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Tainted White was not his favorite color. In fact, he didn't really have one. Many assumed, however, that he did, and also that that color was blue, but he didn't really hold that particular hue above any other. Really, it was just a matter of what he looked best in, both in his own mind and in the mind of the public, and he quickly found it. Blue: the spectral manifestation of calm and poise; the color of the strong, enduring sea; and the color which cooperated most harmoniously with his eyes and the eternal ring of the Phantomhivesboth a deep, regal cerulean.
So why was it, then, that white took such precedence in the gardens surrounding the Phantomhive estate? Many had asked, but no onenot even those closest to the young masterhad any idea.
During the early stages of the renovation of the mansion
Nuzlocke Emerald-Chapter 2 Professor Birch's lab was smaller than I'd thought it would be, or at least it seemed so if I didn't look up. Its high rounded ceiling gave it the illusion of size, but one only had to focus on the ground to see that this place was in desperate need of some kind of addition. There were shelves crammed with books shoved against the walls and tables piled high with papers so close to each other I wasn't sure how his assistants actually sat down. Against the back wall, in what I assumed to be Birch's "office" was the large machine I'd seen in Pokémon centers, flanked by two large tables holding books, loose-leaf paper, and one with a few pokeballs.
A few seconds after we stepped inside, Stephen leapt off my shoulder and bounded towards the machine, nearly falling underfoot of two scientists, who were too busy mumbling and staring at their clipboards to pay
[transmissions of a dead girl]i am the
moon: i am
the silver pill
to weigh down
into leaden eyes--
i am the
of the dark.
the stars are
all dead in their
you'll be safe, dear,
as i am the moon,
with all of your
(i am good bye and yet,
you think only of romantic
i am the moon.
i am the crescent
and dead altogether,
i still die.
All Here For A ReasonI turned onto a shady, well-manicured driveway that, for all intents and purposes, looked harmless enough. Maple trees lined both sides of the street, and a parade of Canadian geese marched across the road to a wide duck pond with a flamboyant fountain. There were blooming crepe myrtles and rose-of-sharons, and as I grew closer to my destination, neatly trimmed gardens with neatly trimmed bushes.
I stopped to let the geese pass. They looked at me; one hissed. I honked my horn and moved around them.
At the end of the road sat a collection of grayish buildings and a number of signs directing me to the appropriate parking lot. "Welcome to Ten Creeks Hospital," said one of them. "Please enjoy your stay." I parked in the visitor's lot. Surely I wouldn't be staying.
I was shaking when I got out of my car. I had spent the morning getting high. One foot in front of the other, flip-flop noises, hot sidewalk. Mulberry and magnolia trees, freshly shaved grass. A bench and pan for smokers. A set o
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