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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.
Misha Collins + Reader - Looking EastYou quietly hummed to yourself as you wondered down the shop, searching for your favorite oven-ready meal.
In your basket were already set three different flavored, tasty Ben&Jerry’s ice tubes, two bars of chocolate and some cereals.
You were currently awaiting response to several auditions, but needed some food.
You thought about the audition for ‘The Tomorrow People’; It would be nice to work with Mark again, but you had doubt if they really liked you. The crew seemed nice, and the actors as well, even they were all a bit younger than you.
You turned to head for the fruits, when a familiar blonde boy approached you. His small, bare feet made a small patch patch patch -sound on the floor.
You crouched down to his level, and smiled.
“Hey, West!” A smile beamed on the little boy’s face, and he spread his arms.
“Ello, (f/n)!” he said, giggling. You ruffled his hair, and then looked down the market, searching for his father.
When Paths Cross
Sophie - 11
“Ok, so Nine hundred thirty nine divided by six. First you would…um. This is a lot harder I thought it would be.” Sophie moaned as she slammed the unfinished mathematics worksheet onto the kitchen table. She hated math with a passion. It was just so frustrating. Give her history, writing, even geography and she knew exactly what to do. Math however, not so much.
She didn’t understand how her purple clad uncle could keep all those numbers straight. Wait, that‘s it. Maybe he could help her. With that, the small female turtle jumped from the chair with her paper and pencil to find her uncle. “Uncle Don?” She called as she entered the lab. “Are you in here?” Then, she saw it.
Her dad told her Donnie had been working on something big, but this was outstanding. At first glance, it seemed to be an ordinary telephone booth, but Sophie knew better. First of all, it was wrapped with caution tape. The tall green booth, in an
From Awkward to RomanticA Bakura x Luna Fic
It was late in the evening and Bakura, an albino cat and one of the newest members of the Luno team, was in the shower, humming a few songs from Yu-Gi-Oh. But as he was enjoying the semi-warmth of the shower, he heard the bathroom door open. His eyes shot open as he let out a little gasp.
A hot-pink cloud of blush tinted Bakura's face. Why in the world would Luna walk in on Bakura while he was showering? At first, he hoped Luna wasn't getting "Naughty". But then he thought, "No, Luna would never be like that!"
"B-Bakky?" Luna stuttered shyly, also blushing, "Shade's hogging the other shower again. (...Douche.) So... Um... I just thought... Y'know, since we're boyfriend and girlfriend..."
"Y-You... You wanna..." Bakura's blush brightened as he finished his sentence, "You wanna... S-Shower together?"
By now, both of them were blushing so red, their faces looked like maraschino ch
My house my life tfa ficNarrator P.O.V.
" It was a house in a residential neighborhood . A two-storey house , 4 bedrooms, 2 baths , meditation room , living room , kitchen , laundry area , a beautiful garden and a large backyard . In this house lived a couple with their three children . The father was a descendant of Chinese with long hair to his waist , dark brown and smooth. He was pale , had a great chin, hazel eyes , hoarse voice. He was a reflective and quiet guy. Teachs ninja art classes . Ryou Wang was his name , but he was known for Prowl . He had a very overactive wife named Sari. She was a brunette , with auburn hair , red eyes . She was assistant of his father, dr.Isaac Sumdac, a scientist specialized in robotics.
They had 3 daughters . Mariana was the oldest . She was a brunette , had a black , long, straight hair like grandfather and hazel eyes . She was a quiet and sensitive to bad reviews about her family . She was 17. The middle daughter was Nur . She
SasuSaku: Reuion Part 7
Sakura closed the door behind her and locked it up. She turned around as she began to walk as she had planned on doing so. She pulled her hoodie closer to her as she felt the wind keep up a little bit. She could never keep her body heat since she was a small frame woman. Sakura looked up at the night sky, a smile spread across her face as she watched the stars and the moon shine so bright.
‘I know a perfect place to clear my mind and watch the night sky.’ She thought to herself.
Sakura closed her eyes and disappeared with the wind. After a second, she reached at the place that will calm her. The cherry blossom walked on the dirty path as her boots tap against the red wood. She walked up the bridge, until she was in the middle. She ran her fingertips gently over the railing of the bridge.
“I don’t know why… this place is so calm to me… I mean all the memoires all four of us made here…
Missed Meeting Penny stared at her latte as the rain ran down the window beside her. She barely gave any notice to the chilled breeze that was managing to sneak around the panes of glass even though her arm that was closest to the window was cold.
She looked at her watch then relieved her breath in a defeated sigh. He wasn’t coming. She should have known that he wouldn’t come, what reason was there for him to have come anyhow? She wasn’t anything special, especially to him.
She rested her chin in her hand s she went back to staring at her untouched drink. She no longer wanted it, she didn’t think that she would ever want a latte ever again. She had, after all, only developed a liking for them when she had found out that it was his favorite; it had seemed like it would be something that they could share. Now it only seemed to remind her of how stupid she had been to believe he would want to meet her.
Tomorrow's A Beautiful DayHigh, soft green grass, nearly as high as my chest, ripples in a light wind across an open field like rolling waves on the sea, and elderly oak trees wave hello, glittering in the late-day sun. Pale blue skies with natural, patchy white clouds paint a faded background, and there is a soft glow to everything. A bay and chestnut horses are grazing peacefully in the distance and birds are chirping and singing and fluttering around like they usually do.
With dark brown hair pulled back into a wavy ponytail, and a beaming proud smile on her face, a woman dressed in a black t-shirt and forest fatigues stands near a white picket fence, with a young girl on her hip, two other girls and a boy are chasing each other around her feet, giggling.
A girl, about four years old with bobbing pigtails and pink ribbons in her hair, peeks out from behind her mom's leg, one thumb in her mouth and the other hand clinging to her mom's leg. Her face lights up as she sees who it is, her dark eyes wide and danci
Cursed Flesh“The blood moon rises tonight,” says Papa.
We do not speak. We have been waiting for this night. Mama sits down nest to him, arranging her skirt with gentle, old-fashioned care.
“Will he be out?” asks Stephan.
“We shall see,” answers Papa.
Stephan slouches against the back of his chair as Liram and Juniper saunter in. They do not understand what the blood moon means to us. For them, it is a night of feasting and joy. We remember all too well what they were not here for. We remember Michelle, Tamara, and Kaspar's deaths. We remember hearing their screams without being able to help them. We remember him. His name is not to be spoken. Stephan has made his last requests of us. He will be the one to end the murder. Liram and Juniper do not understand the danger that we are in.
“Who's ready to party?” asks Juniper, as joyful as she was in life.
Her dress shimmers in the candlelight from the arrangement on the table. We have electr
OUR story..Sometimes in life we go through certain problems that can mark our lives for ever.....
A memory that wont be forgotten...
When I was 12, i was surfing the internet looking for a website to meet new people and make friends that would not judge me for my ways.
So I bump into this website where you could write music and talk to other members even join clubs and create fun lyrics or instrumental music.
When I started submitting my work there, many people liked it and thought that the lyrics were deep and had a lot of emotions and small secrets of who I was. I later on joined this group called H.E.M.F.L (Hidden Emo Musicians For Life). There I met this guy who's work was very similar to mine, his name was Ross. Him and i became the Best of Friends. One late night him and I started talking and composing a musical piece together. One that described our life, how we felt, our friendship, and that would make us friends for l
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.
Stranger LoveI am not the sunlit wing-print
splayed out on the bedroom wall.
I am not the dark mass forming
in a corner of an airless hall.
I am not the viscous vengeance
where you sink your spinning wheels.
I am not the leaky bucket
hung up on your wishing well.
You are not my soul mate missing
wandering a winter's night.
You are not the sound of angels
singing by a candle's light.
You are not the rasp of fingers
fumbling with a hasp of steel.
You are not the tattered towel
soaking up the things I feel.
I am the oblivious child,
dancing where the wildflowers are.
You are my unwitting captive
lighting up a jelly jar.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More