Author has written 8 stories for Twilight, and Criminal Minds.
Picture: Unrelated but it's a giant panda shooting a pantless knight in the stomach with a rainbow coming out of his mouth in a field of flowers on a hill, so it's chill bro.
About me: 99% of the world loves me but I hate 99% of the world. I'm the wierdest person you will ever meet, I think I'm a ghetto black woman, love Lady Gaga more than my mother and incorporate the phrase "girl please" in every story I tell. I swear more than is attractive for a woman and love Harry Potter, drawing Manga (Shoujo and Chibi), internet, books, and writing. Oh, I'm pansexual.
Musical Taste: e,
My Chemical Romance
Never Shout Never
My Original Stories:
Love, A Poem
A poem about love...
Ten drabbles about the love (both sisterly and otherwise) between Alice and Bella for the Drabble Challenge (Rules in story).
A song-fic for Love Me by JJ Heller, read about the intertwining lives between three souls, one a child abuse survivor, an ex-bulimic divorced wife and a convict.
My Bloody Valentine:
Based off of Good Charlotte's "My Bloody Valentine", this song-fic shows the lengths people will go to for love.
A poem based off of a popular writing style during the Renaissance.
Using a word generator for prompts on what to write.
Don't like gay marriage? Don't get one.
Don't like abortions? Don't have one.
Don't want your rights taken away? Don't take away theirs.
I'm glad to know that people view me as bullshit. That I can not love a transgender person, or a drag queen, or a hermaphrodite, or a transvestite, or anything other than a boy, or a girl. I'm so glad that all those people can never have love, in your view, until they are of one single gender, and one single gender only, no one can love them, because it will be bullshit.
I am the girl kicked out of her home because I confided in my mother that I am a lesbian.
I am the prostitute working the streets because nobody will hire a transsexual woman.
I am the sister who holds her gay brother tight through the painful, tear-filled nights.
We are the parents who buried our daughter long before her time, because even the teachers at her high school bullied her because she is dating a woman.
I am the man who died alone in the hospital because they would not let my partner of twenty-seven years into the room because he was male.
I am the foster child who wakes up with nightmares of being taken away from the foster parents who are the only loving family I have ever had. I wish they could adopt me, but they are not allowed because they are gay men.
I am one of the lucky ones, I guess. I survived the attack that left me in a coma for three weeks, and in another year I will probably be able to walk again. A group of men kicked me half to death because I love another man.
I am the sister who had to read the eulogy at my brothers funeral when he hung himself. My parents refused to go because he loved another man, and killed himself two weeks before he graduated because my father kicked him out and my mother refused to help him. I am the sister who left home with him, and because I choose right over my parents, I will never see them again.
We are the couple who had the realtor hang up on us when she found out we wanted to rent a one-bedroom for two men.
I am the person who never knows which bathroom I should use if I want to avoid getting the management called on me, because I am a transsexual male.
I am the mother who is not allowed to even visit the children I bore, nursed, and raised. The court says I am an unfit mother because I now live with another woman.
I am the female domestic-violence survivor who found the support system grow suddenly cold and distant when they found out my abusive partner is also a woman.
I am the father who has never hugged his son because I grew up afraid to show affection to other men.
I am the home-economics teacher who always wanted to teach gym until someone told me that only lesbians do that.
I am the man who died when the paramedics stopped treating me as soon as they realized I was transsexual.
I am the person who feels guilty because I think I could be a much better person if I did not have to always deal with society hating me, because I live with another woman.
I am the man who stopped attending church, not because I don't believe, but because they closed their doors to my kind, the kind who love “the wrong sex“.
I am the person who has to hide what this world needs most, love.
I am the person who is afraid of telling his loving Christian parents he loves another male.