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BASIC INFORMATION

Full name: Kayla Blaisdale

Pronunciation: kay-la blaze-dale

Nickname(s) or Alias: Kay, Goose, Nosebleed, Red / Dimitri, Dimi.

Gender: Female.

Species: Human.

Age: FO3 - 19, FONV - 23.

Birthday: July 13, 2258.

Sexuality: Heterosexual, for the most part.

Nationality: American, with Irish roots.

Religion: Believes in God, but is casually religious at best.

City or town of birth: Vault 101.

Currently lives: Megaton, until 2280. New Vegas.

Languages spoken: English.

Native language: English.

Relationship Status: It's complicated.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Height: 6'

Weight: 170 lbs.

Figure/build: Lean and slender, with developed muscles in her arms and legs - her main weapons when no hand held weapon can be acquired.

Hair colour: Burgundy/Dark Red.

Hairstyle: Long(to shoulderblades), mostly un-styled save for trimmed bangs. Worn in a ponytail most of the time, either done up like in-game, or left to hang down.

Eye colour: Bright Green.

Skin/fur/etc colour: Pale, freckled.

Tattoos: Acquires a Tunnel Snake snake tattoo during her trip to New Vegas. It is on her left arm.

Piercings: 9 rings in each ear, 1 nipple piercing - right side.

Scars/distinguishing marks: Right bicep - bullet graze. Underside of left arm - cut. Left side of rib cage - ripper graze. Right shoulder - bullet wound. Cheek marks.

Preferred style of clothing: Vault suits, leather jackets, t-shirts, tanktops, jeans, combat boots.

Frequently worn jewellery: TBA

HEALTH

Smoker? No.

Drinker? Yes.

Drug User? Which? Nope.

Addictions: None.

Allergies: None discovered so far.

Any physical ailments/illnesses/disabilities: She took a bullet to the shoulder, and it sometimes gets cranky.

Any medication regularly taken: None.

PERSONALITY

Personality: Generally, she's nice to people who she feels are deserving, and belligerent to those who aren't(unless they're some sort of authority person, and could make her life hell if she got on their bad side). However, she has a quick temper and isn't afraid of starting fist fights with certain individuals. She is somewhat quiet and doesn't share her feelings easily. She enjoys comic books, re-reading beloved stories and silently fangirling over Gambit.

Likes: Comic books, Nuka Cola, Fighting, Guns, Doodling, Music, Whiskey, Beer, Baseball, Stuffed Animals, Reading, Learning about the Pre-War world, Dancing, Exploring

Dislikes: Cigarette smoke, Roach meat, Her Vault 101 job(fry cook), Deathclaws, Dresses, The Enclave,

Fears/phobias: Being alone, losing her friends.

Favourite colour: Blue.

Hobbies: Doodling, Collecting comic books, Fixing things.

Taste in music: Rock n Roll, 50s Pop.

SKILLS

Talents/skills: Repairing things, Figuring how to make stuff work(aka high Repair skill XD), Good with guns, Hand-to-hand combat,

Ability to drive a car? Operate any other vehicles? Nope and nope.

EATING HABITS

Omnivore/Carnivore/Herbivore: Omnivore

Favourite food(s): Brahmin steak, Fresh fruit, Eggs.

Favourite drink(s): Nuka Cola, Sunset Sarsaparilla.

Disliked food: Mole Rat meat, Dog meat(refuses to try it).

Disliked drinks: Moonshine (it kicks her ass), Wine.

HOUSE AND HOME

Describe the character's house/home: Megaton house is decorated with the Pre-war theme. Special additions include a Grognak poster, and others recovered from the Hubris place. Some guns recovered along the way are hung on the walls, and books and pre-war toys are stuck where ever there is space atop things. The Jukebox is rarely turned off. In New Vegas, she doesn't have a permanent home, yet (the Lucky 38 isn't hers.. yet XD)

Significant/special belongings: Her Comic books, though some are bittersweet reminders of lost friendships and her Dad. Her Photograph collection is the same. Her baseball, glove and bat are reminders of one of her favorite Vault activities. The Abe action figure, because it's damn cool.

CAREER

Level of education: Vault equivalent of High School.

Qualifications: Repairing certain types of machinery, Pip-boys, and guns.

Current job title and description: Mercenary/Scavenger. Courier(Yeah, that went well XD).

Name of employer: Whoever offers a suitable job, though she does end up working with Reilly's Rangers for a few years, after the events of the main quest.

COMBAT

Peaceful or aggressive attitude? Aggressive. However, she won't kill a foe unless they're carrying a gun, and can potentially kill her before she can get to them.

Fighting skills/techniques: Good with punches and kicks. Her aim with a gun is pretty good, too. In situations that call for either life or death, she will snipe as many as she can.

Special skills/magical powers/etc: N/A

Weapon of choice (if any): Scoped rifle or 10mm, Grenades, Baseball Bat.

Weaknesses in combat: She is clumsy with most melee-type weapons and blocking hits, and can become overconfident. Certain now-healed injuries still give her trouble, and can cripple her if they receive a good hit.

Strengths in combat: She's quick and can hold her own against most male foes. She also knows where to punch to best disable a foe, but will rarely resort to crotch kicks.

FAMILY, FRIENDS AND FOES

Parents names: James and Catharine.

Are parents alive or dead? Both are deceased.

Is the character still in contact with their parents? If they weren't dead, she would be.

Siblings? Relationship with siblings? No official ones.

Other Important Relatives: Lucy Palmer and Herman Gomez. They may not have been officially related, but Lucy was like a grandmother figure, and Herman was something of an uncle.

Partner: Knives

Children: None.

Best Friend: Baraka, Amata, until she banned Kayla from the Vault. Butch is her new BFF.

Other Important Friends: Charon, Julian, Baraka, Veronica, Cass, Andrés, Reilly and the Rangers, Sarah Lyons, Freddie, Beetle, Knives

Acquaintances: Many.

Pets: Sparky, the Radroach. Dogmeat & Rex.

Enemies? Why are they enemies? Colonel Autumn - for his interference in Project Purity, and being the cause for James to sacrifice himself. Benny - he shot her in the head >:I.

Backstory: This is the part I suck at, so I'll add it later, maybe XD.
I finally did one of these! Although this is kind of incomplete. I know there's things I missed, and I need to write a bio x.x

The image is a screenshot(picture of the tv actually) I added bangs and other details to. I cleaned it up a little, as well.

The blank sheet is by =TtotheAFFY and can be found here: [link]
Dimitri belongs to A. Crowe.
Andrés belongs to !GlitteryJizz
Beetle belongs to =Jathis
Knives belongs to ~dr-glitzkrieg

Edit #2: If you got here from my rp account, note that a lot of things on this profile no longer apply to that Dimi. I'm linking this mostly for stats and the picture XD.
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Religious Powers Atheism, ending song~

I was pretty bored, so I felt like making this.
(To the tune of 'Marukaite Chikyuu', the Axis Powers Hetalia ending song)
---

Hey, hey people, look at the sky~!
What do you see? What do you see?
A thousand gods, or maybe one?
Or maybe you just see me!

The birds in the sky, the fish in the sea~!
Did you make those? Or was that me?
The birds in the sky, the fish in the sea~!
I'm Atheism~!

The birds in the sky, the fish in the sea~!
I'm sure you made those...no wait, was it me?
Maybe it was something higher than we?
I'm Atheism~!

Oh~! Life's beginning,
no one really knows how it happened~!
Maybe one day...we can all co-ex-ist~!
I'm Atheism~!!

Ah~ah! Scientology! Please...stop dressing like me!

The birds in the sky, the fish in the sea~!
Did you make those, or was that me?
The birds in the sky, the fish in the sea~!
I'm Atheism~!!


The birds in the sky, the fish in the sea~!
I'm sure you made those...no wait, was it me?
Maybe it was something higher than we?
I'm Atheism~!


Oh~! Life's beginning,
no one really knows how it happened~!
Ohh-Ohh, Ahh-Ahh! *Monkey sounds*
Maybe one day...we can all co-ex-ist~!
I'm Atheism~!!

Hey hey people, wanna know the truth?
Well according to my calculations...HEY! DON'T IGNORE ME!
Hey hey people, I respect your beliefs!
Hey hey Christianity, (please leave me alone now!)
Hey hey people, look at the stars!
What do you see? What do you see?
A thousand gods, or just one?


SCIENCE~! DARWIN~! EVOLUTION~!

Atheism~! Atheism~!

God bless the human mind~!

*music break, Atheist's music sounds like the sounds of a science lab. (Electric sparks, test tubes clinking, monkey sounds, machines beeping, ect.)*

The birds in the sky, the fish in the sea~!
Did you make those, or was that me?
The birds in the sky, the fish in the sea~!
I'm Atheism~!!

Oh~! Life's beginning,
no one really knows how it happened~!
Maybe one day...we can all co-ex-ist~!
I'm Atheism~!!

Oh~! Life's beginning,
I think I might know how it happened~!
Maybe one day...we can all co-ex-ist~!
I'm Atheism~!!

END
:iconcartoonchick123:
Religious Powers Atheism is a spin off of Axis Powers Hetalia that I made up one day when I was bored in math class.

I figured I make a song to it, so I did~!

EDIT: ok, I now made it Atheism's official theme song~! (In axis powers hetalia, all the characters sing the ending song in a different way that is unique to them)

Eventually, Ill do all the MAIN characters, so keep on the look out for them~!

(main characters include Christianity, Scientology, Muslim, Buddhist, Agnostic, and Judaism)
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Religion: The poison in your ear?

On May 1st 2007, the late Christopher Hitchens released the book "God is not great: How religion poisons everything". Judging by his writings, the title was not just a sensationalist attempt at increasing sales, but the genuine sentiment of its author. Having immersed myself in the subject of religion contra reality, the influence it has, I lean towards Hitchens' side- religion appears harmful to me, doing more ill than good to society at large.

Religion is, in the world at large, probably the greatest yoke any country, civilization or ethnicity faces when trying to progress, to move forwards. It creates division, isolation between groups, inspires hate where there would be none before. Religion narrows the mind. It creates division, clouds judgment and endorses intolerance. To quote Richard Dawkins: "I oppose religion... because it teaches people to be satisfied with an incomplete explanation of how the world works."
In March 2009, Pope Benedict XVI announced at his visit in Africa that condoms make worse the AIDS problem. This statement highlights the magnitude of harm religion can cause. Pope Benedict XVI's words represent perfectly the destructive power irrational belief, superstition has. Simply because the Catholic Church considers semen holy, the Africans must suffer.

Or, to further my point on religiously inspired xenophobia, let us view the gaping sore that is Palestine. For generations now Jew has fought Arab and Arab has fought Jew, because both are convinced god promised them this land. At this point, Yahweh seems to have given no favour to either side- imagine how much easier the process of integration would have been if not for the mullahs and rabbis preaching their alleged absolute right to this land, as mandated by an unseen god.

The number of religiously inspired zealots who would go so far as to harm or kill you for the sake of their beliefs thankfully represents a negligible portion of the religious populations of the world. The dangers of religion are far more subtle, far more sinister. I would refer here to what may be the most immediate threat in terms of religious follies: creationism, and more specifically the attempts its adherents make to teach their unsubstantiated beliefs as scientific. Originally a phenomenon best known from the southern states of the USA, the creationist movement is active and alive, and insidiously snaking its way through Europe as well. Though they thankfully represent a vocal- if obnoxious- minority, the fact that they have any impact at all is worrying. Hiding behind the pretext of religious freedom, they wish to impose on the susceptible minds of the youth superstition as science. They reject the scientific theory of evolution, which is based on mountains of evidence, in favour of "Intelligent Design", based explicitly on the unfalsifiable idea of a creator. "Teach the controversy" is a common slogan. In my opinion, this is absurd- there is no controversy in the scientific community regarding evolution. The overwhelming majority of the scientific community adheres to the theory of evolution. The science classroom deals with science- the creationists can bring in only matters of faith. Whether god is real or not is irrelevant in such a context as that of a science classroom- only the tangible, the falsifiable is dealt with there. We did not advance to the point where we can send satellites into space by looking at the unexplained, going "god did it".

Religious people is by many said to bring comfort, that churches raise money for the poor. What of the many charities the churches boast, the money it raises for the poor? What of the sense of security it brings to those miserable and unsatisfied with their lives? Why would anybody wish them robbed of this? Commonly, the theists argue that without god, there is no greater purpose, no point to living or being alive. Further, the theistic apologists like to endorse the idea that somehow belief makes man more moral, more inclined to charity and kindness. Some even postulate that a lack of religious guidance leads to disaster- a common argument is that Stalin, Mao and Pol Pot were the heads of atheistic regimes that their lack of belief led to the atrocities committed.
These are interesting questions, and some of them may have some merit- but at a closer glance, I would say that this amounts to an appeal to emotion rather than a question of fact.

If we first address comfort: yes, the belief in a god can cause a very real feeling of well-being, happiness, even euphoria. Believing can make you happy. So can a security blanket. The reality of the joy you might experience does not make the ideas endorsed any more or less true. In the words of Bertrand Russel, "The fact that a believer is happier than an unbeliever is no more to the point than a drunken man being happier than a sober one".

The happiness, though real, ceases to be harmless once it causes people to judge others for not adhering to ones own personal beliefs. This is where religion creates division- by claiming it has all the answer, the perfect answers, that all other answers are inferior; that all who disagree are therefore morally inferior or simply corrupt.
What about charity, then? The various churches are responsible for much good- but this is not unique to the churches at all, nor do I need to be guilted into donating money by some god. I could just as easily donate to a secular charity. The church, with the tithes it gathers from its many believers worldwide, certainly has the resources. The humanitarian effort is just that- humanitarian. All religions, all people have an urge to help; it is an instinct. No church is required.

What about the idea of life being meaningful only with the idea of a god in it? This argument falls on its own arrogance- evidently, the atheist can live an equally fulfilled, satisfied life without even a hint of belief in the juju at the mountain. This can be, and has been tested. Perhaps the religious need a god to make their lives meaningful; to claim this is universal fails on logical grounds.

What about morality? This is possibly the most self-important argument the theistic side has to offer. If morality is derived only out of fear of being denied eternal bliss, then it is not really morality to begin with. We, as human beings, do right because it is right, not because we are afraid of what will happen if we do not.

In conclusion, I would like to assert that religion, though having some fine points- it is deeply linked to all of our cultures, responsible for much charity- does more harm than it does good. It provides comfort, but it also creates division, retards scientific progress, incites xenophobia and gets privileges for superstitions it cannot prove. I do not deny people the right to believe- indeed, religion will last as long as there are humans left to believe. However, religion must be kept private. It must never be given special treatment or allowances where other interests would not, and it should never be allowed a say in politics or education.
I was asked to write an essay for my university course in English; I chose to write on religion.

If you're religious, and this offends you, know that I don't care. At all. If you would like to discuss this though, I am all ears.
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I know painters paint it, composers play it, actors can act it...but what can writer's do?

Well, we can tell it in a story, we can convey it in a play, we can sing it in lyrics, and we can illustrate it in poems.

But, for the moment I am not a painter, a composer, an actor, or a writer...but I can explain it the only way I know how...

Love is:
Frustratingly magnificent while also terribly unique.
Confusing and intriguing, and can also leave you weak.
Menacingly wonderful if not also specially designed,
All emotions put together, but right now they are all mine.
Rivaling with a person whom I've never seen before,
knowing that no matter what; I will always love him more.
Daunting and perilous, but sweet and caring too,
A feeling of elation when it means so much to you.
A dance
A song
A rhythm in rhyme.
A feeling that can and will always transcend time.
The moment of that passing glance;
The crazy feeling of being lost in a trance....
The daydream of the soul's song,
The triumph and the elation, when other's think it's wrong.
The counterpoint,
the notes you sing
That one important idyllic dream.
That sickening feeling of despair.
As if you wonder why it was ever there.
The anger and the hate;
So overpowering it's hard to contemplate.
That moment of desire.
A stage in which your soul's on fire.
The pivotal turn.
The point in which your heart will burn.
The chance you have for your spirit to be sold.
Wanting only to have him to hold.
The night in which your conscious cries
Impossible tears that you despise.
That ache of knowing that he's not there,
A feeling that he can't be found anywhere.
Believing, that, with all your might.
Seeing him in your dreams that night.
Sometimes more than you could ever say,
certainly more than this little poem could every convey...
Love is....
Number two in the 100 Pieces of Writing Challenge...

*Dances* G'wa...just take a flying guess on who my muse was for this....

Yes...I was giddy...blame the extremely fluffy sequence I'm writing....
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Deadpool Facts:

In Pamplona, Spain, the people may be running from bulls, but the bulls are only chasing them because Deadpool put red dye in all of their shampoos this morning.

Deadpool sleeps on an adamantium bed because titanium was just too soft.

Crop circles are Deadpool’s way of freaking conspiracy nuts out.

Deadpool is over six feet tall, weighs two hundred twenty pounds, and can tell Wolverine to fuck off while patting the top of his head and rubbing his stomach.

They built the Great Wall of China to tell Deadpool that he wasn’t welcome there. He didn’t take the hint.

Contrary to popular belief, Deadpool, not the box jellyfish of northern Australia, is the most venomous creature on earth. Within 3 minutes of being bitten, a human being experiences the following symptoms: bloating, constipation, and the strange feeling that they have just been on a late night talk show, and the host just didn’t know when to shut up.

If he you ask Deadpool what time it is, he’ll laugh at you.

Deadpool drives an ice cream truck with a machine gun on top.

When Deadpool sends in his taxes, he sends a box. This box contains an armed explosive that will detonate in ten seconds after they open the box. Like Deadpool would ever pay taxes.

Deadpool can win a game of connect four in one move, because he cheats.

There is no theory of evolution. Just a list of living creatures that Deadpool forgot to kill.

Deadpool once at a 72 oz. bag of cheese puffs in one hour. He spent the first forty-five minutes having sex with the girl behind the counter ON the counter.

Deadpool doesn’t churn butter. He tells Spider-Man to do it by saying that “it’s the right thing to do.”

Deadpool doesn’t wash his clothes. He makes Weasel do it by saying “if you don’t, I’ll kill you.”

If you spell “Deadpool” in Scramble, you get that creepy feeling that someone is watching you.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool Deadpool once, and he’ll kick you in the crotch. If you’re lucky.

Deadpool has two speeds: Talk and Kill.

Once someone asked Deadpool what was on his mind. Historians have recorded this as the worst mistake anyone has ever made.

Everyone has to die once. Unless your Deadpool, then you have to die five times at least.

Deadpool doesn’t take showers, and he only baths if Bea Arthur and wine are involved.

In an average living room there are 1,242 objects Deadpool could use to kill you, including the room itself. Fortunately, no one has told Deadpool this.

Deadpool has to re-grow 2,000 body parts a year. If it’s a slow year.

Deadpool has a recording of himself talking for two hours. He sold it to the interrogation squads of most major militaries for a hefty profit.

Deadpool DOESN’T believe it’s not butter.

A picture is worth a thousand words. Deadpool is worth one billion. Too bad none of them are worth anything.

When Deadpool talks, nobody listens. They die.

Deadpool knows the exact location of Carmen SanDiego, and will sell the information to the highest bidder.

When taking the SAT, write “Deadpool” for every answer. You’ll fail.

Deadpool invented black. In fact, he invented the whole spectrum of colors. Except for pink. Wolverine invented pink.

Chuck Norris and Deadpool walked into a bar. The bar was instantly destroyed, as that much awesome cannot be contained in one building.

Deadpool doesn’t believe in the X-Men.

Some people wear Spider-Man pajamas. Spider-Man wears Deadpool pajamas.

I don’t own Deadpool, but if I did, three years from now if I asked you who Spider-Man was, you’d say “Spider-Who?”

Deadpool was once hired by a school to give a speech about why kids shouldn’t drop out of school. When he got on stage, he talked about the positive effects of pornography in today’s society and the different variations of yellow and orange you might find on both rubber duckies and dildos. Then he remembered why he was there, took his mask off, pointed to his face, and said, “This is why you should stay in school, you damned punks.”

No one who heard this message even thought about dropping out of school ever again.

When Deadpool goes to McDonald’s, he orders sushi. When they say they can’t give him any, he gives them more than their daily-recommended dose of bullets. When Deadpool wants raw fish wrapped in seaweed, he gets it, or else.

Deadpool doesn’t sleep- he procrastinates.

Deadpool makes Apple pay him 99 cents every minute he allows them to live.

If you have five dollars and Deadpool has five dollars, he’ll steal your five dollars so that he has more money than you.

There is no ‘Ctrl’ button on Deadpool’s computer. He ate it.

Some people can kill two birds with one stone, but Deadpool can kill twenty penguins with one shot.

Deadpool doesn’t have blood. He is filled with bullshit.

Deadpool doesn’t melt in your mouth or in your hand. Unless you happen to be Beatrice Arthur.

Deadpool is like a dog: He gets mud all over the carpet, annoys the neighbors, humps your leg and pisses where ever he wants to.

Proponents of higher-order theories of consciousness argue that the relation between two levels of mental states in which a higher-order mental state takes another mental state explains consciousness. If you tell this to Deadpool, he’ll shoot you for no reason at all.

Life is not, in fact, like a box of chocolates. It is more like a box of Deadpool. You may not know what you’re going to get, but you know it will be painful, and you’ll laugh anyway.

Everything King Midas touches turns to gold. Everything Deadpool touches goes insane and dies in a suicidal rage.

Deadpool wipes his ass with Cyclops’ secret stash of pornographic magazines.

They where going to release a Deadpool addition of clue, but the answer always turned out to be “Deadpool. In the library. With a knock-knock joke.

When Spider-Man read Deadpool’s original series, he cried himself to sleep. The next day he went out as Peter Parker to burn as many of them as he could find, for fear that Deadpool would become more popular than Spider-Man. This is why they are so hard to find.
These are bunch of Deadpool Facts I originally posted on Fanfiction.net. They were a big hit, so I thought I'd bring them here.

They are modeled after Chuck Norris facts, but I've given most of them my only little special twist. I'm thinking about doing some more if I can find the time.
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I love the way your eyes always shine,
I love the way you wont let go,
I love the way you tell me you're mine,
I love the way it's easy to show,
That most of all, I just love you.

It's true, I love every inch of you,
I'll love you when it's hard to sleep,
When my thoughts are shades of blue,
I'll love you even when the blue skies weep,
And our garden burns around us.

I dont know what I would ever do,
If I made you ever cry,
I never want to ever hurt you,
I dont want this to ever die,
And I dont want you to ever frown.

I'm so weak when I am with you,
One look and your eyes paralyze,
I'm no one else when I'm around you,
I dont need a masking false disguise,
Because I trust you most of all.

Red and pink and white lined tradition,
Symbolize the greatest emotion,
Valentine's day is but a transition,
Another good way to show my devotion,
To you and us and even the blue,
Anything as long as It is with you.
i guess valentines day got me in the mood or something to write a love poem...

man its not even about any one...i just kinda started rhyming...

thats sad...i write love poems when i dont even love anyone...
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I hate having to speak to you
But I hate when you ignore

I hate when you don't return my emails
And I hate when you don't call

I hate the way you avoid my eyes
When I'm trying to look into yours

And I hate what you say behind my back
And all the trouble that you cause

I hate the dot to dot acne just above your nose
And I hate your nearly-a-monobrow too

I hate the way you're so selfish
And how it always has to be about you

But mostly I hate that none of this is true
And the fact that I hate myself
For not being to hate you
My friend Angelie is extremely lazy and cannot be bothered to write her own poem, and me, in my charitable state, decided to help her out. Actually, I didnt pay much attention to what had to be done, so if this is wrong: write your own!

I wanted to write something like this anyway- its sposed to be like the 10 Things I Hate About You one, although, I realise, that this can never be replaced. :)
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Face to face to face to face
I whispered, said, prayed, vomited the future
Our long-lost friend comes crawling home
Then another
And baby makes Legion

We can walk past the pillars of ancestral bloat
Toss the offerings over our shoulders
We can flee the morning forever as long as the hunt continues

Lebab fo rewot
Dliuber, dliub
Noitadnuof eht ni doolb

What is a saint but a nightmare?
Venomous reality resurrected and given shape
Given scars
Given shade
Given weapons
Given reflection
Given unto all

Ohcirej fo sllaw
Dliuber, dliub
Ratrom eht in nis

You
Might
Even
Hear
Praises
Sung
After
Leaving
Babylon

I turn the devil on his head
"Satan is by far the kindest guest"
When everyone at the table wants our brains splattered on their own particular pavement
He can become intoxicated just like the rest of us
Drinking souls and souls and fermented souls

I wait in the antechamber for the body to be christened
A new vessel to a new below
Let us ride with the fuller moon of the two (?)

Arehsa fo selop
Dliuber, dliub
Tniap eht ni msidas

Triple-headed hydra of Heaven
Sing to the one you were too late to save
Make him (a deal)
Mold him (a helmet)
Fill him (with fire)
Send him (to the West, to reign)
He staggers
He stumbles
He falls
He rights himself again

Laab fo eutats
Niaga ezar, ezar
Truth in the death
Free Lazarus!
10/31/09

I wroted a Halloween poem this yeer! Originally posted at VampireFreaks, but what the heck?

Wacko inspiration I got this morning.

God made zombies, too. That's basically all this is about. Take it further if you want. I did, but... what's the fun in explaining everything in graphic detail?

...

But yeah, God made zombies, too.

No further comment at this time.

Quoted lyric © Christian Death
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    My friend Friday spends Tuesday afternoons looking for things that no one else can find. These things are small and blend with the everyday so suitably, that they elude most of us, even after our morning coffee or cigarette. But invariably Friday finds them with ease, and sets them upon my doorstep every Wednesday morning, pawing at my breakfast with his fresh wonders.
    “I saw a boy die yesterday!” He howls, the door slamming behind him. He is not in the same room as I; he is yelling this across my house at 5:30am, eliciting angry grumbles from my somber roommates. Sending the saloons doors clacking and banging, he gushes into our kitchen and tosses a mangled G.I. Joe on the table in front of me. “The boy was in the car in front of me. I was driving to work, laughing at NPR, as ya do, and there in front of me, a man was flying, this man!” He grins, snatching the disable veteran off the table and waving it in front of me, too close to my nose for this hour. I shook my head and shrunk back into my chair, holding up my Irish coffee in front of me in warding gesture. “Too early, Friday.”
    “Exactly. Precisely!” He said, tossing the poor little man down on the table again. “This little man was flying! The boy had him out the window, swooping him up and down and side to side with irreverent joy; nevermind the traffic, nevermind his mother badgering him to ‘pull that arm back in before you loose it to some Gypsy Jew’, she said that Maggie, she really did. Can you believe it?”
    “Yes.”
    Friday frowned. It was uncustomary and it looked painful on him. After a moment, I was a little ashamed. So I sighed. “So what then? He dropped it, I assume.”
    “I’m getting there, Mags, I’m getting there,” he said, faith and fervor restored. As he spoke he puttered around my kitchen; fridge to sink to fridge to coffee pot. “I was watching because the boy remind me, of me, or me at that tender age during which all children are destined, sadly, to die. Anyways, his whore mother reaches back to grab his arm, presumably to pull it in, but in the process his little wrist hits just so on the half-erect window. See, it hit that pressure point that cops use to disarm badguys, so his eyes go wide and his little hand pops open.”
    He stops, takes a sip of his pilfered coffee, a dramatic pause.
    “It was at this point, Maggie, that the boy died.”
    I waited for an explanation. The G.I. Joe waited for an explanation. The withering ferns on my kitchen window waited. And Friday watched all of us wait for an explanation, choosing to fill the time by examining the neckline of my bathrobe. As I caught his eyes, exasperated, he grinned. “I don’t know how to say this, Maggie dear, but I can see your tits.” I looked down and found that there were indeed tits to be seen. As I covered myself, I noticed Friday filing that sight away for later.  
    Another wonder.
    “So, Friday, what does all this mean?” I said, a little harshly. I had two trains and another coffee to catch.
    Friday shook his head. “Do you not realize, Mags, what happened? That little boy, I saw the light leave him. The joy of childhood, gone, all for some daycare dumping whore’s attention to limb care. It’s awful. Really.” Friday said this, all the while his eyes were darting again and again from some innocuous sightline back to my robe. “That is awful, Friday. My condolences to the boy.”
Friday didn’t hear me though. He had the mangled toy in between his thumb and forefinger, holding him up at eye level. I can’t explain it, condone it, or relate it properly, but it looked like Friday was about to cry. “Nothing sacred in this war, friend,” he said to the road mangled beard and eyes. “That kid might as well grab a tie and get off with mommy at the local corporate graveyard for the dead heart piggies.”
    Friday likes to pretend he’s a communist. He’s not a communist. He’s fond of vodka and he’s loud and he’s reasonably well read, but he still chases green just like the rest of us. He’s convinced that communists get laid twice as often as the rest of us.
    “You do know capitalist pigs have sex something like half as much as we comrades do. And with fifty percent fewer partners.”
    See.
    “I’m going to be late for the bourgeoisie trough, comrade,” I said. I put my cup in the sink and filled it half full with warm water. When I turned, Friday was a few inches in front of my face. “But, I also watched a man live yesterday, Mags.” His breath smelled like my harsh coffee. And precisely flavored tobacco. Friday and I kissed each other when I was in college and he was pretending to be. We had sex one very sober night a year later. Since then I have tried to keep him at least 16 inches away from my lower half at all times, but not because of him. Because of me.
    “I watched a man live, Maggie May,” he repeated, pulling me back to my chair, and then sitting down adjacent to me. “He walked up, all slick and wet from the sweat of the midday crunch out to lunch. He was a little pudgy, but it looked like he was workin on it. For someone else I think. Anyways, I may have added that later. But yes. He asked me for a pack of Red Apples, and paid exactly the amount I asked him for.” Friday works at a cigarette and magazine stand at 13th and Ash, something that suits his attention span and habits well. I met him at that stand, buying my freshman favorite: Djarum Black Clove Cigarettes. Six years.
    “I used to love Red Apples, I said to him, ya know, tryin to pass the moment. And he smiled. ‘Me too,’ he said, lookin a little sad all the sudden. But in a flash, the guy smiled again, and without blinking, chucked the brand new, shiny pack of Red Apples I had just handed him into the little bin beside my stand. And then he started whistling. He walked away as I stared at him. He was whistling, Mags.”   
    Friday was looking into my eyes with the same reverence and wonder that I have seen in the eyes of the dying, the free, and the newly in love.
    I wasn’t surprised that I was smiling back at him. A little smile. The same little smile that Friday always gives me every Wednesday morning, after my coffee but before my cigarette.
    We each smoked a Red Apple from the pack that Friday had fished out of the trash bin. And as Friday lit my cigarette, I let my hip bump into his and he laughed, all light and no shadows. I tasted the poison fruit of my kind, and smiled at what Friday had brought to me, all pawing and pure and proud.
The first of many faces i have seen.

Much love to gnomes13 for her deviation titled, appropriately enough, "my friend friday".

For the sake of my own guilt, I'll say that this is no judgement on the actual Friday, if that is his name. Just a little frolic, fed from a look, captured by a stranger.

Enjoy.

PS: I just read it again. It seems to not want to make up its mind what tense its in. help? present or past? I've tried both, and only a mixture makes me feel like it's really him talking. Eh. Help?



The work contained in my gallery is Copyright. ©2007 James Ivy.

All rights reserved. My work may not be reproduced, copied, edited, published, transmitted or uploaded in any way without my written permission. My work does not belong to the public domain.
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The forest. What a wonderful place, surrounded by nature and animals, the forest sure is perfect for the type of person that wants to be alone. In the forest, there is a home, far away from the crowded, busy cities of The United Kingdom. Arthur Kirkland returns from another busy day.

*Krreeek*. The high pitched sound echoed throughout the home, as he pushed the front door open. Moonlight and the cool night air pushed its way through the doorway. "Agh. Another busy day." he said as he entered the house and quickly closed the green colored door behind him.

All his days were busy; he was a country after all. He was England. The country once ruled by dear Queen Elizabeth. The queen was very kind, but had strength like no other. Tragically, his queen died, which meant it was his job to take care of his people. They need protection, entertainment, medicine, and anything else. If he couldn't somehow create what they wanted, he had it ordered from other countries, like Chinese food, Japanese comics, or Disney musicals, stuff that he himself wasn't very fond of. England would do anything for his people.  Even if it meant he had cooperate with other countries.

"Hgh. Days just seem to be getting tougher and tougher." He said as he began walking up the stairs in the dark. Eager to get some sleep, England began to take off his clothes as he walked up the large staircase. Although he lived in the woods, that didn't mean he didn't like fancy things, like enormous staircases. By the time England reached the top of the staircase his top half was bare. His green jacket and white shirt lay on the stairs in silence.

England took two steps away from the staircase and was in front of his door. His room was right near the staircase. Why? Well that because there was only one room. England, although he loved his people, he really enjoyed being alone. He was able to live comfortably in his house in the woods. He could talk to all his magical friends, without being called crazy. But today, his friends were no where to be seen, probably because they knew he has been going through a lot lately. England opened the door to his room. His room was large; it had three bookshelves lined up next to each other against a wall, his bed, and huge pictures of his favorite places and things around the world, like the Great Wall of China, the Eiffel Tower, and Mount Fuji. England admired his strengths, but he also loved the strength that his fellow countries had within themselves.

"Finally, time for bed" he said as he took off his leather boots and jumped onto his bed. Not even bothering to get under the covers. "God, give me the strength to defeat my enemies and take care of my people, just as my dear queen had." As England finished his prayer, he laid in his bed in silence. For some strange reason, he began to think about life. 'What is the meaning of life?' He paused, thinking about the question he asked himself. "To follow your dreams? Gather knowledge on the Earth? Fall in love?" Realizing what he said, England grew silent, and stared up at the ceiling. "Hhm. What am I saying? I'm a country. So it's my job to protect my people...... nothing more." With those words floating around his head, England fell asleep.
This is a FrUK story that a wrote about 2 months ago. I've never really had the time to put it up until now, and it took me forever to fix my spelling errors.
I didn't want to put it in parts, I kinda just wanted to make the entire story one deviation....... but I think if people saw how long it is, they might not even try reading it. And I guess when stories are in parts its a little easier to understand. I'm already finished with the story...... so I guess ill put up a new part every day. ^^

This is my first France and England fan fiction, so i'm crossing my fingers that you'll like it ^^
Oh and yes, the story is a little bit more from England's point of view. :3
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Please don't hesitate to ask any questions!
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