I don't label myself, I consider them to be more like character traits, quirks and other random attributes that make me me.
I only like heat when I'm in a sauna. Otherwise I'm oversensitive to it, I get a heatstroke way too easy...
I was wondering if I'm allowed to post the entry in a separate thread and give a link here (I'd kinda like to get feedback on it...), or do I just post it here? (Will edit this post accordingly when I get an answer.) EDIT: Here it is! Title: Holiday in the Ardennes Rating: PG-13? Warnings: Some violence in detail, death, one mention of sex (well, two if you count the warning itself >.<) Spoiler He tries closing his eyes, but the flashing doesn’t stop. He clamps his frozen hands over his ears, but the high-pitched whine followed by a loud ear-shattering boom still pierces through his senses. He wants to huddle next to his friend in their foxhole, but he knows no-ones there, and hasn’t been there for what feels like months, days, seconds, years and hours all at the same time. Where he is time doesn’t matter anymore. His world is dominated by the cold, the yells for cover and medics, shivering, eating cold food that doesn’t feed, sleeping without receiving any rest, and that God forsaken whine followed by the nightmarish boom. The short lull of calm in the middle of the shelling just makes things worse. He knows that it’s bound to start again in a matter of minutes (Hours? Weeks? Seconds?), but his heart keeps whispering to him, “Maybe this time will be different, maybe this time they’ve really stopped,” and he begins to feel relief sagging his shoulders, he raises his head out of the foxhole, pushing the fallen branch off of him, listening to the frantic screams for a medic and commands to stay down. He stands there, looking around in a daze as others get up, either to help the wounded or mirror his own confusion. As time passes less men are pulled back into their makeshift shelter, and even the most skeptic poke their heads up to assess the situation. He has managed to convince himself that it’s all over right in time for a sharp, yelled, “Incoming!” to break his mind yet again, and he falls back into the foxhole, not sure if he was pushed or if his reflexes have become so automatic that a simple word can override the dullness of his mind. He stares at the place his comrade (his friend, his brother, his world) used to inhabit, and he wants to remember their joint laughter. Their stories of home, boot camp, women, and everything they could ever think of told through shivering lips. The tiny bit of heat radiating from their bodies as they held on tightly at night. Their determined looks when they swore that the war would never get to them (now look where they were). The way the shrapnel had torn through the chest of his friend, so quickly (thank God it was so quick) ending a life that had used to bring so much joy to the people around him that the entire company was reduced to a state of unspoken numbness at his loss. He wants to remember so much, but the shelling will not, can not, allow it. He wants to remember his family, his father’s booming laugh and the way he always made him feel like he had his fathers support. He wants to remember his mother’s warm smile and eyes, and the way he held him so gently, yet so tight as he was getting ready to board the train taking him away to boot camp. He wants to remember his brother’s and sister’s playful bickering, and the way they’d looked at him deep in the eye, and made him vow to come back home safely. He wanted to remember his fiancée’s look of pure love, the way she… well everything about her. Her beautiful face, the way she could calm him down simply by being there, the way she’d try to cover her mouth when she laughed (he cherished the few seconds of extra contact he got when he pried her hand away gently), the way she’d quickly tuck her hair behind her ear whenever she was flustered, the way she felt and looked whenever they made love. How she’d fought back her tears when she told him that he had joined the Parachute Infantry right after December 7th, and how she had let those tears fall free when he had proposed to her an hour later. The way she had held his face tenderly, and told him to do whatever he must, before kissing him deeply, saying “Goodbye,” and “I love you,” quite possibly for the last time, before walking away with just one glance to spare, leaving him alone on his family’s front porch. None of those thoughts cross his mind as the shelling continues, still as relentless as ever. His mind knows nothing but that flash and boom, the short pause that gave just enough time for the wounded to call loud enough that their screams would always be heard in their comrade’s dreams, and then again with that flash and boom. A part of him hopes that his mind would just shut down completely, leaving him an empty shell. A part of him hopes for the end. But there was still that biggest part that hopes that the bombs would just stop, and let them be. He never gets to realize that the shelling has ended.
Awww, honey, quit being so elmo...
^This, I've had over 250 tabs open a couple times xDD
Where is the meeting, Voxli? Did I miss it already?
Dude, that was like the first thing I thought of xD That's why I find it so funny. As long as you don't rhyme 'probe' with 'disrobe', that is
I know I shouldn't laugh at this joke, but I can't help but giggle at it like a freaking schoolboy every time a genuinely funny person says something like this.
D8 I'm gonna be singing that song all day now...
Hyva kuulla, Vicca kerto kans ite et mita oli tapahtunut Facessa... Juu, samoin ^.^ xD Vastasin just eilen.
Source .
I sorta agree, but I have to admit that I liked the third one quite a bit. Second one not so much, and I have no interest in the new one, despite the awesomeness of Depp.
Go ahead, I've got all day xDD
TheOnly9one for Manliest Man! Spoiler
I haven't been reading books as much as I used to, but due to my uncles recommendation I'm gonna try to make my way through Robert Zelazny's The Amber Chronicles. Plus, there's always fanfiction to rely on xD
If you don't mind me asking, how old are you and your friend? I'm not entirely sure if this is acceptable for Pg-13, so I put it under spoiler tags just in case (nothing too graphic, though) Spoiler I personally have nothing against the partying 'life-style', as long as it doesn't get too out of control (e.g. always use protection during sex, don't drive if you've been drinking, etc.), even though it definitely isn't for me. Sure, I've gone out drinking with friends, but I rarely get more than a little tipsy, and only dance with people I know. Kinda like you, I have some trust issues, and I absolutely cannot get intimate with someone I barely know, and I greatly dislike hangovers (plus I rarely have enough money to get properly wasted anyways >.<). Sex and intimacy is such an individual thing for people, some people enjoy casual sex, others need a deeper connection with their potential partner. Nothing wrong with either point of view in my opinion. I can only control myself, and I don't feel like it's my place to judge others who wish to party harder than I do. As long as your friend isn't hurting herself this way and it isn't disrupting her life, I see no problem with her using partying as a way to wind down.
*Tilts head* Dude, you Finnish or just copy-pasting random foreign lyrics?
And even in your case though it's the toughest case I've yet to face Don't worry! I'm determined to succeed, follow my lead and yes indeed.
8D And when someone needs a makeover I simply have to take over I know, I know, exactly what they need
Okay, that makes sense xD I'll do my best to figure something out, and if I can't think of nominations I'll definitely vote. I was fairly active...
