I am really starting to hate my hair so I want a new style
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Life of a Rogue"GET BACK HERE YOU THIEF!"
I ran with a meatball sandwich in my mouth. A human man about the age of 20 chased after me, for a short period of time. But he eventually got tired and I claimed the sandwich mine with victory. I run through allies till I reach what I call home. Central Park, best place in all of New York. I run swiftly past couples of romantic humans kissing and speaking in this sappy goo goo baby talk, humans with their young, and humans with their dogs. I look at those dogs on leashes and compared them to me. There are alot of differences.
I'm a mixed breed, low percentage wolf, who is also a stray. My name is Rogue, I wear a forest green bandana around my neck and I'm a thief. I have a long scar on my muzzle from . . . Uh-oh animal control. I down the sandwich and throw myself in the nearest bush. They didn't see me, but they had a yowling tabby, tom-cat called Chief in a carrier case. I felt bad for him, so ran out of the bush and howled like a rabid, well, dog. They tu
LonelyI sit on my bed leaning towards the computer screen, scrolling through every comment, every note. I sigh, there was nothing that caught my eye. There was only comments saying thanks for the faves or thanks for the watch and stuff from friends. I stare at my message page with hatred.
"Is that really all you have for me" I murmur. The screen gave no answer, so whispered swear words at it as I cleaned out my messages. Once it was emptied and jammed my blue earbuds in my ears and began listening to my favourite songs to pull me out of my shadowy mood. I refreshed the page only to disappoint myself. Officially in a dark mood, I scowled at the computer screen which showed my personality written all over it. My music, art, choice of background, and everything else screamed me.
I turned off the music and switched my earbuds into my handy-dandy I-pod touch. I refreshed the page one last time, my heart raced, hoping for what I wanted to show. Empty, fuck you deviantART mess
Chapter twoI slowly wake up realizing the sun leaking through my curtains, even though they were closed. I yawned and looked at the time, 9:37 AM. Athena, my dog, sat by the door waiting for me to wake up, she did that every morning. I had named my Collie Athena because of how intelligent she was. I had gotten her from the humane society where I volunteered.
“So eager every morning, Athena” I say with a smile, she wags at the sound of her name. Shaking my head with a light laugh, I slip on the light blue slippers that were under my bed. She slightly moves out the way as I walk towards the door, I grab the nob and turned it. Athena dashes to the door and heads to the kitchen, I roll my eyes and take a sniff in the air. Pancakes, eggs, bacon, and orange juice were this morning’s aromas. As I walk to the kitchen I hear my mom walk out the backdoor. I shrug my shoulders and continue on walking, Athena runs back to me with a piece of bacon in her mouth. I enter the kitchen to the sig
chapter 1She sat in a small room that contained white walls with free styled art painted on some parts of the wall. In the room, there was a dark chocolate wooded bed frame with a black comforter, black pillow, and black fleece, all with white polka dots. Next to the bed was a nightstand, which had a black digital alarm clock, a Nintendo DS, and a Kindle Fire. In the shelf, there were a few books and some chargers, which had formed a tangled mess of wires. Inside the drawer were mechanical pencils and erasers and lead, and most importantly, her sketchbook. Next to the nightstand was a bookcase, it had some more books and contained movies on the shelves as well. The book case was a three shelf dark chocolate wood shelf, it was the same color as all the furniture in the room. At the foot of the bed was her desk. On her desk was a desk lamp and pencil cup. Above the desk on the wall was a calendar with blue, green, and red markings on quite a few days on the month. Inside h
examining the worldI lay here on my back, on the couch. I'm laying here viewing the apartment that I live in with a different perspective. The wall has a long crack and and a slight bump. Huh, i never noticed that there before.
As I lay here and look around, I think of my life. What has happened to me, the good and the bad, and how they shaped my life. I can't help but to frown but smile too. They made me who I am. As much as I am self-consious and feel ugly, I love my personality. I love that I have friends like, being a tomboy, all the things I love, being an artist and a musician.
After thinking about the loves, I think about the hates. Boy, that list is long. I hated the man that ruined my childhood and is trying to ruin my life, I hate the misery my first crush put me through, arachnids (god they make me shudder in terror), and so much more.
Sometimes I'm angry, frustrated, hurt, conflicted, emotional, but I'm also excited, joyful, surprised, and happy in general. As much as I would hate life, I lov
I Dream About HerI dream about her, quite often, actually. It's been nearly two and a half years since I've seen her face to face, and it truly does break my heart when I remember the good times. She was one of my best friends, one of the greatest influences in my life, and someone who could make me smile. However, all good things must come to an end eventually.
Drugs don't just affect you, they affect your friends. When you've been roped into the bad crowd and refuse to turn to the people who love you most, you're going to lose everything you care about. Well, I cared for her, alright. We were nearly as inseparable as Sempai and I, hanging out nearly 24/7. Sure, there were fights, but every friend has a fight. It's when the line is drawn that things get messy.
In my dreams, I remember how she used to be, how fun she was, how silly she acted, and how she was just pleasant to have around. What happened? Why did she decide to go the way she went? To turn to lying, drug abusing, and overall not caring for
One last time. KristaXReaderFor music please listen
Highly recommended after the game scene though
"Two Kings!” Krista piped laying the cards on in the pot laying on my lap. She sat cross legged on the hospital bed with me. Sitting up straight and laid her cards face down in her lap leaning forward, now were both now down to one card. you looked up from my last card and glared at her. For such an innocent girl she had one hell of a poker face. you swallowed the lump in my throat and laid down my last card.
“One Ace.” you stated and crossed my arms challenging her to say it.
‘that’s it! the cat’s in the-’
“Bullshit!” She called out and flipped over the card that had just laid down….a queen,.
“Damn it Krista!” you shouted smacking the pile off my lap then pouted indignantly.
"Can't you just let me win for once." I asked. Krista giggled an
How to love a guy who can't love himself.How to love a guy who really doesn’t love himself.
Well first, there are numerous ways you can do this, so just sit back and listen.
Number one rule, tell him to drop his façade, abandon the stereotypes that society places upon him, find the real him, the core, so fragile and so easily able to be hurt.
When you find the real him, who he really is, then look him in the eyes, past all that buff, and all of that strength and mutter a few simple words. ‘It’s okay to cry.’ And when he cries, when he falls to his knees and allows his body to tremble for the first time in decades, you put your hands on his shoulders and say, ‘Everything will be fine’.
And when he looks up at you, with tears in his eyes, shaking out of either shame or anger, you just smile at him, and say ‘No’, not because he’s crying but because you know he’s threatening to close himself off again to the world, and put on that face that he fe
.things i've learned in
the last few months:
-friends are expendable.
-so is sanity.
-you can like girls and boys
and neither and either.
-it is possible to
exist while half your soul
is jutting out of your body.
-change does not help
-you can't bring back the dead.
-but you can hold the dead in your
arms when their eyes won't close.
-and when you make pacts with god,
remember that you're still upholding
so many promises with him in the first place.
-you're not suicidal, just human.
-maybe just a little less human than
-devaluing people doesn't
help your social anxiety.
-you can't run away from job
opportunities just because
you think a colleague is whispering about you.
-but you do get a choice on which job to take.
-and no, you're not so worthless that you have
to settle for a job you know you'll hate.
-and you do have a right to be paranoid.
-you don't have to write your sister.
RainAs the electric arc sizzles away like frying bacon, two pieces of steel are fused together into one mechanical mass. Its Thursday night, and for us its the last night of the work week. Weekend ahead, money in our pocket, endless possibilities.
But for now, there are 36" mower decks to run. Bright light on a dark night, smoke and sparks, and 8 hours of staring into a false star. The shop is filled with a light yellow haze, it drifts through the air like a ghost as we work away the hours till dawn.
It is warmer than previous nights, winter is coming to an end and spring begins. Its raining!
Not snowing, not hail, not ice that clings to all things, but the continual 'tap, tap, tap' of heavy rain, almost like the distant roar of a forgotten army.
Sparks fly and fill the night, the haze is stifling, creeping behind helmet and vale. Another hand crafted product is born, and ready for processing, on to the paint line and the day crew.
A hot steel plate that will be painted black, built up wit
A little thing on BiphobiaFor those not in the loop, as I assume many of you are not, biphobia is just as terrible as homophobia.
If you haven't noticed my incredible gayness, I am bisexual. But wait! (you might be saying) You're bisexual, not gay!(?) Ha. HA. HAHAHAHAHA. No. I am gay. I am not a full on double diamond studded lesbian/gay rainbow, but a nice cute little bi rainbow that appears after a little rain. You know what I mean.
You probably didn't notice but BAM- that was biphobia.
The first point I'm going to bring up is that bisexuals are part of a magical, mystical triforce composed of themselves, asexuals, and pansexuals. For those unaware, an asexual is someone who does not particularly like sexual activities and a pansexual is someone who loves someone regardless of gender and sex. Why are they in this triforce? Because they are sexualities that are constantly believed to be made up. Why? Because many believe that it's IMPOSSIBLE to
Can I Just Say I Love You?Well… um… hello there. I didn't think you'd actually read this, but here goes nothing. So I sorta… you know… love you. Yea, I know it's strange to think about. Me of all people too. I just can't help be die a little inside when you say hi to me and walk to her. You know? I just kinda get a little jealous, but I'm too afraid to tell you I love you. So I wrote this note, hoping you'd read it somehow. So, why don't you just tell me you fell the same way? It would be wonderful to hear again. I know you are a little confused and I know this is strange. I'm not good a writing sonnets and I can't look at you in the eye except when I want you to see that I love you. So next time I see you, I'll look you in the eye. Then you'll know I mean it. Because I do. So, I hope I'll get a message from you or bump into you at the store.
20th of AprilIt was one of the finest houses, if not the finest house, one could ever lay their eyes upon, located in the more calmer and less trespassed districts in the city centre of Vienna. Adolf looked up at it. He couldn’t recall the last time he had felt so low-class, and this, standing in front of an inanimate structure. He felt so puny standing before the Viennese, two-story, excessive city apartment, its prestige overwhelming the seemingly small man dressed in a plain everyday black suit and a navy-blue tie to go along with it, the fanciest he could find that was stuffed somewhere within his drawers, which complemented the colour of his eyes. His eyes were the only bodily feature he was personally quite fond of. Friends, family and others he had encountered would always remark about the magic and charm his eyes tend to conjure (interestingly enough this was mostly expressed by the female ratio). His shoes, also black, he had polished as best he could. He held his grey felt hat which
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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