sarcasmdog

They don’t know. They don’t know that after they are dead and gone, their story will spread. It will expand and grow, and become somewhat of a legend. People will whisper it like a ghost tale around campfires; children will be lulled to sleep by their parent’s soothing recollection of their tale. It will be infamous; the tale of the stray dog who learned to love, and the headstrong young girl who learned to accept change. Once they are gone, witnesses will come forth. Townsfolk, who saw the dog, never knew what he was under the layers of torn fur and bruised skin. The man who attacked her, who had the bite wound on his leg to

Any Other Way The war is over, and Sokka is grateful for it. No more wandering around the world on a ten-ton bison with his sister, the Avatar, a blind Earthbender, and a winged lemur, trying to escape a psychotic prince and his even more psychotic sister, trying to end a war that has been going on for a century. No more living off the land and getting settled, only to leave in a few more days. No more meeting countless girls who he may or may not love, or might or might not love him back. He still thinks of Yue (oh yes, every day) and Suki (he wishes dearly he had gotten revenge on the trio of “dangerous ladies” who murdered her

running running running. all she can do is run; from hunters, trappers, humans with guns and snarling dogs and traps in their sacks, luring her in, drawing her close, then BANG blackness. she flees every time, missing the gun, the icy cold teeth of the trap and the sting of a dog’s bite and warm blood; blood that gushes out, staining the ground, pouring everywhere. she pants, feet hitting the ground and she runs, runs, runs until she can see them no more when she looks back. she runs even more anyway, getting far, far away from them until the barking of coonhounds floats away and there is no more sharp crack of the gun. she is forced

princesses and knights. And she needed no savior, and he needed no perfection.  What little girl, stuck inside on a rainy day, has not imagined herself as a princess? In long, flowing robes of the finest silks, in dazzling pinks and blues? With a shining golden crown, and fancy jewelry, and embroidered slippers; with a castle that reaches to the heavens, with hundreds of rooms to explore, a lovely garden full of fully bloomed flowers, and a stable full of beautiful horses; and of course, with a prince.  She wanted nothing more than a prince; a real one. Someone who would ride up on a midnight black steed, climb up to her window (which wa