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.
A Life Mission-Free! ES Matsuoka Rin x Reader PT 2Break hour was over, (Y/N) and (Fr/N) were dragging their feet toward the elevator when suddenly a man barged in with an officer on tow. The office workers stepped aside—some shrieked in horror—when they saw a firearm on the ski-masked man’s hand.
Hearing the commotion behind her, she turned around to see what happened. Her eyes spotted a police hat and her ears perked up due to the all too familiar voice she heard.
“Stop right there!”
“Wha-(Y/N), where are you going?!”
Upon hearing the voice she knew too well, (Y/N) weaved her way amidst the crowd who were running the opposite way; her friend’s exclaim fell into deaf ears. She wanted to have a clear vision of both party involved.
On a safe distance, she could see the struggle between an outlaw and him—him, being the eldest Matsuoka. Rin had his left arm wrapped strongly around the criminal’s neck while his right tried to pry the gun out of his hand.
TG: 4.5 - Welcome HomeSlowly but steadily the meagre vegetation of the frozen landscape changed for green bushes. Every step you took trampled more and more grass on your way back home. The plants rose, snow and ice were left behind – your home was getting closer and closer. Next to you, your two teammates and your sensei accompanied you down the rocky road back to the village. Excited chattering was heard from all three of you. Your first big mission completed; your first big step on becoming a true ninja. But yet…with every step you were closing in on your home village, you became quieter. Torogakure’s walls rose on the horizon, and by the time your team arrived at the gate, you had readjusted your hair four times. Leaving the chatter for your teammates, you just tossed in some snarky remarks every now and then whenever you were addressed. Maybe they wondered about the change, maybe not. Either way, you were home now. Was this supposed to be your big day? Having yourself celebrated
Walking with the WolfWalking with the Wolf
The wolf watched the old lady in her garden. Desiring her to come closer that he may sink his teeth into her throat.
She was the witch that had hunted his pack until he alone remained. Now he had hunted her and had found her lair. A cottage in a hollow deep in the dark forest. But how to get close enough to take her without her using her magic against him.
He looked around.
He saw a figure in red coming up the path. He was curious why would anyone come close to the witch.
Staying carefully out of sight he loped through the forest and found a girl walking carefully on the path carrying a basket and a long thin stick she was sweeping the ground in front of her with. He stopped near a large tree and dropped his haunches to the leave covered ground, snapping a twig in the process.
“G-grandma, I-is that you?”
He snarled at himself berating at himself.
The girl’s hooded head swiveled around to where he was.
“I-I know your there. Please say someth
Tomoe - Ancestral Guide - My Name is..The feeling of rapidly building up chakra filled the clearing. I gritted my teeth, rapidly looking around to see where my opponent had gone.
A blast of wind hit me in the back, picking my body up like it weighed nothing before smashing me against a tree. I cried out and hit the ground on hands and knees, ribs protesting against the abuse.
“Too slow, Tomoe!” Uncle Kenshiki’s voice drifted through the clearing.
I growled in frustration. You try being fast when your chakra is running this low, I thought angrily. I picked my mask up with a faintly trembling hand. This training was going to be the death of me.
“Get up!” Uncle called out.
I shook my head to clear it, then forced my legs to cooperate. I rose slowly, head practically spinning.
“Uncle..” I began. “I think..”
“What?” Uncle asked. “Is it time?”
I gave a curt nod. With my chakra at its current level, it would certainly work. The thought scared me-
Own-Fiction :: Not So Alone ::Tonx lived alone. He always had and had no intention of changing this. He was a werewolf with ash-grey fur and eyes like fire. His tail was long and fluffy and his ears always stood up, no matter his emotion. He was laid in his cave, having a nap, when suddenly; a sharp ache in his stomach rudely awoke him. His eyes snapped open and he curled in on himself. “Oh, fuck!” He hissed, gritting his sharp, slightly yellow teeth. “What the fuck what that?” the male questioned himself, but no matter how hard he thought about it, he couldn’t find any logical solution. He’d been eating right, three meals a day and had a sleeping schedule that he never broke, so why now, was he suddenly feeling hot all over, experiencing agonising stomach pain, and felt the need to take a huge dump? “Whyyy?” He moaned as he squeezed his eyes shut as his stomach cramped up. “What is going ooooon?!” Tonx howled and stretched his body out to try and make
Sisters HalloweenEcho sat at her desk in class sighing as she tired to wake up and pay attention. She yawned softly rubbing her eyes. Suddenly a loud thud hit her desk causing her to jump with a small squeek. The class laughed softly as the teacher looked at her. "Miss Masin. Please pay attention." He said as he headed back to the front. "Yes sir." She said softly and shook her head. She had to listen to her one year old sister complain all night about wanting to decorate for halloween since someone in her daycare had passed out pumpkin coloring pages. She just didn't have the time for it.
As the bell rang for class one of Echos classmates came up behind her and covered her eyes. "Boo! Guess who! Its me Emily! Happy Halloween!" She grinned happily.
Echo rolled her eyes pulling the hands from her face. "I don't have time for this. I have to get to work soon." she said running her hand through her white blond hair.
Emily frowned. "Echo. Your sister is one. Its her first halloween. Why don't you spend it
Timothy's TimeOnce upon a time there was a little boy, with hair as gold as a summer sun and eyes as blue as the sea. His overalls were covered in brown and green stains and a toy sword was strapped around his waist. He was a curious thing and his curiosity often led him into trouble. And like all little boys, he’d bat his lashes, give a grin, and sweetly say those two words that had saved him from timeout on more than one occasion.
“Sorry mommy,” Timothy would shift beneath his mother’s gaze.
“Oh, Timmy,” his mother would shake her head as she wiped at his mud caked face with a wet cloth, or swept up the pieces of broken glass, or neatly restacked the papers the boy had disturbed on his father’s desk. She had learned early on in her son’s life not to leave him alone for too long, yet there were times when she had to. She’d be doing laundry and would leave him in front of the television, only to hear a loud crash moments later. She’d be str
Breakfast mishapMariya smiled at her three cheerful children, her heart practically melting as she watched them. Matthew waddled over and started to talk to his little sister in that adorable broken baby English with just a hint of french sprinkled here and there. Mariya chuckled listening to her eldest son tell her youngest about something he saw kuma do yesterday.
Not to long after Alfred waddled up as well to take part in the storytelling. Although she didn't understand much of what her big brothers were saying, Alice giggled watching them smile and wave their arms in gestures. Francis chuckled now and then hearing little tidbits of the stories.
the peacefulness was cut off by the sound of a loud popping noise from the kitchen. Francis sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, the three toddlers burst into sobs. "ahh no no don't cry shhh shhh" Mariya shushed her children while bouncing Alice gently on her lap. "ne pleure pas les petits c'est bien" Mariya sighed a bit when the children then begun t
Where Are We Going From Here A cold breath of wind brushed over the tundra, picking up loosened snow and ruffling the golden fur of her companion. Cade huddled closer to Sayen with a grumbling noise of complaint, curling so that he could tuck his cold nose into the small of her back. Sayen huffed softly, a fond smile crossing her face as she patted his great head. Cade slept on, oblivious to the gathering storm outside their humble shelter.
The lean-to was buffeted on all sides by the wind; their campfire flickered and threatened to go out. Sayen knew it was almost time to move on, but they had been traveling for so long she was loathe to continue. Sayen considered their options as she wormed her way out of the cocoon of warm blankets to pick out a few slices of seal jerky, stuffing them in her mouth as she quickly returned to wrapping herself up.
Cade made a deep snuffling noise beside her and Sayen chewed more quickly. She managed
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.