone save me I'm slipping away 4/18/24

A pair of black wings Eyes that glow crimson These are the markings Of the guild's Demon A warrior unrestrained By slaughter defined His might a mere tool To an absolute end He claims destruction Of our very world Is the only way To save our souls Armor of bright silver Eyes of shining emerald These are the markings Of the guild's Valkyrie A warrior constricted By her oaths taken Her might a mere tool To mete out justice She claims that peace Between our world's people Is the only way To save our souls Two resolute souls Destined to do battle Will shape our world With their conflict Will we live or die That I cannot say In their cruel fates Lies the answer

Begone... I'm alone With darkness And despair Here forever Begone... Hear me My voice Drowned out By silence Begone... I'm scared So cold No life Only emptiness Begone... Help me A friend Can't feel No escape Begone... Begone... Begone... BEGONE FROM HERE!

"No one deserves me" I'm a complicated soul I have conflicting emotions I can't be next to you very long Your presence scatters my heart I'm alone for a reason People complicate me Eventually I push them away I don't know how to stay I'm sorry for how I am I won't apologize though You must appeal to my many faces Or I will appear as a disguise I'm not trying to hide I want to be close to you frequently But the closer you get It's almost like you're provoking my animosity I push Then I pull Only to run them off I'm not stable 4/16/24

I used to love your hot breath on the back of my neck. So thick I could write "I love you" in it. Now my dewdrop skin feels like a nuisance, and your body language reeks of indifference. How easily passion is replaced by lust. How convenient is the simple betrayal of one's trust? Relationship-based disintegration in exchange for instant gratification. Again, and again, and again. Until you have nothing left to bargain.

When I see a character sporting white gloves, Sometimes I wonder what it would be like If this character was wearing latex gloves. Is it just me? Am I the only person that ever thinks about something like that?

If you think the world is bad, Just imagine how worse things would be If monkeys had flamethrowers. Now, isn’t that a scary thought? It’s the kind of thing that will keep you up at night, Just thinking about those monkeys out there, With their flamethrowers, Burning down whatever they see. They might even wind up turning on each other. It would be a monkey flamethrower massacre. It’s a very good thing That monkeys do not have flamethrowers. The world is a much better place that way.

The hail falls from the sky down onto the earth. It can be dangerous to be caught in such a storm. One could find themself seriously injured. At the very least, being pelted with hail will probably hurt. It is best to stay indoors Or at least find a place of shelter until it all blows over. Smaller pellets of hail are not quite as bad As larger chunks of ice falling from the sky. However, it still is not pleasant to be in such a storm, So one should still make sure to keep themself safe.

A First Lady-in-Waiting for Elisabeth of Austria Jeanne arrived in front of a double door made of solid ash wood. The door was adorned with the coat of arms of Queen Elisabeth, displaying both the fleur-de-lis of France and the silver lion with forked tails from the escutcheon of Maximilian II of Austria. The countess paused for a moment to compose herself. Her conversation with the Duke of Guise had deeply unsettled her. True, the duke regarded her almost as an enemy, which she was well aware of. However, there was more to the threat he had uttered than just the pleasure of unsettling a rival. No, something was brewing at the Louvre, and neither the Countess of Mourniac nor the Count of Oustremont were invited. Jeanne gently knocked on the door, which immediately opened to reveal a woman in her forties. She was dressed in a long black surcoat concealed under a warm and lengthy ermine pelisse – rather surprising for such a warm day – which she wore like a cape with the sleeves

Jeanne of Mourniac The small coach jolted along the dirty cobblestones of the glassworks path, struggling to navigate through the bustling crowd on this hot day of August 23rd, 1572. Seated on the rear seat of the carriage, Jeanne, Countess of Mourniac, faced the Count and Countess of Oustremont. However, the attention of the young Countess of Mourniac was not directed towards her uncle William or her aunt Justine. She rather had her eyes fixed on the handheld mirror she had just purchased on the Saint-Michel Bridge, gazing at her reflection for quite some time. Jeanne was a rather tall and attractive young woman – though rather slender by the standards of the time. She was dressed in a long scarlet silk houppelande with white sleeves and fringes adorned with speckled white and tawny stoat fur. The houppelande was adorned on the front with a long pearl necklace that accentuated the shape of her chest otherwise discreetly concealed by the rigid corset she wore beneath her gown. Her

Reawakenings The North Atlantic Cold, that was the first thing she felt: unyielding, bone numbing cold. It was the same cold she had felt that night, the night when it all had ended. Now, as her senses slowly returned to her, she felt that cold again. All throughout that night it had been there. From the last time she had seen the sun, to when the dark mass loomed ahead of her, to the moment the screaming started, and finally to when everything went dark, that cold was there. Now, there was back again. Just darkness and cold. Her right side no longer hurt, but she wasn't sure if that was because she was just numb or it had been repaired. It was a comfort, however fleeting. She was, at the very least, whole again. But then a new feeling took over. A beat, strange and new, pulsed through her body. It was slow at first, and yet rhythmic. But then it began to get stronger. In no time at all, that rhythmic beat kept going. This was different from the one she felt before. That beat was

*** Warning: descriptions of violence and blood *** [Paris, France, winter of 1788: Patricia Valmont, a.k.a. "The Black Rose," has infiltrated the Parisian building occupied by Monsignor Jean Baptiste de Colbert, a powerful and corrupt Bishop from Toulon, complicit in the plot to assassinate Robespierre and Marat. Patricia has already thwarted the assassination attempt and eliminated both the hired assassins and some of the other conspirators but is determined to punish and kill all the masterminds involved. In the building, she has already silently eliminated three of the mercenary swiss guards protecting the bishop. Before facing the powerful prelate, Patricia decided to completely eliminate the threat posed by the remaining mercenaries.] Read the First Chapter HERE Read the Second Chapter HERE --- Patricia waited hidden behind the silhouette of a massive armchair in the main hall on the ground floor. Kneeling to avoid detection, she held a dagger in her hand as she

*** Warning: descriptions of violence and blood *** [France, winter 1788. Patricia, a.k.a. "The Black Rose" is targeting her next victim, monsignor Jean Baptiste de Colbert, a bishop from Toloun, one of the last conspirators - still alive - who had planned the failed ambush attack against Robespierre and Marat. She's now managed to infiltrate the Bishop's townhouse] Read the First Chapter HERE --- Patricia glanced inwards, through the french door, confirming that the terrace was at the level of a mezzanine of an internal staircase. She knelt down, drew a dagger from her boot, and began working on the latch securing the door. With some effort, Patricia managed to force open the lock without damaging the blade of the dagger. She sheathed the knife back into her boot and slowly opened the door, trying not to produce any creaking sounds. Once inside, she pushed the door panels close, leaving them slightly ajar. She didn't plan to reuse the terrace as an escape route, but she

“Come on, Lee; let me go.” Conner said his neck twisting has his big brother held in a headlock. Upon releasing him, he staggered into the gathering that his sibling had also coerced him into. “I want to go home.” In an obviously mocking tone, his brother—or, more accurately, stepbrother—said. Conner scratched his neck and thought, Vampires can be such dicks, but they could also be step-siblings in general. He knew very little about either. “Our parents want us to bond, so we’ll bond.” “Wherever you will enjoy yourself,” Conner retaliated sharply; he was a brownie, a housekeeping fae. He would only be completely content when he had his own place to look after and defend. He was only comfortable at home. “Vampires enjoy interacting with each other,” Lee mocked him once more. You could try finding someone who needs work for free, or you could stay at my dad's house until you are 100. Conner watched the blond, blue-eyed jerk flash his fangs at the closest female with a plunging

Why do we want what we can't have? That which is ever so close, yet so far away. Is it fair for me to ask of you what you morally can't? Only because I want you to stay? In this better, alternating reality, my dreams you're with me, from dusk to dawn, day after day. But when I wake up you're gone, the usual cliché. Instantly filled with regret, wishing I could just fall asleep again, in "our" bed. Dreaming, hoping, I guess it's just my way of coping. But you know, maybe if I tried hard enough, I could just let it all go and forget. And if that doesn't work, well, I'll just have to learn to live with this regret. Regret for this one and only missed chance at our Romeo and Juliet-like romance.