The Rantings of a Rockish Rambler

Watched Four Holidays.

2009-12-22T13:55:19Z

Once.

JUST ONCE.

I would like to see a movie where the happy ending isn't getting married with kids. Where after all the trials and pain and general badness, the lead characters decide that yes, they love each other and they want to be together, but that doesn't mean automatically mean kids.

ONCE.

In fact, I'd really like to see a movie where a bunch of friends discover the true meaning of Christmas to be home and love, and that doesn't have to mean romance and family and settling into perfectly defined roles of ARGHHH.

AND AS SOMEONE WHO WENT THROUGH THE SEVEN YEARS, I CAN TELL YOU RIGHT NOW THAT IT WASN'T FUNNY, IT WAS TRAUMATIC.

But we also watched Muppet Christmas Carol, and aside from them taking out "The Love is Gone", that movie will always be awesome. More movies should be like Muppet Movies. More movies should have muppets. ALL HAIL THE MUPPETS.

Also, I really do like "All I want for Christmas", but if it gets played every two hours for the next two days, I am going to kill someone. Probably a counter chick. With a rusty spoon. BECAUSE THEY CAN'T KEEP THEIR TILLS STRAIGHT.

AND IT'S FREAKING HOT.

...Christmas is a glorious time of year, I've been told...

...ranting again...

2009-12-18T09:05:27Z

PATIENCE IS A VIRTUE I'VE HAD FOR THREE MONTHS AND IT'S SOMEONE ELSE'S TURN, DAMMIT.

In other news - Happy belated birthday!

Giggling is fun!

2009-12-13T00:53:13Z

Despite the heat (seriously, what is it with Sundays and oppressive heat right now? It's not right!) I've spent most of the past hour giggling. The internets can be such funny places.

The first one was on the Sonic forum that usually makes me despair of humanity (which it almost did today, but was rescued), in which they were having a discussion on who would kill. Naturally, the DBZ parallels popped up, and the thing was "sure, Goku only killed one person who could revive in the end, but let's consider all the people he's TRIED to kill off". The list was sorta kinda hilarious and I wish I'd saved it, now....

Then I come on here and obabscribbler makes me laugh far too loudly for a Sunday morning when my housemate is still unconscious.

I find out about DCA and scholarships sometime over the next week... behold the excited terror...!

My friends want to go see Paranormal Activity - I am not that masochistic. I will, however, be incredibly amused by Housemate-who-does-not-believe-in-the-occult having to sleep with all the lights on in the house, if she follows through on said warning.

If I do get accepted for next year, I think I might already have the opening paragraph to my Creative Part:

"This is a true story. It all really happened, except for the events performed by fictional people, things said by liars, and anything relating to the insominiac. Anyway, most of it happened online, so the reality of the situation is really only what you choose to believe."

It's been stuck in my head for the past week, that paragraph. Driving me up the wall.

Christmas Trading Hours officially start tomorrow. PHEAR.

LARP-ing

2009-12-06T02:20:03Z

We has internets now!

This, I suppose, means I should move my PC here, which will distress mother-mine. She doesn't want me to, for the same reason she's still encouraging me to bring my clothes home to wash. She knows I probably won't go home too often without reason, for the same reason I'm not usually sociable unless people come to me.

Aaaanyway. So. Happy post today-- I know, who knew I was capable?--to talk about what's going on. Sorry about the wangsting earlier - but yeah. Crappy day.

First things first - on Monday of this week (or last week, depending on whether the week starts on Monday or Sunday for you), my team leader sends me an email saying she wants to talk to me. I figured it was about end of month stuff, until it got to the end of the day and she still hadn't called, so I began freaking out. Then on Tuesday, my regional manager came in and started the conversation with "So where do you live?"

I found this very strange, but after making a bit of an idiot of myself by saying "what, live-live, or like, where do I spend most of my time?" I said Como, and he sat there thinking until I said "what, are you kicking me out of my store or something?" to which he replied "Well, I'm glad you made that easy for me!"

Insert further freaking out here, thankfully covered by little more than a blink and a "Oh... okay."

Long and random discussion of reasoning ended with him asking whether I'd prefer Cockburn or Myaree - Cockburn's twenty minutes down the freeway and easy, so... and it was all pretty up in the air and I just shrugged and moved on. Thursday, I was talking to my team leader through email and ask if what she wanted to talk to me about was the same thing as him - she replied she had no idea what he spoke to me about.

Prompt: further freaking out thankfully hidden by like fifty k's of distance as I ohsocalmly explain.

My next email is "Support wants you to start at Cockburn on Monday. Send me the paperwork."

In between all these emails and conversations, I've been talking to various people, who tell me they've had two office girls quit in six months, the manager's insane, the workload will be huge and YOU'RE DOOMED, LEE, DOOMED.

I wander over to my store manager and ask if she knew this was happening, and she says "oh, yeah, I did."

Gee. Thanks for the headsup.

Prompt: mild panic attack covered by... actually, I don't know how. I just wandered back to my office and began convincing myself that I was being managed out of the company (fired by making you quit). Naturally, as you do when you're depressed, I started focussing on what a terrible person I was and how I just sucked at everything, and what would I do if I'm not accepted for a scholarship and blah, blah, blah.

Things made worse by my housemate having an absolutely atrocious event, so when I went home and basically stress-slept, I felt even worse because who the hell was I to feel so stressed out when she was going through what she is, so I did the ohsohonourable thing and ran away to my Mummy's house.

Yeah, well, I never said I was a good person.

Remained stressed out until Friday afternoon, at which point I got not only all my original store people being pissed off they were losing me, but the new store's 2iC (who was originally the original store's 2iC) cheering because he was getting me and people at the new store talking about how they needed someone who could do the job because it hadn't been done for months.

Prompt: sudden relief and general feeling of stupidity for freaking out in the first place.

Then housemate, Random 3 and I went out to Subiaco for dinner and movie of the New Moon variety, in the hope the theatre would be empty so we could giggle at it loudly (to no avail. It was kinda full and so I felt bad because Housemate and R3 STILL giggled through it loudly... granted, there were a lot of people giggling along with us, but....), and just happened to run into Random 1, who I've barely seen or spoken to in six months. Well, I say 'run into'. What actually happened was she ran up behind us and jumped on R3's back with an almighty "GRAGH!" and scared the living daylights out of all of us.

She came to dinner with us and housemate and I found out that we'd apparently agreed to go to a LARP on Saturday night. R1 facepalmed because R3 was supposed to tell us last week sometime and just never got around to it, you see.

But yes. So, after a generally crappy start yesterday (37 degree heat... second day of 37 degree heat. Generally not great week. Everything sucked for housemate and I) we went grocery shopping and cheered up a little, then struggled to make our internet work (I fail at writing down passwords - N and M are not the same letter, it turns out), then cheered up a lot because our internet now worked, then R3 came over and took us to the LARP.

<:lj-cut>
Now, none of us had ever done Live Action Roleplay. R3 and I have done acting, and housemate and R3 are both fairly extensive DnD players, but none of us are that interested in Star Wars (which is what the LARP was based on) and knew jack all about Sith (which was the setting of our little campaign), but HEY.

I was made a Security Officer, and (after my superior thought I let out some prisoners [WHICH I DID NOT - they were hiding under the desk we were using as the brig]) I was set to guard the hangar and in theory let any prisoners out of the 'ship'. Housemate and R3 were both made prisoners which were happily causing havoc on the ship.

Because I was in the hangar, which made me the last line of defence, I rarely saw what was going on. Point of fact, I had no idea what was going on, except that sometimes superiors would come in, go "Nexus has exploded" or "WHY ARE ALL MY SECURITY OFFICERS DOWN?!" (to which I would go "Sir! I'm still here, sir!"). I captured one prisoner, demanded a lot of superior officers halt and show identification, and had a couple of "halt or I will shoot your eye out" sessions with the big bad prisoner.

Meanwhile, apparently, the prisoners basically disabled our ship, our navigation crew fell apart, our mechanics died, at one point the Big Bad Prisoner killed all our medical personel, then revived one because he thought it was funnier that way, the prisoners took over the brig, eventually we all (me included, amazingly) had a big stand off as the XO (who was totally a traitor because he was also a referee and I'm pretty sure had written the campaign for the prisoners to win) negotiated for the prisoners to surrender, and finally, R3 was the only prisoner who didn't decide to join the ship's crew in exchange for freedom, jumped into a ship and flew out the hangar only to be shot down in a blaze of glory.

Very few of us had any idea of what was going on, but we beat the GM's, which apparently is not the aim of the game but makes it so much better.

Now, today is only supposed to be 30 degrees, gardening awaits, and I only have eleven more days before I know what's going on next year.

Remember to breathe...

I AM UPSET AND THE WORLD SHALL PITY ME.

2009-12-03T11:48:57Z

Bad, bad day... actually, bad twenty-four hours. All the assembled problems are not really problems, so I won't go into detail because nobody cares

(nobody loves me, everybody hates me, think I'll go eat - -bricked- I'M NOT SORRY.)

Terry Pratchett did not help in his holier-than-thou-by-not-being-remotely-convinced-of-holiness attitude and unredeemable vampires. I AM NOT RELIGIOUS BUT BY ALL THAT IS GREEN I AM ANNOYED BY ANTI-RELIGION. GRAH. ALSO BLACK AND WHITE VIEWS. DOUBLE GRAH.

I forgot my MP3 player and so was not in the least distracted by music.

And I've stressed myself into knots so my neck and head REALLY FRIKKIN HURT.

AND WHAT IF I DON'T GET ACCEPTED?

AND I DON'T THINK I ACTUALLY WANT TO GO TO COCKBURN, IF ONLY BECAUSE PEOPLE THINK IT'S FUNNY TO PRONOUNCE IT HOW IT'S SPELLED.

It's not funny, people. Seriously.

And three days is not notice.

I must remember, I have a couch. A very nice couch. That I bought for a quarter of what it's worth. This is AWESOME.

If only it had happened this week so I could actually have that... I FOUND A PATH IN MY GARDEN AND I AM PROUD, DAMMIT.

RtR is coming along, but I'm having issues with the chapter lengths. I can't decide, you see. Also, I've reached the point where - well, I've almost reached the Cards, if that means anything to anyone, and I'm having trouble getting to them. BUT I WILL I AM DETERMINED.

-cough- music will make me happy...

Mmmmoving in tomorrow... I think...

2009-11-20T11:29:07Z

Ugh. I'm so slack. I've been doing the very slow move... partly because no one else has been around to watch the dogs these last two nights, but mostly because I'm too slack to actually move. All my stuff is there - I've run out of clothes that are still here... I'm hopeless. Abso-frikking-lutely hopeless.

And almost proud of it.

But tomorrow I intend to try sleeping over there. I'll spend some time there trying to convince Mel this one wall needs two bookcases against it to keep a room from looking like a dungeon. I also need to find a bedside lamp at some point...

Finally got around to seeing Speed Racer. Need soundtrack, if only for the remix of the Speed Racer song because it is TECHNOAWESOME. And cheesy, too.

As for the movie... I don't think I got half the in-jokes, because I never watched Speed Racer as a kid (my sister is just old enough to have seen the last of the for-kids reruns. It pretty much passed me by. But I liked the movie. It's kinda cool how they really did make it live-action anime. People told me that, but it's something you have to see for yourself to understand. It's not just the bright colours or the cinematography or the flashbacks - it's in the way the dialogue was framed and acted; the way the characters played off each other; even the way that some characters were so utterly sexualised, but there was a grand total of ONE kiss. Lots of little things that are very much signature anime, but you don't notice in anime and you barely notice in this, but when you've study the damn genre you know it's there, and...

But on that note, I can see why it was a loveitorleaveit. It was so stylised...

I also rewatched Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen, just to see whether I'd only liked it because of the way I saw it.

No, I still liked it. There were lots of Michael Bay moments that just make you roll your eyes and/or wince as he pushes a few PC boundaries, but... but I still like it over all.

Better than that - I like it AND I appreciate it. Every time I think about it, I think "THAT is how a Metaphor Movie should be made." It never stopped pushing its messages, but you are utterly capable of watching it as JUST a crappy Michael Bay movie. That one scene with Sam's father - "You have to let me go, Dad" - that just makes it for me, every time. It's such a cheesy, terrible line... but the actors make it work. I just respect that.

And I liked that Simmons got redeemed. And it made me actually really like Michaela, and her relationship with Sam. And I like seeing Bumblebee kick butt AND play the irritable leader to the twins. I even--despite the trash-talk and leg-humping--like the nasty little Decepticon traitor.

That's the thing. For every stupid, roll-your-eyes-and-hit-the-fast-forward-button moment, there's something in it that redeems it. I respect that a lot.

...It's the Christmas Party this Sunday. I'll make sure someone posts for me if I get arrested for strangling someone, I promise.

Moving thoughts...

2009-11-15T00:27:58Z

Typical line: How the heck does one assemble so much crap?

My line: I know exactly how I got all this crap, I just wasn't prepared to move it to a shared space... what am I supposed to do with it...?

Also debating whether to actually move in until we get the internet. What? I'm not addicted, how dare you suggest such a thing! LIESALLLIES!

Being sick and not-sick

2009-11-14T00:40:20Z

So, for the past... what, five weeks or so? I've been not-sick. Not-sick is that kind of state where you're not really at one hundred percent, but you can function perfectly well, and you don't look or sound sick, you just... don't work properly. In my case, the only real proof that other people can pick up on is that I'm a little sulkier around my mother (as in the truly humiliating but who cares "Mummy make me feel better!") and I have a bit more difficulty stringing thoughts together in any coherant format.

Since, when doing so in real time, like speaking, or rambling online, I rarely have the ability to string thoughts together in a really coherant format at the best of time, most people would say I don't actually have a tell.

The last three weeks, I've been not-sick during the week, and then spend the time between Friday afternoon and Monday noon ACTUALLY sick. Coughing and spluttering and headachey and in an entirely bitchy mood that manifests in "yeah, sure, do whatever you want I DON'T CARE".

I resent this, somewhat.

Mothermine says I should go to the doctor, but I don't really want to be told I have a cold so man up. Also, it's hard to go to the doctor on the weekend, and during the week it would be along the lines of "yeah, I look fine NOW, but in a couple days..." Besides, I can put up with it. Weekends are for slacking off.

Except this weekend. This weekend is supposed to be about rushing around buying a bed (Minimum $260 for a mattress alone. A MATTRESS.) and cleaning this new house and getting the garden in some semblance of order and moving stuff and also belatedly-celebrating my sister's birthday yesterday (she's officially a grown-up. Even the financial side of the government says so now. We shall point and laugh!) and in between all this making up for the hours of sleep I didn't actually have during the week.

Naturally, this is the sickest I've felt yet.

Resentment. LOTS AND LOTS OF RESENTMENT.

Also, whenever something ridiculous comes to mind I keep hearing the phrase "Purple Walrus". I resent Jay for this! YOU HEAR ME, WOMAN?! RESENTMENT.

And now I have to go to the chiropractor and get cracked. MORE RESENTMENT! TO HELL WITH YOU ALL I'M JUST GOING TO GIVE UP AND GET ON WITH IT! BLARGH!

I have a house!

2009-11-09T22:41:14Z

This is very scary - Mel and I got a house!

It's pretty old, and there's a broken floorboard, water damage, and a massive backyard (I am considering following through on my occasional need to have a vegetable garden... I blame Year Eight and those science-agriculture classes that made me grow corn and like it), but it's three bedrooms, with three common areas with lots of windows and a big kitchen and my room even comes with a built-in pin up board so I can stick up pictures without worrying about the paint and - and the paint! It's all bold magenta and turquoise! Funky funky stuff.

I get the idea no one else applied for it, because it all happened very fast. We saw it on Saturday, but the real estate agent wasn't open over the weekend, so I sent off the application at like ten yesterday morning (don't tell my boss what I was using the fax for), and I was agreeing to meet the home owner for keys and stuff later this week by two.

This is absolutely terrifying and I may flail a bit over the next week in which I slowly move out. By the bye - if I disappear for a few weeks, it's because we won't have internet until we do, so... yeah.

Eep!

People on the intawebs are stoopid.

2009-11-08T22:37:41Z

My god. People are just... stupid. There is no other word for it. Fandom, do you hear me? You are S.T.U.P.I.D.

FANDOM: We demand gay characters in canon!!!

WRITERS: -sidelong look- Um. -points- Subtext to keep the parents happy, but uh... yeah. Not all that subtle, really.

FANDOM: ....WHAT?! YOU CAN'T MAKE THAT CHARACTER GAY! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?

-headdesk-

Here I spent the last six months cheering Archie for actually having the guts to do it (I didn't think it was that subtle. There are ways you phrase 'friend' that tell you quite blatantly that friends are not what you are. Especially when preceded by '...' Bah-jeezus.), but then as soon as it gets confirmed out of canon, the boards have a fit!

And what the hell do they mean 'stereotype'? He's not flambouyant, he's not bitchy, he's very intelligent, he doesn't give a damn about the way he looks...! CLEARLY YOU CAN'T HAVE A CHARACTER WITHOUT IT BEING A STEREOTYPE ANYMORE!

GRAH!

-pantpantpant-

I really hope this is just an anti-Penders-anything issue, because otherwise, I think I actually am ticked off about a political issue. And I really don't want to be. But seriously... my god. People are stupid.

almostdonealmostdonealmostdone...!

2009-11-03T13:00:52Z

I've found a way to make the work party work. I've made up the invitations. I have the paper to print the invitations on. I just need the invites okayed by Deville's and Manager, need to put in the order, and then distribute said invites, and buy the goddamn prizes that might not end up being used if the managers don't do their part, and I... am... DONE.

Oh joy...!

Oh, joyous joy...!

THE NEW TINK OFFENDS ME

2009-11-02T09:18:42Z

Has anyone seen the new Tinkerbell?

WHAT HAPPENED TO MY BITCHY, SLIGHTLY EVIL BUT ULTIMATELY GOOD PIXIE/G-RATED PORN STAR?!

I am not impressed by her niceness.

At all.

Tired makes for sulk

2009-10-30T07:22:23Z

matzerfratzinpartystupidwouldn'tevenbegoingifgrumblegrr

I think I might be sick, but not actually. I just haven't felt a hundred percent for like a week. And I'm really tired despite sleeping okay the last few nights. Meh. Tired and frustrated and WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING ORGANISING THIS PARTY GODDAMMIT.

grah and grumble.

I am intrigued and somewhat amused by the idea of the new YGO movie, but I actually know nothing about it... hmmm... somehow, I will find out. I must. -nodnod-

Astroboy! The expressions! THE EXPRESSIONS.

2009-10-26T22:21:03Z

Saw Astroboy last night.

It wasn't... fall out of my seat, keep me enthralled the whole way through awesome, but...

It was still pretty awesome.

I just got stuck on the expressions, and the quick reference-jokes ("It's been that way for fifty years!"), and how, while it took itself seriously the entire time, it was also very bloody aware of the weirdness that is Tetsuwa Atom ("I have machine guns... in my butt?!").

Ohh, the expressions were awesome. Especially Astro's. The animators made his "are you freakin' KIDDING ME" face so very blunt, and he did it fairly regularly. Have to love it.

And even though Toby was a complete prat, he still made me cry. It was a leet-le bit of a cop-out, but it still worked. And the voices, almost all-round, were really well done. I loved the president. He was just FUN, the entire time. I don't understand why they had to make him a president, though, when they still had the Ministry of Science... believe me when I say that Prime Ministers can be just as trigger-happy stupid.

The surface kids... they were entertaining enough, but they did not hold my interest. At all. Cora felt like a character they had to stick in because they needed at least one female character, and, as the only one of her kind, that meant she needed to be OHMIGOD SO AWESOME AND RELATABLE and just generally Mary-Sueish. I know they're necessary to appease certain people, but I really hate characters like that.

I think Dr Tenma's story could have been a little more meaningful if he hadn't done what he did in the end, but, then, y'know, the ending was just all-round a little... ad-ven-ture AstroBOOOOY! Can't fault 'em for that, of course. Like Cora. Creators need to do what they need to do. Still, it makes me pine for the days of old kids' movies, where you could have bittersweet endings on emotional levels, and the characters stood on their own, rather than fulfilling certain... needs.

...and I'm gonna cut off that rant right there.

In other news, I have stocktake today. I have to leave the house before 6.30. This is not cool. I also have to sit behind a desk and mark off other people's counting all day. This is also not cool.

In other, other news, I'm going to see a flat this afternoon. It's apparently 'run down', but it's big and three rooms, and only 295 a week. And so help me, I am going to make Mel laugh whether she likes it or not. GRAH. FEAR MY DETERMINATION.

Right. Gotta go or I'll be late. BYE!

So... yeah... opinions? Please?

2009-10-25T09:55:01Z

This is still that story I mentioned, so... yes.

The first half of the first chapter...

And now, the second half...

----------

Almost twenty years later, Yami still didn’t believe him.
He grimaced as he slipped past the entrance to the waiting hall, eyeing the black-cloaked figures milling around inside. Death Archivers. Four hundred and thirteen of them, all gathered together to talk about how they could best mess with the souls they reaped. Not his favourite people to serve.
But he was a File Messenger, and he went where he was sent. His assignment, this month, was to pass files and messages around the Councillors’ House, which just happened to be where the Death Archiver Congregation was taking place. Worse, flying had been outlawed during the daylight hours while the Congregation took place, meaning he had to walk through six floors of these creeps a dozen times a day or more.
He twitched when he caught sight of a familiar face. Not that he really liked any of the Grim Reapers, but there was one that never failed to annoy him. His own Death Archiver – Yuugi. The pint-sized jerk. If not for him, Yami would never have been sentenced to this place, and it seemed like every time they met up, somehow, Yami walked away with more debt to his name. He didn’t know how Yuugi did it, but he knew, somehow, it was his fault.
And it was all so much worse because unlike every other Death Archiver in the Higher Plains, Yuugi was supposed to be a soul – once a mortal human, just like him. But no. He’d been a Grim Reaper for so long – none of them gave a damn about souls. None of them.

-----------

“Oh no, not again…!”
Yuugi and Mahaado smiled at Mana’s whine, but then exchanged understanding glances as Vie took the podium.
Vie was fairly famous among the Archiver community. He was the leader of a faction of Death Archivers that believed immediate reincarnation was a waste of resources, and should be removed from the three choices. Of course, everyone knew that wasn’t going to happen; the three choices had been set out by the Higher Powers – you couldn’t just scrap them. But every Congregation, Vie made his bid, and every year, the rules changed a little bit more, always making it easier for DAs to make reincarnation sound less appealing.
It wasn’t right, in Yuugi and Mahaado’s opinion… but it was Vie’s right to do it.
“Brothers and sisters of the Noble Service,” he began. “I stand before you to continue a noble effort. I stand before you in the hope of gaining your support. I stand before you as an angel of the community, and a servant of a greater purpose –”
“You stand before us as a politician, we get it!” shouted a random voice.
The crowd rippled with laughter. Politicians were something of a joke among the Death Archivers, as Yuugi was the only one who had ever been part of the mortal realm, and not even he had any clue what they actually were. However, they’d reaped quite a few, and souls talked about them as being pompous and untrustworthy. Yuugi suspected that they were using the term badly, but in the last hundred years or so, DAs had started using the term to describe someone that talked for long hours about nothing at all.
Vie cleared his throat. “I’m sure you understand why I stand before you. Once again, I put out the call to have us address a serious issue. For millennia, we noble angels have offered three choices to those that have reached the end of their lives. For millennia, we have given two reasonable offers. To join the work of the greater purpose, or to move on, in an attempt to reach The End.”
Although Mahaado didn’t actually move, Yuugi could feel his irritable sigh, and folded his own arms in resignation. Although they rarely campaigned for anything themselves, the two of them technically lead an opposing faction to Vie’s. Yuugi had been kind of thrust into the position—half spokesperson and half mascot—because he was, after all, a soul himself. Mahaado, on the other hand, actually believed spirits only existed to serve the needs of the mortal world. That put him in contrast with Vie, who made no secret of his belief that souls were indoctrinated in order to serve spirits.
And that, Yuugi often thought, was what he was sick of seeing happen. Souls were constantly being indoctrinated because they weren’t actually told what they’d be doing. Just that they would become ‘angels’, get wings, and serve the Higher Powers. They were never told about the down sides.
He inwardly scoffed, hunching forward a little. Angels indeed.
“Vie, every Congregation you make the same argument, and every Congregation, we debate the same issue!” a voice shouted to his left, and Yuugi leaned around Mahaado to see Nightcrawler leaning over the railing, his blue hair falling all over his face. “You tell us we need to remove the second choice, if only for ease of transition, but you forget the religions of the mortal world! You cannot take that from them!”
Vie glared up at him. “Mortal faith is not our concern.”
“Just as your beliefs are not theirs?” he shot back. “Mortals need to believe in their soul – they need to believe in possibilities, or our entire system will become pointless! It’s bad enough now, with all this science nonsense – I reaped a soul last week who wouldn’t even believe he was dead, because he wouldn’t believe in life after death!”
Mahaado nodded, straightening to look down his nose at Vie. “If the souls do not have reason to believe in reincarnation, or service, or the paths, they will not accept our existence. They will not allow us to reap them.”
“It’ll be utter chaos!” another voice shouted from below, and almost half the Congregation burst out in angry mutterings or approving cheers.
One of Vie’s loudest supporters, however, hauled himself up the side of the podium to glare first at Nightcrawler, and then Mahaado. “What’s one thing got to do with the other? Souls don’t remember being reaped in the next life.”
“Not consciously, no,” Yuugi agreed, and the crowd immediately quietened as they all looked around at him. He blushed, but forced himself to keep his head up. “But their hearts remember everything.”
There was a pause, and Mahaado nodded, picking up the train when it looked like Yuugi wouldn’t continue.
“Mortals believe in past lives, and some of them can see what those lives were,” he explained. “Despite what they may consciously forget, there are certain details that always remain with a person’s soul. If their confidence in their choices slip, they’ll retain that in the next life, and when they meet us, the mistrust will grow, which makes our job harder.”
This was met with a chorus of cheers and encouragement, as those against Vie’s faction heard their argument. But Vie scoffed.
“And I suppose your friendship with that soul beside you has nothing to do with your political stance?” he snapped. “Yuugi, you are a dedicated Death Archiver – no one can deny this. But I think we all know just how your past life affects your reapings. It’s a well-known fact that you have the least number of indoctrinations amongst us.”
He blushed a deeper shade, leaning back slightly. “I just try to fully explain the choices, and they make the decision.”
“I think we all know who makes the decision in your reapings.”
Yuugi lowered his eyes to his gloves, ignoring the objections from his supporters, and Mahaado’s warm hand on his arm. Three hundred years and he was still proving himself.
Then again… when had he really done anything to prove them wrong?

-----------

As much as he complained, Yami had to admit things in the Higher Plains weren’t really all that terrible. He did kind of like it.
He hated his job, and the spirits, and the fact that he was probably going to spend an eternity trying to work of debt he definitely didn’t deserve, but the Higher Plains themselves…?
He loved the weather here. It was always peaceful – the nights were always bright and clear, filled with silvery moonlight whether there was a moon or not. The few days that it did rain, it was a nice, soft rain that made him want to curl into bed near a window to watch it fall.
It had only stormed here once, with wild, uncontrollable weather that crashed with lightning and thunder, the wind ripping things from the ground. General Consensus said that happened because the Council was angry, but Yami had no clue. He’d spent the entire week hiding in his room, terrified and refusing to admit it.
Ever since he’d died, Yami had disliked water. Uncontrollable water, like the storm, or the river that flowed through the centre of the Plains, scared the daylights out of him.
But tonight, it was peaceful, and he smiled at the silvery light as he reached back to pick a bottle off the table behind him. He’d gotten off duty an hour ago, but it had taken him almost that long to find anything edible. Food, of course, wasn’t an integral part of the afterlife, so it wasn’t provided to most people, especially not lowly File Messengers like himself. For the most part, Yami didn’t much care – food passed the time, sure, and it tasted good, but it was more a habit and everyone knew it. But it was a night off, and like hell was he having one of those without swiping some beer from the grims.
As he drank, he rolled his shoulders, pulling the kink from his neck. Since he couldn’t use them at work, he hadn’t let his wings out in a while, and that always gave him a bit of a cramp. Someone had once told him that the shifting muscles and bones affected his spine, but that didn’t make him feel any better about it.
He half-turned, bottle falling from his lips, as the door behind him opened and two Death Archivers stepped onto the balcony. They ignored him, as spirits usually did, so he turned his eyes back to a small group of his comrades below, all drunk and dancing.
“I’m sick of these meetings. They just go around and around. They never make any difference,” muttered one of the DAs.
“Of course not. None of the factions want to change their position, and the changeable faction is never large enough to make a majority,” the other replied lazily. “But it doesn’t matter. Another five days, and we can get back to work.”
Yami rolled his eyes. Obsessive and sick, all of them.
“I don’t know about you, but I couldn’t give a damn,” she said, wrapping her arms around her waist. “Let the souls handle it forever, as I care.”
Yami raised a curious eyebrow, glancing away from the drunken game below to take in her profile. Her companion frowned.
“You know they can’t take it for long. Their souls can’t handle it; it makes them sick.”
She shrugged, uncaring. “So? I happen to agree with Vie on this one. The only good soul is a working soul. And even then they’re hardly worth the effort…”
Yami couldn’t help the growl that slipped past his lips, then tsked as that made the two spirits look at him directly. The first smirked, raising one hand in point. “See what I mean? All souls ever do is sit around and abuse their privileges. And we treat them like they’re special?”
“They are kind of our job, Raven.”
She scoffed, turning back to him. “You’ve been listening to Mahaado rant too much. Vie, on the other hand, has some interesting ideas. Do you remember that speech he made yesterday? About negating the choices all together?”
Yami clenched his hand around his bottle, but knew better than to let his emotions get the better of him. Instead, he leapt out from the balcony, letting his wings stretch out behind him as he dropped. They caught him a foot from the ground, and he flapped hard, flying away as fast as he could. Damn them. Why couldn’t they just leave the souls on their own? Why’d they have to make life – death – whatever so… hard?
He let himself fly in a slow spiral, forcing himself to relax.
He couldn’t afford to be in one of his dangerous moods. Whenever he got into a mood, he earned more debt.
Yami was snapped from his reverie by a weak cough sounding somewhere below him. Intrigued, and already a little bored with flying, he folded his wings and dropped down into a tree to peer through the branches to the ground below. A Death Archiver was weaving their way through the garden, lugging a huge bag of food and biting into a massive meat and bread bun. Yami raised his eyebrows in surprise; Death Archivers usually only ate in public – some kind of symbol he didn’t understand.
Another cough broke through the stillness, and Yami winced at the raw sound of it. He hadn’t heard a cough like that since he’d died. He knelt down, wings shrinking back into his shoulders so he was as small as possible as he crawled through the branches for a closer look.
The Archiver stopped in front of one of the Quarters, and tilted its head back to look up at the third floor. Yami sneered as the dim light hit its face.
Yuugi. Of all the people.
Then the pint-sized annoyance was overcome with another coughing fit, and Yami winced again in reluctant but instinctual sympathy. Finally, Yuugi hauled in a breath and ripped into his bun, chewing hard. After a moment, he swallowed, with obvious difficulty, before looking up again, wing bones tearing through his shoulder blades.
Yami waited, just watching as Yuugi flew up to his Quarters and went inside. “I wonder what’s up with Grim…?” he murmured, but before he could really think about it anymore, a sudden shout caught his attention, and he twisted around in time to see two drunken souls stumble into the Quarter Courtyard.
They were just finishing off a drunken ballad about… sailors, from the sound of it, and laughed at the end, waving their bottles high over their heads.
“Ahh, Sparrow, Sparrow, mine dear Sparrow,” one cried, and grabbed the other around the neck, thumping his bottle against the other’s chest. “Sparrow.”
“Yes, Mister Bootstrap?” the other asked, with the kind of careful pronunciation only achievable by the very, very drunk.
“I,” Bootstrap announced, “need a drink.”
“Well you can’t have mine,” he replied gravely, then eyed his own bottle critically. “I seem to be running a little low myself.”
“I think, Sparrow, that this means we should procure ourselves some more. Sparrow.”
“An excellent plan.”
“Sparrow.”
“Yes, Mister Bootstrap?”
“Sparrow, where are we?”
Sparrow frowned, looking around at the Quarters. You could always tell the difference between spirits’ Quarters and souls’, though at first glance there didn’t seem to be any real difference. Yami put it down to the arrogance that simply radiated from all spirits in general.
“Sparrow,” Bootstrap said, suddenly lowering his voice. “Sparrow, I think –”
“Mister Bootstrap!” Sparrow cried. “I would like to pose a question to you.”
“Yes, Sparrow?”
“Do you think,” he began, then paused, and Yami smirked as the appropriate response came to mind, until he continued, “they ever get drunk?”
“What? Who, Sparrow?”
“Archivers,” he clarified. “Spirits. Do they get drunk, do you think?”
Bootstrap paused, thinking it over. “No. I’ve never seen a drunk spirit, have you?”
“… No. So why, Mister Bootstrap, should they have alcohol at all?”
“Seems a waste to me, Sparrow.”
“Indeed. I therefore think it is our duty, as their ever so humble servants, to relieve them of such waste, don’t you?”
“Mm-hm.”
“I saw we relieve that Quarters of its alcoholic supplies first; do you agree?”
“Mm-hm!”
And without any further ado, the two souls made their staggering way over to the building, hiding behind light fixtures and potted plants as they crept up to the door. They didn’t notice Yami drop onto the floor behind them, frowning in wary caution.
“Um,” Bootstrap straightened up as they stared at the doorhandle. “Sparrow. Um. How are we supposed to open the door, Sparrow?”
“With a pin, Mister Bootstrap.”
“Oh, of course,” he said, then frowned. “Do you have a pin, Sparrow?”
“No. But I imagine there’s one inside.”
“True, Sparrow. How would we go about getting the pin out here, Sparrow?”
“Simple. We smash the window, get inside, grab the pin, climb back out the window, and then we will have the pin!”
“With which to open the door!”
“Yes!”
“Of course!”
Yami closed his eyes, amused despite himself, but took a step forward to stop them before they could actually follow through on their plan. Unfortunately, he only made it a few steps before a new figure stepped into the courtyard. Yami stiffened, and two drunks spun around, gasping as the Death Archiver swept toward them, her eyes narrowing in distaste.
It was Raven – the idiot reaper Yami had heard talking earlier.
She raised an eyebrow at the two souls, then sneered as she realised what they were doing there. “I see…”
Yami frowned as the Grim Reaper raised an arm, palm open and fingers spread. He’d never seen one of them do that be-
His thoughts were cut short when the Archiver shouted a single word, and both Sparrow and Bootstrap were thrown backward by something unseen, flying past Yami to land sprawled in the garden. He hissed in a breath, then turned his eyes back to the furious spirit.
“Worthless,” she spat, walking forward. “Greedy, self-serving insects…”
She ignored Yami, continuing past him as her hand rose again. “You’re all the same. You live in our realm for centuries, take our hospitality, in return for a few simple errands, and you slack off from even those small tasks. Pathetic!” She shouted something else, but this time Yami could see the black whip that slapped out from her hand, across their chests and driving them even further into the dirt.
“Hey!” he shouted, clenching his fists. “What do you think you’re doing?”
She glanced at him, lip curling. “My job.”
“Your job? How is hurting my people your job?” he snarled, taking a few steps forward.
“It is my right and responsibility to punish the wrong doings and disrespect of those below my station, up to and including souls.” She threw out another whip, and Sparrow screamed in pain, his body arching. “Would you care to join them?”
“They didn’t do anything!”
“They shouldn’t be here,” she replied, blandly. “Nor should they be drunk. Check the contract.”
He glared at her, hissing through gritted teeth. “Leave them alone.”
“I will not. Just who are you, anyway?” she demanded, and he scowled, throwing back his head and squaring his shoulders, trying to look as dignified as possible.
“Yami. File Messenger Yami.”
“Oh, yes… I’ve heard of you. Troublemaker in life, and now so in death. It’s almost Romantic.”
She flung her hand toward him, and Yami braced himself for the blow, but all that hit him was a rolled up piece of paper. He snatched it out of the air before it could hit the ground, then opened it, surprised to see it was actually a long scroll, bound up tight and covered in tiny writing.
“Your contract.” She laughed, setting one hand on her hip, and only smirked wider when he glared at her again. “Oh, don’t look so offended. It’s not really a joke.”
He scrunched the scroll in his fist. “It’s not a joke, so I’m supposed to take it lightly?”
“Are you really speaking to me that way? Do you think you have some sort of right to condemn my actions?” she asked, then stabbed a vicious finger at the paper in his hand. “That contract gives me the right to punish those who wrong me. Nothing in there gives you the right to judge me.”
He looked away, licking his lower lip in annoyance. He was sick of it. He hated them all. “Wrong you. Wrong you. Okay, so they were thinking about doing something stupid, and yes, if they’d gone through with it, they should get debt, but whipping them with your creepy powers is –”
“Fair and equitable punishment,” she finished for him, and then walked around so she could meet his gaze. “It might hurt. Serve them right. But all you souls ever do is complain about debt, and now, you condemn me for providing an alternative?”
He frowned, turning his head as she continued walking further around him, pulling that long black ribbon from the air and stretching it between her hands. “An alternative?”
“File Messenger Yami,” she murmured. “Yes, I do remember you. Weren’t you the one that pushed DA Yuugi off that cliff, into that crowd of mortal seers last year?”
“I thought he was threatening me with that knife of his,” he growled, twisting around to keep watching her. Why was she still circling him? What was she, a shark or something?
“His scythe. And he would be well within his rights to do so, from all reports,” she noted, then smirked. “You know, Yuugi has a very bad habit of being too soft on you souls. I’d wager he didn’t even punish you for that.”
“Punish me? Like you punished them?” he asked, gesturing to the still-moaning drunks. “No. No, he didn’t. Yuugi’s a Grade-A jerk, but he’s not usually a psychopath.”
She made a noise, like an unamused chuckle, and then cracked her whip so it hung down by her side. Yami managed not to flinch, but he did turn to face her properly, straightening his spine and tilting his chin up in defiance.
“And here he told us all he did,” she murmured. “By section eight-three point five of that contract you hold in your hand like a shield, I invoke the right to punish the unpunished.”
“Un- I was punished just fine. Do you know how many years of debt I was supposed to have?” he snapped, but it didn’t exactly get the response he was looking for.
Raven smiled at him, and Yami had just enough time to realise she’d raised her whip before the world turned white in screaming pain.

-----

so yeah. I need opinions. I need help. Please? Pretty please?

Ohhh... um... second part...?

2009-10-25T09:51:15Z

So, so nervous...

The Prologue...

The Death Archivers

“What were you thinking?!”
Bakura opened one eye to watch his Opposite stalk into the room, and smirked at the telegram in his hand. “So you heard.”
Ryou gaped at him, waving the telegram in point. “You blew up the High Council Chambers?”
“They had it coming. They haven’t done anything in a good month.”
“You blew up the High Council Chambers,” he repeated breathlessly, then buried his face in one hand. “I don’t believe this! We were in line for a vacation to the mortal plains, and you go and blow up the High Council Chambers…”
Bakura closed his eyes again, folding his arms behind his head. “They weren’t in there at the time.”
Ryou could only groan in response. It had been a long time since the Council of the Higher Plains had actually done anything, but there was a reason for that. Everyone knew not to cross the Council. Everyone knew it had a temper you did not want to see put in use. Everyone knew the power it held. So everyone tried to avoid its wrath.
Except his Opposite, who went and blew up their chambers…
He sighed, covering his face with the other hand as well as he sunk down beside him. He’d be lucky if they didn’t get sent to the Harder Path for this…
“Calm down, Ryou,” drawled the other spirit. “It could be far worse.”
“How?” he demanded. “You could have blown up the Council’s quarters as well? You’re right, I should be thankful!”
He smirked, but shook his head. “Although that does give me a good idea for next month—”
“Bakura…!”
“—what makes this situation just fine is that we aren’t the ones facing the Council right now.”
Ryou glanced at him, nonplussed. “How could that possibly make a difference?”
“Haven’t you heard? Avvocato’s on the rampage.”
“Avvocato?” he repeated blandly. “Master Avvocato’s an advocate for soul rights; of course he’s on the rampage. He’s always on the rampage.”
Bakura merely smirked in reply, leaving Ryou to lean back against the wall and contemplate their fate alone.

----------

Keisatsu scowled at Avvocato as the Master prowled across the floor between himself and the Council’s Voice. The office was as empty as it was allowed to be, as it usually was for these judgements. Only the Council itself, its voice, the prosecuting loudmouth Master, the defendant—himself, of course—and a Messenger, ready to distribute the Council’s orders. Even that was humiliating, not least because they all knew he was guilty.
Ever the pompous windbag, Avvocato cleared his throat before beginning. “Today, we address the matter of the soul formerly known as Yusuf Modell. Not only was this child an orphan, mistreated from age seven and physically abused since age ten, but he was also kept in secret his entire life, as is tradition in his culture, due to his colouring. He was then sold, and burnt at the stake. Considering all that life has done to this soul, his credit rating is well beyond the common reincarnation.”
Narrin, the Council’s Voice, nodded, already bored, but Keisatsu didn’t let that get his hopes up. Narrin wasn’t sympathetic to soul rights, but the Council usually was. “Many souls from his culture have credit these days, Master Avvocato. What’s your point?”
“As we know, the credit/debt rating determines the choices a soul is given at the end of each life span. And it remains up to the Death Archivers, such as Keisatsu here,” he added, glaring back at the Archiver, “to offer souls the three choices.”
“The Council is well aware of its own laws, Master.”
Avvocato inclined his head in what almost passed for a deferential bow. “Apologies – I only meant to set grounding to remind us all that this is a given, and so no matter what technique each Death Archiver may use, the choice they announce the soul to have chosen is assumed to be the one they actually made. It does not take into account that the DA in question may withhold information from the soul, or, in fact, lie,” he added coldly. “DA Keisatsu manipulated this system. He did not explain the situation to the soul in question. He allowed Yusuf Modell to believe he was a mortal, and had the power to save him from death. Instead, he accepted prayers for forgiveness and offers of consolidation to be an acceptation of duty into the employ of the Higher Powers.”
Keisatsu clenched his teeth, glaring at Master Avvocato as the Council thundered in response. This wasn’t fair. He’d just been having a little fun, and now he was going to be punished, all because of one dumb soul? He flexed his fists against the table as Narrin paused, listening to the will of the Council.
“DA Keisatsu, the soul in question had credit, not debt. Even if he were to take the third choice, he should have been granted time as a Muse to another soul – why would you even think to chain him to employ?”
His eyes flicked around to focus on Narrin, but his sullen expression didn’t change. He was doomed either way. “It’s a soul. Muses mean nothing in the long run, and it’s not like we can’t use more servants around here. I didn’t think anyone would care.”
“Souls are not our servants, DA Keisatsu,” snarled Avvocato, before looking back at Narrin. “Due to this… careless nature, the soul is now bound to service until such time as his debt is removed. Since he is in fact in credit, and service can only redeem more credit, his debt shall of course never be balanced. He is stuck. A suitable position must be found for the soul, and Keisatsu must be punished.”
There was an awkward pause as Avvocato realised he’d essentially just told the Council what to do. But Narrin’s face remained blank, and the Council was ever the unreadable figure, so the moment passed in silence. Keisatsu tapped his knuckles against the desk, waiting for his fate to be announced.
Finally, Narrin nodded, his voice taking on the slight reverberation that meant the Council was literally speaking through him. “Death Archiver Keisatsu. You have been a faithful servant of the Higher Powers for many centuries—”
“Five, Council. I’ve served for five hundred and twenty-eight years!” he interjected quickly, but it went ignored.
“—yet you have broken rules, and strained the laws of our Plains. You have often been warned against these crimes, and yet you continue to act in such a way. Now a soul is caught, and unable to be removed from the Powers’ employ until his credit/debt is stable, which it now never shall be. Do you understand this situation?”
“It was one lousy soul! I hadn’t drafted a soul in a week, I felt –”
“There is no quota on souls to be fulfilled. The Death Archivers service their needs and help them transition between life and death. What you have done is not only a great disservice to them, but an insult to your station.”
He grit his teeth, pulling back from the table. This was such bull-
“In light of this, you are hereby stripped of your powers and title as Death Archiver, and sentenced to the Harder Path, until such time as the Council sees fit to recall you.”
He winced. That could mean anything between ten minutes and millennia…
“So let it be said, so let it be done,” intoned Narrin, before turning back to Avvocato, the reverberation fading. “Now, in regard to Yusuf Modell. You are correct. The Death Archivers’ powers are absolute – once a choice has been submitted, it cannot be reversed until such time as the soul’s credit/debt balance is restored to a neutral place. A credited soul in the employ of the Higher Powers naturally cannot achieve this state, and therefore, the soul of Yusuf Modell is in limbo. As such, the Council decrees that he should take Keisatsu’s position as the four hundred and thirteenth Death Archiver. May the soul hereby known as Yuugi be instilled with the knowledge required, and put to task.”
He motioned to the Messenger, who nodded once and then stood up, ready to deliver the telegrams that would start putting everything into action.
“So let it be said,” Narrin began, “so let it be done.”
“So let it be done,” agreed Avvocato.
“So let it be done,” Keisatsu growled, his fists curling against the desk. One day, he swore it, wings were gonna fall for this.

--------

Solomon Motoh had put up with an awful lot in his lifetime.
He had always had that certain… knack… for getting into trouble. Ever since he was ten, he’d been followed by those kind of situations that put you in some kind of danger. And, becoming addicted to the thrill, he’d become a game master, searching for the unbeatable challenge. At least until he lost, at which point he’d promptly put on a pair of overalls and start growing out rather than up.
That happened when he met his wife, Tianda. She was beautiful, smart, and was the one game he couldn’t conquer. So he’d married her, and they’d settled down together, running a toy store.
Tianda had died over ten years ago, leaving him to raise their then twelve year old son, Farrow.
And despite the fact that Farrow was practically an adult in most senses of the world, Solomon still found himself getting grey hairs from him.
Which was why he felt he was quite within his rights to groan when he opened the door on a pair of police badges. “Yes?”
“Uh, yes, I’m Detective Taylor, this is Detective Wheeler,” began the dark-haired man, indicating a blond to his left. “Are you a relative of Farrow Motoh?”
He sighed. “I’m his father, Solomon. What’s he done now?”
They exchanged uncomfortable glances. The blond stepped forward, brushing curls from his eyes. He could barely have been out of college. “Actually, sir, could we talk inside?”
He frowned, but stepped back, so they could enter the long since closed toy store, before leading them through to the house. “Before you start, I know Farrow’s not exactly in the running for a good standing award, but all in all, he’s a good kid. He just gets in the wrong place at the wrong time, usually. And we don’t have a lot of money in here, so he often –”
“We’re aware of your son’s criminal files, sir,” interrupted Taylor, wincing slightly. “And we understand his situation. He… has something of a name at the station, sir.”
Solomon sighed, waving them to sit. “Can I get you a drink?”
Wheeler shifted again, rubbing his pants. “No, thank you. If you could sit…?”
“What’s this about, exactly?” Solomon asked wearily, lowering himself onto the opposite couch. “Was Farrow arrested, or –?”
“No, sir.”
“Then what…?”
Wheeler frowned, fidgeting under his blazer. Taylor adjusted his tie. “Were you aware of your son’s plans this evening, Mr. Motoh?”
He nodded, confused. “He’d been talking about it for weeks. A band was playing on the waterfront… Elvis Priestly or something? He left an hour ago, it shouldn’t be over yet…”
“I’m sorry to be the one to have to tell you this, Mr. Motoh…”

---------

Yuugi sighed, leaning back against the side of the boat.
It had been so long since he’d been near the ocean. What was it? Fifty? Sixty years? Most of his duties were inland, so it had been forever since he’d last seen water, let alone been able to lie in a boat.
He didn’t like waiting. He’d never been particularly good at waiting for the soul to come to him. A combination of his own reaping, and his personality. He always felt the need to push them back, throw the soul back into its body and force them to live…
But this time, he didn’t mind so much. He was lying across a boat, his feet and robes dangling into the water, head propped up against the edge, watching the sun set. He had rarely had time to just watch the world turn, these last two hundred years. There was always something to do. The reaping, the archives, dealing with a new angel’s angst… it felt nice to just do… nothing… for an hour.
But he wasn’t at all put out when a head jumped from the waves, the boy gasping, coughing and spluttering, all at the same time. Yuugi put his scythe aside and rolled up, reaching out a hand to help him into the boat. “Sh, it’s okay, I’ve got you, come on…” It was all nonsense that meant nothing in the great scheme of things, but it made things easier while the soul recovered from the transition.
As his bare hand clasped the boy’s, he paused to allow the rush of information into his mind. Farrow Motoh, of the year nineteen fifty-eight. Only child, dead mother, never knew nor cared about his grandparents. More debt than he knew what to do with. Yuugi sighed. This one wouldn’t be an easy sell.
“There,” he murmured, as Farrow collapsed back in the boat, forcing himself to breathe evenly. “You’re out of the water.”
One sharp, crimson eye cracked open in a glare as the boy continued panting. “Hoo-fucking-ray.”
Yuugi frowned, deciding he would probably never get used to the changing euphemisms. He sat back on his heels, waiting for the boy to calm. It took a few minutes, but eventually the boy looked up from under his eyebrows, taking in Yuugi’s appearance with an appraising eye.
“Aw, hell.”
Yuugi blinked. “Sir?”
“This ain’t fair.”
He tilted his head, confused.
“Damn it all to hell! It ain’t fucking fair!”
Oh. Maybe he knew what was going on already.
Farrow put his head in his hands, fingers clenching against the dark red strands. “Tell me you’re a dream.”
“I’m not.”
“Tell me you’re early for Halloween.”
“I’ve never cared for the holiday, sir.”
“Tell me you’re a damn lunatic, please!” he shouted, still gripping his hair.
Yuugi sighed, folding his legs to set his scythe across his knees. “What do you think I am?”
He didn’t answer for a few minutes, and Yuugi merely waited, watching. He could wait. He didn’t like doing it, but he could always wait. Finally, Farrow raised his head, sharp, sad eyes focussing on his own. “Am I dead?”
He nodded slowly, and the boy glanced around, blinking rapidly. “And what’s this, the metaphorical sea of my consciousness?”
“No… this is the Atlantic Ocean. It’s very pretty,” he commented softly, tapping the water with his finger. “We’re about forty miles from the shore.”
Farrow followed his gesture, as if he could see the land if he did. “The dock… I was on the dock and I got in a fight…” His eyes widened and he immediately shifted in his seat, searching his body for something. “Did the guy have a knife? Did he kill me? I swear, I’ll haunt that bastard for the rest of his days!”
Yuugi sighed patiently, tilting his head. “You weren’t stabbed, sir. Or, at least, if you were, it didn’t kill you. You drowned. You won’t find a mark.”
Farrow ignored him, still twisting about in an attempt to find something to blame for his current situation. After several minutes of searching, he gave in, and settled for glaring at Yuugi, instead. “So what, you’ve come to tell me I’m dead now? Well, guess what, I figured that out!”
He blinked slowly, ever patient.
“But still. Thank you for the thought. Now, I’m going back to shore, and I am going to find that murdering bastard, and make the rest of his life a living hell.” He stood up, placed one foot on the edge of the boat, and pushed off. Yuugi tilted his head, watching silently as Farrow splashed heavily back into the water. And he’d seem so quick on the uptake, before…
He shook his head, reaching out with the butt of his scythe to scoop Farrow out of the water and back into the boat. Farrow hit the wood hard, coughing and spluttering out water that hadn’t actually reached the lungs he no longer had, and Yuugi looked away, wondering if he’d ever stop hating reaps like these. “Master Motoh, sir… the truth is, most of the stories you’ve heard about the afterlife are greatly exaggerated. I’m afraid you aren’t really a ghost, as it were. You can’t fly like that, or haunt people.”
Farrow glared at him. “Thanks for the heads up.”
Yuugi licked his lips, fiddling with torn seams of his outer robe as he waited for Farrow to calm down again. Unfortunately, it didn’t really happen as expected: the boy turned his head away, blinking back angry tears and scowling. “This isn’t fair. I’m only seventeen, I wasn’t – I was just trying to – it shouldn’t have been me.”
“I’m sorry,” Yuugi murmured, and Farrow shot him a glare.
“Oh, isn’t that nice? The Grim Reaper feels sorry for killing me. Well, thank you, I appreciate it,” he sarcasmed, and turned his glare back toward the shore.
“I’m not – I’m sorry, sir; I know you won’t believe it, but I am sorry.”
“Just shut up, alright?” he snapped, then ran a hand back over his hair. “Look, if I’m not a ghost, can we just… can we get on with this? Send me to Hell or wherever, I’m done with this.”
“Alright,” he sighed, and clapping a hand on his knee. “Shall we continue, then?”
Farrow glanced up as a wind began to blow, and Yuugi stood up, scythe resting forbiddingly in one hand while the other hid among his robes. “I, DA Yuugi, am here to tell you of the final choice. You, Farrow Motoh of the year nineteen fifty-eight, have three options.”
He glanced around, brow furrowing in confusion. “I what?”
“Your first option is simple. Due to your actions of the past seventeen years, your credit has dissipated, and your moral debt has risen far beyond your rights on the Calm path. As such, you may continue on to true pain, on the Harder path.”
“Harder?”
He nodded. “Yes… The two paths of Calm and Harshness. When I was alive, I suppose it might have been called Heaven and Hell. You have too much moral debt—you’ve done too much against the greater good—to be allowed into ‘Heaven’. As such, you can only go to, well, Hell.”
Farrow blinked at him for a moment, then snorted, shaking his head. Yuugi smiled guiltily, and Farrow’s smile immediately vanished behind a scowl. “Next choice.”
“Your second choice is to be reincarnated. Judging by your actions and credit/debt rating, you would return as a cat.”
Farrow continued to stare at him, but Yuugi honestly didn’t find anything strange with the idea.
“It’s not that bad a life, really. Being a cat, you could be treated extremely well. Fed, potentially cared for… of course, you would hate water, which is to be expected, but you would live out a more than reasonable life.”
A moment passed. “As a cat.”
“Yes.”
“Live my life as a cat.”
Yuugi shifted under his robe, seeing the slight problem. “Well… it’s an option.”
“So let me get this straight,” Farrow snapped, lifting three fingers. “I’ve got three choices. One is Hell, one is life as a cat; hmm, do I think I’ll choose the third option? Let me think.”
“The third choice –”
“Shut up,” he snapped.
“But I haven’t told you –”
“I am not spending however long as a cat.”
“I really must tell you –”
“You don’t listen very well, do you? I’ve made my choice. The other two aren’t even options, I’m taking the third!”
“But –!”
“I want the third choice!” he snapped.
“But, sir, you don’t understand, it’s –”
“Would you just listen? For God’s sake! I want the third choice; I would not choose the other two if you paid me! I choose door number three, understand?!”
Yuugi stared at him for a moment, then sighed heavily, his free hand reappearing to grip the scythe better. “You’re certain.”
“Somehow, I think so.”
He closed his eyes. “As you wish.” He bowed his head, inwardly calling on the powers of his station. Having never actually seen himself perform a reaping, Yuugi had only second-hand accounts of what he looked like in the process. All he ever felt was the surge of power, the heat of his and all the souls stored within him straining against his skin, fighting to live up to the power coursing through his body.
Honestly, he had no idea that his power shone like lightning, transforming his usually gentle, purple eyes into acid-blue, burning flames that glared at everything he looked at. He could never hear anything past the pounding of the souls in his ears, so he didn’t know the way his voice reverberated, deep and harsh, older than the stars themselves.
So he didn’t give Farrow time to stop being scared; just continued with the process as he was meant to.
“The soul of Farrow Motoh, of nineteen-fifty-eight, has been reaped, as in accordance to the laws of the Higher Powers. Having been offered three choices, he has chosen to enlist in the employ of the Higher Powers, and repay his debt, in chance to be reincarnated with a clean slate, and trialled again.”
He was vaguely aware of Farrow’s eyes widening, and the boy scrambling to his feet, shouting something, but Yuugi couldn’t hear. There was no going back, now.
“As such, he will be given the position of File Messenger, and the soul-title ‘Yami’. This is in accordance to the word-lore of the Council of Higher Powers, and the Masters of the Higher Plains.”
His power continued building, filling his body as the ceremony came to a climax. Unable to keep them in any more, Yuugi let his wings rip out of his shoulder blades – just the long, thin bones first, which segregated into joints, and then sprouted muscle and skin, quickly followed by the long, luxurious feathers that marked his station as a Death Archiver. They flared with his power, and he raised his scythe to finalise the contract, even as Farrow fell back, his mouth open in a scream Yuugi couldn’t hear.
“So let it be said,” he announced, gripping the scythe tightly, “so let it be done.”
Farrow ducked behind his upraised arm, and Yuugi brought the scythe crashing down, his power driving it down until he could finally bring it to a stop, only an hair’s breadth from Farrow’s arm. The power finally dispersed, and Yuugi let out a breath, pulling back in relief and waiting for Farrow to realise he wasn’t sliced in two.
It took a moment, but when he did, Farrow looked up with wide eyes. Yuugi bit his lip, glancing around as he felt the wind of the Higher Powers – the sign their power was working on the boy.
“I’m so sorry, Yami,” he murmured.
Farrow frowned, blinking at him, then stiffened, obviously feeling the first hit of power in his back. He croaked, and Yuugi dropped to his knees, throwing his scythe into the Higher Plains as he reached for the boy’s shoulders. “Yami – Yami, listen to me, this will –”
But anything else was cut off as Farrow threw back his head and screamed. Yuugi cringed, but he could only watch as the first wing bone shot out of the boy’s back, still sharp and covered in dripping soul. He shook his head, petting Farrow’s shoulders in ignored comfort.
“I truly am so very sorry…”

-----------

The second half of the first chapter...

I... need an honest opinion...

2009-10-25T09:46:25Z

Okay, so, I'm not fishing for compliments here - I really want your honest opinions.

I found my Reaping the Reward files. You know, the story that got removed from ffdn and I couldn't be bothered editineg it to put on the website (moot point now, really), and then I actually lost the floppy disk that I had it on? Well, I found it on a half-broken USB drive, and... so I started editing the thing.

So, honest opinion, guys - should I edit and repost?

For those who don't know/remember, RtR was a YGO story I wrote back in '04-'05. It started out because the one cliche I hadn't tried yet (but was ridiculously popular at the point) was the Angel/Demon trope, but it actually had nothing to do with demons, and only angels if you tilted your head and squinted. It was one of my most successful YGO stories, but it got deleted because, this was before the review-reply feature, and... yeah. I wasn't really upset when it got deleted, because it took me an entire year to do, and the subject matter got pretty dark sometimes, which lead to some kind of creepy reviews.

Anyway. Here's the edited prologue - give it a read and tell me what you think, please? Pretty please? I know I'm so slack when it comes to reviews--or even talking--myself, and I don't deserve it, and it probably sounds like I'm fishing for compliments, but... I really don't know what to do with it. Help?

Prologue

“Yusuf! Yusuf, where are ye?”
Bright, vivid purple eyes turned away from the red sky, just long enough to glance down through the branches of his tree and take in the sight of an older man stalking below. They narrowed slightly, and then turned back to look at the sky.
“Yusuf! Dammit… Yusuf Modell, ye’ll get back here right now, or so help me I’ll not leave the doors unlatched. Let the governor find ye, as I care!”
He sighed, looking down again. “I’m up here, pastor. Did you need something?”
Shandon came to a halt below his tree, pushing back dark hair to look up at him. “What in the name of God’s green earth are ye thinking, boy? Get down here and inside. Don’t’chye know the hunters are out tonight?”
Yusuf ignored him. “I’m just looking at the sky. It’s red, tonight.”
“Of course it’s red. It’s always red when the stakes’re alight. Now get down here and go inside!”
He blinked slowly, leaning forward. “The stakes… who was it?”
“Yusuf, I’ll not tell ye again; get down, now.”
“Who was the witch?”
Pastor Shandon looked up at him for a moment, before a slow smirk began building over his lips. “T’wasn’t a witch, boy. T’was a familiar.”
“A familiar?”
“Aye. But not the usual sort of familiar. This one was something like a succubus. This one was a human, doing the work of an untrained witch.”
Yusuf blinked, then gasped, reaching up to touch his cross. “It… I didn’t… I…”
“Aye… understand now? Now will ye come inside? If one of them finds ye, it’ll all be the same whether ye meant it or not.”
“But… I don’t… I didn’t mean for…” He shook his head and stared back at the sky. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to have you do such work, I… May God forgive you,” he whispered, and then hurried down to the ground.
“That’s better. I hate to tell ye, boy, but ye should know by now that it’s a danger for ye to look into any folk’s eyes. Them eyes’ve yours’ll curse any folk but me, I told ye that before,” stated Shandon, setting his hands on his hips.
Yusuf nodded, lowering his head. “I’m sorry.”
“Ye sorry? Ye sorry? Well, I hope the Lord heard ye, boy,” he said. Without warning, his hand shot out, savagely slapping the boy into his tree. “But it’s not good enough, and ye know it. Those who’re born to do the devil’s work’re always sorry, but ye know the only two ways out.”
He nodded, picking himself up with a wince. “Death and retribution. Aye, sir.”
“Right. And as you’re not looking to suffer the pits of Hell ye came from, let’s get ye to some retribution, shall we? Come, the church floor needs a’sweeping.”
“Sir.”
“And here, cover up that hair up yours,” he snapped, tossing him a hat. “The Lord don’t need to see that in his own house.”
“Sir.” He nodded, pulling it around his ears so only the dark base was visible, but it still shone with red highlights in the moonlight. They walked in silence for a few minutes, before Yusuf raised his head again. “Pastor? Will… will the governor find me? Would you turn me in if… if he searched our home, or the church?”
Shandon shook his head with an irritated sigh. “I won’t. Ye’ll be a good worker yet, boy. Demon or not, ye do God’s work well enough that I have not the time to do.”
“But if they did find me. If they wanted to – to burn me, too. Would you have me put to death? At least then I wouldn’t be –”
“Yusuf,” he said harshly, turning to look down at him. “I’ve told ye this before. If they find ye, I’d rather see ye dead than working. If they don’t, I’d rather see ye working than talking. Alright?”
He stared at him for a moment, then sighed, looking down again. “Aye, pastor.”
“Good. Now may we go on home, or would ye rather we wait here until the governor’s men come find us?”

--------------------

Funny how things work out.
Yusuf closed his eyes, leaning his head back as the warrant was read aloud.
He’d be born like this. He’d never wanted to be a demon, or a witch, or whatever he was. But he’d been born with eyes the wrong colour, and strange hair that not only defied gravity but colour conventions as well. Three colours ran through his hair, marking his power and status as one of the devil’s own.
But a church had brought him up. The old pastor, Simon Modell, had been caring, and giving, and believed that even if Yusuf was born with dark powers, he could be raised to be good. Despite this belief, he’d understood the townspeople and kept Yusuf from public eye. Only he and his student, Shandon, knew about him.
But when Simon had died, and Shandon took the position of Pastor, everything changed. Shandon told Yusuf about all the dark and evil things his power had unknowingly done; all the witches he’d created in his dreams. He told him that the only way to make up for what he’d done was to do the work in the church, and only pain would make the Lord forgive.
So Yusuf had spent the last eight years working himself bare, until he could barely stand; constantly receiving punishments for the dark powers that surfaced in the town.
His greatest dream was to overcome his curse, and finally be able to serve God as Simon had done.
“That a fact?”
He blinked, looking to the side. A young man with strange golden hair stood to the side of the stake pile, peering up at him as the last pieces of wood were added. “Do you really want to serve the power?”
He looked around at the crowd, who were all eyeing him impatiently. Was this his final questioning? Would they let him go if he repented? Confessed and surrendered?
“Y-yes! I… I didn’t mean to be a demon, I – please, sir, I just… I just wanted to serve, I… I’m so sorry.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” he replied, matter of factly. “You’re about to be burned at the stake because of your looks, my peculiar coloured little child, and this, dear one, is your final destination.”
“Wh- what? But I want to –! Please, sir, I didn’t mean to be like this!”
“Yes, I believe you, trust me, I’ve heard a thousand times before and then some,” the man waved him off, glancing to the side as the first torch was lit. “My question was simple. Do you want to serve the Higher Powers?”
“P-p- powers?”
“Uh huh.”
“The – the Lord?”
“Sure, if you want to call them that… why not?”
“I – Of course I do! That’s all I ever wanted!”
The man’s face split into a wide grin. “Well then. That makes all the difference.”
Yusuf stared at him, then laughed in relief. “Oh, thank you. I’ll do my best, I will. I’ll make up for what I did, I’ll spend my entire life trying to –”
“Life?” he repeated, laughing. “Life has nothing to do with this!”
His eyes widened as the first torch hit the wood. “What – what’s happening? You said – I want to repent! You said that made a difference, what are they –? Why are they –?”
The man smiled. “You thought I was one of them? Oh, by the ash, no! No, you’re going to die tonight. In the next… five to ten minutes, in fact.” He snickered as the flames licked at Yusuf’s feet. “I’ll tell you a secret, Yusuf Modell. The human race? It’s kinda stupid, and pretty pathetic.”
Yusuf’s eyes widened, as both his feet began to heat, and the man’s grinning face was suddenly only inches from his own.
“This whole demon thing they’re saying you are? It’s a lie. You’re just an ordinary kid with weird eyes and hair. And burning? Supposedly destroying the evil in you? It’s just one of the worst ways you can die that there is.” He paused as Yusuf began to pant, feeling the flames begin to burn his feet. “And so you know… the only ‘evil’ one is Pastor Shandon Jameson, who, by the bye, sold you to the deputy governor for ten shillings.”
He disappeared as the first scream ripped through the night.

---------
and the first half of the first chapter...

lediz @ 2009-10-21T16:47:00

2009-10-21T08:48:37Z

This is a test - a what? A test - a what? A TEST! OH, A TEST!

/obscure reference.

It's stuck in my head now.

...

DAMN YOU lavaliere!

OVER IT!

2009-10-20T07:38:13Z

So over work. So over being bored. So over hanging around waiting for stuff to happen. So over getting in trouble for stopping to talk to people when I'm wandering around looking for stuff to do. So over pissing off my 3iC (granted, she had a reason today, though I don't think she would have if we actually had all of our management team and she wasn't doing three jobs at once, but.... the point remains I acknowledge I was wrong, and I'M OVER THAT TOO). So over getting up at five thirty. So over leaving the house before seven simply to get a parking space that I don't have to pay for. So over the train. So over distributing emails. So over walking past stuff I want to buy. So over 17 bucks an hour. So over being in charge of office supplies. So over not actually being allowed to help other departments out. So over waiting on twenty-four hours for things.

So, so incredibly over it.

I don't need the time I have, but less hours means less money and I'm still not entirely sure I can afford what I'm doing. Hell, our store isn't really financially viable anyway - they keep saying we will be after Christmas, but for the love of Mike... this is ridiculous. Everyone who comes to our store from somewhere else comments on how very dead we are. And they're right! We're dead! We have maybe one financially viable day a week! We're a great store and the people that come in love us, but A) no one knows we're there, and B) there are TWO OTHER FRIKKING JBs WITHIN ONE HUNDRED FRIKKING METRES.

I'M OVER THOSE STORES STEALING OUR STUFF, TOO.

To quote Kat the Counter girl - "I mean fuck, man!"

GRAH. Bitch, whinge and complain. I'm supposed to be getting busier towards the end of the year. Instead, I'm learning how to do my job faster, so I'm actually taking even less frikking time. THANK GOD I have a meeting out the back of frikking Burke tomorrow, so I'll be able to take off at twelve, but that's still gonna be at least two bloody hours of nothing!

...GRAH. DO YOU HEAR ME?! GRAH.

Who do you call to organise stuff she won't go to...?

2009-10-19T08:44:44Z

That's right - this girl!

A while back I was volunteered to organise the Southern Region Christmas party (organising... -twitch- party... -twitchtwitch- for Southern Region -twitchetytwitchtwitch-) but that's okay because I don't really MIND doing it. It gives me something to do at work during those ridiculously long hours in which I am supposed to do... stuff I've already finished...

I still kinda hate it. Especially because, well... honestly? It's pretty much an excuse to get drunk, and this year, they want the focus to NOT be on getting drunk, so we're doing little subtle things to avoid it, like having it on a Sunday, in a tavern, etc etc. And because I send the emails, I get the flack! JOY!

The fact that I've never been to a work party before, let alone a JB's party, is entirely beside the point to the people who volunteered me.

-twitchetytwitchytwitch-

I should have thought about this as a possiblilty before wearing raver clothes to work... people think I actually go out. Hm.

In other news, it's almost entirely certain I'm moving in with Mel when her lease runs out next month! This is both very cool and very scary. Stay tuned for updates that will no doubt make you roll your eyes at my ridiculousness!

Due to Forces Beyond Our Control... [we are unable to finish our quotient of dance music...]

2009-10-14T22:47:45Z

Due to Forces Beyond Our Control, there's a possibility Mel might need a housemate soonish. And I want to move out.

The thing, at the time, was that I am a terrible, terrible person, and very, very lazy, and a hermit of the highest degree, so we all kind of thought it best if I moved out on my own next year. This was working for me, because... well, given how much board/rent I give to my parents and HOW LITTLE I ACTUALLY MAKE (so very bitter, yet, really, I have only myself to blame... BUT IT'S A JOB WITHOUT CUSTOMERS. BLARGH TO YOU ALL), right now I have only $400 a month to play with. Naturally, I have been playing beyond my means a little bit.

And I want to do so even more because JAY JAYS HAS FINALLY MOVED BEYOND HELLO KITTY AND KYUTE MONSTERS. So I want new clothes. And I've needed new jeans for, oh, about two years now, so...

ANYWAY.

But now Mel may need a housemate. And, I think, if she does, she might need it soonish.

On the one hand, this appeals very much, because Mel is good peoples. I likes my Mel. And she is responsible and intelligent and agrees with my undying need to download Merlin every week, squeal over Morgana, Ho-Yay, and the Great Slash Dragon.... and roll our eyes at the Arthur/Gwen story. Like I said, I'm concerned because I honestly don't know what I'm like to live with (the parents say it's like there's this little monster that comes out at night to eat, and surely MUST come out during the day, because that's the only way those shoes could have gotten there....) (I think this is a subtle hint to pick up my shoes, but I am rather pointedly ignoring it.) and I don't want to make life suck for Mel. Also, she tells me I have the habit of making her think, which, when that's what she does for a living, I kinda feel bad about.

Also, there's the money thing. But if I can catch her, I'm going to talk to Mum sometime today (she's housesitting for my sister [who is supposed to be housesitting but went on holiday], out the Back of Burke somewhere, so this may be something of an event) and ask what the deal is. I'm actually only paying so much rent/board because I owe her money... the deal was, originally, that if I had FULLTIME work, I'd pay her thirty percent of what I earn... I'm not quite on thirty right now, but I'm also not on Fulltime work...

Heh heh. I can number crunch in my hours of slack time today and everyone will think I'm actually WORKING. Go me!

...-sigh- SUCH a loser...

ANYWAY. If I don't have that much left to pay off, I may actually be able to afford living out of home this year. If Sister-mine is still willing to give me her furniture. Because that's one of those things I don't have, strangely enough, and you kind of need in order to live. A lot of people don't realise this, but yeah.

I still won't have a desk... this one can't leave these rooms because the hallway got renovated without us actually thinking about how we'd get furniture out.

THAT'S WHAT IKEA IS FOR, RIGHT?!

In other news, my new laptop has a metal strip around it, and possibly something wrong with its grounding, so every time it has a power surge, I get a shock. I took it in to work yesterday to bitch at Kris, who sold it to me, but he just shrugged and said "It's not shocking me" (which is a legitimate response, actually. My electric field is screwed up. Seriously. I affect radios. And I get zapped by everything), and also pointed out that we'd have to do the dodgy to return it for a different laptop now. Damn HP's rules and our bloody morals.

The lesson learned here kiddies is that you should never ever buy a laptop made out of metal.

But I love it otherwise. Even if I leave it hibernating for twelve hours or more, it wakes up in two seconds. That's just awesome.

In ENTIRELY other news... because I'm home in the afternoons and now no one else is and I am so incredibly bored while waiting for news about what I'll be doing next year (I probably won't find out about study stuff until December, and work-wise, it's something we need to bug the big bosses about getting around to, which... I don't really want to push my luck about because I'm still having issues getting my store running perfectly.... I HATE YOU AUSTRALIA POST GODDAMMIT... anyway...) (and now there's moving out to potentially think about... at least that might keep me occupied for a few weeks), I've been watching Cartoon Network. Well, actually, I've been watching Boomerang and getting seriously freaked out by Deshimashta! PowerPuff Girls Z (seriously. It's just... no. Japan, seriously.... no.) and flicking over Cartoon Network in the hope there will be Pokemon or Secret Saturdays or Gohan-episode-of-DBZ on... and I'm sometimes finding myself staying on Naruto.

So far, I've seen two episodes, almost a week apart.

They're still fighting the same guy, while Naruto is still chasing after Sasuke, who is apparently crazy or evil or something... they haven't quite figured it out yet.

And yet I'm intrigued.

Yes, everybody, shake your head in disappointment, because I fear I might actually be interested in Naruto.

I just had a random thought. Mel wants a cat. If we move in together, I could very well have a cat!

I like this. I don't know why, because cats tend to hate me unless I'm trying to write (in which case they love me and need to be with me right now), but... I like this...

Must... not... be... fangirl...

2009-10-11T08:20:24Z

Must...restrain...self... fangirling...bad...gah...

Seriously. Super Mario Brothers Z. Episode 8. Fight scenes. Oh baby.

I was never a Ninendo child. I've never played a Mario Brothers game. The closest I've come is watching machinima, and... well... yeah.

But between SMBZ and Tigura21 on youtube? So tempted. So very, very tempted.

Because CLEARLY it has nothing to do with the sheer awe-inspiring skills of the machinimation artists. It's all in the game. CLEARLY.

Must... restrain... urge... to squeal... dammit...!

In other news, I got asked about Reaping the Reward again... and again, I feel guilty, but have no real desire to edit the damn thing, let alone repost it. Oh, my life is pain. -bricked- Yeah, I totally deserve it, but... -double bricked- sorry.

I've got my philosophy...!

2009-10-07T22:53:02Z

Weird dreams. I have been having weird dreams lately.

I don't really remember them all that well, but considering it's been a while since I've remembered having dreams at all, I'm not overly surprised. But I always remember just enough to think they were weird.

Like dreaming that a new webcomic I've found in the last few months is going to close down, because it got too popular and freaked out the author. I really don't think that's going to happen with this comic, and it's honestly more likely that I'm going to abandon it, because I sense some slashy goodness, and in this particular fandom... no. It's already pushing my squick button a little by TECHNICALLY being about real people.

TECHNICALLY.

If TV weren't a horrible liar.

And they had super powers.

And aliens.

Moving on.

Usually my dreams are really, ridiculously boring, but weirdly prophetic. Like, I'll dream about writing a sentence, and then three weeks later... I'll suddenly realise I wrote the sentence I dreamed about. Or have the conversation I dreamed of having with my friends. I suspect this is just because the sentence or conversation topic has been working through my subconscious and since dreams are intrinsically linked with the subconscious and all that...

But it'd be cool if they were actually prophetic. I'd wish they were on slightly more interesting topics than sentence-writing, of course, but...

Last night I went to bed thinking about scarab_dynasty's last post, so I'm not altogether surprised one of my many half-a-dreams was about that (I woke up like six times. Last night was not a good sleeping night). No, not about speaking French, though I do have a friend that does. I can say 'oui' and 'non' with horrible accents and I AM DAMN PROUD.

More to do with spirituality and stuff. Coz all of my friends and I have different perspectives of religion and spirituality and the paranormal and all that stuff. And while we can and do have the discussions every so often, (one of them technically does religious studies, remember, and I have the bad habit of picking up little nuances in what she says when she talks about it that lead to discussions on ethics and religion and other big topics. Like the word evil. AND IT'S SO EASY WHEN YOU'RE E-VIL! -bricked- Sorry.) we make sure to keep things on a quasi-theoretical level. While we will say 'this is what I believe', we tend to go "uh huh" and move on to the more tangible concepts of belief (wow, that made little to no sense), rather than get into the whys and hows.

I don't actually remember my dream last night. But I know it had something to do with that, and all the Supernatural (TV show) Fandom Secrets there have been lately.

I DON'T EVEN WATCH SUPERNATURAL, WHAT THE HELL.

Very weird.

Scarab, I will comment to your post tonight. This afternoon. Whatever. It will be long and rambly and I apologise in advance.

Now I have to go to work. I'm going to try and actually work the whole time, today. No rambling walks, no strange discussions with Josh about the Mario and Sonic games (seriously. HOW CAN YOU HAVE BOSS BATTLES AT THE OLYMPICS?!)(and also, HOW did that question lead to Josh saying Sonic's the perfect height to be a boob man? SERIOUSLY. The boy is strange.), no stopping to stare at laptop boxes (they're totally planning something).

And hopefully I won't accidentally tick off my 3iC. I don't hold out much hope for this, but I'm gonna try.

Reeeally creepy echidna...

2009-10-07T12:52:03Z

So one thing I have to say I've noticed while playing Sonic Heroes, aside from the fact that even if you were good at this game, high-speed characters make great STORY characters, but they can never achieve their true awesomeness when human reflexes are behind the controls and therefore kinda suck a little bit... aside from that, I have to say the one thing I've noticed is that no one should ever complain about the 4Kids voice actors in the game continuity.

Ever.

I mean, sure, I would like to take to the woman who played Shahra with a handy two-by-four, and Jason Griffiths is only really just coming into the role, but after playing Knuckles in Sonic Heroes, where he is NOT played by Dan Green...?

4Kids rocks my geeky Sonic fangirl socks.

Seriously. You go play Sonic Heroes, hear Knuckles say "Too cool!" and not be a little disturbed. I dare you.

And then compare that with Sinbad. And still tell me 4Kids sucks in all things.

Creepiest. Echidna. EVER.

Gah! My computer is adorable!

2009-10-01T07:37:38Z

Turns out? I suck at emulated games. Just sayin'. I mean, I always kinda suck at Sonic-style games to start with (I love the franchise an' all, but my god do I not have the reflexes for speed-games), but emulated games? Where you have to figure out what keyboard key matches up with what controller key and WHY DOES ESC. MAKE ME ATTACK I WANT TO GO TO BED, DAMMIT and all that stuff? Yeah. Really, really suck.

However. In the Sonic PC collection, you also get these cute little cursor icons. Of course, I had to make use of this, and so now whenever my computer is thinking, Tails flies around my screen. And when it's actually working too hard to do anything else, Sonic goes for a run. And they're tiny and kyute and OKAYIAMADORKSHUTUP!

In other news, both Merlin and NCIS have quasi-disappointed me with their season returns, because both seem to have writers on staff that went "Ocrap, we need this plot point to happen! Uhm, uhm, uhm, okay, TADA! Done. I am awesome." When I am reading several really bad webcomics that can just insert plotpoints and wrap up storylines better than this in the space of two days? Seriously not impressed.

But hey. I do not write for televsion and I am not trying to win over the hearts of five million viewers without resorting to slashy supertext (yes, Merlin, I am looking at you), so WHAT THE HELL DO I KNOW.

........I'm going to make bread.