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patches @ 2010-12-30T21: 13:00

Happiness seeks the light, so we judge that the world is happy, but the pain is hidden in the desert, so we judge that the pain does not exist.

~ Bartleby the Scrivener, Herman Melville

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patches @ 2010-11-23T11: 30:00

"Ah ... there rewrites Emmi! Emmi. Emmi. Emmi. I'm a little drunk, but only slightly. I spent all afternoon drinking and hoping it will be midnight, Emmi come to visit. Yes, indeed. It is the first bottle. I miss my Emmi. Want to come home? Lights out. We do not have ourselves. I just want to feel you, Emmi. Will close eyes. Marlene nothing makes sense. We bled. We do not love. She believes that we love, but no, not love, is only dependent, possession. Marlene does not let go, and I ... I can not hold it. I'm a little drunk. But not much. Are you coming, Emmi? Do we kiss? My sister says you're beautiful, Emmi, you are the to be. Have you ever kissed a stranger? I'll take another sip of white wine from Friuli. I drink to our health. I'm a little drunk. But not much. Now it's your turn again. Write me, Emmi. Writing is like kissing, but no lips. Writing is kissing his mind. Emmi, Emmi, Emmi. "

Glattauer, Daniel - against the north wind

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The Grapes of Wrath

"People come with nets to fish in the Rioyo guards prevented from doing so they come in broken-down cars to get the dumped oranges, but they have been sprayed with kerosene. And stand still and watch the potatoes float by, hear the pigs squeal when they put them in a ditch and covered with quicklime, watch the mountains of oranges washed into pobredumbre ooze, and in the eyes of people reflects the failure, and in the eyes of the hungry is a growing wrath. In the souls of the people the grapes of wrath are filling and become heavy, gain importance, ready for harvest "

The Grapes of Wrath. John Steinbeck

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Preface of The Picture of Dorian Gray - Oscar Wilde

• The artist is the creator of beautiful things. To reveal art and conceal the artist is art's aim.
• The critic is he who can translate into another manner or a new material his impression of beautiful things.
• The highest and the lowest form of criticism is a mode of autobiography. Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming. This is a defect.
• Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the cultivated. For these there is hope.
• are the elect to whom beautiful things mean only beauty.
• A book is not in any way, moral or immoral. Books are well written or badly written. That is all.
• The nineteenth century dislike of Realism is the rage of Caliban seeing his face in the mirror.
• The nineteenth century dislike of romanticism is the rage of Caliban not seeing his own face in the mirror.
• moral life of man forms part of the theme for the artist, but the morality of art consists in the perfect use of half imperfect. No artist wants to prove anything. Even things that are true can be proved.
• No artist has ethical sympathies. An ethical sympathy in an artist is an unpardonable mannerism of style.
• No artist is ever morbid. The artist can express everything.
• Thought and language are to the artist instruments of an art.
• Vice and virtue are to the artist, an art materials.
• From the point of view, the model of all the arts is the musician. From the point of view of feeling, the actor.
• All art is at once surface and symbol.
• Those who go beneath the surface do so at your own risk.
• Those who read the symbol do so at your own risk tambiéna.
• is the spectator, and not life, art really mirrors.
• The diversity of opinion about a work of art shows that the work is new, complex and vital. When critics disagree, the artist is in accord with himself.
• We can forgive a man for making a useful thing, as he does not admire. The only excuse for making a useless thing is one admires it intensely.
• All art is quite useless.

Preface The Picture of Dorian Gray - Oscar Wilde

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patches @ 2010-10-15T00: 09 : 00 pieces

a couple of years ago, in a very stormy autumn afternoon New York, walking home from college, I found a long queue of hopeful players on the street waiting for their turn to buy a lottery ticket megaloto multi . Endured a torrential downpour of thunder and lightning peppered the small store front on the street 35. Out of curiosity, I went to a couple who waited at the end of the tail, fun and soaked under a tiny umbrella, and asked kindly if they knew that the statistical probability that they will play the fat was less than they fell a thunderbolt.

~ The power of optimism, Luis Rojas Marcos

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experience

"It's not easy to get to know at what point you have to open a hole to cause a flow of energy and light that passes through it. Even more difficult to reach to aaveriguar, have accurate insight on what object or material from that hole to practice operate the miracle that brings fresh air and, sometimes, change some samples vidas.Para is turn on the computer screen or on a journey unexpected, or, as one hermit who appeared in a movie, throwing bottles with messages in the toilet of your own home, or kissing in extact time and place. "
Nocilla
experience Agustín Fernández Mallo

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Nutella @ 2010-09-01T00: 00:00

-Hanna, do you think that unfortunately the predisposition to inherited? - asked .
"No, son," replied the old lady with conviction, though, as he said, cautiously joined the pinky and the impact of both hands in a gesture of gypsy spell Ismail did not notice. One is also responsible for happiness and misfortune. It is true that no one can deny the importance of chance, but if you think about it, you realize that fate always comes into our lives through the door we've opened ourselves.

~ Albanian Lover, Susana Fortes

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patches @ 2010-08-13T16: 29:00

the end of this day is what's left of yesterday and tomorrow will be: the innumerable insatiable hunger and always be the same to another.

Book of Disquiet Fernando Pessoa of . Hyacinth

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patches @ 2010-08-02T05: 03:00

Then he learned that certain things come in a flash, and some just know without being able to explain.
Because at that time knew that he would marry that man.
was the ideal candidate. Gareth St. Clair
knew what was important. It was fun, it was ironic, sarcastic, sneering arrogance knew, but he knew what was important.
And until then she had never understood how important it was that for her.

Julia Quinn - For a kiss ~

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patches @ 2010-07-27T13: 35:00

On the occasion of anger, to enlarge a canvas wall knocked down and bought three acres of adjacent land, but this new part goes almost uninhabited, and the tombs remain as before, piled at the door. The Guardian, which is at the same time gravedigger and sexton of the church (so that out of the parish cdáveres double benefit), has used that vacant lot to plant potatoes. Yet year after year their meager potato tapers, so that when an epidemic does not know whether to rejoice or grieve the deaths of new graves.
- You eat from the dead, Lestiboudois! - Finally the priest said to him on one occasion.
This phrase made him ponder bleak, it was still a time, but even today, continues growing its tubers and even argues with aplomb that develop spontaneously.

Gustave Flaubert - Madame Bovary

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les yeux bleus, cheveux noirs

sleep She says the actor. Seem to do, sleep. Is at the center of the empty room, on white sheets spread on the same floor.

He sits beside her. The flash looks. Nor is there

chairs in this room. No doubt he has brought the sheets and then, immediately afterwards, one by one, door after door, closed the other rooms of the house. This room overlooks the sea and the beach. No garden. He left there

spider yellow light.

certainly do not know exactly why he has done with the sheets, doors, light.

She sleeps.

He does not know. Look sleep, open hands, his face still strange. The breasts, beauty, eyes cerrados.Si had left the door open to other rooms, she would undoubtedly come to see. It's what he had to think.

He looks at the legs resting, smooth as the arms, breasts. Breathing is equally clear, long. And under the skin of his forehead, quietly, the flow of blood that beats, slowed by sleep.

Except for this central yellow light falling from the chandelier, the room is dark, round, was bound, closed, without any cracks around the body.

black hair blue eyes , Marguerite Duras

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patches @ 2010-07-05T19: 17:00

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means we have more words,
I mean we have feelings of least
Or have them, but we stopped using the words that express,
And therefore, we lose.

- Blindness - Jose Saramago

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Murder Feelings lost in the dark.

A woman started back to the audience, under the glare of the spotlights. She wore long white gloves and a gown of black tulle sleeves appeared membranous wings when unfolded arms. Made a lot of things with arms and back, but when he finally turned around, was old. He wore the white powdered face of death, her mouth painted a bright reddish purple, but it was old. I felt a wave of shame invades the body, and was not funny, this woman did not want Take off your clothes, do not want to look. I felt it was me, not the woman of the stage, which was humiliated exponíay. I was sure she will hiss and scream things, that would feel cheated.

She unzipped his black suit, slipping into the body, and started moving his hips. He smiled with his face white mask and purple mouth, and within LABOS reflected their teeth, stones dull white, it was a joke, unintentionally, she knew it was a trick but other did not know who We was playing a joke. The trick was that suddenly there was no trick: the body was raised up there was real, older, not floating on the light bulbs in a world apart from ours was, like us, caught in time.

The Victory Burlesque was a dead silence.

Margaret Atwood "Murder in the dark."

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patches @ 2010-06-28T21: 55:00

The only people left when we shadings are the words and quite another to truth. Sometimes coincide and sometimes not. The words are there, we can read and listen, but often do not know what they mean exactly, but the truth is hard to point a finger. Which, to me, incidentally, is not very serious, the end of the day we spend our lives looking for people who do not exist, imaginary places and mental states have told us they are real, but we have never experienced ourselves.

Benefits ~ travel by train, Antonio Orejudo

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patches @ 2010-06-25T20: 40:00

Our most deeply rooted convictions, more infallible, are the most suspicious. They are our limits, our boundaries, our prison. Little is life if Piaf in her a formidable effort to expand its borders. We live in the proportion in which craves live longer. Stubbornness in keeping us all in our usual horizon means weakness, decline of vital energy.

~ The dehumanization of art and other aesthetic essays , José Ortega y Gasset

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Intermittently the death of José Saramago.

death bed, he hugged the man, and not understanding what was happening, she never slept, The dream felt gently lowered eyelids. The next day nobody was killed.

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patches @ 2010-06-12T02: 33:00

"Your body, Lilly ... Do not you see? Is the body that gave birth to the human race.
His words were against everything he preached the world in which she lived. Diets. Selflessness. An obsession with female bone instead of female flesh. The culture of youth and thinness.
of stinginess.
of disfigurement.
From Fear.
For a split second, Lilly glimpsed the truth. He saw a world so terrified by the mystical power of the woman who all she could accept was the annihilation of the very source of that power: the natural shape of the female body.

Susan Elizabeth Phillips - This heart of mine

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Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury

Books are (...) to remind us how dumb and stupid we are. Are Caesar's praetorian guard, whispering as the parade takes place along the avenue, 'Remember, Caesar, that you are mortal. " Most of us can not go running around talking to everyone, and know all the cities of the world because we lack time, money or friends. What you're looking for, Montag, are in the world, but the only way for the average person see ninety-nine percent of it is in a book. Do not ask for guarantees. And do not expect to be saved by some thing, person, machine, or library. Make your own saving work, and if you drown, die, at least, knowing that was headed for the beach.

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If I want to talk ... Before I die

- My True Will? Bastian repeated impressed. What is that?

"It's your deepest secret, you do not know.

- How I can find out then?

-Following the path of desires, from one to another, until the last. That path will lead you to your True Will.

"It seems very difficult," said Bastian.

"It's the most dangerous of all roads," said the lion.

- Why? Bastian asked. I have no fear.

"It's not that," reverberated Graógraman. That path requires greater authenticity and attention, because nowhere else is so easy to get lost forever.

- You mean you are not always good wishes we have? She tried to find Bastian. [...]

- do you know that is wishful thinking! Do you know what is or is not good!

The Neverending Story Michael Ende of .

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The touch of your skin against mine, his weight on me, the heat did not know I would. He did not understand that when making love, is actually made. Wake up things, it affects both.

before I die. Jenny Downham. Within

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patches @ 2010-04-24T22: 15:00

Darcy Bingley appreciated for its spontaneity, openness, and ductility of temperament, they were in open conflict with yours, but yours is not far menos.Bingley dislike for its part, it had the firm assurance of appreciation of Darcy and the most high opinion about their juicios.Darcy it was superior in intelligence, Bingley was far from being silly, but Darcy was really smart, and was at the same time haughty, reserved and impertinent, his way educated man but were not attractive. His friend was leading on this aspect. Bingley was sure that, wherever present sympathies aroused, Darcy always annoyed instead.
Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen.

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We just words, words that echo in the ether, "said Felix. Mumbled words, shouted, spitting, words repeated millions of times or just accumulated mouths words hesitant. I do not believe in the hereafter, but I think in words. All the words that people have said from the beginning of time have been floating around, suspended in the magma of the Universe. That's eternity: a sound inaudible words. And maybe also dreams are just that: maybe the words of the dead, that we put at the head while we sleep and we form images. I am sure that all the sounds go swirling around us: the Earth cry! Rodrigo de Triana that greeted the American coast during the first voyage of Columbus, the dying You too, Brutus with Caesar lamented to his murderers, the sweet lullaby with which my mother put me to sleep. I do not remember the song, but I have the conviction that is near me, and that comforts me. Sometimes I think I'm spending my mother's words, like a breeze lightly caresses my face, and always kept the hope of ever catching these words at night, and reliving like good news from within the dream.

Cannibal's Daughter of Rosa Montero

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cannibal bits @ 2010-04-23T16: 36:00

was almost impossible to believe how things had changed since last June. For seven months, our love triangle seemed to have no solution, three different kinds of broken hearts that could not be avoided. Now everything was balanced perfectly. It was terribly ironic that the pieces had finally embedded just in time to be destroyed forever.

Stephenie Meyer - Amanecer ~

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Jojojo, I have reserved the new head of Riku! I hope to make up on it this time ...
the end I was late for Elfdoll preorder, so I decided not to wait until August for the next (agostooooooooo T____T) and look for alternatives. I was considering buying a head of K-Doll, the Kill_U, I've always liked. But then I saw the beautiful Elysia of Dollstown and Riku saw very clearly in that mold: sad, Asian features ... I'll just have to modify a bit the nose, some sanding the wall, which is too prominent to go through Asia. It will be a very slight change and give you just a touch I want! I have really wanted to get me the head and can begin to make up ^ ^

official leave one picture, that is, as a girl. Need to take a little imagination xD

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Well after inactivity siiiglos poenrme muñequil I decided to work. I have to make dreadlocks
the wig I bought a puuuta time! And I'll comrparle Riku trousers and a top, I saw a really cute in Iplehouse jersecito! See if you can find second hand there.

But the biggest change will be the head. I'm trying haaarta inmaquillable disguise that thing, whatever you do looks like a pussy or worse, a satanic slut, so that's it. I'm buying a new head.

At first I thought of a male head, but I find men's and Asian heads like me ... And then it occurred to me to wear a cast for Rainy, of Elfdoll, which are always pretty tomboy. I looked without makeup molds. Those seem pretty ugly guy, but I'm very seriously considering Hazy. It will be a challenge that is a make-something male, and that throws me back a lot, so uuuum do not know what to do xD I'll keep looking!

Following the anime, I failed to see almost everything because I've been very busy lately, just keep to last. Which by the way, in the second part have changed a bit the picture, no? And that's

all for now. I'm super busy with uni and I have no time for anything else ... But hey, that's what touches me not complain ^ ^

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berrylandia @ 2010-04-18T00: 05:00

Robado de Yukiii, Mei y unos mil frikis mas :

Name a character and I'll tell you three (or more) facts about them from my own personal pseudocanon.

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continued passing the comb through the long hair to be sure it was perfect. Then he took the red lipstick and went back to review the fleshy lips once more, lie looked in the mirror the state of the dark shadow had moments before their eyes. After applying makeup in the mirror stood before placing the breasts at the neckline of soft silk nightgown. It looked perfect.

He left Bath off the light, turning to his room. The fourth came the dim light of candles lit hallway of the building bizarre shadows. Upon entering the room was left intoxicated by the sweet perfumes were the rose petals were scattered on the black satin sheets. He twisted his lips into a smirk by the environment he created.

was convinced that she gave the same place but did not want to Elisa it was in any way. I wanted to feel the least I could choose where and how, what gave it strength to continue with this insane event.

He lay face up in bed feeling the gentle touch of the petals on your skin and wondered if the touch of her hands would be as sweet. Yes, definitely I was sure it would. At least for her.

reached out an arm to take a little silver knob. He pushed a button and the mini chain began to sound the first notes of Moonlight, had decided that this would be your song for the remainder of night.

He sat up in bed and opened a drawer of the dresser. took a small glass bottle and poured its contents into the Venetian glass that was on the cabinet. She put the bottle and took the cup in his hands hesitantly. Then I summoned up courage and trying to think of what would then emptied the glass of a drink. He made a strange grimace by the strong flavor that burned his throat and turned to lie down in bed with eyes closed. He was impatient because I was, I wanted to note their arms experienced air running through it, leaving her without a last kiss.

knew he had made an appointment with the most unfaithful lover to be found. It was filled with lust and was accustomed to get through the body of the person wanted, no could avoid falling into their hands. However, it was a wine cataba only once in life, impossible to re-taste.

Elisa was aware that his conquests were often exceed twenty-four with which she had, but she wanted to feel now that he was still young and beautiful. wanted to take now that he still had control over his body, now that the disease still was not tied to a bed.

whispered "Welcome Elisa. wore few minutes waiting.

The soft melody of Beethoven volvíaa repeated a third time when he finally noticed on her body. Slipped through his legs causing it difficult to describe a tingling, captivating with its silky touch. Elisa grabbed with both hands on the slippery sheet waiting for the new movement of her furtive lover.

was slowly returning to his waist with more tenderness that Elisa had imagined. He smiled at the sweet spot while waiting anxiously to his lips rest on their own. Thirsty of them take weeks.

She felt rested on his body, shortness of breath. I do not mind having to struggle to fill their lungs, that was the minimum price to be paid. Should recognize that was being more quiet and easier than assumed at the time it took the decision to give her appointment. At that time there imagined a stormy encounter more rough, something more appropriate for the character that people attached. Elisa But he seemed to be a sensitive and caring lover.

It became less aware of their senses and strength began to fail him when he finally noticed. On his face is formed a sly smile after feeling his breath mingling with hers. Impatience was rising, and the heart started to try to pump more intensity during the brief seconds it took to take full possession from his lips, his breath. Elisa vanished with a triumphant smile on the pale face beaded with sweat. Everything had been rapid, as she always wanted.

Finally it was over. That night Death became his best friend and companion and poison in your best friend take his life, taking the air we breathe both burned. She the had saved from dying in a hospital bed, filled with sad eyes of his family to see how the disease was slowly dying, erasing all of his face once was. Had given him the death he wanted; had to die young and beautiful and, above all, far from mournful looks irritating.

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d_affne @ 2010-04-17T14: 40:00

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d_affne @ 2010-04-17T14: 31:00

Who was I?

Who am I?

; Who will I be?

Perhaps a slight breeze that turned into a furious rush to expire still a sigh.

Maybe I'm a weak cocoon that struggled to become a flower and fade with the arrival of dusk.

Maybe I was a tiny drop that turned violent storm to rush to the ground.

I do not know who I was.

; I do not know who I am.

do not know who will be.

But I know who want to be ...

light I want to be steadfast and to challenge the dark in a silent duel.

breath I want to be undisturbed and break the ropes that bind the life of my neck.

want to be the power of the elements not to fear the misfortunes of fate.

; ; ; ... but not always to want is power.

Carrie Underwood. Before & After

Dark Dust and ash

The crunch of leaves underfoot and the distant sound of an owl cut the silence of the night. Wearily goes further into the dark cemetery, leaving behind rows of graves decorated with carved angels or great master marble crosses. The radiance of the wind waves his black coat and spread in the air, his dark hair as he continues his way stealthily along the gravel path. The distant light of a lamp flashing her slender figure silhouetted in the dark and the silhouette of flowers stolen from a tomb in his hand shaking. He directed his steps through the dark vaults deep into the heart of the cemetery.

left the beaten path and slowly crossed the wet grass. Under one aspect centenary trees had hidden tombs of centuries ago. The weed had one lady dueñay hiding place, entangled among desecrating ancient gravestones and old coffins.

The man was admitted through the brambles and weeds with a fixed target: a tomb under the umbrella of one of the ancient trees. Had achieved strong roots penetrate into the coffin that had been exposed over the years. The white man stretched his hand and got rid of the brambles that adorned the small cross moth-eaten. When freed of all, he cleaned with his tongue the blood flow to the bones had been created by drilling your skin. Next, remove the dust from palm a small metal plate attached to the cross.

With a sigh he dropped two roses on the grave defiled and sat on the wet and soft ground. He looks up to the sky for the moon, a star, but the sky was covered by a thick blanket of clouds.

- Is this what awaits me? "Dark and lonely for all eternity? Vampire's voice was soft and velvety, sensual. Directed gaze to the grave, as if expecting an answer.

then sighed, rubbing his neck with one hand as if it was numb and sore.

- Do you know Elizabeth? Not worth it, you were right. Immortality has no advantages, "he paused. He fixed his eyes misty inaccurate point of darkness. At first you stick to it believing you found the way to cheat death. You get used to escape the sun and evening worship. The party initially believed more becomes hard at the best time of night for the first time you hear the wild corazóny beat of a warm blood starts to crowd into your throat. After you become aware sexual magnetism that you granted this status to women, and begin to exploit it. I must admit, Beth, that life seemed perfect.

He paused and turned to lay his eyes on the remains of the girl. Her eyes drew the figure of torment and guilt and his features were no more to amplify these emotions. He lay on the grass watching the sky began to dye of purple strokes before closing his eyes. Then he spoke again.

"But there comes a time when you change all that by returning to have a heart pumping in your own breast, to feel again the touch of sun on your skin. Over the decades, you realize that all you have is hunger, hunting, and blood lust. That's our whole life, he opened his eyes with parsimony. Purple sky began to mingle with the soft pink. Each new day ago calls us, forcing us to go out and kill, and get drunk with the blood that flows from the neck of a young woman while the cling against us as if our most precious treasure, hiding our faces from the blood-stained thick mane.

stopped and put his hand on the cold casket, stroking it fondly. To his ears began to get the sound of the engines of a city that was beginning to awaken.

-No I hate all this, dear Elizabeth, please, "he pleaded. As the decades pass, you realize you have no control over your actions, the thirst for blood work for you, doubling your will without even realizing it. So it is, over time, when you discover that if you grant all the blood thirsty beast as required reveals a tiny human essence that shows you the life you lead deplorable.

>> With it comes the loneliness and the painful truth that in the background are weak succumbed again and again. You look around and realize that everything you once loved die under the orders of the time, you feel the urgent need to feel the warmth of the sun for all that preserves the memory are not bad copies that unrealistic. But all that ends when you smell the smell of blood hit and run your prey to despair, not hunger, but to quiet the damn voice that only brings suffering.

The clarity was a presence in the cemetery. Not enough to shield the rays passed through the clouds, but enough so that their survival instincts the urge to run away.

"But now it's over, dear Beth. The call of the night is not enough, there is no reason to want to move forward. I'm tired, very tired, his voice let out such a tone reminiscent of times past and distant, a decaying castles and plaintive melodies. I do not want to feel within me a struggle between beast and man to get to own my will, my soul - cleared his throat and his voice was a strange mixture of happiness, fear and pain. All end today. I'm not sure I could go to meet you, I doubt even accept my company. But still I am happy because today I will be free-emphasized the last sentence with something like a triumphant tone.

reached a flower and kissed it before placing it back, whispering "I love you." Then with a swift movement, was incorporated provisions to emerge from the plant frame was delaying his freedom by getting in the way of the sun. He stopped looking at the sky before the last step. She was not the day itself, the sun was still weak and drowsy, but decided that he wanted to wait. He had already waited for too many centuries.

went out to meet his purgatory with arms outstretched and a smile that showed his sharp teeth. At first there were more that little burning, but soon became eager for ruthless flames consume his body. He did not complain of pain, just simply clenching your jaw and let two tears of blood slid down his cheeks before it all ended.

The ashes were soon spread by the wind's hand. As proof of its existence there was only a small circle on the ground scorched the time would soon be erased because the time to be volvíaa him. Or at least what was left of him.

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d_affne

you venture just a few steps in the dark alley, drawn by my sobs. I can see you hesitate for a moment, thinking, perhaps, have imagined the sound, but when your eyes start to get used to the lack of light, you find me at the end of the alley. I see sitting on the floor, my hands around his knees and his head buried between them.

decide to approach me slowly, still undecided. Each step you resounds in my head like the ticking of a clock which has begun the countdown. With every inch you advance towards me, I can appreciate the sound of your blood to flip through your veins and begins to intoxicate the strange excitement that addresses every time I imagine the sublime taste of blood in my mouth . I can not control and ended up looking up to watch you, but quickly returns to hide my face. You thought to recognize a trace of malice in my eyes and it made you stop, startled.

a new sob pretend to get you out of your thoughts. Bury your head in me and I can see how you fight against your irrational side, which is warning you of danger. However, prefer to shut your instincts and convince you that in front of you, there is only one girl who needs help. Humans are so stupid dejarais ... Perhaps if you lead by your instinct would understand that, far from being a helpless child, I sin in human form. Continuous

crying to prompt you to come to console me. The years I have become a great actress and, like a cat plays before kill a mouse, I learned to entertain before the dam. Still, I can not help feeling increasingly anxious to feed.

Finally you rise up before me and offer me a trembling hand. Before looking up, I can only smile. Ready to play some more sack head between his knees. I avoid looking at you directly so stared at the bustle of the street beyond the alley there, and I cling to the hand that I extend. A shiver runs through your body when in contact with my icy skin making you arm hairs bristle. You repair your fear increases when my vacant eyes and empty of emotions that seem more typical of a sinister porcelain doll.

I can feel your heart rate increase and how your heart beats frantically struggle to keep up with your emotions. Finally, let your survival instincts take control of your actions and try to let go of my grip. But it's too late. Nail

my eyes on yours. Your pupils dilate with fear and more insistently trying to get rid of my hand, but can not. You are my food and I do not let you go. I show a smile in triumph and your eyes alight immediately, as if attracted by magnets, my fangs. I appreciate the fear have put your whole body tense preventing you from crying, letting paralyzed before your final precipitate. Because you know you're going to die, just like you know the fly is trapped in a spider's web.

Your pulse has reached a frenzied pace that makes me more and cost more to suppress the Beast. Slowly I stand before you without letting go her hand, determined to take the backdrop of the grim work theater that I have prepared. Entangling my fingers through your hair and you have to tilt the head, leaving easy access to the jugular.

"You played well ..." I whisper softly in your ear. Immediately cease to hurt, I promise before tearing your skin with my teeth as I surrender to hunger.

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Writer's Block: Back to the Future

If You Were 12 and Could see yourself now, do you think you'd be happy or disappointed, and why? Submitted By

kokified

View Answers 3237

I Would Be really dissapointed. I Was a reall interesting child: I loved writing poetry, I played the violin, I Had very good grades in school ... The present me is the Opposite of That total, and on top of it, I'm a lot more conscious of who I really That now am Back then, so if I do not like it now, I'm possitive I'd hate it if I Could see myself now when i was 12 ...

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Blogcrews to vary


I jus t want to pr otect
The da ys when Sakura Matou 's face s hone, sm iling
For th e rest of my l ife 』

The luck iest th hav ing to and Happe ned t or
me Is to h ave met ❝ Kaito ❞ here


Are not they adorable? \u0026lt;3
Sakura is the girl of my ava, if nobody knows about it, sob

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Narita subtleties do not fuck with my two cents

novels Drrr Download! because, although not in the least understand the moon speak, the cartoons are relevant to my interests. And I find this.



\u0026lt;

Oh, and a picture of Erika Anri fondling not bother me up. So yeah.

So ... Does Kida / Mikado is not as impossible a dream? this to two letters that

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Also, offer fics and drawings. Failure is that much to write custom but I promise to give my best:). ✖

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I stopped reading the wallflower, the picture does not convince me. But em has seen much anime suddenly.

I'm watching Strawberry Panic. It's a bit ... Um, but I like xD mariconada. Shojo is a completely old-fashioned, but calentorras lesbians harassing innocent small and I labor.




I am also watching Ghost Hunt and meeeeeeee love it! Ghost stories of the good. The characters a little strange ... but hey, it only took 3 chapters, it is too early to judge. But this self that I will finish.




And finally I've started to see Hidamari Sketch, a slice of life. It's great, the girls are all adorable and I love life. I want that life !!!!. It makes me happy to see this anime, really xD




I downloaded more things, but I have not had time to get to see them. I'll try to finish some of the animes that I have this week xD For me not to accumulate things.

ay, now I have wanted to break something nice ¬ ¬

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,



I started reading The Wallflower (Perfect girl evolution). On the premise seemed to My Fair Lady to the Japanese, and I suppose the end will be that, but I labor, it is super fun! I love Sunako, but I have a bad feeling that will become a prissy brat sometime ¬ ¬ A pity, because it is the character jajajaja cock a little tipiquillos boys, there are many air to Ouran, believed version

xD

I am also seeing the anime to last, I love, probably will start to read the manga at some point. I seem incredible graphics, billboard last! I think I've ever seen a well done anime. Just so I have wanted to see how the manga! And the character design I also love, is simple but detailed, I like. What

quiet day here being lazy. I have to go sit in a while, but for now ...

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Love or lust?

Create a graphic (200 x 200 max size) to Represent your "Valentines Card." It Should Have your username on it, But Otherwise dog whatever feature you want. Preferably make it something special to repre love, seeing as it is valentine's. ✖

Make a post with the subject "Love or Lust?". Put your "Card" somewhere in your post, and be sure to re-post these instructions.

✖ Then, go around other people's LJs and reply to them with either "Love" or "Lust". If you reply with "Love", you may just take their "Valentines Card". If you reply with Lust, they'll give you a dare and you must perform the task in order for the other person to give you their Valentines Card.
(It's best if the dare surrounds a Valentines theme such as "Make a post telling someone how much you love blahblahblah.." or "draw me this pair" etcetc)

✖ List all your collected cards in your original "Love or Lust?" post to show off your lovely valentines. Don't hot link the images as some People May Not Like That

My card:

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torako9 @ 2010-02-08T03: 44:00


Day

nostalgic. I do not like days like this, I get depressed. I think I need an urgent change in my life. Too

London today in my head, and I'm dying to return ...

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♥ Love Makes the world go round.

Taken kororo_minamoto

answer to this post and I'll tell a the reasons why I like you. Then Post this in your journal and spread the love.

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Fibertel, andat the c. ...

So I have no internet until next Tuesday that Fibertel is a love and sends you to arrange the service technician when they sing.
Well, I'll take it as a mature and responsible ... or would you do if not as epic cagaran one.

DIE ARGH.

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What I like about snow is the silence and tranquility that always accompany them, as if all beings in this world is thoughtful, be afraid or ashamed to disturb the peace of white blanket. The crunch of my footsteps on the snow seems almost magical ...




Sweetly the voices decay
Draw on the lines that they say
I'd lost it once before
Now it cries to me

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The icon is to call your attention

Star.Chaser @ Formspring

Announcement, I'm going to bed \u0026lt;3.