Compulsive Confesser

Wed, 11 Jun 2008 16:43:57 GMT

Disclaimer: S'not mine. K.

Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour a day to drain the fluids from his lungs. His bed was next to the room's only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.

The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation. And every afternoon when the man in the bed next to the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.

The man in the other bed would live for those one-hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the outside world. The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake, the man had said. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Lovers walked arm in arm amid flowers of every color of the rainbow.

Grand old trees graced the landscape, and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance. As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene.

One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by. Although the other man could not hear the band, he could see it in his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words. Unexpectedly, an alien thought entered his head: Why should he have all the pleasure of seeing everything while I never get to see anything? It didn't seem fair. As the thought fermented, the man felt ashamed at first. But as the days passed and he missed seeing more sights, his envy eroded into resentment and soon turned him sour. He began to brood and found himself unable to sleep. He should be by that window - and that thought now controlled his life.

Late one night, as he lay staring at the ceiling, the man by the window began to cough. He was choking on the fluid in his lungs. The other man watched in the dimly lit room as the struggling man by the window groped for the button to call for help. Listening from across the room, he never moved, never pushed his own button which would have brought the nurse running. In less than five minutes, the coughing and choking stopped, along with the sound of breathing. Now, there was only silence--deathly silence.

The following morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths. When she found the lifeless body of the man by the window, she was saddened and called the hospital attendant to take it away--no words, no fuss. As soon as it seemed appropriate, the man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.

Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look. Finally, he would have the joy of seeing it all himself. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed.

It faced a blank wall.

I cried. Omg so sad. What a moral, huh?

Woo.

Fri, 09 May 2008 15:21:43 GMT

I would kill for someone in my time zone that can hold a conversation - be it over MSN or in real life - that could hold a conversation with my shy self.

I'm painfully shy because of disorders, and over MSN, not even my real best friend keeps a conversation.

It doesn't even have to be in my timezone. I'd be happy to just talk to someone more. Someone that can get me out of my shell or so. That can get past me being shy.

I think I'm done now. Yay.

Awesome.

Well

Thu, 17 Apr 2008 13:53:35 GMT

I'd like to be in a fairytale now, please and thank you.

I always wondered, was it fair? I have a little niece, and hell if she's going to let go on the dream that everyone has a prince in the end. And she's eleven. Ah well. I'm happy for her until her dream breaks. Mmm.

Oh well. It happens. :]

Just wish 'Misses' Dreessen would go fuck herself and die sometime soon. Mmm. I'm not lying. I wouldn't. Oh well. :] Who cares if I get into trouble for this? What's the worst they can do to me? Ground me? I don't go out. :] Give me detention? Again, I don't go out. I don't do much. Oooh, take my internet and computer away? Oooh, I'm so scared. I always have a pen and paper, and hell, I might actually write a proper fic if I'm forced to concentrate for ages. Make me write lines? I don't do anything but. :]

So yeah. Not bothered. :] I live. I'm grateful. <3

lexie would like to rant. ignore it if you wish so.

Tue, 01 Apr 2008 15:37:40 GMT

...some people, don't get what it's like to want a little break. list for myself what I have to do. and to shove in people's face next time they whine. should devide it up, too.

one rp;

Dreamservice;

That maya chick's site

In PM's on another site.

Seasalt

two rps;

here on s-k,

some yaoi forum

that Ouran site.

meta.

three rps;

7D.

four rps;

ayla's site. .-.

and in total, over ten people constantly whining "REPLY". the only people I'd want to reply to is with ryan, and should I start and RP with Ion/someone interesting.

aaaand for school.

geography project that I will fail.

research for arts&crafts.

and others;

take care of my mum for a while since she'd down with the flu.

go see the doctor lots since he has no idea what's wrong with my ankle.

have football practice five times a week.

work.

take care of my very high maintainence cats.

cook/do the dishes.

clean up.

and some more house chores.

I really don't know how I find time to sleep.

incomplete.

Tue, 18 Mar 2008 16:11:06 GMT

You take over my dreams, each night again and again.
I got the fire, baby, but you're all dead like the gun.
Who're you gonna hit when there's nowhere to run?
Empty bills and scribbled lyrics fall over the streets.

Empty eyes stared at a small paper fluttering over the empty street, empty hands toying with long stemmed red roses and he sniffled, about to crumble into himself and bawl, cry, scream to the world that it wasn’t fair and that it should’ve been him, him! He was the one in the bad family with almost nothing to live for. He was the one that didn’t pay the money needed for the drugs he bought and the coke he sniffed on gleaming dark wooden bar counters, drugs dealers and crack whores watching those now empty, pretty tenor cerulian eyes glaze over as his addiction started to work it’s fullest while his lover sat at home, head in hands, wondering how he could ever pay for his love’s addiction and if he’d be okay.

He was lost in that addiction, and not even Arian knew how to bring him back from it. God knows he tried, he tried everything he could think of, bribes, re-hab clinics, with holding sex, trying to force him off it, but his resolve crumbled in the end and he gave the young male the white powder or green buds of addicting herbs. He always cursed himself after, but when he saw his lover so sad and needing, he couldn’t be cruel. But then again, being so loving had been his down fall in the end, hadn’t it? Cruel world, taking ones that so deserved to live for the compassion and love they give to those that don’t deserve it. But it helps those that don’t deserve it, better themselves, you say? And what about the ones that already deserved it and got bad? Ritual sacrifice for something unworthy. He’d cry and cry over his lover and wait for him to come home, high as a kite and completely out of his mind, wanting and needing but happy, and even if there was a glassy glaze to his eyes, it made Arian happy to see him so lively.

Not like when he hadn’t had his fix. It just broke his heart. Then he was shaking, sniffling, his eyes bloodshot and nervous, wary of even his own shadow. “Kai,” He’d say, his brown, chocolate eyes fixed sympathetically on the addict, as he slunk over to him slowly as not to spook the man like a cornered animal, and the male would whimper, sending a spike of ice cold, searing pain through the younger’s chest. “Kai, baby...” He’d trail off, reaching out a hand to cup that pale face and make the hyper-aware man look into his eyes, placing a kiss on the chapped lips in a loving, sweet gesture that was shunned and pushed away, tears dripping down their faces as they collapsed together, crying for each their reasons, soon forgetting what tears were who’s and their fears and problems drifted away just as long as they could embrace each other’s body, holding it as close as possible as the neighbours shook their heads and wondered how such fine young men would let themselves be ruined as such, making sarcastic, biting comments about the couple, even while when they went to bed as sobs wracked the young men’s bodies, silent tears streamed down their own faces in a melachonic sadness for tainted perfection, and a bitter hate towards drugs bubbled inside them.

They’d see the elder sliding out of the appartment while he left his lover to sleep on the floor where they’d sobbed themselves to sleep, money they didn’t have clutched in his hand, inside his pocket as he slid towards a common drug dealer, once again the man grinning and patting the man’s sunken cheek, greedily accepting the money and pocketing it, handing over the drug he’d picked today for the male, as he’d take anything he could get his thin, long fingers on. The drugs were ‘beautiful’ and ‘a miracle cure’, when asked why he took them, wasted money on them and was addicted to them, but even he himself knew that that as a lie and he was just addicted and couldn’t stop, like the little crack whore he was and he knew he was hurting himself and everyone around him, but he just couldn’t stop, it felt like too much when he didn’t do it and didn’t have any, and it hurt to go without, so every time his resolve crumbled much like his lover’s and he couldn’t help it. Some people were made to see fate, destiny, and the right path to take the hard way. He was one of them, and any one of them could see it.

What's this,
What's this!
I think you need to try right now.
What's this,
What's this!
You try to run away.

He slid over the street, his brim pulled down low to avoid all the dirty, accusing looks and felt the two hundredandfifty dollars crunching hapilly, eager to be spent on drugs, given away, as his clammy hand held onto the tighter, his breathing harsher than normal as he wound through tiny streets, taking a left, and then a right, as if he knew the place like the back of his hand. He did, too. He was farmiliar, he knew where everything and everyone was, merely by the fact of how many times he’d walked those same alleys and roads, turns and how many times he’d slipped into each shop, the drugs enhancing his memory, if only for the trip. He whiped at his nose with his sleeve, a few trickles of blood escaping it where there had been so many straws and drugs snorted through the sensitive passages.

“Mike!” He called, banging on a white plastic door, his hand made into a weak fist, the man in question soon opening the door, taking in the sunken pale cheeks and glossy blue eyes, too thin body and needy posture, the starved hand appearing out of the black leather coat’s pocket with the money to offer it, a tongue flicking over chapped pink lips while he shook and trmebled, his eyes lighting up gratefully as the green bills were snatched and the man beckoned him insde, where a white line of cocaine was waiting for him, on a clean, shining white table, he hastily slipped into the lawn chair set there to make it easier for the druggies. Everyone wanted to have return customers, so they made it comfy for them. Not that they’d notice after they’d snorted their coke or smoked their weed, but who cared? The pale man man leaned forwards, closing his eyes as he bent forwards as he sniffed, snorting up the powder, and giggling a few moments later as it set in, his body feeling like it was free and flying, bending forwards again to snort the rest, sinnking down in his chair, laughing happily, the man shaking his head and looking away.

It was his income, but he still couldn’t stand watching people get high, wasting their money, coming into debt and hurting their precious lovers. It was his money, he always told himself, but he’d never touch it himself, never use it. He’d seen what it did to people and their loved ones, and he didn’t wish it on anyone, yet if they did it to themselves, who was he to deny them what they wanted to have? No one, that’s who. He sometimes wanted to take this man into his arms, not in the way of a lover, but a friend, and slowly ween him off the addiction. He wondered often who the man’s lover was, the man he babbled on about happily once fully high, telling him all about their life and how much he loved the man. ‘Why do you hurt him then?’ A frown knotted thin eyebrows together as the male made grand gestures and talked and talked about nonsense, smiling and grinning as only an addict could. It made him sympathise with the lover. He was sure the man hurt a lot, too much even.

“Oi, Kai.” He raised a brow at the figure draped over the back of the plastic chair, onto the wooden table, giggling to himself in the bare, white room, the feet swinging merrily as he closed his eyes and yawned, the eyes bloodshot and blood trickling out of his nose in a higher dosage than before, creating a tiny lake on the table, and a river leading to it from his left nostril, over his top lip and down his chin, dripping off there, making a tiny splash in the dark crimson puddle, growing larger every drip, tiny particals of dust floating around the air, a rare few falling down and landing on the blood, making little, tiny ripples on the shining surface. “Yeah?” Came the drowsy answer, a dark eyebrow cocking up in response to the call. “Why do you do it? Hurt him like this.” The dealer frowned again, eager to hear the response and to know the answer. He himself would never be able to do it and he knew it. He loved his girlfriend too much, but he knew he’d never be able to hurt a man, either. He wasn’t supposed to be scared of anything, the addict knew, but he knew they couldn’t help him, because no one knew he couldn’t help it. So that’s exactly what he told the male, who sent a sad, sad look in his direction.

So, you, boy sliding away from reality.
You remind me of someone I used to hate!
We're all screaming, "He's gone!"
But guess what!? He's not fucking gone!

It was his fault. His, and only his, harsh words in his mind whispered over, and over to him, doubles and triples, more and more until he lost count of it all and felt like screaming and shouting and he wanted to tell them to stop staring at him and that they had to stop whispering among each other because it felt like a knife in his heart again, every time their accusing, prejudice eyes landed on his drug ruined body still clinging to dear life and sober air as his mind and heart craved for the drugs to numb his thoughts and loneliness. He really didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to take it. It was a sad affair, a small whisper reached his ears as the people thought he couldn’t hear them. So sad... Such a shame... They could’ve had so much better... He wanted to go over there and strangle them, tell them to stop talking about him and his lover in that way, that they had feelings and a hearing ability. He wasn’t some emotionless zombie, just because he’d been an addict.

But his lover’s family couldn’t and wouldn’t understand it, and would never change their mind that it was his fault and they’d continue to talk between themselves about how ugly it was and how he was worth nothing and it should have been him, not their perfect, lovely son. Faceless shapes seemed to crowd around him and his cold, needy mind was starting to break to peices with paranoia. It felt like they were crowding in on his with murderous intent. A scream fell from his slightly fuller lips, attracting attention from the love’s family, the only people besides him there. It repeated it’s self again and again as his sorrow finally found his outlet, a few of the cousins breaking away from their wives, childeren and parents to glide over wordlessly and pick him up, taking him out back with cruel expressions, dumping him there and whiping their hands, disgusted. They’d loved their cousin, too. It took more than hours before someone actually came, the man’s brother, who apparently saw the attraction the brother had seen, even in the wrapper of a drug adidct, cradling the broken man’s head to his chest and he sobbed and screamed his weak lungs out in pain for the lost lover.

“Shhh, shhh.” He shooted, stroking over rough, unkempt hair, running his perfectly manicured hands through it, a few tears of his own sliding down the healthy tanned face, over the strong jawline and into the dull hair. He tried to imagine the man with shining locks and he just couldn’t. It wouldn’t suit his current type, and he closed his eyes. He could see the man with shining locks and healthy, strong muscles and shining loving eyes. Yet, when he did that, a sight of him with his brother came into the picture and he felt the man twitch in his arms as if he could sense the vision, and it jaded him deeply. Were anyone to come past at that precise moment, they’d see the two adults clinging to life, hanging by a thread, from going insane from loosing a loved one. A loss counted heavily, and the person would go over to them and bend down, frowning and asking them if they needed any help, before taking a glance at the previous addict and sneering in disgust, drawing the conclusion the other was like that, too, and leaving with a haste only known in the prejudice in this day and age.

Whether fortunately, or unfortunately, no one came by and no one judged them, they just sat there for hours, sobbing into each other before getting up and parting their ways without a single word of thank you or be well, yet neither seemed to mind and it was like a silent vow to never tell, as they slid back to the ceremony to sit down, on opposite sides of the room, the cruel people assuming they’d just gone to private places to cry out their grief so they wouldn’t disturb anything while the father said his words. No one seemed to notice or care how they both had the same type of flower, a black lily, in their hands to throw down, from dragging themselves by a rare flower store on their way around the building and finding the flowers just fitting to the man. “It was a sad tragedy.” The healthy male whispered so low no one could hear it, yet the male on the other side of the room perked up in a stunned suprise as soon as he pressed his lips together again.

He's part of you[/×5]

The brother was named named Mike, coincidentally, yet he was in a much different line of work, repairing broken equipment, he’d grown up very closely to his younger brother, taking care of him and looking out for him whenever he could, playing the part of the big brother with a reckless abandon that almost turned out terribly wrong many a time, yet was always saved and turned right once he told their even older brother, who sorted everything out for them with a snap of his fingers, each one of the brothers loving one another. Mike had hoped Kai would take good care of his baby brother when he’d first seen him, and it pained even him to see the addiction come to stance, yet it pained him more to see his brother go by such a foolish mistake and way. He just wished he could’ve stopped it or sacrificed himself. He would, any day and any night, no matter what and who, for his love or the male was just that great.

The same man who’d spoken about the shame was his father. A man, often not around the house but still caring and concerned for his sons, he’d disapproved of the boy’s homosexual confession, and even more of his lover of choice. The thing he wanted most was to marry all his sons off to nice girls and have them have lots of childeren and nice lives. Bitter, and angry he’d become after seeing everything his sons turned out to be, yet he couldn’t help the waves of sorrow and grief when the news of his youngest son’s death hit him, making his knees weak and his voice hoarse, tears streaming over even his own face, the face that had become a poker face after all those years slipped and broke by the news of such a dark, sorry tragedy and all he’d wanted was to wring the boy’s neck, who was at fault, and have the same happen to the male, but with much, much more pain for being so stupid, so bad and uncaring.

At his work they’d held a private rememberance, all the employees and regulars of the chinese take-out holding their minute of silence for the sweet young man’s death, sad, light frowns on their faces for the day before and the day after, and not as much so the day after that. Murmers of ‘he’s better off dead and without that boy’ passed their lips when they saw any of the others feel bad and firm nods answered those soft words, hatred of the elder boy developing fast and wicked in their slight, unknowing minds, unawares of his deep rooted sorrow, of him screaming out his fragile lungs and sobbing out his weak heart, all the blood he spilled from his own body to try and get his lover back if he just tortured himself enough to make someone up in heaven spare him a glance. But of course, none of them would. Maybe someone down there would be praying on him and posses his knife soon, he begged.

He was serious when he prayed, life seeming to hold completely nothing for him anymore, now he saw what he’d done and he’d quit drugs, life seemed empty and shallow without his lover, filled with regret and the knowledge that he should have stopped sooner and should have been smarter than that. But hindsight was a wonderful thing, wasn’t it? Like dropping your aunt’s cristal decanther and soon after wishing you’d never picked it up like she’d said you couldn’t. Easier said than done. He’d do anything to have the man back, anything at all, but again, no matter to that. It really is a sad game when the innocent loose, though. Even more so when the sinners still walk and even if they don’t smile, they live. Makes one wonder, who does all of this? Who takes care of it and makes the desicions? It makes one want to scream and cry and demand an explenation that’ll never come. Even if they’ve been there from the start, they still didn’t deserve it. They gave their heart away, because the world couldn’t throw them anything better. And never would be able to, because that lover is heaven on earth and you want to ask them, why didn’t they save them, if they love them so much?

But it’s something easier said than done, isn’t it? When you look at someone and they look back, in such a way that makes your heart break, anyone would give in, for better and for worse. The ugly pain is worth the momentary gain, when you see their eyes light up and cloud and the world just doesn’t understand you or them, it makes you sick to your stomach.

What's this,
What's this!
I think you need to try right now.
What's this,
What's this!
You try to run away.

Arian ran a hand through his gorgeous dyed red hair, turning more blond as it went further up, and more black as it went further down, his roots growing through and a previous dye still in. He loved having it like that. Why, even he didn’t know. He ran his hand through it, again, sitting crosslegged on the floor, bent forwards over a bunch of papers spread out on the worn dark blue carpet. They were bills and bank statements, threatening letters they’d take everything the two had if they didn’t pay their debts back to the bank, other letters from drugdealers and gangsters that they’d come to give his precious Kai a pair of extra elbows and a few beatings with it. His mind and heart worried about what would happen if he still dind’t have the money after that, and the addiction was there to stay, he was sure. Taking was just much too easy, but that’s the way it was.

Big, clear, sad tears started to drip from the corner of his bright blue eyes, and he sniffled, rubbing at it in a way similar to the way his lover had done exactly the same thing. For once, he had no idea how to fix it. And it was worrying him to no extent. He couldn’t focus with his lover out there, somewhere, unsafe. His heart felt heavy as he dropped his hands onto the carpet, the cristilline tears dropped onto the dark blue carpet, turning it a mocking almost black. He dragged himself forwards on his hands and knees, no pain in the world being able to overpower the pain in his head as a fresh, pounding, screaming migraine stepped forwards to make it’s aqqaintances. His mind screamed to him that he knew, he juts wanted to feel beautiful, for once in his life. Beautiful... He squeezed his eyes shut once more, biting down on worn lips, drawing fine little cristals of deep, red, dark crimson blood out of the flesh that should mean so much more to his lover. He mentally cursed, breathing in sharp, heavy pants, clutching at his head, not feeling strong enough to get his morphine, not being able to get his cure as he heard the door unlock and open with a mockingly deafening click. It hurt ever so much. He felt like he could die.

“Kai...?” He called out, weakly, as the man in question bounced in happily, loudly shouting his lover’s name and tackling him, making him hit the back of his head on the headboard. “Kai, baby...” He frowned, rubbing his head, his voice a little raspy as he requested for the male to get him some morphine, to help him out of the pained misery that was taking over him. He gently pushed at the man’s shoulders, trying to catch the addict’s attention, only succeeding to get a two second attention span. “Kai, if you could just get me some morphine...” It seemed to click in the boy’s head what was wrong and he nodded, bouncing off on his high to raid the bathroom cupboard for the much desired morphine. Arian flinced again as a crash was heard from the direction of the bathroom and mentally reminded himself to clean it up once his migraine had gone. It’d have to go and go fast, now Kai was home /and/ high.

He closed his eyes for a second as a dim orange bottle was held before him a thin, pale hand. Much too pale and thin for his liking, he conceded. He peered at the pills inside the bottle and wondered if this was what Kai felt everytime he needed the drugs. Did it hurt him, make him feel like liguid fire was burning through his viens, more and more each day that he coullsn’t have it? He laughed, a little bitterly. Then he couldn’t blame Kai. Not that he ever did, to start with. Kai had him right where he wasnted him. He had Arian wrapped right around his little finger. Not that he knew, of course. But Arian knew. Oh, he knew very well. And he could do as much about it as he could about the damned migraines that took him over more and more every day.

Whine in the nighttime and scream against the bathroom door.
He's haunting you, he's fucking you.
He's taking you all for himself.
Fool me like an ordinary boy.

The male cleared his throat, his black suit feeling strange on his lithe, too thin body, as drops fell again and again onto the papers in his hands, he stood up, walking to make a speech, yet it was more for himself and his lover than the people there, and he didn’t expect them to like the way he’d written and told it, nor what he was telling, but he didn’t care. It was for the two of them, not everyone here. Everyone here didn’t matter because his lover was dead and it was his fault, and he had to apologise, and if this was the only way, he didn’t care about being frowned upon by everyone in the vacinity. He cleared his throat, as the brother he’d spoken to sta neer the front, smiling at him a sad yet encouraging smile.

“That person... Always succeeds in making me upset. And tears are dripping down my face, while I try to see what I’m typing, trying to act happy to my best friend, but she’s so far away. She can’t see me crying, she can’t know that I just grabbed my phone and it was a text message from that person that they don’t care. That they hate me. I sob, again, pressing my fingers to my lips. He makes me a sad, nervous wreck, while Paramore plays quietly in the background, whispering crush, crush, crush. He crushed my heart and the tears have finally stopped streaming as I remind myself why exactly I don’t need him. Sadly, there are precious few reasons and the salty liquid streams again, stinging my cheeks and I choke, telling my best friend that I’ll be right back, and run outside.

And I see a man, that looks so much like the boy that keeps breaking my heart, driving me to drugs and alchohol, helping my addiction progress, while music and numbness proceeds to be my only comfort, he’s outside every time I run out crying. Nothing compared to a quiet evening alone, crying and running, and falling into that person’s arms. Nothing but floating with my head in the clouds and forgetting why I even need each and every reason. He’s so beautiful, I see. His hair falls like an angel’s and his smile in heaven on earth. And best of all, he says he’s mine, all mine and no one else will ever have him, and it makes me cry, because I have so much to say to him, to confess and tell him he doesn’t want me, doesn’t need some crackwhore, fucked-up broke adult to ruin his football-player life that can get him a lovely wife and trophy kids, that can get him everywhere, but I’d rather pretened I’m good enough for him to ever love me, than leave him.

I force myself to sing along, “lock and load baby don’t you know, now, we’re all alone, I need something to sing about.” In my shaky, worthless cracked voice, my body shaking with my sobs while more tears stream down my face again. I’d almost thought I’d ran out of tears, that evening, when I didn’t cry as he texted me calling me a whore, and then I ran outside to tell you everything, and you weren’t there, and I discovered what it’s like, to find out you can never run out of tears. I needed to die. I needed to not bother the world and to not bother you and I was so happy every time I saw you. But here’s the deal, he always texted at eight at night. You’d gotten used to that, and when he texted before work, at six instead of eight, you didn’t know it and when you stood on my porch from eight ‘till eight thirty, you came in, and I’d been crying for two hours straight, my eyes so bloodshot and me in general just a mess. And you still gathered me together and asked if I’d be your boyfriend and I cried even more, in happiness, and nodded my worthless head and you kissed me.

I couldn’t help my fall into addiction, I swear I wished then and I wish now I could have stopped it all, but I was too far into it for even an angel like you to be able to help me. I know it worried you so much and I’m so sorry. I loved you then and I love you now. I wish it had been me, instead. Our home life wasn’t that great and I was selfish. It was killing you like that and I just went too far and too much and it was all my fault! I wish it had been me. But my last words are that I’m so sorry for everything I’ve ever done to you, and I’m so sorry about how I’d ruined your life. If I’d told you everything you needed to know at the start, you’d have turned away and this would never have happened. I love you. Rest in peace, my love.”

He finished, wiping the tears away from his eyes that blurred the scribbled words as the room hesitantly clapped before the applause burst out, each pair of eyes turning more sympathetically to his form now, as he slunk towards the eldest brother and curled up in the chair next to him, clutching the paper and his lover’s favorite little plushie to his chest as he sobbed into it, his comfort. It was his comfort. It meant the world to him right now because it had been /his/ and it smelt like /him/ and fresh tears.

You're such a damn narcissist,
And you dare to touch me with those hands!?
Egoistic psycho poetry,
Rape me with those hands.

His hands were sliding over a sun kissed chest, he was worshipping it with his whole being, his whole body, each fiber, each molecule of his being concentrated and enclosed to the sculpted being that lay before him, sprawled out on their bed in a way which Kai was sure would seduce any and all man and woman. His neck bent as he leaned down to press a kiss over where the healthy strong heart beat – and he knew it beat only for him and always would. He never could shake the thought off, that Arian belonged to him and only him, for evermore. He felt like he didn’t deserve it, wasn’t high or grand enough. Light caramel hands lifted his chin to bring his lips to their lush counterparts. Arian deserved someone like a prince or some kind of royalty, he’d always thought. He could never give all his lover deserved, not in a million years – because he deserved the world and all that was in it.

What's this,
what's this,
There's a line of destruction down my neck!
What's this,
What's this,
My chest is caving in!

What's all of this...?
My breathing's starting to fail...
What're all of you...?
You steal all my breath!

Touching, feeling, holding, you're my boyfriend, you're my brother,
You're my lover, you're my lover.
Take me over,
He took you over.

.Kiss and control.

Mon, 10 Mar 2008 12:25:47 GMT

Paw notes;;
+ Last updated will be by dutch time.
+ I love Chemistry.about.com. I wouldn’t have been able to make the Akumetsu/human blood/body build up without it, I think.
+ He belongs to me.
+ Last updated 22 Feb. 08
+ Akumetsu taken from that one manga.

Name: Kakei Hinomachi [ Kah-kajh Hee-noh-mah-chee. ]
Alias: Nitemare Ryder. [ Nyte-mehr Rai-der. ]
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Date of Birth: Jan 2 1985
Zodiac Sign: Capricorn (Ox)
Blood Type: B
Place of Birth: Taipei
Nationality: Taiwaneese
Current Residence: Black Order HQ; England
Height: 5”8
Weight: 140
Body type: Slender
Hair: Pale Green
Eyes: Blue
Weapon of choice: Innocence/Akiamy
Occupation: Experiment 07656 (Exorcist)

+++++++++++++++++

Personality: Kakei is mainly quiet, hanging around the park more often than not, he enjoys observing. He tries to practice being one step ahead of everyone. He tries to predict when they’ll drop something, when they’ll do something, anything. He tries to anticipate their moves. He works most nights, looking for Akumetsu whereever he is sent by any of the lab masters. He does what he’s asked without protest. He is nothing if not completely and utterly obedient.
His life revolves around observation, dedication and extermination.

Background: The creation of him started on Jan 1, 1984. That day they caught a level four Akumetsu. They’d captured it and sealed it into a soundproof room lined with Innocence. They found out that if they fed a vapor of cyanic chloride into the air in the room, the Akumetsu wold pass out for a limited amount of time. Using that time, they started to work on their latest experiment, Experiment 7656. Of the previous experiments they had a total of 274 living specimens left. Experimenting had started in 1876 by the leader of the Black Order, with Experiment 00001. Experiment 00001 had been the trying to fester the captured spirit of an exoricised Akumetsu into a hand made doll. The spirit festered and became a literal killing machine before being hanged and burned, the ashes scattered.

Almost all experiments of that kind had failed until they got to Experiment 00089. They were trying to place a spirit into a human when the spirit backlashed at them, effectively destroying Phosphorus in over half the research team’s bodies, causing them instant death. After research they discovered that Akumetsu weren’t, and would never be compatible with the Phosphorus in a human’s body.

After that they gave up trying to fester spirits and concentrated on making a chemical that would enhance the Exorcists’ Innocence. Experiments 00090 to 00174 were destroyed this way until they discovered that, in the human body it was the Magnesium in a human’s body that contained the Innocence, and that humans could only handle so much Innocence before it cancelled out the Magnesium and resulted in instant death.

After that, they gave up experimenting until in 1907 a new leader suggested trying to enhance the Exorcists’ abilities to search out Akumetsus. To their dismay they were once again forced to leave it after searching Experiment 00357’s body to find the ability to search them lowered the amount of Nitrogen in the human body.

Experiments 00358 to 006572 were all killed in such ways over the years in various countries spread world wide, for similar reasons, until the capture of the level four Akumetsu. They started experimenting again, withdrawing large amounts of the Akumetsu’s blood as it was unconsious, and taking large samples of it’s flesh, trying to find out how they were pieced together.

Their shock was large to find that where a human’s blood and body consisted of;;
- Oxygen (65%)
- Carbon (18%)
- Hydrogen (10%)
- Nitrogen (3%)
- Calcium (1.5%)
- Phosphorus (1.0%)
- Potassium (0.35%)
- Sulfur (0.25%)
- Sodium (0.15%)
- Magnesium (0.05%)
- Copper, Zinc, Selenium, Molybdenum, Fluorine, Chlorine, Iodine, Manganese, Cobalt, Iron (0.70%)
- Lithium, Strontium, Aluminum, Silicon, Lead, Vanadium, Arsenic, Bromine (trace amounts)

A Akumetsu’s blood and body consisted of the mollecules of;;

- Yttrium (65%)
- Ununpentium (18%)
- Xenon (10%)
- Manganese (3%)
- Scandium (1.5%)
- Thallium (1.0%)
- Potassium (0.35%)
- Cobalt (0.25%)
- Bismuth (0.15.%)
- Cadmium (0.05%)
- Copper, Zinc, Selenium, Molybdenum, Fluorine, Chlorine, Iodine, Iron, Iridium, Molybdenum (0.70%)
- Lithium, Strontium, Aluminum, Silicon, Lead, Vanadium, Arsenic, Bromine (Trace Amounts)

Needless to say they were shocked at the amount of vaporous metals in the Akumetsu’s body and blood, earning them the name “Steel Akumetsus”.

The experiments they made after they found this went well up to a certain point where their bodies couldn’t adapt to the metals in the Akumetsu’s body. Thus Experiments 006753 – 007599 were destroyed. They’d either go crazy or become horribly mutated as their blood boiled under their skin, itching and burning to get out. Eventually each had to be humanely uthanized, in the end.

After the death of Experiment 007599, they decided it would not work on adults – thus starting to use children. Since children had – and have – a higher level of Innocence, they thought it wuold work better, yet the results were only worse. Discolorment, disfigurement and horribly mutated growthspurts were the result. They wasted 12 Experiments on this.

Finding that didn’t work they started to try and make a half breed Akumetsu-Human – out of Innocence. They tried adults first, yet their bodies couldn’t handle the Innocence being wathdrawn and died before the Innocence could be taken from their blood. Three Experiments were wasted on this.

Once again, they turned to children, who, granted, were weaker. Yet they survived better and they slowly found a method to gather the Innocence sucsessfully. They wasted another twelve Experiments figuring this way out. They were on Experiment 007626 by then. They used another three Experiments to figure out how to make it solid, and another twentysix to gather the needed Innocence.

On Experiment 007656, the Innocence mixed with the Akumetsu’s blood and the added components, creating their first ever completely succesfull Experiment. Thus Kakei Shun was created as a small, tiny child. The day after it was finished they decided to do it again, drugging the captive Akumetsu constantly. They trusted the Akumetsu would stay unconcious and had no one gaurding it. They had not anticipated the Akumetsu’s being to adapt to the cyanic chloride. Angry, scarred and mutated, the Akumetsu broke out of the room through a small glass window, destroying most of the research team in it’s blind rage before an Exorcist arrived and destroyed it.

More on Exorcists: Each Exorcist has a code name, and is called by that whenever they are at work, and never when they are not at work. Kakei’s is, as seen “Nitemare Ryder.” Each human being has an amount of magnesium in their blood. Magnesium in the blood carries a thing called Innocence. A normal human would have – as the magnesium is 0.05% of the blood – an amount of Innocence as 0.05% of the blood. Exorcists have 0.05% to 0.10% Innocence in the blood. More than 0.10% Innocence would, technically, kill them. Exorcists are usually a genetic thing. Exorcists are usually recruted at a young age as then they still have about 0.06% for a regular child, and the max amount of 0.10% of Innocence in one with Exorcist potential. They are taken young, because, the earlier they start training, the larger the chance that their level of Innocence stays high. Each goes through an individual training to maximize their potential. Some are trained in fighting with their innocence – some with their weapons – and some are trained to search with their innocence. Some are taught something entirely different.

More on Innocence: Innocence is carried in a human’s blood. As said, exorcists have more innocence than the regular humans. No one really knows the how and why of innocence. In simple blood tests, innocence can not be seen. Only in contrast to a copper, can it be found, which declares why exactly regular scientists have never found the innocence. Innocence s like a vapor in the magnesium in a human’s blood. It will always stay there, unless it is removed by a scientist of the Black Order,

Innocence is like a small, glowing blue sphere when in a ‘solid form’. Solid said sceptically as it more a glowing sphere of material mass, then a solid something. Innocence is used to track down Akuma, but can also be used to fight.

In the fighting with Innocence, it is either calling upon from within the body in a series of complicated chants. Not many exorcists can master this to a high level, thus they cannot make use of their full potential. In it’s solid form, innocence can be blendded into the steel of a weapon while having it made. Only the scientists are able to blend it properly.

More on The Black Order: The Black Order is a league of exorcists. No one knows when it was founded or by who. It's just always been there. Not much is known, not even by the exorcists that are in employ. They just recieve orders and carry them out.

More on Akumetsu: Akumetsu are a strange type of what the ‘normals’ would call a demon. Starting with the appearance, all Akumetsu are tanned race that are taller than most humans. Rare is the man that can succeed in towering over them. Their hair can vary from all shades that are in current existance. Their main trademark are the sharp, lavender tinted teeth and fangs, and the bright, violet eyes. Naturally they have dark purple nails that are worn over three inches long, yet most of them file them down and claim the color as nail polish. Across their limbs and back, there is an intricate pattern of dark purple scales. These markings depict their power, status, family and wealth. No one but other Akumetsu is known to understand these up to now. Their pesonality is usually fake when they are around normals, acting like everyday people. Most, when confronting their prey are quite creul. Some though are still as they usually act. Akumetsu do not have Sulfur in their body. Proven to them is that childeren have more Sulfur than adults. More precisely, the life force that Sulfur carries. As Akumetsu do not have this life force themselves, they tend to prey on childeren. Most time when one human claims to have seen a ‘vampire’, they have seen one of the many Akumetsu that prefer to drain their prey’s life force directly from where it is strongest; the neck. Other that have claimed to have seen a ‘werewolf’, have seen one of the fewer, more violent Akumetsu. These Akumetsu prefer to rip their prey to peices, claiming it tastes better with fear. Some claims to have seen ghost, specters, and such. These are the outcasts of the Akumetsu society. They have been cats out and thus their appearance and body has been stripped of them. They drain humans and childeren, batteries and anything they can get near to try and gather enough life force to become a proper Akumetsu again. Most of these outcasts have malicious intent. Some though – very few – have good intent. One is highly advised to attempt to help these outcasts back into a proper Akumetsu as they will be proteted for life. It is not recomended to search for them, though, as the ones with malicious intent shall take advantedge and then, when regaining a material form, drain the human of their life force, and blood. The only way to be rid of an Akumetsu is by Innocence*. Cyanic chloride is known to knock it out for a while, but it’s body adjusts after a while and it becomes a mindless killing machine.

*See “More in Innoncence.”

LEVEL 0:

LEVEL 1:

LEVEL 2:

LEVEL 3:

LEVEL 4:

Attire:

Weapon/s:

Strengths:

Weaknesses:

Likes:

Dislikes:

Favorite food:

Least favorite food:

Bad habits:

Quote:

+++++++++++++++++

Family:

+++++++++++++++++

Relationships:

+++++++++++++++++

Love:

+++++++++++++++++

Theme Song:

Electrolicious electrolicious
Electrolicious electrolicious
Electrolicious electrolicious

It is electric
It's fantastic
that automatic
it is electrolicious

It is electric
It's fantastic
It's automatic
it is electrolicious

It is electric
It's fantastic
that automatic
it is electrolicious

It is electric
It's fantastic
It's automatic
it is electrolicious

Electrolicious electrolicious
Electrolicious electrolicious

It ain't? It is!
We're passionate
suckin' in the beat
feel what's to create
nothing left half-finished
nothing left half-finished

Electrolicious electrolicious
Electrolicious electrolicious

It ain't? It is!
We're passionate
suckin' in the beat
feel what's to create
nothing left half-finished
nothing left half-finished

Electrolicious electrolicious
Electrolicious electrolicious

It is electric
It's fantastic
That automatic
it is electrolicious

It is electric
It's fantastic
That automatic
it is electrolicious

It is electric
It's fantastic
It's automatic
it is electrolicious

It is electric
It's fantastic
That automatic
it is electrolicious

It ain't? It is!
We're passionate
suckin' in the beat
feel what's to create
nothing left half-finished
nothing left half-finished

It is electric
It's fantastic
It's automatic
it is electrolicious

It is electric
It's fantastic
It's automatic
it is electrolicious

Kakei

Tue, 26 Feb 2008 18:27:39 GMT

Paw notes;;

+ Last updated will be by dutch time.

+ I love Chemistry.about.com. I wouldn’t have been able to make the Akumetsu/human blood/body build up without it, I think.

+ He belongs to me.

+ Last updated 22 Feb. 08

+ Akumetsu taken from that one manga.

Name: Kakei Hinomachi [ Kah-kajh Hee-noh-mah-chee. ]
Alias: Nitemare Ryder. [ Nyte-mehr Rai-der. ]
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Date of Birth: Jan 2 1985
Zodiac Sign: Capricorn (Ox)
Blood Type: B
Place of Birth: Taipei
Nationality: Taiwaneese
Current Residence: Black Order HQ; England
Height: 5”8
Weight: 140
Body type: Slender
Hair: Black/blue
Eyes: Blue
Weapon of choice: Innocence/Akiamy
Occupation: Experiment 07656 (Exorcist)

+++++++++++++++++

Personality: Kakei is mainly quiet, hanging around the park more often than not, he enjoys observing. He tries to practice being one step ahead of everyone. He tries to predict when they’ll drop something, when they’ll do something, anything. He tries to anticipate their moves. He works most nights, looking for Akumetsu whereever he is sent by any of the lab masters. He does what he’s asked without protest. He is nothing if not completely and utterly obedient.

His life revolves around observation, dedication and extermination.

Background: The creation of him started on Jan 1, 1984. That day they caught a level four Akumetsu. They’d captured it and sealed it into a soundproof room lined with Innocence. They found out that if they fed a vapor of cyanic chloride into the air in the room, the Akumetsu wold pass out for a limited amount of time. Using that time, they started to work on their latest experiment, Experiment 7656. Of the previous experiments they had a total of 0 living specimens left. Experimenting had started in 1876 by the leader of the Black Order, with Experiment 00001. Experiment 00001 had been the trying to fester the captured spirit of an exoricised Akumetsu into a hand made doll. The spirit festered and became a literal killing machine before being hanged and burned, the ashes scattered.

Almost all experiments of that kind had failed until they got to Experiment 00089. They were trying to place a spirit into a human when the spirit backlashed at them, effectively destroying Phosphorus in over half the research team’s bodies, causing them instant death. After research they discovered that Akumetsu weren’t, and would never be compatible with the Phosphorus in a human’s body.

After that they gave up trying to fester spirits and concentrated on making a chemical that would enhance the Exorcists’ Innocence. Experiments 00090 to 00174 were destroyed this way until they discovered that, in the human body it was the Magnesium in a human’s body that contained the Innocence, and that humans could only handle so much Innocence before it cancelled out the Magnesium and resulted in instant death.

After that, they gave up experimenting until in 1907 a new leader suggested trying to enhance the Exorcists’ abilities to search out Akumetsus. To their dismay they were once again forced to leave it after searching Experiment 00357’s body to find the ability to search them lowered the amount of Nitrogen in the human body.

Experiments 00358 to 006572 were all killed in such ways over the years in various countries spread world wide, for similar reasons, until the capture of the level four Akumetsu. They started experimenting again, withdrawing large amounts of the Akumetsu’s blood as it was unconsious, and taking large samples of it’s flesh, trying to find out how they were pieced together.

Their shock was large to find that where a human’s blood and body consisted of;;

- Oxygen (65%)

- Carbon (18%)

- Hydrogen (10%)

- Nitrogen (3%)

- Calcium (1.5%)

- Phosphorus (1.0%)

- Potassium (0.35%)

- Sulfur (0.25%)

- Sodium (0.15%)

- Magnesium (0.05%)

- Copper, Zinc, Selenium, Molybdenum, Fluorine, Chlorine, Iodine, Manganese, Cobalt, Iron (0.70%)

- Lithium, Strontium, Aluminum, Silicon, Lead, Vanadium, Arsenic, Bromine (trace amounts)

A Akumetsu’s blood and body consisted of the mollecules of;;

- Yttrium (65%)

- Ununpentium (18%)

- Xenon (10%)

- Manganese (3%)

- Scandium (1.5%)

- Thallium (1.0%)

- Potassium (0.35%)

- Cobalt (0.25%)

- Bismuth (0.15.%)

- Cadmium (0.05%)

- Copper, Zinc, Selenium, Molybdenum, Fluorine, Chlorine, Iodine, Iron, Iridium, Molybdenum (0.70%)

- Lithium, Strontium, Aluminum, Silicon, Lead, Vanadium, Arsenic, Bromine (Trace Amounts)

Needless to say they were shocked at the amount of vaporous metals in the Akumetsu’s body and blood, earning them the name “Steel Akumetsus”.

The experiments they made after they found this went well up to a certain point where their bodies couldn’t adapt to the metals in the Akumetsu’s body. Thus Experiments 006753 – 007599 were destroyed. They’d either go crazy or become horribly mutated as their blood boiled under their skin, itching and burning to get out. Eventually each had to be humanely uthanized, in the end.

After the death of Experiment 007599, they decided it would not work on adults – thus starting to use children. Since children had – and have – a higher level of Innocence, they thought it wuold work better, yet the results were only worse. Discolorment, disfigurement and horribly mutated growthspurts were the result. They wasted 12 Experiments on this.

Finding that didn’t work they started to try and make a half breed Akumetsu-Human – out of Innocence. They tried adults first, yet their bodies couldn’t handle the Innocence being wathdrawn and died before the Innocence could be taken from their blood. Three Experiments were wasted on this.

Once again, they turned to children, who, granted, were weaker. Yet they survived better and they slowly found a method to gather the Innocence sucsessfully. They wasted another twelve Experiments figuring this way out. They were on Experiment 007626 by then. They used another three Experiments to figure out how to make it solid, and another twentysix to gather the needed Innocence.

On Experiment 007656, the Innocence mixed with the Akumetsu’s blood and the added components, creating their first ever completely succesfull Experiment. Thus Kakei Shun was created as a small, tiny child. The day after it was finished they decided to do it again, drugging the captive Akumetsu constantly. They trusted the Akumetsu would stay unconcious and had no one gaurding it. They had not anticipated the Akumetsu’s being to adapt to the cyanic chloride. Angry, scarred and mutated, the Akumetsu broke out of the room through a small glass window, destroying most of the research team in it’s blind rage before an Exorcist arrived and destroyed it.

More on Exorcists: Each Exorcist has a code name, and is called by that whenever they are at work, and never when they are not at work. Kakei’s is, as seen “Nitemare Ryder.” Each human being has an amount of magnesium in their blood. Magnesium in the blood carries a thing called Innocence. A normal human would have – as the magnesium is 0.05% of the blood – an amount of Innocence as 0.05% of the blood. Exorcists have 0.05% to 0.10% Innocence in the blood. More than 0.10% Innocence would, technically, kill them. Exorcists are usually a genetic thing. Exorcists are usually recruted at a young age as then they still have about 0.06% for a regular child, and the max amount of 0.10% of Innocence in one with Exorcist potential. They are taken young, because, the earlier they start training, the larger the chance that their level of Innocence stays high. Each goes through an individual training to maximize their potential. Some are trained in fighting with their innocence – some with their weapons – and some are trained to search with their innocence. Some are taught something entirely different.

More on Innocence: Innocence is carried in a human’s blood. As said, exorcists have more innocence than the regular humans. No one really knows the how and why of innocence. In simple blood tests, innocence can not be seen. Only in contrast to a copper, can it be found, which declares why exactly regular scientists have never found the innocence. Innocence s like a vapor in the magnesium in a human’s blood. It will always stay there, unless it is removed by a scientist of the Black Order,

Innocence is like a small, glowing blue sphere when in a ‘solid form’. Solid said sceptically as it more a glowing sphere of material mass, then a solid something. Innocence is used to track down Akuma, but can also be used to fight.

In the fighting with Innocence, it is either calling upon from within the body in a series of complicated chants. Not many exorcists can master this to a high level, thus they cannot make use of their full potential. In it’s solid form, innocence can be blendded into the steel of a weapon while having it made. Only the scientists are able to blend it properly.

More on The Black Order: The Black Order is a league of exorcists. No one knows when it was founded or by who. It's just always been there. Not much is known, not even by the exorcists that are in employ. They just recieve orders and carry them out.

More on Akumetsu: Akumetsu are a

LEVEL 0:

LEVEL 1:

LEVEL 2:

LEVEL 3:

LEVEL 4:

Attire:

Weapon/s:

Strengths:

Weaknesses:

Likes:

Dislikes:

Favorite food:

Least favorite food:

Bad habits:

Quote:
+++++++++++++++++

Family:

+++++++++++++++++

Relationships:

+++++++++++++++++

Love:

+++++++++++++++++

Theme Song: [ Bullets and Bandaids ;; Can’t remember who wrote it. Lulz. This is temp anyway. ]

Like bullets and bandaids I’ll always be around

Like a net and a problem

I’ll catch you when you’re falling down

And like silver spring I will always be yours

While you’re closing windows I’m opening doors

And when you are dreaming

I’m watching you sleep

Baby you’re the switchblade that I just can’t keep.

And there’s a faint scent

Of suicide on your breath

There’s a line of destruction

Running down your neck

There’s a hell bent of worry

Building up in your chest

And I don’t know what to do

These words are killing me not you

Like bullets and bandaids I’ll always be around

Like a net and a problem

I’ll catch you when you’re falling down

And like silver spring I will always be yours

While you’re closing windows I’m opening doors

And when you are dreaming

I’m watching you sleep

Baby you’re the switchblade that I just can’t keep.

And I don’t know what to do

These words are killing you

Run a knife through my life

And a comb through my hair

Burn out all my memories

Act like you’re not there

And there’s a faint scent

Of suicide on my breath

There’s a line of destruction

Running down my neck

There’s a hell bent of worry

Building up in my chest

And you don’t know what to do

These words are killing me not you

The smoke is burning I can’t see

We’re forgetting how to breathe

Give me oxygen

Give me all that you’ve got

Tell me what we’ve lost

I’ll tell you what we’ve got

And there’s a strong stench

Of suicide on your breath

There’s a crack of destruction

Running down your neck

There’s an avalanche of worry

Building up in your chest

And we don’t know to do

These words are killing you

Now I know it’s alright

To resuscitate my life

I know its okay

To let the past blow away

And there’s a faint sent

Of success on my breath

There’s a line of creation

Running down my neck

There’s a lot of relief

Building up in my chest

And now I know what to do

Pity you didn’t know too

Sun, 24 Feb 2008 12:09:43 GMT

Oh. Don't I feel stupid?

Really, who needs enemies when you have friends like mine? I know I'm single. I know I said I'm happy, but fuck. They don't have to rub it in every chance they get. It was funny at first and then it just started to hurt a bit. Then it started to hurt a lot every time they use it against me.

And then I was so stupid to click on a file in my old msn account and what do I find?

Exactly. All the emails Jackie - an ex - and I had exchanged. And just literally from the first to the last email we'd ever sent each other I still had. It made me so sad to read them all. From where he said he was too shy to come to me and tell me he loved me, to when he broke up with me. Via email. I think that was the one thing he did to make me hurt the most. He couldn't even say it was over to my face?

But yeah. Who really needs enemies with friends like mine. I swear they're going to start postering it soon or something. I just don't want them to say it anymore. I'm already aware of my glaring lack of significant other.

004.

Tue, 12 Feb 2008 15:45:35 GMT

...I know I fail.

004. Shadows.

Dark hair – seemingly darker in the pale moonlight – swished behind a slender body as it ran. Ran as fast as it could, as far away as it could. He was scared. Not a normal type of scared, where a moment of breathing will clam one’s breathing, but the type of fear that made the heart stop in melachonic beauty of such perfect fear.

Pale eyes cast glances over one heavily bleeding shoulder, clawmarks sunk deep inside the soft flesh. They hurt – no... The throbbed, they were agony. Slow exhaustion forced its way into a hazed mind, making the owner of it want to drop to the floor and not wake up until he was healed and safe and warm in his own home next to his treasure. His masterpeice.

Beams of silver touched Barbas, eyes only for his prey. So much fear in him, so little time to take him away. So little of everything for humans. He was merely being kind by killing them, he reasoned. It was his duty, even as the Regent of Hell. Yet his time on earth was litmited by this. He wanted his little dollmaker! Yes, he very much did. Red nails curled into a pained fist as his time ran out, eyes the same color – a red like dried blood – narrowed as he neared.

A pained cry was ripped from his throat as they neared the carpenter’s house, passed it, passed the baker’s and he snagegd the man, who ripped himself away. The cry was angry, filled with rage as his soul was ripped back into hell, his body evaporating.

The dollmaker sobbed and wrapped his slender arms around himself, stopping only to reach for a jacket, before pushing open the door to his workchamber, his masterpeice. He bolted it from the inside, a touch making sure it was secure and sumbled down the dark steps to where he knew a pale figure was.

He collapsed beside it, wrapping its arms around himself and burying his face in the long pretty hair, breathing in the scent of cherries and freshly roasted foreign fruits that the peddlers brought to their humble village. He relaxed against the slowly warming wood as the blood soaked out of the jacket he used for protection. A soft sigh escaped him as he passed out.

He never did notice the hands that cautiously lay his down, didn’t feel the ebony hair dripping across a firm pale shoulder to drip into his lap, Lucide admitted when asked why his master had created him. He hadn’t noticed the hands slowly undoing his breeches and the unconscious reaction he gave to the weak hands fumbled at his body as the blood alone was not enough. He wasn’t awake to feel his climax, nor did he see the pale fingers bringing his semen up to cherry red lips.

They gave the illusion his lips were actually made of cherries, and his body made of snow. Like the fearies had blessed him. Steady hands set them both back to right as the alchemistic ritual was completed. He was now master’s. Only master’s.

aww.

Thu, 07 Feb 2008 20:32:30 GMT

I actually find this thing insanely cute. I haven't a clue why. *Squee*

Anyway. Never really knew what quizilla was good for, besides letting angsty little teens write the [s]bad[/b] dark poetry. But I guess it's not all bad. Met an old friend there yesterday when I got bored and was randomly browsing the horribly written first person slash. How demeaning it is. Not that I'm all that good, but damn, I at least do try. And I don't go "review or I won't write!" or pm or whatever.

Moving on. I really should make Vince cook for me more, because damn, can that boy cook. Heh. Guess I shouldn't tell him that or it'd all go to his head. Oh that would be a bad sight if ever I saw one. He's approaching narcissus as it is. If he wasn't so adorable, that is. And if I didn't love the poor thing.

Ugh. Tired, tired. Must run off to bed and snuggle up to Vince. <3

woo #3

Mon, 04 Feb 2008 13:56:25 GMT

My muses fail me. ; x;

Soft lashes brush high cheekbones as the bride nervously stands before the altar, opposite her groom. He looks nothing but angry,she notes, and she knows that she is the reason. When a pair of their standing gets married, a gift is chosen by the woman. Many say that it is not wise thing to have made a custom, as almost always women choose extremely expensive things.

'But not me.' She thinks. Ot her. She chose to have the Hades puppet destroyed. It was on it's way to the lumberjack's at that same moment. The grand finale of her soon to be husband's career. He said it would ruin him, to have his masterpiece killed, but he could not deny her wish. He couldn't even if he wanted to even more than he did - if that were even possible.

Light sobs come from the crowd as the priest finishes his words and snaps shut his book. The dollmaker lifts her veil, and she leans forward to kiss him. She gasps and holds a hand over his heart while the man before her drops to his knees, clutching at his head and chest.

'Dear God. Anything, anyone! Make the demon stop it!' She says in her head, unable to speak, reciting every prayer she has memorized trying to save him. He can't die, she won't let him die, she has convinced herself.

But what can she do, when the doll getting torn to pieces, splinters flying everywhere and the axe swishes through the air to land with another dull thud.

She knows he feels what Lucide is feeling, because she knew it all along. She'd done her research. She knew all about homunculi. But she'd denied it all along. She didn't want the doll to be there and she didn't want her husband under the puppet's spell.

She bit her lip as his harsh breaths faded into nothing and his body went limp and collapsed into a pile on the altar. Whispers were starting up now, rumors starting to spread, and she thinks bitterly, that from now on, all the will ever throw in the fire, is pale, white wood.

Tue, 01 Jan 2008 20:24:44 GMT

Oh the joy of being bored and having a hand injury. *Snort.*

In the distance, the bells chimed eleven pm, the loud, metallic sounds heard easily throughout the cellar. Where he lived. A sigh escaped a pale white man, dressed in the only clothing his had. The steps he took as he paced the room were faltering, yet he never fell.

He disliked being alone, but he disliked even more being with anyone but his creator. His master. The one who'd made him, unconsciously given him a soul through care and love. The doll bit his lip as he wished the man would just hurry up and figure it out. Surely he'd give up the woman he had to marry for his puppet.

Surely.

The doll froze, for lack of a better word. He stood still as ice as the jewelry box his master had been making for his future wife froze, playing an eery, slow tune. He wasn't sure how long he stood there, listening to it repeat over, over, and over again. A chill ran up his spine as the bells tolled twelve as it once more began it's song.

"Demon puppet."

The words left as a hiss and the music stopped, all of a sudden, as the box fell shut with a loud sound. He reached out, opening it again, smiling and leaving it open. Come morning, it would probably not play. The demon puppet was merely toying with his attentions, a little temporary spell. He dragged the chair noisely, slowly towards the desk on which it sat, laying his head down as it went on and on, louder than anything, and almost silent. It sent tremors down his supposed spine as he bent his arms, resting his head on them as they rested on the desk.

What's going on here?

Drifted in a whisper of his master's bride, as she stared at the puppet which she had seen being put up against the wall that night before they retreated to bed. Her breath caught and the doll vaguely wondered if she had stopped breathing, enough to not utter a scream. He lifted his head and the woman looked as if she would faint any moment now when the pale thing stood up and advanced towards her.

“You know my secret.” His silky, not quite feminine voice reached her ears and she shuddered. Hades doll. She always knew too much care had been given to him. “Now you must tell master, and master may use my magic to his will.” The music increased in volume as if angry. Angry to be overridden and forgotten, angry to be ignored.

The puppet turned, taking its mechanical steps towards its place by the wall as the bells tolled one. At the only strike, the music abruptly ended on the end note and the charm was done casting. The woman turned, nodding as a few tears slipped from her eyes. She’d been warned, that one did not have to agree with Satan to have his creatures attack. She would never quite grasp he was not evil, merely a shell. A Homunculus. It was not his fault. He was an artificial human being, created of alchemy and blood. He could not have fought, his eyes slid closed and he assured himself he was not hades, once more.

100challenge.

Sun, 30 Dec 2007 18:29:23 GMT

so j decided to kick me along to do it. after all.

001. Beginnings.
002. Middles.
003. Ends.
004. Insides.
005. Outsides.
006. Hours.
007. Days.
008. Weeks.
009. Months.
010. Years.
011. Red.
012. Orange.
013. Yellow.
014. Green.
015. Blue.
016. Purple.
017. Brown.
018. Black.
019. White.
020. Colourless.
021. Friends.
022. Enemies.
023. Lovers.
024. Family.
025. Strangers.
026. Teammates.
027. Parents.
028. Children.
029. Birth.
030. Death.
031. Sunrise.
032. Sunset.
033. Too Much.
034. Not Enough.
035. Sixth Sense.
036. Smell.
037. Sound.
038. Touch.
039. Taste.
040. Sight.
041. Shapes.
042. Triangle.
043. Square.
044. Circle.
045. Moon.
046. Star.
047. Heart.
048. Diamond.
049. Club.
050. Spade.
051. Water.
052. Fire.
053. Earth.
054. Air.
055. Spirit.
056. Breakfast.
057. Lunch.
058. Dinner.
059. Food.
060. Drink.
061. Winter.
062. Spring.
063. Summer.
064. Fall.
065. Passing.
066. Rain.
067. Snow.
068. Lightening.
069. Thunder.
070. Storm.
071. Broken.
072. Fixed.
073. Light.
074. Dark.
075. Shade.
076. Who?
077. What?
078. Where?
079. When?
080. Why?
081. How?
082. If.
083. And.
084. He.
085. She.
086. Choices.
087. Life.
088. School.
089. Work.
090. Home.
091. Birthday.
092. Christmas.
093. Thanksgiving.
094. Independence.
095. New Year.
096. Artist‘s Choice.
097. Artist‘s Choice.
098. Artist‘s Choice.
099. Artist‘s Choice.
100. Artist‘s Choice.

And I kind of dislike sticking to that list. 'Course I generally will.

001. Introduction.
002. Midnight
003. Grand Finale.
004. Shadows.
005. Body.
006. Ten Hours
007. Zero Days.
008. Two Weeks.
009. One Month.
010. Years Ago.
011. Anger.
012. Sunset.
013. Yellow Grass.
014. Green Globe.
015. Fingerpaints.
016. Flowers.
017. Swamp.
018. Sheep.
019. Clouds.
020. Blind.
021. Close.
022. Closer.
023. Lovers A-many.
024. Brother.
025. Hallway.
026. Soccer.
027. Good Boy.
028. Wrong.
029. Fear.
030. Rebirth.
031. Morning After.
032. Evening Before.
033. Not Enough.
034. Too Much.
035. See Me.
036. Cinnamon.
037. Hear It.
038. Faraway.
039. Roses.
040. Look Away.
041. Circles.
042. Take Me.
043. Universe.
044. Stars.
045. Fly.
046. Leave.
047. Broken.
048. Unreachable.
049. Back Then.
050. Bury Me.
051. Drown.
052. Incinerate.
053. Suffocate.
054. Bloodstream.
055. Mine.
056. Alone.
057. Joint.
058. Arrival.
059. Snow.
060. Feel Me.
061. Cold.
062. Cherries.
063. Boybands.
064. Roadtrips.
065. Gone.
066. Kisses.
067. White.
068. Illuminati.
069. Cover up.
070. Running.
071. Fix Me.
072. Heartless.
073. Invisible.
074. Invincible.
075. Grey.
076. Homunculus.
077. Doll.
078. Dollmaker’s Home.
079. A Long Time Ago.
080. Magick.
081. No One Knows.
082. Heaven.
083. We Went There.
084. Owner.
085. Wife.
086. Consciousness.
087. Partly.
088. More Than That.
089. Life.
090. Forever.
091. Creation.
092. Leaving.
093. True Believers.
094. Slave.
095. New Disgraces.
096. Eyes.

097. Lips.
098. Dress.
099. Rocking Chair.
100. Gold and Silk.

Right. Start at one.

001. Introduction.

Pale silver hair trickles over slim shoulders, as purple glass eyes stare unseeingly out towards the opposite wall. The wall is a dull grey color, the same as the stones it is made from. The soft light the room is basked in makes it somehow seem warmer. Were it completely lighted by sunlight, one would see it to be a cold feel, as dull grey pearls look the same.

The doll stands, lifesized, maybe a slight smaller, as his creator basks in the feel of his ever first own puppet – created from scratch – as he slid his hands over the gorgeous pale wood, white as beaches locked away in one’s fantasy. He takes another piece of the same colored wood from the table – not from the same tree of course, that would be silly to even think, in their eyes – and settles down to spend hours upon hours in the night working on turning into one slender, fineboned hand.

Soon it’ll be done he thinks, as he’s been working on it for nights already, now, and he smoothes over the silky soft feel of it, kneeling down at his puppet’s feet to start working on the joint that will hold it to the wrist. His eyes sparkle as the hand is finally connected firmly. This doll will outshine all others, he has convinced himself. It will have joints in all the parts humans do, and it will resemble a human far more than the porcelain china dolls. Dolls that break so easy. He has hollowed his wooden puppet out, making him heavy but not so much as that a proper man would not be able to lift him.

He has been working on the doll for three years now, and he peers up at it’s handsome face. The lips have been painted a fine cherry red by his sisters, and the cheekbones high at their demand. The once loose strands of hair are tied back in one loose tail and fall to just beneath his hips. The creator is sure it has grown over the three years, but the sisters tell him not to be silly. Society sees him as another failed dollmaker, driven insane by the need for perfection. Only men who can take less are successful, they say.

But he’s going to prove them wrong, he tells himself, as he’s striding to the tailor’s with the money made of odd jobs in his pockets. He has measurements and that will do for now, as he orders black clothing with red trim to be made with the measurements. He can see te hesitation on the tailors’ faces, to work for a lunatic, yet they can’t turn down the money he’s offering.

Confidence is bubbling high in his chest as he slides open the door to his cellar, only to look around in panic as his doll is not on the other side of the room where he left him. He steps inside and locks the door, turning and seeing the doll sitting on the only chair in the room; the one by the door. A slight fear takes him, yet he brushes it away, looking over his creation as he steps forward to clothe him.

The joints in the elbow bend as he slips in into the jacket, the last part of the outfit that molds to him like skin, and he takes the doll from the chair, to set him in his bedroom.

Excitement is high in the air, people eager to see what the the man proclaimed insane has finally made in all these years that no one but his sisters have seen his creations – because surely he made more than one – that were locked in his cellar. Men and women of all standings are gossiping what he might have created when he steps on stage.

A beautifully pale man is cradled in his arms, and the gossip comes to a blunt stop as they all take a second look, see where the wood has been turned into joints and a tiny, almost inaudible creak sounds as he lowers the doll to the stage floor. Slowly, as slowly as slowly could be, people start to clap. Soon it reaches it’s crescendo and the sound is almost deafening. Pale fingers seem to clench lightly in an irking of the noise.

Sun, 30 Dec 2007 16:28:33 GMT

I've been owned. By a game. I admit. It made me it's bitch. /First/ I had to get BitZipper to open it. But noooo. I don't have the right disk. Right now, WinZip's giving it a go. I've officially been topped by this game. *Uke.* Oh dear God. It has a pop-up window. *Froths at the mouth!* I will die if this still doesn't work. And I'll cry. You hear that, pc? Your faithful owner will cry! ; x;

...*SOB* It can't let me win, even just once, can it? It never does give me a fair chance, does it? *Crieees.*

I'm quite determind to get this game to work, in the end. Or in the end of tonight. Otherwise I'm giving up and buying it with money I don't have at the moment.

Dear God I can hear fireworks again. ; o; So noisy. </3 Migraine. *Twitch.* It's not even new year's yet and they've been letting off fireworks since nine days ago. Damnit. I suppose I can't blame childeren.

I'm hungryyy. Oh look. It's actually doing something. Maybe when it's done I can open msn and con Tim into making me food. The benefits of living with someone. <3; Well. Apart from the fact you have the possibility of walking in on that person.

Oh that's /it/. I give up. You've won. You've seme'd me. *Sniffle.*

Right. Off to get food. Or comfort. Or something. *Doesn't like losing.* *Points at the cute little icon.* Yes. ; x; I agree.

Gah!

Sun, 30 Dec 2007 14:20:56 GMT

Download fasterrrr! I'm willing it with all my mind and it's /still/ not finished. I even closed my beloved Limewire for it. Yay for getting my priorities completely messed up. : D

Because I'm forgetful like that.

Nicked this off Gyn. : D

Thu, 27 Dec 2007 17:38:06 GMT

Name Four Bad Habits You Have:
1. Snappish
2. Constantly typo
3. Ocd
4. Bite nails

Name Four Things That You Wish You Had:
1. A better roommate
2. More slashy books in our bookstores
3. Less people that only speak dutch around here
4. More talent

Name Four Scents You Love:
1. Mint
2. Fire
3. Strawberry
4. Vince

Name Four People That Know You the Best:
1. Vince[boyfriend]

2. Mack[friend]
3. Alish[friend]
4. Jori[cousin]

Name Four Things You'd Never Wear:
1. Not much
2. Mini-skirt?
3. Er. Maybe dress-up?
4. Ugggly things.

Name Four Things You Are Thinking About Now:
1. This is such an ugly necklace
2. Fuck that
3. Dear god my desk is messy

4. I r ill.

Name Four Things That You Have Done Today:
1. Eaten
2. Been out
3. Yelled <3 :D
4. Talked to a friend

Name the Last Four Things You Have Bought:
1. Bracelet
2. ‘Nother bracelet
3. Boogey Man
4. Baked To Death[yay slashy vamps. <3]

Name Four Bands/Groups Most People Don't Know You Like
1. London After Midnight
2. Arsenium
3. Auqa
4. Escape The Fate

Name Four Drinks You Regularly Drink:
1. Water
2. Cassis
3. Coke
4. Lemonade

First Grade Teacher's Name?
Er. Dunno.

Last Words You Said:
”Fuck! I want one of those golden guys!”

Last Song You Sang?
Sexy Plexi by Jack Johnson. Or whatever his name is.

Last Person You Hugged?
Jori.

Last Thing You Laughed At?
At an uber-lame picture.

Last Time You Said 'I Love You' And Meant It?
To Niki. In a friendly way.

Last Time You Cried?
Dunno.

What's In Your CD Player?
Mix cd.

What Color Socks Are You Wearing?
Black. n_n

What's Under Your Bed?
Your mom.

What Time Did You Wake Up Today?
11:53.

Current Taste?
Garlic. : D

Current Hair?
Purple.

Current Clothes?
Skinny blue jeans andand A striped black and green top.

Current Annoyance?
My mother, dear gott.

Current Longing?
A better layout. For my mother to just /go home/. Dear gott, I’m twenty, not two.

Current Desktop Picture?
Inguuuuusss. <3;

Current Worry?
Nuthin’.

Current Hate?
FOOD.

Favorite Physical Feature Of The Opposite Sex?
...; x; muscles.

Last CD You Bought?
: D HIM.

Favorite Place To Be?
In bed. Being uncivilized. In the best way.

Least Favorite Place?
Dentist. <///3