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A Chef Stole My Heart USUKThis is a story about how America comes to work for England who has somehow become a chef. Slowly, they start to care for each other and eventually become romantically involved. Please critique and enjoy!
Alfred turned, wiping the sweat off of his forehead. A blonde man shorter than himself was searing some salmon in a pan. He wore a very sevre expression. "Uh, one sec," Alfred called as he tried to set down some of the dirty dishes in his arms.
"Blast it- Hurry your slow ass up!" The man yelled furiously, his large eyebrows creased in a stressful expression.
Alfred scowled and dropped the dishes sloppily in a large sink. They splashed water on the floor but no one seemed to notice. He looked around feeling paranoid and not wanting to be yelled at. Again. I'm going as fast as I can damn it... He thought as he rushed his way past the many counters of the large kitchen.
All the cooks were in their checkered pants, moving around so fast it seemed hard
I’VE REALIZED THAT I HAVEN’T POSTED ANYTHING HERE IN A WHILE….
This is something I’ve been working on! A Goto Dakimakura to pair with the Masayoshi daki I did for AX! I’m far from finished, but I’m thinking of putting it up for preorder so that when I stock, I’ll have the appropriate amount accordingly. :>
I will be restocking on the Masayoshi Daki also, and all of these orders will be filled in about 3 weeks. The finalized image for the Goto pillow should be up by Friday!
IowaIf you visit Iowa,
you'll call her fields empty,
but she wasn't born that way.
A part of her was carved out
when she was ripped between Virginia
and the purple mountains of New Mexico.
Her gold hair, she tore it out when she realized
it didn't make her a princess.
She laid her locks strung along every road
leading somewhere else.
White hairs on her cheeks
are scars from winter.
Her hair darkens with the dampness
of summer rains.
The storms are never silent,
but neither is life when there's a tear
in your childhood where
a parent ought to be.
I've been flooded by Iowa's sorrow.
The only way I can distract her from her own voided landscape
is if I hate myself harder than she cries.
She just wants to fly
and I want to bus or train,
not because I fear death, but because
I want to take living slow.
It's the only way I ever feel.
From the air it's hard to watch Earth's hips move.
But Earth can't compare to the country.
That's my girl.
Full grown even when harvesting season's j
To depression, for creating days without endWake up to the realization that you've been awake
for seconds, minutes, hours.
You've been awake in this warm, dark room
and you don't know how long it's been
but now you're conscious
and it starts again--
the pain, strong and steady, in your chest.
You gain consciousness in this too warm morning
and your thoughts whir in endless loops
because it's either that or face the weight in your chest.
Light breaks though the window, soft and unwelcome
but you take it as a reluctant gift--
a new distraction from the feelings awake in your chest.
Awake, but not conscious.
So you think yourself in circles a little while longer
waiting for those quiet pains
(the constant reminder)
to gain consciousness.
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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