The Autumn Child (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sharpeningthebones) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
rainbowfic2013-08-27 05:07 am
sharpeningthebones) wrote in rainbowfic2013-08-27 05:07 am
Halloween orange
Name: Mallory
Story: Golden, Broken Or Lost
Colors: Halloween Orange: The past is a place where the bus doens't roam and there's no station called "yesterday."
Supplies: None
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Word count; 167
Notes: Written for a combination of prompts. I think I really want to do a litle claiming piece for each of the girls in the verse, I just need to get around to doing it.
Summary: She is not bound by the pages. She is no longer a little girl.
We spin under the ashes of burnt pages, under our stories that no longer bind us.
We laugh, knowing freedom. We sing, knowing our wills are no longer tied to the page.
Because we broke free of our bonds, we tore through the thin gates keeping us from seeing the truth. We now what freedom smells like and it is the smell of burning.
I used to be someone you knew by the red hood and the picnic basket. Now I shed those things and turn into something more, something beyond fables and into fact.
No longer am I the little girl but a woman, with a woman's need and desires. I will never be trapped as that little girl again and I never wan to be.
So here I am, proud and tall. Here I am with full breasts and a lower oie. Here I am and I say to you this.
I am not scared of wolves and I know how to use an ax.
Story: Golden, Broken Or Lost
Colors: Halloween Orange: The past is a place where the bus doens't roam and there's no station called "yesterday."
Supplies: None
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Word count; 167
Notes: Written for a combination of prompts. I think I really want to do a litle claiming piece for each of the girls in the verse, I just need to get around to doing it.
Summary: She is not bound by the pages. She is no longer a little girl.
We spin under the ashes of burnt pages, under our stories that no longer bind us.
We laugh, knowing freedom. We sing, knowing our wills are no longer tied to the page.
Because we broke free of our bonds, we tore through the thin gates keeping us from seeing the truth. We now what freedom smells like and it is the smell of burning.
I used to be someone you knew by the red hood and the picnic basket. Now I shed those things and turn into something more, something beyond fables and into fact.
No longer am I the little girl but a woman, with a woman's need and desires. I will never be trapped as that little girl again and I never wan to be.
So here I am, proud and tall. Here I am with full breasts and a lower oie. Here I am and I say to you this.
I am not scared of wolves and I know how to use an ax.
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a lower oie
I'm not sure what you meant by that?
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And that would be a typo. XD Sorry >
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Pardon me while I smirk in delight.
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I just keep making stupid hand gestures s I reply to these. <33333
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And that last line! XD