The Circus - 1Swaggering in as if he owned the place, he marched up to the desk. The large, putrid man behind the desk flinched as a set of seven cards were flung onto the desk. The cards all slid into a perfect row, all facing down, all length-ways, standing tall like soldiers. The worn and frayed faces of the cards glared up menacingly at the flabby face before them. The cocky bastard who threw the cards there, then threw himself into the couch at the side of the office, propping his feet upon the provided pouf. He picked at his nails impatiently, flicking what he procured all over the expensive, red leather sofa. He had a talent of making a placeThe Circus - 1
ReunitedHis name was Benjamin, or just Ben. He lay there, asleep. He had it all, park bench, warm trench coat, woolly hat. He didn’t even stop when it came to his socks either: Both feet covered by multiple layers of tattered socks. His trusted backpack lay underneath his head, acting the part of pillow as he dreamt of his much deserved soft bed. Ben was a good man, and he was a homeless man. His current state was planned. Not his lack of worldly possessions, but the location and position in which he now slept: A public park bench, his neck balanced and supported by the backpack, leaving his head to loll over the edge. A passer by woReunited
Cross BladesA single insignificant drop of liquid slid the length of a blade. Pausing at the tip, suspended. The ragged breath; weakened bodies… The pressure builds. The spying drip surveys the scene, senses the power. Elastic tension; fabrications bending, stretched to suit those with the will to bend those fabrications. Snapping point. The Drip falls, the blades slide. Shredding the air, grating past each other, paths intertwining, two blades reduced to servants; little more than puppets or shields in the raging battle.Cross Blades
The thunder continues to rage. The ends of men come and go like arrow from bow, letting their souls fly free whilst the bo
Food FightsBrand new. Never before seen. It’s going to be a dozy, I can tell already. In fact, I’m not even sure if our systems can handle it; like I said: it’s new; and a dozy. Or at least it looks like a dozy: There’s variation, there has been much speculation as to what it is actually like, very little agreement from reports upon what to expect. Normally I wouldn’t agree to something like this: a head on assault was never my style and never usually works. Never the less, “outside influences” have dictated that this is the best course of action...In their defence; they have no idea what they’re dealing with. UnfFood Fights
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Maturity is the ability to know when immaturity is acceptable.
I do hope you like deviantart and you didn't just get it because i made you.
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When I am old I will wear purple...
no, i was curious about this and all that jazz, not simple because you made me.
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