Trade MistakesOh god.
I roll my eyes. It's my friend. I know she means well, but it's annoying when people care too much sometimes.
"You need a job."
There is one problem with her suggestion. I already have a job. It's from when I wake up to when I fall asleep and it's called feeling sorry for myself. Yeah, it's a pretty demanding job. The hours are shit and so is the pay, but I am part of a million people strong network. Some people do it part time, others full time.
I work full time.
"I'll get one," I tell them. They mean well and I love them dearly, really. I mean if i loved myself as much as I loved them I would be the most concieted person on the planet. I love them that much. Maybe my love for them will pull me out of this rut and I ckinda hope it does.
Actually I'm kinda relying on that love.
Full time, kinda like my job. I think I mostly depend on their love though. When I really think about it. I need their appraisal. I need their smiles. I need the way they say 'it's ok
Anna MollySometimes I want to believe I'm different.
I brush shoulders with some girls from my school and they scoff. Did she just touch me? They're disgusted. Why? Why are they disgusted? I have the same anatomy as them. I just look different. They all look the same, like manufactured barbies that try too hard.
And physically I am.
I make my way past the different cliques and I wonder: how exactly do they look at me? Do they look at me like the barbies do? I can hear my feet, like a metronome. Clack, clack, clack. Or rather squeak, squeak, squeak because I'm wearing some worn out boots and the floor is wet.
I have never been a part of them. The cliques. I've always been alone. Yeah, I guess alone is a good word for it. I perfer self isolation. I think I gave up on humanity somewhere along the line. People were so selfish and so was I. I wanted to much more. I wanted to be different.
I was. Just not in the way I wanted to be.
I cross my arms like I'm holding up a shield because I'm starti
With A BangI don't think I'd ever meet anyone quite like her if she'd died that night.
She's sketching. I'm looking over her schoulder because I'm curious. I'm always curious when she'd doing something. It's always something incredible and fantastic and beautiful. She doubts these words when she hears them.
She's using red now. It's not bright red, or brick red, which is this weird orange-red that's just bullshit, it's this pretty scarlet red. Whatever she's drawing must be bleeding or blossoming and quite frankly it looks like both.
She's dyed her hair again. It's the same color as the crayola she's using. Her red hair goes in every which direction. It bobs with the way she moves and it expresses her firey soul which is quickly burning out. It's smoldering and I'm kind trying to bring it back to life, but it's hard.
I don't know if I can save her.
I really hope I can because it's such bullshit that someone who use to shine as bright as her is still so blinding as she's goin' out.
Let. Me. In.I put your work in my folder called home, because that's where you belong; in my heart, inside my home.
I think I found her"Who are you?"
It was a question uttered out loud in a disbelieving voice and it was a good question. Who was I? Why am I here? Who had I been? My eyes fell from her's and I kept asking myself. Was there an answer? A true answer? Not one of those cracker box answers that only gave a boring description. I couldn't give her one that was exciting either because I knew that was a lie.
"I don't know," I finally answered as I lift my gaze to see her. She looks familiar. Maybe I knew her once? She smiles at me for a brief moment and we look away. "You gonna be okay?" she asks, after a moment of hestitance of course.
"Yeah, I think so."
We share that mutual smile and I wipe at the mirror. "Good pep talk," I tell myself and she smiles again. I had lost her in a bottle of something bad. "Talk to you later?" She gives a slight bouncy nod like she's expecting me later and I smile to myself.
"I think I found her."
Game of WarI watch as the little boys play war in the front lawn of my friend's lavish summer home. Their mock sounds of pain set me on edge. A violent clash of toys imitate bombs and send the players sprawling a mere inch back, fingers and toes still intact.
Slowly I watch the little soliders seperate. The boys of today find their enemies of tommorrow in an almost indiscriminate way. "You're the bad guy!" August's boy proclaims and Martin's boy shoots back, "Why do I gotta be the bad guy!"
"Because you're the bad guy! Stop being such a baby!"
Their game is black and white. Bad is bad. Good is good. There is no detailing or shade of grey. No space for doubt in the war they play a part of. I scoff for war is no game. I can leave my home a hero possibly today and find myself to be my own enemy tommorrow for every bullet chamber I emptied into some unfortunate man's chest.
"Time for dinner!"
The little soliders march into my friend's blood money estate. I pretend to forget the game for war and all t
Black and White TragedyThe angel offered a forced smile at her reflection in the piano. It morphed slowly to show her a frown and she touched her face. No smile. She was losing her head again. Her eyes turned to the keys. Black and white. They were so simple in contrast to her reflection, vivid colors against the polished body of the piano.
Angel bowed her head respectfully as she looked down to look at her hands. They lay so gently on the keys. She took a deep inhale and closed her eyes. She pressed the first key. Off. A little too high. Her brows furrowed as continued to clink her way through the notes until she found what she was looking for.
A soft. Tadume. A noise she couldn’t describe with words or even a hum. Angel smiled a little as she tapped out a tune. Gentle and melancholy in nature and suddenly she stopped.
Her mouth opened hesitantly. What would she sing? Angel’s eyes opened and she could see Michael’s picture sitting on the piano. No care in the world. Just a big smile and bi
I was someone onceI was being born in reverse. Every nick and scratch that once made me, me, was gone. The memories. The people. Gone. I was freshly confused by my existence and instead of being conceived as a babe in my mother's womb I was born a young adult; stripped of personality but not of my worldly knowledge. Being left void of who I was made me cry out to the ears that would listen.
You're Beautiful, Very Dirty Louis ImagineYou stood in the bathroom, inspection your face in the mirror. You sighed. Picking up your makeup bag, you dropped it in the trash.
"Why wear makeup when I look ugly with it anyways?" you thought to yourself. A few tears rolled down your cheeks, and you started sobbing. You heard Louis coming up the stairs, and started to panic because your bathroom door had no lock. You quickly turned on the shower, climbing in, not bothering about your clothes. Louis walked in, the door creaking open.
"Y/N, you in here?"
"I'm showering," you tried to say with out your tears being evident in your voice.
"Are you ok, babe?" Louis said, his voice tinged with concern. He walked over, pulling the curtain open. You were sitting in the tub, knees pulled into your chest. He breathed in sharply and squatted down.
"Babe, your clothes..."
"I'm not good enough for you Louis," you said sharply. "Stop pretending, I know I'm just a charity case."
Louis looked at you, shocked.
"Babe, you are not a charit
A mostly quiet birthHer nurses' uniform had grown tight over the last nine months, but somehow she'd managed to squeeze her girth into the white dress. She stood at the emergency room counter, watching as a woman about her size was wheeled in, hissing and panting. It was obvious the woman was in labour, her partner panicking beyond belief as he followed along beside her.
"My wife's about to give birth!" he practically screamed at the nurse, causing her to flinch and touch her ears subtly. Lately, loud noises had been incredibly piercing. She felt a flutter in her belly and rubbed the round mass, easing her own unborn child. Clearly the baby didn't like the noise either.
Calmly, she handed the man a clipboard and told him to fill in the forms attached, then went back to her pacing. Her back was aching, but she couldn't stand to sit down. Even standing still was unbearable. So she paced behind the counter, idly putting away pieces of paper and files as she saw them.
Another cramp seized her mid section, but
Pity--Norway x Blind!Male!Reader
Tonight is pretty peaceful. The crickets chittered and sang their songs,hiding in the shrubs and plants. The birds every so often made a soft snore or a chirp inside the nests. A few hoots and trills from the owls. It was a pretty calming and relaxing night.
...except for inside one of the houses. The Nordic house,to be exact. 'Come sit down and talk' they said. 'We're going to deal with this calmly', they said. It doesn't take rocket science to know that the Nordics aren't very good at being calm.
The talk had started out pretty well,but then the stupid Dane had to remind (M/N) of his...uhm...problem. That's when things started flying. Most of them hit Denmark's face.
"How many times do I have to tell you guys,my blindness is NOT a problem?!" The young capital yelled,struggling to fight a hammer away from Sweden,but with not avail. Norway sighed,crossing his arms and furrowing his brows.
Laughing Jack x Reader- The Children
“Candies! Time to come inside~” You cooed loudly to your two twin boys who were playing outside with smile. The twin boys immediately stopped playing with Smiledog and hurried inside to your side, the smiling husky close behind. You beamed brightly at your sons before ruffling the eldest son, (S/N)’s black hair that had (h/c) streaks twining in at the end of his strands of hair as he hugged your waist. Giggling lightly you lifted your youngest, Jack Junior, into your arms as he turned a light pink and nuzzled his face into the nook of your neck, his black and white hair tickling your skin. You beamed down at the two boys as you lowered Jack Junior, you couldn’t believe it had been six years since you had given birth to the two little boys before you! Had it have to go by so fast?
“Mummy, what’s for dinner?” Looking down at (S/N) you looked into his sparkling dark orbs and grinned, he had his Father’s eyes.
“Uncle Slendy said
Army Dad!America x Daughter!Reader: Coming Home
Contains: Mild Cursing...
The sound of a loud BEEP cut through the air of the quiet and dark room where you slept. Groaning, you began to slap your nightstand in your lazy attempt of finding your cell phone. After feeling a rubbery case, you picked it up, lifted your face from your pillow, eyes open, and unlocked the device, which caused you to squint. Shutting off the alarm that had disturbed you from your dream and locking the phone, you let your head fall back onto the soft and plush pillow.
Pulling your hand back under the covers, taking the phone along with you, you tried to fall back asleep, not wanting to face the day. “It's too early for this,” you yawned out, a small stretch following close after.
As soon as you thought you could get away with sleeping in, you were proven wrong. A hand came on your shoulder and shook it gently, kisses peppering the back of your head and side of your face.
Suck it up Mom!2p!Fem!AmericaxReader
Suck it Up
Mom!2P!Fem!America x Reader
You were a sweet young baby was born into a rough family. You were crying as your mother, Emily Jones rocked you. Your father Jason growled to himself. “Emily will you make that fucking kid shut up! I’m trying to focus on anything but that!” He complained. The short haired woman laughed and took a straw from her drink and tossed it at him.
“Suck it up.”
Years from then you grew up to be four years old. You were a happy little toddler and played outside with your uncle’s pet wolf when you tripped on the rough ground. You held your petite knee as it bled, tears quickly rolled down your cheeks.
“Mommy!” you cried loudly. Emily came over and squatted to your height.
“What is it baby doll?” She asked in a careless manor, you knew she actually meant it but she just had a strong attitude.
“I-I scrapped my knee.” You sobbed again. She rolled her eyes and took the straw fr
Last Memory (MichaelXReader)You laughed as you ran around heavens garden hiding behind the fountain as you heard footsteps approaching.
“(Y/n)?” Michael called with a graceful smile on his handsome face. You stayed still as he spread out his 6 golden wings disappearing. You smiled and stood up before a pair of arms wrapped themselves around your waist. You giggle as Michael pulls you to the ground to sit with him. You sit between his legs as he kissed up your shoulder to your neck where he nipped at the skin there. Michael curls his wings around you both in an affectionate matter making you smile. You nuzzled into his chest but pulled away when you both saw Lucifer and Gabriel walk towards you.
“What?” Michael asks annoyed at his younger brothers.
“I’m sorry are we interrupting something?” Lucifer smirked at you both.
“Yes you are now what do you want?”
“Father has requested to see you Michael” Gabriel said wearing his regular smile.
Private Thoughts -prose-
Ok movie's over. Now, I'm bored. Hmm, if i move my right elbow like 'this' i can feel- NO! BAD HORMONES! NO PERVERTED THOUGHTS INVOLVING MY SISTER!
And it begins.
*Phoort* *Brap* *PRRRTT*
Well, that was strangely short for her. She's definitely eaten enough to produce more gas, so why...... No... let's not look a gift horse in the mou-
*PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPHHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRBBBBBBLPPPPPPPPPPPSSSSS!!* * PPPPROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRBBBBBBBLLLLLPPPPPPTTTTTT!!!*
Ouch, that was... normal. and now my ears are ringing. Hm? That's a new smell, smells like week old lemons...
"Have you been drinking lemonade?"
"How did you know?"
The same way Rudolph guided Santa's sleigh.
"I used my nose."
"Oh... Um... Sorry about that."
Honestly, after 10 years of living with her gas she still apologizes for farting in front of me? Come on, if her fun bags were filled with air
Father!ItalyXMom!Reader: Tell Us A Story Bella
"Mommy?" your son Felix asked before you turned out the light and left the room.
"Can you tell me a story?" You smiled and looked down at your feet. You walked up to your son and kneeled down by his bed.
"What story would you like me to tell you?"
"Well, it's not technically a story." You were astonished by your 7 year olds vocabulary.
"Then what about?"
"The day I was born." You felt a pair of arms wrap tightly around you. You turned your head and you saw your husband of 9 years, Feliciano Vargas.
"Why are you always asking about the day you were born?" you asked as you swept a piece of dark red hair off of his face.
"I don't know."
"Yeah, come on bella tell us what you remember," Feliciano said kissing you cheek you blushed and then sighed.
"Well, I woke up as happy as ever that I was going to have your father's baby "
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
It was a bright and sunny fall morning when you woke up. You struggled getting up out of because of
Bullshit"I'm sorry that you're such a bullshit excuse for a human," I mused as I tried to eat my food. The girl across from me looks at me like she's fuckin' Bambi or some shit. "You're bullshit baby, all nice and full of it. You suck at art, you suck at fucking and you suck at life." Amused I watch her cry and I don't really feel anything because I can't. What happened to me? Why am I like this? "You're disgusting," I tell her, "Go fucking clean yourself up." I roll my eyes and leave my half-empty plate. I swear to God I use to be a good person. Then again I don't believe in that bullshit either.