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Poor Saul... "What are you doing?"Poor Saul... by ~padda-daah
"What does it look like I'm doing?"
"Would I be asking if I knew the answer?"
"If you're strange, maybe." Rasui grinned. "I'm setting it up so any one walking through here ain't coming out again."
Kurt's eyes widened. "Is that really necessary?"
"No. But it is fun."
"Rasui, it'll take their foot off!"
"I know from personal experience that that won't happen. The worst that can happen is a severed Achilles tendon and a few broken bones. Any one caught in one of these can beg for help or let it get infected. But we'll get them out before that happens."
Kurt rolled his eyes. "Only if Zita forces you to."
Rasui grinn
Mystery intro "Promise me you won't give up."Mystery intro by ~padda-daah
The man addressed only put his head in his hands, shaking it.
"I don't make promises I can't keep, Emily."
"But you can't give up!"
"And why not?"
"You just can't! Mom needs you—"
"Emily, what your mother needs is to die."
Emily gasped, "Daddy!"
"She does, Emms. She's only in pain. She's not getting any better—"
"But she can, Daddy! She can get better! We just need to pray more. God can fix it, Daddy!" Emily was nearing tearful hysterics.
"You're assuming there even is a god, Emms."
The young girl's mouth hung open in shock. Tears welled in her eyes, flowing freely as she spoke in a frightened,
When You Die, Say Goodbye When You Die, Say goodbye, Your Time Is UpWhen You Die, Say Goodbye by ~padda-daah
say goodbye with a dieing grace,
breath the words with flagging strength
mutter your last fond farewell
scream the precursor agonies of hell
rattle your chains and rasp your chants
traipse the halls in folds of glow
mist about were mortals dwell
chime the single lonely bell
dance the dust beneath dead feet
leave the tracks living shall greet
with a shock of horrified curiosity
to blanch their faces breathless,
send a shiver through their knees
haunt the ones you knew and loved
mirror the cries of the woeful mourning dove
frequent the doors of your lovers' homes
chilling their
Turning TurningTurning by ~padda-daah
the suffering is musical,
the pain scintillating
a cry of agony
raises the cacophony
to an alluringly unbearable pitch
but the sweetness of death,
the relief from life
is so precious
it in itself is something to behold
the cold is inviting,
welcoming in its frigid embrace
it cools the fever,
soothes the diseased flesh
with the finish is relief,
the one horror done with,
in the past;
a future awaits
that is beyond pleasure,
a gruesome paradise
of blood
and lust
Sta.sh
Promiscuous 
How have you been?
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Call me Jack! I am also the Last Gherkin! Request policy? DON'T ASK!
Hey, you. You, reading this. You're best pony. But let's keep it between us, OK...?
Thanks for the
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"But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams."
Yeats
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Thanks to =easywhisper for the icon.
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How do I inject dignity into the word help? - Illya Kuryakin
Member of ~poseraddicts
My Content Dealer for 3D....
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"And he pushed them
And they flew"