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19 May 2008 @ 05:41 pm
{begin}
[1-12] painted veil movie
[13-16] scenery; countryside
[17-21] dandlions
[22-27] Hayley duff
[28] Keira Knightley
{end}

Teasers::



 
 
 
26 October 2007 @ 08:23 pm
This is my first time making icons. They're so cute!  All the art are by faboarts at deviantart.com
Feel free to take which ever you like. But remember to comment and credit.

001 002 003
 
004 005 006
 
007 008 009
 
010 011 012
 
 
 
12 October 2007 @ 11:17 am
Imagine with me.
there is a room. it is objectless. That does not mean it is empty. you love it. you love the room. it has light that shines from far beyond the places of your regards. The light that arches across the mountains that echoes, the lakes that flows, and the alarm to a gentle call for the morning dews and subconscious minds to shine and to awake. The room, it carries an innocent fragrance of childhood, like a nostalgic flower that you once loved to smell. There is no bed there. there is no chair, nor is there a door. There is a window, so there is light. But as night cames with an early winter blow, the room is suddenly becomes cold. There is no moon. There is no light. But, still, a shadow appeared. The shadow lurked in your room. It haunted and called to you. Your name, it whispered. Like a thousands echoes vibrating by the tip of your ears. Then, at binding speed it fainted away. The shadow had eyes. and it was watching you. you were lonely and you were alone. And it was watching you.
The morning comes. The cycles begins, again and again.  
The loveliness and the suspense.
A repetition that can not be broken. A crooked clock. A frozen in time.
Every night. The memories and the pains.
Suffering all alone. 

 
 
10 October 2007 @ 03:05 pm
if only__ .

Of light from your eyes,
Still, there are so pained.
Of the beauty that allured me,
I've never felt so hopeless,
If only I was the the one,
that surely will not make you cry,
If only I was the one,
Then there will no more lies.
. . . .
At first glance. The wind
run its fingers through your hair.
You caught all the attention of the sun, 
as your skin became iridescent by its light.
But the scars of my arms could not hide.
Why did you stay will him?
Even though he made you cry.
. . . .
If only I could suffer your nightmares,
Free them,
then just watch you in serene dreams.
If only my touch could heal you.
Then you could hold me with no false motives.
If only I could be your voice,
but how can I illuse such a mesmerizing sound.
If only you loved me
But him, was your choice.
. . . .
Why won't you let me set you free.
Are of afraid of me?
If only, somehow, I could make you see.
I love you,
And forever will be.
. . . .
Let me hold your hand.
There so many things I wanted to show you.
Let me pull you from the dark
Teach you fly away.
Let me guide you.
If only you would let me.
. . . .
Do you ever regret your decision, my love?
That you can no longer breathe.
Do you ever wish,
that maybe you could have been happy with me?
. . . .
I stand here on your grave.
Holding back tears.
If only you were mine.
Then you wouldn't have died.
 
 
10 October 2007 @ 12:30 pm
Title: Puppy Love
Author: tranquie 
Characters: Quil/Claire, partly - requited Jacob/Bella
Narrator: Jacob
Genre: Romance, Fluff, Angst
Rating: K+
Author's Note: I've always thought the creation of Quil and Claire's love was extremely cute. So I made my own adaptation.
Summary: A more bizarre and sweet love. For once not requited or forbidden. But with a condition of a patient wait.
Disclaimer: I don't own it. You know who does.

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 Tears swelled beneath those wide blue eyes. Twixt lips quivered to the emotions of haste. Irrational thoughts and misunderstandings caused infinite cries. Rushing feet and tenacious pouts. Love had caused these devotees to forget to say goodbye.

The little one panicked as soon as she heard the news. He was gone. Of course, an infant's thoughts were ambiguous to a more educated being. Without the mature understanding of the world -- as the mind is not yet fully developed, it was normal for an infant to act impulsively. That would be how a wise man with logical intelligence would interpret these actions. But I knew, it was love that simulated actions of impetuousness.

It was not impulsive. It was logic, almost. Of course, a wise man would not know. He had never surrendered himself to love.

Love was not given for granted. As soon as it is insularly lost, one would seek to find it again. It was nature, or intuition, but not inferiority. It is a journey without destination, the pursuing was the treasure.

It was entertaining. Yes, that was the word. An enlightening concept almost, I suppose. The way he held her fragile form, the softness of his touch. The way his hands could not ease away from her smooth cheeks, the kind obsession. The way he panicked when she cried, the anxiety in his eyes, and the way he smiled contiguously when she could, the entwined emotions. Through their gentlest of abstinence, it was love. Only a fool would not know.

But it was a fool, a sycophantic fool that could surrender to the blindness and kindness of love.

Quil had surrendered. His eyes told all. But he was no fool.

The way he stared! I would see him support his head with his right hand, tilting his face and observe. He knew exactly how many breaths she had taken, how many times she had blinked, how many steps she had taken before falling down again. He could understand her incredulous language of the babies and love her volubility. He could foretell her movement. He could have his hand and heart free, constantly vacant for the day her feelings will come in return. There was a connection there that a wise man would always miss. It was only fools that could dwell in the supremacy of love.

But we are no fools.

There love was like no other. It was delicate, secretive and adorable. It was not embarrassing when they would cuddle, or disturbing when he would kiss her on the forehead. It was sweet, like puppy love.
In this case, I suppose it was ironically true: a young wolf in love with a younger human.

The moment her teary eyes glanced upon her future lover, the tears immediately ceased. A tiny familiar smile curled her lips upwards. Revealing dimples and tiny teeth. She wobbled her way to Quil, while he readied his arms open and welcoming. A few giggles escaped from here and there, filling in the atmosphere with echoes of laughter and of sudden and absolute happiness. It was interesting to watch how their love grew. Slower than most of us, but much warmer and richer. More special.

She crashed her petite body next to the warm loving boy, and she held tight, sighed, and then closed her eyes, finally succumbing to sleep. He carried his sleeping seraph up the sets of stairs and placed her tenderly into her comfy crib. Then he would just stare.

“I’m glad you came home early, she had been crying ever since she realized you were gone.” Emily whispered in a hushed voice.

“I know, I couldn’t stay away either.” Quill admitted.

“She made you something today,” Emily remembered, then walked to a drawing table and pulled out a sheet of glittery paper.

Quill held it tight in his warm hands, touched nearly to tears. There was a picture of a big head drawn in a blue crayon and a figure of a smaller head drawn in pink. Their heads connected together, ear to ear. A curled, long red line on their faces resembled genuine smiles and arched, irregular letters wrote: the world’s greatest big brother, I love you.

First he will be her greatest brother, then he will be her greatest friend, then sweethearts, then soul mates, then eternal lovers.

All he had to do was wait.

It was only then that I realized why lovers were called fools. I was the fool. I dwell in the supremacy of love, requited, but true. I look upon others’ adoration and have not had any myself. I longed for love, as did the poets and writers who had created the term, but I wanted a love that could never be rightfully be mine. I was a fool to think I could persuade her with only the phenomenal power of my love. I was a fool to fall unconditionally in love with her. But behind that stubborn mind of both hers and mine, I couldn't help but dwell in the heartwarming possibilities of just us.

We could be lovers. We should be lovers.

So I, too, will wait.
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