Hey there!

My name is Aeraqua (as if you haven't figured out THAT already) and I'm an avid Harry Potter fan and anime fan.

There are many other books I like such as Warriors, Pendragon, Artemis Fowl, Molly Moon, and other books which go unnamed but have given me a lot of pleasure.

Right now I'm reading a series of Adult Fantasy called Furies of Calderon. It's quite good, fantasy lovers 13+ (advanced reading level) should go for it.

I also like watching an episode or two a day for anime, new shonen/shojo series would be appreciated, if you can take the time to PM me :). (Please no ecchi or explicit material). Romance is tolerated, but just a little :).

My fanfictions: Dumbledore's Mischief, and Holly Potter: The Girl Who Lived. I've temporarily stopped Dumbledore, but I'll resume it soon.

Anyways, thanks for reading, and post a comment if you can!

COPY AND PASTE:

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30 percent of kids go to college. The other 70 percent either drop out or don't have the skills to. If you are going to or have been to college, copy and paste this into your profile.

65 percent of teenagers spend more time watching TV rather then reading. If you are part of the 35 percent who read more than watch TV, copy and paste this into your profile.

92 percent of teenagers have moved on to rap. If you are part of the 8 percent that stayed with rock, copy and paste this into your profile.

92 percent of teenagers would die if Abercrombie and Fitch said that it wasn't cool to breathe. If you are part of the 8 percent who would be laughing their asses off, copy and paste this into your profile.

98 percent of teenagers have either smoked pot or tried to smoke it. If you are part of the 2 percent who haven't, copy and paste this into your profile.

98 percent of the Internet population has a myspace. If you are part of the 2 percent who can resist stupid fads, copy and paste this into your profile.

Admitting you are weird means you are normal. Saying that you are normal is odd. If you admit that you are weird and like it, copy and paste this into your profile.

A large percent of authors do not know the difference between "your" and "you're". If you do know the difference, copy and paste this into your profile.

Child abuse should be stopped, FULL STOP. Copy and paste this into your profile to show your support of the NSPCC.

The abused child:

My name is Jennifer.
I am 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 day long.
When I'm awake,
I'm all alone.
The house is dark.
My folks aren’t home.
When my mommy comes home,
I'll try and be nice,
So maybe I'll just get
One whipping tonight.
I just heard a car.
My daddy is back
From Charlie’s bar.
I hear him curse.
My name is called.
I press myself
Against the wall.
I try to hide
From his evil eyes.
I’m so afraid now,
I’m starting to cry.
He finds me weeping,
Calls me ugly words.
He says it’s my fault
He suffers at work.
He slaps and hits me,
And yells at me more.
I finally get free
And run to 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 it's now much too late.
His face has been twisted
Into an unimaginable shape.
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 Jennifer.
I am three.
Tonight my daddy
Murdered me.

Now I roam the underworld to help those in need.

I may seem evil, but I'm not.

And if you read this and don’t pass it on, I pray for your forgiveness,

Because you would have to be one heartless person to not be affected by this poem.

If you are affected, do something about it!

So all I ask you to do is pass this on if you are against child abuse!

Drugs are bad news. Spread the word. Too many people are on crack. If you're not, copy and paste this into your profile.

.eliforp ruoy otni siht etsap dna ypoc ,sdrawkcab siht daer ot hguone trams era uoy fI

I cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid, aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it dseno't mtaetr in waht oerdr the ltteres in a wrod are, the olny iproamtnt tihng is taht the frsit and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it whotuit a pboerlm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Azanmig huh? Yaeh and I awlyas tghuhot slpeling was ipmorantt! if you can raed tihs, cpoy and psate it itno yuor pofrile. (It is fun to raed suftf lkie tihs.)

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 with out 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 news paper 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 news paper 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 for ever.. 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, or

2) Ignore it as if it never touched your heart

A teenage girl about 17 named Diane had gone to visit some friends one evening and time passed quickly as each shared their various experiences of the past year. She ended up staying longer than planned, and had to walk home alone. She wasn't afraid because it was a small town and she lived only a few blocks away. As she walked along under the tall elm trees, Diane asked God to keep her safe from harm and danger. When she reached the alley, which was a short cut to her house, she decided to take it. However, halfway down the alley she noticed a man standing at the end as though he were waiting for her. She became uneasy and began to pray, asking for God's protection. Instantly a comforting feeling of quietness and security wrapped round her, she felt as though someone was walking with her. When she reached the end of the alley, she walked right past the man and arrived home safely.

The following day, she read in the newspaper that a young girl had been raped in the same alley just twenty minutes after she had been there. Feeling overwhelmed by this tragedy and the fact that it could have been her, she began to weep. Thanking the Lord for her safety and to help this young woman, she decided to go to the police station. She felt she could recognize the man, so she told them her story. The police asked her if she would be willing to look at a lineup to see if she could identify him. She agreed and immediately pointed out the man she had seen in the alley the night before. When the man was told he had been identified, he immediately broke down and confessed. The officer thanked Diane for her bravery and asked if there was anything they could do for her. She asked if they would ask the man one question. Diane was curious as to why he had not attacked her. When the policeman asked him, he answered, "Because she wasn't alone. She had two tall men walking on either side of her." Amazingly, whether you believe or not, you're never alone. Did you know that 98 of teenagers will not stand up for God, and 93 of the people that read this won't repost it?

Repost this if you truly believe in God, or a god.

Yours truly,

Aeraqua