

The Art of War WIPA noble art. An endless cycle. Good and bad, no chance for grey areas in between the absolute truths that establish who is the victor and who is not. A decisive answer, a solution built upon the bloodied fields left behind. This is the art of war. Valiant men marching off to battle, emblazoned with the symbol of their faith, to die by that same symbol with the bitter realization that there is no hope. Faith is a lie fed to the masses to convince them of the truth of their perversion. Anyone who says war is not a perversion of the human psyche had not sat among his fellows under skies that rained red with the blood spent for a cause they don'tThe Art of War WIP


Diary of a demon WIPI was seven the year the revolts started. Seven the year I watched my mother die by my father's hands. Seven the year I met him. Some say I changed that year, I don't think they ever knew me before then. Nothing changed. The life I had lived up until then was a lie, the public belief a mockery of the miserable existence I had locked away from the world. Maybe I went a little crazy. Maybe the world ended and I didn't realize it, waking up just in time to watch it be reborn into flames and hatred, my own awoken in my heart like a black poison that ate away at me like so much acid.Diary of a demon WIP
He let me off my leash, starved for affection and a
Flower II
Flower I
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"and Jesus bought a Jess. And he smiled" untill Mary found out and then all hell broke lose! (but she forgave them once Jess let her steal Erikka's platforms)
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I think I love you.
Where's my Izze?
\m/o.o\m/
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Keep up the
--
Keep up the
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::you can't hide forever::
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I think I love you.
Where's my Izze?
\m/o.o\m/
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