tanya is testing! dnp, dns

[stick me on]

and i can't wait forever boy
and the moon and the stars
the look in your eyes better find its way into me
xx the look in xour exes better find its wax into me xx

text.

[stick me on]

you’re on your way into my heart
if you don’t start slowing down
i saw it coming from the start
you're on your way now

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It was exactly eight ante meridian, which meant that Clifford Clement Cliffton had already been awake for three hours and was in one of his cheery moods. The early bird gets the worm - as the old saying goes. Well, following that train of logic, Cliffton managed to get far more than a measly worm. What could someone do with a worm anyway? (Millions of things, actually, now that Clifford’s mind stumbled across the question.) Anyway, the point was that Cliffton always managed to snag the preverbal worm, and then some. Finely tuned and perfectly calibrated, Cliffton’s internal clock rang bright and clear every morning at five am. Jumping out of bed with a silly grin slapped across his face for no reason at all, another day eagerly awaited Cliff. Unless, of course, he had gotten less than eight hours of sleep. In that case Cliffton would just press the snooze button on his internal alarm and crawl back into bed. Ugh, if only there was someone to crawl back into bed with.

Actually . . . Cliffton was working on that! Three months had passed since his particularly nasty break up with his girlfriend of two years. Affairs like that are always traumatic and life shattering. But hey, three is the magic number. After moping around a little bit, Cliffton decided to give himself a nice kick in the posterior. Depression and self-pity never sat well with Cliffton. Like everyone else he was prone to bouts of sadness, but past experience had taught the thirty-seven year old male how to move on with his life and show those damn exes what they were missing out on. Those exes were certainly missing out on a lot. The word ‘romantic’ didn’t even begin to describe Cliff. Hell, Nicholas Spark himself couldn’t think of all of the wild (and ridiculously corny) gimmicks that Cliff pulled. Just this morning Cliff had arranged a giant bouquet of sunflowers. Why sunflowers? Because sunflowers were the best damn flower ever to grace the surface of this wonderful, wonderful earth. What other plant turns it’s face to capture the sun? Granted, all plants absorb sunlight and photosynthesize - but most plants don’t actually follow the sun. Seriously, that was just cool. Plus, sunflowers were a fantastic allegory for life. Always follow the sunshine and skip through dewy meadows singing kumbaya while holding hands and leaping over rainbows.

Oh, just so everyone’s clear, the whole skipping-through-the-fields-while-singing thing was not a joke. That was how Cliffton viewed everyday. No joke. Life was wonderful! Life was colorful! Life was full of love, and thus, life was full of flowers. Sunflowers, in particular. After waking up at five am, Cliff ate, showered, dressed, and followed the entire morning routine. By 6:09 am, he was out of his apartment on his way to work. His job as a wedding cake baker didn’t really start until eight am, but Cliffton planned to raid the massive deposit of flowers. And he did just that. The arrangement of sunflowers (interspersed with daisies, clovers, and other common flowers) was gigantic. It stood at four feet and was probably three feet wide. For dramatic flair, Cliff had tied the pot-thing with a giant yellow ribbon. On a blank card he wrote:

(:

- C

So maybe it wasn’t Shakespeare, but Cliffy figured that actions spoke louder than words. For a month he had been sending a certain Elizabeth Tiao Tsui various gifts, ranging from chocolates to flowers to small little paintings of goldfish. Pretty much anything that made Cliff smile was considered fair game when it came to gifting. Cliff was the sort of guy who smiled just because he felt like it. When walking down the street he would be humming something to himself with a goofy grin plastered across his entire face. But if there was one thing that could make Cliff’s lips stretch until they hurt, it was sunflowers. And that was why he was gifting them to this woman. That was why he had spent hours putting together the sunny masterpiece. Despite his cherry disposition, there was no way in hell Cliffton was going to do that for just anyone. You had to be pretty damn special if you wanted a bouquet of sunflowers. Ms. (yes! Cliffton loved that honorific prefix.) Elizabeth Tiao Tsui was considered pretty special.

After all, Cliffton had only been in love with her for, what, years?

He had first met Elizabeth at her wedding to Sebastian Miguel Salazar. Cliffton had no idea who this man was. Not that it mattered, Mr. Salazar was an a**. If Cliff ever met the man he would be sure to deliver poetic justice in the form of a fist to Sebastian’s chiseled Spanish face. Afterwards, Cliffton would give his a large slobbery kiss (the non-gay kind, of course) and thank him for being such a douche and cheating on Elizabeth. If Sebastian hadn’t cheated, Elizabeth and him would still be together. Thus, Cliffton owed the man a nice little thank you note, right? As he sent off a delivering boy with the gargantuan flower arrangement, Cliffton just couldn’t help but wonder about relationship etiquette. Did you send thank you notes to the heart breakers that lead your beloved to you?

By the time eight am rolled around that question was quickly wiped from Cliffton’s mind. One of the wedding cakes was having errrr - structural difficulties. Cliffton’s eight layer masterpiece was leaning like the Tower of Piza. Any sudden movements would probably cause the thing to fall over, splattering all over the floor, and killing everyone. Alright, so maybe that was a slight exaggeration. Either way, a wobbly cake was no good and there was no way Cliff was starting from the beginning. It took forever to make a cake - a good one anyway. The wedding was in two days. They just didn’t have the time to start from scratch. This cake was kinda like a relationship. You can’t just throw people away, even if they are just the tinniest bit wobbly. In love (here comes the thematic statement), you have to roll up your sleeves if you want to save the people you love. Cliffton was more than willing to roll up his sleeves if it meant that Elizabeth would notice him and maybe, just maybe, love him back someday.

[stick me on]

blow a kiss that leaves me gasping
i want to feel that lightning strike me

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If there was one thing that this grumpy Brit couldn’t stand, it was airports. The expansive space seemed tiny, as thousands of sweaty bodies pushed and grunted in cruel attempts to reach the doors and cue up for a taxi. Everything about airports reminded Edward of cramped economy seats that left your back paralyzed and your legs screaming in pain. Even when Edward was younger he never liked airports, or airplanes for that matter. Maybe it had something to do with the massive fight that his parents had on a commercial airline from London to Paris. The two of them had hurtled angry words in public to the confused stares of Edward and other passengers of the aircraft. Eventually, an air hostess needed to intervene, moving both adults to different seats. For the rest of that flight, Edward sat sandwiched between two doting older women. It was a sure lot better than having his parents verbally abuse each other over his tiny curled head. But after that flight nothing was ever the same. His parents immediately got divorced. The glamourous Gloria Fenton, now Gloria Swanska, moved back to her native France and opened up a boutique, a long time dream of hers. Ronald Fenton continued with his law practice and kept firm hold on his son’s custody. Nothing was ever the same after that day.

So, naturally, Edward wasn’t too happy about having to go to the damn airport to pick up some American that he had never seen before. Really, who sent someone on an ambiguous assignment like ‘yeah, just go to the airport and pick up an American’?! Edward didn’t even know if this American was male or female. On top of that, she could be almost any ethnicity. America was like Britian, a large melting pot. For Pete’s sake, this person could be black, Asian, or Hispanic for all Edward knew. Most likely, Edward thought that he was there to pick up one of his American acquaintances. What was his name again . . . Robert Smith? That man was the most insane person Edward had ever met. As a quiet artist, Edward had never seen anyone so loud and drunk before. It was a bloody harrowing experience and one that Edward never wanted to experience again.

There Edward stood, at the metal fence thing that separated the arrivals from the people picking them up. The sign that he held limply in his hand had the name Smith scribbled across it in his messy cursive. Edward doubted that anybody could decipher the jumbled mess of lines and squiggles. Honestly, Edward couldn’t care less. Whoever Smith was would have to find him. There was no bloody way that Edward was going to chase down the blabbering American idiot. The idea was complete bullocks. Right now Edward could have been home in his dodgy apartment and finishing up his master piece. His spray cans were just calling to him. Unfortunately, he had to stand here in the airport and pick up Smith - whoever the hell that was. Whoopie doo.

Could somebody please put a bullet in Edward’s head now - pleaseee?

After thirty minutes of incredibly painful waiting (there was nothing to do but to stand around an fidget. not exactly Edward’s definition of a good time) the arrivals slowly began to trickle out the doors. That trickle turned into a blooming tidal wave in a matter of seconds. This was yet another reason Edward hated airports. The noise was deafening. But thank the almighty holy lord who sits on his lofty cloud and laughs at all human misery, soon Edward would be out of this forsaken place and back to his spray cans, where he actually belonged. Raising the poster he bellowed, “SMITH! SMITH! IS THERE ANYONE THAT GOES BY THE BLOODY NAME OF SMITH?!” repeatedly. All the while he prayed for Smith not to be some bloated man who sweated mayonnaise. Maybe he would get some pretty girl . . .

Yeah, like there was any bloody chance of that happening.

[stick me on]

edward daye fenton
________________the artist

friends call me eddy
been alive for twenty-five years
falling over photographer
played by cwumbiie

[stick me on]

_______________the jeweled goblet -- ( HALVER ROBERT FREDI )
________________________age nineteen; male

» passionate ; hot headed ; defensive ; irascible ; sensitive

» you either take it or leave it. there is no halfway point with this boy. the middle path? what the hell is that? you have to know what you stand for and stand for it. this boy will take everything personally and act according to that. attack him or his friends? well, you don't want to see just how much testosterone is packed into this body. happiness and love don't count for much. it's how much fierce energy you can fight with that counts. when the world pushes, you push back. harder.

» invincibility for an hour and a phoenix. (the phoenix is to teach him how to control his temper.)

» cwumbiie

[stick me on]

halver robert fredi™

xxxjυsт тнε Ьαsιcs

call me by my real name and i'll kick your a**→ just choose the first or second half of my name. that's 'hal' or 'ver' to any halfwits out there.
just because I'm awesome like that→ the jeweled goblet
plentiful bounds of years→ nineteen - legal, man. have fun with that.
peeking and teasing→ male. do you want evidence?
loving and leaving→ straight. what? do i need to prove that as well?
i've fallen in love→ no one, yet. and why would i tell you anyway?

xxxlooκ αgαιη

no, i don't wear stilts→ six feet, hopefully i can squeeze out a few more inches.
so not fat→ one hundred seventy pounds of pure sex and muscle.
i swear it's natural→ dark brown
no colored contacts here→ brown
such lovely ink→ a little cartoon car on my wrist.
there's metal in my skin→ nope. i'm not a big fan of setting off metal detectors.

xxxso dαyυм υηιqυe!

passionate→ when i give, i give 110%. there is no half assed efforts when it comes to me. on the flip side, if i don't care about something i really don't give it any attention. maybe that was why i failed school. ok, there is no maybe. i failed school because i didn't care. the only reason i even bothered showing up was because of my friends. i love those insane freaks to death. trust me, there's no exaggeration when i say that i would risk life and limb for them. live hard, die hard, eh? that's my mantra right there. i do what i want. i do what i love.
irascible→ i have a temper, that's no secret. my mother once described me as a 'reactionary'. the smallest little thing has the ability to set me off. i take everything to heart, what can i say? i'm not going to apologize for the fact that i care deeply enough about something to act. ok, so that's a lie. i don't have to be head over heels for something in order to get pissed off and strike. i just happen to have a temper. i'm not going to hide it. there is no way in hell i'm going to become on of those passive aggressive freaks who lets off steam by coloring outside the lines or whatever.
open→ i don't like secrets. i just don't. everything about me is out in the open for everyone to see. if i'm happy, i show it. if i'm sad, i show it. if i'm angry - well, i definitely express my anger. but that's not what i mean by 'open'. the thing is my family kinda skirts around the point in an attempt to preserve each other's feelings. that always ends badly. the best way to avoid pain is to KISS. keep it simple stupid. n** the problem in the bud, you don't want anything to get out of hand.
sensitive→ alright, let me clear up one thing. people who get angry easily are not cold hearted bastards. in fact, life cuts us deep. that's why we get angry. anger is a reaction to the world. it's not like inertia or apathy, anger signifies that somebody cares. i definitely care. only a few things really matter to me, but a snide comment or little gesture can really get to me.
hot headed→ i'm always right. always. always. always. there is no negotiation on that point. i act quickly, and i always think i'm right. thinking deeply was never really on the agenda. my life is a nike slogan: just do it. the only problem is that my quick temperament always ends up screwing me over. i'm only right in the moment, afterwards i tend to realize that i royally messed up. yeah. i tend to live in the moment and act based on my gut. one day those guts that i always listen to are going to be splattered across some pavement.

xxxεωωy αηd yυммy

cars→ i'm an absolute car fanatic. my dad is a mechanic, so i grew up around cars. i could tinker with an engine before i could speak. there is just something wonderful about vehicles, cars in particular. it's amazing how all of those parts just come together to form something so useful and magical. when i'm angry the only the that can really cool me off is a car. i just have to sit inside one or breathe the scent of motor oils and i immediately calm down.
camping→ by now you should have guessed that i like getting down and dirty. uh huh, i know where your mind is going with that. but i'm just going to stop you right there. i'm not going to put on a suit and go into some mundane job with the goal of making millions. down to the bone, i'm a country boy. small towns and big fields are the thing for me. the city would just suffocate me. seriously, the phrase 'concrete jungle' is just a joke. there's nothing that makes the city even remotely jungle-ish. anyway, camping . . . i love camping. getting close to mother nature (and away from your damn parents) is just great. but camping is a really personal thing. i won't just invite anyone to come with me. if i invite you camping, then you know that you're special.
late nights→ once the sun goes down, the party starts. i know that sounds like some lame tagline for a shitty vodka, but it's true. getting wasted isn't really my style, but i do love staying up late and just doing whatever. there's something beautiful about the night sky. it doesn't matter whether or not you can see the sky, it's just something about how the streetlights glow and how the air just smells different. cool nights where you can just feel the slightest breeze are the best. i think i might have been a bat in my past life. the sun is great and all, but there's just something so seductive about nighttime. oh god, seductive . . . maybe that's not the right word. whatever. the night is great. period.
spontaneity→ there's nothing sexier than a girl who lets down her hair and whisks me off to dance in the fields. seriously, energy and uniqueness is wonderful on anyone. spontaneity is just part of passion for me. yep, you guessed it. i'm very spontaneous. if an urge strikes me, i'll follow it until it dies out. dancing in the fields? yep. i've done that before. but it's no fun to be wild and free on your own. dance with me?
muffins with frosting→ and no, i don't mean cupcakes. i love muffins with frosting on them. yep, real muffins. banana. blueberry. plain. it doesn't matter, as long as it has that muffin-y taste to it. oh yeah, and it needs frosting too. cupcakes as disgusting, as are plain muffins.
midnight picnics→ this is something that elle and i do. it's our special little thing. whenever one of us is feeling down or just feels like it, we sneak out of our houses with a little food, a basket, and a blanket. regardless of bad days and worse luck, a midnight picnic never fails to pick me up. if there's one thing that i'm going to miss after eleanor goes off to college is our secret picnics.

school→ ugh. school was a waste of time. there were so many useless subjects. i'm going to be a car mechanic for god's sake. i don't need to know about english or whatever. the only things that i was interested in were math and biology. math because i was thinking about going into engineering; biology because nature is just awesome. school is just depressing. if it weren't for my friends and my parent's breathing down my neck, i would have quit a long time ago. there is no point in flushing my time down the toilet. school was boring, it was useless. i applied to universities, yeah, i actually did. i was thinking that maybe - just maybe - university would be more interesting than high school. i wanted to work with my hands and go into engineering. but with my 3.0 gpa there was no way i was going anywhere good. so i scrapped the university plan. blue collar job here i come.
early mornings→ waking up is the worst part of my day. i sleep late and for extended periods of time. early mornings are perfectly fine if i've gotten more than eleven hours of sleep. most of the time, that isn't the case. ughh. i am just not a morning person, unless i've stayed up all night and gone to bed at five am that is.
burning hot food→ some people like it when that turkey pops straight out of the oven. yeah, those people are freaks. seriously, i can't understand how anyone can like food that is hot enough to burn a hole through their frickin' tongue. warm food is always nice and yummy, but it at least has to cool for a few minutes. drinks follow the same rule. hot chocolate? it's usually too hot. i prefer to drop a few icecubes into my drink before downing it.
indecisiveness→ do you know those people who can't make up their mind? do you know those people who are so damn timid that they can't even share their opinion without bursting a blood vessel? uh huh. i can't stand those types of people. like addfwyn (it took me forever to figure out how to pronounce her name) drives me insane. that girl would jump at a leaf for heaven's sake. time wasters bother me. just make up your damn mind and spit out your opinion already. jeez, it's not that hard.
fuzzy rodents→ hamsters, gerbils, and mice are the most vicious things in the world. i have a tiny little fear of all fuzzy rodents. it's something about their beady little eyes and sharp blood-drawing teeth. i'm getting the shivers just thinking about them. my friend once had a fat little hamster. that thing freaked me out, i couldn't come to her house after she got it.
my future→ let's be frank, i have no real future. i'm not going to university, so that automatically means my life is going to suck. sure, i have a job. but i 'm continuing in my dad's footsteps as a car mechanic. yeah, yeah. i know what you're going to say. "but ver, don't you love cars?" i like cars, yeah - i do. but that doesn't mean i want to work on them for the rest of my life. fixing up cars is just a hobby, a fun little challenge that i enjoy. the moment it becomes my job i'm going to hate it. university is still an option . . . i could be an engineer, if i really wanted too. but i don't think that's going to happen.

cwumbiie

[stick me on]

my eyes are open wide. and by the way, i made it through the day.
i watched the world outside. by the way, i'm leaving out today.
i just saw hayley's comet. she waved, said "why you always running in place?"
even the man in the moon disappeared somewhere in the stratosphere.

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for iglittery

[stick me on]

in a field outside of town we could always be alone
carry a blanket maybe a basket - and that's it
innocence was the key i was locked up never free
until you turned me - like vines we intertwined
carelessly growing up and growing old
life was on our tongues and it tasted heavenly so good
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To say that Halver was in a bad mood as he pulled into Eleanor’s driveway would have been a massive understatement. It would have been more accurate to say that Hal was - excuse the French - ******** pissed. Right now the little car clock read 5:49 PM. Hal had been rudely awakened by his mother at six o’clock in the damn morning just because she “couldn’t get the coffee machine to work.” His response? Obviously, Halver climbed out of bed and helped his mother repair the coffee machine with a silly grin slapped across his silly face. Haha. Yeah right. It was six AM, there was no way that Hal could have been reasonable at that hour. Instead of skipping down the dewy meadows and fixing the coffee machine, Hal glared at his mother (how he hated her at that moment) and told her that if he touched the coffee machine he’d probably end up releasing his anger upon it. Needless to say, the peppy Mrs. Fredi pat her son on the head and let him drift off to sleep. Unfortunately for every living being, the damage had been done. Hal was going to have a bad day regardless of rainbows, butterflies, and sparkling unicorns. Yes, it was a little immature. To let one bad event ruin your entire day isn’t exactly a recipe for a healthy life. Hal, however, couldn’t care less. He did what he wanted and damned anyone else who apposed. If he wanted to be pissed, he would be pissed. The only one who could possibly turn his frown upside down was Eleanor. She just had to be herself. One smile from her, one laugh, one hug was enough to make Hal’s day just a little bit better. That didn’t sound like much, but, in fact, it was a miracle.

Unfortunately, from 6:00 AM to 5:49 PM, Hal had not seen Eleanor. Thus, his day had been incredibly shitty and miserable. After his mother had disturbed his sleep, Halver was up and about. There was nothing that could have lulled him back to sleep. So, instead of doing anything productive, he sat on the floor staring at this incredibly odd egg that he had picked up from the field. The thing was huge. Alright, maybe it wasn’t huge in the traditional sense. The egg wasn’t going to hatch a full grown Godzilla or anything. Huge, in Hal’s definition, meant that it was bigger than his fist. The egg was defiantly bigger than Hal’s fist. In fact, it was just the perfect size to fit into the jeweled goblet that he had filched from the fields. What a coincidence it was that two seemingly random and useless objects fit together like a key and a lock. For twenty minutes Halver sat on the floor, running his fingers along the strange objects. The goblet was smooth, almost perfect in a timeless sense. From his limited knowledge, Hal would have guessed that the artifact was medieval or even biblical. However, it’s surface was unblemished. The goblet could have easily been manufactured yesterday. Hal doubted it. There was a regal air to the object that distinguished it from all the other made-in-China products that Hal had seen. The egg too had the same mythical air. For half an hour, Hal had tried to figure out if life had stirred within. He grew more and more frustrated with every passing moment. Nothing seemed to work. There were no clues to be found. Impatient as ever, Hal wan’t an answer - now. But there was no answer. Nobody was going to tell him what these objects where or why the hell he, of all people, had them. The anger peaked and rose like stream from a cauldron until suddenly Hal threw the egg across the room and stormed out.

Yep, he was definitely having a bad day. The fact that Eleanor was asking for a piggy-back ride didn’t help that fact. Actually, that was a lie. Eleanor’s whiney request was actually cheering Hal up, in an odd sort of way. “You look like a hick,” Hal said, in response to her outfit. Actually, Elea looked nice - in her own way. “Just kidding, you look nice - for a lazy fatty. One day you’re going to be as fat as Chirrpy. I bet you’ll eat him too,” Hal mused, squatting down and letting Elea hop on his back. He ran around the her yard for a few minutes, letting Elea spread her arms and squeal with joy, before dropping her onto the grass. With a fake roar he tackled her and began tickling her sides. Hal was very ticklish, so this was an even game. At first he had the advantage, being bigger and stronger, Hal was able to pin Eleanor down and have her in fits of giggles. But the petite energizer bunny soon found a way to poke at his ribs, Hal’s Achilles' heel. One touch there and he was laughing and gasping for air. The pair rolled around on the grass for a while, goofing off and smiling as their lungs begged for air. It was already dark, so anyone peering out of their windows would assume that Halver and Eleanor were doing more than playing.

Hal and Elea never did more than play. Naula Sullivan was the only girl that Ver really played with - if you catch my drift. That’s all that Naula and Halver did, play. There was no real relationship between the two, no handholding, no piggybacks. Stark sexual electricity was all that zapped between the two. Even that was rather shallow. They were not friends with benefits. Which Hal found unfortunate. Hal had many lovely benefits to share with the little ladies. Either way, Halver wasn’t interested in a real relationship with Naula. He knew that she felt the same way too. It was just a little fun. And who doesn’t find a hot kiss against a thick tree fun? Halver definitely found the experience pleasant. Pinning Naula against that tree and slipping his large hand underneath her shirt, Hal found himself looking forward to this party. Hal never looked forward to anything, apart from his midnight picnics with Eleanor - but that was besides the point. There was a big difference from best friends and errr - girls like Naula.

With their tickling war over (Hal had lost miserably.) and wet grass staining Ver’s jeans and T-shirt, Hal figured it was time to go and hoisted Eleanor over his shoulder. “Man, you’ve gotten heavy,” Hal jested. “Are you sure you didn’t eat Chrippy?” Eleanor knew he was joking. Hal made mocking comments like that all the time. In fact, Elea was light as a feather. Despite his well-built physic, Hal couldn’t lift reallyyy heavy objects over his shoulder. He wasn’t superman for heaven’s sake. “Ughh. Ami.” Hal made a face. That woman was just vicious. She managed to take every opportunity to tear Hal apart. Of course, it was kinda his fault. A lioness doesn’t strike unprovoked - not that Ver would admit that he had any part in his own demise. Either way, Ami’s sharp tongue managed to tear Halver apart every time. He despised her for that, but managed to put on a nice face for Eleanor. How she got along with everyone was absolutely beyond him. “Alright - Addfwwwwwwwn -” Halver had never been able to pronounce Addfwyn’s name. Instead of even bothering, he’s just say Add and then blow an ‘F’ sound through his teeth. “- Willow, and Ami? Anyone else? And why don’t you go all out? Just paint rainbows and unicorns. Make sure it’s colorful. Go nuts, Elle.” They were now on the way to Addfwyn’s house. It wasn’t that long of a drive. Immediately, after telling Elae to “go nuts”, she immediately began prattling a list of possible color schemes and stuff. Hal wasn’t sure if she understood that he was kidding. “I love you with all my heart, but I’m going to have to see a phoenix burst into ashes before I let you near my car with a paintbrush.”

[stick me on]

emily holms

the twenty-six year old friend and mother
warm | fierce | sharp
firebrick | reese witherspoon

lawrence holms

the twenty-six year old friend and father
funny | carefree | insightful
darkslateblue | james franco

[stick me on]

first last middle names
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxthe role

trait | trait | trait | trait | trait
age number typed
posting color | model
username

[stick me on]

and i hate how much i love you boy
i can't stand how much i need you
and i hate how much i love you boy
but i just can't let you go
and i hate that i love you so

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Chlorine, it was a wonderful smell to wake up to. Since she was six, Kendra had adored the bright smell of a freshly cleaned pool. There was something about the blue tiles glittering from beneath rippling waters that just soothed her soul and made her ridiculously happy. Mrs. Berloyd was a PE teacher, so Kendra - or Kenny, as he close friends called her - had grown up with an affinity for sports. She was an odd child, playing soccer with the boys before returning home to dress up her barbies. It only followed that Kenny grew up into a pretty little jockette, the feminine popular type, not the butch type that probably took steroids and had a voice of a man. Kendra loved all physical activities, however swimming was her favorite. She still did cross country and track during the off seasons, but she still woke up at five every morning and swam for an hour. This little habit of hers, cultivated from sixth grade, earned Kendra the nickname ‘the little mermaid’. That had been Kendra’s nickname for as long as she could remember, but when she hit middle school it just stuck. The irony was that Ariel wanted to leave the ocean to join the humans. Kendra would have given up her voice and her soul to grow fins and spend the rest of her life floating through the ocean. Swimming was her soul. That was no exaggeration. In her time, Kendra was one of the few freshmen that managed to make it to the swimming exchange. She was now a senior. Her competitive fire had kept her number one for as long as she could remember.

Only one person could even come close to matching her: Elliot Levi Flynk.

Kendra hated that cocky little Lions’ mascot (the Lions and the Eagles were mortal enemies) ever since her freshman year. He was at the same level as Kendra. Few freshmen managed to make it to the exchange, so imagine Kendra’s disappointment when she bumped into another freshie. Her little bubble of joy and pride was burst rather quickly. But that wasn’t enough reason for her to hate Elliot. The reason why she held a flaming grudge against her fellow swimmer was that he was an a**. Elliot Levi Flynk was rude, cruel, and absolutely drop dead gorgeous. But many guys were hot, so that didn’t count for much. So what if he didn’t have that typical ‘athlete’ look? Elliot was still absolutely adorable. He was a swimmer, so he looked pretty damn good in a bathing suit. Whatever, Kendra looked pretty hot in her tight little swimsuit too. So there was no reason to go gaga for Mr.Elliot. The fact that he was an absolute b*****d. Elliot and Kendra had been competing since their first exchange. Things only got nastier and nastier each year.

But this morning, Elliot was the farthest thing from Kendra’s mind. Most of the time she didn’t waste her time thinking about him. All that she cared about was hoping into that pool and letting all of her worries melt away. Competitions always made Kendra feel apprehensive. She lived and breathed for winning, but the mere thought of loosing made her feel a little faint. Kendra was a very, very bad looser. Which is why she need a swim. She had risen from bed bright and early. Slipping on her bathing suit, Kendra slipped on a loose graphic tee and dolphin shorts before heading out from her host’s house, her flip flops cushioning her feet as her hand clutched the strap of her duffel bag, which hung over her small shoulder. Few swimmers woke up this early. Most swimmers would just utilize practice time and maybe do a little paddling in the evening. Not Kendra, she loved the water so much that she was in it every morning before school and ever afternoon after school. So imagine her surprise when Kendra saw somebody at the pool. She couldn’t recognize him, as the swim cap covered his hair. He left the pool, dripping (wow. that body!) and stood on the diving board. Ignoring him, Kendra started making her way towards the bleachers with the intention of stripping down to her bathing suit. As per usual, she walked along the pool’s edge, dipping her feet into the water. Then whoever was on the diving board plopped into the water with a major canon ball. The water splashed everywhere, drenching Kendra. Who else would surface except for Elliot Flynk? “Hey a*****e - watch it. Thanks for drenching me.” If it was anyone else, Kenny would have laughed and splashed them. But this was Elliot, and he could do no good.

[stick me on]

xxxxxxxxxxxivan emeric vinzenzxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxthe mad scientist

alright, just call me ivan or vin.
didn't you do your research? i'm twenty-seven years old.
i guess you could describe me as brilliant, obsessed, and impulsive.
but it depends on who is doing the talking.
hands down, dodgerblue is my favorite color.
yeah, some people say that i look like jake gyllenhaal, but i don't mind.
no more questions. feel free to talk to my manager, cwumbiie.

xxxxxxxxxxxname name namexxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxthe mad hatter

alright, just call me nickname.
didn't you do your research? i'm age years old.
i guess you could describe me as trait, trait, and trait.
but it depends on who is doing the talking.
hands down, posting color is my favorite color.
yeah, some people say that i look like face claim, but i don't mind.
no more questions. feel free to talk to my manager, username.

[stick me on]

politics is the art of looking for trouble,
finding it whether it exists or not,
diagnosing it incorrectly,
and applying the wrong remedy.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Here's a question: who cares about a frickin' volcano when you have a damn economic crisis to solve?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Was this punishment for something? What had Amy done wrong? Nobody, not even the Communists, deserved to be put into a situation as foul as the one Amy found herself in. She was stuck with the one and only Mathew Stanford - alone. On top of that she was hiking up some Godforsaken volcano or mountain or some geological landform thing. Honestly, Amy would have preferred to be inside, sorting the president's fan mail. Amy hated sorting out fan mail. "And what is it that you are trying to show me?"