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To a friend7
Hello new friend,
I know I just met you today
but I can tell that we've got a long future ahead of us.
I met you at recess.
I was sitting over in the corner, you know,
where I always sit near that big maple tree.
I was building a house of twigs
and one of the older boys came and kicked it down
and told me to play somewhere else.
So I did.
And I didn't cry.
ok, so maybe I cried a little, but it was ok cause
that's how I met you.
I just closed my eyes and there you were.
sitting in front of me
on the blank white sheet of my mind.
You are so smart, friend.
I don't know what an imbecile is,
but it was nice of you to call those boys ones.
You remind me of a character from my book.
Let's build a house of twigs together, friend.
And we'll be the only ones with the key.
I have a sleepover tonight, friend,
so I'm afraid I won't be able to talk to you.
I love to talk to you before bed.
I would like you to know that you are wonderful company.
My other friends don't understand y
Who the hell is Bucky?After he dragged Steve out of that lake, Bucky should have run. He was the Winter Soldier. He was a ghost story. A shadow. And if SHEILD or HYDRA found him, he'd have to hurt people. But he didn't run. He hid in the woods in a place where he could see Captain America laying on the sand, bleeding. He watched as people came and found his limp unconscious body, watched as they strapped him to a wheeled board that reminded Bucky too much of the chair he'd been strapped to after a mission.
"But I knew him."
"your work has been a gift to humanity"
"You will be the new fist of HYDRA!"
He scowled, shaking off the voices. He shouldn't have these memories. He'd been out of cyro for too long. He should get back to HYDRA for debriefing. But he'd failed his mission, and he didn't want to go back. So instead he threw one last glance over his shoulder at the man who had called him 'Bucky' and promised him until the li
Sleepovers and Stars (a Doctor/Master fanfic)“Are you ok?” The voice was gentle and soft and unconditionally kind, but the Master refused to reply, or even look up. He knew who it was, anyway. There were only two people on this bloody prison of a ship. He was curled in a ball in the corner of the room where the Doctor had locked him up after the untimely destruction of a small but densely populated moon. He’d sworn up and down that he had nothing to do with it, and his fellow timelord probably would have been able to forgive him if he hadn’t found a very specific set of wires that had just happened to be missing from the generator that ran the moon’s asteroid shields stuffed in his pocket. That had been a bad night for both of them.
And of course, the result of the Master’s destructive tendencies had been that the Doctor had left him in a blank and silent room to ‘think about what he’d done’ (Which was never going to happen, since it was impossible to think over the sound of t
Letting GoIt's like a little girl
cupping a feather in her hand on a windy day
She holds it between two fingers, telling herself
that she's going to let it fly away like the creature it came from
fly away and dance in the wind.
But fingers don't seem to want to let go- they preen over the little grey and yellow patches instead
and avoid the bits that are matted with red.
The little girls knows
what that red is, but she won't let herself think about it.
It's like when that little girl
takes home the feather held carefully in her pocket
and places it
in an old
under her bed,
where it sleeps until a few years later
when she finds her forgotten treasure,
climbs to the tippity top
of her favorite climbing tree
and finally lets the feather fly away.
It makes her cry
how it gets stuck on every branch on the way down.
It's like a 10 year old boy
fingers rigid around a tree branch
while his feet hang down in the air.
His friends aren't even there to egg him on,
To a Best FriendFriends know when you're happy
Best friends know when you're faking it.
Friends ask you questions
Best friends answer for you.
Friends are friends
Best friends are sisters.
Friends know your past
Best friends dictate your future.
So, to my best friends, the one who knows me better then anyone,
You're the Downton to my Abbey,
You're the Doctor to my Who
You're the apples to my honey,
and my life would stink without you.
You're the sonic to my screwdriver,
the weeping to my angel,
the doctor to my companion,
the hero to my sidekick,
and all the brightest starts in my galaxy are your's.
You're the Leah to my Luke,
the Star to my David,
the Ladder to my Jacob,
the Artemis to my Holly,
and the Max to my Flock.
You're the Katniss to my Prim,
the Britain to my America,
the Fez to my Bowtie.
The spring to my step,
the sole to my shoes,
the light to my eyes,
and the beat to my heart.
and though you can be
The Goliath to my David,
Whovergent Chapter 3: choices That night was the hardest one in a long time for both Theta and Koschei. Theta had planned on sleeping over at his friend's house tonight, since Koschei's father was a faction leader and had a large house right near the Erudite compound, but now he couldn't bare to even look at the other boy, never mind stay over his house for the night. Instead, he stayed in the school dorm for the night. Everyone else was going home for their their last night before initiation, but Theta's parents were always busy with work and the younger kids-they'd be there in the morning to take him to the choosing ceremony. It was probably better anyway, he thought as he lay in his double bed in the corner of the empty room. His parents were always able to tell when something was bothering him, and he didn't want to talk about it, not now.Tomorrow, he would be an initiate, and more importantly, he'd be saying goodbye to his best friend forever. That is, if Koschei would even talk to him to say goo
Whovergent Chapter 2: TestsFire and Water. They danced in Koschei's dreams that night, each momentarily beating him back into the other until he didn't know which was better, or even where one ended and the other started. When the dream started, he was standing at the choosing ceremony, with the 16-year-olds of all the factions sitting behind him. In front of him lay a semi-circle of bowls, each one filled with a substance representing a different faction. He would cut his hand with a knife and sprinkle his blood into the faction he would choose. Then his hand was outstretched, and there was blood dripping down his wrist onto the carpet, and Erudite water and Dauntless flame were on either side of him, in huge metal bowls, and his hand didn't know which was to go. Cool water, or hot fire. Bravery, or Intelligence. Was he smart enough to choose a life of certainty and studies and Theta by his side, or brave enough to choose uncertainty and danger and loneliness?
"Choose." A voice sounded behind him. It was cold a
Whovergent Chapter 1: Beginnings"Theta, I'm bored." Silence. The younger boy poked the older's arm, but his friend just brushed him off, leaning in even closer over the book he was engrossed in. "What do you want to do?" No response. "Thete, come on. What do you want to do?"
"I'm doing it," mumbled Theta grumpily, finally looking up from his book. "I will never understand why you can't seem to appreciate a good book." The teen had a pale but handsome face, with deep brown eyes, fairly high cheekbones, and brown hair that stuck up in an odd way. He looked even taller the usual next to his almost child-like friend. "Books are fine, but wouldn't you rather be out, well, I dunno, having fun? Exploring? Maybe exploding a few things?" The lighter-haried boy stood up and looked down at his friend with green-brown eyes, a mischievous grin lighting up his face. Theta was very familiar with that grin. It was a sign of impending trouble.
"No. Be quiet."
"Who am I going to disturb?" He scanned the library where they sat. It was
The butterfly in the GhettoMost beautiful things stay
away, out of reach.
On the other side of the fence,
where the world’s still a good place.
Butterflies don’t live here.
The bird song is a distant echo
just out of reach.
But there was one,
a yellow butterfly floating over the fence
like a ray of sun.
It leaves a trail of gold behind it,
as it flutters down,
to land on the cold grey ground.
So out of place,
like a dot in a sea of stripes.
Just like me.
Go, I told it.
here’s not a good place.
There’s no such thing as a good day
in the ghetto.
But it stayed
for a moment.
like the feeling of hope,
warming in your heart.
Then fluttered back over the fence.
backlit against a turquoise sky.
Some day I’ll follow,
cast off the barbed-wire,
cast off the pain.
cast off the chains I have to wear,
just because of who I am.
אני גאה להיות יהודי
I’m proud to be Jewish.
A message to the brokenYou drown yourself
in liquid sorrows,
letting the salty mess
burn your wounds,
and the sadness
to drip in your mouth,
consuming your words
and you say
you deserve the pain,
but I want to dry your face,
and whisper in your ear
how the clouds cry too,
while they hold such beauty,
and so do you.
It's Okay to be ImperfectThe moon
Stand Against SuicideI know the pain is perhaps unbearable,
But darling, please put down the blade.
Release your emotions through tears and smiles,
Rather than dreading these days.
Do it for the little girl, whose mother can’t be there,
Or for the boy whose father drank too much.
For the boy who can’t sit in elementary school,
Because the bruises from Daddy hurt to touch.
For the teenage girl lying face down in her bed,
Thinking, why can’t it all be done?
For the elderly man looking up at the stars,
Counting the days one by one.
Do it for the children who wonder, does it end?
For the ones who feel left on their own.
For the ones who think, maybe it wouldn’t be so hard
If I didn’t feel so left alone.
And finally, do it for one other person,
The person in front of these words.
Because you’ll never know how it gets better
When focusing on pain and hurt.
Live one more day, dear, for them and for you,
And I swear to you, problems will fade.
I know, for right now, it’s p
I Thought I Needed FeminismI thought I needed feminism, when I was a little girl.
And I am very sad to admit, that this wasn't very long ago.
I thought when he held the door open for me, that he was making a big mistake.
That he was being a pompous ass, and he took my strength for a fake.
And when he offered to pay my tab, I still called him an ass.
Because I thought he assumed I was poor, and below middle class.
Or when his hard work earned him a promotion,
yet I did nothing, and the boss' ignorance to promote me, I believed was a sexist notion.
My friend really wanted feminism when she found her ex-dead drunk,
removed his clothes, and without his consent, had a pleasurable fuck.
When her parents bust into the room unexpected that night,
she said he raped her, and he was arrested without so much as a fight.
Perhaps feminism was there when I walked out into the street in pure nudity,
and shouted the my neighbors “You have no right to judge me!”
I didn't care about the children who were standing in th
These Faded KeysOf all the keys I click
As we speak each day,
It's the back arrow
That's faded most
These white letters
Would surely tell you,
I reply to everything -
But the key reading "enter"
Will be the one to explain
Why it still looks new
I want you to know
Just how much I care,
But I don't want to be close
Out of the fear of losing you
But please remember:
I dedicate these words to you,
Sharing them to the world
Rather than clicking away
At the faded key ~
WonderI wonder how I got here
I wonder which way's true.
I wonder at the raindrops,
I wonder why they fall the way they do.
I've got so many questions
and so little time.
In this crazy world
I can find so little reason or rhyme.
If hope's a bird with feathers
that perches in the soul,
then I'm a lonely traveler,
walking a winding road.
But at least I've got my questions,
my answers and my songs,
for if life's a lonely highway, at least there's still wonder in us all.
Keep in Touch!