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The Pancake Batter Battle
The soft sound of footsteps roused George from his deep slumber, and lazily he blinked open his dark eyes to peer languidly at the source of the noise. A lazy smile tugged at his lips as the culprit, a petite, brown haired girl was caught frozen in his stare.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up," Iris whispered, breaking the silence that had engulfed the room. Carefully she climbed onto the large bed and curled up in an impossibly small ball at his side, head leaning on his bare chest.
"Don't be sorry luv," he murmured sleepily, still poisoned with grogginess. Her reassuring warmth seeped into his side and once again he had to remind himself that she was really his. After all the years of waiting on the sidelines, all the years of wiping her tears and listening to her rant about the latest asshole, she finally got it.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked softly, her words tangling in the all too familiar American accent.
"You." he answered truthfully, a playful smile on his mouth
If onlyA hooded figure swept through the bustling street, green cape flowing behind him. The shouts of merchants filled his ears as he searched intently for the perfect gift for his wife. Fabric to make a new dress perhaps?
No, Haili had enough dresses. Everything his eyes saw seemed to mundane, too common for the love of his life. No, she needed something special, something that could show her how much he loved her the way his words couldn't.
At last, something caught his eye.
It was a necklace, the chain delicate and golden. The pendant that adorned the chain was a heart, obviously hand crafted with careful and skilled fingers. The heart itself was carved out of a deep blue sapphire.
"How much?" he murmured, gesturing towards the jewelery. The merchant turned to look at the face of this potential customar, and gasped when his eyes met sharp, intelligant green ones.
"Prince Loki, I'm terribly sorry for your loss." Loss? What did he mean loss? A painful memory threatened to surface in his min
You Like Me Too Much (and I like you)
The windows of the small flat were dark, the front door locked tightly. She was out, he concluded after a few moments of watching the house for movement. Where she had gone, he wasn't sure, but he knew that it was now or never if he wanted to win her back.
John clutched the bouquet of roses tightly in one of his hands while the other slipped into his trousers pocket and jingled his house keys around nervously. If anyone of her neighbors caught him snooping around the house again, they'd call the police. It had already happened once, and he had gotten extremely lucky when he had escaped them.
Quickly as he could, John reached under the third flower pot to the right, and grasped the key that he knew would be there. He glanced behind him, paranoid that people were watching, and caught glimpse of an elderly women peering through her window at him from across the street.
"Shit." he muttered as his hands fumbled with the keys until finally he unlocked the door and fled into the darkness. The
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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