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About Literature / Student EiliaFemale/United Kingdom Recent Activity
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Literature
Tsumi's University Days.
First day, high as a kite.
Walked out, had my first fight.
Have to pull it together, I ain't paying,
They'll stop supporting me if I keep failing.
Got a lecture, forgot my stuff.
Before class, had a bit of puff.
Professor's clocked, he's looking at me
Kicked out, in trouble - Whoopsie!
Last night, got completely wasted.
Exam today, guess I'll face it.
Can't even keep my handwriting straight,
Guess failure is just my fate.
Somehow passed, lets go party!
Shit, did I really kiss Marty?
Why am I in this chick's bed,
Positive pregnancy test, filled with dread.
No seriously I'm gay, Why a girl?
Wait, how much is this hotel?
Hold on there are people on the floor,
I seriously don't know what to expect any more.
Nine months later, I get a text.
The baby made from our drunk sex
has been born and she doesn't want it
Hold on wait I'm a father, shit.
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Donkey-doo, Donkey-doo by achildishrabbit Donkey-doo, Donkey-doo :iconachildishrabbit:achildishrabbit 0 0
Literature
[Re-write]An imaginary bond - Ch1.
-1-
"You're just a ghost."

I ran snivelling out of the school building, running and running as fast as my undeveloped, stubby legs would take me, panting and puffing. I couldn't stop for a break. If I did, the result would be nothing short of fatal for me. They were still chasing me, yelling threats, screaming with their fists raised. I had accidentally stepped on the foot of one of them, apologized numerous times, received a square punch in the face, but they still felt the need to punish me. Why? Contemplating this was my mistake as I had lost focus of my path and stumbled over the edge of the sandpit, crashing to the ground with an ungraceful thud and they were around me in seconds, driving their fists into my face, ripping apart my bag like savage wolves on their first kill in a month. I didn't remember how long it lasted for, but when I opened my eyes, the sky was an orange-purple and everyone was gone, it appeared they had taken my bag.
I felt something light tickle my che
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Literature
Imaginary Reality - Ch 1.
-1-
"You're just a ghost."

I ran snivelling out of the school building, running and running as fast as my undeveloped legs would take me, panting and puffing. I couldn't stop for a break, if I did, the result would be nothing short of fatal for me. They were still chasing me, yelling threats, screaming. I didn't even know what I had done to them, but contemplating this was my mistake as I had lost focus of my path and stumbled over the edge of the sandpit, crashing to the ground with an ungraceful thud and they were around me in seconds, driving their fists into my face, ripping apart my bag like savage wolves on their first kill in a month. I didn't remember how long it lasted for, but when I opened my eyes, the sky was orange and everyone was gone.
I felt something light tickle my cheek and gripped onto the handlebars of the slide to pull myself up and slumped against, but I ached all over. Groaning, I managed to turn my head, and there she sat, pale hands folded neatly in the
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x. lonely little birdy. by achildishrabbit x. lonely little birdy. :iconachildishrabbit:achildishrabbit 4 4
Literature
Werewolf of Emotions: Chapter one.
September 13th, 1942.
Entry one: The evacuation.

Most of the mothers were sobbing at the train station as the children waved their handkerchiefs as flags out of the train windows. I gazed vacantly out of the window of my carriage; my mother hadn't seen me even to the train, instead turning on her flat-soled shoes as soon as I was through the paperwork and able to board. My father had died just after war had been declared, and at first my mother mourned, until she grew to hate me when she found out that my father had been having an affair with another woman even before I was born (six years ago), right up until the very night he had been sent off. I carried blood she wanted nothing to do with down to the looks, the curly and thick mahogany locks, piercing pale-blue eyes, tall and lanky. However, I was not a healthy child so most of the time I remained gaunt and undernourished, even though my cheeks maintained a peachy glow which made people assume that I had a high fever, in fact
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Paris: The Eiffel tower. by achildishrabbit Paris: The Eiffel tower. :iconachildishrabbit:achildishrabbit 2 0
Literature
The diary of a 'Bachelorette': Prologue
How does one particularly start off a diary? I do not know, but this may sound terribly cliché. The first page was torn out, though, because that amount of personal information is not needed whatsoever, although most of it may come to light anyway throughout this tale. I suppose in the context I am writing this in means that I want someone to find it, to read it, but as for now, I'm writing it how I would speak. I am a woman who will embrace the English language and do continue to speak in full words usually, not chav-speak, text-talk or anything of the like.
I say woman, but I do mean fifteen; however, I am an "old soul" as my dear father put it before he departed. Even as someone who doesn't really bother with things such as sentiment – I don't forward barbaric emails saying that I would die for my mother and "I love her so much" with a horrible miss-use of the heart symbol, less than three hundred and thirty three thousand, three hundred and thirty three being the truly ma
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Literature
The value of a life: Prologue
The crowd was restrained by the gates of the train station, guarded heavily by police. Hands that tried to claw at the padlock to gain entrance were swiftly dealt with by a hard whack with the baton of a policeman. This was my final journey, my final day on this earth, and I had touched the hearts of thousands, and those thousands had touched mine. Looking out, seeing the signs claiming my innocence and demanding that my life be spared made my eyes prick with tears, although I refused to shed them in front of the audience. I had always been seen as strong, fearless and courageous, and desired to leave the public eye in that similar way.
As I stepped up onto the podium, my body shook and I gripped onto the edges for support although my hands were visibly shaking. I was sweating buckets, my earthy coloured hair sticking to my forehead, as I moved it out of my eyes. The crowd's cheering and yells quietened as I cleared my throat, into the basic megaphone clipped onto the podium. If I were
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Activity


like honestly what possessed me to make this thing hahaha i spent so much on a premium and was so determined to better myself in my lifetime goal and skip a year later and i just give zero fucks about anything and have given up the 'omg i wanna be a famous writer!' thing (because srsly i can't believe i thought i had talent)
besides why should i care about the arts i mean science is totally more important it shits on the arts and it's enough to fucking disturb someone who is doing a time-limited work, demand them to give up their space for you and then proceed to throw a paddy and not shut the fuck up and just stand there shaking their head looking down at said person like gum on the bottom of their shoe when said person suggests that the arts and science co-exist and rely on each other I MEAN GOSH.

just srsly this is a thing that exists but shouldnt
now if you'll excuse me i'll go back to being envious of alcohol and some bitches ive never even met before because they mean so much more to my childhood best friend of fifteen years than me ( i mean, i'm not even worth a free text to tell 'yo dude i know this is the fifth time i'm letting you down but i'm going to get drunk tonight so fuck off' so i get to stand outside a shop for an hour in done hair done makeup and nice clothes ahahaha)

woooow im a lame person.

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achildishrabbit
Eilia
Artist | Student | Literature
United Kingdom
I'm just a bit of a dork who is obsessed with Sherlock Holmes.

I like to role-play, doodle and occasionally write short stories if I'm in the mood.

...

.___.

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Zenoxen Featured By Owner Jun 11, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
Happy Birthday!
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