The Sacrifice on Railroad Tracks

When I take 48 hours to set up an RP

2006-02-16T00:33:27Z

ALRIGHT GUYS.

touchstonecorp

This is the RP community I was musing over previously. Please go join and please help advertise! If you have any questions, just comment here or send me an email.

[EDIT] I'm also looking for Mods to help me out. Anyone interested?

When I finally get some guts

2006-02-14T01:40:30Z

So I've been thinking (oh wow), how about some more RP action in my life? I mean, the RPs lately have been all filled up and so...old that I really don't have the interest to join or catch up. So ah-hah, observe the idea.

Would you (people who like TV fandoms like 24, House MD, CSI, prison break, etc.) join an RP that included those fandoms? Easy question right? Okay next, so since those fandoms are all 'government' or 'medical' based, right, how about an RP that was strictly for those genre? You know, it'd be like a multi-fandom RP only not for all fandoms, just a select few that fit in the category (so things don't get too crazy and because personally, I am not as married to my TV as I may seem)?

Okay, I understand it's hard for it to make sense. So basically, I'm thinking about an AU RP on livejournal that's for fandoms that are, I repeat, based on 'government' or 'medical' things (so Buffy, for example, would not work where as Alias, would)? How does that sound? I swear the idea is so much cooler than I make it sound.

So basically, I just want to get an idea as to how many people would want to join, you know? So I don't waste my time RPing with myself which is...really kind of a sad concept.

So give me some FEEDBACK people okay?

When a snow day goes far

2006-02-13T14:14:44Z

AHAHAH SNOW? YES. NO SCHOOL? YES. I LIKE AMERICA TODAY? YES.

Yesterday I went out shopping with Jenny which reminds me of how much I love this girl to bits. She's so wonderful to be with it might drive me crazy one day - in a good way. We ate chocolate strawberries (although I kind of ate the chocolate first and then the strawberry because I'm OCD like that) and basically ravished every single store worth looking at. Because I'm a stingy little stuck up porcupine, I only bought two things - this hot blazer from H&M and two tank tops from NY&C (which we almost had to fight for because the cashier was a she-devil deep down inside). Everyone was at the mall apparently and I see Rachel everywhere. Ah Rachel. Because you have Mozilla and can't comment on my LJ (for some reason), I pity you. Our relationship is so dysfunctional it's highly amusing. But shut up about that Superman watch - you don't have one, you're delusional.

Today was totally lax (woah, slag?). I was forced to practice 4 hours of piano but that's alright. We (mother and father and I) sat down in the afternoon and watched the Matrix. Then we ate like two boxes of chocolate and watched some sports and then re-runs of 24, season one. Tonight around 10:00 we're gonna watch Grey's Anatomy and probably compare it unconciously to House MD. Again. Grey's Anatomy probably won't win. Again. Even though we still like the show.

Been writing. Good stuff. When I have a more solid idea, I'll share.

Speaking of which. I guess I've been delayed on the ficcage. I'll catch up on that today.

...SoiwasthinkingaboutmakinganRPGanyonewannamodwithme?

Say "How you doin'?"

2006-02-07T23:18:02Z

Today's temperature was whacky. It went from cold to hot to cold and now it's just flat freezing. I have two tests comming up one of which I still don't know...anything about. It annoys me also because I have to study but that new episode of House MD is on Fox at 9:00. Either I have to figure out how to work my tape recording machine (do I even have one?) or I have to cram and just watch it on the dot. I'm probably going to end up doing a weird mix of the two (But leaning more towards the second one).

I realized that I've been posting more fics in this journal than my actual personal life. Hey, I mean, who wants to read about my personal life anyway? Plus I have the tendency to write more about myself elsewhere (I've lost count of how many blogs I have). But I like the fact LJ has, you know, human enteraction that's actually alive. It's comforting.

I'm almost done with a few stuff for bodyandsoul100. I find it's a very good source of exersize for my inner muse. You should all go check it out. For drabbles100 I guess I'll wait until something smashes into me. Stuff like that I just can't seem to think up. It has to be spur of the moment or something. I'm almost done also with another CSY: NY fic (Danny and Mac this time) which is great; if only I knew how to end it.

I have come to realization that I totally need a Beta. Anyone willing to take up the challenge of reading my crap?

wilson!drabble #82 for drabbles100

2006-02-05T23:39:44Z

I just came back from another performance and my hair is still drying. But hey, uh, drabble!

Title: The Universal Language
Fandom: House MD
Characters: James Wilson (centric), Gregory House
Prompt: #82: Deaf
Word Count: 225
Rating: G
Summary: Music is the universal language; Wilson occasionally falls victim to it.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Many people would say thank goodness at this moment.

Elbowing open the glass door that divided the hallway from House’s office, Wilson brandished the patient’s file as he stepped into the room

“Well we couldn’t get much from the first biopsy but –” Wilson began but stopped. “House, are you listening?”

His question went unheard. House was lying on his back, on the floor, his ears covered by a pair of silver Boze earphones. His better foot nodded along with the beat of the music, his eyes closed.

Wilson placed his hand – the one not holding the folder – against his hip. “House,” he said again, louder. There was no response. He continued. “The patient has a rash on his lower abdomen and around his joints. At first we thought it was cancerous but after he stopped responding to treatment we – House!”

He stomped his foot because House had just rolled over onto the side, facing the opposite wall of the room.

“I –” Wilson tried again but gave up, throwing up his hands. “Okay fine!” he shouted, over the incoherent pounding of music, “Fine, I’ll go with you to that monster truck show on Saturday okay, now will you listen to me?”

The music stopped. House turned and sat up, taking the earphones off. “Relax,” he said, “The patient’s just got an allergic reaction.”

Wilson nodded and rubbed at the migraine in-between his eyes.

House/Wilson!fic (omg?)

2006-02-05T05:11:23Z

Rather short one almost (only two pages in Word). Try to ignore the fact that it seems to make less and less sense as you read along to the end. Yes.

Title: Arms Filled With Lavender
Author: conquiste
Pairing: Gregory House/James Wilson
Rating: (Hard) PG-13 - borderline R
Content Warning: Slash
Summary: Wilson smells of something different every other day of the week.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.

"...then [he’ll] surprise you, arms filled with lavender."
- Tori Amos, "Ribbons Undone"

Wilson, House muses as he presses the younger man against the wall, smells interestingly of lavender today. It is a gentle sort of whiff, House notices, that is not a lonesome, singular aroma, because as he lowers his nose to press against Wilson’s neck he swears he can smell a mix of fresh honey and hibiscus, even a splash of spicy magnolia. The scent swivels in an intoxicating whirlwind of desire in his brain and shivers down his veins, taking seizure of his nerves.

He drags his fingers down Wilson’s side, tickling almost, featherlike. He rests a heated palm against a jutting hip bone, squeezing slightly. He inhales deeply. The traces of lilac blossoms make House smile although he is bitter even as he nips at the skin of Wilson’s throat, tentatively, possessively. Wilson breathes in a sharp and shaky breath, shallow.

Yesterday Wilson smelled of gardenias. The day before, he smelled of cheap wine and peppermint roses. And for a moment House almost feels cheated, but he knows Wilson cannot commit; he can’t be reigned in and caged because that would destroy him. He shifts from one pair of arms on Wednesday to another set of lips on Friday, and keeps going. It is not a cycle, it’s a spiral and it keeps him alive, feeds him, even though he will never be placated. That’s why the aromas cling to him; that's why they change – House is sure – marking Wilson like a venomous tattoo, a vicious rope burn from a merciless lover.

The imagery, the thought of it, makes House bite down sharper, press harder. Wilson whimpers desperately. That area on his neck will bruise and so will his lips. He will have to come up with an excuse about why, tomorrow. Sometimes House has a problem remembering how to be gentle.

House feels like he has no control over his hands anymore. They smear beneath Wilson’s shirt, reaching the sweet salvation of skin. They scrape along the chest, the abdomen, the spine. They leave fire in their wake; flames so scorching they’re arctic. Wilson can only shudder and arch his body to fit those pleasing hands as they run their desired course. His fingers cling onto the fabric of House’s t-shirt, fearing what might happen if he ever lets go.

When they kiss, it is all teeth and tongue, heat and moisture. Wilson tastes fresh and electric, like a drug, House thinks, but only much better. Their belt buckles click against each other almost impatiently and Wilson makes another noise but House pauses. He slowly, reluctantly pulls himself apart from his friend and admires his work. A rather ravished, breathless Wilson stares up at him. House inhales softly and the scent of alice-blue flora almost drives him a little crazy.

So he places a hand against the side of Wilson’s cheek, just slightly, and brushes the flushed skin there with the tips of his fingers. A secret promise is placed in that caress. No words are spoken nor exchanged.

House turns slowly with a small nod and straightens his outfit as he limps back to his office. And for a moment, he almost wants Wilson to stop him, but Wilson does not. He never does and he never will.

wilson!drabble for drabbles100. Prompt #11: Red

2006-02-04T21:15:39Z

Just one for today. I scribbled this on the car while we were driving around Chinatown. I'll tell ya, the city seemed awful gray today.

Title: Ring of Roses
Fandom: House MD
Characters: James Wilson (centric), Allison Cameron
Prompt: #11: Red
Word Count: 190
Rating: G
Summary: He can tell when she’s been crying. The problem is he can never do anything about it.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Wilson looked up when Cameron knocked on his office door.

“MRI showed it was a tumor,” she said, leaning halfway through the door, her palms on the frame. “It’s…terminal.”

For a moment, Wilson simply sat at his desk behind stacks of unfinished paperwork and watched her. The words she spoke were ones he was used to hearing.

Her eyes were ringed with a rose-like redness, probably from over-rubbing. She seemed to be waiting for him to do something, say something; but Wilson could only nod once and say, “Okay.”

Cameron made an attempt to smile; she failed. Turning on her heel, she started to leave but Wilson stopped her, saying, “Hey, wait.”

She turned back and gave him a questioning glance. Wilson opened and closed his mouth a few times, wanting to say something ridiculous like, ‘let’s go get some ice cream later’ or ‘how about I treat you to lunch?’ but nothing came out.

Cameron filled the silence with an uncertain, “Yes, Dr. Wilson?” and stared at him. She suddenly seemed so small, so tired.

Wilson rubbed a hand against his neck and got up. “I’ll tell the patient.”

The Benjy Hawker (Original Character) Table (for bodyandsoul100)

2006-02-04T02:49:05Z

001.	Magic	002.	Good	003.	Evil	004.	Dream	005.	Nightmare
006.	Truth	007.	Lies	008.	Loyalty	009.	Hero	010.	Villain
011.	Love	012.	Hate	013.	Hope	014.	Despair	015.	Power
016.	Weakness	017.	Light	018.	Dark	019.	Time	020.	Pretend
021.	Adult	022.	Freedom	023.	Chains	024.	Trust	025.	Longing
026.	Humor	027.	Fun	028.	Battle	029.	Tears	030.	Heart
031.	Sport	032.	Odd	033.	Normal	034.	Music	035.	Poetry
036.	Tales	037.	Quote	038.	Black and White	039.	Fine Line	040.	Positive
041.	Negative	042.	Never-ending	043.	Celebration	044.	Blossom	045.	Belief
046.	Sweet	047.	Sour	048.	Frozen	049.	Burned	050.	Reassurance
051.	Defeat	052.	Betrayal	053.	Lust	054.	Greed	055.	Gold
056.	Silver	057.	Flashback	058.	Self-esteem	059.	Pride	060.	Dull
061.	Sparkle	062.	Clean	063.	Beautiful	064.	Alone	065.	Dress up
066.	Animal	067.	Motion	068.	Dance	069.	Play	070.	Fantasy
071.	Deisre	072.	Serenity	073.	Eyes	074.	Body	075.	Science
076.	Art	077.	Religion	078.	Top of the World	079.	Flight	080.	Stand tall
081.	Run	082.	Protect	083.	Close but far	084.	Stars	085.	Sun
086.	Intimacy	087.	Kiss	088.	Hug	089.	Smile	090.	Frown
091.	Destiny	092.	Sacrifice	093.	Memories	094.	Happy Ending	095.	Life Worth Living
096.	Choice	097.	Choice	098.	Choice	099.	Choice	100.	Choice

Wilson!fic [For Drabbles100, because I'm nuts]

2006-02-04T01:42:23Z

[Disclaimer: I own nothing. Many people would say thank goodness at this moment.]

Title: Photostat
Fandom: House MD
Characters: James Wilson (centric), Gregory House, Lisa Cuddy
Prompt: #79: Agony
Word Count: 108
Rating: G
Summary: The reason why Princeton-Plainsboro does not have any promotional photos of their staff.

There is a collective groan right after the click of the camera shutter and Wilson cannot help but grit out, poisonously sweet, through the corner of his mouth, "C’mon, House, smile." He is only rewarded however, with a look of mock annoyance from the Head of Diagnostics. Wilson ignores it and forces his eyes to face the camera for the fifteenth time that day, tired. The photographer begins to count down, again, from three. At one, House yawns exaggeratingly loud. Wilson throws up his hands and impatiently yells something unintelligible right as the camera flashes. Cuddy steps on his foot with a growl; she is wearing high heels.

Title: Marathon
Fandom: House MD
Characters: James Wilson (centric), Gregory House
Prompt: #80: Healing
Word Count: 121
Rating: G
Summary: Wilson finds the prospect of a free lunch very appealing.

Wilson waves the crutch clumsily but threateningly at House’s smirking face.

"Don’t start," he says. House shrugs, feigning innocence, his eyes growing wide and doe-like. Wilson can see through his act instantly and fumes a little before swerving dangerously against the support clutched under his armpit. His ankle throbs. House’s face suddenly falls impassive, serious. He gets up and hobbles over saying, "Put your weight into your palms and wrists or else you’ll wind up with sore shoulders. Try not to lean; you’ll stress the muscle."

Grumbling, Wilson repositions himself and takes a step. He smiles.

"Race you to the cafeteria," House says, already at the door, his back turned. "Loser pays for lunch." Wilson can hear the smirk.

"You’re on."

My James Wilson (House MD) Table (for drabbles100)

2006-02-03T23:47:59Z

001.	Beginnings	002.	Middles	003.	Ends	004.	First	005.	Last
006.	Hours	007.	Days	008.	Weeks	009.	Months	010.	Years
011.	Red	012.	Grey	013.	White	014.	Black	015.	Blue
016.	Purple	017.	Brown	018.	Green	019.	Pink	020.	Colourless
021.	Friends	022.	Enemies	023.	Lovers	024.	Family	025.	Strangers
026.	Teammates	027.	Parents	028.	Children	029.	Birth	030.	Death
031.	Sunrise	032.	Sunset	033.	Too Much	034.	Not Enough	035.	Sixth Sense
036.	Smell	037.	Sound	038.	Touch	039.	Taste	040.	Sight
041.	Shapes	042.	Triangle	043.	Square	044.	Circle	045.	Moon
046.	King	047.	Heart	048.	Diamond	049.	Queen	050.	Joker
051.	Water	052.	Fire	053.	Earth	054.	Air	055.	Spirit
056.	Breakfast	057.	Lunch	058.	Dinner	059.	Food	060.	Drink
061.	Winter	062.	Spring	063.	Summer	064.	Fall	065.	Passing
066.	Rain	067.	Snow	068.	Lightning	069.	Thunder	070.	Storm
071.	Broken	072.	Fixed	073.	Light	074.	Dark	075.	Shattered
076.	Rebirth	077.	Paralysis	078.	Disease	079.	Agony	080.	Healing
081.	Blind	082.	Deaf	083.	Lost	084.	Found	085.	Missing
086.	Choices	087.	Life	088.	He	089.	She	090.	It
091.	Birthday	092.	Christmas	093.	Thanksgiving	094.	Solstice	095.	New Year
096.	Writer‘s Choice	097.	Writer‘s Choice	098.	Writer‘s Choice	099.	Writer‘s Choice	100.	Writer‘s Choice

[FIC] "As in Short for Daniel" (CSI:NY, Danny Messer - centric)

2006-02-03T03:28:20Z

Title: As in Short for Daniel
Author: conquiste
Rating: FRT
Fandom: CSI: NY (Danny Messer centric)
Summary: Danny has a problem with people, himself, and sense. Lucky for him, Flack has a whole lot of sense to go around.

When Danny first met Don, they shook hands in a friendly but convincingly business-like manner and Flack asked, “Danny? As in short for Daniel?” to which, Danny’s face creased gently into a slight frown before quickly being replaced with a brief smile.

“Kind of,” he had said in an almost careless manner as they parted.

Flack asked, his eyes searching, “What do you mean?”

Danny’s shoulders had shifted into a shrug because he was used to these kinds of odd introductions. People in New York were just too curious for their own good.

“Just call me Danny,” he replied already well rehearsed.

Seeming a bit intrigued, Flack pressed, “So, it’s just Danny then?”

“Just Danny.”

“Oh.”

And at that point most conversations of this kind and nature would have stopped with Danny turning his back so not to see whatever glances of wonder would be shot his way. However Flack had smiled, a genuine movement as he was compelled to do by nature, and added simply, “That’s cool.”

At that moment, Danny’s year old proverbial script was stripped from his possession and he allowed for a splash of surprise to paint over his face. That was new; something he hadn’t heard before. Unable to continue the conversation he had simply settled with nodding curtly and saying, “Okay,” before quickly turning to the lab table and pretending to run tests.

It had been an awkward moment and Danny had personally never wanted to experience it again. In fact, he had found the conversation so unappealing that he made it a personal goal (for a while) to avoid Don Flack for as long as possible. This was a peculiarly hard task to do and eventually he gave up. He decided it was not worth the effort and Flack was always all smiles. It was simply not morally right to dislike someone so friendly.

Because the point was, it wasn’t Flack himself (Danny grew to like Flack actually). It wasn’t anybody really – it almost never was. It must be just the general people, he concluded one day, after being nailed a good one square in the jaw on the subway. It must be just the general, collective ‘people’. Danny Messer never was good with people – they made him nervous. This theory obliged him to the continued wondering of whatever had possessed him to take up the job in the first place. He wonders and sometimes he concludes; usually with a reason that is flimsy and untruthful, just to appease his curiosity and his distracted brain because when those two ailments combined, he simply could not function through the rest of the day.

He thinks it could have been Mac. Mac always had the uncanny ability to persuade him into all sorts of things (much to Danny’s denial of course).

But no, it wasn’t fair to blame him either. In the end, it had been Danny’s own choice to take the job anyway.

And that, in essence had set off an entire route of chain reactions most of which, were to Danny’s disapproval and most of which were almost all caused by people (like his current sore jaw for instance). No, Danny did not like people. He did not like working with them, he did not like interacting with them, anything and everything. He thought about this currently as he was bent over the glass work-table glancing over bags of clothes and papers and measuring instruments and photos of the dead. His eyes locked onto a specific photo of a young man, late twenties perhaps, who had suffered a bullet head wound; a through-and-though. Danny viciously asked himself ‘what happened’, ‘what went wrong’, and ‘why’, cyclically. He convinced himself he was thinking of the victim, as it was routine. He just felt terribly uncomfortable that the questions seemed to apply nicely to himself as well.

A knocking on the door of the lab shook him from his thoughts. He lifted his head. Flack waved from the doorway, holding sandwiches. Danny lowered his head and groaned.

“Messer,” Flack said in greeting. Danny mumbled something unintelligible and it might have come off as rude even though he didn’t mean it. He was lucky Flack had the tendency to shrug comments off easily. Danny was not so indifferent – especially not at two in the morning.

Don studied him for a moment as if waiting for something else before shaking a sandwich in Danny’s face. Danny blinked at the jiggling beef and lettuce and stood up straighter before removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes.

“Sorry,” he said, “Kind of bushed.”

“Well I guessed that much with how you’re face is basically kissing the desk, yeah,” replied Flack before placing the sandwich on the table, careful of the evidence. “They said you haven’t been out of here for half the day. I got you something to eat.” As if proving his point valid, the detective poked the sandwich on the table with a finger. Danny picked the sandwich up and studied it.

“Who?” he asked, though not meeting Don’s eyes. He liked roasted beef.

Flack bit off a chunk of his own sandwich and chewed. “Who what?”

“Who told you ‘bout me being here?”

“Them.”

“Them?”

“You know, people.”

Danny turned his head slightly so Don wouldn’t notice the rolling of his eyes. “I’m just doin’ my job,” he claimed. “Busy schedule. People haven’t been stayin’ alive like they used to.”

Flack shrugged good humouredly at his comment and replied, “Hey, it’s New York City,” which made Danny smile despite himself. He peeled the translucent wrapping of the sandwich open and took a sniff before taking a bite. His stomach seemed to grumble pleasantly as he swallowed. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Flack smiled already half-way done with his own meager meal. For a few minutes they chewed in silence. Don spoke first.

“How’s the case?”

Danny shrugged and rubbed his face again, exhaustion smeared all over him. “Not too good. Everything’s comin’ back negative. We had a lead in the afternoon but you know how it goes.”

“Back to square one?”

“Yeah.”

Their idle chit-chat continued for a short while before Danny put his sandwich down and sighed heavily for the first time that day. He usually tried not to sigh because doing so drew attention to him and he didn’t like that – attention meant questions and questions made Danny bad tempered especially when he didn’t have the answers.

“That guy just turned twenty-one,” Danny said, hoping his voice sounded casual as he gave the photographs a nudge. Flack glanced at the pictures, his brow furrowing.

“It happens,” he replied. “I just worked a case with a ten year old girl...”

“I don’t wanna know,” Danny said quickly, because he really didn’t. Flack’s eyes watched him quietly, searching as always. Danny’s own eyes shifted, avoiding, evading.

“Danny, what’s the matter?” Flack asked finally. His words came out slowly, carefully.

“I’m fine,” Danny said tight-lipped.

“You’re not fine,” Flack shot back, no-nonsense, “You spent an entire day in the labs, you’ve been avoiding everybody, you haven’t eaten, and obviously you haven’t slept.”

“That ain’t true.”

“Something’s the matter.”

Danny rolled his stiff neck. “I can deal with it.”

“Hey –”

“I can deal with it, I said.”

Shoulders slacking, Flack stepped down and swallowed, shutting his mouth. Danny massaged his own forehead with his fingers. He heard, “So why’re you hiding?”

“I’m not hidin’.”

There was a pause. Danny tried to look preoccupied as he grabbed a Q-tip and a dropper.

Flack said, leaning against the table, “Hiding from the world isn’t gonna make it go away, you know.”

Danny dropped the Q-tip and swore heatedly under his breath. “At least I can go away for as long as I want.”

It sounded almost childish to be arguing the point and Flack gave him a look as if wanting to say something but knowing he shouldn’t. With the conversation now slaughtered, the web of silence stretched taut. They rarely argued and it seemed as if either of them knew what to do. The room seemed to suddenly drip with despair, a kind of whispery sigh of surrender. Danny was glad Flack said nothing more or else he was sure the ending would not be enjoyable for either of them. His fingers shook.

A pat on Danny’s shoulder was the last thing Flack did before leaving. Danny waited until he heard the footsteps against marble fade before he lifted his head. He spent one more restless hour in the lab before throwing up his arms and kicking something beneath him thoughtlessly.

This was stupid. All of this was just stupid. He wanted someone to take him by the shoulders and shake some sense into him, someone to yell at him – heck, Danny was sure he could even stomach a few bouts with Mac right now too.

He stared at what he had kicked now: a cardboard box, its contents now strewn all across the floor. Mac was sure to snap at him for this in the morning. With a tired grunt, he bent down and started to collect back the items and placing them back into their proper place before his temper had reigned. After cleaning up his mess, he remained seated upon the floor, dully – an action he would never do in public of course. But with all that shit he had to deal with each day, Danny thought it was only fair for him to at least have some time alone and do whatever he wanted to do.

It seemed that he was alone a lot more often now.

He remembered approaching Flack a few weeks after their first encounter out in the field as they searched a suspect’s house. Flack had asked, “Does it bother you?”

Danny had replied with an off hand comment regarding the case but the other man shook his head. “Your name I mean.”

Lowering his flashlight, Danny had scowled and said, “What about my name?”

“'Just Danny'. Don’t you ever get annoyed when people bug you about it? Like do people call you ‘Daniel’ just to see how you’re react?”

Danny was about to say something but he had tripped over a skateboard and yelled. When Flack rushed over and helped him up, Danny coughed and dusted himself off, scrutinizing his ruined jacket while saying, “Yeah, it does. Bug me, I mean. People should just lay off. If it ain’t their business they should quit stickin’ their noses in.”

“Maybe they’re just curious.”

“Maybe they just wanna be nasty, huh?”

Flack smiled almost a little worriedly. “I wasn’t nasty to you was I?”

Danny’s unconsciously fuming infuriation quickly melted away and he answered, “Nah.”

By that time Don had already made his way to the nearest window, observing the cracked glass with trained interest. From outside there had been a feeble sunbeam. “You have anything against that name or something? Something about the name ‘Daniel’ tick you off or something?”

At this point he vaguely remembered having the urge to give anything for the questions to stop. “I just like ‘Danny’ better.” He paused and grumbled, “’Cause ‘Daniel’ was a messed up SOB. Danny’s different.”

For a moment, it had appeared Don hadn’t heard him but then his voice, a light baritone, rang out. “Everybody makes mistakes.”

“Uh huh. You gonna tell me nobody’s perfect, next?” Danny had snapped back before he put in any proper thought about what he was saying. He had not meant for his words to come out so sarcastic, so harsh. Flack’s back was towards him as he searched the bookshelves. He said nothing else. Danny had pulled his gloves off then, absently watching his fellow detective poke and prod. He had wanted to say something, ask something, but somehow, the words had slipped him. He had turned with a shake of his head. He remembered having slipped against the skateboard again.

Now, a few odd years later, Danny was sitting on the floor of the lab (rather aware that this was probably not the most sanitary thing to do), staring at the patterns the light made from overhead. The fact that Don never replied to him continued to bother him to that day. If Don had said anything back then, what would he have said? Would it have mattered?

Danny Messer never did like people. But truthfully, they weren’t the problem. With his head in his hands, Danny tugged at his hair. The problem was himself. It was the age old battle of Daniel versus Danny – what he was versus what he is. He couldn’t understand why the past was so damn stubborn. He couldn’t understand why it kept gnawing at him, ripping him up from the inside out like an acid, like the burning jaws of a monster. Permanent as the tattoo on his shoulder, scorched into his flesh like a deadly, self-destroying venom.

The metallic song of his cell phone filled the empty air. The name ‘Don Flack’ flashed across the florescent screen. Danny waited until the ringing stopped. The slight hint of a smile slowly crept onto his lips. Fingering the small portable phone, he pocketed it. He didn’t call back and he knew Flack didn’t leave a message. Just a few rings were enough; just to show him he was there, that he cared. Danny turned off the lab lights as he left. He would thank Don in the morning.

Boomtime

2006-02-02T19:02:51Z

It's Thursday and I've come down with a cold. Oh woe. I can't taste my food. Which means, I shall devote the day to writing ficcage. Will post soon, kids, soon.

TVdate, US beer, APE

2006-02-01T23:59:14Z

Hey kids. Let's start today's entry with some full blown narcissism (oh, like that's new. Gee, surprising since this journal is my journal and is, hm, it's just so coincidentally all about myself. Amazing observation, Watson). So, I got into AP English. Yes, I passed the exam last week and will be admitted into the course next year.

Tonight at 10:00 on CBS is CSI: NY. Here's what CBS (website) says about tonight's episode entitled: "Stuck on You":

"When a billionare playboy throws a party for a mosaic artist, he and a model end up skewered and pinned against a wall by an arrow."

Funky. Or there could just be something seriously wrong with me. Or I could be too wasted to tell. Jason and Brandon called me an alcoholic today just because I admit Kirin Beer is the god of all beers. I mean, not that I'd know I -

Okay.

Everybody grab some food and go watch CSI: NY.

This is a short entry to make up for that crap yesterday. Sorry for wasting your precious vision.

Kirin Beer is really good. So are Smirnoffs. Oh heaven.

After school today, Jenny and I went to 7-Eleven and got hotdogs and some chips. It was fun even though it was really cold and I couldn't feel my face. Apologies I couldn't sing for you, darling. My throat hurt.

Speaking of hurting. Yes, I'm sick apparently. It's nothing big, just throat pain. I also can't taste what I'm eating and sometimes, I can't breathe through my nose.

Speaking of school. We have off on Friday.

Uh. Anyone know any good movies? I'm in a movie-ish mood. Speaking of movies, they're coming out with a movie for 24 (you know, that thing I wrote about yesterday). I'm almost excited expect for the fact that I think they might screw it up. Most things that go to the silver screen usually get messed up. Especially if it happens in America.

Ah, America. Good beer.

Watch TV tonight people. I'll like you. Sorry, that must sound more like a threat than anything.

A play, iNano, and how I seem to act like my fandoms

2006-01-31T21:15:14Z

I like it better when the days seem longer. But today was hot and I had to endure 15 minutes of Rachel's sloppy story-telling skills; this time, about her new plastic snake who happens to have severe hormonal problems (which, in layman's terms translates nicely into: really horny). It was a strange way to end my day. I also slammed my eye into Jenny's face.

Oh and Jenny's mom doesn't know where the horn is in a car. And apparently, trees are more interesting to her than her daughter ("...but the trees." XD). Although she does notice me which is rather flattering (what can I say, I stand out). It's okay though, she's still really cool.

Over the weekend I got myself an iPod Nano because my old mini one is kind of dead. My computer got rebooted though so I lost all my music which is a pity. I had some pretty good stuff on there. I kind of really wanted the video iPod but it was too expensive. Another pity. I could have spent the entire school day watching House MD up my sleeve (iPods - they fit everywhere; so convinent).

Speaking of which. Tonight at 9:00 on FOX is a new episode of 24. I love this show. It's tied for first place with House MD on my list. I'll give a review tomorrow or something since this post is going to take up too much space anyway. Whatever, just watch it tonight. You'll like it I swear. Jack Bauer (the main character) is the coolest thing on the planet. Ever.

We finished reading "The Pillowman", a play, in my creative writing class. I read the part of Tupolski and apparently, did a very good job of it.

MP3 rotations makes me smile.

Chrysanthemum Tea. Ass to pronounce, but hella good to drink. Even with honey. See if you can pick it up at the Asian market because currently it's my favorite drink (hint hint for when you want to bribe me in the near future, yeah?). Then after you get it, pay a nickel to anyone who can say the name three times fast.

I seriously need new pants.

A rant

2006-01-12T23:18:49Z

A rant. Obviously today took a toll on me. Aye. Cut to save your time.

I really hate it when people pick up a conversation regarding my future career. As I see it, it's not too bright and for the moment, let's enjoy the sunshine okay? Stop raining on my party. And when it seems that I really don't have much of a choice except one or two picks (because I either lack skill or interest in any of the other subjects), it's no wonder I would be a little ticked off so no need to throw a hissy fit because I look upset. Of course I would be upset. How would you react knowing your entire life was planned out for you and it's not even something you care about or want. It's like having an arranged marrage with a piece of donkey ass.

That was a really weird comparison. Eh. Wasn't it nice back in the day when we were kids who peed on the carpet (this isn't the nice part) and the teacher would ask us "What do you want to be when you grow up?" (this is the nice part). That was great because all the kids would have all these crazy ideas; there would be someone who wanted to be a fire fighter, or a clown, or a ballerina, or a cookie taste tester, or heck - even a power ranger.

But not today. Today, everybody wants to be a doctor or a lawyer or a whore. Or all three combined in some way sick fashion. Everybody thinks they'll make it big. Well guess what you freaks, I'd like to see how many of you actually will. Not that there's anything bad about being a doctor or a lawyer. I like doctors (sometimes). Lawyers can be nice too (nevermind. I'm trying to prove a point). But you see, it's the reason behind it all. There have got to be that 1% of people who actually want to be a doctor because of a good, moral reason that does not involve money. There has got to be that 1% of people who actually want to be a lawyer because they want to really put those guys down and not intirely for the money, too. See, those people I respect, I really do. The rest of you - yeah, you, the kind of person who can't answer why you want to be a doctor or a lawyer, the kind of people who bitch about your freaking B+ or A- because you think you're "failing", you people who can't talk about anything else other than getting knocked up or getting rich or freaking school, school, school - you're scum. Freaking yuppy scum. And I'm tired of your petty clichie complaints. I'm tired of your attention scavanging mock self-pity. Frankly, it's disgusting. You're disgusting.

Not all of you. Just most of you.

Some of you arn't that bad at all. Some of you I may know and like. You know who you are.

And you know what, even some of those horrible book-married people will make it big. Some of you weirdos will live a great life and be real flipping happy. And you know what, fine. That's great. No big surprise. But most of you - maybe not so lucky. And you know what - no big surprise there either.

Go ahead. Go to your fancy medical schools and law schools. Obsess over perfect scores and the SATs and measure yourself with how many good grades you get or how many AP or Honors courses you have. Go ahead. Maybe you'll get lucky. Maybe this really is what you're meant to do. Maybe you won't suffer in those schools working your asses off for an uncertain future, like the past one hundred thousand before you. Maybe you'll be famous and make big bucks. That's great. There's nothing wrong with that.

But don't put me in the same category. Don't you dare look down on people who "can't match up". Because you know, we can totally match up. We are in an entirely other field. We may not be as rich. We may not be as happy. But that doesn't give you any right to dehumanize us. Don't think you can judge a person by your "standards". Don't think you can judge a person at all. Screw off and go live your mechanical life and make lots of baby spawn and green bucks. You meds - go on and save all those lives. You lawyers - go on and save all those lives.

You'll spend your life trying to save lives. You'll spend your life with your money. You'll spend your life; We'll live ours.

...That was refreshing.

Homecoming

2005-09-27T01:11:35Z

A new start for an old resident. Sort of.

I've been awful busy lately with the school since midterms are coming up. I've got the new year show program to help produce but no one apparently can manage their time and every baterry powered thing in my house is suddenly thrown into decay for some reason. It could be a sign.