"Pull me up ya twat!" He said, rapidly tugging on the tug excessively, much, much more than five times."I SAID PULL ME UP TWAT!" He shouted, despite knowing not a single soul could hear his constant shouting near 200 meters down. I knew I shouldn't have trusted that rusty old geezer to actually have is head screwed on right.He said, now sitting down, trying to calm down while still constantly tugging on the rope.Just then, he felt a slight shake in the dive bell that quickly turned into a violent shaking, knocking him around all which way, giving him a deep gash in his hand as his hand quickly was pulled off the rope, causing very bloody rope burn."What the fuck is going on up there?" He said in a somewhat quiet but shaky and concerned tone. Once the shaking came to a short halt, he felt the dive bell slowly ascend as his dive bell continued to shake violently, tossing him around every which way. "Holy shit!" He said before his head bashed into the side of the dive bell, knocking him unconscious.Once his eyes opened, the dive bell had stopped shaking, but it felt unstable. Every time he made even the smallest movement, he heard an eerie creak coming from outside. He calmly stood up before he felt his oxygen slowly seep from his throat. His lungs felt empty, his throat closed, and his legs and arms immediately gave up before he fell to the floor once again. Shortly after, he felt air entering his body again, and felt his muscles and blood properly running through his body before his muscles and lungs gained control again. He stood up one more time before he opened the hatch to the dive bell, still hearing the eerie creaking, and as he stepped outside to an unfamiliar, almost rustic and decrepit metal platform, he looked up once more and saw an absolutely horrifying sight.The sight of his once bright, (of course, a bit of an exaggeration,) oil rig, now rusty and falling apart that looked like as if hell itself had come from the shadows and aged the thing five-hundred or so years, probably even more.

"What... The fuck..."

How I got the idea: I've been writing this for a few days, on and off, kind of a fantasy of how my life is going to look like (unless I'm not as stupid as the protagonist, but I'm afraid I am). Still keep in mind if there are any offensive statements, that's what he thinks, and part of the character. Don't blame me. Will probably contain violence and sex scenes later, not yet though so I might change the rating. Also there will be a lot of drinking because I like to drink. Here's your summary:

Rick's name isn't really Rick but it's the first one that came to his mind when he met Heather at the bar a few months ago after running from another failed relationship. Heather is a close friend of Sarah, and Sarah is who Rick believes to be the love of his life. But now their tumultous short-lived romance is in shambles after Rick's deepest, most well-kept secret is revealed. He is in fact a girl, or rather, a not-yet-transitioned transsexual (female to male) but refuses to admit to himself that running from himself and lying to his friends is not the right way.

After a failed attempt at picking up the shards, it's time for a new name, a new place, a new girl. But he can't run forever. His past is catching up to him. And while he's determined to make it work this time, he knows himself he can't keep starting over as many times as he wants. When it all comes crushing down on him again, he has to make a decision.

complicated relationship poem, enjoy!

Believe.

That's what Lulene has been told her entire life. But what is it that she has to believe in? Filled with confusion, depression and fear, she did what every troubled soul would. Tried to commit suicide.

But she finds her self in a facility where Disbelievers like herself are taken in to be made.. PERFECT. Even on her first day she feels the odd vibes around the place. With new friends and trouble hot on her trail, she finds herself trapped in a secret deadlier than death itself

With the first installment of the Dystopia series, we bring you, imperfection.