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Heroshipping...Pokemon fan fiction short
“Who the hell is this kid?” Ray asked as a general question, starring down at the red headed boy in front of him who glared back with emerald green eyes.
“Why don’t you try asking me what my name is?” He demanded.
“Oi! They make them so feisty now a days.” John commented to one in particular, “Especially the short ones.”
“I thought we were supposed to be meeting someone who belongs to a shipping that the author just found out about.” Cody said, “It can’t be this kid, can it?”
“Colosseumshipping is the only right one!” Sam interjected, crossing her arms stubbornly.
“Of course you would say that.” John muttered.
“Heroshipping.” The new kid answered, still glaring up at Ray, “Believe me, I hate it too.”
“Say what?!” Everyone else demanded, mouths gaping at the news.
Stained Happiness: Dedicated to the Day of SilencePokemon Fan Fiction short
‘Can we walk like we have somewhere to go?' John thought impatiently. It always pissed him off how slowly people would walk in the halls. He wanted to get to his next class as quickly as possible; out of six classes he only had one without his sister and that was last period. ‘Finally!’ John spotted a break in the line of snails walking in front of him and shot through it, not caring the slightest when he accidentally bumped into the one who had moved to close the gap.
Less than a minute later John was walking through the door to his next class. His gaze instantly went to the part of the room where he and his sister sat side-by-side. She was already at her desk, but her head was down, he shoulders shaking a little; she was crying.
“Kenzie!” John cried, running over to her, tossing his books listlessly onto his desk as he whipped past it, not caring when he heard most of his things hit the fl
I was boredPokemon Fan Fiction short
A Long Time Ago...
Just… a little… farther…
At the last second Tristan lost his balance and fell a good seven feet to the ground, landing on his back; just barely missing the ripe Pecha berry he was reaching for to give to his sister-in-law’s waiting Jolteon, Hiro.
“Ow! Man, and I was so close too!” Tristan said aloud, blowing back his dark brownish red hair in slight frustration, as he starred up at the lightly swaying tree branches.
“Are you okay?” A soft and very familiar voice inquired, steeping over to Tristan.
Tristan glanced over to his uncle Nick, his fair face scrunched up in consternation.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He mumbled halfheartedly with a wry smile.
“Are you sure?” Nick asked his grassy colored eyes scanning Tristan critically, “That was a pretty hard fall.”
When he finished speaking a stray lock of long, pale green hair fell in front of his face
Starlight, Star Bright: Ch. 8Starlight, Star Bright
Ch.8: Welcome to My Life
NOTE: if you are just reading the story for the first time now STOP. Skip to the BOTTOM of the page, click the link (FIRST) and start from the beginning please. I write with assumption that everyone knows what's going on already from reading everything before this.
“No one ever lied straight to your face
And no one ever stabbed you in the back
You might think I’m happy, but I’m not gonna be okay
Everybody always gave you what you wanted
You never had to work, it was always there
You don’t know what it’s like [what it’s like]
To be hurt, to feel lost, to be left out in the dark
To be kicked, when you’re down, to feel like you’ve been pushed around
To be on the edge of breaking down and no one’s there to save you
No you don’t know what it’s like
Welcome to my life.”
~ “Welcome to My Life” by: Simple Plan
Ray had never been so confused and at war with himself
When the Snow Falls: Chapter 2“Gah! The one bad thing I can say about snow is that it makes it almost impossible to pick up a good scent.” Chitsa complained as she searched in vain to find any clue to the pups and her brother in the frozen air.
Light gasped, “Chitsa, Look!”
Chitsa’s golden brown head snapped up, her indigo eyes frantically searching the direction that the palomino mare had indicated. There, at the edge of the newly frozen lake, were the tiny, indistinct forms of Chesmu and the pups. Chitsa bounded down the snowy slope that separated her and Light from the lake shore. As she approached she saw that River, Forest and Chesmu had already ventured out, onto the frozen surface. Shade still stood on solid ground, but she obviously intended to follow them.
“What are you doing?” Chitsa demanded hotly, although she already knew, they were seeing who dared to go out the farthest on the thin ice, too thin, even for such young ones.
“Um…” Shade began,
The aging leader of SmolderClan lifted her head from her paws at the sound of her medicine cat’s voice.
“PebbleStream, come in my friend.” She replied.
A beautiful gray and brown mackerel tabby she-cat walked into PatchLight’s den, a grave look clouding her face.
“The time has come again.” PebbleStream told her cryptically.
“What do you mean?” PatchLight asked her ears pinned back in the fear of what she thought PebbleStream was talking about.
Many, many moons before a great danger had come that had threatened the existence of all five clans, but one cat had come from outside the clans, destined to save them; IceStorm, and she had. Near the time of her death a prophecy was given that such a cat would come for more times, once for each clan.
“The time for a destined cat from the outside to save us all has come once again.” PebbleStream replied, confirming PatchLight’s fears.
Hey YouHey you.
With the perfect smile,
Even if it hasn't been seen
In a little (or long) while.
I hope you're feeling okay.
And I think you're
Doing really great today;
You are one less day away
From your perfect tomorrow.
SeptemberThe summer was so hot
the dogs stuck to the sidewalks
with the newspapers
and the black metal cans
everyone left waiting on the curb.
You could smell it
in the glass pitchers
on table tops,
and the sheets that never
dried on the clothes lines;
the canvas beach bags
mothers dragged wearily
across the sand
and the ice cream trucks
melting across the highways.
Children felt it open
up the windows at night
and find a corner
of the bed to smother,
while fathers baited it on hooks
or mowed it down
in flat, dry stripes
as if begging each other
And the crickets just hummed
beneath the corn silk
and the dry mouth
daring the cats to play
hide and seek -
searching for September.
Stormy nightPouring rain
Just another night
In this sad existence
The rain feels refreshing
The darkness is comforting
And they bring a smile
To my melancholic face
I am one with the night
One with the storm
Standing under the streetlight
Waiting for life to happen
More to Come, More to LoveMore to come
More to love
More potbellies bulging seductively
More love handles to lovingly handle
More expanding muffintops to nibble
More inches on the measuring tape
More pounds on the scale
More softening fat bottoms to sit upon
More comfortable living
More people becoming fluffier everyday
More size acceptance
More tubby tolerance
More self-loving wonders
More deliciously sinful food to enjoy
More freedom from guilt and shame
More liberation of libidos
More opening of minds
More unshackling of hearts
More release from constraints
More living large
More emancipation of bodies
More sleeping in
More breakfast in bed
More letting oneself go
More unbuttoning of pants
More flab enveloping abs
More thickening of thighs
More softening of faces
More doubling of chins
More dimpling of cheeks
More fine fat rolls
More cinnamon rolls
More buttery dinner rolls
More swiss chocolate rolls
More ice cream
More biscuits and gravy
More bread and
Capturing CreativityBe still.
A timid bird, poetry lurks
beneath your freckled skin,
the rustle of ruffled feathers
hidden in the poundings
of your predator heart.
In quiet moments,
you can hear the chirrups
of her breathing,
stone-heavy words tumbling
between the cliffs of your ribs.
Coax her gently
with ink stained fingertips
and rhyme-tangled tongue.
The Last GiftGod traces the letters on tombstones, fondly
remembering the deceased’s first steps
into His house. When He closed
the gates of Eden, the whole world
became a cemetery: the untouched garden
a hospital waiting room, overflowing
with flowers to be arranged
upon funeral wreaths, waiting for Him
to bestow His last gift.
your perfume tastes like shitit was love
that made me pull
the poison rose,
but no longer will
i allow myself to lie
in the shallow coffin
of your body,
no longer will my veins
stretch to compensate
for your insatiable need.
you are fresh cancer
in my cross-infected heart,
but honey i'll pull you out
with my own damn fingers
if it means saving myself.
Flames Never DieFlames never die, for embers always live,
The spirit of a fighter, only so much can give,
Through adversity, sorrow, fear and pain,
The flame of a hero, dims in that relentless rain,
But even in the great monsoon, the flames do not die,
For one faint ember lives on,
Rescued in love before it was gone,
Nurtured with kindling of friendship and care,
Sheltered with love from fear's evil lair,
The light is small, quivering cold,
But day by day the flame blooms,
And cheerful laughter emerges from the glooms,
Still it's not quite there, not what it once was,
For once it was the flame of a spirited leader,
A fighter who could not be defeated,
In time the flames will recover,
History will say there is no other,
No leader so great, no fighter so brave,
No will so steadfast, so determined to save,
May his flames never die, and his embers always live.
Parenting for Sex AddictsThe half-day.
We are not those folks that need an occasion to try. And that’s what they call it, too. Trying. As if the very idea of it is taxing. It’s not taxing and we are not those people.
No. We do not go by some magical calendar. Schedules aren’t really our thing in general. That’d be too organized. Too stuffy. Too… I don’t know… too planned. And we’re not the type of people whom plan.
If we could—plan—our lives would be much different. I think. It’s hard to say because this is how we’ve always been.
Our very togetherness is a result of impulse. I’m almost certain that the amount of time it took us to decide to move in together was significantly shorter than the amount of time it took us to remember each other’s names. We might have had our first conversation moments after that first… what I mean to say is we didn’t plan. Because planning would have been much t
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