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Free. Ch. 10: Special BondsFree. Ch. 10: Special Bonds

I screamed as the strange girl pounced on me. She stuck her tongue out and hissed her tongue in front of my face. I saw two white fangs glint in the light as I looked up at her. She looked so familiar. Where had I seen her before?

"Oh come on Anabelle. Get off the poor girl." I heard a voice from the doorway.

Anabelle got off of me and flew back over to the doorway as I sat up and looked at the man in the door.

"Fionna? Are you alright?" Marshall ran downstairs over to me helping me up. He had a few scratch marks on his arms and face. "Why did you scream?"

I pointed to the man in the doorway who looked at u

Tips to fill void left by Cartoon NetworkMissing Young Justice and Green Lantern, check out some tips to help temporarily fill in the void for both shows:

First, continue to watch both shows on Cartoon Network and that way it'll help bring up the ratings.

Second, buy the DVDs cuz' who knows, if the sales are high, the network executives would probably revive the show (ex: Family Guy did the same thing not so long ago)

Third, continue to buy the remaining issues of the GLTAS tie-in comics published by DC Comics

And speaking of comics, be sure to check out the New 52 Teen Titans series and the Green Lantern ones as well because like YJ and GLTAS, they have drama, action, and a lit

CindyShe breastfeeds kittens behind closed doors.

Neji's torment

''NEJI Neji'' ! Get back here ten ten said in a playful voice, ''i've got to keep moving she knows my secret '' said nenji .''listen nenji I just wanna talk to you'' ! Ten ten said while chuckling .''hmm yea right I know she saw how I reacted when her finger jabbed me in the stomach I know exactly what she's up to. i've got to get outah here before gai an... “ before nenji could finish he let out a brief grunt after gai with his tremendous speed tackled him to the ground. AH Ha well nenji ten ten says you've got a secret well im sure you wont mind if lee and I test it out “said gai sensei..

let's prove them wrong.“Will you meet me halfway?”

“Of course.”

“See you soon.”

“Soon isn’t soon enough.”

After a hot and humid day under the sun, there had been enough moisture in the air to fuel the formation of a super cell. The bow echo came in from the west, promising relief from the call of summer with a price. It barrelled through sometime after night had fallen, when the city was lit by streetlamps swaying in the wind. Pouring rain made everything slick and lightning shook the tallest buildings still under construction, but at least the air felt cooler for a moment.

Once the rain had pitter-patte

Elemental Change ~RP Prompt~You know you are part elemental. You are ready to go and join your family friend, Thomas, and become a full fledged elemental! Thomas happily brings you up through the skies and to his house in the sky. There you settle in with your things and decide to wander the giant house and explore. You soon find Chad, another Elemental friend you know a bit. You haven't seen him for a while and happily greet him... but... he looks at you sadly, wondering why you are here. As you explain to him what's going on, he gets embarrassed, confused, and angry that you would want to be Elemental. He tries to convince you to stop, but you don't want to leave. Yo

Beyond the Subconscious Mind (prose version) Stretching across the room was the radiant glow from the moon. My curtain had just fallen from the weight of my foot. But the shine was not what had awakened me. Neither was it a dream. There was an odd sensation lurking about the shadows of my house. And I am possibly the only one, who felt this weird presence.

I had awakened in my own sweat, my clothes sticking to my moist body. I had to shift my body nearly ten times to regain conformability, but although I lay upon my back without an inch to move, I still felt abnormally aware of something.

Across the hall and into the family room, I could hear the clock singing to its regular rhythm

Sorteo de posters YAOI!!!• Para los que ya conocen mi habitación sabrán que está llena de poster, sobre todo yaoi. Últimamente organizándola me vi obligada a sacar algunos para hacer espacio y decidí donar tres de ellos, ya que sino los tendría que guardar y antes de eso prefiero que otros los aprovechen.
• No voy a decir de que series son porque quiero que sea sorpresa, lo que si tengan en cuenta que son usados (Esto incluye que estén algo quemados por el sol y gastados detrás por la cinta adhesiva) pero realmente están en muy buen estado.
• Realmente me gustaría que cualquiera del DA los pueda ganar, pero me temo que por cuestiones de distancia solo

Encounters - Damien / Ivan V.The sun was a brilliant orb in the sky, and as the clouds parted to reveal a glowing array of golden rays streaming down into the masses below, a man paused. He glanced up at the azure sky for a moment, as if deep in thought. His hair was an ebony black, and it fell in silky waves around his face, softly curling. His hair was thick and shoulder-length, immediately eye-catching at its essence.

His name was Damien.

His silhouette stood still against the brightened sky, and his blue eyes seemed to reflect the very sky he was painted against. And with a sigh he took a deep breath, shoved his hands into his pockets and continued his way forwar

Pokemon Armageddon The Beginning Part-3 Ares stood there for a moment until he says, "No...*looks at Reiki* but I will be taking my son back." Then he Soccer Kicks Fang in the face. Fang slams into the wall and fell to the ground. When struggled to get up he yelled, "All right boys, take him out!" The Mightyenas and two Rhyperiors circled around Ares to keep him from escaping. The Rhyperiors charged at him with full speed. Ares sidekicked the first Rhyperior in the face and then the second one with blinding speeds, toppling the Rhyperiors to the ground. All of the Mightyena's charged at Ares, until Ares zipped right through them and sent all of the Mightyena's aloft.The Rhyperiors

Angelic Dream, or Demonic Nightmare? CH 3I would find out sooner or later, but for now i needed to focus.

A few hours later it was lunch time. I sat at my usual table, completely alone with no one to talk to.

My sister was good at making friends. She already had so many. But me? Im kind of a loner. I had a few friends in Wontana, but they rarely hang out with me.

I sat there, poking at the fruit slices in my bowl. I wasnt really hungry. How could I be?

Anytime I were to swallow anything, there would be a large amount of pain in my stomach.

I hate this city. I hate the neighborhood. I hate the school.

I hate the people.

The kids from earlier sat at the table behind me. They us

Sportsmanship(?) Of the Vanna region, Essy, Typhie, and I were walking around in an old building, where I was getting the feel of the history, what all could have happened. As I was lost in thought, just standing there, Typhie was doing what I didn't see coming.
He was playing chess with an invisable opponent. I found it cute and beneficial(even though most would find it quite creepy and/or scary), as Eassy also thought so, too. Essy and I walked closer to watch the match, and what a match it was. In fact, it was quite in the midst of a heated battle, for both sides. He, even the atmosphere may have suggested that an earthquake wouldn't have interr

drunk porch step lingeringi know it's selfish to talk about; i know it isn't fair. first i'm making love to him; then i'm pulling your hair. you told me you've spent hours thinking about how things went totally terrible and about what you should have done instead, and i remember in my res room, when the terrible was at its peak, you were trying to call Thomas. Crystal Castles' Alice Practice was his ringtone, and he rejected your call. yeah, Alice wasn't singing anymore.

let the ash fall from your cigarette, honey; the wings are getting torn off the butterfly tonight. i was picking at the flap of skin hanging from my fingernail, dragging it down without drawing blood

Gift:EmilyValkov #1Emily watched as the snow fell to the ground. Tomorrow was her birthday and her mother couldn’t come home to join her celebration because of her having to work long hours at her lab on one of her projects.Emily sighed sadly leaving a little mist on the window. She was looking forward to seeing her mother since it had been a while seen they got to do something together.

Emily turned to look at her siblings. Tara and Tala both were fiddling with their beyblades. Tala was replacing parts while Tara happily cleaned off the fresh beyblade that Tala had repaired for her.

“Still looking at the window Em? “Tala said catching Emily

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such a little thing...A brick in the back
A brick in the back
A brick in the back
A brick in the back

Say it fast enough, over and over, and the words themselves begin to dwindle and fade and become nothing but noise. But the feeling - yes, the feeling, THAT feeling - it stays. It goes nowhere. You wear it everywhere.

You, face-down on your bedroom floor, hands behind your head, fingers laced, exorcising demons into the tan, stained carpet. Muffled, gasping. Begging; dear God, the weight!

It's that brick pinning you down.

A brick in the back
A brick in the back
A brick in the back

It's like an extra limb, or like the absence of one, there to spawn p

dead by second decade.Without moving, not even her head, facing dead-on –

She turned her eyes to the floor she was sitting on. Stained tile, almost a urine yellow, gray speckled about. Against it, her shoes, her torn-up, dirty, busted shoes in brown and black, interrupted by the fraying bottom of blue jeans. The hem cut off by a pair of safety scissors to accommodate her short stature.

She raised her eyes level. Spines of oversize books, names in big, thick, block print or flowy cursive yelled at her: Renoir, Matisse, Chagall, Da Vinci followed by Da Vinci followed by Da Vinci, Rousseau, Monet-Monet-Monet-Monet. She stared at these names, then past them unt

blindfolded.I saw her... I saw her with him. All smiling and bubbly, the way we were when we just started dating - back when we were new, sparkling. I had my proof now - she couldn't deny photographic evidence, right? A picture says a thousand words. Ain't that the truth. The pictures I had just taken with my camera, as well as the pictures that were being reflected through my retinas into my brain at that exact moment, were enough to speak a million.

It all started with a business card.

It was early January. I remember because the day I found the card, she was wearing the brilliant red sweater I had bought her for Christmas. She said she loved it, and

soulful shade of blue.I can't stand the cold, she thought as she began walking the seven blocks home from the coffee shop – a quaint little place, with local photographer's landscape portraits hung framed on the walls and a rack of cheesy "Being apart is RRRRUFF!" postcards with pretty, sad-faced puppies. The sky was gray, predicting rain; no different than the on-again-off-again showers the past two weeks.
She walked slow, with headphones on and her back hunched over, eyes locked on her banged-up shoes and the sidewalk beneath them, the only other scenery she caught being bushes lining suburban homes out of the corner of her eye. The wind blew hard, pushi

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i do not kiss guns.

by ~la-romantique, Mar 8, 2007, 6:12:31 PM
Literature / Prose / Non-Fiction / General Non-Fiction

I see her staring, glaring, pinned perfectly to a terracotta stained bedroom wall -- she is staring, glaring, holding a gun vertically against her mouth --
A sexy, seductive gun, to go with her sexy, seductive everything.
And I think, I want to be her.
A sassy, crass, ass-kicking platinum blonde with a face so pale, so porcelain, so devoid of pigment, with no undereye circles and no pores to claim; eyebrows thin and black in a perfect curve, the perfect curves of her eyes lined in what I imagine is the same black pencil as her eyebrows.  Her eyelashes black.  Her face white.  And her lips a sultry, fiery, undeniable deep ruby red --
I want to be her.
She's one of those punk rock girls, I think.  I'm sure she has a name, and in a scene I don't belong to, I'm sure the name is housesold.  I don't know who she is, I don't know what band she belongs to, what songs she sings, but I imagine --
I bet she sings of beating people down, of leaving bars without paying the tabs, of change by force, of revolt, of revolution, of fighting to take what is rightfully hers and damned if you get in her way.  I bet she leaves the stage with her bleached blonde bangs stuck to her forehead, her mascara running lines down to the corners of her mouth so she looks something like a doll.  The straps of her cut-up band tees falling off her smooth shoulders and her miniskirt hiked up way too far.  I bet she leaves the stage snarling, I bet she leaves the stage a mess with smudged lipstick on the shiny silver microphone like she's leaving her smudged lipstick on that shiny silver gun.  I bet she leaves the stage to walk out back and have a smoke with the boys, her boys, her tongue sharp and her voice dark and low and lovely.  I bet she banters with them about assholes and cunts and about revolts and revolutions, and where will they crash for the night and where will they play next and fuck where can they get a god damned drink in this buttfuck of a town --
I want to be her.
I imagine she comes home to a dingy apartment with posters and spraypaint on the walls and a torn-up pink pastel loveseat in the center, facing a wall with no television.  I imagine her boyfriend is one of those punk rock boys too, with a fallen mohawk and a tacklebox face and wearing jean patched-and-sharpied vests and tight ripped black pants and studded everything.  I bet he's got the anarchy symbol tattooed on the back of his neck and when they fuck it is loud and violent and her nails dig into that anarchy tattoo, and I bet her tits are perfect and her hips are perfect too, and I bet she's a screamer and not afraid to talk dirty.  I bet when they're done fucking they both immediately light up a cigarette and they don't speak, just put on The Germs and watch smoke rise from their lips, her ruby red lipstick lips, that leave their mark on the butt of that cigarette, that leave their mark on the head of a microphone, that leave their mark on a gun, a smoking gun, silver smoke from a cigarette leaving her lips like silver smoke from a silver smoking gun --
I want to be her.
I bet she's afraid of nothing.
But me, I'm afraid of everything.  I look at myself in the mirror, this meek, mouselike fairy thing, my large, pore-ridden nose shoved in the folds of a book and my eyebrows so fair they're barely there; I am afraid of everything.  I do not speak of anything remotely revolutionary, I do not kiss guns, I do not fuck loud.  I do not leave my mark anywhere, not on microphones, on shot glasses or bottles of cheap beer, on the necks of boys with anarchy tattoos.  I do not leave anything behind, I am always running, I am always hiding, I am always afraid --
I bet she never sleeps.  I bet she never gets tired.
I'm tired.
I want to be her.

i do not kiss guns.by ~la-romantique

Literature / Prose / Non-Fiction / General Non-Fiction

Mature Content

probably one of my favorite pieces i've written in a while.

!radioactive-bagel Dec 30, 2008

This is brilliant!
The slight repetition adds just enough emphasis.

~BackstagePrince Jun 19, 2007

I think you're great.

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i do not kiss guns.

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