A/N: First off, I own nothing.

Second off, I apologize in advance for the cursing. It's a rougher story than what I usually do.

Thirdly, this story is inspired by Kid Cudi's "Soundtrack to my life" and "Man on the moon"

Ty Lee shoved her fists into her North Face pockets, her shoulders tucked into her ears to keep the cold at bay. That shit never really worked before, she was just as cold. It was pretty damn comforting though. It probably has to do with human nature, or a greater force that compels us to do what we do. She always wondered about that trick, you know? If someone was watching from above. Were they observing everything she did? She wondered if that person knew her at all—if they knew the load of crap her life was.

Ty Lee groaned, feeling a headache begin to set up camp behind her eyes. She lit a cigarette and drank that smoke like a life saving tonic. The concrete beneath her feet looked oddly comforting to—so firm, so sure. She wanted that. She needed that.

Glancing in both directions she nibbled on her lip. She wasn't sure why she was acting so damn antsy but it probably had to do with her new sense of purpose. She giggled to herself, sucking on Death Stick number 789.

Purpose.

She giggled again. It had been so long since these shity bricks, and even shityer pot-holed streets had heard her tinkling laugh. It had been a long time since she's heard herself laugh. She coughed a little, her fucked up throat and lungs not used to the pressure. Ty Lee tossed her long braid off her shoulder and shoved the flyaway's out of her face. She looked like shit, she knew. She's been looking like shit for months now, maybe years. She didn't remember.

She looked around again finally finding it.

CVS Pharmacy.

She exhaled a sigh of relief. The heat of her breath and Death Stick Number 789's life sustaining, lung killing smoke caused a cloud in front of her face and up above her head. She almost wished it would stay above her to keep her company in her lonely ass life.

She quickly crossed the street, not really caring that she nearly lost her leg from a smokin' hot red Honda Civic. When she opened the door with a blinking O P E N sign an electronic bell beeped. It had become the sound of her life. Sadly.

She headed straight for the very limited books section the blessed store had and picked up the first princess coloring book she could find. Stuffing it under her arm she ambled up to the cashier and dropped it on the counter. The lady was not much a lady. She was a couple years younger than Ty Lee but with a scowling face, gum popping mouth, and Vogue magazine cheeks in front of her face she was pretty damn intimidating. But so was Ty Lee—they were just different colors of the same painting.

The girl behind the counter popped her gum threateningly and dropped that month's Vogue onto the floor in such a flippant manner that it could only mean "It was soooo your fucking fault". Ty Lee rolled her eyes, waiting.

"That all?" the girl asked, blowing a bubble.

"And some Effexor."

She needed to feel slow again.

The girl scanned Ty Lee's coloring book her eyebrows scrunched. Ty Lee watched as something in her face seemed to soften. She stopped popping her gum and looked up at Ty Lee. "No crayons?"

"You got some?" Ty Lee asked. She hadn't really thought of crayons.

"Yeah. Close to where you got this." She gestured to the princess, which Ty Lee finally took the time to register as Sleeping Beauty.

"Crayola?"

"Only the best."

"With the sharpener?"

"With the sharpener," the girl nodded, a small smile forming on her lips.

The two were the same. One was just Blue the other Orange. Total opposites on the spectrum, but they seemed to complement each other.

Ty Lee left the store to enter the cold again with a bag in her hand. She gave Death Stick Number 789 the last reoccurring kiss before tossing it to the ground. She couldn't help but smile even as she pulled out Death Stick Number 790 because an hour later she was laying on her stomach in her bedroom, coloring Prince Phillip's cape black and red like it was in the movie.

She felt a million years old, so she kept on smoking Death Stick Number 791 (now) and coloring in her prince so she could feel like a kid again.

But every time, she could never feel younger than 17.

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. . .

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A/N: Something I've been wanting to try for a long time. I'm not REALLY sure where this will go but I do have an idea that I think I can develop into something not totally time wasting.

Uhhh the cashier girl was indeed Toph. It's not important to Ty Lee but it's not unimportant to you sooo yeah. That's why I told you. And yeah she aint blind. Sorry if that turns you off, me too, but I'm a hypocrite… not really

Also, for those of you who have been reading "Red Lipstick" don't worry chapter nine should be coming in hopefully a day or two. Hopefully.

Please review.