littlebopeep28

WANT SOME PRON?!

2009-01-12T05:15:23Z

I am currently cleaning out my proverbial "manga closet" and have decided that I would like to get rid of some of my shounen-ai/yaoi D: They are all in mint condition (as are the rest of my manga) and discounted from their usual $9.99/ $12.95 price. Check out the titles below!

La Esperanza: Chigusa Kawai
Volumes 1-7 (COMPLETE)
PRICE: $11 or $70 for all seven

Black Knight: Kai Tsurugi
Volumes 1-3
PRICE: $7 single or $18 for all three

The Art of Loving: Eiki Eiki
Volume 1
PRICE: $10

Desire: Maki Kazumi & Yukine Honami
PRICE: $10

Stolen Heart: Maki Kamamaru & Yukine Honami
PRICE: $10
*BUY THIS AND DESIRE TOGETHER FOR $18*

Seven: Momoko Tenzen
PRICE: $10

Sunflower: Hyouta Fujiyama
Volume 1
PRICE: $10

Invisible Boy: Hotaru Odagiri
Volume 1
PRICE: $10

Beyond my Touch: Tomo Maeda
PRICE: $10

Close the Last Door!: Yugi Yamada
Volume 1
PRICE: $10

Doust thou Know?: Kimi Shiruya
PRICE: $10

My Only King: Lily Hoshino
PRICE: $10

I'm not charging for shipping unless there is more than one order per person or you buy a collection of volumes. However, if you buy more than one, I will give you a discount on the unit price [excludes collection volumes], so you will save money either way. My prices are negotiable, so feel free to message me to see if we can work something out. Payments will only be taken through my Paypal, baby_peanut28@yahoo.com . Please buy my manga! 8D

MORE! More Creative Fiction!

2008-12-17T09:53:08Z

This one is not fully finished-- Hence the section where I write "Is Deciding" and what not, but hopefully you'll still enjoy it 83

When you’re on that family vacation in Disney World and you just happen to run into Mickey or Donald or whichever Disney character, and you’re posing with them… Does it ever occur to you that years from then, when you’re freckles have faded across your nose, when you’ve grown at least another foot, and when your mom stops buying you clothes that for some reason always have static cling even when they have been sitting in your drawer for the past week, that you’ll be looking at this cottony coffin of a suit from the other side? That you’ll be the one posing for pictures while some greasy monkey of a child clings to your “fur” with their sticky hands. But, when you’re a high school student in desperate need of a job, some times you have to sacrifice your pride and dignity, and be every small child’s fantasy.

I had lost his pride and dignity a year and 3 months ago to this day, when I signed my life over on that W-2 I filled out and handed in to the manager and traded it in for a large raccoon outfit. I had gone from womb, to cradle, to school bus, to raccoon costume—such an odd cycle of life. My life was now owned and relied on the $8.50 an hour that my manager Wayne would disperse in my weekly check. Wayne was the beginning and end to all, and he made sure that every employee at Riverside Amusement Park knew that—if you wanted to get paid, you didn’t mess with Wayne. But that didn’t stop the rest of us from heckling him behind his back; when someone’s a complete asshole like Wayne, believing that his job was ordained by God or something like that, you couldn’t help but make him the butt of every joke. That was what break time was mostly about really, taunting one another and the complaints about day to day life and the less-than-thrilling job of being a part of the “Tree House Brigade.” That’s what we were: Elli, Edward, Steve, and me.

We were those naïve little teenagers that thought working at an amusement park would be fun—ride the rides for free, eat as much artery-clogging junk food that we could hog down, and no real work to do. We’d all been trained and broken in to the “Riverside family” at the same time, so it was only apparent that in the midst of our harsh wake-up call of what working at an amusement park was really like, that we’d band together to survive. It was us, a raccoon, a fox, a moose, and a squirrel, that made up the Tree house Brigade. I honestly don’t know how any of those animals correlated with a tree house, but it had been Edward’s nickname for us four, explaining that we were animals that you would find in or around a tree, or something like that… Edward didn’t make a lot of sense if you really listened to him, if you listened to him at all.

To return back to my 15 month anniversary—or more so the anniversary of the meeting and ultimate formation of the Tree House Brigade—I didn’t expect anyone else to remember this date other than myself, which was kind of odd since most males aren’t known for their date-remembering skills. The small parking section for employees only was nearly filled, leaving me to squeeze between two black cars, making an automobile Oreo with my white Chrysler. It was a perfect summer day too, which was what caused such a turn out of employees; nice weather meant more customers, which meant more people strutting their stuff in big animal costumes and the lucky few working at the concession and game stands. No doubt a few of the owners of these cars had to be more than perturbed to come in on their free day to work, but Wayne’s word was law, hence the large populace of cars now parked out in the lot.

I hopped the guard rails out of the parking lot and walked across the black asphalt to get to the changing and break room, nodding to Emeline who waved at me from behind her cage of a ticket booth. She wore the mandated red t-shirt and white pants that all non-costume-wearing employees had to wear—well, at least the shirt, I could never see below her midsection—with her matching red cat-eye glasses. She always reminded me of being stuck in the fifties: the glasses, her hair sprayed up-do that I’m sure could deflect a bullet should she ever be shot in the head, and even her name. I always thought it had to be a mixture of two names that her parents couldn’t choose between, so they mashed them together to make Emeline. Often times, when children weren’t yanking on my tail, I’d start to work together possibilities of what those names might have been. Elli had once offered the suggestion that maybe it was “Emily” and “Eveline,” and though that made sense, I quickly disregarded it; no way could it be that simple to figure out. I think Edward might have mentioned that she had been trying to break into country music and had even performed at the Grand Ole Opry, but as I had said before, Edward wasn’t one that you’d take his word for it. Besides I found it hard to believe that half a body couldn’t do much anything than sit there like she did and make change for tickets, let alone belt out a female version of “Ring of Fire” in front of thousands of people, or whatever it was that country musicians sang there. She was like one of those gypsy fortune teller boxes you paid 50 cents to get your “future” from—just an upper body, and that’s what Emeline the two-named-converted-into-one ticket person was to me: an upper body stuck in the fifties that took your money in exchange for admittance.

So leaving the “half a woman” to her prison box of tickets, I kept on my small trek to the building hid past the Ferris wheel and over the tall wooden fence, opening the creaky gate door that I was sure didn’t keep curious children from wandering past the gate, and went to the changing room. It was much like the changing room at my high school: painted a dismal grey color, the lockers lined up like inmates during a cell check, and you knew the that the closest thing this place had to a clean up was someone wiping a Wet One across the bench before sitting on it. I walked past the lockers for now, going to the very back of the room where all the suits are lined up, along with a sign-in sign-out sheet just behind them, for liability sake should someone tear the suit or even steal it, though I doubt that the person would lack inconspicuousness wearing or carrying a large raccoon suit out of the amusement park, or even the proper brain capacity to even want to steal a large raccoon suit.

I scribbled down my name, date, time in, that sort of deal and take the mammoth-sized raccoon outfit back to my locker. I’ve always imagined that millions of years ago, this is the size raccoons used to be, and that I’m just upholding their prehistoric tradition by dressing up as one today. Normal clothes stripped off, shorts and short sleeves slipped on, and on went the suit. After a few weeks, you learned the ritual dance of putting on the suit: Make sure the suit is backwards, step in with your right leg, step in with your left leg, zip up the suit with your right hand while shimmying your left arm in, wriggle around so as the suit is finally on the normal way, and slip your arms into the armholes. It’s rather hard to do it any other way because finding that damn zipper in the first place with uncovered hands is hard enough, you don’t need to try to do it with padded ones. I carried the massive head under my arm and left the changing room, going down the dirty sea foam green hallway to the break room, to see who was already shirking off their duties this early in the day. Same as usual: the rest of the Tree house Brigade.

Edward, in his fox uniform was leaned up against one of the two vending machines, head up on top of the machine and suit drooped down around his waist while he sucked on his cigarette. Edward seemed like the kind of guy that would be the dirtiest one of the workers, the kind that reeked of booze and stinky cheese like the low-end mall Santa would, but really he had to be the cleanest of us four, with the exception of his love for the cancer-stick. He was the oldest of all us four, twenty to be exact, his ashen blonde hair looking like it belonged in a male version of the Herbal Essences commercials, the waves through it looking very much like he actually took the time to blow dry and shape his hair; he swore that’s how it naturally dried though, but everyone figured he did something to make it look that way. His fingers weren’t tainted the ugly yellow that cigarette smokers were branded with, and he didn’t even smell of the nicotine; he was like those old movie stars you’d see smoking their long cigarettes and doing it looking so damn sexy. He was nearly perfect, where it not for three things: One, he was a cigarette smoker, and that in itself was disgusting no matter how good looking he made it. Two, he worked at Riverside Amusement park, enough said. And three, every thing he said had to be bullshit, or at least twisted in some way. It was just the kind of guy he was, you could trust what he said as far as you could throw him. We all knew it, and he even knew it; didn’t stop him from spewing said bullshit day in and day out though.

Elli had propped herself up against the table, her squirrel suit fully on and her head helping to prop her up behind her on the table. She had her brick red hair up in a ponytail today, just barely reaching the nape of her neck which was the perfect length if she wanted to keep her hair hidden under the large head she would walk around in. It was easy to tell by her hair, green eyes, and slightly pale skin that was tainted with freckles that she was of Irish decent, one of the reasons Wayne had given her that she should be dressed in a suit instead of working out at one of the stands; her pale skin would sizzle in direct sunlight, and it was best that instead she stay cooped up and hidden under the rodent head. It kind of went with out saying that I had a bit of a thing for Elli, her witty charm and her ability to stand three guys in different animal costumes all day while working minimum wage was enough to turn any guy on, plus she was rather cute too which was always a bonus. I hadn’t gotten up the courage to ask her out or anything though, and summer was drawing to a close by now, the last summer of the Tree house Brigade as we knew it; if I didn’t ask her soon enough, we’d both be off to college, and I’d never see the my Irish squirrel of a girl again. Now it was just working up that courage.

Steve was the fourth member of our little posse, the youngest too at age 17, and our little moose boy. He stood beside Elli at the table, his moose head against her squirrel head, brown hair a mess in the kind of fashion that told me that he had been one of the ones called out of bed this morning to come in and work today; well, that and the slight scowl he wore told me this. He was the one, when we weren’t making fun of Wayne, that got the majority of the jokes and harassment from the rest of us three, but he took it well, with a quick retort of some sort of form of us “shutting up” and the occasional swear sprinkled in. Honestly though, I think we all sort of saw him as a younger brother, even though he was only a year younger than Elli and me, and three years younger than Edward, but this only gave us further license to ridicule the poor teen.

“I’m honestly thinking that no one likes to show up for work on time anymore,” Edward commented, now half way done with letting his carcinogen lover orally stimulate him, and I could only guess that he was talking about me even though I’m not that late.

“I’m honestly thinking that no one gives a shit what you’re honestly thinking,” I replied setting my raccoon head down amongst the other two on the table, going over to the refrigerator and rummaging through it in hopes of finding something sustainable to eat and/or drink for free, and hopefully it was something of Wayne’s just so I can sit through another one of those meetings where he tells us all that “people put their names on their food for a certain reason, blahblahblah” sort deal. No such luck today though.

“Too late, Buddha over here already stole his grinder,” Elli chimed in, knowing what my scavenger was for, and motions her head in a nudge towards Steve, who just scoffed at her.

“Wayne doesn’t have a right to call me on my day off and make me come in and work,” Steve commented in his defense for stealing what I was going to steal myself, “I didn’t even have a chance to get breakfast, so I stole that prick’s food. And stop calling me Buddha!”

We all call Steve Buddha as another form of our verbal torment towards the younger male. It seemed that this summer when we had come back to work, Steve told us that he had converted to Buddhism, to which we all laughed at him for, and since then had mocked him for it whenever the opportunity arose. It was one of those kinds of things where he converted to Buddhism just so he could say he was Buddhist sort of deal, or at least that’s how it seemed. I was pretty sure that that kid thought the Dali Llama was actually a llama.

“Dude, if you’re already going to start bitching at this hour of the day, go take a walk down the Eight Fold Path and leave us alone,” I rolled my eyes at Steve, shutting the refrigerator door much to my stomach’s discontent. Steve made no comment back at me, only furthering me to believe that he thought that the Eight Fold Path was actually a path.

Edward moved from his spot against the vending machine to stamp out his cigarette into the small plastic ashtray on the nearby water cooler and resumed the slouched position against the machine, the low hum of the light inside emanating throughout the room.

“Why we don’t have a working smoking detector in the break room is a mystery to me,” Edward pointed out at the lack of noise. I wondered that as well, since there had been a good number of cigarettes smoked in here and a good number more microwave accidents.

“I’m sure it’s on Wayne’s lists of things to do,” Elli replied to Edward, “Along with finding who else he can call up and harass to get here and work, and who ate his Asiago Chicken Sandwich last week.” Obvious culprit being myself, I smirked a bit at Elli’s answer. She was a smart girl, probably going to some sort of prestigious Ivy League school this coming fall, while I would end up going to the nearby university. How she ended up working here was an oddity compared to the kind of person she was—she was too smart to be a squirrel.

“I really hope it’s not, ‘cause then I have to smoke outside if he puts one in,” Edward spoke again, finally adjusting his suit so as it was up over his shoulders and covering his arms, “And as tempting as listening to the shrieks of children and the repetitive music of the Ferris wheel is, I like my peace in here.”

“Not like that music hasn’t already been drilled into your head though,” Steve chirped, grabbing up his moose head and holding it out in front of himself while the rest of us gathered up our matching heads and for once, none of us could make fun of what Steve had just said. True, we could all hum the song of each ride and had at one point done so when Wayne had decided to explain to us that it’s not appropriate for us to congregate together when we should be walking about and interacting with the customers. The four of us just put our heads together and began to hum out each song as if we were a barbershop quartette, leaving our manager silent, something that was good when he was talking about nothingness and that wasn’t bad enough that he’d find a way to cut your pay.

“Well, in any case, I like smoking that sweet nicotine in the privacy of the break room,” Edward continued.

“And watch your life slowly dwindle away with each exhale of smoke,” Elli finished, the first to make an attempt to walk to the break room door to actually start up the work day, leaving me to follow after her, followed by Steve, and then reluctantly, Edward. We all walked the Riverside green mile down the sour lime hallway I had been in just minutes before, and emerged outside, slipping out heads on and filing out of the gate door.

It hadn’t been that long ago that I had just been jogging across the large amusement park where there had been only a sporadic few families already admitted in, but now it seemed to have increased ten-fold within that short period.

**NOT SURE WHAT TO PUT IN HERE—IS DECIDING**

So of the four of us, Elli and I were the only ones left at the amusement park, the last of the families filing out of the exits, and leaving us two, still in our costumes, to watch them, the pain of that day finally settling into our body at the lack of movement and heat beating down on our brows. It’s the sore that I knew I’d never feel again, as I had no intention of being the college mascot; that’s not to say that I wouldn’t have a respect for the person that did it though. I knew their pain. Edward had weaseled his way out of his shift an hour earlier, the lucky bastard, and Steve had made a bolt for the changing rooms the moment the shift was over. But Elli and I had no where important to go, or any where to be, so we had stood against the pretzel stand, both of us holding our twisted piece of baked dough in the paws of our costumes. We got the scraps of the day, the remainder of the food that was going to be thrown out anyways since it wouldn’t be fresh the next day. As I brought my pretzel up to take a bite, a hand snatched it from my paw with great ease, since wearing these mitts gives you no grip at all. Steve took a bite from the pretzel, looking at the two of us as if he’d never seen us before in his life.

“Why are you two still wearing those things?” He questioned, taking another bite of my pretzel, leaving me to curse him under my breath at the fact that he was now stealing my food for the second time today, “It’s like seeing the guy that dresses up as the Easter Bunny at Kmart walking around shopping the store after. Wear it when you need to, and any other time, ditch it.”

I swatted at Steve in a sad attempt to get my pretzel back, but he only moved more towards Elli to escape from my arm range. “We decided that feeding ourselves was more important than getting out of these things,” Elli answered for the both of us, “We can get out of these costumes whenever we want to, but the pretzel scraps are only here for so long before people like you and Skylar steal it all for yourselves.” Of course both us guys had to agree with Elli; she was lucky that she got a pretzel today to be honest, Steve just happened to be on the slow draw today.

“Well, in any case, it was great working with you two, for what it’s worth,” Steve commented, saluting both of us for whatever reason, “But I’m gonna be out of here soon too! Gimme a year and I’ll be caught up with you two, and then Wayne can just kiss my moose-y ass!” Elli and I couldn’t do much more than nod and wave off Steve as he now sprinted out of the amusement park as fast as his seventeen year old legs could carry him as if he were going for a jail break.

“May the peace of the Buddha be with you!” I yelled to the brunette, leaving Elli to chime in with, “And also with you!” One last torment of Steve as we could see the blur of an obscene hand gesture shown back at us, making the two of us laugh. I knew I’d miss Steve, “for what it’s worth,” as he put it, and Edward too; I knew I wouldn’t find anyone like him that could spin a web of bullshit like Edward could… Or at least get away with it like he did. And Wayne, in some sort of odd way, I’d miss him too… No, I’m only kidding myself, I don’t miss that bastard.

“Kinda sad, isn’t it?” Elli’s voice jarred me from my thought.

“What is?” I asked her, looking over in her direction now as she was on her last few bites of pretzel, making me only realize all the more that mine was taken away, and I hadn’t eaten anything since lunchtime, and that had been a number of hours ago.

“That we’re the only ones left of the Brigade now, and today’s our last day of working,” The red-head answered, “And we didn’t even get to celebrate our anniversary.” I looked her directly in the eyes as she spoke that last part. So I hadn’t been the only one that remembered today? She raised her pretzel to me as if giving a toast, “Happy anniversary, Sky,” she continued, eating the last bite of her pretzel.

“You know,” I began to say, looking at the corners of her mouth, a few crumbs of pretzel remaining in the tiny dimples, “A pretzel is no way to celebrate an anniversary, and to tell you the truth, my lack of one is starting to kick in. You wanna go grab a bite to eat or something?” I swallowed the saliva that had built up in my mouth, waiting for her response.

Her lips parted into a smile and the crumbs disappeared, “Sure, as long as you’re buying,” she gave a small wink, “I’ll leave my car here, and we can come back for it.” I gave a nod in agreement; rather glad I had finally worked up my courage to ask her out, even if it was for something as silly as this anniversary. We each took a step, I towards the park gates and she towards the gated fence where we went to change, leaving us to glance at one another in confusion.

“You’re not gonna change?” Elli asked me, giving me a strange look as if I might have forgotten I was wearing a large raccoon outfit; that wasn’t something you forgot though.

“Why should I?” I responded, giving her a strange look as if changing back into our normal outfits was the odd thing to do, “Come on, if we’re gonna celebrate the anniversary properly, I can’t think of anything more fitting than wearing our costumes out to eat as well. Who knows, we might even get a good seat!”

Elli laughed at this thought, looking herself over and contemplating her choices before looking back up at me and gave a nod. “Alright then!” she answered, laughing again in the way that her nose crinkled up slightly, freckles meshing together for the brief moment, “We’ll have to return the costumes when we come back though, otherwise Wayne will hunt our asses down.”

I offered my paw hand out to hers and she took it in hers, the two of us walking towards the park gates, just enjoying the peacefulness of being able to walk around in large fur suits without having kids yanking on us as I was sure that’s what the both of us were thinking about. I saw a red shirt ahead of us, wondering what employee would still be lingering about until the unmistakable fifties era caught my eye; it was Emeline. She was fishing through a brown leather purse for what I guessed to be keys, standing there in her white pants just outside of her booth. She glanced up in our direction, waving to the two of us before returning back to the contents of her bag. I’m sure she’d seen odder things than two kids walking around headless animal suits.

“Heh, so she does have a lower body,” I commented to myself, though not realizing at the same time it had been aloud, causing Elli to look over at me in confusion.

“Of course she has a lower body,” She responded, “Why wouldn’t she?” She obviously didn’t know how my mind worked, but I didn’t mind. The idea of my half a lady was shattered, and yet I didn’t mind that either.

“Never mind, Elli,” I told the girl beside me, looking down at our paws for a moment, able to feel the change of the pavement now below our feet as we entered the parking lot. I wriggled my left hand into my outfit, fishing the keys from my pocket and sticking them up out of the neck of my suit for my other hand to grab hold to.

“You really think you can drive in that outfit?” Elli asked, looking a bit skeptical of my driving skills in a large raccoon suit, which I was also starting to doubt as well; not like I had done this before.

“Hey, think of it this way,” I commented, unlocking our car doors, “No one’s about to pull over a car with a large raccoon and a large squirrel in it, now are they?” Elli laughed at that as well, “I sure as hell hope not,” she responded, taking her seat beside me in the car.

Even More Creative Fiction!

2008-12-17T09:49:26Z

And You are My Heroin

I don’t know how much time has passed since I last shot up, since I’ve felt that warm mind-numbing sensation, but all I know is that it’s been too long. The jittery dance that my fingers do across the arm of my couch have become too prominent now, and chills streaming up and down my back are too… Well, chilly. Time to go. I give a shaky rise from my cream colored couch, the black nail-polished chipped fingers snatching up my coat; usually when my nails get this way, I will take a black permanent marker and color in the skin colored spots when I don’t feel like repainting my nails, but I didn’t have time to do that today.

It’s not like it’s exceptionally cold outside or anything, but I always put on my coat when I’m feeling this way. If I do that, then if my shaking and shivers are obvious to anyone, they’ll most likely think I’m just cold from being outside, instead of thinking that I’m a junkie. Heh, that’s such a bad word: Junkie. It makes you think of a greasy, straw-haired pedophile looking as if he’s stricken with jaundice and eyes that not even a blind person would want. Not all of us are like that, you know. I’m well-kept, black hair washed at least once a day with Herbal Essences, skin it’s natural pinkish-peach color, and no sexual desire for anyone younger than me. The only thing that labels me as the junky I so know I am is the trail of track marks that dot my arms as if I’m some sort of arm leper, and these freakin’ twitches that show up at the first sign of my hunger for smack, making me feel like I have Tourettes Syndrome or something.

I pick up my car keys, making a small jingle as they rest in my palm, and open my front door, locking up my home and walking down the few steps to my car; you’d think if I had enough money to buy drugs I’d be able to at least fix up my car somewhat, but it gets me where I need to, so I leave it at that. The key is slipped into the ignition and I rev the engine to life, leaving the driveway. I’ll go to Jake’s house, I tell myself, now headed towards the neighboring town. Jake always seems to have some smack at his place, and I can always pay him back later, using one of two methods of payment: Money or sex, and I don’t prefer one over the either, and on occasion, he doesn’t seem to either. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not prostituting myself for drugs, but money will really only get me so far with Jake—He is a man after all, and in his mind, where material desires end, carnal desires begin. We were once lovers, so that sort of intimacy with him isn’t something new to me either, and while he doesn’t want to admit it, I know he wants me back, and I obviously have no problem with capitalizing on that want to get what I myself want. Jake is my drug mule, my dealer, my fuck toy. Nothing more.

I flip through the radio stations as I wait for the red light to turn green, glancing at the green-glowing numbers light up. 106.9 comes up and I recognize the band as Velvet Underground, making me automatically think of their album cover with the Andy Warhol banana on it; I never really got why they had that as their album cover, of all things. And wouldn’t you know it, their playing their song called “Heroin”… I’m starting to think that God is sending me a little message that he knows where I’m going. “Heroin, be the death of me/Heroin, it’s my wife and its my life/Because a mainer to my vein/Leads to a center in my head/And then I’m better off and dead/Because when the smack begins to flow/I really don’t care anymore,” they sing to me, making me smirk. “Heh, I know your pain all too well, Lou,” I say to the lead singer as he sings the rest of the tune, tapping on the wheel as the green light beams down at me.

Jake lives in a rather nice apartment complex, which I find kind of ironic at the fact that he runs his seedy little drug dealings out of that white-walled, one bedroom apartment. I pull my car into one of the free parking spaces that he’s guaranteed with the lease, though I’m surprised that I’m the only car here for him. Must not be selling until he gets his next score—which means all he has is his stash. Hopefully he hasn’t shot himself with all of that just yet. I lock my car, slipping my keys into my back pocket and pull my jacket closer to my body, feeling the shakes continuing to ravage my body. Just hold on for a bit longer, I remind myself as I climb the wood stairs to his apartment level, black nails holding to the rail. A few more yards and I’m in front of his door, reaching out and knocking. A few shuffles from inside and sluggish steps coming before the door cracks open the three inches or so that the metal chain from the inside will let it, a familiar eye peering out at me. “Lemme in, Jake,” I tell him, in no mood for him to eye me from inside while I stand outside, showing off my body slowly gaining with drawl symptoms. The door shuts again, the clank of the chain hitting against the doorframe, and Jake reemerges with the door fully open now, his shirtless form leaning against the doorway to take up as much room as he can, and each scar, track mark, and the like exposed to me fully; my only hope is that in a few years, my body won’t be a female version of what his is. It’s times like this that I often wonder what made me look at him and find him sexy. His eyes are slightly red at the fact that he hasn’t slept in some time, he’s high, or a mixture of the two, his body looking a bit on the thin side, and brown hair a mess, but that being the usual style I always saw it in.

“If it isn’t my little crack whore,” he smirks, revealing the smile that at one point could make my heart palpitate inside my chest; well, at least one thing was still attractive about him. “You better have cash or be limbered up,” he informs me, finally turning his back and walking inside, his way of inviting me inside, and I follow him inside, shutting the door, “I’m not giving out pity prizes.” Of course, his vulgar greeting I’ve now gotten used to, just brushing it off; I’m not a crack whore though, crack is a dirty drug, I’m a heroin addict, simple as that. “Don’t worry, Jake, you’re little ‘crack whore’ can pay this time,” I let my words have a bit of a bite to them, pulling off my jacket and draping it over the arm of his couch, “I just need one hit.” He sits in the divot his body has made from him sitting in the same spot for so long so often on the couch, already having the materials out, and I toss the money onto the table beside them, “That should cover everything.” His grubby fingers reach out and pick it up, fingering through the bills and finally giving a small nod. “Help yourself, darling,” he offers, letting me immediately seize up the tie and loop it around my left arm, tying it off tightly, and pick up the needle, tapping at it to make sure the heroin is prepared right and there are no air bubbles. Of course, knowing the expert junky he is, it’s a good batch, and the needle is slipped under my skin, the addictive drug injected into my veins, now pumping throughout my system. I pull out the needle and take off the tie, setting the both of them on the table, and I see that Jake isn’t too far behind, finishing shooting himself up. We both mirror one another, lounging back against opposing couches, vegging in the sickening bliss that is heroin highness. Breaths become softer and slower, pulse and heartbeat following in turn, and I close my eyes lightly at the fluidly relaxing feeling. In this moment, I’m a junkie and proud of it.

I can hear myself say, “You know, Jake, I wasn’t suppose to turn out this way,” but whether I say this aloud or in my mind, I can hear it. It’s true; I was a rather promising girl with a promising career and a promising life. What followed all of that, I blame Jake for, that self-destructive brown-eyed beauty that can never go down without dragging someone else down with him. I blame him… No, I blame myself. Sure he had the needles ready just as he had today, but I’m the one that shot myself up, I’m the one that got sucked into this wonderfully addicting hell hole I’m in now. I have no one to blame but myself as to why I’m a junky, sitting here high as a kite with an ex-boyfriend in a tainted apartment room, hiding away from the world in my temporary state.

I don’t know how much time has passed since I jut shot up, since I’ve been feeling that warm mind-numbing sensation, but all I know is that it’s been too long. The calming feeling still lingers as I get up from the couch, picking up my coat; I’ve already paid Jake what I owe, no need to hang around any longer. I leave the sketchy hole-in-the-wall apartment, holding to the railing as I make my way back down to the car. The thing is, I don’t know where to go… Where do I go from here? Where does a junkie go after this? My mind thinks back on the Velvet Underground song again: “cause when the smack begins to flow/Then I really don’t care anymore/Ah, when the heroin is in my blood/And that blood is in my head/Then thank God that I’m as good as dead/Then thank your God that I’m not aware/And thank God that I just don’t care.” Where I go from here, I’m not aware. Where I go from here, I just don’t care. I’m a junkie, and I’m as good as dead.

More Creative Fiction!

2008-12-17T09:47:41Z

Finding Never Land

Danni wanted to run away to Never Land. He wanted to take his sister, Ella, and fly high above the clouds, dance across the stars until they reached the second one to the right, and go straight on till morning. He wanted to play with the mermaids, run with the Lost Boys, hunt with the Indians, and fight the pirates. He wanted to chase the crocodile with the clock in its belly, go to bed when he wanted to, eat anything he wanted, he never wanted to grow up, he wanted to do all of these things, he wanted to get away from his life, but most of all, he wanted to get away from his father.

Their mother had been buried a year or so ago, Ella was too young to remember, but Danni could. She had been so pretty laying there in the coffin, blonde hair combed out around her and white dress adorning her body, and had it not been for the fact that he knew death was everlasting, Danni would have only thought his mother was napping. He could remember their father standing over the two of them, dark hair slicked back and an equally dark suit to match it, while he tried holding back what tears he could. Ella couldn’t though. Ella, in her small black dress, blonde wavy hair tied back and braided, and little freckles across her nose and cheeks dabbed with tear drops, had cried and cried, begging her mother to get up. Danni knew she wouldn’t though, and only held his sister’s small hand, finally pulling her along when their father had given the two of them a small nudge. “Your mother’s in a better place now,” the man seemed to repeat the entire day, “I promise that this won’t change anything between us three.” Danni had believed in his father’s words, promising Ella the same thing, and so the three of them believed in each other’s words.

The house had grown emptier with their mother gone, their father often secluded in his room, leaving the children to tend to themselves. It had gotten so much of a burden that their father even sold their home, buying the three of them a two bedroom apartment, top floor of the building, and so he was closer to the city where he worked. Often times when their father was gone at work, or hidden in his bedroom, Danni would make Ella and himself peanut-butter and Jelly sandwiches when the two had gotten hungry, or helped her zip up her coat and slip on her mittens when the two wanted to play outside. But most often the two took refuge in their room, Ella sitting in Danni’s bed as he read to her Peter Pan, the stories of the Lost Boys filling their imaginations. And the story would always end the same way, Ella looking up at her brother and asking, “Danni, can we go to Never Land?” and he would respond with a small smile, “Yes, Ella. One day, I’ll take you there. I promise.”

But the harsh reality of the children’s lives was always ever present, too young to control what was happening around them, and too young to do anything about it. Their father had sunken into a deep depression since their mother had died, finding solitude and comfort inside a glass bottle. His depression and drinking then cost his job, and the drinking only increased, the apartment littered with aluminum and glass empties. Soon, things escalated into violence, the father striking out at the children for the simplest things: Dropping a plate, a slap across the face. Being too loud when father was sleeping, a beating across a bare bottom. Crying, hitting until the crying stopped. Dark marks riddled the children’s bodies. Danni had learned quickly what triggered their father to lash out at them, but poor Ella never seemed to escape their father’s wrath, and she would cry all the harder, and in so doing get beaten all the harder.

When the older male would get tired, he’d leave her broken body on the floor, Danni crying silently in the corner until he was completely out of the room, in which the boy would scramble across the floor to his sister, checking over her freshly made marks and wipe at her freshly made tears. “Shhhh,” he’d whisper to her, cradling her small shaking body in his arms, trying to calm her incase their father dared to come back into the room to finish what he had started. The small boy would bring his sister up into his bed, hugging her close while retelling the adventures of Peter Pan and how he had cut off Captain Hook’s hand, and what other stories he could think up from Never Land to calm the girl. Her sniffling and quavering breaths would soften, and the shaking lessening. “Don’t worry, Ella,” he’d whisper softly to the little blonde girl, brushing the top of her head, “One day we’ll leave here, and we’ll fly away to Never Land.” He always promised her this, the small feeble child in his arms giving a nod before finding sleep. This was what most nights entailed, and these were the lies he told his sister.

Danni knew that there was no Never Land. Even at the age of seven he had long stopped believing in such fairy tales. There was no Lost Boys, no mermaids, no Peter Pan, none of what he told his sister. He knew that there was no escaping the following day and the uncertainty that perhaps that night neither of them would be dealt harsh blows from their father’s drunken fists, or tears shed, or knew bruises to further distort their small bodies. There was no faith, no trust, and no pixie dust. Their mother was dead, their father a drunk, and there was no escaping this hell hole. All he had to survive for was his sister and the promise that one day he’d take her away to Never Land.

Time continued to pass, bottles were filled up and emptied from the fridge, and bruises came and went from the children’s bodies, each one holding the promise Danni made to his sister that the two would go to Never Land. Danni had been washing his hands at the bathroom sink one afternoon, his auburn hair ruffled up from taking off his hat just a few minutes earlier, and brown eyes cast down as he made sure to get his hands clean from any dirt that he may have brought in from outside. There had been no disruptions at all today in the young children’s lives, and Danni was off to make his sister and him sandwiches, when there came a loud stumble and scuffle, followed by a voice bellowing curse words that easily sent chills down Danni’s spine. Their father was up from his room, and the loud crash of something hitting against the wall meant that he must have tripped over one of Ella’s things, making him kick it at the wall in a fit of rage. The curse words were continued to be slung around the apartment as the footsteps slammed themselves on the wooden flooring, nearing the children’s room. Danni was pale with fear, darting from the bathroom into their room and slamming the door, setting down the little latch on the frail lock on their door, hoping that it would keep their father at bay. Ella was already tucked away in the corner of her bed, crying her little eyes out as if she was being beaten that very second. She knew what she had done. Her small body quaked and shook in fear and the tears only ran all the harder with each roar and pound of the elder man’s fists against the door. Danni felt his heart thump with each pound, knowing that if their father was bound determined to get in, he would. The copper hues of his eyes darted around the room, searching for something that could perhaps save them from the drunken fury and the torment of the coarse knuckles beating down upon poor Ella. Light hit the boy’s eye as he stared at the window, sunlight casting the silhouette of the window frame onto the floor in front of him.

The boy crossed over the room swiftly to his sister’s bed, reaching out and taking her small hand into his, helping her off the bed and leading her over to the window sill, lifting the small hook that held the two windows shut and tossed them open, the breeze immediately caressing their faces as Danni looked out over the horizon. “Ella, we’re going to do it today,” he spoke to his sister over the threatening rage of their father’s voice on the other side of the door, “We’re going to fly to Never Land.” The small child looked up at her brother, eyes quivering in broken innocence as she gave a small nod, the two clamoring up onto the small wooden platform of the sill. There was the sound of the world going on around them, unknowing and naïve of what was happening inside of the apartment building, Danni’s heartbeat rivaling the sound as it palpitated inside of his ears. “Remember what Peter said, Ella,” he spoke to his sister, seeing her looking up at him yet again, “You have to think of a happy thought if we’re going to fly, okay? Do you have one?” The blonde hair bounced as Ella nodded, Danni taking up her hand in his, lacing their fingers all the tighter. “Good, now, this is gonna be a bit scary, so no matter what, I want you to close your eyes when we take off, okay? Don’t peek,” he told her, and again was answered with a nod. Ella’s eyes soon closed, leaving Danni to glance one more time down the numerous stories of their apartment building. He shuffled his foot slightly, moving his sister along too, centimeter by centimeter. The boy’s body now shook as his sister’s still did, pausing one last time before his feet left the window, air rushing about his body as the two fell swiftly.

Danni only clenched his eyes all the more, letting his mind fill with thoughts. Yes, yes he could see it now; they were flying, Ella’s little feet prancing upon the rooftops as the two shot off through the air, heading to Never Land. Yes, he could see it, the small island with crystal blue water and green luscious plant life all around them, Captain Hook’s pirate ship nestled off in the shallow part of the water, mermaids flitting around nearby, perching themselves on rocks and giggling to one another. And the Lost Boys, he could see them too, their dirtied faces smiling at Danni and Ella, inviting them off to one of their adventures with Peter Pan. Yes, yes he could see it all… He’d taken Ella there just as he promised he would, where they could live happily and care-free, away from their father, away from grown-ups, safe and secure with Tinkerbelle and Peter and Tiger Lilly and the Lost Boys and all the rest of Never Land. It was such a beautiful sight for the boy that even the feeling of his body smashing upon the cement pavement right outside the apartment couldn’t ruin it.

Some Creative Fiction Work

2008-12-17T09:45:11Z

The next few posts are just going to be stuff I wrote last year in my Creative Fiction Class. This for those of you who are viewing my work to see what kind of writing I do, or perhaps are just legitimately interested in my writing. Either way, here you go!

Alone

If there was ever I day I didn’t want to wake up for, that I wanted to sleep through, it was today. My blonde hair is frizzled in the usual morning mess and my face hidden against my pillow, as I decide I’d like nothing more than to pass this day away camouflaged amongst my layered sheets. “No sweetie, you can’t do that,” I hear a voice tell me, which only tells me I’m not camouflaged enough amongst the blankets, and bury myself deeper into them. “And why can’t I?” the grumbled near-incoherentness of my voice asks out to the all too familiar voice, followed by my hands gripping to my sheets and yanking them tighter around me. Of course, even inside my cocoon of cotton, I can hear his small laugh, “Lauren, you know today is important… Get up and seize the day for me, please.” Yes, today is important, but did that really mean I had to get up and face it?

Today was the kind of day that people decided that they were going to finally take care of painting the guest room, which they had been putting off for the past year and a half, even though the original color was getting rather pale looking. Today was the kind of day that the little old ladies on the corner decided to go to the craft store because they heard there was a sale on doilies and yarn. Today was the kind of day that wasn’t anything important to anyone else but me. So why didn’t I want to go through with it?

I heave the sigh as I toss off the sheets and pad into the adjoining bathroom. If I was gonna “seize the day” I was going to do it properly, and with a shower. I turn the silver knobs to their usual positions, lathering and rinsing the amount of times I am supposed to until I’m clean, and then climb back out, making a mess of makeup containers and a blow dryer all over the bathroom counter as I always do. I go back out into my room, towel around myself and walk barefoot to my closet, the low moan of the door sliding back while the medley of colors and textures fill my eyes. I scan over the contents, moving left to right as I would reading a book, until I get to the very end. My hand slips in, pushing back the unwanted apparel to take out a simple black dress, very much looking like it should belong on a morbid-looking baby doll. “You know I think you look cute in that dress,” he tells me, and it just makes me huff a little. The only time he ever saw me in it was only once when I was forced to wear it when our family dog died, and my mother and younger sister decided we were to give it a decent funeral. Well, dog aside, this situation today was of a similar fashion, black nylons and shoes matching to the dress. There’s a small shuffle of my things as I switch what’s in my regular purse to a black pocket book, and since it’s such a nice day, I need nothing else.

Door shut behind me, I walk down the stairs, the house seemingly empty besides myself, and I keep it that way, locking the door and heading out to my rather sad-looking car. You can tell my parents didn’t buy it for me as a graduation present. The car door opens and closes, seatbelt pulled over and buckled, now ready to drive. “Don’t forget the flowers,” I hear him say again, “Any kind is fine though.” I try not to sigh at this comment; like I said, if I was going to seize today, I’d do it properly. So I back out of the driveway, getting into the right lane and drive down to the nearest florist, making sure to keep at the speed limit. I’d done that every time since that day… Today’s day. Such a disheartening feeling to be reminded what today is, but I shake off the feeling; now’s not the time to cry, not when I’m driving. When you’re driving, the whole world seems to be focusing on you in your car, at least that’s how I’ve always felt, and I wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of seeing a tear-soaked, mascara-dripping girl behind the wheel of a 1995 blue-teal Toyota Corolla. The threatening tears soon vanish as the glass encased shop comes into view, the automobile soon parked in front of it. I go inside, glancing over each variety and color of the botanical garden of a shop. “Just pick out something nice,” I could hear him speak again, “Any kind will do…” Of course, my immediate thought was “How about a container of Venus Fly Traps then?” but I merely keep it as such, a thought, and pick up one of the already made bouquet of flowers, white mums, and go over to the register, where the lady knows that she doesn’t need to ask me what the occasion of these flowers are for, and honestly, if she had, I wouldn’t answer. I pull out the money owed, handing her the bills and turn without responding to her “Have a nice day” comment. I’m dressed in black carrying a bouquet of flowers for mourning… Nice was out of the question by now.

“You know where you have to go now,” He spoke again, making me tense at the very thought that, in fact, I do know where I have to go now. The drive is one I’ve made often, though it was always past the graveyard, and never to. Not at any point of the past 364 days had I gone there, not in the past 364 days had I wanted to go there either, but the 365^th day? Yes, I had to go then. Car clamoring to start, the four wheel heap moves back down the road, buildings and shops thinning out to more residential homes and yards now.

I’m not one of those that has ESP, can speak to the dead, or some rather creepy looking kid telling someone that “I see dead people,” but at knowing how close I am to the gravesite makes my stomach churn and fingers grip to the steering wheel all the tighter, knuckles paling to a more whiter color than they already were. “Lauren, calm down,” he speaks again, and immediately his voice makes my small appendages ease up, returning the blood flow to the tips. Getting through today was one thing, but being calm throughout all of it was another.

The gravel path makes a somewhat churning sort of sound under my tires as I pull up into the graveyard, the stone tablets lining themselves along either side of me, surrounding me with the sense of death. No, I didn’t want to be here today at all. The keys remain in the ignition for sometime as I sit there in my seat, contemplating whether to go through with this or not; but I’m already here, I already have the flowers, I’m already dressed for the occasion, what else is left but to set the flowers where they belong? The door opens and my black shoes hit the stones, carrying me across each row and each name, people I’ve never heard of, people that coincidentally had same names with people I knew, and I even had found one that had died the same day I was born. Still, I count off each headstone in my mind, like moving across a chess board to get to the right square. “Wow, the tree looks really pretty at this time of year,” he points out, making me glance at the slender framed tree, it’s branches set in a downcast manner, making me think almost it’s wilting; how proper for a graveyard. And yet at this time of year, the weeping branches are full with soft pink petals and leaves. Of course, leave it to him to point out the silver lining of this choked-with-death cloud.

One row down I stepped, brushing against the granite headstone as I come face to face with the gleaming letters of the name, dates, and small sentence that is usually inscribed onto the stone. “Cadin Thomas. Born September 25^th, 1988. Died May 27, 2007. Beneath this simple stone/That marks his resting place/our precious darling sleeps alone/In the Lord's long embrace.” There had been a slight argument with my family and his over the choice of the epitaph. Both parties wanted the traditional “Loving Son, Caring Brother,” that sort of thing, but when it came to the third thing to list, my family said that since I had been his girlfriend, a mention of that would be nice, but his family argued that a girlfriend isn’t a wife, and therefore shouldn’t be mentioned on something that permanent as an epitaph. I honestly didn’t mind, as I could see the argument from both sides. But I’d rather have had it as that, to be kept from the epitaph than to have this one. Why that? Why did it have to be so painful in such a simple way? Alone… That’s what he was, and that’s what I was. No amount of willpower or amount of cars driving by me could stop these tears now as I set the flowers down on the grave, feeling the sting of the makeup getting into my eyes, hands fumbling to wipe them clean without smudging the makeup all the more.

“Lauren, stop crying,” he tells me softly… No, he doesn’t tell me. He’s dead. Dead men don’t talk. But I can hear him, I can hear his voice. “Lauren, please, don’t cry,” I hear him again, and I only wipe at the tears more furiously, wanting to stop the spilt water from falling any further. “It’s not fair,” I manage to finally say, “Why did it happen? Why am I like this? Why are you dead and alone?” I did what I came here for, now scrambling through the rows to go back to the car. I didn’t want to be here, not now, not ever… Not alone. I reach for the door handle, fingers too frantic and I don’t grasp it in the swift movement, letting it snap back against the door, and I just lean forward against the car. “Lauren, don’t be that way,” the voice comes again, and I want to shut it out. I shouldn’t hear it, not when he’s not here… Not when we’re alone. “But I’m not alone,” he says, the soft sobs from my mouth soon hushed, “I am here with you now, as you are with me. How can either of us be alone?” My body lifts from the car, sniffling softly as I slowly grab the car door handle, opening it and climbing back into my seat, ignition turned back on. “I love you, Lauren,” he says, “I’ll make sure you’re never alone.” I want to smile, but not today, keep it on the inside. “I know,” I answer, rolling the car back, able to turn it around and leave the cemetery. I’ll be back in another 364 days… But not alone.

A Fanfiction Response to MaeB

2008-12-17T09:36:00Z

This is a response back to MaeB's little fanfiction about Miyavi x Ruki. I found it rather amusing, and I hope others do (or at least she does X3 )

A Little Help from my Friends

Kai always had a habit of waking up before all the other band members. No one else seemed to be a morning person other than him, which was a good thing, especially now, especially when he got the “itch.” He hadn’t done anything about it the past few times he got this way since he had been so worn out from either shooting PVs or concerts, or anything in between. But the band hadn’t been working on much recently, so such things could now be taken care of. He just had to make sure that none of the others woke up while he did it. As much as they might not be morning people, they were rather light sleepers. Any sort of noise might wake them up and ruin Kai’s moment. But now he had time to himself. He had to satiate this hunger.

Slowly and silently the dark haired male crawled out of bed, letting his toes dance across each floorboard before putting any weight on it, seeing if the wood would betray him and squeak, giving him away. Step by step, the male moved down the hallway.

It didn’t take much to prep himself, but once situated, his routine was like clockwork. Sometimes, if he was in a rush to finish, he could make himself finish much faster than normal, but usually he liked to take his time with this sort of thing, enjoy the process. Everyone was asleep, he could do it for as long as he wanted, take his time.

His left hand enclosed around the length, finding it surprisingly chilly to the touch, but it would be just moments before it’d warm up under his hand. Soft hisses filled the air, nothing that Kai had to worry about the others hearing though. His right hand slowly began pushing and pulling, just watching the reaction he got from it for now. Soon enough though, he’d speed things up.

Kai licked his slightly chapped bottom lip, slowly going a bit faster with his movements. Whether it was the sleep still lingering in his body or that he was just too wrapped up in what he was doing, he didn’t notice the new figure in the room until it was too late, the all too familiar hand sliding on top of Kai’s own, startling the poor male. He thought he had been quiet enough, he thought that he could finish before anyone knew, but now it was too late.

“Uru-san, what are you doing?” The drummer’s voice was wavering as Uruha now stood behind him.

“I’m just trying to help you, Kai-kun,” The guitarist cooed into the other’s ear, his hand on top of Kai’s, feeling each knuckle and tendon that was curled around the hardened length.

“I-I don’t need your help,” Kai tried to convince Uruha to get his hand off of his, goose bumps forming across the back of his hand at the touch, still he kept at what he was doing though. He couldn’t stop, not midway through it.

“Why not? I’ve seen you and Reita do this before,” Uruha tried to reason with Kai. Why should he be left out when others had done this with Kai too?

“I didn’t know you saw that, Uru-san,” Kai admitted, “I didn’t want Reita-san to help either, but he kept insisting, so I finally let him.” That was one of Kai’s weaknesses—He was such a push over, especially when it came to his band mates. Even he knew that, though it would never change; he was always going to be that kind of person.

Kai’s other hand was now working as well, moving in the rhythmic motion of back and forth across the slippery surface, his other hand steady on the base. But that steadiness was soon shaken as Uruha’s other hand snaked around his back and rested a top the hand that was in constant motion. It was just enough to catch Kai off guard, his hand jerking upwards and spilling the hot substance on his other hand.

“Ah!” Kai yelped slightly, feeling like such a fool now that he had done that, especially in front of Uruha. In all the times that he had done this, he had never gotten any on his hand. Uruha just grabbed a cloth and dabbed at the sticky mess on the other’s hand.

“You should be more careful, Kai-kun,” Uruha commented, “Can’t have you burning yourself making French toast, now can we? Go wash your hand off, I don’t think I wiped all the butter off…” Uruha ushered Kai over to the sink, taking over the drummer’s job. He gripped the base of the metal handle of the frying pan, using the chopsticks like Kai had in a back and forth motion in the skillet, pushing the pieces of bread around in the slick pan coated in butter.

“It’s not my fault you made me slosh it up out of the pan,” Kai commented, a little pout poking at each corner of his lips. He stuck his hand under the cool water of the sink, looking at the slightly reddened hand. It didn’t look too bad, probably be healed by the end of the day.

“Next time, if you want to help me, don’t just reach in and grab my hands, alright?” Kai asked of the guitarist, who glanced over at the other, then back to the food, continuing to push it about.

“I’m sorry, but Reita got to make it with you before, so I wanted to help Kai-kun too,” Uruha tried to reason with Kai. The reason that Kai didn’t want people helping him was because he wanted to be able to give his band members a treat he made on his own just like he had with the cheesecake before. Cooking was the one skill he wanted to improve on just as much as drumming. He just didn’t like making mistakes like burning himself in front of others, or messing up recipes, which was why he had silently beaten himself up when he scalded his hand with the splattered butter.

Kai dried off his hands with a towel and got out two plates and two sets of chopsticks, letting Uruha slide the finished products off out of the skillet with the cooking chopsticks, and onto the plates. The fair haired male set the dirty dishes into the sink while Kai went out into the living room, holding Uruha’s plate until the guitarist was able to join him for their breakfast.

Uruha placed himself right beside Kai on the couch, the two giving thanks for their food before finally digging in. French toast in the early morning hours: it didn’t get much better than this. Kai gingerly turned towards Uruha who had just placed his third bite of French toast into his mouth.

“Thanks for helping, Uru-san,” Kai said to the other male. Uruha had meant well and it wasn’t like he didn’t enjoy the other’s company cooking, Uruha graced Kai with a smile, waiting to swallow his bite before speaking.

“You’re welcome, Kai,” Uruha remarked back, the drummer’s lips pulling upwards into the adorable dimpled smile he was so known for before returning back to his food, “Can I make love to you?”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Uruha returned to his food.

Catch up time!

2008-12-13T09:33:39Z

Alright, so much to catch up on and so little time (as it's nearly 4:30 am here XD ) So will be brief with everything!

Finals are starting next week-- Am ready for them, but not for my final grades. If they're not Bs or higher, my parents say I'm going to have to leave college and go to one back in CT. Bullshit that they make me do that, but whatever. We'll see.

Alex and I? Over. Yeah, it sucks. I miss him. It was a bad relationship anyways, but I still have feelings for him. I talk to and text him still, but it's not the same... He says he doesn't want to be friends because then he won't get over me, yet we're not together anymore, so what does that make us? He was going to propose to me and everything, so I can understand why he doesn't want to be friends, yet at the same time I still want him in my life...
Am single, but far from being unwanted. There are several men that have continuously flirted with me, and I'm not particularly interested in being in a relationship at the moment. I just left a 1 and a half year relationship, time to be "Ren" and not "Ren and Co." as Maureen likes to put it. Still, I love me some boys so it's only natural that I flirt back... Gawd this'd be a lot easier if they were cute Japanese boys >.<

Cosplay-wise... Snap, we're not even going to get in to that. A lot of what I'm doing is changed, and once it's completely finalized, I'll post up an update. Going to Japan is still an option, but it doesn't coincide with Anime Boston-- Yay 83

THAT'S IT FOR NOW, LJ. CATCH YOU ON THE FLIP SIDE <3333

J-Rock Birthdays :D

2008-09-17T03:14:38Z

I says happy birthday to you today, Tora!! The big 2-8! And yet you're still looking as fine as evers :3 So am going to post up all J-Rock birthdays that I know, just for everyone's (mostly my) reference! Why is it that none nof them have their birthdays the same day as me? Shameful :c

January:
Natsuki (-OZ-)-January 1
Yossy (Brain Hacker)–January 1
Kaine (Velbet)-January 2
Riku (ex-Phantasmagoria)-January 3
Miku (Antic Cafe)–January 5
Atsuto (Sugar)-January 7
Shinno (NoGoD)–January 8
Iori (ex-Phantasmagoria)-January 10
Shinya (ex-Luna Sea)–January 13
Shun (Juliadoll)-January 15
Nakayama Akira (Plastic Tree)- January 16
Lida (ex-Psycho le cemu)–January 16
Maimai (Eternal Gage)-January 18
Moe (AILE)-January 19
Aoi (The GazettE)–January 20
Hinata (Secilia Luna)-January 20
Rui (Juliadoll)-January 20
Ren (Dali)-January 21
Ka-yu (Janne Da Arc)–January 21
Heath (X-Japan)-January 22
Takumi (Rentrer en Soi)–January 22
Yousuke (DIABLO)–January 22
Higuchi Yutaka (BUCK TICK)–January 24
Kana–January 26
Ryuuto (Clearveil)-January 26
Yasu (Janne Da Arc)–January 27
Hyde–January 29

February:
Ruki (The GazettE)–February 1
Kami (ex-Malice Mizer)–February 1
Hisashi (GLAY)–February 2
Ikuto (Karma Shenjing)–February 2
Aki (SID)–February 3
Nao (kagrra,)–February 5
Daishi (ex-Psycho le cemu)–February 5
Yuki (LOST NAME)-February 5
Shinji (SID)–February 8
Takuya (Antic Cafe)-February 9
Reishi (Secilia Luna)-February 10
Izumi (kagrra,)–February 11
Nero (Merry)–February 11
Shivi (LOST NAME)-February 12
Shun (Rentrer en Soi)–February 13
Ryouki (KuRt)–February 14
Shun (Vidoll)-February 15
Issei (LOST NAME)-February 16
Kyo (Dir en Grey)–February 16
HIZAKI (Versailles)-February 17
Kaoru (Dir en Grey)–February 17
Kenji (as.milk)-February 17
Nozomi (Clearveil)-February 17
Rei (Danger*Gang)-February 18
Taizo (Zoro)-February 18
YUKI (Versailles)-February 18
Ruiza (D)–February 18
Dunch (jealkb)- February 19
Kohsuke (heidi.)–February 19
Kusanagi Haruto (DIABLO)–February 20
Hiiragi (Larme d’ange)-February 23
Kirito–February 24
Shinya (Dir en Grey)–February 24
Keiyu (Kra)–February 26

March:
Gou (Megamasso)–March 1
Hizumi (D’espairsRay)–March 2
Chachamaru(GacktJob)-March 3
Hitsugi (Nightmare)–March 5
Tsunehito (D)–March 5
Arimura Ryutaro (Plastic Tree)- March 6
Tsukasa (D’espairsRay)–March 6
Rui (NoveLis)-March 7
Miko (exist†trace)–March 7
Sakurai Atsushi (BUCK TICK)–March 7
Jasmine You (Versailles)-March 8
Kisaki (ex-Phantasmagoria/Kisaki Project)- March 10
Jun (UnsraW)–March 12
Aya (ex-Psycho le Cemu)–March 17
Mana (ex-Malice Mizer)–March 19
DI (Eternal Gage)-March 20
Shin (Secilia Luna)-March 20
Naoya (DIABLO)–March 20
Omi (exist†trace)–March 20
Yuana (ex-Kagerou)–March 21
Sou (Lolita23Q)–March 25
Ryohei (Megamasso)–March 27
yuky (NoveLis)-March 28
Toshiya (Dir en Grey)–March 31

April:
Hideki (jealkb)- April 2
Jouei (as.milk)-April 2
Yuu (Merry)–April 2
Zukki (-OZ-)-April 3
Wataru (ex.Delphinium)-April 6
Tohru (12012)–April 7
Jyou (exist†trace)–April 10
TERU (Versailles)-April 10
Mai (Kra)–April 14
Saburou (KuRt)-April 14
Takuma (BABYLON)–April 16
Saki (Dali)-April 21
Daishi (Amaterasu)–April 23
SAN (Nega)–April 25
Sakito (Due le Quartz/Figure)–April 26
Sunao (Abingdon Boys School)–April 28
Ryo (Rentrer en soi)–April 29
Ryuto (Lolita23Q)–April 29
Yuji (as.milk)-April 29

May:
Ko-ki (NoveLis)–May 1
Kuro (VelBet)-May 2
Klaha (ex-Malice Mizer)–May 3
Hiroto (alice nine.)–May 4
Jun (ex-Pierrot)–May 4
Shun (LOST NAME)-May 4
Yu≠ki (Lolita23Q)–May 4
Mamo[R-15]- May 5
Waka (Danger*Gang)-May 5
Hora (ex-Schwarz Stein)-May 10
Takeru (SuG)-May 11
Kayuki (homura)-May 16
Ryuichi (ex-Luna Sea)–May 20
Masato (SuG)-May 21
Takuro (GLAY)–May 26
Reita (The GazettE)–May 27
Kozi (ex-Malice Mizer)–May 29

June:
Riu (metronome)- June 1
Ryo (BLOOD)- June 2
Kohta (ex-Pierrot)–June 3
Saki (Clearveil)-June 3
Reno (NoveLis)-June 4
Teru (GLAY)–June 8
Uruha (The GazettE)–June 9
Yuusuke (12012)–June 9
Ruka (Nightmare)–June 9
Misa (BABYLON)–June 10
Rame (Vidoll)-June 11
Mika (Rentrer en soi)–June 12
Hoshino Hidehiko (BUCK TICK)–June 16
Karin (NoGoD)–June 20
Ni~Ya (Nightmare)–June 23
Saga (alice nine.)–June 24
Sho (UnsraW)–June 25
Hiroaki (12012)–June 25
Kiyo (Janne Da Arc)–June 27
Sakito (Nightmare)–June 29
Ruka (hime ichigo)–June 29
Mofto (jealkb)- June 29
Jui (Vidoll)-June 30

July:
Gackt–July 4 (?)
Ivy (DIO~Distraught Overlord~)- July 5
Shou (alice nine.)–July 5
Kanon (Antic Cafe)–July 5
Gara (Merry)–July 6
Ryosuke (Lolita23Q)–July 6
Yuya (Zoro)-July 6
Takeru (ex-DIABLO)–July 7
Sugizo (ex-Luna sea)–July 8
Takeo (ex-Pierrot)–July 11
Jin (hime ichigo)–July 11
Taiji (ex-X-Japan)–July 12
Shizumi (ex-Kagerou)–July 12
Ni (Girugamesh)–July 13
Yomi (Nightmare)–July 14
Kenichi (merry)–July 14
Kaya (ex-Schwarz Stein)-July 17
KAMIJO (Versailles)-July 19
Jun (hime ichigo)–July 19
Hiroki (D)–July 20
Wataru (12012)–July 23
Ryo (baroque)–July 24
You (Janne Da Arc)–July 24
Miya (MUCC)–July 26
Daisuke (ex-Kagerou)–July 30
Maya (LM.C)- July 30
Nao (alice nine.)–July 31
Zero (D’espairsRay)–July 31

August:
Yue (AILE)–August 1
Yuki (HeaRt)–August 2
Takashi (VelBet)-August 4
Denka (DIO~Distraught Overlord~)- August 5
Yu~ki (ex-Malice Mizer)–August 8
Tsuyoshi (AILE)–August 9
SEIJI (Brain Hacker)–August 9
Sharaku (metronome)-August 10
Kazune (Brain Hacker)–August 11
J (ex-Luna Sea)–August 12
Yura (Kra)–August 12
kei (baroque)–August 12
SATOchi (MUCC)–August 12
Yuki (UnsraW)–August 16
Nao (heidi.)–August 18
Yagami Toll (BUCK TICK)–August 19
Yuu (Nega)–August 19
Fu-ki (BLOOD)-August 20
Giru (Vidoll)–-August 21
Tatsuro (MUCC)–August 21
Sakika (Karma Shenjing)–August 22
Takehito (Ayabie)–August 24
Masumi (Wizard)–August 25
Akiya (kagrra,)—August 25
Asagi (D)–August 29
SIZNA (Sugar)-August 29
Yuki (Antic Cafe)–August 29
Akira (baroque)–August 30

September:
Keeto (Dali)-September 1
K (NoGoD)–September 4
Riuki (VelBet)-September 5
Tero (Vidoll)-September 8
Akira (Amaterasu)–September 9
Shin (kagrra,)–September 11
Maya (BABYLON)–September 12
Yura-sama (ex-Psycho le cemu)–September 12
seek (ex-Psycho le cemu)–September 14
Miyavi–September 14
Bou (ex-Antic Cafe)–September 16
Tora (alice nine.)–September 17
Takanori Nishikawa (Abingdon Boys School)–September 19
Ryo (Girugamesh)–September 20
BAN (Lolita23Q)-September 24
Ediee (jealkb)- September 24
Ryuji (Zoro)-September 24
Thera (Danger*Gang)-September 24
Matoi (ex-Phantasmagoria)-September 25
Kiri (heidi.)–September 27
Rei (v[Neu])- September 28
Inoran (ex-Luna Sea)–September 29
Haku (BABYLON)–September 29

October:
Sakura (NoveLis)-October 2
Tetsu (L’Arc~en~Ciel)–October 3
Juka –October 4
Mahiru (ex.Delphinium)-October 4
Naoto (exist†trace)–October 5
Tomoyuki (12012)–October 7
Saki (as.milk)-October 8
Toshi (ex-X-Japan)–October 10
Sasabuchi Hiroshi (Plastic Tree)- October 12
Mitsuru (SuG)-October 12
Satoshi (Girugamesh)–October 13
Kou (DIABLO)–October 14
Sin (Juliadoll)-October 14
Shui (homura)-October 16
Jiro (GLAY)–October 17
Ririe (Larme d’ange)-October 17
Toshiyuki Kishi (Abingdon Boys School)–October 17
Kaede (BLOOD)-October 18
Yoshiko (heidi.)–October 19
Imai Hisahi (BUCK TICK)–October 21
Yuji (SuG)-October 21
Nono (v[Neu])- October 22
Aki (Larme d’ange)-October 23
Mao (SID)–October 23
Chaos (jealkb)- October 24
Kohsuke (AILE)-October 24
Kai (The GazettE)–October 28
Bansaku (ex-baroque)–October 29
Shunna (Dali)-October 31

November:
Yuusuke (homura)-November 1
Pata (ex X Japan)-November 4
Yasuno (Kra)–November 4
Reki (Secilia Luna)-November 5
Yukke (MUCC)–November 5
NoBu (Brain Hacker)–November 9
Ryouichi (BABYLON)–November 13
Kiaki (KuRt)-November 13
Hasegawa Tadashi (Plastic Tree)- November 16
Aiji (ex-Pierrot/LM.C)–November 17
JUN (ex-Phantasmagoria)-November 17
Kazu (ex-Kagerou)–November 18
Hide-ZOU (D)–November 19
Yoshiki (ex-X-Japan)–November 20
Akito (AILE)-November 21
Shuji (Janne Da Arc)–November 21
Tetsu (Merry)–November 21
Shintaro (metronome)- November 23
Yuto (Eternal Gage)-November 23
Mio (ex.Delphinium)-November 24
Tatsuhi (Zoro)-November 24
Yukihiro (L’Arc~en~Ciel)–November 24
Mally (exist†trace)–November 27
Ken (L’Arc~en~Ciel)–November 28
Hisayoshi (Clearveil)-November 29
Kyrie (NoGoD)–November 29
Tama (-OZ-)-November 29

December:
-Shadow- (Larme d’ange)-December 1
Jun (v[Neu])- December 2
Riku (ex.Delphinium)-December 2
Hixro (v[Neu])- December 3
Haderu (jealkb)- December 4
Kyoki (Secilia Luna)-December 4
Naruka (Clearveil)-December 4
Reina (hime ichigo)–December 6
Ishi (kagrra)–December 7
Karyu (D’espairsRay)–December 7
Myui (ex. Delphinium)-December 7
Aki (-OZ-)-December 8
Mikaru (DIO~Distraught Overlord~)- December 8
Teruki (Antic Cafe)–December 8
Erina (DIO~Distraught Overlord~)- December 9
Fukusuke (metronome)- December 9
Yuya (SID)–December 9
Hiko (Danger*Gang)-December 10
Yuu (Dali)-December 12
Tetsu (ex-Malice Mizer)–December 12
hide–December 13
Shibasaki Hiroshi (Abingdon Boys School)–December 13
Elsa (jealkb)- December 16
Nao (Juliadoll)-December 19
Die (Dir en Grey)–December 20
Ao (Rentrer en soi)–December 20
Loki (Sugar)-December 22
Danchou (NoGoD)–December 23
Nao (-OZ-)- December 23
Kei (DIO~Distraught Overlord~)- December 26
Shingo (Sugar)-December 26
Shuu (Girugamesh)–December 26
Chiyu (SuG)-December 27

The Life of a Cosplayer

2008-09-17T02:51:20Z

So today I was supposed to go over to my friend Maureen's apartment to work on my dreads today, but work study kinda ran me over, and I was unable to in the end. Le sigh, in the grand scheme of cosplaying, I think I'm starting to get behind.

I have to make Ruki's costume from the Cockroach PV, Kaoru Hitachiin's costume from the Haruhi in Wonderland episode of Ouran High School Host Club, Zero Kyruu's day class uniform from Vampire Knight, and my cyber-inspired rave costume with the dreaded wig, all in time for Anime Boston. I realize that that is far away, but I'm not done yet! Maureen wants to finish the rave costume in time for Halloween so we can wear it for then, so that cuts down time for that outfit. I was invited to several more cons before Anime Boston, so if I want more costumes for those, I need to finish my costumes even sooner. To top that all off, I am making a Shinsugumi outfit for a friend for the next con she goes to [will probably be Anime Boston, but might be a con even sooner than that] as well as make Maureen her Honey-chan coat from the Haruhi in Wonderland episode, help her make her Kishin coat from Soul Eater, and help her make her rave outfit as well. But that's not all! For ConnectiCon, I have to make nine-- count them!-- nine costumes! For myself, I have to make Orochimaru's outfit from Naruto, a Koopa outfit from Mario, and a Psyduck from Pokemon; the last two are gonna be one of those huge costumes that look like the people walking around at Disneyworld. For my siblings I have to make Pikachu and Munchlax from Pokemon, HammerBro and Mario from Mario, and Konkuro and Crowe from Naruto. Count them and see that there's nine I have to make!! So while still being in college and working, where do I think I'm going to get the time to make all of these outfits? And I still take commissions/help friends out with their costumes, so who knows what else I'll need to do later on down the year.

Now one huge problem is whether or not I will even be going to Anime Boston '09 or not. See, I take a Japanese class at my college, and a week ago I found out there was going to be a trip to Japan after the end of the school year. Now, I am in lovelovelove with the Japanese culture and fashion and music scene, so why wouldn't I go after all, right?! Only problem-- It's a 10 day trip, and we wouldn't leave till either May 10th or some time after that. Now, taking all of that into consideration (if your math skills are that good) if we left like any time after the 10th or 11th of May, that would mean that I'd miss Anime Boston, which is what I look forward to like every year, and am making several costumes/outfits for. Also, my friend Nicole is coming up from Texas to go to it, and my friend Maureen and several of her friends are coming from all around New England to go as well. While the others would still obviously be able to go, Nicole wouldn't be able to go if I wasn't there, now would she? Which causes my dilemma. She wants to go to Japan as much as I do, as well, so I'm going to talk to my teacher to see if that'd be possible to arrange her going as well, but we're not sure how all of this is going to work out anyways... Why do the two most important events of the year have to coincide with one another?!

Anyways, I will keep you all posted about my cosplays, dreads, etc. and hopefully things will work out, Nicole!

Starting this up!

2008-09-17T02:22:59Z

Alright, I have never done much with Live Journal ever in my life. The most I've done with this was write a fanfic for a friend, which I had posted up here earlier, but as a writer, I felt that I didn't want that to be what was represented as my work on the whole, so I deleted it. Perhaps I'll go back and edit it, make it better-- Or not do anything with it again, either way.

Anyways! So back to Live Journal! The only thing I used to do with this was go on to read what my best friend Nicole would write about her day-to-day adventures. I read her latest one where it mentioned me, so I was like, "I wanna respond to that!" but not just in comment form. And so my posts in live journal were born! I have lots of things to write about ever since I started my second year of college, which I am only into my third week of, so best to get it all down for my own amusement :3

Where to start? Alright, quick go over of who I am in magical bullet form!

I am 19 and a half years old-- Born Jan. 28th, 1989
Lived all of my life in little ole' Ellington, CT
Go to school in Burlington, VT at Champlain College
Have a 16 year old sis and a 10 year old brother-- Parents are still together
Loves: J-Rock, cosplaying, anime, manga, writing, swimming, drawing, doggies, winter, shopping, and whatever else I might add later.
Dislikes: ... I'm sure there's stuff, but I'm too bored with writing it all down that I'll add things in later

If I think up more facts about me, I'll put them up, but as I go along throughout my other posts, I'll probably tell some more, so try to bare with me :3