iphigenia: (Default)
( Jul. 9th, 2020 03:24 pm)
Friends only. Try your luck.
iphigenia: (Default)
( Mar. 27th, 2020 03:13 pm)
This journal is friends only.

If you wish to be added, you may leave a comment and I will consider adding you.

However, I'm trying to keep this to a small, close community of people I know and trust.

I used to be moreso into pouring my heart out to total strangers.

My heart has decided that's no longer what it desires. So I am putting a barbwire fence up around it.

If we seem to have stuff in common or you're a friend of a trusted friend and I get a good vibe from you, it's highly likely I shall add you, though.

Ooh. Like, lucky you.

Note: If I've already added you, it's because we were friends in my past...er....incarnation. If you add me back, it will all become clear..hehe... =)
They never talk about the things they do in the dark. That would make it real. The next morning, it feels like part of her dreams. She wants to mean nightmares, but she can't. And anyway her life has been a nightmare for so long, it's hard to differentiate things anymore - pleasure or self destruction, desire or depravity. How does one even know what sane is when their world has been fucked up as long as they can remember? Surreal levels of fucked up. Maybe this is exactly what she should be doing. She kind of wants to laugh.

"Did you sleep well?" Hannah asks over breakfast, with a slight smirk. Too early for sparkly-eyed and smiles and even conversation really, as far as Deb's concerned. Of course Hannah is fresh-faced and glowy in grey yoga pants and a thin white tank top. She's already cooked up a four-course breakfast. It smells delicious, but Deb just drinks her coffee, hair in her face feet up on her chair. "Like a fucking baby." And she did. Hannah had completely and utterly exhausted her. As usual.
"Good." Now she smiles benignly, the patron fucking saint of serial killers and Martha Stewart Living.

The first time the slender blonde crawled in bed with her, she had pretended to be asleep. She had wanted to shout "Are you fucking kidding me?" but something stopped her. The feel of another warm body in her bed after so long. There was something comforting about it. And she was part of Dexter now, in his heart. And maybe this was as close as it got for them, so she accepted it. Hannah smelled like expensive lotions, exotic flowers, luxury and escape. "I want us to be friends, Debra" Hannah whispered in the dark, clasping her arm and squeezing it gently. "Good friends." She buried her face in Deb's neck and shortly after, Deb heard the soft, even breathing of sleep.


This is how she has him now, tracing trails with her fingertips over soft skin, all the places his hands have touched, rounding over curves of breasts and hips and thigh, lush hills and sloping valleys, imagining. It's not about Hannah, it can't be. She just wants to understand, to feel what he feels. For her part, Hannah doesn't say a word, patient with Deb's explorations, only sighing or a sharp intake of breath, a shiver here and there, as she lies bare and exposed beneath Deb's clumsy fingers.

Until now, it's only been Hannah in control, perfectly manicured fingers plunged deep inside her or deft little tongue bringing her to the edge and leaving her there, Hannah watching her whimper and tremble (but never begging- never that), until finally she pushes her over...and over and over, Deb thrashing and screaming and blinking back tears. This is what she needs- release, catharsis. The only thing that helps her sleep. Only then will Hannah stroke her hair softly, almost maternally, hold her and kiss her sweetly.

"You're thinking about Dexter touching me right now, aren't you?" Hannah says more like a sentence then a question.

Something about this strange switch of roles or the darkness makes Deb honest. "Yeah."

"Does that turn you on?" she asks seriously.

"Fuck-no! God…"

"I think it does," Hannah says softly, guiding Deb's hesitant hand into the slick wetness between her thighs. "You could come with us," she sighs.

"No!" Deb pulls her hand away. "That's not what this is!"

"So what is it then?"

"I just need to get off now and then. Fuck!! Just because you haven't tried to kill me over the past couple of weeks doesn't mean I'm your girlfriend now. Or your friend for that matter."

Hannah sighs. "You're right. It was a foolish thing to suggest. I'm sorry."

They lie in silence for a minute and it is everything Deb can do not to reach out and touch her, run her fingers through her silky hair, kiss her hard and deep and wet, erase this conversation, melt away into her until this...until nothing is real anymore.
The smoke burns your lungs sweetly and you feel an unexpected calm wash over you, reminding you of more innocent, less complicated days you wish you could return to. You almost want to laugh, it's all so ridiculous. Your eyes are closed and her lips are on yours so fast, you have no time to react. you feel yourself responding, kissing back, her fingers tangling in your hair. physical affection you have yearned for, longing for touch you have choked back, like taking a sip of water and suddenly realizing you are parched. The night and the lights and the pot making it all feel like a dream- a good one with soft lips that taste faintly of vanilla and mint pressing into yours.
When you open your eyes, she looks so young and the horror overtakes you. You jolt back to reality, hard crashing against cold cement.She doesn't pull back, just stands there, looming over you, her hand on your shoulder."I like girls," she says finally. Her eyes stare right into yours, challenging, waiting. She shrugs. "Secret's out."It's too much information and your head is full of clouds, heavy smog. "But I'm your…" The irony hits you fast and this time you finally do laugh. It feels good, a release.  Now she backs away, stung. "We're not really related."
"Nothing…it's just…" Is this how strange it sounded to him? Stranger even than inside your own head?
You try to clear your head, greedily gulping up the humid night air. "It's cool that you like girls. I mean, it's not a big deal."
"Yeah, right." She rolls her eyes. "Try explaining that to my grandparents. They found me once… with a friend. They didn't say anything, just acted like it never happened. But now they can't even look at me. They think I'm a total freak."
Everything you can think of to say sounds like some stupid cliche "it gets better" video, although, coming from you that would be fucking hilarious, since you can't imagine that being anyone's experience, no matter who they're into fucking. Your life has definitely gotten progressively worse, year by year.
"Anyway," she continues sullenly, "It's not like it matters. Like I have a girlfriend or anything. The only girl I really like has a boyfriend. She just uses me when she's drunk. And I do everything for her. I tried to protect her from her stepdad before he left. I'm always there when she's upset. I don't understand how none of that can count for anything. Like all that matters is he's hot. Even though he's a total douchebag."
Yes, you know exactly how she feels. So much so hearing her speak it aloud is jarring and almost sets you off crying again. Because you are not sexy. Not like she is. You don't wear little dresses or play at being innocent and girly. Your hair isn't golden and your eyes aren't sky blue and you are not lacy bras and perfume, not manis and pedis and waxed all over. You are just you and you can't compete with that.
"I'm not in love with you or anything like that, don't worry," she says quickly looking at the floor. Oh good. Because you know that would be awkward. "I just really like you, I always have. You're smart and funny and you don't take any shit from anybody. And you looked really beautiful for a second. And sad. I couldn't stop myself. I mean, you always look beautiful though." She doesn't look tough or jaded or cynical anymore. She looks vulnerable. Her face rendered angelic, ivory in moonlight, and she's looking down and you know exactly how this feels so you go to her and hug her tight and you need the embrace as much as she does. And she thinks you are beautiful even on a night like this one.
He is firm, rough hands and hot, whiskey breath, a roller coaster plunge into darkness. His kisses taste like regret, despair, but his fingers push their way inside you, a sweetly throbbing ache, and your heart races and your blood sings.   He isn't gentle, but you didn't expect he would be.  There was warning in his eyes as you let your clothes fall to the floor, offering yourself up like a prize, feeling like a stupid little girl, awkward, embarrassed. His eyes drank you in, lingered on your breasts, your thighs and he sneered and told you to go. But you don't follow orders. 
Originally posted by [livejournal.com profile] eilowyn at All U.S. Internet Providers will be policing downloads by July 12, 2012

(this is an edited version of [livejournal.com profile] lk737's post here)

According to this article, dated March 15, 2012:

"File-sharers, beware: By July 12, major US Internet service providers (ISPs) will voluntarily begin serving as copyright police for the entertainment industry, according to Cary Sherman, chief executive of the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA). The so-called “six-strikes” plan is said to be one of the most effective anti-piracy efforts ever established in the US."

The article goes on to give details. After six notices, internet providers will decide to throttle a person's internet speed, or cut it off altogether. No more downloading eps of your favorite shows for vidding, gifs, or fanfiction art. No more downloading screencaps possibly.

Fox news confirms this:

Youtube video explaining this:

For the record, I'm far more worried about the constant surveillance and the record being kept of everywhere I go online than I am about getting caught taking copy written stuff.

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NO...a lie is defined as a false statement.  But, depending on what you're omitting, it could be a crap thing to do.
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Snake! also my moon cycle totem animal.
Heart reptiles!
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I love them both very much equally.
Hooker: Think yourself smart. I wish it was me. Take for your head and be who you wanna be.
Alice: But how can I be who I wanna be when I am who I am?
Caterpillar: When memories come back, some you keep and some you trash in the can.
Hooker: You've been dealt the cards, just rearrange the deal.
Alison: You're so interesting, Wes. It's like time doesn't matter to you.

Wes: Are you kidding me? Things go by so fast…I don't get it.

Alison: Yeah, but it doesn't freak you out. You're so patient, so calm. I don't know. I mean sometimes you're really quiet and you get this look on your face like time doesn't exist. That's how you make me feel, like I have all the time in the world because time doesn't exist. It's nice. Thank you.

Alison: I don't like change, it's very disorienting. I mean something changes in your life andyou have adapt which means you have to change but what if i like who i am and don't want to change? Sometimes I cant even tell if I'm moving forward or I'm like frozen. It makes me feel like I'm not in control of my life…it's kinda scary don't you think?

Wes: It's not that bad…being scared doesn't mean you're in a bad situation, it just means new things are coming your way. It depends on how you see your future i guess.

Alison: What do you mean?

Wes: Do you see it as this thing far, far away full of ideals and wonderful impossible things or do you see it as the next hour, the next moment?

Alison: Does it really matter?

Wes: I think so. One definitely feels better than the other.

that awkwardly narcissistic moment when you're watching a film and are fairly convinced someone's based a character off you.

The sorting hat says that I belong in Hufflepuff!

Said Hufflepuff, "I'll teach the lot, and treat them just the same."

Hufflepuff students are friendly, fair-minded, modest, and hard-working. A well-known member was Cedric Diggory, who represented Hogwarts in the most recent Triwizard Tournament.


Take the most scientific Harry Potter
Quiz ever created.

Get Sorted Now!

However, my scores for other houses:

Slytherin: 71! lol
Ravenclaw: 62
Gryffindor: 43
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iphigenia: (text; no idea)
( Aug. 30th, 2011 08:27 pm)
Career Inventory Test Results

Extroversion |||||||||||| 40%
Emotional Stability |||||||||||| 33%
Orderliness |||||||||||| 33%
Altruism |||||||||||||||||| 56%
Inquisitiveness ||||||||||||||| 50%

You are an Idealist, possible professions include - information-graphics designer, college professor, researcher, legal mediator, social worker, holistic health practitioner, occupational therapist, diversity manager, human resource development specialist, employment development specialist, minister/priest/rabbi, missionary, psychologist, writer
Take Free Career Test
Personality Test by SimilarMinds.com
iphigenia: (skins; cassie (dream))
( Jul. 24th, 2011 12:46 am)
Your rainbow is strongly shaded violet.


What is says about you: You are a creative person. You appreciate beauty and craftsmanship. You are patient and will keep trying to understand something until you've mastered it.

Find the colors of your rainbow at spacefem.com.

iphigenia: (glee; brittana)
( Jun. 22nd, 2011 05:36 pm)
Last night I dreamed an entire "Glee" episode and it was this about everyone was having an "off" day and where everything felt wrong and everything was going wrong and they were all doubting themselves about various things  and they were each singing original songs about it which i woke up with some of them in my head (pieces of the songs and the scenes etc.)

Brittany was singing to a stuffed bear in her room and then she hugged the bear and was like “oh! I feel better now!” and then was her normal self, but everyone else was still dragging for most of the ep.

It was really cool though odd.
Cassie: I want you to tell me!

Lawes: What?

Cassie: How to stop bad things happening.

Lawes: Doesn’t work, does it? That’s why you have to start eating again.

Cassie: … I fell in love.

Lawes: Ah, love. Why cut yourself when you can be in love?

Cassie: You think passing an exam will make me happy?

Lawes: Cassie, passing exams generally only makes life more complicated, but there’s lots of other stuff that makes things bearable, and you don’t even have to use a knife.

Cassie: … Like?

Lawes: Disco.

(Then they dance.)


I think about this scene pretty much every day of my life. I think it’s my favorite scene ever from a tv show or the one that’s resonated most deeply with me, anyway, because 1. it’s made me feel the most understood and 2. it’s brought me the most comfort. Also, I think it’s kind of the best summing up/illustration of (at least my interpretation of) Zen philosophy that I’ve ever seen in any form of media, and it kind of gets to the heart of the show in that through all of the horrible shit the characters go through, they always ultimately seem to find a way to enjoy life and each other and being in the moment (through being in the moment?)
iphigenia: (Default)
( May. 13th, 2011 05:25 am)
Comment and I will comment back with a picture of the fictional character that most reminds me of you. Then post the same in your journal.


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