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100 Themes - 13. Misfortune
100 Themes Misfortune
He didnt believe in this thing called misfortune. There were many things, which people would call misfortune, but Reid believed that everything, which seemed misfortunate, had a hidden happy meaning in it. Everything happened for a reason a good reason, people were killed for a reason. He may not be able to see the reason for that yet, but he was sure that one-day, one day. He would know why there were killers who enjoyed killing others; he would know why people lay down their lives to help someone else someone like him.
He found out the reasons behind: why Morgan never talked about his life, why Gideon was found dead seven states away, why Elle had gone and killed that man, why Prentiss started having flings with every man she saw at the bar, why Garcia was shot and why Rossi had insisted on coming back to the BAU. He finally began to know that there was misfortune in the world he lived in.
But until he could find
100 Themes - 12. Insanity
100 Themes Insanity
Sometimes Hotch wonders what was the difference between being sane and insane, and where was the line drawn? Sometimes Hotch thinks that he can feel himself going mad, he thinks that he can feel the killers hiding in the shadows of his house, he thinks that he can feel the curse being placed upon him.
Sometimes, Reid wonders that if he was afraid of his mind perhaps the monsters and ghosts inside of him wouldnt win. Sometimes Reid thinks that he can hear himself going mad, he thinks that he can hear the footsteps of the killers, he thinks that he can hear the voices of the ghosts screaming to be let out.
Sometimes, Morgan wonders that if he pretended that there were no monsters and ghosts inside him, they would go away. Sometimes Morgan this that he can taste himself going mad, he thinks that he can taste the victims blood on his lips, he thinks that he can taste the wrath of the killers in the air.
Sometimes, Prentiss wonders what woul
100 Themes - 11. Memory
100 Themes Memory
Reid hated his ability to memorize. Reid loved his ability to memorize. He had a sort of hate-love relationship with his mind. The sort that never seemed to make sense.
Eidetic memory, is the ability to recall images, sounds, or objects in memory with extreme accuracy and in abundant volume. The word eidetic means related to extraordinarily detailed and vivid recall of visual images, and comes from the Greek word eidos, which means "form". Eidetic memory can have a very different meaning for memory experts who use the picture elicitation method to detect it. Eidetic memory as observed in children is typified by the ability of an individual to study an image for approximately 30 seconds, and maintain a nearly perfect photographic memory of that image for a short time once it has been removedindeed such eidetikers claim to "see" the image on the blank canvas as vividly and in as perfect detail as if it were still there. Reid murmured to himself.
Coronation by LoneWolf-5I. Introduction
It was still hard for him to fully grasp everything that was going on around him. The days had all melded together after he was told of Uncles death about a week ago.
He had woken up amongst the bales of hay and after brushing and picking off as many clinging pieces as he could, he had gone to wake up Uncle. Except Uncle didnt wake, he just lay there, cold and motionless. It was then that the dark notion began to spread across his mind but he shoved it back, because it couldnt be true. He dashed out of the stables and glanced about frantically. Someone would know how to wake Uncle up because Uncle wasnt broken. He couldnt be. Sure, the older had been sickly as of late but the life in him hadnt seemed to weaken at all, never once relenting in his teachings to the young heir. Yet, deep down, he knew that was not completely true. Ever so slowly, Uncles complexion had waned, his movements had slowed, and
Lace by bookbutterfly Lace
Lace is a feminine tradition.
Little girls in Easter bows,
shrieking, running, yelling,
as they trip over boys in suits,
searching for magical eggs.
Demure young women,
shaking with just a little nerve,
raising their pinkies and tea cups,
taking luncheon on the veranda.
The young blushing bride -
as the satin covers her,
she fingers the pattern
at the edge of the neckline.
Busy wives, bustling around,
trying to please their hardworking husbands,
scramble to get ready,
waiting impatiently for the babysitter.
Classy older ladies
in their vintage modern,
as they move in high society,
and spill nothing on themselves.
Grandma in her Sunday best,
looks like she's just sleeping,
as her young granddaughters
peer at her in the church.
Exclusively the female touch,
just that little extra so
.Introduction.I couldn't decipher who threw the first punch; it was too dark, the faces were hidden. It was probably that short bitch, or the guy with all the tattoos. All I knew was one minute I was standing in front of a developing, frightening crowd, and the next, I was on the ground, coughing and trying to catch my breath and shove it back into my lungs. I was cornered, backed in between a chain-link fence and a solid concrete wall. The first blow was fast, but the pain made the aftershock like a small eternity as my body doubled over and arms instinctively clutched against my stomach to protect it, like I was holding my guts in.
I wanted this; This was the life I was looking forward to. I would be an urban warrior, a defender of what was my new families and mine; a family I would be officially apart of if I survived tonight. No, not 'if', when I survive tonight.
The blows came faster and faster, harder, more at a time. I couldn't differentiate punches from kicks after awhile, the pain was just
Blue Eyes in FlamesWhen the prince sees the flower bloom from the palm of her hand, he orders her arrest.
She is only seven years old.
He takes the flower from her and keeps it, even though he knows he shouldn't. He puts it a vase, or, rather, his servant does that for him. The flower doesn't ever die, even years later.
It's dawn of a December morning, and he's cold. But still, he stands next to his father dutifully and looks at the little girl with blue eyes that are now black from seven nights sleeping on a cold, dungeon floor behind bars. They cut off her dark brown hair during that time. She's tied to the pyre, and there are seven guards around her, holding sharper swords than normal, not that she could get away. There's one man dressed in black holding an unlit torch, with a mask over his face to prevent his death. His father raises his arm, and the torch is lit.
She locks her gaze to his, and he blinks at her. It's like she expects him to prevent it. He couldn't, though, he can't. She scares him, w
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More