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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 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
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
Potato x Potato!Reader [Crackfic commish]
The strangest commission I've ever got.
This is some funny shit man. I have no idea.
He was utterly in love with her. It was the blossoming of a love filled romance between...
They lay together in the packet, whispering sweet nothings into eachother's ears. There were also other potatoes there, but they paid them no attention. To them.... They were alone with each other. Just the two of them.
But their situation wasnt exactly the best. What had once been a date in the fields, had somehow came to this. They were hostages. Doitsu the potato, and [Your Name], the potato, were in a grave situation. They held onto eachother like a life line, wanting nothing more than to just go home. They wished to rip out of the packet, and walk back to their field and continue their lives as normal.
But alas... Potatoes have no hands or legs.
And suddenly, the packet was ripped open. Giant fingers plunged into the bag, picking up
The Fridge3:02 a.m.
I woke up slowly and groggily, in the sort of half-dreaming way that you do sometimes. There were a few disoriented moments in the dark, as my mind sorted reality from dreams, before I knew where I was. You were asleep, curled up next to me with your arm over my midriff, your hand resting on my belly underneath the sheets, making me feel safe.
My stomach gurgled urgently, and I realised that I was incredibly hungry. I looked over at the clock and saw it was 3 a.m. I usually sleep soundly, but hunger always manages to get my attention over any kind of sleep. It wasn't as if I had gone to bed hungry. The leftover serving bowl on the side cabinet formerly full of ice cream would attest to that fact; however, my belly was unconvinced and continued to complain. Nothing else to do, I suppose, but get up.
I slowly and carefully pick your hand off my belly and move it to one side, trying not to wake you. A bit futile I suppose, it's not like I can move with much stealth these
23. Befriend Me - Jake English x Reader
It was you 17th birthday, you didn’t want to do anything with your friends this year, for one they were all busy and didn’t really have time to go. You didn’t fret though. Your parents promised you that you would get to go on a special trip, just the three of you. You arrived at the campground, the forest trees a dark shade of green, and the sky, a beautiful shade of blue, not a cloud in sight. You all set up your tents, your parents are giving you space, so the tents are spread quite far apart.
You stepped out of your finished tent and looked around, there were other families in the area as well, most with younger children than yourself. You told your parents you were going to check out the forest for a bit, they replied with their favorite line “Be Careful.” You walked slowly taking in the scenery, until you bumped into a taller looking boy.
“Ow… I’m so sorry!” You said softly.
“It’s quite alright dear.” He look
Hetalia X Reader: New Perspective
You woke up to your alarm ringing. You turn off your alarm while yawning sleepily.
Another day of work
You slowly got out of bed and begin another journey of your usual daily routine of brushing your teeth, taking a shower, eating breakfast, getting dressed for work, and so on.
You yawn while leaving your house through walking out of your front door before closing and locking it. You start walking down the pathway to your car but stop seconds later when you saw a familiar blond-haired kid riding a scooter around in front of your front yard. You frown, narrowing your eyes slightly.
Great, it’s that annoying kid again. You thought while walking towards your car, bad mood already start starting.
What’s he even doing here anyway? He’s been here every morning creating that same noise and he doesn’t even live in this neighbourhood.
After unlocking and getting in your car, you start the engine whilst eyeing the kid at the back of your c
Water Runs in My Veins I break the surface and feel the waves embrace my into their icy, yet soothing arms. Once I am completely immersed, every inch of my skin tingles. My bones seem to melt to match the temperature of the water, and my movements become fluid. I deftly plunge deeper, feeling both the cold and the warmth rush past me with every stroke. The pulse of the ocean beats against my skin; it is alive. I open my eyes to take in the scene. I can't see clearly, the images are blurred. Still, I can make out soft hues of color. I reach out and feel the hard, smooth surface of a rock, resting amongst others. I feel a rigid plant, and my hand even grazes the backs of a couple of slimy fish. With each connection made by my senses, I feel a rush of adrenaline. I am truly unlimited when I'm under the sea; my fears have been washed away by the white waves.
Growing excited, I continue to venture deeper into the dark depths. Soon, I feel wisps of seaweed brush up against me, tickling
DreamcatcherThe dreamcatcher, a catcher of nightmares and symbol of good nights. You can find them anywhere if you look hard enough. Most people do not believe in their power. But, one child chose to believe. A young boy, suffering from nightmares. The child wandered into a shop one day and found one. A pale dreamcatcher with pale blue feathers and beads. The boy was delighted to see what he called 'the most beautiful thing in the world'. He picked it up and took it to the counter. The cashier, a friendly looking elderly gentleman gave a soft sigh and a smile.
"Son, are you sure you want this one? I think it would be best if you chose a different one."
"No, sir. I really want this one!" The boy smiled cheerily. The old man stared for a bit, then nodded. He rang up the catcher and gave it to the boy, who took it, thanked him, and ran out. The man sighed.
"That thing never seems to be sold for long..."
The boy ran to his house, a worn-down looking place in the middle of town.
"Mommy! I'm home!" He c
Time Traveling Kids of the Mane Six! Ch. 32
Chapter 32: Rodeo and Juliet (part II)
“Why are the paparazzi in Ponyville? There ain’t nothin’ in Ponyville that’s worth a media circus like this!” Bismack said as the train began to slow down at the station, as if trying not to hit the crowds of photographers that stood everywhere.
Radiance readied her hair a bit.
"They’re not here for the town,” she answered. “They’re here for us.”
“Us? What fer?”
“I’m not sure. All I know is that whatever the reason is, we need to just push past them as quick as we can. Don’t greet them, don’t shove them, don’t make eye contact, and most importantly, do not stop walking. If you do, they’ll never let you go. Before you know it, they’ll start asking you how many seconds you brush your teeth.”
As the train came to a complete stop, Radiance cleared her throat and stood up.
“How do you know that?” Bismarck asked, fo
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."
Genghis Whenever we were bad my mother used to take us to the mall to see Genghis Kahn. They kept him in a dusty diorama of a Mongolian steppe, all tall grass and yurts. He sat on a throne of bone (well, plastic shaped like bone), scowling in incomprehension at the American kids who flocked around him like startled lemmings. My mother would usually push us toward him, saying things like “Tell him what you did to your father’s stamp collection.” Genghis would give a grunt, spit a wad of phlegm onto the tall grass, and give us a wizened, wrinkled grimace, as if he had to go to the bathroom.
He terrified me.
My brother couldn’t get enough of him.
When my brother got caught in my mother’s evening dress, my mother grabbed us both and dragged us to Genghis. It was a slow day, and we were the only kids crowding him. “Tell him what you did,” my mother hissed a
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More