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NightOne can hear the whisper of the night
A subtle sound
A guiding light
The deer’s paws as they hit the ground
Rustling leaves respond from all around
A call of nature
It expresses no danger
One can see the painting of the night
The dotted stars
The moonlight’s bright
A simple canvas, no planes, trains, or cars
Illuminating the reach of nature’s might
In the sky there’s the distant Mars
A wondrous nightscape
Not a wound or scrape
One can hear the desecration of the night
A deafening sound
The animal’s fright
Motors screech and trees are downed
One can see the destruction of the night
No one sees destruction from afar
Now no one knows the beauty of the night
Can and OughtDoes ought imply can? Does can imply ought? Well, let's look at it from an English standpoint. When someone ought to do something, they are morally obliged to. When someone can do something, it means that they are physically capable of doing something. The two words ought and can obviously have different meanings.
Can someone commit murder? Yes. Is someone ought to? Generally, no. But that depends on the system of morals used. If one follows Hammurabi's code, if the victim commits murder, it is justified under the eye for an eye principle. If one follows Christianity, then they ought not to. If according to Mark, Lisa ought to do something that is within her physical bounds, but according to Jared, she ought not do it, does ought imply can? To Mark, can implies ought, but for Jared, can implies ought not. So, does can imply ought? It depends on the circumstances.
Say a deadly and incurable disease is killing off the human population. According to a humanitarian, someone ought to develo
2020The year was 2020 and Ray knew his type of folk almost were nonexistent. Their views were deemed as obsolete and part of the Old Way. Unable to communicate in the now common dialect of English, containing very little variety in vocabulary except for the originality of the obscenities used between every other word, his kind was generally looked down upon, shunned, or worse.
This kind, once looked upon as the upper class of an educated society, has now been cast off as nonconformists. As opposed to the newer generations who seldom read except for the closed captioning on televisions, these people knew and honored the classics. They knew a Beethoven piece from a Mozart, a Da Vinci from a Michelangelo, and a piano from an organ. Sure, they viewed movies and television shows, only not as much as a New Way person. The Archaics, as they were called by the members of the new society, or Currents, lived a life that they viewed as higher quality; in that they still had the p
The Poor Man's BurdenGive away the Poor Man's Burden
For avarice is a sin
If life's a race to heaven,
Then you're letting others win
Give away the Poor Man's Burden
It's a fair trade for what they own
When you end up more than six feet under
You'll take up a different tone
Give away the Poor Man's Burden
Making them pure will do the trick
But you will discover later
Who really got the short end of the stick
Give away the Poor Man's Burden
It's a good use of your time
Their vaults for you to steal
You're not the only one who's one committing that crime
VainMarty was a vain man. He grew up on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. He still lives there now. His parents owned a prospering law firm and made a lot of money. His parents passed their entrepreneurial prowess to him and it shows. He is the Chief Executive Officer of his own health care company. Obviously, he has always lived the material life.
One day, as Marty got out of his limousine right in front of his office, his empty coffee cup in hand, he noticed a young girl, about 18 years old. She had mousy brown hair and hazel eyes with a green tint. She held a bucket in one hand and a sign in the other. The sign read "Millions of people die from cancer each year. You can help."
"Please sir, help find a cure." She begged as he walked by. He just chuckled and dropped his empty coffee cup in hand. The girl's hopeful smile faded and was replaced by a frown. He walked into the building as if nothing had happened.
Marty spent the rest of the day doing dull paperwork and checking up on his empl
The TripTy had an ordinary life. He had normal hopes, normal friends, and normal parents. However, once a year, his dad took a mysterious trip to who knows where. Whenever he asked his dad about the trip, his father would jump into a soliloquy about personal sanity. Ty would always think that his dad, a renowned philosopher and author, was just having an idea about his next book. This pattern would repeat for a few years until Ty was thirteen.
One summer morning, Ty was awoken by an incessant repetition of his name. "Ty, Ty, wake up!" The voice sounded familiar, so he woke up to find his dad by his bedside dressed in an unusual assortment of clothes. A pair of hiking boots, a netted hat, and a tan vest was being sported by the man who considered going to the diner a black tie formal event. "Ty, I need you to get dressed in outdoor clothes and get ready to go on a journey," his father instructed.
"Wait, what? Why? Where are we going?" Ty inquisitively replied.
"You will see when we get there."
Impaled By One's Own SwordIf a dead corpse could show emotion, Todd's would show shock. He knew that Jasmine's father despised him, but he had no idea how much. He forced his spirit to move; to view the grotesque scene that was his house. Tables overturned, glass broken, a bloodstained carpet. Worst of all, his remains looked disgusting. The dried blood all over him lead to his chest. He saw a crescent blade with a ruby hilt the color of his blood.
Todd, furious used all of his ghostly willpower to go on a long trek. Of course, he did not notice the passing time as a ghostly essence. At last, he arrived at his destination during what looked like the dead of night. There, he passed a room where he knew quite well. The handcrafted sign on the door said Jasmine. He lingered there for a moment to remember the times he had with her. He slowly crept up into the room next door. There, he saw a man, obviously asleep.
La Noche TristeI never thought that it would come to this. My soldiers, my friends, are all dead. They were killed by the Aztec savages and their satanic deities. It should have been me. For I, Hernán Cortes, the leader, the oppressor, the conquistador, have been the real mastermind behind this terrible ordeal. We obtained gold, but at what price? This sad night, this noche triste, will live in infamy forever. But how did it happen? I have to think back to the events of the day.
After a week of debate, my advisors and I had decided to leave the city of Tenochtitlan due to civil unrest. We planned to begin our journey when the city was asleep; carrying all of our gold and what we brought with us. From there, we would swim across the canals and reach safety. If only we knew what would be waiting for us.
We spent the rest of the day preparing and briefing the soldiers for the escapade.
Finally, the moment of truth had arrived. We assumed that the Aztecs were asleep because there were no people on t
Brutal HonestyLeon constantly contemplated what his life would be like if he had never lied. Would he be sitting in this small jail cell that has been his "home" for the past month? Would he have never been charged with obstruction of justice and been sentenced for two months in prison? Would he be on good terms with the bureaucrats at the district attorney's office? He tried not to dwell on what could have been; but he just could not help himself. Leon can still remember every detail of why he went to prison.
As a young boy, Leon Smitherson was not a genius or a fool. He was average except in one area of his life. He often had a knack for trouble. He never went to look for it, for his father, a prominent fine arts enthusiast, would often coin expressions. "We would be fools if we thought that we had to search for mischief" was one of his father's favorites. Instead, trouble usually found its way to Leon. When havoc occurred, Leon would cover it up with lies, lies, and more lies.
When he was in Kind
Canada X Reader Maple Cookies Prize
Canada X Reader Maple Cookies
Mattie or Matthew turned to see a girl with (hair/length) (hair/color) hair and (eye/color) eye running toward him. He waited for her to get to him and catch her breath. When she did she smiled at him.
“I did it” she says holding up a paper
“Did what (Name)?” he asks
“I signed up for the food fair and got the country I wanted” (Name) answers
“Cool, which country did you chose?” he asks curiously
“Canada” she says simply
Matthews’s cheeks turn pink.
“What are you going to make?” he asks
“I have a bunch of maple flavored recipes I’m going to make and I have already started the info poster”
“I can help you if you want”
“No thanks, I want it to be a surprise”
(Name) winks at him the strolls away. After that Matthew barely saw (Name). She would wave at him, they would talk for a bit then she would leave and whenever he as
Scooby Doo and Shaggy VS Animatronics: Battle
The Mystery Machine was driving down a bleak road in the middle of the forest. Shaggy and Scooby had to do all of the Mystery Solving, since the rest of the gang was on a vacation. They were looking for a rest stop, or, at least, a place to eat. Scooby had eaten all of their food for the trip.
"Jeez, Scoob, why do I have a feeling this might be more difficult without Fred, Daphine, and Velma?"
"Raggy, look, a sign!"
The sign spoke of an exit, about half a mile away. Shaggy stopped for a minute and examined the sign.
"On exit five, turn left, and you will find a small town, home of Freddy Fazbear's pizzerea. This famed Pizza restaurant makes some of the best Pizza 'round. Though make sure to leave by closing, as the restaurant is not responsible for any dismemberment and mutilation."
Scooby ran up to the window closest to Shaggy.
"Rid you say Pizza?"
"Yeah, Scoob! Let's go there, and besides, I wasn't paying attention at that last part anyways!"
Shaggy leapt into the front seat, and sta
A Letter from your SongsAnother oldie... Not a poem this time, but a letter written to song artist Stevie Nicks, (who has been a favorite of mine and a big inspiration to me for a very long time...since my teen years).
The letter is written to her using her songs. (which are shown in bold)
Has anyone ever written anything for you?
I have, and I'd like to take this opportunity to thank you for: The beginning of The dance. For being there at the Edge of seventeen of my life. For showing me the sparkling beauty of the Silver spring. For the contrast of Leather and lace . For introducing me to Sarah. For embracing the world within your Dreams . For knowing your Destiny : and being the Kind of woman that you are; giving, Unconditional love. Even though Outside the rain wreaked
ShipsDo you know why its a bad idea for ships to travel side by side over the sea?
They sat side by side, husband and wife, not touching. She sat perched on the edge of the sofa, as though she was scared to come into contact with anything solid. He, on the other hand, lay so far back that he was almost flat, as though hoped that the cushions would swallow him. He was wrapped in a blanket (he was always cold these days) whereas she just looked cold. Not as if she was cold, but as if she radiated it, as though it was some sort of negative heat. Neither of them looked at each other. They both acted as though the TV was their entire world.
The motion of the waves acts on the outer edge of each of the two ships.
"Do you still love me?" she said suddenly. He didn't reply. This wasn't particularly surprising, as she had been dead for a year now. She sighed, and he wriggled deeper under his blanket.
But the really interesting part is that each of the ships acts as a natural shield
Wizards in Training (TG) (Request)(WARNING: This story contains descriptions of a man turning into a woman. If this puts you off, feel free to pass this up.)
The Pogona Institution for the Magically Inclined; call it your real-world Hogwarts equivalent if you will. This was a prestigious college, located in far off in the Canadian wilderness, surrounded by lush forests and mirror-like lakes, beyond which the snow-covered mountains rise to dominate the skyline. The college itself was not unlike your modern campus grounds, only it featured more of an elegant decor than most other public educational establishments. Despite the absolutely beautiful view, this school was particularly private, and only those who prove themselves to be truly capable of wielding arcane forces are allowed to enter. This process is full of all sorts of challenges and troubles, but some people manage to make it in by the skin of their neck. Two such people are new students Aaron and Bennett, who had just enrolled a week ago.
America x reader: late night grocery shoppingI do not own hetalia or you~
15 years old, you are England's child
I felt my arm being shaken. "Hey...hey (name)...wake up!" I heard an American voice whisper. I opened my eyes slightly. "Alfie what time is it...and how did you get into England's house?" I groaned. "I picked the lock...come with me to the grocery store!" He said. I leaned up. "Okay...why?" I asked lazily throwing my feet over the bedside. "Because I ran out of coke and I need more but I don't wanna go alone." He said. I nodded as I tugged on a hoodie and held my arms up. "Carry me." I said. Alfred laughed and let me hop onto his back. I laid my head on his shoulder and watched everything move by me. Soon we got to the car and he put me in the passenger seat.
We drove quickly to the grocery store, however I didn't get to be carried because an angry woman yelled at us when we walked in with me on his back. So Alfred got a cart and let me sit in it. "Dang...someone needs a happy meal." Alfred said in a snappy t
Rentals"And that's how I ended up on this shelf!" I made sure to say with a smile on my face. The man across from me just tilted his head in confusion. "Is something still wrong? I thought I did a pretty good job at explaining why my head is here."
"Yeah, but..." he said while crossing his arms. He seemed to be at a loss for words. "Okay, I get that you're only being rented out and not actually for sale. But why are you actually.. ya know.. on?"
"What?" It took me a second to realize what he meant. But I got it. "Oh! Well that's easy. Since I volunteered for this, I'm left on so I can let people know why my head isn't for sale. I uh, hold on." I needed to blow my hair out of my face, since my hands were else where in the store. I wasn't getting much done, but thankfully the customer brushed my black hair behind my ear and out of my hair. "Thank you! Now where was I? Oh right. Normally there are a lot more rental heads out on display, but we are near closing time and I seem to be the last one
Barefoot Benefits 6It was a pleasantly hot summer day. Sally was in her backyard role-playing with her pokémon while Amanda and Brenda watched from foldable chairs.
“The brave heroes had finally made it to the giantess’s lair. As they rushed forward, the loud thuds of the giantess’ footsteps could be heard and grew louder and louder. The heroes skidded to a halt as the giantess walked forward into sight, eyeing them angrily with her club gripped tightly and her pet sitting upon her shoulders,” narrated Sally as she, Growlithe, and Lillipup each played their parts and Treecko rode on Sally’s shoulders.
“Growlithe growl, growlithe!” shouted Growlithe.
“Pup!” shouted Lillipup.
“Never! Your princess shall be my slave for eternity! Begone or be crushed!” said Sally.
“Treecko tree!” said Treecko with a nod.
Growlithe and Lillipup replied by growling angrily and standing ready to fight.
“So be it!” shouted Sally befor
The Bowie Knife "What are you going to do, kill me? I'd like to see you try, Thomas!" Spat a bald man, obviously toughened up judging by the scar on his face that went with his bald scalp.
"That is my intent, Joseph!" Thomas sneered back with equal ferocity.
"Okay." Joseph put his hand behind his back and pulled out a pistol. "This should be interesting to watch. You don't even have a gun, only a silly little knife."
"This silly little knife has killed more people than you can imagine. It represents more than you and your pathetic gun can ever comprehend."
"Fine. Enlighten me. Show me the glory of your old decrepit Bowie Knife." Joseph challenged.
"This knife represents courage." Thomas explained as he was transported to twenty years earlier. He remembered meeting the abusive husband of the woman h
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More