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100: Dead GirlsHe was going to kill her. He knew he could. Every time he closed his eyes he'd imagine it, and it always felt so right. Her pretty throat in his grip, her legs kicking as he looked right into her bright eyes.100: Dead Girls
She deserved it.
Yes, she did. Every provocative look. Every time she'd cross and uncross her long legs, slowly and gracefully. Every absent-minded grin she'd flashed. Every time she'd turned him down.
All punishable offenses, of course.
But no...he really couldn't. He'd win her over at some point, he knew it.
And dead girls make terrible dance partners.
by ~slightlyunappealing
100: Denial WorksThis was her fourth glass of wine.100: Denial Works
Or was it her fifth?
She had trouble counting them after a while, as those numbers interfered with the other ones she was trying to keep track of.
Namely the number of times she had called him, the number of times he hadn't answered, and the hours since she had spoken to him.
She glanced at the clock one more time, then dialed his number. No answer, just his voice telling her to leave a message.
To think, three hours ago she had been at his funeral.
He looked so alive in his casket.
by ~slightlyunappealing
100: Everybody's BabyShe was considering learning how to draw on a smile.100: Everybody's Baby
She'd paint her face and tease her hair. She'd stay out until dawn. She'd let her skirts keep getting shorter and let her necklines plunge lower. She'd learn to roll her eyes and giggle and bite her lip.
She'd be the girl your mother warned you about, and the one your father can’t help but stare at when she sits on your kitchen counter.
She'd surrender to every passing man who offered her a smile or a cigarette.
She'd not give him a second glance. Perhaps then he'd notice her.
by ~slightlyunappealing
100: South of the BorderThe windows thrown open, the slight breeze whispers through the curtains and makes the thin white fabric quiver. They lay beside each other upon the bed’s messy sheets, sweat beading and falling from every pore.100: South of the Border
He turns to her and slides down the strap of her shirt, leaning in to kiss the soft sun-burned skin of her shoulder. White blossoms amid the pink flesh in the shape of his lips, then fades back into the rosiness of her burn.
A lazy record player stutters out forgotten melodies, which fill the room and float out into the sweltering, cloudless summer sky.
by ~slightlyunappealing
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Dear John Darnielle,
ObsesseddeviantID
Devious Info
- Current Residence: Arizona.
- Interests: Reading, writing, and other cliche things.
- Favourite movie: Harold&Maude.
- Favourite band or musician: The Mountain Goats.
- Favourite poet or writer: Dorothy Parker.
- Personal Quote: I do what I can.
- Website: http://cheimatophobia.livejournal.com
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Vote for "Solo!" I would really appreciate it!!! :]
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“If everyone demanded peace instead of another television set, then there'd be peace."
-John Lennon
--
"Death Row, Next In Line Speaking.."
-Spongbob
~*~*~*~
What the hell much?
~*~*~*~*~*~
~*~*Sora wuz here.*~*~
--
"Death Row, Next In Line Speaking.."
-Spongbob
~*~*~*~
What the hell much?
~*~*~*~*~*~
~*~*Sora wuz here.*~*~
--
M’thinks the loidy doth protest a wee too much. Admit it, ye be intreagued by a loife o’ the high seas. Plunderin’ Lootin’ Retirin t’ the galley for a huge bowl of pasta, all t’ do it again tommoree…
-StJason on venganza.org (FSM website)
Interesting gallery you have
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Age is just a number. Like prison terms.
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degrees-of-love [link]
Fortheloveofwords [link]
RawEMOtion [link]
From childhoods hour
I have not been as others were,
I have not seen as others saw
--
“If everyone demanded peace instead of another television set, then there'd be peace."
-John Lennon
Sneaky, sneaky...
I wanna be a clay person SO EFFING BAD, now.
--
Age is just a number. Like prison terms.
--
“If everyone demanded peace instead of another television set, then there'd be peace."
-John Lennon
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