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Summary to each page, I feel the need to do my part as a fan

I think the most brutal death in DC for me is.. the episode when Sonoko's sister will have a reunion with her college friends in their villa.. the victim on that episode was a girl and her body was chopped by parts, even the head xD Sorry for the bad english! Whats the most brutal death for u in DC?

Here, you basically post the name of the person above you, and choose an honorific based on how well you know the person or what you think of them. Here are the honorifics I know... ____-san: basic, for people you've just met or are being formally respectful towards. ____-sama: more respectful, this is used if you are a fan of someone, and it's high;y deferent. ____-han: Kansai-ben form of 'san.' It can be used the same way as it. ____-dono: used to show a high class, or high age in respect to the speaker. not commonly used. ____-sensei: used when speaking to teachers, doctors, and professionals. ____-shishou: used for a teacher or master in traditional arts, denotes extreme respect for the person. ____-kun: the most widely-used male honorific. It denotes friendship or a lower age. (it's used for girls of a lower age or class than yourself, to avoid the informality of 'chan' ____-chan: used toward girls, usually by girls, denoting closeness or endearment. Used for males it becomes disrespectful or derogative, unless the person is younger or extremely close to you. ____-chin: a very rarely used honorific that is more informal than 'chan.' usually used by girls to make pronunciation simpler, and to shorten a name. Ex: "Asami" would become "Asamin" ____-tan: a childish form of 'chan' usually a mispronounciation before becoming a habit. almost NEVER used by adults. ____-tama/chama: cutesy, chidish version of 'sama' ____-pyon: slang denoting closeness or a romantic relationship. ____-me: a sarcastic, derogatory honorific, rarely used. ____-senpai/sempai:used to denote the other person's seniority in school, age, or an activity. ____-kouhai: denotes your own seniority compared to your conversation partner. considered rude in many cases. ____-shi: an honorific used often in writing, for a person you are unfamiliar with. ____-aniki: a derisive or informal way of referring to someone as 'older brother' ____-hakase: used in speaking to a doctor or professor one has respect for. ____-niisan/neesan(or 'nii/neechan') used to refer to an older sibling, or sometimes a close relative. 'niichan/neechan' is a cute form of the honorific ____-jisan/basan (and jii/baasan); refers to and aunt or uncle. jii and baasan are used to refer to grandparents. ____-bozu: generally used toward young boys, it's the equivalent of 'squirt' in english. denotes childishness or youth ____-ojou(sama): literally 'Princess' used as a romantic or admiring honorific.

The instructions are in the description. Don't double post, or else... Oh yeah, you can make up your own if you don't want to do any of the three.

I added another one:

Took a couple of index cards and drew up an entry. Figured I'd show different expressions and angles, too. I gave him wings just because I felt like he needed them in his fighting form. (no idea why)

Rough translation for some directly BO-related parts:

Just a friendly reminder to everyone that religious and/or political discussion are both not a topic of discussion on this board. If you and another member start debating on either one of those two topics, then take it to a private message, because your moderators will not tolerate it a bit anymore. As you can see, it doesn't take too long before people start stepping on the toes of others. Henceforth, any more specific political or religious debating will be deleted and the users involved will be warned accordingly. Thank you for your time.

Hiii Snowflake I'm gonna be a bit lazy here and just paste you a link. Well laziness is the lesser part of it, but I think this article explains very well their usage, more than I could ever do. http://lang-8.com/90163/journals/538243 Just to say, for a lot of Japanese people, they probably won't be able to explain to this degree. They wouldn't have analysed this topic area like this, and their everyday use of "は" and "が" is mostly from habit and experience ever since they were born. P.S. If you are not proficient at kana/kanji, you might want to open Google Translate and turn on the "Read phonetically" option (press Ä symbol) as you're reading. Copy and paste the Japanese text into the box, translate from Japanese, and it will show you how to pronounce the sentence, since the author does not use Romanji in his examples. Please feel free to ask if there are outstanding bits you don't understand!

Yeah, I posted it in "Scary Ghost Stories," but I wanted to post it separately, so I could have a poll. Here it is: I am Gregory Davis. Every night, before the sun sets, I go around the house and check on every light. I lock the front and back doors and windows, close the shutters, open every door that doesn't lead outside, and ensure that there is no dark corner or shadow. In this house, there is a closet where I keep hundreds of lightbulbs, to replace the ones that I leave on all night. There will never be more than one lightbulb out of its socket at a time, and I will never turn out the lights. Every night, I sit on the empty floor of my room. I never get up to go to the mirrorless bathroom, because He would be there, waiting in the corners. I sit against the wall in my windowless bedroom and write. I write His death, over and over, in as many ways as I can think of. But I know He will never die. I made Him immortal, gave Him life and power. The power to haunt my dreams, to hunt down my weakness. But now, I am trying to free myself. I cannot leave the house, nor do I dare open the door, except between noon and one p.m, when I have food, writing materials and lightbulbs delivered, and send off my next manuscript, full of His influence. I don't hear the rumors that I'm insane, but I know they exist. Without a phone, or any electronics, I am cut off from their world, and trapped in mine alone. No, I can't say that. Because He is here, waiting for me to slip up. Always waiting... I sit here writing this, my final book of stories, in hopes that somewhere, someone will realize that it's all real. Ever since I wrote His name in that first book, He has haunted me, waiting in every dark space to jeer at me. His shapeless black form, like smoke, was once simply an idea. His red eyes, that burn like ice, rather than fire, once only a thought. But I gave Him a name, a form, and now I am hiding in the light. If ever I were to die, He would remain, waiting where the shadows meet for another to say his name. To believe is to give the beast power, but there is no way I can disbelieve. I have seen what He can do. That first night, my fear merely a suspicion that I wrote far too late into the night and needed rest, he came up beside the bed that no longer sits in my room with its walls of white. He looked me in the eyes, silent as death, and then glanced at my wife. She was hidden, I thought, by the shadow over her side of our bed. And I, I was merely dreaming, giving my monster a shape in my dazed mind. And yet, when He shifted, He had to tread around me, His fluid and translucent form sliding at the edge if the moonlight that leaked through our window. I was within the light, but she was not. He simply moved to her side and stared until she awoke, feeling the same freezing dread that I have felt every night since then. Her beautiful eyes, brown as the earth, darted to me and back to the monster, and she appeared to wonder whether we were sharing a nightmare. If I had known who He was, I would have pulled her away, far from his gaze. But I was in a dream, and nothing can hurt you when you're dreaming... or so I believed. He watched as her fear took over and she froze, her breath quickening until I thought her lungs would burst. Captivted by His horror, I was unable to move, to make a sound, to wake up. Sandra's eyes, no longer sparkling, changed slowly. Her pupils stretched across the iris, enveloping all the color they had held. But then the blackness glazed over both her eyes entirely, and I was horrified by her transformation as it continued. Her soft, pale hands twitched and became gnarled, arthritic claws, and her rosy cheeks became grey and sunken. Her hair morphed from its golden straw appearance and became matted and colorless, as black as the night, as he was. She turned to me, her mouth wide open in a silent scream of terror, and began to disappear. First, her feet and hands, then her legs, arms, waist, and torso. The last thing to vanish was the image branded on my mind: Her face, distorted in mortal fear, slowly disappeared, her eyes staring into mine until every last bit of her was gone. When I broke from the sight, He was gone. Since that day, not a single living creature has been allowed to cross the threshold of my house. I hear sounds of life from outside, birds, children, insects, but at night, everything changes. The chorus of crickets chirp a macabre tune, relentlessly repeating the same eerie chords, drilling it so far into my mind that the sound of it drowns out the beautiful music of the day. I hear that song always, and always, it reminds me that He is there. Thunder and pounding rain tell me when there is a storm, but flashes of lightning are never allowed to become visible. The shadows they cast would be enough to give Him a chance. There is a storm going on now, the thunder harassing my eardrums, but a welcome break from the haunting melody that repeats itself in my head. My backup generator is always on, as I will never allow the light to disappear. But the hum of the machine stops, and yet I don't dare move from where I sit, pressed against the wall, shaking as I nearly always do. When I was a child, and read a story that frightened me, I would duck under the covers to escape imaginary monsters. But that is just what He wants. That darkness is now a sanctuary for the hunter. The hunted have no haven but light. My bedroom door is the only one I keep closed, in the admittedly silly belief that the door separates me from Him. The thunder rumbles again, and I sit patiently, waiting for the night to end so that I may fix the backup tomorrow. I have no clock, but as the lights flicker momentarily, I know it is midnight... His time... I sit there, shivering uncontrollably, as every beautiful light fades and I am plunged into darkness. My eyes are helplessly drawn to the crack between the door and its frame, where a silken, cloudy shadow moved. Red light that roots me to the spot appears within the darkness, and I let out a scream, my final words written on this paper, even as I am sure of my demise. Tomorrow, my house will be discovered empty, and this paper will be found on the floor beside where I am no longer. I can only hope to transfer a portion of this torment away from me. I feel my wife's presence even now, and I know that rather than die, I will be trapped behind His leering, , icy, red eyes for eternity, plagued with his existence for all of time. And so, with these final sentences as He draws near, I give Him to whomever may read this. I wouldn't turn off that light, as now you know, His name is Faer.