"The View From Hell"

#1-

"Somebody Help Me, Hell Has Finally Taken Me"

(Haha)

This is basically a love letter to myself I guess, but rosy palms is a good friend so it's all good. . .LOL

So The Hunter & The Hunted is supposed to be turned into this fuck-awesome book or whatever, and so far it has plagued and chased me like a killer who goes after the dumb blond chick who gets nailed first in a horror movie because. . .well. . .she got nailed first. . .

Well, I've always had the tendency to take things to the extreme-and this has been no different-so I've had to sacrifice some things in the process.


#1-
I've had to switch from the excessive joy of watching countless hours of midget porn. :(
I have now downsized to dwarfs. *sigh*

#2-

I've had to forgo watching my favorite manasexual couple get it on, on QAF reruns, so I have switched to wandering into the men's section of Hollister and crossing my fingers...O_0




#3-My Looks


This is how I look on a good day. . .minus the glamorous neck beads. . .

But that's the price to pay. . .and this is only the beginning. . .:O

But I love what I do and I've always been a kinky ass masochist. So BRING IT!!!


Peace,
XOXO

P.S. If you have any flares please donate, I can shoot them off when I want notify people that I'm still alive and not frozen in a chamber with Walt Disney or something. . .

TH&TH Chapter 44 Teaser

Err...sorry I have been so fail lately...but been kind of blocked. But I offer penance!!! A chapter 44 (part 3) teaser from Ruhnezmay POV!!!

Love me again??? ;)



RPOV
The blues are because you're getting fat and maybe it's been raining too long, you're just sad that's all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of. Do you ever get that feeling?- Breakfast at Tiffany’s


　

　

Bent or broken

It’s the family tree Bent or broken

It’s the family tree

Each branch a part of a part of me

This is my tree

And it’s a beautiful tree



Dwarf or giant

It’s the family tree

Dwarf or giant

It’s the family tree

Growing just as tall as it was meant to be

This is your tree

And it’s a beautiful tree



What a beautiful tree



Strong or fragile

It’s the family tree

Strong or fragile

It’s the family tree

See how the sun shines through the leaves

This is our tree

And it’s a beautiful tree

What a beautiful tree



Sure, it’s broken

But it’s the family tree

Sure, it’s broken

But it’s the family tree

I can feel the sap running through me

This is my tree

And it’s a beautiful tree

　

"Stop being greedy, bitch," giggles Spencer in her naturally raspy American accent as I take the second deep hit off of the small, but colorful bowl we have been passing back and forth between us for the past fifteen minutes.

"Jesus fuck man, it’s my shit!" I shout over the music that blares out of the speakers of her cheap CD player that resides in the corner of our very small room. The room, which of course smells like an ash tray, and also has such grand features cracked yellow wallpaper and uncomfortable bunk beds that can fuck up your back in one night. I pass her the bowl like the generous bitch I am, smirking as I watch her take her hit off of it reverently like the adorable-in a lost puppy kind of way- mooching whore she is.

"Happy now?" I ask as she hands the bowl over to me again, reaching for the little plastic baggie at my side and refilling it with more shit.

　

It is so strange how I still prefer to dwell in shit holes like this considering how much money I have come into these past few months. That I feel most comfortable in this rundown Youth Hostel close to Head Royce that costs twenty-one dollars per night in favor of something grander in some tight arse neighborhood filled to the brim with people with their heads stuck up those very arses.

I guess you can take the bitch out of the Orphanage, but can’t take the Orphan out of the bitch.

I enjoy the cloudiness of mind the pot provides as I take another hit and hand it back over to the blonde hair blue-eyed girl that looks like the picture of innocence, but is one of the wildest bitches I have ever crossed paths with.

But I know she has a good heart deep down.

I know this because I kind have had this weird arse sixth sense/semi psychic shit going on since I was a kid. It is like information about whatever or whoever surrounds me pours into my head in this really fucking aggravating rapid succession. It all comes in so fast, that it takes everything in you to not blurt it all out as it rudely invades your head space.

But smoking like his helps. Altering my mind and making me feel as if I’m stealing the wheel for awhile and calling the shots.

But when the information wants in, it gets in, and there is no stopping it.

Spencer is a perfect example. As soon as I laid my eyes on her I picked up that she is a runaway from California who has kicked around with various dickheads of the male population, and found herself in London after five months of this, completely unplanned. She went to mass once with she was a child, but hardly recalls it, although she thinks of-the pieces she remembers-as a fond childhood memory. Her dad is a drunk, her mum bailed, and she is going to have four kids and die at fifty-four.

Harsh, I know.

Then there is the way I can make people see things I want them to see by simply touching them. I could use that ability to make Spencer-or anyone if the mood strikes me- see rainbows and sunshine right now, but I don’t particularly enjoy tampering with peoples’ minds like that for my own amusement.

So I’ve learned to keep things like this to myself in favor of scenarios like being gawked at like the biggest fucking freak in all of the UK, or being hauled off to some lab and be experimented on by creepy Scientists.

　

　

To my own credit, I haven’t been wrong once in sixteen years. And it actually comes in handy once in awhile, weeding out the twats from the good people of the world with just once glance or touch. Although it kind of gives an air of snobbery when you blow off someone you were introduced two minutes ago.

But all of it is so hard to describe. . .some people just give off good energy and bad energy the first time you meet them, and I can pick up on it no matter how harmless or sweet their outward appearance perceives them to be more than others can.

And I can’t even describe my mind hijacking capabilities without internally cringing.

Needless to say, it is hard to put off pulling the people with the good vibes into a hug and telling them how great it is to meet them without looking like a complete nutter.

This is the very same energy that lead me to seeking out that Bella Swan bird-and led me to Head Royce from Ireland to London in the first place.

All it took was a good bribe from ‘parents’ to get the greedy bastards to grovel at my feet, thus giving me free reign.

The girl had that fantastic energy that the kindest people give off that lead me to want to share some ace things with her. So before I fully comprehend how much of a fucking limb I was putting myself on, I was showing her the arboretum I stumbled upon on my nosy late night exploration of that shithole.

Admittedly, it was all in a vain effort to make her comfortable by sharing something with her and hoping she would divulge whatever information she must have held in assisting me in return. Perhaps explain why that age old instinct was pulling me to her.


But the girl is like a fucking fortress of solitude, asking more questions than she gives answers. I thought I might have been onto something right away when like she looked at me like she had just had laid her eyes on a ghost of the present, but no such luck.

It led to nothing, didn’t help my search one bit. Maybe I am losing my fucking touch just when I fucking need the fucking fuckery.

　

I’ve feel bad for avoiding Bella Swan the last few days. . . but it’s for the best. She is a good, sweet person, whereas I am just a sad Orphan.

It’s just how the cards were dealt.

The way I hear it is that my Mother gave me up for adoption when I was only one years-old to keep some boy toy around who wasn’t my Father. My actual Father was some older rich man she had been wed to for ten years before she got pregnant and they both decided they hated each other and had no use for me as a blatant, bloody reminder of that fact.

　

I doubt anyone in society ever knew the she was with child-heartless bitch.

So, off to the shitty Orphanages and foster homes Nez went. Practically touring all of Ireland in the process, nobody wanting to adopt a little bastard with a smart mouth, bad attitude, and raging trust issues.

Then I soon as I turned sixteen I got the surprise of my young life

"TH&TH chapter 41 teaser!"

That unfamiliar-but vastly becoming familiar-sense of fear creeps up my spine at hearing that particular threat.

Please, God. Anything but that.


“You cannot be that cruel.”

“Once again you underestimate me, Mr. Cullen.”

“B-but...it is horrid.” I stammer, taken aback by how My Obsession can be just as horribly ruthless as me. “It is almost demonic, maîtresse. Please no.”


“It’s reality.” She sighs. She is feigning regret, acting as if this is not beyond sadistic as she pressing the button and proceeds to make my ears bleed.



Every night in my dreams
I see you. I feel you.
That is how I know you go on.

Far across the distance
And spaces between us
You have come to show you go on.



It practically physically burns my ears to hear this woman sing. It is a musical monstrosity, holds more evil in it with every passing note.




Near, far, wherever you are
I believe that the heart does go on
Once more you open the door
And you're here in my heart, and
My heart will go on and on.

Love can touch us one time
And last for a lifetime
And never let go till we're gone.




“FOR THE LOVE OF THE ANTI-CHRIST MAKE IT STOP!” I cry, grabbing two fistfuls of my own hair in my palms. “I will take you to bloody Pluto if you wish, just turn it off!”


“Okay.” She smiles Impishly, shutting off that vial song at last. “So tomorrow night?”

What she just did was so vindictive, so cunningly cruel, with such absolute disregard for me and my wishes.


There is no other individual on the planet better suited for me than she.

"The Hunter & The Hunter" Banner!!!

Chapter 40 teaser

I write a Twilight fanfic called 'The Hunter & The Hunted' on Fanfiction.net and if you don't like that you can shove!

I wave my Twilight freak flag proudly!

Anyways...here's a teaser for chapter 40 (yet to have a title)

*Points* New girl:





*************************************************************************************

Now Miss Swan.... let me take that from you." Here I sit in the Headmaster's office with a defiant scowl on my face, having the silver letter opener I was just toying with taken off my hands. "Last time you sat in that chair we didn't exactly see eye to eye. And I think it's due to the fact that you seem to harbor some resentment toward the school."

That's the understatement of the century.

His office is the typical highest ranking school administrate's office, all wood paneling and uppity everything.

The man has been pacing back and forth in front of me with his hands clasped his back for at least five minutes now. And it's safe to say I'm a little anxious to be out of here, and way from this short, balding inconvenience, and all his pacing.

"So what if I do?" I shrug, slouching in the black leather chair I occupy. "Are you going to hook me up with some pom poms and have me cheer for the Cricket team?"

"Not exactly." He smirks slyly, perching on the edge of his immaculate desk, crossing his ankles and folding his arms over his chest. "I just want you to participate in some activity-well any activity really-involving Head Royce.

"Like what?" I ask, sitting up and narrowing my eyes at him, having the unshakable feeling that this is going to be just as ominous as it is sounding.

"Oh, settle down Miss Swan, today I just want you to give a new student a tour of the school." He say, in the saddest attempt of a sweet tone I have ever heard. "She is a bit of a handful like yourself, but she needs extra attention. Her parents and her have just relocated from Ireland to here, and have already become very generous contributors to the school."

"So you want me to show their bad seed around, so it reaches their ears and shows how you guys go the extra mile?" I snort, officially done with beating around the bush. "And none of you are brave enough to bite the bullet and do it yourselves?"

"Of course not, Miss Swan." He replies, pretending to sound insulted. "I just want you to fell like you're apart of this school."

I think about just telling the snobby bastard to just shove it, and screw him and his school but...I can't. I need to be here for Jake and I need to prove that I can go toe to toe with these elitist snobs and make it out unscathed.

"Who is she?" I ask apprehensively, still scowling even though I've pretty much admitted defeat. "How old is she?"

"She is in your same grade I believe, but skipped a year." He mutters, walking over to the other side of his desk and quickly glancing through a manila folder. "Her name is Ruhnezmay O'Culhoon , sixteen years-old, quite and the colorful past."

Uh oh.

"Send her in." I gesture him with a wave of my hand, silently telling him to get on with it.

"Quite right. Marion, can you please send in Miss. O'Culhoon please?" He says as he presses the button on his little intercom, calling to the woman who manages the offices front desk.

"Yes, Sir." Sings the woman.

I turn my head as I hear the door slowly opening, trying to stifle the gasp that wants to escape when I see the little figure standing in it.

"Whoa." I exclaim a little too loudly.


Ruhnezmay, wears heavy black eye liner, blood red lipstick, fishnet stockings with her uniform skirt, tall Gothic style boots, and stacks of studded and spiked pyramid cuff bracelets, and a few inches taller than me.

But the way she dresses is not what has me staring at her like a mental patient right now.

No.

Not at all.

It's just that....she looks so much like Edward.



"What are you staring at?" Asks the figure with the hint of an Irish accent, clearly annoyed by my bizarre rudeness.

"Miss Swan...are you okay?" Chimes in the Headmaster as I continue to stare on at the young stranger.
It is not like I don't know I have to stop staring at this girl before she becomes extremely put off by me and calls Dateline. But I just...can't.




She still has a bit of a baby face, and shiny bronze-colored hair-almost as long mine-that waves softly at the ends-but you can tell she styles it to get a more piecey, bed head affect-her nose...all of her features really look so much like Edward's. Even her eyes are an exact duplicate of his when he was human.

And the way she is glaring at me finally shows me what being on the receiving end of one Edward's death glare's is like.

"I'm sorry." I mumble, shaking my head to clear it. "You just remind me of someone."


"Yeah, well that's nice." She says in a snobby tone, occupying herself by inspecting her fingernails. "Can we just get this ridiculous tour of this stuffy, rotting, rathole over with?"

"The Family" (And not the cool Italian kind that whacks people)

My family members are a little...quirky.

So I must share with you at least once a week how a typical conversation goes with them.

This week the spotlight will be on my dad!!!




My dad is very,very sweet dude...but...he just has a little problem with tact...

For example: I make the grave mistake of asking him how an outfit looks...which never goes well.

You see my style leans more toward the Bohemian way...

But seeing as I am part Cuban and part Puerto Rican that is not exactly the norm...

So here it goes!!

Me: "Dad how do I look?"

Asshat: "Okay, I guess?"

Me: "What's wrong?"

Asshat: "It's just...why can't you dress more like the other Spanish girls around here?"

"You know...wear a lot of makeup."




"Some big hair or something."



"Fix or paint your paint your finger nails"



"Wear high heels"


"Wear some big earrings."



"Just...dress like a Spanish girl."



"And go out in the sun some time, you're as white as a ghost!"



Asshat:"But that looks nice I guess."



Me:*Mouth gapes open*


And that is my spotlight family moment of the week!!!

"The Care Bear Hymen Unveiled"

The Care Bear . . .









To most people an adorable childhood cartoon or cuddly stuffed animal that they snuggled with at night . . .








To me . . . a deeply disturbed nineteen-year-old girl whose parents let her watch "Striptease" at age five






. . . hiding dark secrets.



It all began here . . .











And ii MAY or may NOT have been five in the morning, when I unearthed a dark secret in the form of a pink bubble.





Picture it!

I’m talking about ordinary, everyday things, like what is the official medical term for people to attempt to have sex with trees?










What is the official medical term for those who are attracted to fart’s?






And how unsatisfying midget porn is when THIS came on the screen in the form of an avatar!!!







That image brought one of the brightest moments of clarity of my existence.










THAT.IS.WHAT.A.CARE.BEAR.HYMEN.WOULD.LOOK.LIKE!!!!!

I shared my epiphany with everyone, but they didn’t listen. All they could see were clouds, rainbows, obese multicolored bears with sweet smiles, and thinly veiled homoerotic themes.







All they see are Funshine Bear and his lies . . .

But I know the truth!

Some people have a cherry . . .








And some mass marketed, eighties cartoon, multimillion dollar earning trademarks have BUBBLES . . .












Put that in your back pocket and smoke it.