AnnaNero
 Author has written 2 stories for Bleach. BIG THX 2 MY BETA rm928!! Hello There I know you probably don't care, but here's a little about me Name: Anna (but you can call me whatever) Age: I'm 17 Gender: female My favorite color: blue and purple My fav animal: wolf My fav anime: Bleach(Yeaz!!), Blood , Black Butler, Chobits, Code Geass, Deathnote, D.N Angel, DBZ, Fairy Tail, Final Fantasy, Fruits Baskets, Fullmetal Alchemist, Ghost in the Shell 1st & 2nd GiG, Gun X Sword (Grimmjow fans should be ALL OVER this!!!!) , .hack/SIGN, Hellsing, Hellsing Ultimate, Hetalia, Inuyasha, Invader Zim (I consider it as one!) Kukkakku, Lucky Star, Naruto, Ouran High School Host Club, Sailor Moon, Soul Eater, Trigun, Trinity Blood, Wolf's Rain, Vampire Knight, Yu-Gi-Oh And so many more, but I can't really remember all of them right now My fav game: Call of Duty: Black Ops, Devil May Cry 3 & 4, Resident Evil: The Umbrella Chronicles, Resident Evil: The Darkside Chronicles, and Resident Evil 4 wii edition, Resident Evil 6, The Cat Lady, DeadPool My fav drink: water and chocolate milk (cuz I'm kool lik dat! Lolz) My fav food: ballpark nachos, tostinos cheese pizza, spagetti My fav movie: Underworld, Van Helsing, Resident Evil, X-Men, Yu-Gi-Oh: Bonds Before Time My fav book: Daughter of the Flames and ALL manga and anime books. My fav bands: Breaking Benjamin, Broken Iris, Celldweller, Blue Stahli, Skillet, Evanescence, Disturbed, Saliva, Nickelback, Godsmack, Eyeshine, Ke$ha, Katy Perry Krewella, Excision, Skrillex... My fav songs (at the monent): Brutal - Excision, Master Chief Vs. Leonidas - ERBOH, Make A Sentence: BIRTHDAY GAME Pick the month you were born on... 1(Jan) - I shot Pick the day (number) you were born on... 1 - a rock star Pick the color of shirt you are wearing...
White - because I'm sexy like that I smoked with... Paris Hilton...because the gummy bears made me Less than 20 = seme 01-[ ] You like to be content in everything. I'm 20 sO wHaT dOeS tHaT mAkE mE STERYOTYPE GAME Bold the ones that fit you I'M SKINNY, so I MUST be anorexic. I'm POPULAR, so I MUST be a bitch. I'm ARAB, so I MUST be a terrorist. I have no FACEBOOK, so I MUST have no friends. I'm IRISH, so I MUST have a bad drinking problem. I'm a PUNK, so I MUST do drugs. I FELL IN LOVE WITH A MARRIED MAN, so I MUST be a home-wrecking whore. I'm INTO THEATER & ART, so I MUST be a homosexual. I'm GERMAN, so I MUST be a Nazi. I'm a STONER, so I MUST be going in the wrong direction. I'm SINGLE so I MUST be ugly. I'm sort of GOTH, so I MUST worship the devil. I'm EMO, so I MUST cut my wrists. I have ARTISTIC TALENT, so I MUST think little of those who don't. I’m a YOUNG WRITER, so I MUST be emo. I have a FAN CHARACTER, so I MUST be an annoying Mary-sue. I am QUIET and POLITE, so I MUST be a pushover. LoLcAkEz!! 10 Commandments of a Teenager 1) Thou shall not sneak out when parents are sleeping. A girl and guy were speeding over 100mph on a motorcycle Girl: Slow down, I'm scared! Guy: No, this is fun. Girl: No, it's not. Please, I'm scared. Guy: Then tell me you love me. Girl: I love you, you know that, now slow down! Guy: Now give me a big hug. She gives him a big hug Guy: Can you take off my helmet and put it on yourself, it's bothering me. In the newspaper the next day, a motorcycle had crashed into a building because of break failure. Two people were on it and only one survived. The truth was that halfway down the road, the guy realized his break wasn't working but he didn't want the girl to know. Instead he had her hug him and tell him one last time that she loved him. Then he had her put on his helmet so that she would live even if he died. Copy this onto your profile if you would do the same thing for someone you love. Child abuse is wrong, and it happens to too many kids in the world. Although people outside of the beatings can't really relate to it, we're trying. Just remember, we're always trying. Her name was Dailey Her dad was a drunk Her only friend She always talked to it Until her parents A bruise on her leg But she grabs her bear She sits in the corner Such a bad life Then one night Then her mom suddenly She thrusted the blade The mom walked out Police showed up One officer slowly It must have been bad Dailey is just one of millions of children who are victims of child abuse. If you are trying to relate on any scale of compassion for Dailey, copy and paste this onto your profile, please. SARAH'S STORY My name is Sarah I am but three, My eyes are swollen I cannot see, I must be stupid I must be bad, What else could have made My daddy so mad? I wish I were better I wish I weren't ugly, Then maybe my mommy Would still want to hug me. I can't speak at all I can't do a wrong Or else I'm locked up All the day long When I awake I'm all alone The house is dark My folks aren't home. When my mommy does come I'll try and be nice, So maybe I'll get just One whipping tonight Don't make a sound! I just heard a car My daddy is back From Charlie's Bar. I hear him curse My name he calls I press myself Against the wall. I try and hide From his evil eyes I'm so afraid now I'm starting to cry. He finds me weeping He shouts ugly words, He says its my fault That he suffers at work. He slaps me and hits me And yells at me more, I finally get free And I run for the door. He's already locked it And I start to bawl, He takes me and throws me Against the hard wall. I fall to the floor With my bones nearly broken, And my daddy continues With more bad words spoken. "I'm sorry!", I scream But its now much too late His face has been twisted Into unimaginable hate. The hurt and the pain Again and again Oh please God, have mercy! Oh please let it end! And he finally stops And heads for the door, While I lay there motionless Sprawled on the floor. My name is Sarah And I am but three, Tonight my daddy, Murdered me. Child abuse, MAKE IT STOP! Hush, little sister I can see your arms I know you scream I can see the way I know that people Hey, little sister You see, little sister He screamed at me You know, little sister But hush, little sister I'm sorry little sister Uh oh little sister Hush little sister IF YOU ARE AGAINST CHILD ABUSE, COPY THAT POEM INTO YOUR PROFILE!! I was walking around in a Target store, when I saw a Cashier hand this little boy some money back. The boy couldn't have been more than 5 or 6 years old. The Cashier said, "I'm sorry, but you don't have enough money to buy this doll." Then the little boy turned to the old woman next to him: ''Granny, are you sure I don't have enough money?'' The old lady replied: ''You know that you don't have enough money to buy this doll, my dear.'' Then she asked him to stay there for just 5 minutes while she went to look a round. She left quickly. The little boy was still holding the doll in his hand. Finally, I walked toward him and I asked him who he wished to give this doll to. "It's the doll that my sister loved most and wanted so much for Christmas. She was sure that Santa Claus would bring it to her." I replied to him that maybe Santa Claus would bring it to her after all, and not to worry. But he replied to me sadly. "No, Santa Claus can't bring it to her where she is now. I have to give the doll to my mommy so that she can give it to my sister when she goes there." His eyes were so sad while saying this. "My Sister has gone to be with God. Daddy says that Mommy is going to see God very soon too, so I thought that she could take the doll with her to give it to my sister.'' My heart nearly stopped. The little boy looked up at me and said: "I told daddy to tell mommy not to go yet. I need her to wait until I come back from the mall." Then he showed me a very nice photo of him where he was laughing. He then told me "I want mommy to take my picture with her so she won't forget me. " "I love my mommy and I wish she doesn't have to leave me, but daddy says that she has to go to be with my little sister." Then he looked again at the doll with sad eyes, very quietly. I quickly reached for my wallet and said to the boy. "Suppose we check again, just in case you do have enough money for the doll?'' "OK" he said, "I hope I do have enough." I added some of my money to his without him seeing and we started to count it. There was enough for the doll and even some spare money. The little boy said: "Thank you God for giving me enough money!" Then he looked at me and added, "I asked last night before I went to sleep for God to make sure I had enough money to buy this doll, so that mommy could give It to my sister. He heard me!'' "I also wanted to have enough money to buy a white rose for my mommy, but I didn't dare to ask God for too much. But He gave me enough to buy the doll and a white rose.'' "My mommy loves white roses." A few minutes later, the old lady returned and I left with my basket. I finished my shopping in a totally different state from when I started. I couldn't get the little boy out of my mind. Then I remembered a local newspaper article two days ago, which mentioned a drunk man in a truck, who hit a car occupied by a young woman and a little girl. The little girl died right away, and the mother was left in a critical state. The family had to decide whether to pull the plug on the life-sustaining machine, because the young woman would not be able to recover from the coma. Was this the family of the little boy? Two days after this encounter with the little boy, I read in the newspaper that the young woman had passed away. I couldn't stop myself as I bought a bunch of white roses and I went to the funeral home where the body of the young woman was exposed for people to see and make last wishes before her burial. She was there, in her coffin, holding a beautiful white rose in her hand with the photo of the little boy and the doll placed over her chest. I left the place, teary-eyed, feeling that my life had been changed forever. The love that the little boy had for his mother and his sister is still, to this day, hard to imagine. And in a fraction of a second, a drunk driver had taken all this away from him. Now you have 2 choices: 1) Repost this message. 2) Ignore it as if it n ever touched your heart 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. I am the man who died alone in the hospital because they would not let my partner of twenty-seven years into the room. I am the foster child who wakes up with nightmares of being taken away from the two fathers who are the only loving family I have ever had. I wish they could adopt me. 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. I am not one of the lucky ones. I killed myself just weeks before graduating high school. It was simply too much to bear. 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. 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 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 domestic-violence survivor who has no support system to turn to because I am male. 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 didn't have to always deal with society hating me. I am the man who stopped attending church, not because I don't believe, but because they closed their doors to my kind. I am the person who has to hide what this world needs most, love. 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. I am the man who died alone in the hospital because they would not let my partner of twenty-seven years into the room. I am the foster child who wakes up with nightmares of being taken away from the two fathers who are the only loving family I have ever had. I wish they could adopt me. 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. I am not one of the lucky ones. I killed myself just weeks before graduating high school. It was simply too much to bear. 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. 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 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 domestic-violence survivor who has no support system to turn to because I am male. 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 didn't have to always deal with society hating me. I am the man who stopped attending church, not because I don't believe, but because they closed their doors to my kind. I am the person who has to hide what this world needs most, love |
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