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Your Still Mine (Marshal's POV)
I sipped my vodka as I sat at the lone table on the west side of the ballroom. I am at a wedding for my frenemy, Bubba 'Gumball' Gillion. I'm just here to see the ugly faggot who married this loser. If you didn't know I am just here to perform a song or two, but I feel too drunk to even do that. I mess with my ivory locks of hair and unbutton my suit. I should be dancing, I know I should be doing something other than sitting on my ass. Women have came up to me so many times today it wasn't even funny, they were flirting and being down right stupid. "Marshal Lee please report to the stage" ugh that's my que, ha you know what's funny about this, I don't even know what song I'm gonna sing, ha. I gallantly walked up to the stage, taking in my surroundings, oh I am gonna laugh when I see that ugly mother fucking bri- "Miss Fionna
No ones POV
*ring,ring* Fionna slammed her fist down on the alarm clock. She rose from her slumber and speeded down the stairs at the smell of bacon pancakes. "Hey Cattie! You makin bacon pancakes!" Fionna reached towards her sisters stacks of pancakes. her sister slapped her hand and fionna retreated. "Hey... what was that for!" Cattie's dark tan face looked at Fionna. "You need to get changed. your clothes are on the couch so you need to get changed. its your first day of school!" fionna sighed and walked into the living room. she saw a black miny skirt and a grey long sleeve button down shirt, with leggings and mary jane shoes. Well, i guess if i want pancakes i will have to get changed, fionna thought. she ran up stairs and quickly got changed. she walked down quickly and cattie gawked at fionna's apperance. "You look beautiful!" Cattie yelled fionna giggled "Now can i have some pancakes!" fi
Her CatalystAs she walks through the maelstrom, the words trace upon the tips of her fingers and press into the stone. Every brick, every crack in the concrete, every crossed and angular stroke in reds and blacks and oranges. The drips of the gasoline pool around the base of her boots, slosh as she steps over the burst pipes and the rubble.
So much rubble. So little outcry. The silence of the city grates on her eardrums and the mantras she'd been forced to memorize. The Seers demanded they observe thirteen years of recitation before they attempt to weave their first World together.
But who other than the Seers can claim the incantations that knot the skeins they twist and pull on like reins hold fast? When have any of the Sisters recorded the visions they traced upon space-time and recited them, left them open for critique and discussion and debate?
Which is why she walks through the chalky soot of the smashed city around her. This all
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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