Shop More Submit  Join Login

Similar Deviations
These results appear less relevant than we'd like. While we're working on improving More Like This, you can help by collecting "Unknown Planet" with similar deviations.
This is hwo i really feel and always will feel~):
Show
Add a Comment:
 
No comments have been added yet.

Love is defined as affection towards another person.  This definition does not limit this powerful emotion to just a man and a woman.  Of course there are many types of love, such as that of a parent towards a child, or a good friendship, but focus on romantic love.  The constitution does not say that love must be confined to a man and a woman either.  Yet we as the United States of America still leave it up to states to allow or ban two people of the same sex to become legally married.  Some religions believe that homosexuals will go to hell, and some people believe that the planet should be ridden of this “filth.”  Is it wrong to love? Government limits love, religion limits love, and intolerant people limit love, and we must all put up with the hate thrown at us until we can stand up for what is right.

The United States government allows discrimination even though we have the pursuit of happiness.  They do not say that two people of the same sex cannot be together, yet they still limit our freedom as human beings.  In very few states are homosexuals allowed to have a civil union, and in even fewer they are allowed to be married.  Some people say that civil unions are marriages, but they are most certainly not.  Just as an example, marriages are kept across state lines.  For instance, if a couple gets married in California, which allows civil unions and marriages, and they move to Nevada, they are no longer considered “married”.  This is only one example of many differences that separate civil unions from marriages.  By depriving a certain people a right shared by everyone else is discrimination, and by separating a people from others is segregation.  The government sets the rules and the path for the country, and if the government discriminates, people seem to think that it is acceptable when it is clearly not.

In some religions, homosexuality is thought to be a sin, punishable by a life in hell.  That is similar to saying that all people who like to eat pizza will go to hell.  Although these emotions may seem irrational to a third party, somehow they feel natural to those who believe them.  Hitler persuaded an entire nation to believe that Jews were the reason for Germany's downfall, and some, but not all religions are beginning to share traits with this horrific man's work.  There is an online religious site that supposedly “cures” homosexuality.  On this site, the message “God hates fags” is written as well as an entire list of over 50 bands that supposedly promote homosexuality, many of which are popular among today's teens.

They are ideas like these which are instilled within childrens minds and stay throughout their lives.  Parents are the biggest role models in families, therefore if parents act ignorant and intolerant, it is most likely that their  children will be the same.  Religion and government influence people enough for 6 million Jews to be killed in Germany and certainly enough for 3rd graders to be running around calling each other fags, when they most likely have no idea what it means.  Someone once said, “Why is there enough religion to incite war, but not enough to instill tolerance?”  This question should be asked around the world because we desperately need help if we are to continue as a whole nation.
"I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands: one Nation under God, indivisible, With Liberty and Justice for all."

Think about this pledge when you read this editorial.

I wrote this for a English project.
I would love constructive criticism, however, please be kind.

I have a close connection to to this topic which is why I chose to write on it.
Show
Add a Comment:
 
No comments have been added yet.

12. Insanity

Thu Jul 25, 2013, 8:32 AM
This is crazy.
It sure seems hazy.

Why do I keep doing this?
Searching for elusive bliss.

I find myself ever chasing.
From one to the other, racing.

I know what will happen after.
And it sure ain't no laughter.

I can't stand how it makes one feel.
It takes a long time for me to heal.

But for some reason I  still do it.
I know, stupid, I must admit.

I keep thinking this is the one.
After all this time, I've finally won.

So how come it never is?
And I just sit here with my frizz.

Why am I the one who always gets hurt?
And want to bury myself within the dirt?

Don't I deserve better?
What, no time for a letter?

Sometimes I think I might be messed up.
But then again who isn't?

Show
Add a Comment:
 
No comments have been added yet.

Granting you forgiveness, none,
For what matters most is what you've done,
Don't take it too kindly,
Thinking you'll ever get away,
But alas, you are sadly mistaken,
If you think that even for a moment,
That you will ever get away,

I am patient, no more,
Crime that you committed,
Cannot be pardoned,
Your soul will not have peace,
I will hunt you down even as you plead,
I have no mercy,
I do not forgive,

I forget your crimes, not,
They are burned within my mind,
As I see the one I loved suffer,
From such an unspeakable sin,
How dare you even think,
That you could commit a crime,
Thinking it justified,

I say peace, not anymore,
I wage a war that destroys the world,
Hide, you coward, hide,
Run, you bastard, run,
Nothing on Earth,
Will restrain me,
Not even Death himself,

Your plea for mercy, denied,
I grant no forgiveness,
I grant no mercy,
I grant no relent,
For your crime is too great,
Such deed cannot be erased,
My rage cannot be replaced,

I murdered you,
For I don't forgive,
For I don't forget,
You deserve Death,
Not even ten years in prison,
Is deserving of your kind of sin,

I burned you,
And turn you to ash,
As you burn I spit in your face,
I stomp on your body,
As it was consumed by flames,
Of anger,
Of justice.
For :iconlove-literature:'s weekly prompt
Show
Add a Comment:
 
No comments have been added yet.

GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE Sorrreeehh i got bored :3
GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE GLEE
Show
Add a Comment:
 
No comments have been added yet.

AlliesxReader
So What

You swung around in the kitchen as you gathered ingredients to make a chocolate cake while the radio played loudly. The oven dinged, preheated for the batter.

The men you worked for, the men who hired you as a live-in maid, were out for the day at a business meeting so you decided to cook something sweet up for them. You assumed the meeting would last all day and you'd have a chance to cool and frost the cake, maybe even leave a note and hide out in your room until after they ate the chocolaty treat and you could emerge to clean. Interacting with the five men you lived with wasn't really one of your strong suits, and you chose to work in the shadows, preferring an empty room to clean as opposed to one with a chatty man in it.

The previous song ended and another began playing while you were cracking eggs into the batter. You mixed all the ingredients together as you sang loudly with the radio. You missed the sound of the door opening quietly over the loud drumming on the speakers.

"Na na na na na na na,
Na na na na na na.
I guess I just lost my husband,
I don't know where he went.
So I'm gonna drink our money,
I'm not gonna pay his rent.
I gotta brand new attitude and I'm gonna wear it tonight.
I'm gonna get in trouble,
I'm gonna start a fight.
Na na na na na na na,
I'm gonna start a fight.
Na na na na na na na,
We're all gonna get in a fight!"

The batter was mixed smoothly as you jumped up and down with the song. Your (e/c) eyes were shut and you didn't notice the small, five-man audience you had picked up with your singing. Ditching the bowl of batter on the counter, you left it sitting in it's bowl while you danced around the room.

"So, so what?
I'm still a rock star!
I got my rock moves!
And I don't need you!
And guess what,
I'm having more fun,
And now that we're done,
I'm gonna show you
Tonight,
I'm all right,
I'm just fine,
And you're a tool,
So, so what?
I'm still rock star,
I got my rock moves,
And I don't want you tonight!"

You turned around after sliding the cake into the oven and setting the timer and saw the five pairs of different colored eyes staring at you, amusement the dominating feature in all. The song kept playing in the background.

'The waiter just took my table,
And gave it to Jessica Simps (shit!),
I guess I'll go sit with drum boy,
At least he'll know how to hit,
What if this song's on the radio,
Then somebody's gonna die,
I'm gonna get in trouble,
My ex will start a fight,
Na na na na na na na,
He's gonna start a fight,
Na na na na na na na,
We're all gonna get in a fight!'

A nervous giggle escaped your lips. When Alfred shouted the lyrics and shoved Francis closer to you on "waiter". "Drum boy" was Arthur's que. Yao was nudged forward forward on "my ex", followed by Ivan when the lyrics mentioned "him" again. Alfred himself jumped forward, never once stopping the song, with a yell, "We're all gonna get in a fight!"

Your nervousness disappeared and you jumped along with him, luring the others into the dance. Alfred was your duet partner for the whole chorus, before dropping out to watch you sing.

"You weren't there,
You never were,
You want it all,
But that's not fair.
I gave you life,
I gave my all,
You weren't impressed,
You let me fall!"

Everyone was still, then you grinned at all of them. Al and Artie sang the chorus again while you belted out the solo part.

"So, so what?
I'm still a rock star!
I got my rock moves!
And I don't need you!
And guess what,
I'm having more fun,
And now that we're done,
I'm gonna show you
Tonight,
I'm all right,
I'm just fine,
And you're a tool,
So, so what?
I'm still rock star,
I got my rock moves,
And I don't want you tonight!"

You beamed at the five men surrounding you and made eye contact with each. Green, blue, violet, chocolate, and finally ending on the light blue of Alfred.

A comfortable silence fell over you quickly, but was interrupted just as fast by another "ding!" from the oven.

"Crap!" you shouted, "The cake!"

HERE IT IS! YAY!
Check this journal ([link]) for more info on these stories and to find out my new uploading schedule. Danke!
I own nothing but the story!
OTHER QUICK MIX CHALLENGES:
America: [link]
China: [link]
England: [link]
France: [link]
Russia:[link]
Axis: [link]
Germany: [link]
Italy: [link]
Japan: [link]
Show
Add a Comment:
 
No comments have been added yet.

Airplanes
FrancexReader

The last act leading up to you finished and applause and whistles rose up in the MPR. Though, the noise wasn't unexpected. It was Francis Bonnefry who just finished singing. And he was very popular.

You didn't expect much for your own act as you tugged down the silver-sequined material of your top. Your black skinny jeans hugged your legs just enough to make them hard to tug on and your (h/c) hair was loose around your face. Sparkly makeup shone around your wide, (e/c) eyes and your lips were painted over with a matching gloss.

Taking in a deep breath of air, you stepped onto the stage. The bright lights blinded you for a second before your eyes adjusted. Once they did, you took in the silence of your peers, trying to figure out who you were. The large projector directed just off stage had two lines of words on it.

'Airplanes
(F/n) (L/n)'

The loud laughter of Gilbert Beilschmidt was heard suddenly and the crowd joined in as they read the sign. But tonight you'd prove just what level you were on.

"Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars
I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now
Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars
I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now."

A few jeers were still heard from the many people standing below you, but someone hushed them and they all silenced. You tried to see who got them to stop, but you just caught a glimpse of blonde hair before they disappeared.

"Dreaming,
Oh oh oh oh,
Of falling.
Dreaming
Of falling!"

You took a deep breath and prepared yourself to amaze all these people who were so against you. This song was just as much your story as anyone else's, and by God were you going to tell it.

"Lets pretend like it's 98
Like I'm eating lunch off of styrofoam trays
Trying to be the next rapper comin out the A
Hoping for a record deal to ignore my pain
Now lets pretend like I'm on the stage
And when my beat drops everybody goes insane."

You pushed up the sleeves of your leather jacket, it was too hot under the intense lights of the the stage, and kept going on with the rap.

"Okay
And everybody know my name and everywhere I go people wanna hear me sing
Oh yeah and I just dropped my new album on the first week I did Five-Hundred Thousand
Gold in the spring and diamond in the fall and then a world tour just to top it all off
And lets pretend like they called me the greatest selling out arenas with big ass stages
And everybody loved me and no-one ever hated-"

Your (e/c) gaze glared out into the crowd.

"Let's try to use imagination!"

A few whistles were heard from the crowd listening in, but you didn't let it distract you from your task at hand as you sang through the chorus again.

"Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars
I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now
Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars
I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now."

You shrugged off you jacket and ditched it at the side of the stage, revealing the sleeveless top of your shirt. For a moment, you worried that student council would report you for going against dress code, but then you let the song absorb you as you delivered another rap.

"Okay lets pretend like this never happened
Like I never had dreams of being a rapper
Like I didn't write raps up in all of my classes
Like I never used to run away into the blackness
Now lets pretend like it was all good like I didn't live starring in a notebook
Like I did the things that I probably knew I should."

You pulled the mic from the stand and started walking around the stage, as though wondering all of the possibilities of your life.

"But I ain't have neighbours thats why they call it hood
Now lets pretend like I ain't got a name before they ever call me BOB aka Bobby Ray
I'm talking back before the mixtapes before the videos and the deals and the fame
Before the ever once compared me to Andre before I ever got on Myspace
Before they ever noticed my face so lets just pretend and make wishes outta airplanes."

It was as though they had completely forgotten who you were. That you were the freak pretending to be popular for a couple of minutes of fame. You doubted their cheers would last after the show, however.

"Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars
I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now
Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars
I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now."

They sang the chorus with you before the tempo slowed for the bridge.

"And it seems like yesterday it was just a dream
But those days are gone and just memories
And it seems like yesterday it was just a dream
But those days are gone."

You took a deep breath and prepared yourself for the long rapping bit. You kept the mic out of the stand and you glided across the stage, holding the attention of everyone within hearing distance, both in front of and behind the curtain.

"Alright lets pretend Marshall Mathers never picked up a pen
Lets pretend things would have been no different
Pretend he procrastinated had no motivation
Pretend he just made excuses that were so paper thin they could blow away with the wind!"

The large swell of people was silent as you shouted out the words, taking in gasping breaths every time the song allowed it.

"Marshall you're never gonna make it makes no sense to play the game there ain't no way that You'll win
Pretend he just stayed outside all day and played with his friends
Pretend he even had a friend to say was his friend
And it wasn't time to move and schools were changing again
He wasn't socially awkward and just strange as a kid
He had a father and his mother wasn't crazy as shit
And he never dreamed he could rip stadiums and just lazy as shit
Screw a talent show in a gymnasium bitch you won't amount to shit quit daydreaming kid!"

Breathe. Your nerves shook as you approached the end of the song. Just keep your head cool for a little longer. They'll sing the chorus and you can disappear into the crowd before they even realize you left.

"You need to get your cranium checked you thinking like an alien it just ain't realistic
Now pretend they ain't just make him angry with this shit and there was no one he could even aim when he's pissed it
And his alarm went off to wake him off but he didn't make it to the rap Olympics slept through his plane and he missed it!"

You stumbled over your jacket and saw it slip off the stage from the corner of your eye. Your cheeks flamed red, but  no one was laughing at you now. Maybe you wouldn't duck out. Maybe you could keep up your fake confidence until it became real. But at the same time, maybe you'd approach them at school and everything would be the same as always. They'd laugh, and you'd run to the girls' restroom to cry again.

"He's gon' have a hard time explaining to Hailey and Laney these food stamps and this WIC shit
Cuz he never risked shit he hopes and he wished it but it didn't fall in his lap so he ain't even here
he pretends that…"

The mic was held out towards your audience, and they sang out the chorus one final time with smiles on their faces.

"Airplanes in the night sky like shooting stars
I could really use a wish right now wish right now wish right now
Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars
I could really use a wish right now wish right now wish right now."

Their applause stunned you and you stood frozen on stage for a moment before deeply bowing. The loud clapping and whooping didn't stop until you were long off stage, and even then the people backstage still had yet to silence themselves.

Sweaty and tired, you excused yourself to leave and stumbled down the backstage stairs and out the back door. The frigid night air stuck to your hot skin, making shivers run down your spine. You wished you still had your jacket, but you remembered it's disappearing and started down the street to walk home.

Before you had even exited the school, though, you heard the pounding of feet running towards you. Whirling around, you saw Francis Bonnefry, blonde hair flying behind him, with your leather jacket in hand. He screeched to a stop in front of you and caught his breath before gingerly handing your coat back to you.

Cautious, you took it and pulled it over your frozen arms with a quiet thanks.

Just as you were about to turn and walk away, you felt the Frenchman latch onto your wrist. "Can I walk you home?" The words were fluid from his lips, and you wondered if it was a prank.

Despite the sincere look in his blue eyes, you decided not to trust the popular boy with the location of you house and pulled you wrist away, answering, "No."

"Bu-but, mon amour! Why not?"

You spun on your heel, causing Francis to nearly crash into you. He caught himself just in time and barely bumped you, though he didn't step back. So close to him, you realized the major height difference between the two of you and tried to step away so you didn't have to look up to see him. His hands had wrapped around your waist, crossing over your lower back and resting on your hip. You hated to admit how nice it felt to be held by someone other than your family.

"What did you call me?" you whispered, losing some of you annoyance after feeling his gentle touch that hovered just on your skin.

He smiled. Not his, 'I-know-you-love-me-and-I-will-take-advantage-of-that' smile that he gave every other girl he looked at, but a genuine, loving smile. You thought you heard the click of a camera in the background.

Slowly, he pronounced each word so you could wrap your head around the translation. "Mon. Amour."

Your lips formed a small 'o' and a furious blush crept up your neck as he leaned in closer to your face.

His soft hands separated from your hips and slid down your wrists until they encased your shaking hands. They were guided firmly around the back of his neck. You tried to lift your hands away as much as possible, but when the tall Frenchman raised his head again your clammy fingers were pressed against his smooth skin.

Closing your eyes as he replaced his hands on your hips, you deeply inhaled his warm scent and allowed yourself to relax in his arms. It was nice, you had to admit. Nice that he brought you your jacket, nice that he'd talked to you, nice that he was holding you.

Your heart fluttered in your chest and you knew he felt it, for you could feel the steady thumping of his own heart deep in his chest.

He took a deep breath, "Maybe you need me to translate? Here. I'll try again." Another breath. "May I please walk you home, my love?"

The air exiting his lungs felt warm on your already hot cheeks and you tried to hold your resolve. "N-no."

Hurt flickered in his blue eyes. "But, why?" he asked you, tilting his head to the side and causing blonde locks to tickle your cheek.

"B-because," you stuttered, nervous, "I'm not your friend, so don't pretend like I am."

A frown crossed his face and he furrowed his brows. "Non. You are not my friend." The air left you lungs in a whoosh as he pulled himself closer, eyes half lidded. "You are so much more."

You didn't realize what had happened until you were staring at his closed eyes and you felt the warm sensation of something on your lips. With a gasp you pulled away, but the man seemed content with kissing you anywhere else.

Your cheeks.

"This is a joke, right?" you laughed nervously.

Your nose.

The silence was unsettling. "Very funny guys. Ha ha."

Your forehead.

Each kiss was deliberate and slow, as though he was savoring the sensation of your skin against his lips. "Gu-guys?"

The corner of your mouth.

You bit your lip and figured out that no one was coming to laugh.

The other side.

Your own (e/c) eyes slid shut as his reconnected his lips with yours, sending electric shocks down your spine. Fingers winding through his hair, you toyed with the blonde locks and he pulled you even closer.

A flash. A click. A snicker.

The two of you quickly pulled away, turning to see Gilbert waving a camera through the air and shouting to someone across the drive as he approached you, "I got it! I got it!"

Rustling in the bushes revealed Antonio Carriedo walking closer as well with a small pout. "I got the picture where she figured everything out," he muttered. When the two of them reached you, each slung an arm over your shoulders, resulting in Francis being pushed away.

"Guten Tag, Frau."

"Hola chica!"

Francis looked scared. "M-mes amis."

Antonio ignored him, waving his free hand in the air absentmindedly as he delegated with himself. "Now, (F/n). You seem like a nice girl so I-"

"We!" Gilbert corrected.

Tony's green eyes opened and looked to the albino. "Sorry," he apologized before looking back at you. "We," he stressed the word, making you giggle, "want you to date Francis."

Gilbert grabbed at your attention again. "You look after Francy-pants over there, alright? The awesome me needs time to find a chick of mein own."

You turned frantic, "Wa-wait! When did I agree to-"

"Would you?" Francis's blue eyes looked pleading as he took a step closer to you.

Two more voices filled the air as you contemplated your choice.

"Of course she-"

"My boy-"

"If not-"

"They're perfect!"

You shoved past the two loud teens and stared up at the fair-skinned Frenchman in front of you.

Grabbing his hand, you loosely entwined his fingers in yours and started tugging him away from his friends. "Come on," you muttered, looking away, "Somebody has to walk me home."

:iconvengefulamber:
I hate this song... BUT I LOVE HOW THIS TURNED OUT!
Am I the only one who sees the BTT acting as each other's parents? Tony would be Gil's and Francis's mommy, and Francis would be Tony's. Gil's always papa, except for when Francis is!
I dunno. My personal head cannon. But I like it.
A lot.
I own nothing and all that stuff.

OTHER QUICK MIX CHALLENGES:
Allies: [link]
America: [link]
China: [link]
England: [link]
Russia:[link]
Axis: [link]
Germany: [link]
Italy: [link]
Japan: [link]
Show
Add a Comment:
 
No comments have been added yet.

American in France
FrancexReader

“Excusez-moi?” you said to yet another passing French person and getting the same reaction of a turned-up nose and the facade of them having not heard you. You raised your voice a bit, desperate for some help. “Excusez-moi?”

You silenced yourself, however, when one woman sent you a harsh glare. Cringing, you turned around and stepped off the curb. You only had one foot on the road, however, when you ran into yet another person.

Murmuring a rushed apology, you kept your (e/c) eyes on the ground in front of you as you began to walk away, but you were stopped by the light touch of a hand catching your wrist. Fearful that someone with very strong feelings about an American being in their country was now going to harm you, you pulled your other arm up to protect your face from the person.

A soft chuckle was heard from the person and you peered from behind your wrist. It was a man, and a rather handsome one at that. He was watching you with curious blue eyes, a slight smile on his long face. “Do you need some help?” he asked you in accented English.

“Yes,” you sighed in relief, dropping your arm from in front of you. The Frenchman still held onto your other wrist, though. An angry biker road past, shouting back at the two of you.

Your new tour guide laughed a bit. “How about we go find somewhere else to talk? Perhaps I can help you out over coffee?”

Smiling at the man with a flushed face, you nodded.

Weaving through the crowd, the French stranger guided you to a little restaurant on the corner of a less crowded street. Not walking in, he sat on one of the outside dining chairs and watched as you lowered yourself into the one opposite him.

“So,” he smiled at you, “What’s a lovely young woman like you doing wandering the streets of Paris all by herself.”

You blushed a bit. “Ah,” you mumbled, “Well, you see. I was trying to find somewhere where I could just sit and read, but, well, I got a bit lost.” You shrugged, that irritating little blush still apparent on your cheeks.

The man who saved you from the crowd laughed quietly. “Well you could always read here!” he suggested with a smile, “They have the best coffee in town, if you ask me.”

“Alright,” you said softly, “Thank you.”

He got up and left, but for some reason you knew you’d be seeing him again while you were visiting the beautiful, yet somewhat hostile, country of France.

And, sure enough, about a week later you ran into that man again. “Je suis désolé,” you muttered, not quite seeing anything but pale skin and blonde hair. A moment after bumping into the man, you heard a soft chuckle. “Your French has gotten much better,” he laughed as you pulled away.

“Oh!” you gasped with a growing grin, “It’s you! I never did get to ask your name.”

The man gave you a mock bow, hand fluttering dramatically. “Francis Bonnefoy,” he told you, glancing up, “At your service.”

You giggled a bit at his silly-looking gestures. “I think you’ve already been more that enough help.”

Standing up straight, Francis smiled at you, a look that made your heart skip a beat. “Then perhaps you’d like to go get a coffee?”

“Yes,” you said with a soft smile of your own on your face, “I’d love to.”

:iconvengefulamber:
Just a little idea I've had in my head since my dive coach told me that when he went to France then weren't very welcoming to him and his friend. Not that we blame them, he himself said that "Americans make a mess everywhere they go, it's no wonder everyone dislikes us."

I don't really like how this story turned out...
Show
Add a Comment:
 
No comments have been added yet.

Regards sur un temps
Tous se contrent sans converger,
Chemins divergents
Pour amener
Vers d'autres adjacents.

Ô pleurs de la mer
Et désespoir,
De voir cette Terre
Comme un cauchemar.

Visions de ce monde
Regards échangés, ressentis,
Humeurs vagabondes
Dites épanouies
En voyageant sur l'onde.


ʆé Ƿandrere, Juillet 2013.
Poetry in French, the text says:

Snapshots of a time
All crossing without converging,
divergent paths
to bring
To other adjacent.

O tears of the sea
And despair,
Seeing this Earth
Like a nightmare.

Visions of this world
Exchanged glances, felt,
moods wandering
called blooming
traveling on the wave.
Show
Add a Comment:
 
No comments have been added yet.


Here's to the mother who never cared

The brother and sister who wouldn't share


Here's to the teachers who never asked

The students and peers who always passed


Here's to the man who sat on the road

The homeless and weak who cracked the code


Here's to the animals who sat by my side

The big and small ones who held me as I cried


Here's to the father who wanted to know why

The nieces and nephews who waved goodbye


Here's to the counselors who wanted to hear

The faculty and staff who shed not a tear


Here's to the woman who grasped the hard truth

The doctor and nurse who labeled my papers “Ruth”


Here's to the teddy who grasped my hand

The lions and tigers who could understand


Here's to the bully who prayed for my death

The mean and cruel who still called me “Seth”


Here's to the people who prayed not for me

The good and evil whose 'morals' I couldn't see


Here's to the gates who opened their arms

The angels and guardians who meant no harm


Here's to the God who opened his heart

The lord and savior who watched me fall apart

Here's to the silence.

--

Writing (c) :iconamerfere:
Show
Add a Comment:
 
No comments have been added yet.