One Last ShotOne Last Shot
A Hey Arnold! fanfic
Helga had just one shot to get this right. The back shutter of the moving van clattered down. She turned to the friends who had come to say their farewells. Arnold stood there, a sad look upon his face, as Gerald consoled Phoebe.
"I- I'm going to miss you, Helga!" the petite girl cried, as her boyfriend rubbed her back. She took out her handkerchief to wipe the tears from behind her glasses. Helga in turn gave her a hug which she didn't want to stop, but her habit of being aloof refused to let her linger too long.
"Take care of yourself. Don't be a stranger, 'kay?" Gerald smiled, weakly, pushing up his sunglasses to hide his shimmering eyes. The past few years had seen him warm up to Helga, thanks to Phoebe.
"I'll try, Tall-Hair Boy, I'll try."
Then she turned to Arnold. He meant everything to her. But she was moving across the country for the sake of Big Bob's Beepers, and might never see him again. She almost burst i
Masquerade .Part One.
~A Hey Arnold! fanfic~
"Olga..." Helga growled at her older sister, her arms folded across her chest.
"But Baby Sister, it's perfect for you!"
Helga stared at her incredulously. Perfect? Perfect and Helga did not go well together. Just like Helga and Olga. Helga and Lila. Helga and Arnold. She frowned.
A pause filled the air with silence.
It was the night of Helga's senior prom, and Olga, who had long since returned to Hillwood, was determined to help her little caterpillar sister blossom into a beautiful butterfly.
"Helga, honey, I promise that you will look stunning." Olga smiled, her eyes glimmering with affection. Helga sighed. As much as she tried to keep resenting her sister, she had become so important to her lately. Since returning from college, Olga had paid her sister more attention than she had ever received from her parents. She seemed genuine in her attempts to build bridges, and although as annoying as hell, Helga coul
Masquerade .Part Two.
~A Hey Arnold! fanfic~
She collapsed in the parking lot behind the gym, her feet no longer able to run in heels. The tears streaked down her face in hot, wet trails. Her eyes stung in the cool outside air. The music of the prom began a faster beat, throbbing in the background and blending with the memory of Arnold's anguished cry.
She had messed it up.
As usual she had ruined it for herself. Arnold now thought she hated him. He had confessed to her, hadn't he?
But he hadn't. A nagging voice in her head said so. She reminded herself that what he said was open to interpretation. Though his eyes betrayed some great deal of affection for her, she couldn't be entirely sure she wasn't imagining it. Something about wanting Cécile to be a certain girl she had no confirmation that Helga was in fact the girl he had hoped for. As Cécile hadn't she admitted her feelings? He could have been referring to that. She punched th
~A Hey Arnold! fanfic~
It was a miracle.
That was the only possible way to describe it.
Arnold gazed lovingly through the glass at the row of wiggling bundles of joy. He stared at one in particular a football-headed baby with wisps of blonde hair, and the largest blue eyes he'd ever seen. The child, only hours old, was blowing bubbles, clenching and unclenching her tiny fists.
Arnold longed to go in and pick her up, stroke her soft head and tickle her teeny-tiny toes. She was perfect. She was their miracle baby.
Arnold turned around at the gruff voice, to see his father-in-law. Big Bob Pataki. He found himself receiving a rare smile from the man. "Ol- I mean, Helga wants to see you." The man almost slipped back into his habit of calling his youngest daughter by his eldest girl's name. Luckily he'd made more of an effort to pay attention to Helga since she'd gone on to a successful writing career and won awards. Arnold nodded, knowing full well
~A Hey Arnold! Fanfic~
Helga pulled the covers up further, sinking down into the soft folds of her bed sheets. Grey light filtered through her curtains from the street lamps outside and illuminated a strip of her room, and reminding her that it was very much a time for sleeping. Irritated, she flipped onto her side and curled up, willing herself to think sleepy thoughts.
Instead she met with flashbacks and ghosts. She could see his face, blindingly beautiful, and smiling warmly at her as though she were something worthy of love. His green eyes shone like the light refracting from emeralds.
"Helga " His voice whispered in her mind, driving her insane. Soft, sweet and full of affection. He reached out and she could almost feel his stroking her cheek gently. Like the first touch.
He leaned in and brushed her lips gently with his own. The first kiss.
"I think I love you "
The tear slid down her cheek as that voice echoed in her mind. The first
Purple PenPurple Pen
A Hey Arnold! quad-drabble
Arnold finally started to pay attention to Helga. Ever since her renounced confession, he had begun to notice a lot of her little habits. Like how when they bumped into each other on the street she would get a soft warmth to her eyes before masking it with a scowl and some insults. Or how she would rush away and hide after their encounters. He noticed how her insulting name-calling now seemed to be more like a nickname or pet-name to him. Football-Head. None of his other friends called him that. Instead of frowning now, he smiled whenever she said it.
Recently he found himself staring as she nibbled on the tip of her favourite pen the one with the purple ink. He really should have noticed sooner, but everything she wrote was in that purple ink. Her writing was cursive, looped and feminine, unlike her initial tom-boyish appearance. She was often writing away in various notebooks, includin
To BelongTo Belong
Everyday is just the same as I make my way through the crowded hallways of my high school. Those too blinded by their own ego to see my worth. Those who mock what they can't understand, and so mock pretty much everything. At first it hurt. I wanted to be liked, and having people judge me before they knew me was frustrating. Yet now, as I stroll up the halls, it doesn't faze me. Why?
Could it be that graduation is mere weeks away?
Could it be that I have a scholarship to study art at a prestigious university?
Why no. It is because I am completely safe inside my deviantART hoodie. Safe inside the fleecy warmth of my dark grey hoodie, I am immune to their words. I pull up the hood, turn up my music and ignore the world, with the exception of those great enough to recognise the logo on my chest. When they see me, we share a knowing smile. Admire each other's deviantWEAR.
That logo is the sign that I am part of a greater cliq