Doing nothing and wasting my life...

guh.

Sun, 20 May 2007 17:29:29 GMT

So, I spent the weekend wanking off to pathetic and predictable shoujo mangas, and picturezzzz of Kakashi. Helf-nekiddd onezz :D

Metaphorically speaking, of course. I mean the wanking off thing XD.

God, I wish I could be an animal. Like, a cat. Or a dog. Or even a turtle, WHATEVER. That way I could wank off to shoujo mangas and Kakashi and Faith no More EVERY frigging DAY.

And my sister just asked in that bitchy/i'm-the-hot-chick-here tone of hers just HOW is she supposed to calculate the radius if she has only a diameter. God, sometimes I love her. But sometimes I just want to SPANK her.

And she's FIFTEEN.

Schindler's List

Sat, 14 Apr 2007 22:07:06 GMT

Just watched it. Surprised it took me so much time... I don't think I would give it justice, since I'm so inept at describing things.

I will say it nonetheless :P
I'm amazed that Spielberg avoided the loftiness he excels so much at - like in Amistad. It's what made the movie so brilliant, I think. And the pictures, and Liam Neeson... I adore him everywhere he plays, though I suppose his style is the same in every film and he's not that much of a great actor. ~~(I hadn't watched his every movie, so you never know.)~~ I also loved Ralph Fiennes with his overpowering eyes. They can captivate you with their fierceness, and he conveyed the insanity and deliberate cruelty better than anyone would have.

At first, when I've spotted few Polish actors, I thought it suitable (?) that some should play the part of Germans. They did. I was glad, truth be told. It would be dreadful if they wouldn't have. I don't really think that all Germans were bad, and that it was their fault...

Well, no, actually, it *was* their fault, but, I mean, EVERYONE can be like Nazi. This is what makes it so dangerous. This is what makes the next person dangerous. I suppose me, too.

And now, I'm hungry, so goodnight, my F-list.

One of these days I'm going to get a life or something RESEMBLING it

Sat, 14 Apr 2007 17:47:47 GMT

YOU JUST WAIT AND SEE.

Ha! I'm caps-lock-y here :D. I am spending waaaaay too much time with my computer. Somehow, this tires me - which, in turn, creeps me out, since I sit on my big fat ass whole day and leer (courtesy of
tamlane, whose Blaise/Hermione fics are *stunning*! If you didn't take the hint - CHECK THEM OUT). I'm growing to be such a perv.

WAIT. I'VE GROWN TO BE A PERV. hah.

My friend has gone and got herself a boyfriend, which is very nice and all, since she is glowing. really. like a pregnant woman, an option which i don't think i should consider. oh God, I'm CONSIDERING this *smashes her head on the desk*. She is not pregnant. I think. She doesn't look it. It's not my business :P Maybe she just doesn't know this. Who knows? One woman didn't recognize the symptoms and one day, just gave birth. Which was ~~stupid idiotic pathetic~~ thoughtless, but you never know.

Why women can't be happy without a healthy and attentive male around? WHY???

I'm going to go and get myself a hobby, instead, something like parachutes. Or ...erm... climbing...? (AM I ACTUALLY GOING TO EXERCISE? hahahaHA. Riiiiiiight.). I've got an idea for a Sylar Heroes fic, that I will probably royally fuck up. Anything. *Anything* not go and rape this stunning, sexiest Blaise-like male *sauntering* around. Gah. I have my books, alright. But my eyes get tired, though I love them with unbridled and consuming passion, now especially Catch-22 which is just...just...GAH.

On a ~~happy~~ happier note, I'm going to see tori Amos and Bloc Party in about two months XD.

Haha. And check out these two:

http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/42854459/: smile for the camera: with Disney's princesses and non-princesses, though there's no Mulan there *pouts*

http://hito76.deviantart.com/: and this gallery, which makes even Weasel handsome.

interview thing

Mon, 09 Apr 2007 10:13:39 GMT

The rules are:

1. Leave a comment.
2. I ask you five question. Which you answer, naturally.
3. You post the answers to your journal.
4. You also post the rules and the same offer.
5. And this goes on.

So, considering scarcely anyone will comment, I will have no trouble thinking of questions *grins*.

my questions, from
des_butterfly

1. Can you swim?

Yes, I can, somewhat.

2. Have you ever eaten peanut butter straight from the jar?

Oh God, of course, I did. It tastes better when eaten that way :D.

3. Finish the sentence. Rain makes me feel ______.

Rain makes me feel cosy and like reading in a plushy armchair (which I don't have, sadly) with a cup of tea.

4. Favourite movie?

ONE movie? Damn. I adore Apocalypse Now, Star Wars old trilogy, Godfather trilogy, Disney's Beauty and the Beast, Two Weeks Notice, and a whole bunch of others, though I don't have a favourite, per se.

5. What's your birthstone?

I would have to check... yeah, it's sapphire.

And now, I have to go to family dinner thing, which really is just a great bore. Blah.

Fri, 06 Apr 2007 17:22:22 GMT

Been reading "Lord of the Flies", and at the beginning, I've been thinking: "Why isn't there any girl? A girl would make everything right, like do a laundry." Riiiiiiiight. Such a misandrist at times, I am.

And without syntax, as well :D.

These are, of course, not all of my reflections on this novel, but I doubt anyone would read, should I write them all.
Well, shoot me: I like Simon :P:P:P.
Happy Easter, to all of you :)).

Fri, 16 Feb 2007 18:49:29 GMT

Been feeling a bit blah and unsatisfied for a while now - I'm not getting enough sleep now with all that projects and sleeping in the same bed as my sister. Checking at 1 a.m. if our dog is alive by looking at his pupils and heartbeat was fun though. My sister's fish tries to commit suicide at most inappropriate hours as well. God, I'm babbling now.

I think I'm going to take a long, long bath and just read. And read, read, read.

Just spotted this guy with the most sensuous voice, big hands, and haughty look *is breathless*.

A fic, and my blabbering mouth

Sat, 20 Jan 2007 22:43:17 GMT

Been working on it since forever. Well, thinking about it. I definitely did some quality thinking *leers*. You'll get that once you read it. I'm not saying it's very good, in a writing-sense of good, but I think the idea behind is excellent, in a *writhing* sense of good.

Title: The Perks of Being a Shinobi
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applied.
Summary: i've been waiting for this moment all my life but it's not quite right. Silversun Pickups “Lazy Eye". A PWP, sasusaku.
Rating: R, I think.
Word Count: 1, 539
A/N: I didn’t like my work very much, but the hell. And the summary is crap, but it was easier this way *smirks*

It was eight years since Sasuke’s betrayal. Eight harsh, bloody years, a great deal of them spent in uncomfortable silence and beds. Eight years of sore muscles, for *God’s* sake.

No man was worth it. Including the Hyuuga.

She stepped on the graveled path, hearing the irritating crunching of the rocks. It hurt her ears, made her flinch despite herself – the life of a shinobi was spent in trying to keep the silence, and now, - now she was carelessly throwing away the rules to stomp in frustration. Steady flow of the river, on her right side, soothed her nerves temporarily, and when she came into the forest, she unconsciously changed her pace to the slow and painstakingly calculated.

(Today were her birthday. Her birthday!

And where she was? In a bloody forest, instead of happily getting drank in some seedy pub, and eating a cloying cake, with her friends. Probably getting quite a few furtive glances from men, as she wasn’t so bad – or so she liked to think.

She was quite pretty, with a bit short hair, (too short, like someone told her), and penetrating, innocent green eyes. A bit curvy, and a bit short. Not enough curvy, and too short, for her some time ago. Now, she was much more self-assured.

Pet, they called her. Her fellow shinobis. They weren’t killed, and they bought presents and food.

Fair trade.)

The bushes in front of her, so familiar (she vaguely remembered that she and Ino played hide-and-seek around here, and had their imaginative house in the small, cozy area; Ino was *always* a husband), the bushes told her that right behind them was the clearing. She bent over, and hearkened. Her jounin uniform, she noted absentmindedly, got worn out, so it would be good for her to buy a new one. The red sign on her arm was hanging on just one thread. And whose fault was that?

For a moment, a second, she thought she saw a blur of dark blue, in that gap between the leaves, on the left.

But it couldn’t be, she thought with a lurch of her stomach.

It couldn’t be!

After all, she would know right away and for sure, wouldn’t act like a hesitant pansy like now.

(She wasn’t the Legendary Crush Girl for nothing.

She was a scourge of men on every continent, every village, and the legends of her beauty, loyalty and grace were far beyond true – and so it marked the extent of her fame.

Sometimes – too often, since she was a wee bit vain, - she prided herself in knowing that her teammates had heard the rumours too, and had to respect it.)

(She tried to think of the presents she would get.

A book from Neji, for sure – they shared the love, and she told him about the book she desperately wanted to have. She anticipated its smell, and the rustling of the pages.

It’s not that she wanted the presents so much, but she was a bit... itchy to see them.

Lee and Naruto probably--

Wait... The blur--)

It was unmistakable. The shade of dark blue she spent hours, years to memorize, was before her.

She didn’t trust herself to stand, afraid of making noise. Her fingers clenched on the rough bark, grazing the skin of her palms.

She could see him clearly now. He sat there, muscles shifting just under the dark material of his shirt, and mulled. The butterflies were making a ruckus in her stomach.

That was the word she always searched for that peculiar, brooding mimic of his. He mulled.

When she saw him, right before her, vulnerable to any attack, unguarded, she felt no remorse. No harsh feelings. Just the tender feeling, the spreading warmth that told her just how exactly she loved the bugger below.

In a split of second, with a swoosh, she lightly, but steadily bounced from the branch, and jumped in the middle of the clearing, before his eyes.

The warmth of his body, emanating, made her knees weak, like it always did. Infallible.

‘I got you!’ she told him, and he smiled. She couldn’t believe her luck, how surprisingly simple it had been.

And then he hn-ed. It was always a bad sign, him hn-ing.

She gasped, when she felt strong arms circling her from behind, and one leg intruding between her thighs. She didn’t need to turn around to know who was that. How stupid she was! How careless!

When she was cursing herself for being distracted, she was already immobilized and he was nuzzling her neck. The Sasuke in front of her slowly got up. So, the one behind her was a Kage Bunshin. That she could figure out, at least.

‘Stop it, Sasuke.’ She enunciated. She knew she was no match for him, but it didn’t mean she liked to be reminded.

He just smirked into her neck, his breath teasing the skin. Her own breath hitched.

‘Happy birthday.’ He told her, his deep voice breaking the silence, almost violently so, before nipping down at her exposed skin. She uncounsciously bended her head to give him access, while surprised he remembered. It flattered her.

She felt hesitant, but the touch of his skin had clouded her eyes.

The true Sasuke stared at her lustfully, but didn’t touch her, while the hands of his replication had podnieść the hem of her shirt, slowly making their way up. With a small moan, she bended in the touch, trying to get more. The fracture of his hands – harsh and big, made her all the more aroused.

She felt the hardness pressing at her ass, and she gave in the sensation.

She should figure out the situation, maybe even be indignified, but she couldn’t believe how aroused she was, with Sasuke watching her, and the other one – which was Sasuke, but at the same time wasn’t, it was a half-stranger to her! – fucking her. She couldn’t remember being this aroused for a long time.

Her thoughts definitely weren’t this coherent. She thought with touches, with feelings, and even though she felt the overwhelming need to close her eyes and enjoy the sensation of his rough hands harshly groping her breasts and slowly, very slowly, making the way her cunt, she couldn’t pry her eyes from the Sasuke before her.

He watched her with fascination, and the look in his eyes told her that he tried to memorize every detail of this. His face was focused and blissful, as was the site of the growing bulge in his pants. His hands immediately found their way, freeing his cock.

The thoughts of others seeing it had long ago fled from her head. And she trusted Sasuke. Yes, she trusted him the most, all those years.

The tender thoughts of love also fled, when his long, aristocratic fingers had dived deeply into her cunt, two at once, and began move fast. She gasped, and started trembling. The sight of Sasuke stroking his member was heightening her arousal, and she felt she couldn’t take it any longer.

She made a whining sound of protest, while thrusting her arse into his erection when his fingers left her body. The frustration, the building feelings in her abdomnen were almost snapping, and she felt she was going to snap in two from all the pleasure and focus, the intensity. She was sure Sasuke-kun felt the same, as she stared at him.

Her gaze was foggy from the desire, and the sound of the panties, torn away forcefully, and itching of the skin of her thighs weren’t noticed.

After all, it is proven that in person’s mind can only be one thought a moment, and now, the onyl thing in her mind was that writhing, curling thing in her tummy, the pleasure that made her moan, sigh and gasp at the same moment. She was afraid to lose it, afraid to breathe.

She meowed his name, and in a second, his cock was thrusting in her from behind, and she bended to achieve a better angle.

The warmth between her legs, the sleeky juices were a heaven to her. The sight of Sasuke in front of her coming – second time! Was it even possible? – was as well.

She screamed a bunch of nothings, and she called out that she loves him. He scratched her breasts, and bitten down on her neck, almost drawing blood. Gripping her possesively, he came, and she came, and the real Sasuke came as well, both of them with a soft grunt and a hazy gaze. She panted softly, as she felt the bunshin behind her explode, and imagined a puff of smoke.

She would miss it, she decided. But her legs had given away, and she softly fell on the soft grass, Sasuke kneeling near her. She reached out, and he grabbed her head and kissed her deeply. He maneuvered her body so it laid spread in his knees, and her head was on his arm.

When they broke, they sat still for a few moments.

‘You really are a prodigy, Sasuke-kun.’ His hands were petting her body lazily.

‘Hn.’

Shinobi rule #1: never complain where your husband insists on training you everyday, even on your birthday.

webomic recs

Tue, 26 Dec 2006 00:40:13 GMT

Have you, by any chance, read Da Vinci Code? Everyone made such a rucus about it, so I read it.

And made fun of it. God, I mean, what's all this about? It was moderately well-written, but not amazingly so. (~~someone may think: you're the one to say that, but my answer would be:~~ ~~FUCK you.)~~

Some chapters were really (really) short, and every one was ended with a dramatic passage. I mean, it was like a feast to my cynical self. (Man, couldn't the author be anymore lame? Yeah, wait, all his dumb followers ARE.)

I am mentioning it now only because I became addicted. To webcomics.

I spend, literally, few good hours a day reading thousands (and when I say thousands, I mean thousands) of comic strips. Each one ended with a witty punchline.

Irony of this situation banged me on the head the other day.

i just thought I would share the love with you :)

Some of the comics I have read so far:

http://boymeetsboy.keenspot.com/d/20000922.html: BoyMeetsBoy, the god of the slash ~~love~~ comics. Sandra K. Fuhr rocks all the way. Personally,I love Harley (~~but even more so, Colin and Foxman).~~ trust me, it's witty and sweet. (And I don't read slash usually. )

http://friendlyhostility.com/d/20040108.html: Sandra K. Fuhr once more. She's a goddess. My two favourite characters all the way. And uncle Rafi is such a sweet satanist. (Nurses and cookies. So not. Nurses and cookies and nipples. So the new Christmas gingerbread.) Remember, read it AFTER BMB. (you think I wouldn't know if you didn't? Think again.)

http://www.penny-arcade.com/comic/1998/11/18: I may or may not recognize most of the games talked about there. I may or may not have hots for the Div.

http://www.5ideways.com/2005/20051013-1.php: Sandra's more serious work. Creepy. (one word: Axolotl.)

http://pennyandaggie.com/d/20040906.html: Penny and Aggie: not all that witty, but painfully realistic. (the painful past? one of the few things where it is not tragically pathetic)

http://redstring.strawberrycomics.com/01/01-intro.html: Red String: mushy. One of the relationships intrigues me, though, so I keep up. Plus, it's really heart-warming.

http://www.shortpacked.com/d/20050117.html: ha. It's great, plus it has an asshole. You know, not just a tough guy, who is secretly sweet. It has *Mike*. I didn't know whether to continue, till I saw Mike with a set of knives, and saying to some lady, I quote: "Your kids will love it".

Have fun!

Sun, 17 Dec 2006 20:45:17 GMT

Hm. I look pretty right now, you know. Just looked in a mirror, and I really do*grins*. A bit romantic, with a orange-pinkish sweater, a bit too big lips (not Angelina Jolie's!), curly short hair and pale skin. I just saw myself, thought: 'hey, I look even pretty!'.

It *is* worth taking a notice. Do YOU look pretty now?

Sat, 25 Nov 2006 23:50:07 GMT

Got absolutely nothing to say. And I like it that way. Because, - screw this, it's half past midnight and I'm listening to The Shins.

I like when the band has 'the' before their name. It sounds cool. I mean, The Beatles, The Clash, The Ramones?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mf84nPhPVIM&mode=related&search= check out this :)

ramblings

Sun, 29 Oct 2006 15:10:55 GMT

For awhile now, I've been thinking about - well, as usual, about me. And about immigration policies. How does one solve this problems? Because, for one, I don't think it's something that's going to be stopped (as some wish), or something worth stopping - the term 'borders' has become so elusive recently. The inflow to better-developed countries, like England, is unstoppable. This is what I can comprehend.

What I cannot, however, is the discrimination against immigrants. I know they are usually labor force, living in poor conditions, increasing the crime rate of the country. It's all true. But don't they alleviate ageing of population, fill the unemployment gap and provide 'brain gain'? Honestly.

Soon, I'll be an immigrant myself. (Not soon enough, though.) So, I'm not that eager to find myself faced with people shunning me just because I'm from different country.

(Heh, the things happening in my country are enough to make people run away, regardless of the economic growth.)
Anyway, I'm obssessed lately with H/Hr. I know - ewwww.

Anyone here read 'Feminine Mystique'?

Because I should have updated sooner....

Wed, 25 Oct 2006 21:18:09 GMT

Geez. I'm so busy this day, I don't even get to sit for hours and write. Ok, so 'm not that busy, just lazy :P but now that I've got web upstairs I will be able to write something here. Just a story I wrote that nobody will read (so what? :D)

Have fun living, people!

Title: Middle Child Syndrome.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Eclair and Un-oh have a fight. It’s not the first (God, no!), not the last (hopefully), but it’s there. And it has a Middle Child Syndrome, appearently.

‘Hello.’

‘Hello. Shut the door, please.’ Lumiere looked, stupefied, as Éclair came in into her house (not home, well, to her home, but it was way too non-cozy to be called home, in Éclair opinion.), and eased out the bags out of her tightly clasped fists. She reached out to the doorknob, and closed the door.

She glanced furtively at her partner. Her cheerful eyes, and thinned lips told her, after (way too much) years of being with her, that asking would equal to nothing, save a nod of the head and vague explanation, like ‘I felt like sleeping on your couch. I like your couch, it’s so fluffy!’ or ‘Look! Shiny!’ (which Lumiere would fall for, as greedy as she was), so, instead, she asked:

‘Want a opiece of cheesecake?’, which was more like a rhethorical question, since the day her partner wasn’t hungry was the day she would start listening to neo-punk-rock music. Which was never ever.

‘It depends. Is there a dinner before it?’

--

It wasn’t the first time Eclair had so unceremoniously dropped her bags in Lumiere’s hall, and as long as the stack of delicious, melting-in-your-mouth chocolate candies, hidden in the glazed spizarnia, (just behind the cupcakes, a bit to the right), down in her kitchen, was untouched, she didn’t feel the need to ask. It was Eclair’s (and that little twerp’s) sprawa, and she had a strict keeping-her-nose-out-of-everyone’s-business-policy (some called it politeness).

As far as she was informed, the two’s life was a dream-come-true (sielanka) in a non-dream-come-true way. They argued, they discussed, debated, sparred, and none of their subject was highly sophisticated, there was no way anything made of glass could survive in their flat, he liked the vanilla, and she cream, but somehow, their relationship worked. No one knew how, though.

The fact that the green-haired sarcastic back-stabber resided in an adult body that turned many female eyes, and that Eclair was as beautiful, fresh and happy as always, could have helped.

The truth is, she supposed (as she had a habit of observing people), that gradually the gut-wrenching hate they felt for each other melted into mutual respect, and as soon as the two saw each other as worthy opponents, not someone figuring on their People To Kill lists, sooner or later they noticed that the second most important person they have, is in short, the other one. The person that they could associate with, the one that they remembered since always, but didn’t know too much to be like a family.

It just happened sooner than later, because before Lumiere and A-oh could blink, they were packing and moving in. And, no, not because they were taking another step in their relationship, but because they would have much more time to shag.

At least, that’s how Un-ou spelled it, which didn’t stop A-ou to comment (‘How sweet!’), which earned him a glare, or two, and a smile from lumiere.

Surprisingly, two years and approximately 67 fights later, they were still together.

--

‘It’s a nice day, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah, so... Thursday-y?’

The drops of rain were drumming against the windowframe, and Eclair just closed the last window, to stop the cold from entering. The sky was heavy with the grey clouds. In short, it was one of Lumiere’s favorite kind of weather, that just begged for people to stay in home, with a blanket and flavored tea (cinnamon, or maybe blueberry and vanilla one), and with a good book in the lap. The warm room, light of massive candles and all laziness kind of weather.

‘You do this regardless of the weather, y’know? God, you’re so old.’

‘Why, yes, I am. Just because you have a week break from your boyfriend doesn’t mean you have to be so bitter, Eclair.’ She looked, flinching inwardly, at her friend, - always co careless and happy, not caring about a thing, who was now...well, careless and happy, not caring about a thing, but with dark circles around her eyes and a bit melancholic air about her.

The petite girl never really doubted that her partner and her other halv (A-ou reffered to them as Un-ou and his other halv) genuinely cared for each other, but they so much insisted on avoiding any mentions of love-you’s or signs of caring, wanted it to be nothing meaningful (Lumiere knew that in their lives there were too many meaningful things, God, did she know) that other people consequently thought of it as such.

Nothing farther from the truth.

Or so it seemed, looking at Eclair with a knowledge that Un-ou looked far worse, probably with a heavy hang-over and a black-eye (he had a ridiculously uncivilized way of un-stressing himself, according to Lumiere and rest of the world).

Well, the hangover and black eye part were quite a sure thing, because just an hour ago she talked to the white-haired philosopher, not that she thought apropriate to tell Eclair that.

‘I’m not bitter about it. Not at all. I’m just bored, and the lack of sex is, like, a shock treatment to me.’ The bluntness was one of the disturbing thing she inherited from her man.

Lumiere was no fool. Her IQ reached 180 points, after all.

‘You didn’t mention the low amount of sugar in your system.’ She said, alarmed, looking up from her Dickens’ book. ‘You always mention that.’

‘Oh, bugger.’ Eclair murmured, but not silent enough for Lumiere not to hear that . ‘I know that ‘I love you’ won’t stop you from destroying me, but maybe ‘I’ll buy you a dinner’ will suffice?’

‘...’

‘I thought not.’

--

‘Hi!’

‘Hey, Viola. Hello, Ceasario. Can I stay a few days?’

‘Of course! Yay, it’s gonna be fun, Ec-chan.’ Viola squeeked, grabbing her hand and leading her to the living room, intertwinig their fingers on the way.

Viola was sometimes so lovable, she had to restrain herself from hugging the child-like represant of the law.

‘But you provide food.’

--

‘So, you see, that’s how it was.’

An unbelieving look.

‘Yep, I know – to have such a strong fight, that started because we wanted to have a make-up sex? But, well, it seemed like a good idea at that time. I know, I know, but it somehow escalated and went boom.’

A sigh.

‘But he said my hair are bushy!’

Unblinking gaze.

‘So, maybe, they are, but he didn’t have to say this!’

‘Don’t tell me to acknowledge the serious-ness of the thing we have going on, because there is no need to. It just is the way it is. So what, I cook on Mondays, Wednesdays and Saturdays and he on Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday, and on Friday we take a take-away. And he tries to not leave his clothes everywhere. And I buy his music- not that I listen to it. I doesn’t mean that I love him, that just means we are - oh God, that DOES mean I do, right?’

Furrowed brow.

‘I feel so...so tainted. I never though I would love him, after he tried to kill me so many times.’

A wry grin to show that was funny in a quirky way.

‘So, we have to make it right. But, he kind of has to come after me. It always happens in Viola’s romance books. I read a few during the last day. It’s fun!’

Silence, that probably could have meant the listener is dead of disgust.

‘On the other hand... the sooner we... I feel I am out, just give me a few minutes to pack. Thanks, Ceasario, it was fun!’

A quick hug, and she was out of the door.

--

A knock on the door, although she could have used a doorbell. Or nail the door down. But the knock seemed a disturber of the peace, and it resounded down the hall of her apartment building, and suddenly she felt uneasy, wanting to turn and run down the hall, to exit. But the door creaked and she was no coward.

He opened the door, and looked awful. The hair were hanging, unwashed, the circles under his eyes were prominent, and he seemed to have lost weight. His vanity, his ego was like his inner self, so she no longer could doubt the fact he may thought her valuable. Important was more the word, though she felt apprehensive using it.

‘Important.’ She mumbled forcefully.

‘What?’ He asked her, studiously, apprehensively.

‘You look awful.’

‘You do, too.’

‘At least I have washed.’

‘I did too. If I didn’t, you wouldn’t have touch me when you got here, would you?’ He seemed to lost his wittiness, but not the annoying trait of being always right.

‘Do we have to talk about it?’

‘Yes.’ She told him with a tired sigh.

‘You’re not going to move out, are you? You understand you weren’t here for five days. Five days. That is the longest fight we ever had. Whatever did you thought when you proposed fighting so we had make-up sex again?!’

Her eyes squinted – he seemed quite excited at the idea at that time, but the tirade didn’t stop. ‘I mean honestly, how long can a guy mope around?’

Her breath hitched. Does that meant...does that meant he didn’t went to the bar, and hit on the first pretty waitress there?

Deeply inside, she knew she would kill him and eat his insides, should he do so, but then, she was always imagining such things. And then, he says he doesn’t!

His tirade stopped. Or rather, it was stopped. By a pair of lips, as she came a bit closer and kissed him.

The door creaked, and shut close, the number sway a little.

hahahahaahaahaha. So WHAT?

Wed, 09 Aug 2006 10:05:43 GMT

You Are 52% Gross

You're more than a little gross, but probably no more gross than the average person. Maybe it's time to drop some of those disgusting habits that could eventually embarrass you!

How Gross Are You?

Yo! Hermione-centric drabble

Wed, 09 Aug 2006 09:23:03 GMT

Title: Weeds.
Author: crazy_escapist
Word count: 155, so it's a drabble. Almost.
Characters: Hermione-centric, Harry, Ron.
Summary: Out of the flowers Hermione got in the course of her life, she had her favourite.
A/N: Dedicated to MYSELF.

Out of the flowers Hermione got in the course of her life, she had her favourite.

It was a gift from Harry and Ron, in the spring during the 2nd year. She had been spending her time in library, and they were mostly outside (studying). One day, when they met, back in common room, they gave her a bouquet of wildflowers, gathered by themselves, just because.

It was such an out of character and unusual thing for them to do, she was astounded. It wasn't beautiful, by any means.

She didn't keep it to dehydrate (didn't know why afterwards) and she didn't tell them how much she treasured it (didn't know how).

But every time she felt really, really, really bad - when she doubted the sincerity of their feelings towards her (she was paranoid like that), was worried about Harry, mad on Ron or just couldn't sleep, she smiled like she had a secret.

Kiddy Grade, Eclair-centric fic.

Sun, 06 Aug 2006 14:42:17 GMT

Just because no one writes in that fandom, and I love it XD.

Title: Puzzle
Author/Artist: crazy_escapist
Rating: Teen
Summary: Horror and moral terror are your friends. If they are not, then they are enemies to be feared. [Apocalypse Now]

‘You should act more lady-like.’

She had grimaced – as expected of her, and laughed in uneasy manner, but not caring at all.

She was not supposed to, anyway.

Those who made this remarks already liked her for who she was – a careless, perky, bit happy-go-lucky kind of girl.

Some that knew of the nature of her job, called her a monster, the one that killed with a smile on her face (and she DID), the one that didn’t think of consequences, that was rash and enjoyed herself (in a BATTLE!). Those of them who liked her, expected her to be a bit stupid and acted like she was, because it could be some kind of justification (but she wasn’t!).

They talked with her, they talked behind her back (isn’t Éclair cruel? Who would suspect? monster…) and she knew and didn’t care.

Because they had NO IDEA.

Because she knew the horror. She knew that horror has a face... And that you must make a friend of horror. Horror and moral terror are your friends. If they are not, then they are enemies to be feared.

She felt the blood on her face, warm, blood slicks on her mouth when she was ALL alone, and none was there beside her (there were millions beside her), she cried over the bodies of enemies (and didn’t knew WHY), she felt the insanity lurking in her mind, the thousand voices inside her head during the night that told her bawdy and bizzarre things, the voices that kept her half awake. She smelled the odour of dead bodies, and puked all over her clothes – but that wasn’t the worst.

She had seen the dead bodies, but she hadn’t killed them, and it was what was the worst.

She had seen the killing. Seen the women begging for life, seen the raping, heard the laugh of the lecherous soldiers that would always forever ring in her ears afterwards.

She was guilty of the catastrophe on That Planet. She was guilty of indifference. She was guilty of being the bystander. She was guilty of being late.

She was on the edge of insanity, beyond caring, but the world wouldn’t end, and she wouldn’t give up first.

And she wasn’t stupid (it was just an excuse not to hate her, not to fear her), and she figured that if she didn’t care it would be alright. She shouldn’t think of it. She should think of something happy. She should be happy.

She thought how long for the others would take to realize. To survive.

No, she didn’t think that. Maybe 150 years ago, she would have, but now, she didn’t.

She was content, she felt and she didn’t, and she didn’t care at all.

She was not supposed to, anyway.

Dear diary,

Sat, 05 Aug 2006 15:07:30 GMT

PLEASE DO SOMETHING, BECAUSE IN ABOUT 30 MINUTES I WILL DIE.

Goddamn it, I couldn't sleep at ALL, just because I SUCK at cooking, and my vegetarian burger didn't come out the way it was supposed to, so I was vomiting for, like, 4 hours, and my heart hurt, and I got a split personality in my sleep, and they all were kind of STUPID, saying wacky things.

And I lost ten pounds (TEN POUNDS, PEOPLE, it IS something for a girl whose sister looks like fuckin' Eva Longoria), and I cannot even triumph,- it would be kind of RUDE, because I weigh now as much as my friend who is ten centimeters shorter or the other friend who weighs about twice as I (but she is SO amazing, she doesn't need it), and I would turn out to be a self-absorbed diet-obsessed egoistic bimbo.

Which I expect myself to be, anyway.

And soon I'll probably work again, and I dread this. OKAYYYYYYYYY, so it's not a hard work in some coalmine, or anything, I just work as a hostess in a perfume shop.

BUT IT SUCKS. How much longer do I have to listen to comments like 'You look amazing in this shirt, but I would like you better without it' and not whack the bastard with Chanel no.5 on the head???? Or guys who come in on Valentine's Day and want 2 samples (which are for free) of a perfume as a present for a wife ('please, fill it as much as you can, she will be happier.'!?)

HONESTLY.

So, there is probably a man who looks like Bill Weasley (but with dark hair) upstairs, and I look as if Kraken had just chewed me and spit me out.

But I don't care about men, anymore, noooooo, I don't.

So, seeing as I am about to die (I have a FEVER [around 36 Centigrades!] and my tummy hurts, and my parents gave me a ding-dong to call them, but took it away [okay, so I played with it, but SO WHAT?]) I made a list of things to do before I die:

watch Napoleon Dynamite, Pretty in Pink, and The Breakfast Club
learn Swedish (one word: Millencolin!)
eat as much chocolate as I can
UNvirgin me
you know, read all of those books on my list, along with the ones that DIS told me to read (but I read Anna Karenina now, because I like it, ~~and I can show off later that I read Tolstoy~~ XD
write that fics with quotes from Apocalypse Now (I know that the movie is spooky, but I love it SO much, I stole it from my dad)
be NICE to ~~that wench~~ my sister
have 100 pounds, hehe, so I can seduce and use men. ~~(I'm already doing it anyway)~~
kill the WB
give back all those CD's that I know I have somewhere, and I pretend that I don't (as soon as I find them!)
no vomiting on random items
stop talking to that poster above my bed (the one with Star Wars)
save the world

KG drabble, Franz×Eclair

Wed, 02 Aug 2006 14:54:36 GMT

Title: Picture Perfect

Author: crazy_escapist

Pairing: Franz×Eclair, at least that's what I decided - but it can be anyone, really.

Rating: Teen

Genre: Romance, general, (or angst if you think about the outcome).

Summary: He loves her.

Word Count: 145

A/N: I didn't know where to place it, but I hadn't gone wild in KG fandom for ages, so here. I know it's pretty useless, but I like to think it's not.

He sometimes, in those rare moments that he can hear his own thoughts, when the world is silent enough, his minds clears and he understands.

He understands that he loves her – a human, a bit pretty but not beautiful, her face ever so often (more often than rarely) scrunching in most unattractive ways, sometimes funny and witty and sometimes not, pretty average, bit loud and brash, a self-absorbed drama queen.

And he loves her.

In the same time, he knows that if she was the most beautiful girl in the world, a prodigy with special powers, a reincarnation of someone important, some fuckin’ Sailor Jupiter or whatever that saved the world – and repeatedly, a hero without a flaw, - he knows that he would still love her.

This is what makes him believe he really, truly, loves her and this is what makes his heart clench.

You know, do you - when talking about pairs, pairings and all of this - do you get the feeling that the name you say first, that that person is dominating in relationship?

Maybe it is a load of bullshit, but I like to think that Franz would be like that XD.

Hee!

narusaku

Sun, 30 Jul 2006 12:59:09 GMT

Title: Epiphany.
Author: crazy_escapistSummary: Because she was proud and egoistic, and because she still is.
Pairing: narusaku, a bit of sasusaku
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applied.
Rating: Teen
Genre: General
Word count: 328
A/N: Just a weird idea of mine. Based on personal experience, damn it.

Now that she is faced with a choice, she stands in clouds of dust that gets into her nose and pharynx, and blood is dripping from her temple, slowly, very slowly, and it's so warm. It's after the battle with Kabuto, and now that she watches-

Like always.

Now that she watches, and her body is shaking with more excitement and less fear, Sakura doesn't know anymore, and tears don't gather at the corner of her eyes anymore. But the blood is so warm it burns her.

fastfastfastfastfastfastFASTER!dosomethingsomethinganything

Now that she has to choose (it's now that she must choose), she wants so desperately to choose Sasuke, who presently digs his filthy nails in Naruto's cheek, and breaks his knuckles on his stomach.

SasukeSasuke-kunSasuke-kunIloveyouIloveyouI'llscreambecauseIloveyoubecause-

She doesn't even try to fight, because her feet won't move, they are pinned to the ground, because her soul doesn't reside in her body anymore, it's in her heart.

becauseyou'retheimpossiblebecauseyourvoiceissodeepbecauseyournosesometimeslookslikeatomatobecauseyoubiteyournailsbecausebecause

And she suddenly remembers Naruto, and seeing his bloodied inhuman face-

distorted with anguish and focus, but she doesn't want to acknowledge it

And the wind is slapping her skin with unbelievable speed, harsh and soothing, wiping the blood from her temple, and she knows why she was always scolding Naruto, why she had no mercy.

Oh Naruto...

Na-ru-TO! You BAKA!

Na-RU-TO!!

NA-RU-TO! YOU barbarian!

whack!

'NaruTO!!' She screeches, her voice rasp, and she coughs uncontrollably. Her scream fails her.

because she knew.

because she didn't knew

But she somehow knew from the start that it was Naruto she was supposed to end up with, that there was no choice at all, and she rebelled, because it was romantic on HIS part, and she wanted him to deserve her, to be Sasuke, and she was proud and egoistic.

And she still is.

And she stands, unmoving, and shakes, and hugs herself because the wind increases, because her feet won't move.

Because her soul doesn't reside in her body, it's in her heart now.

Feeling drabblish

Wed, 26 Jul 2006 15:30:48 GMT

My Ego deflated. Not good, not good.

Title: Emotional.
Author: crazy_escapist
Disclaimer: So not mine.
Pairing: inosaku, a wee bit. Because Sakura is such an emo.
Summary: And Ino, surrealistically aware of the touch, noted how the skin was slightly moist with sweat caused by unrelenting fear.
Rating: Teen.
Genre: General.
Word count: 424

inosaku luv here! For des_butterfly, because she pleaded, hehe XD. And it is a drabble of some sorts, because I’m a lazy ass and proud of it.

Her small, a bit plump hand caught her by surprise, gripping her palm in the desperate grip, intertwining their fingers, and Ino, surrealistically aware of the touch, noted how the skin was slightly moist with the sweat caused by the unrelenting fear.

‘Oh...!’ A strangled gasp from her right made her turn her head in curiosity.

The blonde could hardly make out the subtle outlines of her facial features, and a bit of pink strands, although her eyes were unusually sharp. The grim shadow loomed over them, with just a beam of light above their heads, making their senses even more conscious of the tragedy played before their eyes, every sound hitting them with renewed force, and she squeezed the hand back softly.

The tension around them reeked of fear and apprehension.

‘He’s going to die...!’ She writhed, adrenaline pumping withinh her veins. ‘Do something!’ Sakura whispered, crest-fallen, breathless, ready to jump up.

Ino just looked intently, not wanting to miss something, anything. Her eager eyes followed their every move, gobbling everything that came before her eyes.

‘It can’t end bad, right? We have to have a happy ending!’ Her companion’ bubblegum locks shook as her form shook.

Not only she. Everyone around her looked focused, unmoving, and the girl few meters behind, the one with her nose a bit too long, was stifling her gasps behind her hands, while the man with covered chin (Kotetsu or something like this) was covering his eyes upon facing it, even he couldn’t stand the horror…

She covered their joined hands with her second one, and waited in grim silence for the outcome. The air was stuffy, as if something had squeezed out all life from it.

Her heart thumped wildly in her chest.

‘Nooo....’ Sakura whispered dejectedly, thumping her head with her free hand upon seeing the credits.

×××

‘Now, now...’ Ino patted her slumped back and smoothing out her hair in protective manner.

Suddenly, her eyes were sore from all the bright orange that shoved itself between her and Sakura, and she squinted her eyes in annoyance.

‘Say, say, Sakura-chan, I was beside you all the time – so you could cling all you wanted to my strong manly arms, y’know! You shouldn’t waste yourself on that Jack Sparrow dude, when you have ME! ’

‘Shut UP, NaruTO!’ Ino punched kicked his butt from behind and he had fallen. ‘Want some chocolate now? Don’t worry, Jack will last, at least until the end of the trilogy.’ She offered her hand.

‘Yeah… And I like blondes more, anyway.’

Title: Village Beauty.
Author: crazy_escapist
Disclaimer: So not mine.
Pairing: naruino, though they don't kiss, but it's said they have sex. Somewhen.
Summary: In her twenties, Ino was probably more beautiful than Sakura.
Rating: Teen.
Genre: General
Word count: 225

ino-centric, to celebrate me losing 6 pounds. A drabble, because drabbles are love :]!

In her twenties, Ino was probably more beautiful than Sakura, Tsunade’s heir.

Her longs were long – the longest – and her skin was smooth and fair, her waist tiny.

Men drooled whenever she was, and she picked on them cruelly because of that.

Her breasts were perfect. Not too big, not too small, but ample.

Her ‘blue-eyes blonde’ complexion gave her the image of a fallen angel, though her tongue was sharp. She was no sugary sweet girl Sakura, but a defiant woman, who knew what she wanted.

When she walked, her hips swayed delicately, rythmically, just like her long, silky, shining hair, emphasizing her awesome ass, and her eyes sparkled.

She was an impossible, something that everyone yearned for.

Inside a bit diet-obsessed, though not too skinny, just lanky, a true heart breaker.

Some called her a man-eater, but that was not it… Well, maybe a bit, but…

…sexiness was her second nature.

‘Yes, yes, my children, that was your mother in her young years.’ The blonde Rokudaime pointed at the picture.

‘Ohhhhhh... Awesome!’ They chorused. Awe was written on their faces.

‘Yes, yes.’ He nodded with his head vigorously.

‘I don’t believe.’ The ino-blonde teen said, snorting. ‘Just look at her now.’

‘SHI-KA-MARU!’

‘Mom is home!’ The much younger baby told her father innocently.

When I get back, I'll write something more meaningful. Maybe :P

No men!

Tue, 25 Jul 2006 19:06:25 GMT

I and my loyal and devoted friend (yeah, the one from Latvian Love Story :P) decided that from now on - we shouldn't have crushes or have any boyfriends whatsoever (it was MY idea!)

Because - what good they are?

Aside from all that trifling pleasures...?......................... okay, so *not* trifling, but whatever XD

Nomennomennomen from now on!

And this means writing all sorts of Sakura-centric and Hermione-centric fic, because they are fuckin'tastic XD

*August'06 resolution, hehe

Sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex!

Sun, 23 Jul 2006 20:10:11 GMT

Damn! On top of this I'm NOT going to have sex tonight!

Can things get worse?

*thinks*

*thinks more*

Actually - *hushed* - I'm a virgin.

It actually can be worse?

Why, oh why, I haven't met any libertine on my way. Which looks like Yondaime?

*sniffs*

I want SEX!

Sun, 23 Jul 2006 19:56:40 GMT

Oh GOD! OMFG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm so stupid it hurts sometimes, I *swear*.

Fuck!

I just forgot a password (yeah, you heard right, I need a password to keep my sisters' prying eyes from my kinky fics) to my SakuKaka fic. Which is half-written already.

Yeah, fuckin' hell it is.

Whatisitwhatisitwhatisitwhatisit?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

*bangs her head on the table* I need alcohol. now.

Yeah, right. My friend comes on a sleepover so the only thing I'm going to be drunk by is Johnny Depp.

Not that I'm complaining.

Quizzie :)

Sun, 23 Jul 2006 11:55:09 GMT

You Should Be A Poet

You craft words well, in creative and unexpected ways.

And you have a great talent for evoking beautiful imagery...

Or describing the most intense heartbreak ever.

You're already naturally a poet, even if you've never written a poem.

What Type of Writer Should You Be?

Hee!

Mon, 17 Jul 2006 20:38:46 GMT

Just got back. I think I stink.

It was awesome, man!

Met some seriously hot punk rockers, some not so punk rock-ish, but still hot :P Got irritated when girls screamed 'Deflower me' when Kid A sang. Yeah, so maybe they are devilishly handsome, but...?

And trust me, all the mothers in the world, you shouldn't take your little kids to a concert where a death metal group - Soulfly for example, - plays. Even *I* can't stand it.

It was funny, crazy, and painful at times. But I'm so happy I was there!

And read lately The Last of the Mohicans, which is plainly beautiful. Unkas/Kora rules :P

Otherwise, my life was dull.

Tue, 11 Jul 2006 16:06:12 GMT

Haha.

Tomorrow I am going on my rock festival.

By train.

Now that my parents let me go, I think that I am likely to be killed. Chived. Beaten. Raped. My food stolen.

That is the worst, now that I think about it :P

Oh, and I've visited another LJ where people update with the speed of me talking.

Just wait and see, I'll be like that as well!

I hate you all :sulks: