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Trollian Dragon: Hondra Lucefy by shainanan
Trollian Dragon: Hondra Lucefy
does anyone even get the reference

Name: Hondra Lucefy

Gender: Female

Height: 5'2

Voice Claim: Vivy (www.youtube.com/watch?v=rRrmjG…)

Blood Color: Peridot

Symbol: Yeah, that

Specibus: Gauntletkind

Lusus: Honey Chimp

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Handle: twistedPrimate -wip-

Quirk: Capitalizes the last three words or so of her sentence (i.e. you're sooo gREAT AT THIS. the sun has more cHILL THAN YOU. it appears an aPOCALYPSE IS RISING.)

Title: Theif of Rage

Quadrants: All Open

Hondra pose by: Kate-Fox
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I've read that you can be depressed and not know/feel it.

I've also read that some signs were boredom, loss of interest, lack of concentration, excessive sleepiness, irritability, and excessive crying, which I am experiencing.

I'm not as interested in anything anymore, I'm bored pretty much all the time, it's hard for me to concentrate, I'm tired yet not tired at the same time
all the time, I get seriously pissed at the drop of a hat, and I feel like crying at the slightest things. Another sign is thoughts of suicide, and, while I wouldn't
follow through with them, I do find myself thinking about how I would kill myself if I were to do it.

For example, I spend hours at a time on YouTube. I even set up a watching schedule; Jacksepticeye, Markiplier, Pewdiepie, Seananners, ChilledChaos (CriousGamers), VanossGaming, Roosterteeth, then
click random things or go off and watch other people, in that order. Lately, I find myself not interested in their videos as much as I was a few months ago, and I can't sit through
a video, I have to click around in other tabs or even exit out of the video and find a new one, and chances are I won't be able to sit through that one either.

And writing, which is something I used to love to do, has become a chore. I have all these great ideas, but as soon as I try and put them into words I lose interest. I'm currently in the process of writing
eleven different stories, the longest of which has three chapters done. It's because I just lose interest in it, even though I desperately want to see it completed.

I slept for nine hours the other day, and I still woke up tired. I sleep so much my sleeping schedule makes me practically nocturnal, but I'm always tired as soon as I open my eyes. Even if the rest
of my body isn't tired my eyes and my mind are, and sleep is always a thought, until I actually lay down to sleep, then I want to be up and running.

My friend texts me quite a few times a day. A lot of the messages are answers, and I used to be fine with answering them, but I actually muted our conversation and stopped talking to her for a night just
because I got angry at the first message. If I can't open something within two tries my first thought is to grab a hammer and smash it or throw it against something, and if I lose progress
on something, even if it's a line or a word or three seconds in a game, I get angry and end up just quitting the activity.

And sometimes, when I think of a certain person or read something even semi sad my eyes start to water and I get a tight feeling in my chest and my throat constricts. I used to never cry, I didn't even
cry at my dad's funeral, but two days ago when I was taking my dog to the vet I full on cried my eyes out.

There's only one person that I can talk to for hours straight, who can mess up a thousand times and I'd never get angry, who I'll never lose interest in or get bored with, and, for the sake of not being cheesy
I won't say her name, but she knows who she is.

I'm generally not sad, I can smile and laugh and it won't feel forced, but I think something might be wrong with me.

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My name is Charlotte Nicole Ochoa. At the time this happened I was only seven, but I'm currently going in to my first year of high school. I can still remember this day as though it happened yesterday, and I guess it did, considering I have dreams every night.

I can write a best-selling novel from my dreams. Some of them seem to be only seconds, others last a lifetime, but no matter how long they last it's the more realistic ones that make me wake up sweating and shivering at the same time. As for the short, more unrealistic ones it's like I'm watching the experience from high up in a tree, or just a flash of eyes. The one I had last week, though, is a prime example of why.

I can feel the hands on me, smell the sickly strange odor of the thing, hear that same unemotional voice. The dream starts off with a calloused hand caressing my ankle, then it traces the same four heart-stopping words up to my thigh: It's not a dream. Then, there's hands on my throat. Small, soft ones, the hands of a child. It giggles innocently in my ear as it perches on my chest, the the thing with the calloused hands spreading my legs apart at the knee, leaning over the child and pressing against me as he whispers something. I can smell the baby powder from the child, the fresh rain from my open window, the strong, dirty, cologne and sewage odor wafting from it. You're mine now, Nicole, hisses the creature, a wet and sticky tongue trailing down my jawline. I can't see anything but the inside of my eyelids, but my other senses are overloading. There's another giggle, mixed with a demonic, unemotional laughter, and my lungs burn. And then the dream ends, I wake up, my nostrils still full of the scent from my dream, gasping to get in air. My door is still locked, as is my window, which brings me a sense of relief.

But last week, last week was when it happened. I didn't wake up in time to stop the creature's fantasy. The thing taking my dream virginity wasn't what made my heart stop, though, it was the fact that he laughed as he was doing it. It wasn't the monotone, demonic laugh from the other dreams, it was filled with pure joy, ecstasy, even, as he took what he pleased, the child laughing and cheering him on all the while. When I did wake up, I immediately ran to the toilet and emptied my stomach into the bowl.

Anyway, I'm not here to tell you about dreams, I'm here to tell you about reality.

It was during the school year of 2009, February second, to be exact, and while I was reading ahead of my grade level, I was a fucking idiot- excuse my language. There was a rumor going around school about a monster called Tree Man. Yeah, I know, the name isn't all that scary but I was afraid of the Easter Bunny at the time. Tree Man isn't something you stumble upon, and it isn't a would creature, it's something that you summon, and you can't see him, only hear. So, of course, I wanted to try it out. I gathered all of my supplies; a gold cross on a chain, my favorite stuffed animal, roadkill, an unscented candle and matches, and a knife. I wasn't a squeamish kid, so I had no trouble peeling a squirrel off the pavement and tossing it in my backpack.

When I got home, I drank my dad's coffee. It was gross, but if I was supposed to stay up until twelve, which is something I have no trouble with now, I was going to need help. Everything went according to plan the rest of the day, and I was sent to bed at eight.

I lay there until 11:30, which was very hard for a child who drank half a pot of coffee, and climbed out the window, skipping into the woods in the backyard. It took about ten minutes, but I found a clearing and lay everything out; first the squirrel, then the candle on top of it, the necklace around it. Laying Mr. Snuffles on the patch of dead grass next to me, I convinced myself to cut my finger with the knife and drew a small heart were the little bear's would be if he had one. My watch, well, my dad's watch, beeped twelve, and I lit the candle, then Mr. Snuffles heart. The candle blew out, and I was about to relight it when Mr. Snuffles flew across the clearing and into the trees. Not being able to stop myself, I screamed.

"Now, Nicole- may I call you Nicole? Calm down," said a completely emotionless, monotone voice. It seemed to be coming from everywhere, I couldn't pinpoint the exact location. I felt a hand on my shoulder, and then my coat was torn from my body. "Cashmere? Hm, isn't your friend Alexandria allergic to cashmere?" I froze, standing there in the cold. Not once had I stopped to think about the consequences of this. "It's her birthday today, well technically yesterday. She's only fourteen miles away, why don't we pay her a visit?"

"No!" I screamed, trying to grab my coat from it's place seven feet above my head, which was a stupid idea. The hand I had reached up with was grabbed with the same invisible appendage that had taken my coat. It's palm was larger than my entire body, cradling me like a baby.

"Hush, Nicole." Commanded the same monotone voice. I couldn't see it, but I felt a tongue, at least as large as my twin bed, lick straight up my body, starting from the edge of my jean skirt and straight up to my hairline. He hummed, which was weird with the lack of emotion. "You taste exceptionally sweet...better than that last girl. Maria, was it?" Maria Sanchez had gone to my school since kindergarten and had disappeared three days ago. Nobody knew what happened, but I did. "I can't wait to try you on." The hand shrunk until I was hanging over on both sides, then I was held up by my tank top. I screamed again, more of a shriek, as my skirt disappeared much as my coat had, tossed on the grass. I was left hanging there in a spaghetti strap tank top, purple leggings, and bunny slippers.

At that point I was flailing, and my hand hit something. It was mushy, as though I had just punched slimy jello, and I pulled my hand away dripping pitch black ooze. I was dropped rather hardly onto my butt, a brief flicker of the Monotone Man flashed before my eyes. He looked like No-Face from Spirited Away, but with several long, long arms and legs that were made of the same ooze that stuck to my hand. I took off running, crying, and screaming all at once. My feet took me home, but my mind was stuck back there. It had to be a dream, right? But, once I woke up in the morning, there was a series of huge welts across my hand were the ooze had been.

I didn't know what he wanted back then, but ever since one month ago I knew exactly what it was. He wanted a child, and I was the one who got away. All those times he wrote It's not a dream on my leg he wasn't lying. It's been only one month since he implanted his child in me, but there's already a rather large bump protruding from my stomach. My parents yelled at me, didn't believe me when I told them that the Monotone Man was the one who knocked me up. They didn't believe me, they thought I was just another no-good whore, but they sure believe me now. I would give anything to see the look of pure terror and pain on their faces again as the Monotone Man slowly devoured them.

I'm beginning to warm up to motherhood.
The Monotone Man
This is my attempt at a creepypasta type story.

It's currently 2:40 AM and I've been writing for an hour, so excuse any grammar/spelling errors I didn't catch.
Loading...
Baes
Here you see two losers on their way to a musical
The cute one is apocaIyptica
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Lonnie you're drunk, go home by shainanan
Lonnie you're drunk, go home

DRAW YOUR CHARACTER WEARING…

  1. Underwear
  2. Casual clothes
  3. Work uniform
  4. Night clothes
  5. Swimwear
  6. Formal gala garb
  7. Lounging, lazy-time stuff
  8. A party outfit
  9. Date night threads
  10. Something outdoorsy
  11. Interview outfit
  12. Tourist/travel wear
  13. A costume!
  14. Their sick day scrubs
  15. Summer clothes
  16. Winter clothes
  17. Um, spring clothes?
  18. Why not - fall clothes!
  19. Workout wear
  20. Last minute throw-ons
  21. The most expensive thing they own
  22. A fig leaf


pose by Kate-Fox

Loading...
I've read that you can be depressed and not know/feel it.

I've also read that some signs were boredom, loss of interest, lack of concentration, excessive sleepiness, irritability, and excessive crying, which I am experiencing.

I'm not as interested in anything anymore, I'm bored pretty much all the time, it's hard for me to concentrate, I'm tired yet not tired at the same time
all the time, I get seriously pissed at the drop of a hat, and I feel like crying at the slightest things. Another sign is thoughts of suicide, and, while I wouldn't
follow through with them, I do find myself thinking about how I would kill myself if I were to do it.

For example, I spend hours at a time on YouTube. I even set up a watching schedule; Jacksepticeye, Markiplier, Pewdiepie, Seananners, ChilledChaos (CriousGamers), VanossGaming, Roosterteeth, then
click random things or go off and watch other people, in that order. Lately, I find myself not interested in their videos as much as I was a few months ago, and I can't sit through
a video, I have to click around in other tabs or even exit out of the video and find a new one, and chances are I won't be able to sit through that one either.

And writing, which is something I used to love to do, has become a chore. I have all these great ideas, but as soon as I try and put them into words I lose interest. I'm currently in the process of writing
eleven different stories, the longest of which has three chapters done. It's because I just lose interest in it, even though I desperately want to see it completed.

I slept for nine hours the other day, and I still woke up tired. I sleep so much my sleeping schedule makes me practically nocturnal, but I'm always tired as soon as I open my eyes. Even if the rest
of my body isn't tired my eyes and my mind are, and sleep is always a thought, until I actually lay down to sleep, then I want to be up and running.

My friend texts me quite a few times a day. A lot of the messages are answers, and I used to be fine with answering them, but I actually muted our conversation and stopped talking to her for a night just
because I got angry at the first message. If I can't open something within two tries my first thought is to grab a hammer and smash it or throw it against something, and if I lose progress
on something, even if it's a line or a word or three seconds in a game, I get angry and end up just quitting the activity.

And sometimes, when I think of a certain person or read something even semi sad my eyes start to water and I get a tight feeling in my chest and my throat constricts. I used to never cry, I didn't even
cry at my dad's funeral, but two days ago when I was taking my dog to the vet I full on cried my eyes out.

There's only one person that I can talk to for hours straight, who can mess up a thousand times and I'd never get angry, who I'll never lose interest in or get bored with, and, for the sake of not being cheesy
I won't say her name, but she knows who she is.

I'm generally not sad, I can smile and laugh and it won't feel forced, but I think something might be wrong with me.

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Comments


Add a Comment:
 
:iconapocaiyptica:
apocaIyptica Featured By Owner 52 minutes ago  Hobbyist Digital Artist
oKAY QUICK THING HERE;
I CAN BE THERE +/- 11:30
IS THAT OKAY W/ YOU
Reply
:iconshainanan:
shainanan Featured By Owner 34 minutes ago  Student General Artist
I WASN'T PLANNING ON GETTING UP THAT EARLY SO I THINK 12:30 OR 1 WOULD BE BETTER BUT I'LL ASK TO BE WOKEN UP AT 11
IT'S JUST I DIDN'T SLEEP LAST NIGHT SO I'M PROBABLY GONNA BE HELLA TIRED
Reply
:iconapocaiyptica:
apocaIyptica Featured By Owner 32 minutes ago  Hobbyist Digital Artist
mY MOM IS HAVING AN M.R.I AT 12 SO SHE SAID IT WOULD BE IMPOSSIBL E
SO PLS GET UP EARLIER AND GO TO SLEEP SOON !! ;v;
Reply
:iconshainanan:
shainanan Featured By Owner 25 minutes ago  Student General Artist
I'M PLANNING ON GOING TO BED IN A HALF HOUR
SO I'LL BE UP AT 11
I NEED TO TAKE A SHOWER, SO I MIGHT NOT BE ABLE TO ANSWER THE DOOR
SO JUST COME IN IF NOBODY ANSWERS WHEN YOU KNOCK
Reply
(1 Reply)
:iconplatinumbass:
PlatinumBass Featured By Owner 5 days ago  Hobbyist Artist
GUESS WHAT
Reply
:iconshainanan:
shainanan Featured By Owner 5 days ago  Student General Artist
WHAT
Reply
:iconplatinumbass:
PlatinumBass Featured By Owner 5 days ago  Hobbyist Artist
Nice day for a picnic, eh Luigi?
Reply
:iconshainanan:
shainanan Featured By Owner 5 days ago  Student General Artist
Nice of the princess to invite us over for a picnic, eh Mario?
Reply
(1 Reply)
:iconapocaiyptica:
apocaIyptica Featured By Owner Aug 21, 2015  Hobbyist Digital Artist
I THOUGHT A THING ON THE TV CALLED "LOLITA INTERSTELLAR"
WAS A LEGIT MOVIE BUT NO
IT WAS AN ADULT FILM AND I ACCIDENTALLY WATCHED IT
Reply
:iconshainanan:
shainanan Featured By Owner Aug 21, 2015  Student General Artist
oh my god
how far in did you make it tho
Reply
Add a Comment: