Zhela Udachi- Good luck (thank you!)
Would make a good name...could change it to Udacha, and she'd be Anya's second cousin, or Leto's sister.
Oi. Haven't thought about that story in a while. Maybe I should.
Nrrg. Had a brain drizzle that ultimately ended in nothing but mud puddles. *scowl*
So tired. Wonder if the computer lab still closes at ten?
Oi, oi, oi.
I am so going to flip a coin when I get home- and then I'll do whatever I want, regardless.
On an unrelated note, I still can't really pronounce hiatus, misanthrope, or misanthropic. Yet another reason to add to the ever growing list of reasons why I hate to talk.
Mrrg. This is getting frustrating. *yawn* Should've brought a notebook. Will attempt to steal paper, so I can draw. I'm in the mood to draw.
Monday, April 21, 2003
Friday, April 18, 2003
Antsy. Itchy.
Like sand under your skin. Like thirty gauge wire wrapped tight around your nerves. Not like ants crawling all over, not quite- more like there's a thousand tiny threads attached to your eyelids, toes, fingers, ears- everything, down to the littlest hairs of your eyebrows that are being pulled taught, all at once, all over. You can't sit still and and it doesn't do any good to stand up, because all you do is pace, and twitch. Any sort of movement, anything to distract from the way your body seems to be crawling away in twenty different directions. It's not nerves, there's nothing to be nervous about. It's just an invisible tension that shouldn't be but is, and more than anything you want it to go away.
More than anything you just want everything to go.
Like sand under your skin. Like thirty gauge wire wrapped tight around your nerves. Not like ants crawling all over, not quite- more like there's a thousand tiny threads attached to your eyelids, toes, fingers, ears- everything, down to the littlest hairs of your eyebrows that are being pulled taught, all at once, all over. You can't sit still and and it doesn't do any good to stand up, because all you do is pace, and twitch. Any sort of movement, anything to distract from the way your body seems to be crawling away in twenty different directions. It's not nerves, there's nothing to be nervous about. It's just an invisible tension that shouldn't be but is, and more than anything you want it to go away.
More than anything you just want everything to go.
Tuesday, April 15, 2003
Monday, April 14, 2003
Mn, just a note, that last scene follows the previous Song of Shadows snippet chronologically...and the first snippet with Zyn happens not long after this one.
Von and Ari'i have an interesting relationship...Von, rather obviously, could use some serious time with a therapist. Ari'i may be the only sane one of the lot, which is useful given that she's host to the really psychotic shade.
The story is divided into...three parts, so far. The Prelude is the story of Binzel and the shadow masters and Mikrel Academy. It basically explains the history of Imbrium and Umbra, and how they're connected to Nocturne and Moero. Aleks gets to be the main character, with Gavin as primary support, and Giselle and Sable as important minor characters. Sable is a bit more important towards the end, being the one who gets to kill everyone.
Hey, she's an assassin. It's her job.
The second part of the story is centered around Cata (Sable) and all the drama that is her life, especially once Zyn (Aleks) enters the picture. Imbrium and Umbra are shadows, not shadow masters, which gives them less power but more freedom. So even though Zyn is tied to Moero, whose element is fire, Imbrium can still use Zyn as a host. Imbrium makes Zyn do some evil stuff, Umbra makes Cata her new host and resurrects Nocturne, then finds Von (Gavin), who should have been her host to begin with. Somehow, Von and Cata, with Ari'i (Giselle), manage to get Imbrium out of Zyn's head and into Ari'i's, where he belongs, and to resurrect Moero. Things probably don't happen in that order. I haven't worked out all the plot points of the Theme.
The third part is basically dealing with the aftermath (ie the previous scene) and involves the original purpose of this whole mess; I wanted to write a super hero story. Naturally, I had to create such a crackheaded back story that I couldn't even give the actual story any thought until I worked through the Origins of ______. It was supposed to be just Nocturne, catsuited fighter of justice and whatnot, but now there's a team of them. I'm sure Von will come up with a catchy name for the four of them.
Mrr. Babbling. Stomach hurts. Spoke to the brother...had self esteem lowered. My self esteem doesn't even have an i. But no one will get that joke, because we're all english majors.
head hurts, too. Bloody parents. *sigh*
Von and Ari'i have an interesting relationship...Von, rather obviously, could use some serious time with a therapist. Ari'i may be the only sane one of the lot, which is useful given that she's host to the really psychotic shade.
The story is divided into...three parts, so far. The Prelude is the story of Binzel and the shadow masters and Mikrel Academy. It basically explains the history of Imbrium and Umbra, and how they're connected to Nocturne and Moero. Aleks gets to be the main character, with Gavin as primary support, and Giselle and Sable as important minor characters. Sable is a bit more important towards the end, being the one who gets to kill everyone.
Hey, she's an assassin. It's her job.
The second part of the story is centered around Cata (Sable) and all the drama that is her life, especially once Zyn (Aleks) enters the picture. Imbrium and Umbra are shadows, not shadow masters, which gives them less power but more freedom. So even though Zyn is tied to Moero, whose element is fire, Imbrium can still use Zyn as a host. Imbrium makes Zyn do some evil stuff, Umbra makes Cata her new host and resurrects Nocturne, then finds Von (Gavin), who should have been her host to begin with. Somehow, Von and Cata, with Ari'i (Giselle), manage to get Imbrium out of Zyn's head and into Ari'i's, where he belongs, and to resurrect Moero. Things probably don't happen in that order. I haven't worked out all the plot points of the Theme.
The third part is basically dealing with the aftermath (ie the previous scene) and involves the original purpose of this whole mess; I wanted to write a super hero story. Naturally, I had to create such a crackheaded back story that I couldn't even give the actual story any thought until I worked through the Origins of ______. It was supposed to be just Nocturne, catsuited fighter of justice and whatnot, but now there's a team of them. I'm sure Von will come up with a catchy name for the four of them.
Mrr. Babbling. Stomach hurts. Spoke to the brother...had self esteem lowered. My self esteem doesn't even have an i. But no one will get that joke, because we're all english majors.
head hurts, too. Bloody parents. *sigh*
Saturday, April 12, 2003
Warnings for frequent mentions of sex, ownership of a bong, and gratuitous...grilled cheese. Von and Ari'i skirt around their Issues.
----------------
The kitchen filled with that strained, guilty air of people who have just had sex when they know they shouldn't have. Von scrambled noisily through the kitchen cabinets, looking for a lighter. The cigarette clamped firmly between his teeth bobbed slightly as he chewed on it. Ari'i rubbed at a hickey on her collar bone absently while watching the way his hair fluttered in every direction as he moved. The coffee maker hummed in the background.
She looked up when he slammed another drawer shut and muttered something uninteligible beneath his breath. She scowled. "You're not actually going to light that, you know."
He stared at her, still chewing on the cigarette. "Why the fuck not? We just screwed on my living room floor, Ari'i- with the kids barely a room away. I'm entitled to a cigarette." He opened another drawer and slammed it shut a moment later. "Should we separate them yet? Do you think they've got their clothes on?"
She rolled her eyes. "If you weren't so easily distracted, you'd know that both of them are fully clothed, and that Zyn is asleep. Cata is standing by the window, talking to Nocturne. Put the cancer stick away, Von. You're not smoking while I'm here."
He slammed another drawer with a flourish. "Did you look? Naughty, naughty, Ari'i- Cata doesn't like having her privacy invaded. What do you have against my cancer sticks, anyway?"
She pointedly ignored his first comment; even if she wanted to explain the constant emotional feedback she received through Imbrium, he wouldn't listen, or wouldn't understand. Ari'i couldn't figure out why he remembered so much of the past when he had such a bad relationship with Umbra. "It'll rot your lungs- and I'm elementally opposed to them, anyway." She leaned across the counter and pulled the slightly soggy cigarette out of Von's mouth. She tapped it against the countertop. "Earth and fire combine to create air. You'd get the same calming effect from insense, but I'd still object. Rather, Imbrium would, and I prefer to keep him in a good mood."
He pouted for a moment, then grinned. "I've got a water pipe in the closet. Would that please Imbrium?"
"A bong?" She snorted. "I'm not at all surprised. I always figured you were a stoner, or a crackhead. It's beyond me how you got through law school."
"I shagged my professors for good grades." His grin was pure evil, and Ari'i suspected it wasn't far from the truth. He ducked below the countertop, and his voice floated up above the clatter of pans. "But seriously, the bong was actually a graduation gift from my aunt. My father's side of the family is Lebanese."
"Which explains why you're blond, of course."
He dropped a cutting board on the counter with a thunk. "Come on, Ari'i. How well do you know me? I don't even remember my natural hair color."
"Really." She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. "Your hair doesn't feel dyed..."
"You'd know, wouldn't you? Nearly pulled half of it out back there..." He rummaged in the fridge and came up with a tomato. "I'm hungry," he stated, "and I'm going to make something to eat."
Ari'i raised an eyebrow at the apparent non sequitur, then shrugged. Air-head. "You can't cook, Von. I've seen you go for days without solid food, unless you count butter and Miracle Whip."
"I can so cook. I can cook exactly five meals." He pulled a very sharp knife out of yet another drawer and began cutting the tomato with careful, vehement slices. "There's the 'let's get to know each other' dinner, which is a fairly simple afair; vodka penne with chicken, and a nice, expensive wine. Then I can make the 'we're going to fuck tonight' dinner, which is a huge pain in the ass, because it's basically seven courses of finger food, most of which require things to be cut up into really annoying shapes. I serve champagne with that one. The last course is chocolate covered strawberries, naturally. It's a useful cliche and they fall for it every time." He wrinkled his nose and grinned, gathering more items from various places around the kitchen.
A loaf of bread, a stick of butter, a tub of margarine, three different kinds of cheese, capers, and three glass bottles of unidentified green things appeared on the counter next to the neatly sliced tomato. He shaved thin slices of cheese into a heaping pile and continued. "My favorite is the 'morning-after breakfast'. I've got this waffle recipe that tastes amazing if you let the batter sit in the fridge for a few days. So I whip that up before I get started on the 'fucking tonight' dinner, and then I just have to get up early enough and voila! Instant breakfast in bed. They always find the fresh squeezed orange juice particularly impressive." He dropped a frying pan on the stove, and Ari'i wondered if he realized how careless he was with the things that belonged to him. For some reason, the thought disturbed her. "The easiest thing to make is the 'let's just be friends lunch'. I used to do a variation on the 'getting to know you dinner', but after someone tried to rip out my eyes with a fork, I switched to plain sandwiches. No cutlery necessary. Lemonade is optional, depending on how long we were sleeping together."
Ari'i shook her head, both disgusted and impressed. "You're such an evil little whore, Von."
"Funny, that's what most of them said." He lapsed into silence. Von buttered both sides of the bread while the skillet sizzled, and alternated layers of cheese and tomatoes with a liberal sprinkling of capers and what looked like dill between each layer.
"So, what's the fifth thing? That was only four."
"Grilled cheese. Would you like some?"
"No catchy name? Who gets grilled cheese?" She eyed the now identified culinary creation warily. No grilled cheese she'd ever encountered before looked like that.
"People I care about." The immense amount of grease involved in the sandwich probably kept it from getting soggy, Ari'i reflected. It did smell wonderful, though.
"But not people you sleep with," she observed.
Von focused on poking the cheesy mess with a spatula for a few moments before answering. "No, generally not."
She tilted her head to the side. "What am I, then?"
He barely hid his smirk. "My intern."
Ari'i stood up calmly and took five long strides to his side of the countertop. Her palm connected to his cheek with a crack that resounded throughout the apartment; completely unprepared for any violence on her part, Von nearly fell face first into the stove. She returned to her stool, not a hair out of place, as he worked his aching jaw soundlessly with involuntary tears in his eyes.
"I'm lactose intolerant, but thanks anyway."
"Oh. I'm sorry." It took him a few moments to find his voice again, and he wouldn't meet her eyes.
She knew he wasn't talking about the food; however, sorry wasn't good enough and they both knew it. "You're burning your grilled cheese, Von," she said gently. He looked alarmed, and then confused. It snapped him out of his guilty stupor, though, and that was important.
He poured a cup of coffee for both of them, and sat down with his sandwich. They stared at each other for a moment. Ari'i finally sighed and reached out to cup his chin. His face was red where she'd slapped him; there would probably be a bruise.
"You're impossible," she murmured.
He smiled and kissed the palm of her hand. "And you're a manipulative bitch."
"A match made in heaven?" she suggested archly.
"We'll both end up in hell."
"We'll be in good company, then."
"Indeed."
They drank their coffee in companionable silence, and watched the shadows grow longer through the kitchen window.
------------
I'm blaming this on Olive Garden. I mean, I know I've been itching for some sort of creative outlet, but...this was a bit much.
I love Von. He could give Dei lessons in angst. :)
----------------
The kitchen filled with that strained, guilty air of people who have just had sex when they know they shouldn't have. Von scrambled noisily through the kitchen cabinets, looking for a lighter. The cigarette clamped firmly between his teeth bobbed slightly as he chewed on it. Ari'i rubbed at a hickey on her collar bone absently while watching the way his hair fluttered in every direction as he moved. The coffee maker hummed in the background.
She looked up when he slammed another drawer shut and muttered something uninteligible beneath his breath. She scowled. "You're not actually going to light that, you know."
He stared at her, still chewing on the cigarette. "Why the fuck not? We just screwed on my living room floor, Ari'i- with the kids barely a room away. I'm entitled to a cigarette." He opened another drawer and slammed it shut a moment later. "Should we separate them yet? Do you think they've got their clothes on?"
She rolled her eyes. "If you weren't so easily distracted, you'd know that both of them are fully clothed, and that Zyn is asleep. Cata is standing by the window, talking to Nocturne. Put the cancer stick away, Von. You're not smoking while I'm here."
He slammed another drawer with a flourish. "Did you look? Naughty, naughty, Ari'i- Cata doesn't like having her privacy invaded. What do you have against my cancer sticks, anyway?"
She pointedly ignored his first comment; even if she wanted to explain the constant emotional feedback she received through Imbrium, he wouldn't listen, or wouldn't understand. Ari'i couldn't figure out why he remembered so much of the past when he had such a bad relationship with Umbra. "It'll rot your lungs- and I'm elementally opposed to them, anyway." She leaned across the counter and pulled the slightly soggy cigarette out of Von's mouth. She tapped it against the countertop. "Earth and fire combine to create air. You'd get the same calming effect from insense, but I'd still object. Rather, Imbrium would, and I prefer to keep him in a good mood."
He pouted for a moment, then grinned. "I've got a water pipe in the closet. Would that please Imbrium?"
"A bong?" She snorted. "I'm not at all surprised. I always figured you were a stoner, or a crackhead. It's beyond me how you got through law school."
"I shagged my professors for good grades." His grin was pure evil, and Ari'i suspected it wasn't far from the truth. He ducked below the countertop, and his voice floated up above the clatter of pans. "But seriously, the bong was actually a graduation gift from my aunt. My father's side of the family is Lebanese."
"Which explains why you're blond, of course."
He dropped a cutting board on the counter with a thunk. "Come on, Ari'i. How well do you know me? I don't even remember my natural hair color."
"Really." She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. "Your hair doesn't feel dyed..."
"You'd know, wouldn't you? Nearly pulled half of it out back there..." He rummaged in the fridge and came up with a tomato. "I'm hungry," he stated, "and I'm going to make something to eat."
Ari'i raised an eyebrow at the apparent non sequitur, then shrugged. Air-head. "You can't cook, Von. I've seen you go for days without solid food, unless you count butter and Miracle Whip."
"I can so cook. I can cook exactly five meals." He pulled a very sharp knife out of yet another drawer and began cutting the tomato with careful, vehement slices. "There's the 'let's get to know each other' dinner, which is a fairly simple afair; vodka penne with chicken, and a nice, expensive wine. Then I can make the 'we're going to fuck tonight' dinner, which is a huge pain in the ass, because it's basically seven courses of finger food, most of which require things to be cut up into really annoying shapes. I serve champagne with that one. The last course is chocolate covered strawberries, naturally. It's a useful cliche and they fall for it every time." He wrinkled his nose and grinned, gathering more items from various places around the kitchen.
A loaf of bread, a stick of butter, a tub of margarine, three different kinds of cheese, capers, and three glass bottles of unidentified green things appeared on the counter next to the neatly sliced tomato. He shaved thin slices of cheese into a heaping pile and continued. "My favorite is the 'morning-after breakfast'. I've got this waffle recipe that tastes amazing if you let the batter sit in the fridge for a few days. So I whip that up before I get started on the 'fucking tonight' dinner, and then I just have to get up early enough and voila! Instant breakfast in bed. They always find the fresh squeezed orange juice particularly impressive." He dropped a frying pan on the stove, and Ari'i wondered if he realized how careless he was with the things that belonged to him. For some reason, the thought disturbed her. "The easiest thing to make is the 'let's just be friends lunch'. I used to do a variation on the 'getting to know you dinner', but after someone tried to rip out my eyes with a fork, I switched to plain sandwiches. No cutlery necessary. Lemonade is optional, depending on how long we were sleeping together."
Ari'i shook her head, both disgusted and impressed. "You're such an evil little whore, Von."
"Funny, that's what most of them said." He lapsed into silence. Von buttered both sides of the bread while the skillet sizzled, and alternated layers of cheese and tomatoes with a liberal sprinkling of capers and what looked like dill between each layer.
"So, what's the fifth thing? That was only four."
"Grilled cheese. Would you like some?"
"No catchy name? Who gets grilled cheese?" She eyed the now identified culinary creation warily. No grilled cheese she'd ever encountered before looked like that.
"People I care about." The immense amount of grease involved in the sandwich probably kept it from getting soggy, Ari'i reflected. It did smell wonderful, though.
"But not people you sleep with," she observed.
Von focused on poking the cheesy mess with a spatula for a few moments before answering. "No, generally not."
She tilted her head to the side. "What am I, then?"
He barely hid his smirk. "My intern."
Ari'i stood up calmly and took five long strides to his side of the countertop. Her palm connected to his cheek with a crack that resounded throughout the apartment; completely unprepared for any violence on her part, Von nearly fell face first into the stove. She returned to her stool, not a hair out of place, as he worked his aching jaw soundlessly with involuntary tears in his eyes.
"I'm lactose intolerant, but thanks anyway."
"Oh. I'm sorry." It took him a few moments to find his voice again, and he wouldn't meet her eyes.
She knew he wasn't talking about the food; however, sorry wasn't good enough and they both knew it. "You're burning your grilled cheese, Von," she said gently. He looked alarmed, and then confused. It snapped him out of his guilty stupor, though, and that was important.
He poured a cup of coffee for both of them, and sat down with his sandwich. They stared at each other for a moment. Ari'i finally sighed and reached out to cup his chin. His face was red where she'd slapped him; there would probably be a bruise.
"You're impossible," she murmured.
He smiled and kissed the palm of her hand. "And you're a manipulative bitch."
"A match made in heaven?" she suggested archly.
"We'll both end up in hell."
"We'll be in good company, then."
"Indeed."
They drank their coffee in companionable silence, and watched the shadows grow longer through the kitchen window.
------------
I'm blaming this on Olive Garden. I mean, I know I've been itching for some sort of creative outlet, but...this was a bit much.
I love Von. He could give Dei lessons in angst. :)
Thursday, April 10, 2003
I have found Elric of Melinbone fanart. My life is complete.
Been feeling very blank lately. Blank like Keanu Reeve's stare. Blank like the slack jawed, vacant smile of Amanda Bines. Blank like the canvas of our president's brain. Blank like all the notebooks I haven't been able to write in. Blank like-
You probably get the picture. Only there is no picture. Because it's blank.
*sigh* Ah, well. I'll just eat banana bread until my creativity returns. Woo!
Been feeling very blank lately. Blank like Keanu Reeve's stare. Blank like the slack jawed, vacant smile of Amanda Bines. Blank like the canvas of our president's brain. Blank like all the notebooks I haven't been able to write in. Blank like-
You probably get the picture. Only there is no picture. Because it's blank.
*sigh* Ah, well. I'll just eat banana bread until my creativity returns. Woo!
Wednesday, April 09, 2003
we can play dead she said. it'll be fun.
and so we played like little children in the sun when it began to rain, and it wasn't as fun as it should have been. let's play again she said. i had fun. next time you can pick the game.
and we waited until the next day, and the next, and then she said let's play. and i asked what do you want to play? and she said anything you want anything at all.
and so i said lets fly we can be birds. but she didn't want to and she went home. so i stood in the rain by myself and played dead for her. but she never came back and i never saw her again.
i haven't believed in 'anything' since.
She nodded once, sharply, and left the shivering man in his cell. With any luck he would stay in his current reverted state; it wouldn't do to have the truth about her operation running loose. It might make the faithful doubt, and she had no use for followers who could think for themselves.
Besides, it was pleasant to have someone remember who she'd been, before. Every day more and more of the Light filled her, and she knew that it was only a matter of time before there was nothing left.
i think i believe in her now.
------------
Feelin' cultish lately...may do research for this one. Hmm...
and so we played like little children in the sun when it began to rain, and it wasn't as fun as it should have been. let's play again she said. i had fun. next time you can pick the game.
and we waited until the next day, and the next, and then she said let's play. and i asked what do you want to play? and she said anything you want anything at all.
and so i said lets fly we can be birds. but she didn't want to and she went home. so i stood in the rain by myself and played dead for her. but she never came back and i never saw her again.
i haven't believed in 'anything' since.
She nodded once, sharply, and left the shivering man in his cell. With any luck he would stay in his current reverted state; it wouldn't do to have the truth about her operation running loose. It might make the faithful doubt, and she had no use for followers who could think for themselves.
Besides, it was pleasant to have someone remember who she'd been, before. Every day more and more of the Light filled her, and she knew that it was only a matter of time before there was nothing left.
i think i believe in her now.
------------
Feelin' cultish lately...may do research for this one. Hmm...
Monday, April 07, 2003
I absolutely love the translucent, psychadelic, glittery style of coloring that can be found in here.
Mmm, Japanese. Lovely, colorful stuff, a lot of it Tactics and Vagrant Story, which is even better...
I'm spending more and more of my time online looking through pretty pictures, because it doesn't require any thinking. I have the attention span of a three year old with ADD. Shiny!
Mmm, Japanese. Lovely, colorful stuff, a lot of it Tactics and Vagrant Story, which is even better...
I'm spending more and more of my time online looking through pretty pictures, because it doesn't require any thinking. I have the attention span of a three year old with ADD. Shiny!
Sunday, April 06, 2003
My mom is growing dirt in a plastic bowl, one that we usually use for the cat's water.
Not just any dirt, mind you- instant dirt. Three little tablets, just add hot water.
There is a bowl full of wet dirt on the countertop, now. It's supposed to thicken when stirred, to a proper consistency.
...does anyone else find this just a little bit strange? Just a little? I mean, I guess I shouldn't be surprised, but...I'm not even sure how to respond to this one.
Not just any dirt, mind you- instant dirt. Three little tablets, just add hot water.
There is a bowl full of wet dirt on the countertop, now. It's supposed to thicken when stirred, to a proper consistency.
...does anyone else find this just a little bit strange? Just a little? I mean, I guess I shouldn't be surprised, but...I'm not even sure how to respond to this one.
Winamp pulled Jack on "One Song, Glory".
...Now I have the cast of Wild Arms in my head, pretending to be rock stars. 0_0 Hanpan, naturally, is the drummer. Rudy would be lead vocals. Cecilia...keyboards. Jack plays his guitar, only he hooks it up to an amp first, and accidentally summons all eight golems to the concert...and they step on the stage.
The end.
Oh, that was bad. Very bad. Bad Winamp, no biscuit.
On the other hand, "One Song, Glory" isn't a bad song for Jack, given his insatiable search for power and whatnot...power, fame- they're close enough, yes? Hmm...*can't get idea of Hanpan as drummer out of head* Never mind.
...Now I have the cast of Wild Arms in my head, pretending to be rock stars. 0_0 Hanpan, naturally, is the drummer. Rudy would be lead vocals. Cecilia...keyboards. Jack plays his guitar, only he hooks it up to an amp first, and accidentally summons all eight golems to the concert...and they step on the stage.
The end.
Oh, that was bad. Very bad. Bad Winamp, no biscuit.
On the other hand, "One Song, Glory" isn't a bad song for Jack, given his insatiable search for power and whatnot...power, fame- they're close enough, yes? Hmm...*can't get idea of Hanpan as drummer out of head* Never mind.
Naked Cowboy!
It's the guy we saw in Times Square today- seriously. I couldn't make this sort of thing up. And naturally, I had to draw him. :)
I love New York.
Saturday, April 05, 2003
"I can't believe you're doing this! You have no idea what you're getting yourself into, and if you can't see for yourself-"
"Damn it, Blaine, you're not my father!"
The healer shut his mouth with a snap, and his mouth tightened into a thin, angry line. Foxbird paled slightly, knowing she had just crossed one of those unspoken lines that she had no right to cross. The silence hung between them for a moment, tense and angry.
Blaine broke it with a snap, as his hand slammed down against the table between them. "Fine." His voice was carefully controlled, but he was trembling and would not meet her eyes. "You're right. I'm not." He straightened abruptly, and left, his back straight and shoulders tense.
Foxy slumped against the table and ran her hands through her hair, feeling the tips of her ears lengthening as her control wavered. She wanted nothing more than to simply fall apart, to lose control and go feral, for just a few hours. Everything was so much simpler when she wasn't human.
Blaine didn't know she could do more than grow pointy ears and a tail; she handn't told him that her semi-transformations could be completed. He didn't know that she went out, sometimes, when not working, just to run and feel the moonlight on her fur. She never told him how much she hated the city because it was all bare streets and cold stone; her feet longed for warm earth and concealing grasses.
He also didn't know exactly how long she'd been sleeping with Silverlock, or why they weren't really a couple anymore. She'd meant to tell him that, because that little fact would have ended Blaine's argument before it even began, but they hadn't gotten that far. He'd confronted her on the rumors, most of which were true, and then exploded before she had a chance to explain anything. Blaine hardly ever got angry, but when he did, he didn't do it by halves. It would be days before they'd be on speaking terms again, which meant that he'd be even more depressed and full of self loathing than usual.
There was never any question that she loved him dearly, but more often than not Foxbird grew impatient with him. She couldn't understand why something so simple as a smile was so difficult for the man. Blaine had raised her, and while she was admittedly a great deal younger than she appeared (somewhere around six and a half years old, though she'd reached physical maturity at five) she could still count the number of times she'd seen him truly happy on one hand. She sighed again, and massaged her temples carefully with fingers that were starting to resemble claws.
It didn't help that she knew their current situation was her fault; for all that she claimed to be an adult, she did have occasional moments of complete immaturity. She was disgusted with herself. You're not my father? Varun's tits, that was perhaps the stupidest thing I could have said. Nice work. Blaine also didn't know that she'd found out who her real parents were; the only ones who knew the truth were the Shrive, and she'd been bound to keep it a secret. Part of her rebelled at this; more than anyone else, he deserved to know the truth about her. The issue had been weighing on her mind recently, but that didn't excuse her for not respecting Blaine's sensitivity on the issue. The only reason Blaine was still alive was because he'd been able to depend on her depending on him; his protective urges had been endearing at first, but now they were completely unnecessary. If she wasn't careful, Blaine would start to think that he was unnecessary as well, and that would only lead to trouble, and angst.
The scent of blood alerted her to Silverlock's presence before she felt his hands across her shoulder blades, working out the knots of tension there. "Rough night, pet?" The mage always smelled of blood; she fought down the urge to lick him. Now was not the time, but she wasn't thinking clearly enough to maintain her sense of humanity.
"Not your pet," she muttered, sighing beneath his touch.
She could feel the mage smiling. "No, not mine. I could be yours, though, if you'd like." He was laughing at her. "I've already got the collar, I'm sure you could supply the leash..."
"I had an argument with Blaine."
There was a note of hesitance in his voice; he was no longer laughing. "I'm sorry..."
"Not your fault." It was an automatic response, to make him feel better. It never worked.
"Liar."
"Yes. I was going to explain everything, but..."
"But he hates me." The headache that Silver's clever fingers had massaged away returned again in full force as she felt her friend go tense with barely constrained bitterness.
She was getting tired of sighing; the part of her that was more fox than anything else turned it into a growl before it slipped from her lips. "I said something I shouldn't have- he still thinks I'm a kid, but sometimes I wonder...I mean, he's not much older than me, really. Only a human, he can't help it..." She turned around and let Silverlock hold her. "You should talk to him."
"We can't be within twenty feet of each other without one or both of us being violently ill, pet. It wouldn't work." There were those who believed Silverlock incapable of feeling anything but cruelty and lust; Foxbird knew from personal experience that the half-elf could only keep the guilt at bay for so long. She was perhaps the only person still alive to know what the 'heartless' assassin looked like when he cried.
"It would if you loved him," she murmured into his shoulder. "He needs you."
"Only he just doesn't know it yet, right?" Silverlock laughed softly as he kissed the top of her head. "I'm surprised at you, pet. You're all grown up now- you're too old to believe in fairytales."
She hid her smile against his chest, remembering that Silverlock didn't know what she was, either. Not too old at all, my friend. And I'm going to see Blaine happy if it kills the both of you. "I suppose you're right, Silver." Inwardly, her smile broadened as she began to piece together a course of action. It very well might kill them both, but if it worked..."It's a nice thought though, isn't it?"
His voice was a distant whisper in her ear. "Yes. Yes it is."
If it worked, neither of her friends would ever be lonely again.
---------------
Since Blaine occasionally does remind me of a small Jewish grandmother, it makes sense that Foxbird would be an incorrigible matchmaker.
...Wait, wait, no it doesn't, not at all. Pretend I didn't say that, would you?
No, Foxy isn't half as cute when she's all growed up, but I have a difficult time writing 'cute', especially 'cute with children' (probably because I occasionally suffer from naughty urges to decapitate them *coughcough* Not that I enjoy the whole author-as-god thing too much or anything...) and she's a bit more in character when she's doing one of those "What fools these mortals be!" thing. Silver and Blaine deserve each other, the little oversensitive angst-muffins.
I think Foxy's brilliant plan is something along the lines of locking both of them in a room together and not opening the door until they work out their issues. If they happen to kill each other in the process, she'll just have a mystic trap their souls in a jar and keep them stuck in limbo until they work things out. She's really good at killing things, but she needs to work on her nefarious plotting skills.
I should write more from her point of view; there's less angst and she is supposed to be the main character...*sweatdrop* Ooops...
"Damn it, Blaine, you're not my father!"
The healer shut his mouth with a snap, and his mouth tightened into a thin, angry line. Foxbird paled slightly, knowing she had just crossed one of those unspoken lines that she had no right to cross. The silence hung between them for a moment, tense and angry.
Blaine broke it with a snap, as his hand slammed down against the table between them. "Fine." His voice was carefully controlled, but he was trembling and would not meet her eyes. "You're right. I'm not." He straightened abruptly, and left, his back straight and shoulders tense.
Foxy slumped against the table and ran her hands through her hair, feeling the tips of her ears lengthening as her control wavered. She wanted nothing more than to simply fall apart, to lose control and go feral, for just a few hours. Everything was so much simpler when she wasn't human.
Blaine didn't know she could do more than grow pointy ears and a tail; she handn't told him that her semi-transformations could be completed. He didn't know that she went out, sometimes, when not working, just to run and feel the moonlight on her fur. She never told him how much she hated the city because it was all bare streets and cold stone; her feet longed for warm earth and concealing grasses.
He also didn't know exactly how long she'd been sleeping with Silverlock, or why they weren't really a couple anymore. She'd meant to tell him that, because that little fact would have ended Blaine's argument before it even began, but they hadn't gotten that far. He'd confronted her on the rumors, most of which were true, and then exploded before she had a chance to explain anything. Blaine hardly ever got angry, but when he did, he didn't do it by halves. It would be days before they'd be on speaking terms again, which meant that he'd be even more depressed and full of self loathing than usual.
There was never any question that she loved him dearly, but more often than not Foxbird grew impatient with him. She couldn't understand why something so simple as a smile was so difficult for the man. Blaine had raised her, and while she was admittedly a great deal younger than she appeared (somewhere around six and a half years old, though she'd reached physical maturity at five) she could still count the number of times she'd seen him truly happy on one hand. She sighed again, and massaged her temples carefully with fingers that were starting to resemble claws.
It didn't help that she knew their current situation was her fault; for all that she claimed to be an adult, she did have occasional moments of complete immaturity. She was disgusted with herself. You're not my father? Varun's tits, that was perhaps the stupidest thing I could have said. Nice work. Blaine also didn't know that she'd found out who her real parents were; the only ones who knew the truth were the Shrive, and she'd been bound to keep it a secret. Part of her rebelled at this; more than anyone else, he deserved to know the truth about her. The issue had been weighing on her mind recently, but that didn't excuse her for not respecting Blaine's sensitivity on the issue. The only reason Blaine was still alive was because he'd been able to depend on her depending on him; his protective urges had been endearing at first, but now they were completely unnecessary. If she wasn't careful, Blaine would start to think that he was unnecessary as well, and that would only lead to trouble, and angst.
The scent of blood alerted her to Silverlock's presence before she felt his hands across her shoulder blades, working out the knots of tension there. "Rough night, pet?" The mage always smelled of blood; she fought down the urge to lick him. Now was not the time, but she wasn't thinking clearly enough to maintain her sense of humanity.
"Not your pet," she muttered, sighing beneath his touch.
She could feel the mage smiling. "No, not mine. I could be yours, though, if you'd like." He was laughing at her. "I've already got the collar, I'm sure you could supply the leash..."
"I had an argument with Blaine."
There was a note of hesitance in his voice; he was no longer laughing. "I'm sorry..."
"Not your fault." It was an automatic response, to make him feel better. It never worked.
"Liar."
"Yes. I was going to explain everything, but..."
"But he hates me." The headache that Silver's clever fingers had massaged away returned again in full force as she felt her friend go tense with barely constrained bitterness.
She was getting tired of sighing; the part of her that was more fox than anything else turned it into a growl before it slipped from her lips. "I said something I shouldn't have- he still thinks I'm a kid, but sometimes I wonder...I mean, he's not much older than me, really. Only a human, he can't help it..." She turned around and let Silverlock hold her. "You should talk to him."
"We can't be within twenty feet of each other without one or both of us being violently ill, pet. It wouldn't work." There were those who believed Silverlock incapable of feeling anything but cruelty and lust; Foxbird knew from personal experience that the half-elf could only keep the guilt at bay for so long. She was perhaps the only person still alive to know what the 'heartless' assassin looked like when he cried.
"It would if you loved him," she murmured into his shoulder. "He needs you."
"Only he just doesn't know it yet, right?" Silverlock laughed softly as he kissed the top of her head. "I'm surprised at you, pet. You're all grown up now- you're too old to believe in fairytales."
She hid her smile against his chest, remembering that Silverlock didn't know what she was, either. Not too old at all, my friend. And I'm going to see Blaine happy if it kills the both of you. "I suppose you're right, Silver." Inwardly, her smile broadened as she began to piece together a course of action. It very well might kill them both, but if it worked..."It's a nice thought though, isn't it?"
His voice was a distant whisper in her ear. "Yes. Yes it is."
If it worked, neither of her friends would ever be lonely again.
---------------
Since Blaine occasionally does remind me of a small Jewish grandmother, it makes sense that Foxbird would be an incorrigible matchmaker.
...Wait, wait, no it doesn't, not at all. Pretend I didn't say that, would you?
No, Foxy isn't half as cute when she's all growed up, but I have a difficult time writing 'cute', especially 'cute with children' (probably because I occasionally suffer from naughty urges to decapitate them *coughcough* Not that I enjoy the whole author-as-god thing too much or anything...) and she's a bit more in character when she's doing one of those "What fools these mortals be!" thing. Silver and Blaine deserve each other, the little oversensitive angst-muffins.
I think Foxy's brilliant plan is something along the lines of locking both of them in a room together and not opening the door until they work out their issues. If they happen to kill each other in the process, she'll just have a mystic trap their souls in a jar and keep them stuck in limbo until they work things out. She's really good at killing things, but she needs to work on her nefarious plotting skills.
I should write more from her point of view; there's less angst and she is supposed to be the main character...*sweatdrop* Ooops...
Sometimes, when the light was dim and the shadows were long, she would venture out, into the sun.
More often than not, though, she stayed below ground, content to watch the ankles of unsuspecting commuters on their way to work.
----
Black and white and upside down! I love the stock photo section of deviantart. A little bit of tweaking, some grayscale and flipping, add a bit of text and...voila! New header image, new layout. Best viewed in slightly larger resolutions, I suppose. The sizing will probably be off no matter how you look at it, but I honestly wouldn't know, given that I'm stuck in 600/800. Still. I like the pic. I like the colors. I like the setup. *shrug* S'all, good, ja?
More often than not, though, she stayed below ground, content to watch the ankles of unsuspecting commuters on their way to work.
----
Black and white and upside down! I love the stock photo section of deviantart. A little bit of tweaking, some grayscale and flipping, add a bit of text and...voila! New header image, new layout. Best viewed in slightly larger resolutions, I suppose. The sizing will probably be off no matter how you look at it, but I honestly wouldn't know, given that I'm stuck in 600/800. Still. I like the pic. I like the colors. I like the setup. *shrug* S'all, good, ja?
Friday, April 04, 2003
Working on a new layout; something black and white and upside down. It amuses me.
The Nazca DVD they sent is the wrong one. *woeful* The good news, however, is that Yuka goes crazy...but there were a whole slew of new people in silly outfits to gawk at that I didn' recognize, so there will be no watching of Nazca until I get the third DVD.
The tv to which the playstation is connected has gone on a serious trip; I'm used to it misbehaving, but usually when the picture starts scrolling, it's because of some effect on screen that it just couldn't handle; it's never gone on the blink without provocation before. This tv is ancient; much older than I, I'm certain. It's ugly and brown and you change the channels using a dial of all things. It used to have antennae, but we took them off when we moved it into the family room, many years ago. It's an ancient, decrepit Hitachi that doesn't like special effects, and I'm fairly sure it isn't the Playstation that's giving me grief, even if my controllers are rather beaten and abused. The tv doesn't register certain shades of red, it doesn't have definition, much less high definition, and it's always cut off the bottom two inches or so of the screen and stretches the picture around the edges. Ooooold. And now I can't turn it on without the picture scrolling from up to down. I used to be able to just turn it off for a little while, and then it would be fine. Now, it just scrolls faster.
I think it might be possessed. *contemplates the ramifications of a demonic television* Nothing to worry about, really. It's too old to manage any really good acts of demonic influence.
If this chair weren't so uncomfortable, I'd fall asleep at the computer. I think I'll go practice Ophelia a bit more before collapsing...*yawn* (It turns out that the day I actually have my Latin homework in on time, Bhumika doesn't see Ms Kniffen and doesn't hand hers in. *DOI*)
The Nazca DVD they sent is the wrong one. *woeful* The good news, however, is that Yuka goes crazy...but there were a whole slew of new people in silly outfits to gawk at that I didn' recognize, so there will be no watching of Nazca until I get the third DVD.
The tv to which the playstation is connected has gone on a serious trip; I'm used to it misbehaving, but usually when the picture starts scrolling, it's because of some effect on screen that it just couldn't handle; it's never gone on the blink without provocation before. This tv is ancient; much older than I, I'm certain. It's ugly and brown and you change the channels using a dial of all things. It used to have antennae, but we took them off when we moved it into the family room, many years ago. It's an ancient, decrepit Hitachi that doesn't like special effects, and I'm fairly sure it isn't the Playstation that's giving me grief, even if my controllers are rather beaten and abused. The tv doesn't register certain shades of red, it doesn't have definition, much less high definition, and it's always cut off the bottom two inches or so of the screen and stretches the picture around the edges. Ooooold. And now I can't turn it on without the picture scrolling from up to down. I used to be able to just turn it off for a little while, and then it would be fine. Now, it just scrolls faster.
I think it might be possessed. *contemplates the ramifications of a demonic television* Nothing to worry about, really. It's too old to manage any really good acts of demonic influence.
If this chair weren't so uncomfortable, I'd fall asleep at the computer. I think I'll go practice Ophelia a bit more before collapsing...*yawn* (It turns out that the day I actually have my Latin homework in on time, Bhumika doesn't see Ms Kniffen and doesn't hand hers in. *DOI*)
Thursday, April 03, 2003
Current
obsessions:
-Weiss Kreuz
-Vagrant Story
-FFVII
-Jason Mraz
-Bad poetry
state of head
Ashley is making jewelry, Crawford is making breakfast (along with Kay, who is also making faces at Eclipse), Zack is making breakfast, Seph is making coffee, Vincent is making holes in very small targets at a very great distance, Farfarello is making a mess, Nagi is making a point, Sydney is making trouble, Dei and Weiss are making angst-muffins with a new recipe (twice the trauma, half the fat!), the Old Crew is making themselves scarce, the New Kids are making nuisances of themselves. All is as it should be.
writing
Not much. Nothing new on 7th Hour, Boffo (will post chapter 13 and the epilogue someday, when they stop making me cringe in horror), or DDD. No new story ideas that are at all serious. Foxbird has been tickling the back of my head for a while, but not with anything serious or useable. Amusing? Oh, yes. Worth writing? Not really. Tentative Weiss fic in formation in head, liklihood of it reaching paper is slim; small amounts of work done on the TurkFic, namely getting past sex scene and moving on to plot (bah, plot, who needs it?); Vagrant Story more likely to induce silly comic strips and very, very random vignettes and scenes; Setzer's airship was cool, Darryl's is cooler, but that particular fic isn't going anywhere but down unless I can get past the ridiculous amount of tension contained therein; Snowflake Shadows needs to be written before I succumb to reading Harry Potter fic again- will probably have to read the fourth book and parts of the third to get a better grasp on Cho, but waiting for OotP to come out may be a better idea. Still working on last stanza of Poet poem, will wait until dad returns before printing it and giving it to parents; shall resolve to begin writing Zack vignettes and ficlets, if only to aleviate his grumbling.
reading
Nothing. Started Gunslinger, didn't get very far. Started Sword Maker, didn't get very far. Can't seem to finish Stronghold, probably because I know Rohan will die and Pol ticks me off. Still haven't started the Illuminati trilogy; will someday give that back to Kurt, just...not now. I can't find it under the mess on my desk. Should be reading Julius Caesar, can't quite bring myself to pick up Shakespeare right now. Haven't taken Fifth Elephant out of my bookbag in a very long time. Stress impedes my ability to think straight or read anything of any merit (ie not fanfic). Webcomics- Boy Meets Boy, Schism, Molotov Cocktail (since I've stopped reading Arcana, that means I'm only reading three slashy comics right now. hn.) also Fire Always Makes it Better (for the mindfuck of a plot (wtf?) and the pretty art and the way Wollen is a homicidal maniac of a dragon) and Nine Swords (for Riley. And the excessive gore and violence.) and Karma Slave (because I've grown to like Lyn's art, and Kuruma hasn't yet begun to grate on my nerves- yet). Only six, really...no, wait. I lied. YWAM, which is shounen ai, but semi-professional and therefore infrequently updated. Very pretty, though. The angst has gotten choking lately, what with the Kenichi/Ethan/Suoh situation, however, and I don't really approve. So that's seven, four of which are slashy...hn, I must be obsessed. *shrug*
listening
Eternal Harp. Carol Thompson lives like twenty minutes from here; she's an emmy winning harpist. Mom still wants a harp. I kinda want a harp. Waiting for My Rocket is some smooth, smooth shite, yes indeedy. I wish to stalk Jason Mraz, but I think that if I don't shut up about him, someone will beat me with a club. Born on a Pirate Ship is bitter, bitter sweetness of the Bare Naked Ladies variety. I wanna have "Stomach vs Heart" tattooed on my earlobes. Newsies is still wonderful, and the Telemann is utter spiffness on a stick.
watching
I missed YYH and Kenshin. Again. *head. wall. ouch.* Damnit. *sigh* Haven't watched tv in such a long time...but! Have new Nazca DVD. Will watch soon. (Soon is a very relative concept...) Nazca pleases me greatly, with the silly spandex, the swordfighting, the plotholes, and the pissy characters. Now vaguely incestuos, too! Only vaguely, mind. But I'll be pissed if Elela ditches Jigumi for Wossname, the mountain climbing dude. She should be Evil and psychotic, just like Jigumi- largely because she has pink hair, and we all know people with pink hair are inherently evil. Look at Sailor Moon. So therefore, Elela must remain evil, and not switch sides halfway through. Also! Six-String Samurai should be coming soon. "Vegas needs a new king", and all. (Despite the fact that it's probably going to be crappy, any movie with that particular line in it is good in my book.) Will soon be going to see Rent, but that doesn't quite count.
drawing
Currently, not much. Finished the hitchiking picture last week, so now I'm not doing anything serious. Feeling the urge to do more Weiss Kreuz fanart, though- Crawford this time, not Farfarello. Sexy, not psychotic. I refuse to draw Shuldich, because he has stupid hair. I refuse to draw any of the Weiss crew, because they're whiny and annoying. I don't know what Nagi looks like, so I can't draw him. Guess I'm stuck with the psycho albino and the guy with glasses, then. I've so got to actually watch this series...but I'm afraid that if I do, I'll hate all the characters, and that would make me sad. I think I'd like to do an Aviator pic- Perry or Miranda in full combat/courier uniform. Some serious VS fanart might be nice, or a Boffo scene of some sort. Dunno.
not doing
Homework. What did you expect?
wanting
Fuck, don't ask me that. To be left alone, for the most part. To not have to worry about people. ...Ice cream. An attention span. To know what exactly I want out of life, among other things. To be able to keep everyone happy and sane and joyful because people should be joyful, damnit. World peace wouldn't be half bad, either, but I'd settle for world-lack-of-outward-violence at this point. To be abused. For my voice not to crack when I'm singing at the top of my lungs. To be able to articulate what I need to say. To know, definitively, that everything really is going to be all right.
avoiding
Homework, speaking, facing certain issues...explaining myself in depth.
waiting
for the rain, for mom to come home, for things to make sense, for the cat to get out of my lap so I can find myself some ice cream, for my homework to do itself.
And that's it for today's current events, lovelies. Have a nice night.
obsessions:
-Weiss Kreuz
-Vagrant Story
-FFVII
-Jason Mraz
-Bad poetry
state of head
Ashley is making jewelry, Crawford is making breakfast (along with Kay, who is also making faces at Eclipse), Zack is making breakfast, Seph is making coffee, Vincent is making holes in very small targets at a very great distance, Farfarello is making a mess, Nagi is making a point, Sydney is making trouble, Dei and Weiss are making angst-muffins with a new recipe (twice the trauma, half the fat!), the Old Crew is making themselves scarce, the New Kids are making nuisances of themselves. All is as it should be.
writing
Not much. Nothing new on 7th Hour, Boffo (will post chapter 13 and the epilogue someday, when they stop making me cringe in horror), or DDD. No new story ideas that are at all serious. Foxbird has been tickling the back of my head for a while, but not with anything serious or useable. Amusing? Oh, yes. Worth writing? Not really. Tentative Weiss fic in formation in head, liklihood of it reaching paper is slim; small amounts of work done on the TurkFic, namely getting past sex scene and moving on to plot (bah, plot, who needs it?); Vagrant Story more likely to induce silly comic strips and very, very random vignettes and scenes; Setzer's airship was cool, Darryl's is cooler, but that particular fic isn't going anywhere but down unless I can get past the ridiculous amount of tension contained therein; Snowflake Shadows needs to be written before I succumb to reading Harry Potter fic again- will probably have to read the fourth book and parts of the third to get a better grasp on Cho, but waiting for OotP to come out may be a better idea. Still working on last stanza of Poet poem, will wait until dad returns before printing it and giving it to parents; shall resolve to begin writing Zack vignettes and ficlets, if only to aleviate his grumbling.
reading
Nothing. Started Gunslinger, didn't get very far. Started Sword Maker, didn't get very far. Can't seem to finish Stronghold, probably because I know Rohan will die and Pol ticks me off. Still haven't started the Illuminati trilogy; will someday give that back to Kurt, just...not now. I can't find it under the mess on my desk. Should be reading Julius Caesar, can't quite bring myself to pick up Shakespeare right now. Haven't taken Fifth Elephant out of my bookbag in a very long time. Stress impedes my ability to think straight or read anything of any merit (ie not fanfic). Webcomics- Boy Meets Boy, Schism, Molotov Cocktail (since I've stopped reading Arcana, that means I'm only reading three slashy comics right now. hn.) also Fire Always Makes it Better (for the mindfuck of a plot (wtf?) and the pretty art and the way Wollen is a homicidal maniac of a dragon) and Nine Swords (for Riley. And the excessive gore and violence.) and Karma Slave (because I've grown to like Lyn's art, and Kuruma hasn't yet begun to grate on my nerves- yet). Only six, really...no, wait. I lied. YWAM, which is shounen ai, but semi-professional and therefore infrequently updated. Very pretty, though. The angst has gotten choking lately, what with the Kenichi/Ethan/Suoh situation, however, and I don't really approve. So that's seven, four of which are slashy...hn, I must be obsessed. *shrug*
listening
Eternal Harp. Carol Thompson lives like twenty minutes from here; she's an emmy winning harpist. Mom still wants a harp. I kinda want a harp. Waiting for My Rocket is some smooth, smooth shite, yes indeedy. I wish to stalk Jason Mraz, but I think that if I don't shut up about him, someone will beat me with a club. Born on a Pirate Ship is bitter, bitter sweetness of the Bare Naked Ladies variety. I wanna have "Stomach vs Heart" tattooed on my earlobes. Newsies is still wonderful, and the Telemann is utter spiffness on a stick.
watching
I missed YYH and Kenshin. Again. *head. wall. ouch.* Damnit. *sigh* Haven't watched tv in such a long time...but! Have new Nazca DVD. Will watch soon. (Soon is a very relative concept...) Nazca pleases me greatly, with the silly spandex, the swordfighting, the plotholes, and the pissy characters. Now vaguely incestuos, too! Only vaguely, mind. But I'll be pissed if Elela ditches Jigumi for Wossname, the mountain climbing dude. She should be Evil and psychotic, just like Jigumi- largely because she has pink hair, and we all know people with pink hair are inherently evil. Look at Sailor Moon. So therefore, Elela must remain evil, and not switch sides halfway through. Also! Six-String Samurai should be coming soon. "Vegas needs a new king", and all. (Despite the fact that it's probably going to be crappy, any movie with that particular line in it is good in my book.) Will soon be going to see Rent, but that doesn't quite count.
drawing
Currently, not much. Finished the hitchiking picture last week, so now I'm not doing anything serious. Feeling the urge to do more Weiss Kreuz fanart, though- Crawford this time, not Farfarello. Sexy, not psychotic. I refuse to draw Shuldich, because he has stupid hair. I refuse to draw any of the Weiss crew, because they're whiny and annoying. I don't know what Nagi looks like, so I can't draw him. Guess I'm stuck with the psycho albino and the guy with glasses, then. I've so got to actually watch this series...but I'm afraid that if I do, I'll hate all the characters, and that would make me sad. I think I'd like to do an Aviator pic- Perry or Miranda in full combat/courier uniform. Some serious VS fanart might be nice, or a Boffo scene of some sort. Dunno.
not doing
Homework. What did you expect?
wanting
Fuck, don't ask me that. To be left alone, for the most part. To not have to worry about people. ...Ice cream. An attention span. To know what exactly I want out of life, among other things. To be able to keep everyone happy and sane and joyful because people should be joyful, damnit. World peace wouldn't be half bad, either, but I'd settle for world-lack-of-outward-violence at this point. To be abused. For my voice not to crack when I'm singing at the top of my lungs. To be able to articulate what I need to say. To know, definitively, that everything really is going to be all right.
avoiding
Homework, speaking, facing certain issues...explaining myself in depth.
waiting
for the rain, for mom to come home, for things to make sense, for the cat to get out of my lap so I can find myself some ice cream, for my homework to do itself.
And that's it for today's current events, lovelies. Have a nice night.