DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN TEEN TITANS.
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WOLF: I know this isn't my best work, and I'm usually opposed to certain couplings such as this (coughs). Hey, whatever though. To hell with it!
This is just something that I vomited and needed to get out.
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vvvvvvvvvvv
JUMBLED
vvvvvvvvvvv
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I always know the wrong words to say, wishing I could make them right. When I open my mouth, I can't help but crack a joke perhaps corny and distasteful according to the sour look on her face. She looks at me with her cold eyes, and I wish I could make them laugh with warmth.
Something lives within her, I know, that is unimaginable. I'm childish, immature, and I don't know any better. I'll admit that bit, but I feel it, that unique energy, those few, savory moments when she giggles softly at my foolish, dim-witted self. And, I can't help but jump excitedly inside.
There she is, right now. She's strolling down the hall, absorbed in one of her dusty, ancient books. Her dark, violet hood obscures the glowing paleness of her face.
She walks by, alone per usual.
I know that I'm shaking inside, shuddering with nervous delight. I'm hoping that I could say the words right this time, although I'm pretty sure that I didn't think this entire scheme through. I go for it.
"Raven," I greet her, innards wildly squirming. "Y-you look," I gulp, throat dry, "nice."
Her lips twist upwards into a barely, visible smile.
She doesn't say anything, though.
Not one word.
I'm not a complete fool, you know? I know she doesn't feel the same way I do about her, and she never will. And I know how incredibly empty I am inside, how impenetrably black the holes have become (when I think about Terra). I'm not going to trick myself into believing that that beautiful (though creepy and strange) enchantress is going to end up liking a no-nothing, hackneyed green changeling jokester, much like myself.
I know this, surprisingly well.
I love her smile, though. And I love her laughter, the way her eyes light up in suspended satisfaction. She looks (almost) divine in that light.
I know better than to believe in false hopes.
Who could love me?
I'm small, green, and thin. I look like string beans with a green mop on the top. My voice comes off high-pitched and squeaky; it's embarrassing to say the least, especially for a 15 year old male. I'm a people pleaser, a hackneyed jokester, and a troublesome prankster.
FACE IT.
I'm nothing more than a few, mixed-up jumbled words.
vvv
Well, I hoped you (at least, somewhat) enjoyed this strangely short piece of fiction. Thanks for those who are reading this (lol).
PUT ON FIRE? (within reason)
REVIEW, CRITICIZE, AND COMMENT!
