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Amusing Hope.

I created a community because there are a few people I would like to join it here in town and possibly strangers on LJ.
I want to hear what happens to a writer's spirit as they progress through life.
Who thinks of the killers and villains in some of the most sickening horrors?
I want to hear role players curse and angry people go off on anarchy.
I want to enjoy some company.
I wouldn't mind hearing someone bitch once in a while.

Get it all out.

Sounds delicious.

Writer's Block: The Nose Knows

What is your favorite smell? What does it remind you of?


I love the smell of moving dust in the sunlight.
It reminds me of childhood and how slow time used to move.
For seconds, minutes, you can watch the dust flow like smoke in the stagnant  air
The scent of a softer sun hitting the window pane, wood and dirt.
The glint of sun rays on your skin as you try to touch the dust,
But they are all too swift for your mortal attempts..

Smells like smiling.

Vantae Black, my favorite character!

Vantae Black
5'7"
136 lbs.
Long wavy ruby tendrils for a mane of hair.
A dark whisper of eyelashes shrouding ebony irises with a rare aqua pupil.
Tiny tribal swirls adorn the pale skin around her eyes like vines, climbing down the contour of her jaw line-
Trailing your vision down to her mouth, full and flushed,
Noticing the nicks and small scars from constantly biting her lips with a rigid fang.
Nervous habit.

Her maker, Wolven Chaos, was one of the first wamphryi vampires. He started a clan of beautiful and dangerous creatures.
When the realm of Ayenee was beginning to crumble, she escaped and lived in the wild for a many many years.
Her heart still lies with her clan and with Wolven, but knowledge of his existence any further than the realm of Ayenee is limited.
Vantae is now coming back into civilization and into The Keep.
She doesn't know if she is accepted yet amongst the masses, but her curious nature will not let herself be forced back into hiding.

The wamphryi leech that once wrapped itself around her spine had died the longer she was away from her master and maker.
Now only a mere vampire, her beast form only stirs in her blood flecked temper.  Fluttering darkly behind her eyes.
A piece of her now lost, Vantae must overcome her depression and loss and grow into her once lovable sporadic self.

A dangerous beast mixed with the lovely maternal qualities of a human woman- constantly contradicting herself.
She has a passion for seeing the dead and finding the most beauty in it.
Her breath may quicken when the stir of her beast overcomes her emotions.

Her skin begins to blister and heal itself erratically, growing too hot to touch, a steam rolling off her limbs.
Her eyes bleed out red and glisten with fluid.
Her voice becomes low and deep, growling and biting as she speaks.

There is no added strength to Vantae when she reacts like this. Only an amount of intimidation comes across, but still she is only a vampire.

When she settles she must feed or drink from a stash of magically enhanced blood in a vile (enhanced only so it doesn't go bad)
usually hanging around her neck.

Vantae is passionate for her loves and compassionate to the things she hates. She accepts people rather easily for how they are and disregards them easily if they aren't worth the effort and time.

All in all, a vampire with a silver heart and a quick temper. Never fall in love with her.

It could be the death of you.

But she loves to make friends!





and eat them too..

Because I want to.

These are a few of my favorites.














Death is beauty. Death is beauty.

I don't see this in me. I don't see this in me.

How they found me. How they found me.



Yes. I am a nerd.

I found an excellent new free form role play chat. I...enjoy these things very much and I am not afraid to admit them.

www.nexxushost.com

I play in The Keep.

Weird

I added my old journal to my friends...because I'm a freak like that. Its interested to know I felt seven years ago. I wish I had the password because then I would just..continue, ya know? I have another journal older than that one, but god knows what I did with it.

I mind is so fizzled with drinking and stupid stuff that I am surprised I remember this one.
Better...damn three dollars a month.

I have to work today and I am trying not to kill myself because of it. I am tiiiiiired.
I'm coming warcraft..let's see what you can do for me.

Blargh

I feel sickly. Blah.
I have a headache, stomach ache, and I feel terribly bloated...

But anyway

I have straight hair! I know its a very girly thing to be happy about, but my entire life I have always felt like a mess because of the constant frizz and unholy wreck of my ruby locks.

Perhaps, just perhaps.
I shall begin to fast as much as I can to
Clean out the nasty in my body
and get my senses into to the process
Of losing weight.
80 lbs.

I have faith
That I can change myself into anything
Or anyone.
Maybe I can change into myself.
My mind is there, but my body isn't.
This is going to be a painful
Raging procedure.

Wish me luck.

Something relating to below.

A little bit of pain
Not awake enough
To realize where its coming from,
Not awake enough
To care.

Could it be the knife
Twisting between my shoulder blades,
Could it be the hand
Snarled in my hair,
Keeping me above the surface

Sweet unconsciousness
Sips on my soul

Light bright, blistered lip
Hold your breath
Yellow bile.

I'm definitely not 16 anymore.

Friday night I was given an Oxy, and yes, I took it. Stupid me.

It didn't feel like it was too strong, so I began to drink. I drank an honest amount, not too much and went home before two in the morning.
Went home, smoke some resin with the neighbors and had one last drink before I went off to bed.
Past out and unknowingly more fucked up than I thought...I apparently (as my boyfriend reported) got up around 3:30 and would not stop puking and crying..great.

I got back to sleep around 5:30 and awoke again at ten to get ready for work. Everything was blurry and disorientated.
It felt like I was in a warp tunnel and everything was moving faster around me then I was.
There was a burn in my stomach that blistered into severe pain.
My brain sloshed around in my skull every time I moved.
Nausea sank in once again.

My boyfriend, thank god, didn't let me walk to work by myself and helped me get there.
Two times on the way I puked brownish yellow bile in the middle of downtown. *sigh*
How embarrassing. ..
I got to work, he came in with me, the light was too bright and everything crashed down on top of me, pinning me to the floor and the toilet.

I can't count the amount of times I vomited, but every time I did, some bile came up.  I started to get scared and  worried about my well being
I could NOT work. It just wasn't going to happen while I was passing out on the bathroom floor.

Justin (boyfriend) called a cab and I barely remember getting up the stairs to get into it. On the way home the cab had to pull over and let me throw up in heavy traffic, and then Justin gave me a paper bag to puke into until we got the few blocks to the house.

I was so...scared.

In the elevator I almost passed out, my eyes rolling around in my skull until I could barely keep them open.
"I'm so fucking stupid" and "it hurts so bad" were the only things I could say in my head or out loud.

I slept until 5:30 in the evening and called the Underground to make sure I wasn't fired and everything was okay.
Thank christ it was.

I fell back asleep till about 7 or 8 and then tried desperately to not feel disgusting.

I pissed the bed, puked two more times, and couldn't eat anything until 11:30 at night.

Fuck me.

Horrible experience. Never doing it again.

I lost so much pride and shame devoured my heart. I am still recovering today, but at least I still have my awesome job and no on hates me....except for maybe the people of downtown because I was all sorts of pukey and disgusting. But fuck 'em. I paid for it dearly.

I can't do the things I used to anymore.
I love pot and having some cocktails, but harder drugs are not for me anymore. Especially synthetic heroin.

I was so stupid.

unforgotten.

I bar tended and served today. I hated it. I love working at night, but the whole smiling constantly and with no result just drives me...fucking insane. A dollar tip here. Fifty cents there...money sweaty from being clenched in their palms for too long, hoping and wishing that they didn't feel terrible if they gave me nothing at all.

I tip too much, I suppose. I understand that feeling of unworthiness and wasted effort when someone throws thirty six cents into my jar and doesn't reply when I say have a nice day. For a job like this, you automatically have to become a passive aggressive person.

Hold down every emotion
Project a face of contentment.
Explode when you have your first cigarette of the morning.


At night time things are completely different.

Live in an atmosphere mainly of carbon monoxide.
Spend too much money.
You are allowed to give attitude to anyone you want, because they are probably too drunk to realize it.


Or they deserved it.

My Tuesday is probably one of the few things that honestly make me excited.
I feel irritated and unattractive otherwise.

Pricks.