Wonderland of the White Rabbit

Uni...

Wed, 25 Mar 2009 23:10:43 GMT

Well, that's it. All the Universities responded. I was rejected from Cambridge, St Andrews, Durham and Bristol. The last three were all within two weeks of each other. Ouch.

Good news: I received an acceptance to Warwick to read English with Creative Writing, on the condition that I get AABB. I'm predicted AAAA, but my January modules went badly, as in C in English, D in History badly, which doesn't exactly bode well...

Damnit, how do you people pulling 4 and 5 As do it?

Happy New Year...

Sat, 03 Jan 2009 21:56:14 GMT

Resolutions for this year:

1) Get off my arse and get fit.

2) Get a job.

3) Get my predicted grades on my exams.

4) Don't allow this year to suck as bad as last year.

5) Stop getting excited about birthdays; no one remembers.

To those of you who pissed me off last year:

1) I kinda hoped it being my birthday might have inspired you to not fuck off to someone else's house just because they had more alcohol.

2) You cannot use a family party as an excuse if you have already told me that you never have a party.

3) Is it so fucking hard to stand on your own two feet just once? The things you angst at me about are truly ridiculous sometimes. It's like you just can't deal with life, and your life isn't exactly hard.

4) Could you stop being a psycho for just a moment? The constant paranoia is grating to say the least and getting snapped at for saying something completely innocent and perfectly true is rather annoying. Oh, and being rude to my other friends? Not cool. You too, Anonymous No. 3.

5) I've heard of people having two faces, but you have enough faces enough to rival a faceted gem. Just say what you really think; just once. I don't mind blunt, but I can't stand woolly pandering.

6) If I have to hear one more word about how fucking amazing Oxford is, and how fucking amazing you are to have got your acceptance, I will rip off your testicles and gag you with them. Nuff said.

7) Treat people with respect, or get the fuck out. Your bitchiness and bullying is second to none, and I'm so glad I don't have to see it anymore. You are pathetic.

Untruth to be remedied: I messed up my birth date when I first joined LJ and never saw fit to remedy it. I'm 18, not 19. Feel free to be pissed at me if you want. I understand.

Ok, I've said what I wanted to say. As best I can, because I know I'll slip, all grudges stop here. The bitching is done. Let this year be the new leaf.

P.S. Thank you for remembering, Adji. It means so much. *hugs* Hope you had a good New Year.

Gah! Szayel!

Fri, 17 Oct 2008 01:00:02 GMT

Just a quick post before I fall face down, fully clothed, into bed with college first thing... later today. I'm loving how this costume is starting to come together, but dear god do I hate my sewing machine. It won't take the insulation, so I've had to do the whole top section by hand. Wearing it without the velvet on top made me look like some demented Power Rangers extra (*cue silly pose* Textile Ranger!)

Friend of mine is making the headpiec for me, which is great cos it lets me focus on sewing all the fiddly bits which are technically termed 'those drippy blobby things that he has too many of'. The weight of the fabric needed for the skirt alone with all its 'blobby bits' required a corset to help support it XD Dunno how he copes.

Now have to make the wingy bits (another technical term) and finish the sleeves. *sigh* I'd regret this cosplay if the result wasn't so cool.

I'm going to bed. *crawls off*

EDIT: Ooops, forgot. I've also finished the Wonderweiss costume (except his tiara thingy, it's gone walkabout). The Akatsuki coat for my friend still needs its side seam put in. We still have a week though. Plenty of time ^^

Shit

Tue, 30 Sep 2008 23:21:58 GMT

My Nana's been missing since 530pm this afternoon. It's now after midnight, and there's no sign of her. Family are out, police are out. No one's seen anything. She's got Alzheimer's, and she got in a fight with my uncle this afternoon about wanting her independence back (this is while talking about her parents as if they were alive when they've been dead a good thirty years). She stormed out after shouting at him, and didn't come back. Normally they'd just expect her to go down to the cafe she likes, have a drink then come home, but she isn't back.

Shit...

I'm Home...

Sun, 17 Aug 2008 20:49:23 GMT

...being kicked into submission by jet lag (my body clock says it's 5am).

I am so fucking glad to be home. Japan was fun, but I'm not going back in a hurry. The people there are so prejudiced it's ridiculous. No one would sit next to me on the train, even a packed out rush hour train, because I was foreign. They were constantly treating me like a retard and calling me 'gaijin', even after I told them I knew what it meant and could they please use my name.

Sod it, I can't be buggered to do the huge Japan post now. It's going to take forever, and I'm too tired. You'll hear all about it soon enough, don't worry.

In other news, I got my exam results. Three As and two Bs, plus a B in A- level Critical Thinking. And I got 100% on two modules, one History, one English Lit. I'm quite pleased with that. Cambridge doesn't seem quite so far away now.

God, I have so much work to catch up on...

(Jay's having a bitch moment after a month's absence)

Mon, 07 Jul 2008 00:24:26 GMT

WHY is being asian a prerequisite for being a good cosplayer! What the fuck?! Why do these fucktards keep telling me to give up cosplaying just because I'm not asian, and therefore could never even be as good as a bad asian cosplayer, let alone a decent one?

WHAT THE HELL!

WHY do they insist on comparing the worst of the caucasian cosplayers with the best of the asian cosplayers, and then claiming that the WORST is the general standard for everyone over here! The asian cosplayers apparently even cosplay european and american characters better than the europeans and americans! Yes, if the cosplay itself is better, then it's better, but it makes no sense for the costume to be superior on the basis that the person wearing it is from (for example) Korea as opposed to Britain.

Yes, there are a hell of a lot of good asian cosplayers out there, and yes, there are a hell of a lot of BAD caucasian cosplayers out there. The asian cosplayers aren't all perfect dammit! Just like all the caucasian cosplayers aren't shite!

(end rant)

That all probably sounded horribly racist. It really wasn't meant to be. It's not the cosplayers themselves, it's those few arseholes (particularly the creators of those Best/Worst cosplay sites) who've made this ridiculous decision concerning cosplay, and have decided to shove their views down our throats too.

And to the fucktard who sparked this off in the first place: No, the Szayel cosplay has not been called off because of your ridiculous preaching. Neither has Gin, Deidara, Kanda or Sugino. Do you get the picture? And if I choose to go into town cosplaying, then I fucking well will, and if you choose to TRY to PUBLICLY humiliate me about it again then I will beat you into submission verbally (and physically) just like I did this time.

Meme!

Thu, 29 May 2008 00:51:36 GMT

1. Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like.
2. Put iTunes or equivalent media player on random.
3. For each song that plays, write something related to the theme you picked inspired by the song. You have only the time frame of the song: no planning beforehand: you start when it starts, and no lingering afterward; once the song is over, you stop writing. (No fair skipping songs either; you have to take what comes by chance!)
4. Do 5 of these, then post.

Fandom: Bleach
Characters: Soifon (which spelling of her name is the right one?), though mentions are made of Yoruichi, Urahara and Zaraki ^^
Pairing: Dunno, possibly the tiniest, weeniest suggestion of Urahara/Yoruichi
Rating: PG, I guess
Notes: First time writing Soifon ^^;; Be gentle?

In Pieces- Linkin Park

It’s not fair. She can’t stand there, as if the past decades have gone without a murmur, as if she didn’t up and leave, didn’t abandon her protégé to an empty seat in an empty room. She can’t stand there, with that same protégé, now a Captain and head of the Division she once deserted, collapsed at her feet, sobbing the pieces of her heart out in the dirt and act as if nothing is wrong.

How can she not be crying too? Why isn’t she the one in the dirt, begging for forgiveness, sobbing and screaming into the mess she’s made? Why can’t she be the one who cries over her regrets when no one is looking, and do her job because she has to?

Why?

The Lost Art of Keeping Secrets- Queens of the Stone Age

She had always been good with secrets. It was the nature of the job. Mouth shut, knowledge buried deep, even under threat of torture. That tongue would remain still for as long as the secret need remain a secret.

She forgot that Yoruichi was good with secrets too. She shouldn’t have assumed that those same secrets didn’t apply to her, that the mouth shut, silent nature of their Division could one day backfire on her in the most horrific, heart breaking way possible.

The day she comes haring in, and that seat stands empty, she realises that she hates secrets. Yet her tongue remains still, her heart locked, and it isn’t until the ex resident of that empty seat falls back into her life that it all comes pouring out.

She hates secrets.

Jealousy- Stereophonics

She despises Urahara. It is a simple fact, though its simplicity seems to have passed Yoruichi by. Can it be so hard to understand that Soifon, the young girl she left behind to chase this man into exile, would hate him to his very bones? If she was ever given the chance she’d break him, regardless of Yoruichi, however highly Soifon thinks of her. This man stole her happiness and she will make him pay.

What she won’t admit, what burns her deeper, is that it isn’t him that she really hates. He is only a convenient scapegoat. What she can’t admit is that really she hates Yoruichi. Yoruichi is the one who chose Urahara over Soifon, who would follow him into exile rather than stay with her protégé.

Jealousy is an ugly thing, but what’s really hidden there, beneath the hero worship and maybe love, is much, much worse.

This is the Sea- Waterboys

Soifon has never seen the sea. There is no sea in Soul Society, though if one wished to make a metaphorical quip one could claim the Rukongai to be a sea of sorts. A sea of souls working for a place, trying for a place, dying for a place. That’s the sea she’s used to, a sea of extremes, of life and death, where a few lucky souls are plucked free of the rush and saved from drowning.

The true sea is nothing like this. The blue glitter cast out before her, rippling and sparkling, is so great in its immensity, so beyond her in its majesty, that she feels suddenly small. It has all become nothing: her trials, unhappiness, jealousy, hate. It has been washed away by a sudden awareness of greater things, swept away by the continuous roar of the surf, the sweep of the waves as they caress the sand.

This sea is not the sea of the Rukongai. That sea is chaos, life and death, always swarming, always rushing. The immense blue of the Human World’s sea may have that too but it holds so much more than that. It is everything, holds everything within it, and the ripple of its waves are the very heartbeat of this world.

Take No Rogues- Seth Lakeman

She’s heard of the ryoka, in the meetings and the whispers of the shinigami masses as they rush to spread their rumours across the Seireitei.

A hunt has been declared today. Zanpakuto unsheathed, force allowed. No prisoners if they resist, or that is how Soifon has chosen to interpret it. They are a danger, and must be removed. Let the other Captains keep their peaceful, soft ways. She will not endanger hers for the sake of intruders. If ryoka threaten her home, her duty, her subordinates, she will ensure they are removed.

For now though, it seems the others are more than happy to take care of the problem. She can feel the reiatsu of Division Eleven’s Captain already moving in their direction. He’ll take care of it.

City of Blinding Lights- U2

Seireitei stands as beacon tonight, glowing in the darkness of a sunset just passed, the lights upon its walls throwing out shadows to dance wildly upon every surface. Every so often one will take a recognisable shape as a shinigami passes by, before the light drowns it again in dreamy half images and flickering signs.

The lights hurt her eyes. She’s been staring at them all evening, watching the shadows dance in their flickering way, focussed on their movement. Hours have gone by, and now those images have imprinted themselves on her eyes, so even if she were to turn away they would still be there, burned into her retinas, still dancing.

She supposes there is work she should be doing, but it’s become so meaningless at this point. Why not sit and watch the evening lights of Seireitei? Why not act as is not expected of her? No work for her; tonight she’ll do nothing but watch. Watch as it all passes her by, with just an after image to mock her in its absence.

The burnt remainder of shadows rather than an empty chair.

I want to do another one! ^^;; It was fun, even if I kinda screwed her up a bit. Need to work on my characterisation *nodnod* I also need to go to bed ^^;;

Exams

Mon, 12 May 2008 16:29:42 GMT

First two exams of the month today. History and English Lit; could I have got a worse combination for the first day. *And* they were back to back. *And* it meant I was stuck in the isolation room with the other twenty candidates doing the double til half eleven while everyone else got out at quarter past ten (except the people who doubled History with Computing. Poor sods were stuck in til half twelve!)

I think I did OK. I got the questions answered at least, but they were nasty on both papers.

English: "In Antony and Cleopatra, Shakespeare completely agrees with the Roman belief that suicide is a victory, not a defeat." Do you agree?

History: In what ways did the Nazis try to control the experiences of the German youth 1933-39? To what extent did the lives of German workers improve under the Nazi regime 1933-39?

Could have been worse, but could have been a lot better. I got eight pages done, all told: four for the English essay, one and a half for the 20 mark History question, and two and a half for the 40 mark.

After that I was pretty dead, though I made it to the second half of my History double period lesson. I was the only one though. Funny that, considering I was the only one doing the double. Everyone else got out before the double period even started; they should have been there... Ah well, I skipped the rest of my lessons anyway, so who am I to point the finger? They were only revision sessions anyway, so it doesn't matter that much. Why sit in a stuffy classroom with people I don't like and revise, when I can do it sitting out in the garden, in the sunshine?

Now I've only got... *counts on fingers*... fourteen exams to go. Next two on Friday (w00t! Psychology!). I need to get on with my revision... and I have to get three costumes finished in time for the expo; bother. This should be an interesting two weeks ^^;;

P.S. On a complete tangent, I have a fox living under my shed that is the proud mum of two of the most adorable cubs I have ever seen. They were playing in the garden last night .*squees*

Pig Lover...

Mon, 05 May 2008 22:35:35 GMT

http://community.livejournal.com/bleach_rating/500566.html

.....

.....

..... Ok, what? *watches the balls come flying in from left field*

Ganju? Honest to God, Ganju?!

What did I do in my life that was so horrible that I ended up as Ganju?!

*sob* I'm never gonna hear the end of this. TT_TT

Writer's Block: Ghost Story

Mon, 28 Apr 2008 23:02:31 GMT

Do you believe in ghosts? If so, have you ever seen one?

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OK, on a more serious note than my poetry. Yes I do believe in ghosts. I've experienced them quite a lot over the years; It's not something that particularly bothers me, it just seems to happen more to the people who are receptive to it.

At my last house there was girl, younger than me, who called herself Orange (I don't know why). She first appeared when my parents were talking about cutting down this huge tree we had in our back garden, and only stopped visiting when I convinced them not to. She spoke occasionally using automatic writing (if you know what that is) but mostly it was the feeling of her presence when I was in the garden or in one of the rooms that looked out on the garden, a sudden feeling of anxiety.

When my great grandfather died my gran and my mum all had the same dream of him, and their clocks stopped at exactly the same time.

On a smaller note, I remember going to my bedroom door one night and letting my kitten in as she was mewing outside. She ran under the bed as she usually did and I could hear her purring. The doorbell went, and when I opened the door, there were a couple outside who asked me if I owned a little white cat. They'd just run her over. I ran upstairs, back to my room but the purring had stopped. We've moved out of that house now, but I still see her occasionally, running past out of the corner of my eye, or sometimes I'll feel a cat wrapping round my legs and think it's one of my new kittens, and then find them asleep in the laundry basket.

You just get used to living with ghosts after a while.

Writer's Block: Ghost Story

Mon, 28 Apr 2008 22:41:11 GMT

Do you believe in ghosts? If so, have you ever seen one?

View 500 Answers

Spirits are real, you have only to see
Put faith in your eyes, and there they will be
Though some may be known for the fear they inspire
It's few in between that would have that desire
Their home may be dusty, their world gone to mould
The world has kept growing while they remain old
But the full of your life's when you wish for the sun
And wander outside til the day's dance is done
The ghosts choose to stay, but a thief in the dark
Prefering the nightingale over the lark
The shadows are dark as they hide what's unseen
But it's only shy creatures, not something unclean
The few you would meet who would reach out to scare
Are exactly that, few, a demon most rare
If you choose not to look, then blind you'll remain
The spirits' world hidden behind the mundane
They'll cry or they'l laugh, point and make fun
But you'll be oblivious, content with your sun
Just remember that one day you'll be there too
And the one who will go unseen will be you.

I met a ghost once, in a tower of stone
A most renowned castle, but the ghost quite unknown
He sat on the steps that led down to the gate
And kicked his legs, merry despite his clear state
He was small, but a lad much younger than I
Laughing in silence with a grin at the sky
His eyes looked straight through me, to a time far beyond
Where he walked, all opaque, round the bailey's duckpond
He waved, with a grin, to one out of sight
Who responded in kind, for his smile grew bright
But swift, interrupted, he dissolved in the air
Left me to wonder if he'd really been there
The tourguide continued with complete disregard
For the boy on his step, the stone tower's guard
But despite those old centuries that set us apart
The eys that won't see him arrive or depart
That grin, so infectious, will smile til the end
The ghost in his tower, transparent friend.

*sob* such a bad ending...

Uni

Sun, 27 Apr 2008 16:27:25 GMT

Well, they had a Uni day at college this week, and loads of representatives showed up to snag us and talk at us about the joys of their university. I was lucky enough to be snagged by the Cambridge rep, who also turned out to be an English teacher (w00t!) and it turns out the Cambridge English Lit course is basically perfect for me. Only problem is the req. AAA is pretty difficult to get, and the chance of getting in even with that is about 1 in 6. Looks like I will still be applying for the English with CW at Warwick.

Quite a lot of the Unis that were at this thing had creative writing courses, though all combined with english, which I'd prefer to be honest. There was one I really quite liked the sound of, and the requirement's quite high but not impossible like Cambridge is.

Only one problem: it's Swansea.

Nameless

Mon, 21 Apr 2008 22:45:50 GMT

Too many times, and it’s happened again

I’ve been left on my own, with a wish and a pen

The words will start flowing, a river of rhyme

Though I have no music to keep it in time

Tonight the words friendship, a most bitter choice

With too many tangled threads for one voice

Let’s start at the start, where all must begin

To the very first move, and loss of a twin

Who gave up too early, when the threat was addressed

And went with another without being pressed

And so to the border, and into the wild

Dragging along a heartbroken child

Who finds in the first house no friends to relate

Who laugh at the accent and learn how to hate

Months spent all lonely, with no one to try

Left to the side with a tear and a sigh

Move ever higher, to a village remote

Where a guardian devil chose to take note

The friendless was friendless no more

And many more years of this mischief in store!

Even much higher, in a dark uniform

Where a third devil joined to keep their hell warm

But Hell’s frozen over, and back to the south

With no fiends at their back or words in their mouth

Years to sit quiet, hid by a book

Too much a coward to take a good look

Eventually sought the courage to speak

Finding a pack and the heart of a freak

While others moved on, and some with relief

The years of this pack would remain far too brief

For once again, distance has set them apart

And now a new pack must be found for the heart

But while in the highlands, the devils will cry

And howl at the moon while it’s whole in the sky

Others forget, and name you anew

Like the twin who moved on, now they have too

Pack status has changed, and the loner again

Must hide, and play pretend in a strange den

The snow of the Scots would always welcome

And the years sat between would all be undone

But a matter of months and the same won’t apply

While some would be patient, the others go by

Once, being left behind would have terrified

But now watch them go without keeping stride

Look at the moon and realise it’s full

Should they be howling, or ignore the pull?

The finale’s left open, for with no more to say

I'm ending abruptly, and bidding good day.

If you have comments about anything other than spelling and grammar, keep it to yourselves please.

Chire/ Hoero drabble

Mon, 14 Apr 2008 00:04:45 GMT

Ok, I was given the drabble prompt "Reunion" and figured I'd use it for Chire and Hoero, who desperately need some love considering how much time I spend on fanfiction, poetry, etc. I quite like it, though it needs some tweaking, and Ren actually made an appearance for once! Imagine David Attenborough's voice: "And at last we see, the rare, wren sized nightingale, with her exceedingly cute/ irritating birdie voice."

One thing I did do right with this was keep to the count. Five hundred words exactly. I think that's quite clever. Cookies to anyone who spots the anime reference ^_~.

Chire/Hoero- Reunion

Hoero was with Healer Chandra, a student again since his Captain had left. That was not much need for a mage focus when the mage was absent. His hair had come undone from its braid and hung round his face in tangled waves; he gladly hid behind it. Ren attempted to groom out the snarls, but had to admit defeat with a forlorn chirrup. The green of his robes was stained with blood and grass stains, one arm torn open from shoulder to wrist seam. He walked stooped, curled in on himself as if he feared a blow.

A raven cawed, the long croak of recognition. He flinched and his head snapped up, scanning the area around him for the familiar who had spoken. Seeing no one, he turned his gaze back to the dirt. Ren whistled her curiosity in his ear.

“Who? Who?”

“No one, Ren. Silly dream.”

“Oh?” she asked, looking around for the dream. She still took him too seriously sometimes.

“Just a silly fantasy.” He growled to himself, ignoring the pang of denied hope from his heart. “Be quiet, you stupid thing.”

“Up! Up!” whistled Ren, fluttering in excitement. “Up Hoero! Up!” A full throated song erupted from the tiny bird, so unlike a nightingale’s natural range of melancholy tunes. “Please, up!” Ren burst into flight, fleeing upwards to meet the downward spiral of a familiar white raven.

Kuya?

“Hoero!”

Chire dropped from the sky like a falcon in full stoop, flaring his wings at the last possible moment and coming to his feet in a run. Chire threw himself at Hoero and clung to him, laughing delightedly despite his beloved’s shock expression. He span the smaller man round once and then hugged Hoero to him again, the healer still stiff in his arms.

“Did you miss me Hoero?” he whispered in his ear, resting his head on Hoero’s shoulder with a contented sigh. “I’m back. Just like I promised.”

The spell over Hoero was broken at that moment. He flung his arms around Chire and returned the embrace, holding tight as if afraid it would all disappear if he let go. “Just like you promised.” He murmured in Chire’s ear and pulled back to regard him. The healer’s eyes glistened, tears flowing unabashedly down his face. “Gods, I missed you.”

“Well you don’t have to miss me anymore.” said the Captain with a grin. Hoero returned the smile through his tears, and pulled his beloved close for a kiss.

The whooping and whistling of the battalion broke them apart far earlier than they had intended. Sekani grinned at them from the head of the group and whistled ear splittingly, daring them to retaliate.

Chire took the bet. “Right you lot!” he shouted to his men. “It seems that obedience has become a bit slack since I’ve been gone.” His smile was positively evil. “Time to rectify that.” They recognised the blue glow in his hand and scattered across the hillside a second before lightning struck.

Cute, right?

blanc_lapin is a twat

Thu, 03 Apr 2008 22:35:54 GMT

I've just spent the last few days working on an application for an RP, having to be really careful because they were a pre played character (mannerisms have to fit the established personality, etc), and it was practically done and I was quite pleased with it... and then the original player came back. You can't really argue against that, especially since this person apparantly created the RP in the first place.

Go me, I've just made myself look like the biggest prat in the world in front of the moderators, and I think I'm getting on their nerves as it is with my other app which they don't seem hugely enthused with anyway (can't blame them to be honest, I know I can be really irritating). In my last email I already said I was considering apping for another pre played character, now that the one I was considering was definitely gone (the original player is amazing, I wouldn't have had a hope even if they had to app for it as well) but I'm having second thoughts. These guys are really good; I have had a look at the logs for the available pre played characters and I can't match any of the writers. I think I'll just stick with the one person I have, it's only a small part so I can't cock up too badly, right?

It sucks realising you're not up to par, but better now before I screw with someone's well written character. Maybe I can apply again later when I've had more practise...

Sun, 30 Mar 2008 00:39:25 GMT

Well since I'm not entirely sure what's going on (I sortof know but not quite) I tried joining in with both dances which ended up as "Stupid fucking child who should not be allowed to think about shoelaces" dance XD

Writer's Block: Celebrity Sightings

Sun, 30 Mar 2008 00:33:50 GMT

If one day you meet your favorite super star, what questions you would like to do to him/her?

View 501 Answers

How the fuck did you come back to life?

As if I know

Wed, 26 Mar 2008 22:59:13 GMT

Don't ask. I don't know what this is. Call it thought stream, or jibberish, whatever. It just flowed out of my head. I haven't gone over it; just posted it as is. No one'll read it anyway.

I want to write; have to write
Writing almost every night
But why?
Why value it so high?
If we, the amateurs, are but an annoyance?
It’s not just flamboyance
We spend years learning English
Just to learn to write prose
Discover how poetry flows
The rhymes nobody knows
So why break the book, tear out the page
Literature’s what they’re teaching this age
Why be a dunce when you can be a sage?
Don’t stifle it, love it, like when you gush about authors
The laureates learned their craft for reason
How can it not be the season?
Has writing gone out of fashion?
Where is your passion?
Why do you teach when you don’t want to hear?
You’re feeding a crop you don’t want to appear
You’re happy to read but you won’t let them write
Amateur singers, their songs get sung
They’ll go into lessons, while writers get spurned
Taught to be great while our writing gets burned!
They won’t notice when your words have gone dead
Stuck in your head
Going unread
No one will care when the fountain goes dry
Prose left there to die
Wondering why
Teachers will teach, but the words go unheard
Completely absurd!
Teach me of Keats but condemn my own work
He was only a young man, you arrogant jerk
What makes his more deserving than mine?
The length of its time?
Superior rhyme?
What must I do to become just as he?
Or equal Lord Byron, or Mary Shelley?
Why are they art and I am distraction?
What do I need to incite a reaction?
Gain your attraction?
My own satisfaction?
I can’t find the line from here to perfect
The road to respect
What will make me one of them?
Not one you condemn
But read in a class
Perfected at last
Recognised by the society at large
Where is the mark where a teenage frustration
Learned in narration
Finds their salvation?
What must we do to become just as they?
What is the wall that stands in our way?
To whom do we pray?
I want your attention, full comprehension
This is my ascension
Writing’s a gift, no matter your view
Letting it blossom is all down to you
So don’t stifle me while you speak of the greats
I'm not begging for scraps at their lofty gates
Just listen, don’t sneer, when I ask your advice
It’d be nice
I want to write, and I want people to read
Acknowledgement’s what I need
I would like to succeed
Is that greed?

Letter Number 2

Wed, 26 Mar 2008 00:55:06 GMT

Finally, we have the second letter for my 10_lettersclaim: Ukitake/ Unohana. I'm liking this pairing, even if non slash is a rarity with me. If it works it works, you know? (even if it works Zaraki/ Unohana too.) Like the last one, this letter started with one prompt it managed to meander through other various topics as well, particularly love. It's not my fault that Love is also a prompt; when you are writing a couple love tends to come into it every so often.

Anyway, this is a response to Letter 1, which was 'Hate'. Now it's Ukitake to Unohana. This is #8: 'Time'.

Dearest Retsu,

Do not feel ashamed that you wish to see me; I would hope that that were always the case, even if it means sitting with me in the ward rather than out in the gardens, enjoying the sunshine. I know that this will never pass, that these times will never get any easier; I have known it since I first fully understood why my hair was white, why blood would fall from my lips in place of laughter like other children.

There is a limit on the time I can give you; I realise that you understand that, but still I must state it, for myself if not for you. If I had forever, it would be yours, without a moment’s hesitation. I would be yours, heart and soul, what little that it is. And even though that cannot be, even with my abbreviated time, I would be that for you while I am here.

If you wish to be angry with me, do so. There is no wrong in resenting me for the fact that I must leave you. You know that when we are hurt we lash out at those we perceived to have hurt us, whether they are at fault or not. It is only natural then that you would wish to hate me, though I choose to take it in a positive light, for if you would hate me so much for leaving you then your feelings towards me must be a match for the love I have for you. Maybe it is selfish to think of it as such, but you did give me leave to do so, right?

As it is, though I have strayed into that area, I would prefer not to think on such pessimistic matters. Whether I am ill or not, I shall enjoy spending time with you. When this stint ends, maybe I can convince you to stay with me a little longer, perhaps even dinner? I know that the sakura are blooming. We could have a viewing party, just the two of us, or others if you’d be more comfortable that way.

I shall have to end this here, for I can see you glaring at me from the doorway. I know I should be resting, but I seem to spend so much of my time asleep, and how could I let your letter go unanswered? That would be horribly rude of me. Besides, I cannot be too selfish and hog your time completely while I'm here, so if I write you letters then you can enjoy those while you are doing other things, even if it is just by carrying them with you.

I’ll put this by the window; I'm sure you’ll spot it next time you come and check on me. I’ll just pretend to be asleep while you read it. Don’t push yourself too hard today love. You can’t be everything for everyone either.

Be well my healer, my heart.

Jūshirō

Meme

Sun, 23 Mar 2008 19:15:22 GMT

Tagged by enaranie

1. You have 50 dollars in your pocket. What do you do with it?
Buy material for my latest cosplay effort: Cooro, Mokona and Wonderweiss.

2. Your ultimate OTP? (fandom or real life)
I don't know what OTP means, so I'm going to take a guess and choose Tylendel/ Vanyel from the Herald Mage trilogy.

3. Have you ever seen someone die?
Dying, not die.

4. Are you confused as to what lies ahead of you?
Yes. I had everything planned out, but now I don't know what I'm doing.

5. If you could choose one place on earth to stay. Where would that be?
Burn o Vat, in the summer.

6. Which is more blessed: Loving someone or being loved by someone else?
The both together. One without the other just leads to misery.

7. If the person you like does not accept you. Would you continue to wait for them to change their feelings?
It doesn't work.

8. If the person you secretly like is already attached. What would you do?
Give up. Move on.

9. Is there anything that has made you unhappy recently?
Being incompetent in love, and other things.

10. What do you want most in life?
To be a part of a pack. I can't explain it any other way.

11. Which of the 7 Deadly Sins do you think you relate to the most & why?
Is Jealousy one of them? If not then Wroth.

12. If you find out that your best friend is going out with your boyfriend/girlfriend. How would you react?
I would be livid. Screaming, shouting, throwing things; generally making a scene. Neither of them would be forgiven. I don't make friends with idiots; both of them would have known better.

13. Who is currently the most important person to you?
My friends.

14. What kind of person do you think you are?
The type who holds a grudge, gets grouchy easily. Tactile, but choosy. Confused.

15. Do you believe there is nothing higher than human kind?
Before I even mention things like Gods, I don't believe we are the highest being in the animal kingdom.
We are capable of evil in a way animals are not. I don't think that makes us higher; that makes us flawed.

16. Which fictional character could you most see yourself marrying?
Can I pick my own? If so, then definitely Shihorin. He's such a sweetie. I'd pick Alynn, but she's not the marriage type. Otherwise...

17. Would you give your all in a relationship?
In the past that has been a big mistake, so I had have to be 100% sure before I did that.

18. Do you have a motto? If yes: Which one?
If you're not wasted, the day is? Or how about: dyslexic devil worshippers sell their soul to Santa?

19. What type of friends do you like?
Loyal. Accepting. Open.

20. Do you have an all time favorite song?
Weirdly enough, it's ’Living on a Prayer’ by Bon Jovi.

Writer's Block: Greatest Accomplishment

Thu, 20 Mar 2008 00:54:02 GMT

What is your greatest accomplishment? What was the journey to get there?

View 388 Answers

Breaking free.

Writer's Block: My favorite memory

Wed, 19 Mar 2008 01:12:24 GMT

What is one of your favorite memories?

View 502 Answers

Hmmmm... I seem to have done it again...

A memory tucked away, far in the past
Closely warm times that never could last
Time lost in decades, but a child of three
Sitting on a lost great grandad's high knee
Laughing along to the songs with a smile
Completely unknowing how short was the while
Enjoying the words that she yet couldn't speak
And the mischief only great grandads can wreak
Looking a boy in a floral pink dress
Alight with an innocence only babes can possess
Horsey horsey and little miss muffet
singing along with the pair on the tuffet
And incy the spider, though much bigger then
And scarier when in the bath he'd been penned
But never flushed down, only caught in a glass
And put out in the garden to play in the grass.

But older we grow, and the memories pass
Up through the nursery, to school and its class
The child without friends who found one in the sun
While painting mummies with their wraps all undone
The flowers were up, and the blosson was sweet
The grass of the playpark cool on their feet
The roundabouts creaked and the swingsets would fly
The only limit on fun they could set was the sky
And despite all the years that sat in between
That first summer's strength kept the bond keen
A summer of clubs, while the parents must work
In the evening to each others houses to lurk
And even beyond, though the school would divide
And send the grown forward, while the young must abide.

Add on another, when the young grow up too
With a mind full of tales and a heart fit for two
So in a year this triad would grow
And each to the next would their writing bestow
A sharing of characters and birth of some more
Each with a great voice that none could ignore
Nights spent in laughter and days in the game
Not three separate hearts, but each a third of the same
In the snow of the winter, or wind of the warm
Weather each day as the heart of a storm
The magic abound, and it could not say no
When the intent was upon for the story to flow
Magical times, and time most well spent
Though it flowed by so fast, the time to invent
Was lost when the youngest must move far away
And leave telling stories for a much later day
Now they are separate, a border betwixt
With a break in the time that could not be fixed.

Though not yet a memory, the healing begins
And sheds the grey years along with their sins
And the stories will flow, as they once did before
Now in the hands of a much bigger corps
with friends that were added in a time of exile
Though the triad remained at her side all the while
And now that they're older, so much more they'll spin
Each to their own, with a thread and a grin
Shared, those tales will grow in their might
And one day be ready for a publisher's height
Or not, if content they remain in the shade
Content with the stories each other have made.

So to the grandfather, and song on his knee
To the very first friends, an insepperable three
To the great coven, who accepted a shade
Who grew mouthy and happy only with their aid
To the family, both of choice and of blood
Who have stayed loyal, through fire and flood
This is for you, the closest of friends
For past, present, future; let's see how it ends.

Snippets

Mon, 17 Mar 2008 22:46:54 GMT

These have no real place to go, but I felt like posting them here cos I'm still happy with them. They're not drabbles (though some are more than long enough to be) they're just little snippets of story I wrote, starring my current two characters: Hoero and Chire. Their world isn't quite sorted yet, all I know is that they are involved in a war, both on the same side, where Hoero is a healer and Chire is the Captain of a battalion of mages. You may see a character called Shihorin turn up occasionally; he's Captain of the first mage battalion, and the highest ranking mage in the army.

Hoero is something called a mage focus, though it's really more like a mage battery. He's got a huge store of raw magical power in him that he can't use as he has no talent for magic (healing is considered separate from magic; please don't ask me to explain why). However, mages can use it, and mage focuses are actually in high demand. That's how he ends up with the 2nd battalion, under Captain Chire, and from there goes on to be, quite literally, under Captain Chire.

It may be that none of these snippets will have a bearing on the main storyline, they are just small flashes of inspiration while I was exploring these characters. There's one in particular I know will never happen as it would leave a protagonist rather irrevocably dead. Not a good position to be in as a protagonist

Anyway, that should clarify most of what's to follow. If you don't get something, just ask and I'll clarify. (I may have to make an exception with the magc thing though; it takes quite a while to explain, and it's not hugely interesting.) Each snippet's separated by a double line break, so you don't get confused.

It's good to know that when he comes stumbling in, half blind with fatigue and sick to his stomach from the loss of his energy, that when he finally falls, amid the shouts and commands of his panicked comrades, that someone will be there to catch him. Someone will hold him close and whisper comfort in his ears, while his heart flutters like Ren's wings and his breath comes too swift and shallow. When the healer’s driven himself into the ground and the world’s still falling away from beneath him, despite his attempts to hold on to it, those hands will still be holding him, that voice will still be whispering.

When the world fades away, he’ll still be safe.

It happened in snippets. They’d watched him slowly kill himself with the work, 21 hour days, seven days a week. Working, always working. One day, he’d come in to find his workload slightly lightened. He frowned, but moved to do all that he should. The next week more was missing. He grumbled but did as he knew he should. The next week his paperwork had been portioned out among the staff, with none for him to do. He’d thrown himself into field work instead. Worked the hours normally spent doing paperwork draining himself working with the dying. One of his three hours sleep that night was kept for worrying about how he wasn’t doing enough.

He was banned the next day. Not allowed anywhere near paperwork, or field work. It’s a vacation. You need the rest. We can handle it. That’s what they said. The first night he panicked and didn’t sleep at all. They’d finally realised they didn’t need him. The second night he forgot to eat. They know. They’ve realised. I’m not needed. I’ve become obsolete. No use for a worn out toy now.

It happened in snippets. His mind broke away in panicked fragments as they took the meaning from his life. In being kind, they were heartlessly cruel. Ironic that. Kind to be cruel. On the third day a tiny nightingale flew into the healers’ main tent and died without a note on the captain’s desk; wing and heart broken. Her partner was found cold out in the woods. Shihorin had to cut him down.

When he realised that Hoero was drugging him so that he’d rest, he spent the next three days awake, burning the concoctions from his bloodstream by the force of his will and strength of his magic. Somehow, the rings he saw round his eyes when he looked into the water trough on the third day were a badge of pride. The worry in Hoero’s eyes when he saw him was a victory.

When the strain finally floored him on the sixth consecutive day, bleeding on the battlefield with his lover glassy eyed beside him, he realised how hollow that victory was.

It’s happened again. He’s a focus now, he knows this. Not a healer, not anymore. But they were still dying at his feet regardless, whether he could heal them or not. Dying, with their blood all sticky and red and coating his hands when he tried to keep it in them, begging no one in particular to let him use his gift, even as someone else drained him with theirs.

When they finally returned from the field he wanted to run. He wanted to run like he had the first time, long and hard, out in the rain, sopping wet and sobbing. He wanted to run til his legs hurt and then keep running still, because running meant he didn’t have to look at the pleading eyes, the grasping hands and the red, sticky sticky blood that just won’t wash off no matter how much rain falls.

Chire catches him before he can bolt and holds him tight, regardless of his efforts to escape, regardless of the blood that’s staining his clothes, staining those perfect white wings. In the end sorrow and helplessness drag the healer to his knees and he weeps, exhausted in his sorrow. The captain holds him, whispering soft comfort, and doesn’t let him run, holds him here and tells him that he will make it all right.

As he slips away into oblivion, Hoero believes him.

He watched Sekani order the battalion out with a heavy heart. The mages were lined up perfectly, standing to attention, the aura of their power already swirling around them in a single collective. He smiled to them as they turned to face him, reassuring in the face of another battle.

His heart wasn’t in it. He and Hoero had fought the night before, something trivial that had escalated until they had almost come to blows. He’d been so angry… said things he didn’t mean. Hoero had run from him in the end, and spent the night in someone else’s tent.

Chire had had the last word in the end.

“It is you who is the weak one here. You cannot stand unaided; you need me. I, however, do not need you.”

Those words were proving incorrect now. Hoero wasn’t among the ranks of his battalion; he’d been pulled out by his fellow healers due to too much stress being put on his capabilities. He was not among those seeing them off either though.

Hoero wasn’t coming. Distracted as he was, and unable to do anything about it despite his acknowledgement of the fact, Chire wondered if he was going to be coming back from this battle. He scanned the crowd one more time then turned to his loyal group.

“Move out.” He ordered, the Captain back in his voice if not his heart.

To the crowd he raised a half salute, but was caught before he could turn back by a blur of green and hurried brown.

“Come back to me.” Hoero whispered against his lips and kissed him fervently, heedless of the stunned group behind him, or the good natured whistles of the few mages who had noticed. The healer’s warm arms wrapped around him, holding them in a perfect meld for a moment that lasted longer than a lifetime.

When Hoero finally pulled away, Chire stared into the healer’s grey eyes, trying to remember to breathe. Hoero smiled, a dazzling smile, and Chire was almost overcome by the love he saw there. Love that didn’t heed petty arguments. Love that forgave and forgot, and had only grown in the short time they’d been apart.

“I’ll wait for you.”

Waking in the Captain’s bed had not been part of his dinner plans. With the temporary peace in the midst of the chaos, even if it was only long enough for you to pause and breathe, the overworked had decided to enjoy themselves. Quite liberally in fact. Drinks all round, even the healers who recognised the danger that drink represented. For that night, they couldn’t have cared less.

He didn’t really remember what happened after drink three. His comrades had been kicking up quite a fuss before hand, and he was almost certain that Sekani had launched into an enthusiastic round of a song he didn’t want to remember the words to, but after that the world had become rather fuzzy and wouldn’t stay straight.

Chire stirred beside the healer and looked up with muzzy eyes, liquid gold in the half light. He smiled the smile of a contented feline, and sat up. “Morning beautiful.” He purred, sending a shiver down Hoero’s spine. The younger man blushed and muttered apologies, climbing out of the bed with his eyes down at all times.

He was caught before he got halfway. Chire’s arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him back, til he rested with his head on the captain’s chest. He lay there for a moment, completely stiff, until Chire chuckled.

“You’re blushing so hard I can feel it. And relax. I’m not going to hurt you. It’s too early to be going anywhere, and I doubt you’re capable of walking in a straight line yet. Just get some sleep and you can finish blushing in the morning.”

Hoero was sure his face was the same colour as a tomato by this point, but he did as he was told and relaxed. He tried not to think about how nice it pillowing his head on Chire’s chest, hearing the gentle heartbeat beneath his skin. Tried not to focus on the arm still around his waist and how much he wanted it to stay there.

“Shush,” the captain whispered in his ear, “I can hear you thinking, you’re focusing so hard. Relax and go to sleep.” His breathing evened out very quickly, falling into the soft pattern of sleep, while Hoero remained awake and pondered his situation.

Better to make the best of a bad situation, He decided, and made himself comfortable, falling asleep almost immediately. It was a bad situation. Honest.

Writer's Block: In this perfect world

Sun, 16 Mar 2008 18:16:17 GMT

What is your idea of a perfect world? Why do you feel this way?

View 500 Answers

What is your idea of a perfect world?

All choices are based on the world that you see
One may choose hope, and the other money
You might wish for more to those who have less
Another may ask to clean up war’s mess
Should the world be our earth, or maybe just you?
Is your heart big enough for the rest of them too?
If it’s not, don’t be guilty, but think of yourself
You may still help the world, though it sits on the shelf
For perfection, look for the things you desire
Then just extend them to fit the entire
If you want peace, then peace for them all
If money’s the game, then let the wealth fall
No more disease, so have all of them well
And from this good health, maybe joy will soon swell
Be it money, or health, no death or no war
Joy is the end we will always look for
So I ask for joy, even if it brings grief
(And maybe an answer that little more brief ^^)

Why do you feel this way?

If I answered in prose it would not succeed
And my poetic answers are more fun to read
Since it’s called Writer’s Block, I use it for just that
Answer when I find that my writing’s gone flat
It’s not that I want to show disrespect
If your answer is different it is still correct
Even more so than mine, for you write on the theme
While I make mine fit to a double rhyme scheme.

As to why I want joy, well the answer is clear
There is too much grief in the world, too much fear
For those who have grief, I would they had joy
They should go hand in hand, so both you employ
To only have one is a sorrow indeed
For joy is the motive we have to succeed
It is love, it is kindness, and everything good
A reason to act in the way that we should
So Joy is the thing I would give and protect
And if I could, then it would be perfect.

First Letter

Sun, 16 Mar 2008 00:16:11 GMT

It started with the prompt Hate but managed to meander its way through Love as well. Even so, I kept it as Hate just because that was the prompt that inspired it, though it may not be the best fitting. There's a bit of rambling, but that's normal in letters so it doesn't bother me overmuch. Anyway, enough chatter.

Title: Prompt #4- Hate
Rating: G
Fandom: Bleach
Character: Unohana Retsu to Ukitake Jūshirō
Author's Notes: First time writing Retsu; oh dear.

My Dear Jūshirō,

It seems we will be spending a lot more time together in the next few weeks. This good spell lasted for a respectable while, though still not long enough. It saddens me to realise that a part of me looks forward to these times, as it is the most time I can spend with you. The two of us are so busy with our roles as Captains, teachers and carers that we often neglect the role of partners; lovers.

Knowing you as I do, I understand that you will forgive my less than kind admission, even apologise for not making enough of an effort to see me, as if it were your fault alone; you give me too much credit sometimes. You spend yourself by trying to do everything, stretching yourself too thinly as you try to be everything for everyone. It only makes me love you more, even though it hurts my heart to see the wreck you make of yourself by doing so.

You’ve made me love you so much; I sometimes wonder if I have the heart to contain it, but even then you have heart enough for both of us, and you have given me yours so completely. I have been bound by red thread and I do not wish to break free, even if that yarn is dyed by blood, even if, regardless of my wishes, eventually it must snap.

Sometimes, in my more impulsive moments, I want to hate you. I want to hate you for tying me to you so permanently, when you cannot offer the same intransience. But those are thoughts for the younger generation, for those whose hearts are still fed by a great flame, that inferno that makes them love and hate with equal potency.

We are more like the ocean; we who have watched these little fires grow up. Slower to anger and slower to love perhaps, but when we are stirred to either there is no force in the world that can match us. In the same way that fiery anger, railing against an injustice that cannot be cured, anger more fitting for a younger time, shall be quenched by the insurmountable love of an ocean.

Love will always outlast anger; through the blood, the pain, the sickness. Love will heal you where my abilities are unable to, and it will heal me of my selfish thoughts, calm that flame when it chooses to bloom. It will keep us content when the time we are absent from each other stretches long into the future, and it makes the renewal of our intimacy that much sweeter.

Though it is selfish, I look forward to seeing you. I would ask that you be selfish as well; think of yourself for a change, and let someone else be everything for everyone. You have earned the right to rest, and I will see that you do. I will watch over you while you heal, and so I will finally unite those roles that have divided me. A partner and a healer, but only as one for you.

Keep as well as you may, my love. The ocean is yours.

Retsu