Self reflection or self deprecation? It’s a thin line that’s easy to blur.
Self reflection or self deprecation? It’s a thin line that’s easy to blur.
Self reflection or self deprecation? It’s a thin line that’s easy to blur.
Revenge is a dish best served warm? Continue reading
True colours are shown.
A trust has been shaken,
Respect has been lost.
A heart that was open,
Now closes and locks.
A mind that is cloudy,
And wants to be clear.
The sun wants to break,
Through that misty mire.
A soul that is beaten,
Battered and bruised,
Has no chance to heal,
And no choice but to deal.
It suffers in silence,
Though it would rather not.
It wants to let people in,
But is too scared to try.
Where others are supported,
this one is reviled.
Labelled and misunderstood,
It suffers in silence.
So it writes down its pain,
But it does not salve the wound.
It only makes it dwell in agony
As it suffers in silence.
It just wants to be happy…
It just wants to be free.
There was a first time for everything.
A first step with eyes unclouded by a slave crown. The sensation of feeling cold. The sensation of her world growing a fraction larger. They weren’t unpleasant sensations but firsts all the same. To a young woman who had spent years under the control of people who thought she was nothing more than a tool, seeing her breath mist white in the wintry air left Terra enthralled with wonder.
Her companions watched her look at the flakes of snow falling gently, eyes alight with the pleasure of a simple beauty with kind looks on their faces. It belied the image of a warrior as they walked with purpose through the snowfields towards their next destination. The layers of grime on their bodies had layers of grime. Edgar and Bannon were discussing strategy for the upcoming negotiations. Snow was blowing in every direction, weaving an intricate dance pattern in the frigid air.
It left Locke to keep an eye on the girl. She had marched hesitantly through the snowfields of Narshe in the beginning before the snow had caught her eye and left her awestruck. Their cloaks whipped around their feet as a warm smile broached Terra’s face. Her hand didn’t stray far from the sword belted at her hip in case of any danger but still, there was an innocence in her reaction that left the treasure hunter and the others soon afterwards thinking wistfully of simpler times.
The snow may have gone on for countless miles with no end in sight, but the innocent joy from one who’d forgotten what those feelings were like was enough to melt the heart of even the mightiest of foes.
I refuse to be…
a cookie-cutter shaped
of a person.
I refuse to conform…
To the expectations of
To be weak,
To be silenced.
To be bullied
and afraid of
those around me.
I outright refuse…
To engage in
To go with the flow
and never be myself.
I refuse so much
to become a better person
in my own way.
Let me be,
let me love,
let me stop pretending,
to be something that
To you who work in Customer Service –
Consider this a word from the wise.
Do not give lip to your bread and butter
For never shall it grease your wheel.
The rust will envelop your spokes
And leave you thus to squander.
If your bread and butter is older than you
Respect it, you must!
If not for that bread, you would be nothing!
An insignificant fleck of dust.
The foulest of dander surrounds your countenance.
Learn from this, you must!
The bread and butter is always right.
Ne’er shall it lead you astray.
Heed these words from one wiser than yourself.
Egotism shall never show you the way
But the route most humble always shall.
Sheryl was her worst critic as she sat on the couch in her hotel room glaring at her performance. It had to be one of the worst she’d ever given. Her voice had cracked more than once and she’d become pitchy near the end. She was highly considering throwing the remote through the TV when it was plucked from her loose grip and the channel was changed without delay.
“I was watching that,” she huffed out in annoyance before glancing up and spotting Alto.
Alto changing the channel without permission was even worse than when Grace would turn it off completely.
“Funny,” he shot back. “It looked like you were about to kill the TV with the look you were giving it.”
“And your point would be…?” Sheryl snapped irritably before snatching the remote and flipping the channel back to the music program she’d been watching. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to get on that show much less perform on it?”
“You’re singing your latest single, what else is there to watch?” Alto retorted. “It’s just a show, why don’t you just record it and get it over with?”
“Because I’m watching it right now and you changing the channel isn’t helping things, stupid Alto.” The diva rebuttled. “This isn’t like the videos of you from your Kabuki days which I’ve seen at least three of in the past two days. Really Alto, who did your makeup? It was terrible.”
“It doesn’t matter who did my makeup,” Alto countered. “These shows are on all the time. Did you even think to check the listings?”
Sheryl stood up then and pointed the remote at Alto. “Last I checked, this was my hotel room, not yours.”
“And I’m saying that there are better things on TV than preening while watching your own interview. Honestly Sheryl, why can’t you just sit back and read a book or something?” Alto said with exasperation.
Sheryl spun around and flopped back onto the couch with a disgusted look on her face before glaring at the television screen instead. “I’m not talking to you right now, Alto Saotome.”
“Excuse me?” The pilot flared. “You’re such a child Sheryl.” He said irritably before reaching down to grab the remote and turn the television off. “There’s a billion other things you could be doing right now.”
She shot him a challenging look. He certainly had a lot of moxy for a pilot that was more trouble than he was worth. “So is this what you always do when you’re with Ranka-chan?”
She watched with great amusement as Alto’s cheeks blushed in embarrassment at her insinuation. It may have been taking things a bit too far but sometimes you had to take things to the extreme. Sheryl knew exactly what buttons to push to get Alto out of her hair and it worked like a charm as he slammed the remote on the table behind the couch and stormed away.
“Do whatever you want then Sheryl,” he practically shouted at her. “Don’t come crying to me because you don’t like your performance.”
“And who said that I was going to do any sort of crying over my performance?” Sheryl said tartly. “I’m a Pro and I deal with criticism as any pro would. With dignity and grace.”
“Yeah, your definition of dignity and grace is implying that I’m doing something with Ranka when you damn well know better.” Alto replied with a bitter tone.
“My definition of dignity and grace?!” Sheryl snapped back. “At least I have dignity and grace unlike some uncouth pilot who doesn’t know his head from a hole in the ground!”
Alto was glaring daggers at Sheryl by that point in the argument. They both knew that this was a stupid argument to be having and if they continued it any longer it would only spiral into a trainwreck with disastrous results. Finally, knowing that he’d never win an argument with Sheryl when she was like this, Alto decided to take the high road.
“I’m leaving,” he said flatly before turning on his heels and let himself out.
The slam of the door spoke volumes more to Sheryl than his words ever could and she stood there glaring at the door before reaching for a notepad and pen. A song of anger was burning in her mind and she had to get it out.
Just who was this person standing before him?
Kurogane wasn’t sure just who he was looking at. Was he looking at the magician who was a proverbial pain in his ass or was he looking at the broken shell of a man who was bordering on losing everything dear to him. It was like the ninja was meeting Fai again for the first time and the irritation that he’d felt then was bubbling up inside of him now.
They had just defeated Ashura and recovered the Princess’ feather. Everything should have been fine. The pork bun should’ve been transporting them to another world. The four of them should’ve been on their way and continuing their desperate searching for Sakura’s feathers. Instead, Celes was falling apart from the inside and Fai was at the very center of it.
Four of them would be able to escape Celes today but it just wouldn’t fly for Kurogane. Everything had become a blur at that point. There was too much going and there stood Fai urging him to forget him and go ahead with continuing their quest. Didn’t the damn magician realize that they were friends now? The ninja wasn’t about to dessert his comrade, his friend like this and their words were a jumbled mess in his memory by now.
Something had come over Kurogane as he cut off his own arm to leave it in Fai’s place. The ninja hauled the other out of the center of Celes in the nick of time as they were transported away from the dying world. Fai was coming with them come hell or high water. Magicians and Space Time Witches be damned to the underworld and back. Kurogane wasn’t willing to lose any more people when he had to protect them. He’d lost enough strength on that damn world as it was. Losing an arm imbued with Fai’s magic was a necessary sacrifice.
A sacrifice that left him weak and delirious with fever. He now stood in front of a mirror staring back at someone who didn’t seem like himself. In fact, Kurogane is looking at the man that he used to be. The man who had lost his way and forgotten what true strength was. He’d learned much in his travels with Syaoran, the Princess and Fai that looking back upon that surly ninja who was adamant in feeling that everything going on around him had nothing to do with him was just so different from the man he was today.
He remembered why he’d wanted strength in the first place and found new people to protect with that strength. There was a magician hiding behind a mask that wasn’t what he truly was, a Princess with no memories searching for who she was and a Kid possessing more true strength than he had possessed at Syaoran’s age. Little by little, Kurogane had come to aid the three on their quest more often than he wanted and naturally, the four of them had formed a close bond.
“You’re not who I am anymore,” he said to his reflection and watched as it faded away. “I have the power to protect my friends and Princess Tomoyo and I will never let myself go back to the way that I was. My strength may have faded after killing Ashura but the Gods be damned if I let those who would do them harm take them from me again.”
The mirror remained and to break it would surely mean he could escape whatever dream he was trapped in. With a dangerous smirk on his face, Kurogane broke the mirror in his dreams with ease. His world was slowly getting lighter by the second before he was staring up at the ceiling half awake.
It was time to face the person he had become and was still becoming.
It was late at night, and everyone had retired for the night. It was cold and starless, and Locke could see his breath misting in the air despite being nearest to the fire. Scanning the placid faces of his companions, he realized that the girls had curled up together near the fire. Sabin’s loud snoring made Locke debated the pros and cons of stuffing a pair of the Monk’s socks in his mouth.
Even as Locke smirked at the idea, the treasure hunter didn’t have a death wish and decided against it. The rest of their companions had lucked out and won a coveted place in one of their tents. He found himself cursing Setzer because he knew he’d been swindled. They all could choose their game or deciding factor of choice and Locke was terrible at poker. One hand had decided his fate and left him feeling that the Gambler had stacked his deck.
“Next time, rock paper scissors…” Locke breathed out softly as he stretched his calloused hands out toward the fire. They were stiff with cold. Getting stuck with first watch without the luxury of a sleeping roll, to wrap himself in was making it difficult to focus on looking out for monsters.
Before long, his thoughts had wandered from monsters and back to a happier time.
He was young again. Happy again. An innocent boy of eight, playing with his childhood friends in Kohlingen. Their preferred game had always been rock paper scissors. The Treasure Hunter had become quite adept at the game and never had to go up to the unsuspecting girls scaring the daylights out of them.
All of them except Rachel. She’d always given chase to the boy charged with the task to the delight and unrestrained delight of those who’d sneaked out of their certain doom. Her sharp screams as she gave chase to the boy who was practically begging for mercy always made Locke smile fondly. Those were peaceful times that ended when the Empire invaded Kohlingen. The childhood friends were all gone after that, and a sharp guilt had encased Locke’s heart.
He expelled a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and was greeted with the piercing stare of Celes peering at him curiously. He jumped up from his perch near the fire, heart racing and eyes practically jumping out of his head.
“You’re supposed to be keeping watch,” she said matter-of-factly.
“O-oh… right,” he admitted. “I was just –”
“—Thinking about Rachel,” Celes finished for him.
Locke sighed as he sank down next to the former General and stared into the glowing embers their fire had become. He poked it with a nearby stick before tossing another log onto the blaze. “I’m that easy to figure out am I?”
She placed a gloved hand on his shoulder as he placed his own over it. “You’re a fairly easy read,” she supplied coolly.
With a sheepish laugh, Locke looked over at her as she placed her sword across her lap. “How long was I daydreaming?”
The General shrugged her shoulders. “Long enough for your watch to be over. Get some rest, we’re heading out at dawn. Here,” she said as she produced her neatly rolled bedroll. “Yours is in the tent. Use mine.”
Locke was genuinely surprised by this. Eventually, his surprised look softened into a grateful look as he took the bedding, unrolled it and made himself comfortable. He felt Celes’ hand running through his hair, and it felt calm and was lulling him to sleep.
“Thanks,” Locke mumbled tiredly, wondering if she was casting sleep on him.
“You’re welcome,” she said with thinly veiled humour. “Rest now.”
I’ve got everything I need to make this cake, including directions. I did everything properly and my stupid cake is still burnt! The ruined cake pan and its contents are chilling out in the sink, the smoke is still clearing from the kitchen when the door opens.
“What the hell happened in here?!”
I turned around to see Zell standing there and I smile sheepishly. “Uh… well… y’see, I was trying to bake a cake and uh…”
“A cake? Weren’t you banned from the kitchen Selphie?”
He sighed. “Didja even think to change the temperature on the oven, Selph?”
Prompt was “baked goods” courtesy of ffviii_100 over at dreamwidth.