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 "As your hand closed around my neck, I closed my eyes and just let myself feel everything you were doing to me... the way you thrust inside me, the way your fingers squeezed, the adrenaline, the euphoria... and then I felt your hand on the back of my neck and I realised... I wanted you to keep it there. I wasn't afraid anymore."

Meh.

 Someone tell me to write... :/

My head's full of Bryan Dick and Killian Donnely.

I saw Les Misérables last night and it was the single most emotional, fulfilling experience of my life.

And now I want to write.

Fic: Unexpected Interest?

Fandom: Patd/Leathermouth
Pairing: Spencer Smith/Frank Iero (Kinda)
Rating: PG - if that.
POV: 3rd
Warnings: None
Notes: wrote this when I first started listening to Leathermouth, Can't quite remember when. It's short n sweet and oh so long ago <3

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Sep. 19th, 2010

Going through my old fic folders... and Jesus fucking CHRIST there's a veritable FUCKTON of crap in here!

AND I FOUND MY SPENCER SMITH/FRANK IERO DRABBLE!

Love that so much!

It's so weird to see how my writing has changed over the years... I've got fics in here from 2005!

Btw? To anyone who might scoff at fanfiction and think it's a crock o' crap designed by people with no lives to maintain that sad, sorry existance... this crock o' crap helped me get into College so there! *stick tongue out*

When I say helped me get into college... I mean helped me better my grasp on the English language, better my writing skill and give me an all around better understanding of structure.

And it's obvious, I've taken most of that and thrown it out the window! But at least I'm in Uni now ;D

*grin*

I'll just go read... more now.

even though I should be writing more (A)

Sep. 16th, 2010

TESTING

TESTING

TESTING

TESTING

TESTING

TESTING

TESTING

TESTING

TESTING

 

Far too many ideas running through my head. Sometimes it gets so bad that I can't move my fingers to type the words...
*sigh*

Oh, I've F-locked pretty much all my fics... if I've missed some out, it's for a reason.
Reading over past posts and came to the conclusion that I was, and probably still am, a serious twat. Oh well.

Fun though :)

Ike

Anyone got any news on IKE and its affect on Houston?

I have a friend there and am kinda concerned...

and by kinda, I mean a lot.

thanks
If you could pick any TV show that has been off the air to come back for one more season, which show would you pick and why?
Dead Like Me.

She was so deadpan it was too funny. And he rocked to the core dude

If Light Were Dark, And Dark Were Light

Is there some kind of pre-requisite for our favourite artists to have stemmed from some fucked up form of living before becoming successful and near enough responsible by the very words they speak, the thoughts they think, the fucking scent they emit, for hundreds of thousands of fans wanting, needing, fucking dying to be just as, if not more fucked up?

Is there a rule book somewhere that says you have to have at least one shitty thing happen to you in your life that affects you so much that you mar the world with your fucked up brand of emo?

Is there some spectacular narrative that states the great whoever had some Earth-shattering experience and suddenly saw a blinding light.

Right before he walked into it?

Is it possible for someone to be so unhappy with their lives, for them to be so depressed, so down on themselves, that they decide they can't do it anymore?

Of course that's possible.

I don't even know why I asked.

But is it fair for a person; a talented, well liked, well loved, well adored, revered, respected, person, who decide they can't do it anymore?

No, it isn't. But it happens.

And what's he a martyr of? Being screwed up? Having more money than sense? Having a daughter to take care of, only to leave her to grow up fatherless? Having a career in which he becomes an internationally acclaimed near-enough-brand name?

Did he end it because he couldn't handle the lime-light? Because he didn't want to be a parent anymore? Because.. what? He just didn't give a fuck?

Maybe it was an accident, maybe he didn't want to end it; he just wanted a hit. And took a hit that went too far. Maybe maybe maybe maybe.

And Maybe Elvis isn't dead.
Maybe I'm still 17.
Maybe we're living in a world that is as peaceful as it is ever going to be.

And Maybe... just maybe... every fucker in this knowledge, wants to say a huge 'fuck you, you selish fuck.'

I know I do.