Hi, I'm Stratoverra.

I don't flame, but I will give you criticism, especially if you're one of those people who writes with poor spelling/grammar and text talk.

Also, I should probably tell you now that I proudly support slash and femslash, and I will not be intimidated by flames about the sin of homosexuality and all that crap. However, if you want to send me a negative review about the actual plot or my writing style, I will respect what you have to say.

moonbabytsukiko is my dear friend who also has an account here. Please check her out!

Likes: Music, writing, reading, foreign cultures, philosophy, fire, summer evenings, snow, full moons, storms, the ocean, hanging out with friends, color guard, outdoorsy sports, freedom, inspiration, inner peace, absolute chaos.

Quotes:

"It is what you read when you don't have to that determines what you will be when you can't help it." -Oscar Wilde

"The Eagle soars into the night, its jet-black wings morphing,changing. Its wings become the sky, its eyes the galaxy. Its wing span stretches across the earth, burying everyone in blissfull silence. But then! The Eagle's call." -Poem by moonbabytsukiko

"Why do humans always look to the sky? Why do you all try so hard to fly when you don't have any wings? We use what we've been given... we'll run, on our own legs, for as long as it takes." -Kiba

"It was a mistake to try to bring Mom back- we learned that the hard way. The cycle of life only goes one way. Not even alchemy can change that." -Edward Elric

"Everyone's gonna to die. It's a natural part of life. But if life has no purpose, you're dead already." –Kiba

Love

crosses its islands, from grief to grief

it sets its roots, watered with tears

and no one —no one— can escape the

heart’s progress

as it runs, silent and carnivorous.

You and I searched for a wide valley, for

another planet

where the salt wouldn’t touch your hair,

where sorrows couldn’t grow because of

anything I did,

where bread could live and not grow old.

A planet entwined with vistas and foliage,

a plain, a rock, hard and unoccupied:

we wanted to build a strong nest

with our own hands, without hurt of harm

or speech,

but love was not like that: love was a

lunatic city

with crowds of people blanching on

their porches.

-Sonnet 71 by Pablo Neruda

He is more than a hero
he is a god in my eyes--
the man who is allowed
to sit beside you -- he

who listens intimately
to the sweet murmur of
your voice, the enticing

laughter that makes my own
heart beat fast. If I meet
you suddenly, I can'

speak ― my tongue is broken;
a thin flame runs under
my skin; seeing nothing,

hearing only my own ears
drumming, I drip with sweat;
trembling shakes my body

and I turn paler than
dry grass. At such times
death isn't far from me.

-He Is More Than a Hero by Sappho