l’esprit de escalier

\o/ change of plans

2010-12-05T20:44:14Z

USTREAMING HERE IN ABOUT 25 MINUTES

hi, here it is!!!

2010-11-24T01:31:12Z

Hullo! This is my letter for my Yuletide Sandy Claws.

Ooops, wrong letter.

Anyway, here's some general stuff and then a breakdown.

Stuff I Dig ; you can absolutely never go wrong with gen with me! Things do not have to be necessarily shippy. Can't do shippy? Just make it general characters being themselves story. I like character studies, I like humor. I like sexy stuff. I'm not super hard to please. Not into cross-overs, but I can't really imagine someone wanting to do a crossover for me. Character dynamics I like are power-play, sarcastic banter etc.

Stuff I Do Not Dig ; Character death, overly obscene amounts of angst, overly kinky stuff because kinks are pretty subjective and I have a laundry list of stuff I'm not that into.

Yotsuba: I love every character, but I'd rather the focus be on the Koiwai family and their adventures. Jumbo and Yanda included. I would seriously prefer gen for this, but it doesn't even have to be plotty or anything. Cuteness is all I ask.

Eyeshield 21: I am a huge Hiruma/Mamori fan, and love to see their interactions. Can either be shippy or more straight canon -- I like to see Mamori one-up Hiruma because one-upping him is a so rare. Anything with good dynamics is fine for me! :D

Gundam 00: I requested Neil/Tieria and that ship lends itself to buckets of angst, but I'd love something really cute with them. Shippy or not. Something sweet and happy. If that requires AU, that is a-ok.

Venture Brothers: I requested Brock/Molotov or Monarch/Dr. Girlfriend, but I would strongly rather have the latter. My heart is too broken for anything with Molotov right now, so. I love every day kinds of stuff with Dr. Girlfriend and the Monarch: them being normal people. That's one of my favorite aspects of the show: when they're just people. That being said, I love them in every form, so. As long as they're happily married, no big issues.

Love,

Runcible/Aesthetically/Whisperbird

(Ps: Thank you!)

aesthetically @ 2010-11-07T01:07:00

2010-11-07T06:07:58Z

friends cut

(on LJ & Plurk)

if we never talked/commented/you didn't update much anymore. or really, if I felt guilty that I never had anything to say to you. you're all really great, sweet people and I wish you the best! <33333 take care, okay? :*

ha ha surprise! no sleep.

2010-10-01T11:49:26Z

BIG TUTORIAL POST
of big and huge

I promised I'd shared all the resources I'd collected by various means over the years with my flist & here it is!

Tutorials

Anatomy/Posing
01. Guide to Drawing the Body by Cedarseed
02. Guide to Movement and Flexibility by Cedarseed
03. Arms and Hands by Snigom
04. Hands While Kissing by AuroraCarina-chan
05. Ladies Tutorial by alexds1
06. Pose Tutorial by alexds1
07. Hands by Odduckoasis
08. Sketch Process by Wash-m
09. Figure Drawing by StudioQube
10. Human Anatomy by ImageC0rrupt3d
11. How to Draw Abs by Coelasquid

Painting

01. Skin Tutorial Part I by Navate
02. Skin Tutorial Part II by Navate
03. Digital Painting by Dianae
04. Speedpaint Step-by-Step by Tonikop
05. Stylized Portrait Painting by Thundercake
06. Mini Painting Tutorial by jdillon
07. What Skin Colors by Smirtouille
08. Blending by AcidLullaby
09. Skintone Tutorial by Cypherx
10. Step-by-Step Sky Painting by Khaosdog
11. Painting Hands by Ceruleanvii

Other/details
01. Basic Brush Tutorial by Sandara
02. Collected Thoughts on Brushes by Toerning
03. Perspective for Dummies by Mayshing
04. Perspective Tutorial by Sashas
05. Penciling Tutorial by Sashas
06. Painting Embroidery Patterns by Kay-ness
07. Basic Portrait Lighting by Kissmyhuman
08. Cloth Pattern Tutorial by Budgie
09. Adding Detail to Skin by Ceruleanvii

Resources

Anatomy/Posing

01. Pose Maniacs
02. Character Designs NSFW
03. Eye Angle Library by Tentopet
04. Hands by Dokyu
05. Hand Studies by Klar
06. Hands and Feet by What-I-Do-Is-Secret
07. Multi-ref Sketches by What-I-Do-Is-Secret

Other/brushes

01. Face Shading Trials by What-I-Do-Is-Secret
02. Brushes by Zhuzhu
03. Skin Texture Brushes by KeepWaiting

Not Tutorials But Still Cool

01. Process by Feimo
02. Steps by Janaschi

Videos

01. Painting by Yumedust
02. Face Painting by Idrawgirls
03. Process of Digital Painting by Learning2draw
04. Speedpainting by Idrawgirls

THIS ENTIRE TUTORIAL SECTION by Linda Bergkvist. This is the lady who brought us paintings like this.

And my paltry nose painting tutorial for what it is worth!

I hope this helps! I learned how to draw via the internet, since I didn't have access to serious art classes until I was 21. Draw draw draw and draw from life when you can!

oh boy oh

2010-08-30T06:07:47Z

I JUST WROTE THIS IN A BURST ON LAYNE'S COMP IN LIKE IDK LESS THAN TWO HOURS. I don't write much anymore due to my low ego regarding my skills, but gd it, it's fun & I enjoy it. I hope I don't regret posting this aka decide I hate it later.

Title: The Psychology of Normality
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn
Rating: PG-13, for words?
Words: 3,905ish
Summary: A story about Fran, and not about Fran at all.
Notes: My first finished Varia fic ever, I think? Oh god, so nervous.

The members of the Varia would give different views when asked, regarding what Fran would sometimes regard mentally as his capture by "savages", or his induction as the new officer of the infamous assassin squad.

Fran had heard of the Varia, often in hushed tones or in plain tones given by his master. He adopted his master's stance and was unimpressed by the Varia in turn. Opinions on their existence swung from reverence to fear and back again, with notes pressed on "Varia quality." Which sounded like a slogan for detergent to Fran. When he was kidnapped, as he put it, or invited it as they put it, he wasn't exceptionally flattered. He'd rather knock around with the company kept by his master, as obnoxious as they were.

The Varia were an entirely different breed of obnoxious unto themselves, Fran observed quicky and keenly. He remembered the summer he became the replacement illusionist both well and not at all. That is, in snatches and thoughts that didn't expressly matter. It wasn't that long ago, but he thought about it in terms of great spans of time. It was very hot that summer, unusually so. Fran tried not to sunburn in the loose clothing he wore before the gold-cream and black Varia uniform. He was indifferent to the outdoors, as he was indifferent to many things. Not by conscious choice; if you didn't have an opinion, you didn't.

But it was hot, that was more fact than opinion. The first time he arrived at his new home, he remembered his eyelids sweating and beads forming at the base of his neck, under his vibrant hair. He caught it in a make-shift ponytail with a fist and fanned at his skin with the other hand. He remembered other moments, in bits and pieces. Looking out at the white clouds barely visible through an ivy-covered window, the light blinding on too little sleep, and thinking about Mukuro, briefly.

In the beginning, that life had seemed more real, their training. How ironic it was, considering much of his existence was built on smoke and mirrors; that portion in time had been filled with intangible illusions and things of imagination. It was the intangible, the unreal and strange things Fran had understood. He felt more comfortable with what he understood best. Fran felt, above all, his strength was in the understanding. The seeing through and grasping. It made life easier to adapt.

He also recalled he drank too much bottled Coke that summer.

The first week with the Varia he formed indelible theories and views. One morning he awoke to that blonde guy with the tiara and the permanent grin that veered toward a leer waiting for him with a "present." It turned out to be gigantic, cartoonish frog hat. The mouth fit the head and the eyes sat perched on top, watery and adorable.

"Thank you, sempai," Fran replied. "But it's not my style. Perhaps you'd like to take off your toy crown and wear it instead?"

Belphegor had laughed and insisted. Insisted in the manner that he forced it on Fran's head, Fran's skinny arms akimbo as he tried to push him off, but was met with threats of death regarding its removal. A bit severe, Fran thought. But then that was de riguer here, it seems. Extravagant over-reactions. Was everyone that angry or just bored between killing? He'd humored him, even though the hat was hot and sweaty, even in the cool, dark rooms.

At first he thought it was an initiation rite, like a fraternity hazing a new member. They all seemed keen on him wearing it and relished his humiliation. Then after a few days he realized they were just insane.

Fran didn't know, at first, if Belphegor hated him or hated him for other reasons. He interacted with Bel the most in the beginning, if only because they were both younger and because Fran's propensity for irritation got around quickly. Bel was also irritating to them obviously and the two deserved each other. Fran couldn't help it they found him irritating. That was their own problem, amongst many. People wasted time not being honest. Perhaps it was his extra perception or his ability to decipher reality or because he just didn't like people unless he could get a rise from them.

It didn't occur to him often, but on an idle Wednesday he'd sip Coke through a straw delicately and try to rid himself of pointless navel-gazing. What was the point of that either?

There were numerous reasons Bel could hate Fran and it was obvious. Fran had that thing with finding the exact trait that annoyed someone about themselves and reminding them. Or find self-doubt within or just something that plain irked and repeated it. Fran would question Bel's royal status on the regular, which he realized would be the standard issue.

He wondered after some time if it was because he couldn't become a well-enough replacement goldfish for the closest thing to a friend Bel had, at least as Fran saw it. Mammon had been gone for some time and they had been closer than the others. Fran understood this and oddly, understood the feeling of being uprooted unexpectedly, if only on a superficial level. It didn't mean he had to care, however.

His second notion regarding Bel, Bel's mannerisms, his irritation and the resulting idea that they were thrown together to get rid of them was based on his interactions with other Varia members. The guy was clearly not a teenager anymore, but acted with an almost child-like disregard for anything. Maybe that's how royals were; Fran didn't doubt it.

Fran had come on to an argument -- hard to ignore -- between Squalo and Bel. In so much as Fran could gather, it was about fig gelato. Not just that, but in the scheme of things, Bel's disregard, this time for property. Or maybe it was just about dessert.

"Voi, that was my fucking gelato, you little shit and you knew it. I didn't buy it for you!" Squalo had, or to that effect, said. Or similar. But it involved the words "little shit" and "my gelato", give or take fuck or voi a few more times, which peppered his sentences more than catches for breath between yelling.

I'm a prince, was all Bel said. Which impressed Fran a bit, because such a dumb explanation was so simple and effective. The result was beautiful: Squalo looked blind with rage, then realized how useless it was to argue, obviously. Fran knew Bel had been a member since childhood. If Squalo didn't know how to deal with him by now, he never would. And he seemed to. He threw away the carton -- which Bel had placed back in the fridge empty -- and muttered something vile.

In fact, he said if Bel ate anything of his again he'd make him puke it up and eat it. Which was said almost as an aside, without much conviction. This was Squalo.

Fran had watched Squalo brush past him, out of the kitchen and he wanted to smile, comrades-in-arms with Bel, united over amusement. But it wasn't meant to be at that moment. Bel did seem proud of himself, though. The moment he saw Fran, his mouth twitched as though he tasted something unpleasant and Fran expected this and was not offended.

Starting useless arguments with Bel on slow days was ideal amusement fodder as well. Bel wasn't stupid, but neither was Fran. It usually ended with Fran stabbed somewhere and it was worth it. Fran didn't know why, but the best fun came from uselessly making Bel doubt himself when they talked, if only for a second; Fran ignoring everything Bel said until he found just the right moment.

At dinner, Bel mentioned something to do with America, specifically Michigan in America and Fran, out of the conversation, had questioned whether Michigan was a city or a state in the US.

"Ushishishi, it's a state, you stupid frog."

"Is it really?"

The look was incredible. There for a split second and gone the next.

Bel was also one of those people who thought peanut butter belonged in the fridge and Fran didn't know how to handle that. Like everything else in their lives, even their peanut butter was wonderful-- "Varia" quality. This would never not amuse Fran.

"Oy, sempai, that's a pantry food, don't you think?"

"It'll melt in the pantry." And so the struggle began.

Another good target was Levi, who worshiped the ground their boss walked upon. A very easy target, but Fran knew that. However crude the thought was, Fran knew he'd get on all fours for the boss if the boss felt peckish. But he also knew that even if Levi's lips were the last on earth, boss wouldn't choose them to pleasure him. Levi knew this too. He would never be good enough, simply, and his struggle was classic and enduring: he would never reach the standard he had set. It was sad. Levi had power ... the least in the Varia, however. Levi was just blinded by Xanxus' power. Fran didn't feel he could blame him. Xanxus cut an amazing figure, fit to blind those who couldn't stand on their own without his approval.

Levi was a good target for the others. He seemed at times over-conscious of himself. It was obvious, or at least to Fran. Once at a meal, he'd gotten angry and mixed up two words in his rage and before he could correct himself, Lussuria began to laugh and everyone else began to laugh, save Fran and Xanxus. Levi looked like could spit nails and took out his fury on Lussuria, who'd started it. And by that token, started threats.

Fran felt like an anthropologist send to study a strange culture, in these first times together. Or like that woman, the blonde on TV who he'd seen on old animal shows who knew so much about monkeys.

Not much later, Bel had gotten angry himself and pulled knives out of who-knows-where on his body, and still smiling, had threatened everyone at the table and Squalo had yelled at him to sit down and shut up. Xanxus remained impassive, and Lussuria had sighed, lamenting his "children", ruining another of his good meals, only to be cut off by Levi's insinuation that he, Lussuria, had started it all. Fran definitely felt at the end like Jane Goodall and her chimps.

Xanxus' ability to remain stoic was one of his two settings, Fran would think of it. He had off and he had on. He had in between, of course, sometimes. Xanxus was not a simple man. Xanxus was an insane man and insane men were never simple, no matter what outward appearances suggested. Fran knew this because every man he knew was insane, starting wth Mukuro who was as simple as a star map.

Xanxus had not caring and he had rage. Sometimes you didn't know what was coming, Fran figured, very early on. Placating him didn't work. Much like Bel, he had a tendancy toward what Fran thought of as childish demands. But that had nothing to do with age. Bel was in his twenties, Xanxus was thirtysomething. Being spoiled was an incurable disease that didn't get better with age.

Xanxus, for days before and after his arrival, had been built up mythically in Fran's head. If Satan himself had walked down for breakfast, Fran would have only been surprised for a moment. The man before him looked more normal than the rest of them: a tall, dark-skinned and dark-haired Italian man. Normalcy, even in looks, was absent in the Varia: Squalo with his sheet of white hair and missing hand, Lussuria's penchant for feathers and mohawks, Bel's tiny tiara and Levi's stupid mustache. Even with those scars, Xanxus just looked bored sometimes.

Despite what their thoughts on the matter, everyone served and placated boss. Squalo, a fierce man in his own right, was boss' personal whipping boy. Sometimes Fran wondered if Squalo just existed to be Xanxus' living stress ball. Instead of a bean bag to squeeze for anger, Xanxus would just hit Squalo. Squalo didn't seem to mind and for that, Fran found him stupid. Stupid -- and scary, Fran would concede.

He didn't read too deeply into the relationship of his boss and the shark, because it was shrouded in years and too much complication. Fran decided if he personally couldn't figure it out, it was pointless or dull, except in this case. There was nothing dull about either of them and it was obvious, at least to Fran, that Xanxus regarded Squalo with some modicum of respect. It didn't make sense in regards to his treatment of him. Fran didn't want to see how Xanxus would treat someone he loved. (Considering this a possibility. Fran simply didn't know.)

Facades placed by people were an every day occurrence and even the extraordinary people were no exception. Fran couldn't exactly peg Xanxus and that fascinated him. That was exciting and new. There were few people like this and he called one master.

At times Xanxus seemed almost comically inflated with legends and stories. Even after finally meeting him, a disinterested look affixed to his face, a seemingly normal man, he still radiated with something different. It rose from his like an aura and if anything, that was reason not to abandon this venture, the Varia, Fran decided on the spot. That and the fact that he was technically a prisoner and employ. Didn't they call that a slave? Indentured servitude?

Fran had once mentioned the concept of Stockholm Syndrome and chased it quickly with the comment that he didn't like any of them, so that wasn't it. It was said flatly and in jest, but if there wasn't some shred of truth to it, in some way ... at least in the respect of Xanxus. The others could come and go, and there was something to him like an impenetrable stone fortress. He could somewhat understand Levi's passion, Squalo's devotion and the others present and before him: why they served this man, despite their own skills. It was strange and not in the sense of an illusion: in the sense of a real human way.

Lussuria commented once that they seemed united under one flag, just for that man. It had surprised Fran because of the lack of gyration and flowery speech, but Lussuria wasn't unintelligent either. He was both harmless and not harmless. He didn't bother Fran besides the colorful mannerisms, which were enough to provoke rage in anyone. Lussuria was harmless like a carnivorous tropical fish, which was fitting of his appearance. Flashy and bright, but if provoked could devour the other tiny fish without thought. Fran didn't like being called "dear" or "love" and didn't like the kind of music Lussuria listened to. That was all.

Fran didn't collect his thoughts like this coherently, but rather impressions came in a rush. He wondered if one day he'd write an autobiography and this would be the theme: cohabitation with beasts. He could see the opening line in his head: I was appropriated one day.

Outside the window on this June night, he was thinking about the future from lack of sleep and how the year had come full circle. It was a hot night, even after the sun had gone down. It'd been a long year that had seemingly passed quickly, but taken bit-by-bit, blow-by-blow, was stretched like taffy across the expanse of time.

"I was appropriated one day ..." he said to himself again and bit inside his cheek, because he didn't know where to go from there. Simply because that was as far as he'd gone at this point. What else was there to say? I live in an insane asylum with murderers and very good food.

Fran hadn't even considered the possibility of fear in himself until that very moment when he rolled on his stomach, then sat up, adjusting the pillow to the cool side. He knew for a fact he was a skilled illusionist and taught by the best. Here he was with the best, "appropriated" by the best. Yet at the point of this year, what else was there to it? He didn't know these people or care for these people.

In the moonlight from the window over his head, the frog hat sat mocking him. That frog hat wasn't anything more than a symbol of his lowliness here. They said jump, he jumped, but not without difficulty swallowing the command. Fran had decided he'd keep jumping, but only because at the helm of this ship was Xanxus. Without him, what was the Varia? They had survived, many years ago, for a time without him.

But they -- this group -- were born from a mutual respect, fear, reverence, hatred. The fact that one man could wield this power ... Fran himself felt compelled and Fran didn't feel compelled, simply. It was hard for him to get passionate and he was far from declaring love for his boss, but there was that bit of devotion, growing like a flame on the wick of a candle. Fran didn't understand it.

It was frightening.

He kicked off his covers before he realized and was standing on the floor before he realized. It was midnight, and before shuffling to the door, he placed the hat on his head. He could hear music from another room, somewhere down the hall. What would they do if they caught him without the hat?

Fran didn't bother with shoes and except for the distant sounds, muffled behind a closed door, the house was silent and dead. His feet made the only sound on the carpet, then hardwood floor as he padded blearily down the halls. He felt like he'd been asleep at one point, but not any more. Nothing was keeping him up, but he'd think too much if he was up.

He needed something to snack on, or a glass of water. Or an excuse to get out of bed, most possibly the latter. It was chilly towards the center of the house and Fran regretted his decision to not put on shoes, the floor cold beneath his bare feet. A few months ago, this place had felt strange, like a hospital or a hotel in a new city. He felt almost at home, and at least knew where everything was, like the kitchen, outside of which he now slid to a halt, hearing the clinking of cups inside. The door was closed, but someone was up.

Not what Fran needed, which was to be alone. He wasn't in the mood to be bothered with anyone, but grateful for putting his hat back on, may it one day rot in hell. He hoped it wasn't Bel getting milk or sneaking the peanut butter back in the fridge like the perfect picture of a spoiled child.

Fran cracked the door less than an inch and peered inside, to determine whether or not to go back to bed. Levi or Lussuria, he could handle. He might ask Lussuria to cook him eggs -- cooking was a surprising, impressive skill of his. Lussuria cooked eggs in just right way, fluffy, yellow, and --

The figure inside was Xanxus, not even dressed for bed, clad simply in a white shirt and slacks. He was moving around the kitchen alone and Fran was almost surprised he hadn't asked someone to fetch him a night snack. Almost, but not quite. Even a king needed to breathe without subjects. Considering the way some of them stuck to him like glue (Levi, no need to not name names) or just simply annoyed, Fran could see a bit why his boss would just want to be by himself. Fran wanted to be by himself daily and he wasn't the leader of this motley crew.

Xanxus had what looked like a mug of tea, putting milk from the glass bottle in the fridge and some very fine honey inside. That was surprising -- Fran, despite seeing him do away with large quantities of steak, was certain he ran on nothing but spite and tequila. Here he was, a lone figure in the cold kitchen, making a cup of tea. He didn't hear anyone outside the door, or chose not to notice as he sat at the long table.

For a second, he seemed like another man, another person sitting alone at the table, unable to sleep, as Fran was. Craving solitude. It was hard to believe and Fran wrinkled his brow, trying to draw the connection. Xanxus, flames covering his hands, Xanxus and the story of his scars. Xanxus and how he had not quite given up the hope of becoming tenth, in that desperate way people will cling to something they will never receive. He just seemed normal.

Yet, there it was. He wasn't and Fran, for this seeming ordinary encounter -- or voyeuristic encounter, if he was truthful -- could find himself still confused, drawn, complicated, everything when he thought of Xanxus. The facades of people, even extraordinary people and Fran's theories thereof held no proof here. Here was someone Fran couldn't, for all his trying, "figure out" and maybe that was the crux of it all. Maybe there was nothing there but mystery still, finally and forever. Maybe that was the source of the intense longing to know more, to follow him down.

Or maybe it wasn't. Maybe it wasn't, and Fran was tired of thinking and trying to figure it out. People were the worst and he should stay to things he understood -- surreality and its creation and manipulation. People really were the worst.

Fran watched his boss for a few more moments, Xanxus just sitting at the table, drinking tea -- hilarious in its normalcy and abnormality. Here was one of the insane men, and at the moment, Fran felt totally at ease watching him be mundane.

He decided to leave before Xanxus pushed back his chair and rose to leave in turn -- but was too late, as the moment he thought it, Xanxus was on his feet, walking towards the sink. From his vantage point, he saw Xanxus circle the sink, depositing the cup with a clink and walk towards the fridge, pulling out the jar of peanut butter with a frown. He placed it inside the pantry door on the opposite side of the kitchen and Fran felt a fleeting sense of triumph, before scrambling to hide in the dark shadows outside the kitchen as Xanxus left for bed.

Fran bit the inside of his cheek again once alone and decided not to think any more tonight, if he could help it. It hurt his head which felt heavy from the hat and the feeling of robbed sleep. He wondered if there was any soda in the kitchen or if that's what he needed. Who knew what he needed? Well, sleep for one, he thought. And for another, a less complicated life. Perhaps his autobiography would end with retiring to France, if he lived that long, left with nothing but memories and scars of Belphegor's knives.

He didn't know if he'd understand Xanxus then either, but at least knew for a fact that he was on his side regarding the peanut butter. That was important.

/breathes!!!

Like you imagined when you were young

2010-07-30T06:03:13Z

OK OK OK so o///o

o////o

This is the story I mentioned on Plurk. This is canon, but it doesn't really happen in the story. It's super pre-story. But I like this scene, so I decided to write it before I forgot it entirely. Even if only Layne & I read it, which I fully expect, I'm having fun writing it.

Title: When You Were Young (1/2)
Words: 2,600+
Universe: Morning to Moon
Rating: PG
Notes: I wrote this with a busted keyboard, so if you see a typo, please ... pretend, for me, it is not present.

Outside, the sound from the crickets was nearly deafening, especially with an open window. It had been barely thirty minutes since the rain had stopped. The good thing about living just outside the city, Samaire realized, was that it bridged the gap between desiring things like seeing the moon on clear nights and being close enough to get to work without too much problem. It was truly the best of both worlds; she couldn't claim it provided much privacy, as she lived in an apartment in a suburb.

But on these wet April nights, the cool air drifted in from the road and, with it, the sound of wildlife. The crickets and the various choruses of frogs, some of them sounding eerily not unlike church bells. It was a strange comparison, but they had this throaty croak that echoed through the dark like Sunday noon in the country.

It was a sound she hadn't heard in a long time and simply didn't care to. What this city life brought was a complete disregard and thorough trashing of those country values. There were priests and some churches, but who visited them? Out of towners, country people. Samaire didn't care either way, but it was a slight nostalgic thought that made her sit up in her chair by the window, set her book on her lap. It was something she hadn't thought about in a long time, and for good reason. Just because it was nostalgia, it didn't make it good nostalgia. There was a difference.

Samaire wasn't the type of person to chase the past. Or she didn't consider herself a person who did. She had made declarations on the subject. What were the golden times, she'd asked her father, when he talked about a time when girls respected their parents' wishes. I think they just exist in your head. This was one of the last things she told him before she left.

There wasn't pangs of guilt here, or soft sighs as she picked up her book. Samaire just rolled her eyes and remembered how these things all seemed to mix together: her father, the church, leaving home. They had in common the sense that they were all things she was over, completely. She would say that aloud when she didn't feel like discussing it: I'm over it. The end.

It worked because her next few thoughts were, in order, this is a good book, is this going to be a sex scene, I didn't think they wrote sex scenes in this series and what's that noise.

At first, it sounded like a very large insect hitting a window, but if it was hitting itself that hard, it'd be dead. Just a dull thump thump against a hard surface. It took her only a few seconds to realize it was pebbles hitting something. The side of the apartment building, most likely.

Samaire looked at her clock. It was just past eleven. Was it really that late?

The sound of the rocks, which they had become in her mind, instead of "that noise", stopped. At least for a moment before there was a loud thud and a soft voice saying, "Hey, HEY."

Samaire suspected as much, but trying to ignore the sound wasn't going to work, clearly. A soft voice was about to turn into a loud voice in few seconds. She carefully placed a tasseled bookmark inside the pages and leaned out the window disapprovingly.

Ashe smiled up, not the least bit guiltily, from the courtyard outside.

"What?"

"Let me in, the front door is locked."

"Our land lady locks the doors at 10 pm," Samaire answered flatly. "Only the tenants have keys, you know that. She lives on the top floor and isn't above dumping buckets of water on the noisy."

"Sam!"

"Plus, you were throwing rocks at the second floor window below mine. I'm glad that room is unoccupied, you know." Samaire frowned. "And you know what floor I live on!"

"I saw your window was open. I didn't want to hit you with a rock."

This was logic, she had to concede. Instead, she sighed. "What is it? It's too late, I'm on duty tomorrow, I can't go out with you tonight."

"Oh, but you'll want to!" Ashe yelled back up.

"Be quiet!" Samaire looked out and up. The light was still off in the land lady's room. Not for long.

"You'll want to," said Ashe, more quietly. He put his hands in the pocket of his jacket and gave her what she knew he hoped was a "winning smile."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Okay," she said. She have to put her pants back on, but she couldn't yell that out. "I'm coming down, but you can't come up. I won't get you to leave. I mean, I really am on duty tomorrow."

Ashe yelled this was okay, and Samaire winced at the echo of his voice in the courtyard, as she shut the window and fitfully threw on a pair of wrinkled jeans.

It wasn't that she wasn't happy to see him. She was. His face still provoked this strange feeling in her stomach it did a year ago, but it also came with a touch of annoyance, because he could've come by much earlier. She'd been home for three hours. She made note to tell him this as she hurried down the stairs. They'd go out tomorrow night. They were adults now, they didn't just stay out until morning when work was tomorrow. Samaire didn't, at the very least.

Ashe was waiting right outside the door the moment she unlocked it. She only had a moment to close the door behind her before he grabbed her bodily and kissed her. It was a quick kiss, but unusually furious.

"Hello to you too, drunkard," said Samaire with a laugh, noticing Ashe's face fall immediately.

"I'm not drunk!" he replied resolutely, his hand still gripping hers. He gave it a squeeze and added, "I've just been up and thinking."

Samaire almost added, "And drinking," but his pained look was genuine. Besides, she thought, he seemed to barely be able to contain his glee and the moment he mentioned thinking, his voice lowered to nearly a whisper. He was as serious as he could be.

"Marry me," he said simply.

"Excuse me?" Samaire laughed, then covered her mouth realizing the echo. Ashe's face lit up at the sound of her laughter and he began to laugh too, louder than she had and didn't try to muffle it.

"No, no," he said, hysterical laughter just around the corner, "I'm really serious."

Samaire stopped laughing immediately, but Ashe kept laughing until he saw her face. "You look so damned shocked, Samaire. The look on your face is priceless."

"It's a joke?"

"No, it's not," he said again, lifting a finger to wipe tears of laughter from his eyes. "I love when you get that look, it's so hilarious. I could tell you anything, you'd just fall over."

"So, you're serious?"

"Yes, I am." He grabbed her hand again, which she'd pulled away to cover her mouth. "I really am. Do I look like this often?"

He shook his head, not waiting for a reply, which she didn't think she could form. "I told you something before, I want to know if you remember it. I told you once I didn't think I felt about you how I felt about anything else. Anyone else. I did, didn't I?"

He had. Samaire's mouth was suddenly dry, and all she could do was nod. He had said this two months after they'd started dating seriously. It'd only been six months now, but it seemed cold, or tasteless to mention this right now. Samaire squeezed his hand back.

"It's still true. I want to prove this."

"Prove it?"

"Okay, prove is the wrong word," he said, waving his other hand. "I want this to be concrete. I want to show people."

"You're going to show me by eloping with me at midnight on a Tuesday night?"

"It's not midnight yet, and it'd be Wednesday. But yeah, I am."

"What about a wedding?" Samaire felt she was playing devil's advocate or playing the part of logic uselessly. But when did anyone get asked these things, everyday? They didn't. Samaire never had been. She felt her reaction appropriate.

"Screw a wedding. Do you want a wedding?"

Samaire really didn't. Age was irrelevant, to her. They were old enough to work and had been for years. But what would people say about their marriage at this age? Working was one thing, getting married might be another. People didn't matter, Samaire countered herself, but what about their friends, their -- his family? They did matter.

Samaire supposed they did, but almost as though something else had taken over her vocal chords, she felt herself saying, "I don't want a wedding."

"Okay, I'd give you one if you did." He smiled again at her. "But I really don't want to."

Samaire didn't answer and she hoped Ashe didn't expect her to. The hand on her vocal chords seemed to have receded, the force bringing words out of her. She felt like she could say nothing until the sentences had tumbled and polished in her mind. She bit her lip.

The sounds of the frogs still echoed around them and for a moment, that was all they heard and all she felt was the weight of his hand and the breeze that tickled her bare arms.

The feeling was back.

The feeling she had felt when he'd said yes to a date, the feeling when they kissed for the first time, the feeling when they'd made love for the first time. The first time he said he loved her and she said it back, the feeling when he whispered in her ear, admitted he didn't know how he could feel this way but did. In his whole, short life, he hadn't felt this way about anything or anyone since and she believed him.

The feeling started in her stomach, and made her heart beat, it electrified her fingertips and pumped her veins with this excitement she didn't know she'd ever felt before. She felt goosebumps. It was this childish, primal feeling of happiness, intermingled with this feeling of success, though that was the wrong word. Were there words? There were. There were thousands and they were dead wrong too.

When she'd first joined the guard, she'd seen him sitting under trees, holding court with friends and flirting with girls and it had arrested her for a time. She remembered wanting to spit at her reflection in the mirror. Who are you to be good enough for anyone? She didn't know boys, men, romance, whatever. She didn't think she could. Her courage to approach him seemed stupid, but when he'd said sure, they could "go for dinner", she felt even more stupid, for ever hanging her self worth on another person. And of course, for the doubt.

Now that same young man who seemed untouchable was holding her hand, his face flushed, and smiling. She had long since cast aside that her feelings were simply because they were reciprocated or because someone did reciprocate them. That was stupid. Her feelings were because she loved him. Why didn't it have to be that damn simple?

"I will," said Samaire. "If you want to get married tonight, we will. I still think you're crazy, but I think anyone would."

What she didn't expect was Ashe to grab her in his arms and pick her up. She expected a hug, of course. And his grab was so unrefined and rough. Samaire felt his fingertips digging into her skin. She wasn't heavy, but he just wasn't delicate.

"What are you --"

Her "put me down," was drowned out by his voice yelling, "Carrying you, bridal-style, so get over it!"

"Okay," Samaire grunted, throwing her arm around his neck. "Carrying me where?"

"The next block, we're calling a cab."

"Then to where?"

"A surprise."

"I trust you," she said and realized he'd began to walk down the road, the streetlamps casting a halo-like glow on his head. "Just don't drop me."

"For that, you know, I'm just going to throw you down in the street."

Samaire blew a raspberry.

&&&

It was fifteen minutes before they reached the city streets, and had argued the whole way concerning his carrying of her. He tried to throw her over his shoulder when she said his nails were digging into her hip. That didn't work, so he put her down half-way there, told her she could walk, he wasn't going to be a gentleman ever again, she had blown that chance.

The lights got brighter, the streetlights in particular became closer together the nearer they became. The moon, for what little it was becoming, eventually disappeared into the sky. In the street, pools of water from the recent rain reflected the city lights, glittering and then distorting when they walked through them.

As soon as they arrived at the city limits, he asked if she wanted another chance. Samaire had laughed and kneed him in the back before she realized his attention was focused on waving down one of the few cabs passing on the street at this hour.

"Okay," said Ashe, "there is an art to this."

"You show some leg?"

"You wave cash."

It worked on the second try. A grey taxi skidded up to the curb and Ashe had jumped back to avoid being hit, almost knocking into Samaire.

The window rolled down and a young man's face swam into view from the dark front seat. His hair was a tangled mess of dreadlocks and a toothy grin was etched on his face.

"Where you guys going?"

"Edge of the city, Luna Place."

The cabbie whistled. "Fancy neighborhood."

"Do we not look the sort?" asked Samaire.

"Do you want me to answer that?" asked the kid, before jerking his thumb to the backseat. "Get in, we should be there in twenty."

"That's a thirty minute drive, man," Ashe replied, raising an eyebrow. Samaire knew they were ignoring her scowl.

"Look, get in or not."

Samaire had no warning before Ashe, with almost supernatural speed, scooped her into his arms and threw her bodily into the backseat, before sliding in himself.

Samaire kicked him as soon as the door closed. "You cannot manhandle me, I'm not one of your friends."

"You're stronger than I am!"

Samaire tried not to kick him again, but it was true. She was the victor in all of their sparring matches, save for one. That one, she had allowed him to win at the last minute, from a keen sense of pity. When she had admitted it later, he snorted and said he knew it, it shouldn't have been that easy. He had frowned after, and whimpered in a wounded voice, "Ow, my pride."

Samaire knew he claimed he didn't do, as he called it, that "macho pride crap." Samaire also knew he was wrong, but sometimes letting people believe things was best for their peace of mind. It was more amusing than anything, really.

He leaned over suddenly and nuzzled her cheek. "Let's not do the domestic violence just yet."

"You're so rough." Samaire whispered in his ear, "That's fine when in bed, but if you keep throwing me around, I keep kicking." Samaire knew this came from some misplaced sense of being romantic, because he looked at her, almost offended, and said, "You try to be a gentleman ..."

"Where are you taking me?"

"Don't change the subject, we're discussing violence."

"No, I'm really interested. I've never been to Luna."

"We're going to see a priest."

"You know a priest?"

"Look at it this way," said Ashe, with a sigh, "Think of the rarest fruit you know."

"... Okay."

"I probably, or at my parents, know someone who grows it."

"I forget about your connections." Samaire watched the city passing in a flash outside the window. She tried not think about how fast they were going. "So we're going to see a priest."

"A priest."

TO BE CONTINUED dun dun dun

I would really really like some feedback if you can :(

aesthetically @ 2010-06-21T20:59:00

2010-06-22T02:00:04Z

ARTIST❙ friending meme

01. Fill out the form.
02. FRIEND PEOPLE!!!
03. Don't wank. This should go without saying.
04. The definition of "art" is varied & tricky. Mostly, within the parameters of this meme, this for people who draw/paint/other methods of forming pictures. Fan art & original accepted.

form

pimp

aesthetically @ 2010-06-15T19:41:00

2010-06-16T00:41:17Z

friends cut.

it was necessary. I apologize for any hurt feelings, and wish you luck.

aesthetically @ 2010-05-05T18:39:00

2010-05-05T23:40:55Z

I'm in bad need of cash. If you didn't see my last post, suffice to say I need $100+ to cough up soon & since my mom is helping me move into my apartment, I can't ask her for help. The rest of my family is broke, I can't work, this is all I know to do. Either that or start selling my stuff :( What stuff I have.

I'm taking $10-$25 speed commissions. $10 for just line art, $15 for cel-shading included. $25 for full-color shading. I'd do extra characters for $2 more.

OFFICIALLY:

01. $10 for an 8x12 300 DPI [that's print-sized] black and white line art of whatever you want. Fan art, OCs, anything but anthro or porn or ... anthroporn. (I can't draw animals :S) And if you don't think I know the fandom, ask. Of course, for OCs, I'm going to need references.
02. $2 for each additional character after the first. Backgrounds aren't going to be an option atm.
03. $15 for color! Example of color below. $25 for full-color shading as well, if you can swing it.

I ONLY ACCEPT PAYPAL. My Paypal address is industrial.age@gmail.com. Please include in your payment your name/LJ name/whatever I can identify you by. PLEASE do not send the payment until I confirm your commission. I'll just reply to your comment, which is screened! This last bit is important.

Some examples of my b&w AND color art ...

Fill this out please

I tried this a few weeks ago to no avail, but I wasn't as mind-numbingly desperate then. If you don't want anything, please PLEASE advertise this post. Please. If you do want something, let me know asap, even if you can't pay right away. I will start doing them Monday, when the semester is over. TY so much.

ALSO please don't reply to this unless it's regarding the commishes? I need to keep the comments straight. PM me any questions!

dw fic amnesty

2010-04-20T00:56:05Z

I was looking through my old Dreamwidth from last summer (oh my God, the memories, nostalgia is suffocating me) & found my fic journal there. I didn't cross-post, to my knowledge, any of these fics to LJ. All else on DW had a mirror here, or was pretty much disposable navel-gazing, but I really liked these drabbles, so I thought I'd give them new life in another place?

First, drabble jam with Jordi

You're a Cad ; The Bird and the Bee

Grimmjow/Ichigo

Grimmjow wasn't the romantic type. Which was okay, because Ichigo wasn't really either. Grimmjow was a down-right asshole and that was okay, because Ichigo could be at times too. Grimmjow was relentless, violent, disgusting, and at times that wasn't okay because Ichigo could be a gentleman if he got it right. If you polished just at the right angle. But to clean and polish Grimmjow was to rub the spots over on the apple again and again with no avail -- some parts were rotten. Ichigo didn't know why he bothered at times because Grimmjow's nature had so much friction against the better parts of his, so much bothersome pointless arguments arose, but the friction also lent itself well to a perfect storm of never possibly being bored. Ichigo couldn't apologize for him, but no one expected him to.

---

Maps ; Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Neil/Tieria

Tonight, it wasn't Neil's face Tieria saw when he closed his eyes. It wasn't even his voice he heard whenever he listened to the drum of his own blood in his ears in the silence, the only light a steady electric glow from a digital clock in the corner. It wasn't because he didn't hear his voice every night, it wasn't because he didn't see his face, it wasn't because every single night when he dreamed there he was, at different points in a possible second life, or just simply holding out his hand, asking for Tieria to join him where ever he had gone. It was because Tieria tried not to see that face and hear that voice when he was alone, and felt like this, whatever this was. If it crept into his mind he would feel his chest restrict and feel those emotions he wondered if he possessed long ago would flood him. Now there was no question. Neil brought out his humanity in a crashing, banging and heart-breaking force. It wasn't because he didn't feel him everywhere, he did. He just tried not to for the sake of breaking his heart open with every thought and laying bare, feeling it in his fingertips even, wondering what he'd see tonight when he slept.

---

Wish I ; Jem

Ichigo/Rukia

It was pretty mushy, wasn't it? It wasn't the type of things you got cards for, not that sort of mushy, really. But all the same it made Ichigo feel silly to admit it to himself. He smiled that evening on the hill, when the air was so warm and soft and everything felt put it to rest. He smiled when she said, I'm staying. And at the time, it didn't start to chip away at him until he saw the doors close on Soul Society and part of him was left there too. He would never say it outright and even if he did say it, it would be sarcastically, or blaming her, but she had changed his life. That didn't come along every week. Did he just simply miss her? It was somehow different from that. It was like asking if he missed part of himself, which was hard to explain, because he'd never left part of himself behind anywhere. He had a feeling if he did, this is what it would feel like. A strange, wistful sort of thing. He knew his other half was doing well, but somehow he wanted himself to be whole again.

---

Unknown; Steadfast

Stein/Marie

To plunge into a relationship with Stein was to give oneself over to something wholly unlike what one has experienced before. Marie had known this and that's why things had not turned out exactly smooth the first go around. But she was just a girl then, wasn't she? He was already himself at that point, which is to say he had already succumbed to his almost entirely narcissistic and terrifying outlook on life. That was what had drawn her in the first time. He was a terribly fascinating man, admittedly. And now, after BJ had been killed, sides of him that she didn't know had emerged. Small, caring gestures that comforted instead of confused, grown from maturity no doubt. To plunge into a relationship would be crazy, she tells herself. So I'll go slowly. Possible by that time, she'll have gotten used to the bumps in the ride.

---

Clark Gable; The Postal Service

Allelujah/Marie

Allelujah had a whole lifetime of living to live. He had considered it many times, that strange way his life had turned out. Passing people on the streets, they knew such different paths to that one moment when their shoulders brushed with his. Normality was only a word. What was normal? Movies and television and ... He never watched movies, never watched television but discovering the pleasures of small things with Marie, he realizes, watching black and white figures move on a screen, what was he missing? He misses nothing as long as she's here, watching a couple romance each other in a way that neither of them are a stranger to, Marie's fingers finding his in the dark. The kiss on screen may be more dramatic but if people only felt half the passion he felt for her, they wouldn't have to seek things from anything but the small things in their own lives.

---

Combat Baby ; Metric

Nnoitra/Tesla

"What are you doing here?" His voice is cold and even with his back turned, he is an imposing figure, towering over the fallen bodies strewn around him. Tesla cowers for a second and wonders if outright asking will get him something worse than waiting for the man to turn, to see that slow half-moon smile cross his face perversely, the last thing he will undoubtedly see before he is cut down.

He thinks, figures it would be best to speak, even if it's to whimper.

Which is what comes out and he bites his lip.

Nnoitra turns, his weapon hoisted high and resting on his shoulder at the same time, how large is its size. "Don't hide." He says it like a fox drawing out a small mouse. But then he smiles, and it's somehow scarier than a grimace. "I can tell you ain't here to fight me, I know that from just standing near you."

The grin lowers. "Don't hide, you aren't worth killing."

This is somehow a comfort.

---

Mushaboom ; Feist

Urahara/Yoruichi

In the spring the sun warms the air and the ground and Yoruichi loves to picnic in the fields surrounding the Seireitei, often bringing along Urahara. This time, it is a celebratory feast of vegetables and breads and other portable items as they stretch out under a tree, the blanket crinkling over the grass.

They say nothing, which is how it's always been between them, a sort of understood comfortable settling. Both of them have understood each other seemingly from the beginning of time and Yoruichi wonders if anything will change this.

*

100 years later and they inhabitants of the Urahara Shoten leave the store for once, for the park, to let the kids see the cherry blossoms. Urahara stands in the doorway and asks if she'd like to come and she accompanies him as a black cat, riding on top of the basket and realizes no matter what form, what world, what time, things never will.

---

Don't Panic ; Coldplay

Nnoitra/Neliel

Hollows are only the ghosts of bad deaths. In rebirth they become the anger, the violence. Neliel doesn't like to think these things, even though most of them don't consider it. She sees herself a warrior but her walls are foundations built of things Aizen-sama has told them and the only difference is she sees over the walls and the ones that break them down. Nnoitra breaks through her walls, fists and weapons raised like doubt. She hates that he brings out the monster in her and that's what he goads her to do. Fight, bloody each other up. He makes her lose the humanity. But she wonders if in some small way, she doesn't bring out the sanity in him, bring out the human-like ways the Arrancar possess. It's something she can only wonder about.

Second, drabble requests.

Gundam 00, gen--

Setsuna had never heard in his much younger days any stress on the individual and its role in society. In the KPSA, they all fought for the glory of God, and were propped under an umbrella that shielded doubt from their minds, an umbrella constructed of fear, guilt. They weren't one, they were one of many in a body that had no free will. What Setsuna thought was thought for him. In Celestial Being, one doesn't act without the others, they are a team moving in unison, with goals as well as machines. Though, Setsuna can walk away at any time. The difference is free will, the difference is doubt is not a sin and the difference is that these are his comrades, not a part of himself. He is Setsuna, whole and different, even though he moves in the same direction, he is himself. One.

Tieria Erde once remarks at a division between their ideas, "Commitment to the mission is above all." He doesn't show any sign of amusement on his face in those days, just closed lips and crossed arms. He opens his mouth again and adds, "There is no 'I' in team." Lockon Stratos puts his arm around Setsuna and jabs at a gloved finger in the air and laughs. "But there is a 'me'!" He says this annoy Tieria good-naturedly, but Setsuna realizes the meaning behind what any of them take for granted: at least there can be disagreement between them.

Setsuna never dreamed about moving amongst the stars or feeling the power in his hands to shape the world. What child, especially a dirty-faced boy with a gun in his hand and his mind made up for him would? But he recalls vividly so many times seeing the Gundam, the closest thing to God he's ever witnessed, hovering in air that afternoon. It becomes like a symbol in his mind of a turn-around, at least internally. This is what can be the future. This is what you can become. No one ever says he can become anything more than what he is, but Setsuna knows as long as he imagines the symbol of change and shape, his Gundam, he is at least free.

Cowboy Bebop, Spike/Julia --

They don't talk for a while after they make love for the first time. Not because words won't come. To Spike, there is a world of words constructed on his tongue and all of them say the same thing, have the same meaning: this was wrong, but I don't regret it. He can feel in Julia's movements next to him, her reluctance to move closer, but their hips touch as they lie next to each other. The silence isn't awkward, just painful and both of them are breathing heavily, so words aren't needed now. Spike takes a close look at her face in profile against the streetlights and closes his eyes, seeing her face distorted behind his eyelids for a second before it fades. He can't imagine what this is the start of, something good, bad, something both at the same time.

Even though he already knew this, since it's a good way to figure out your opponent's next move in a fight and weed out liars, he read years ago that body language speaks louder than words. Things like palms up mean being open, hands together, arms crossed means closed. What does it mean, when he opens his eyes and looks next to him, when she's lying on her back, hands itching to get close to him again?

He knows that's what the gesture means, when she sits up and reaches over for a second. Hand pauses and she uses it to scratch her arm, bed sheets clinging to her breasts.

She opens her mouth but the only word that comes out is his name.

"Yeah," he says, not answering her, not asking. What he says is an agreement to her movements and feelings, which say what he wants to say: this was wrong, what did we do.

Their eyes meet, lit only by the light from the windows and Julia gives him one of those slow, tiny smiles of hers. I don't regret it.

Bleach, LOOOOLOLOL --

Grimmjow looks furtively over his shoulder and adjusts his headphones. If anyone knew what he was doing in the computer room, alone, he wouldn't hear the end of it. In fact, he made expressly sure he'd be alone tonight. No Fraccion, no other Espada, not even Aizen himself would know. Just his secret. He shivers, thinking. It was cold in here, but the trembling came from many sources. Hearing this song again and the fear, the fear that he would be discovered.

"Gee gee gee gee baby ..."

He grins a perverse smile and watches the girls on the screen dance, and imagines, surprisingly, not doing them all one after another, but dancing with them, freeing himself and letting go in the music. His secret passion that can never be realized that even he doesn't understand. It makes no sense. His way is that of destruction and violence. He feels best when blood is under his nails and he's looking down on his beaten opponent. But damn if these bitches aren't cute.

Lost in thought for a second, he closes his eyes and swivels in the chair in time, mouthing the lyrics and doesn't hear the footsteps approaching, the door creaking, or the feeling of another behind him. He thinks of nothing but hip shakes and dare he say it, kawaii lyrics until there is a furtive cough behind him that makes him freeze in horror.

"Hmm," says Ulquiorra, as he looks past a horrified and angry Grimmjow, "your music taste is trash."

Bleach, Nnoitra/Neliel --

The one thing that drove Nnoitra also destroyed him and he didn't stop to think how strange and chaotic that was. One of the forces behind his meaning was also the thing that ate away at him. Her seemingly cold eyes, looks only cast at him. Her power, only exerted over him. Nnoitra thought plenty on that, imagined her face in his mind a dozen times and it was in different ways, writhing under his touch or blood-smeared, depending on how he felt at the moment but the overriding vision was one of her eyes softening, not conceding, but acknowledging. He did not let himself see this much, as it was the expression he'd never extracted from her, by force, by anything.

When the clouds had parted and Neliel had risen again -- that's what she did, she rose from underneath his grasp again -- the look upon her face was determination, anger, everything that had pissed him off about her before and driven him insane about her. What fed him would kill him. That's what it was about Neliel, it was strange passion in every way.

When Nnoitra died, his mind wasn't blissfully blank, wasn't full of rage, wasn't a reaction he could've ever imagined himself having moments before death. He remembered Neliel. She'd long since returned to her old form, but as he fell he caught her eyes again and the look he found there wasn't what he was searching for but it was just as well. A flicker, on the visage of someone who had previously forgotten him, of concern and remembrance and he couldn't even begin to imagine what she thought, if anything, but he could only hope she was mourning for a fellow warrior.

Bleach, gen --

If there was one thing Hirako Shinji prided himself on -- and this was a vanity sort of quality, but what was pride except some part of ego? -- it was his cool. He never said as much as he'd liked on the topic, but cool guys didn't talk about cool. Cool was a state of mind as much as dress and people could scoff, but he knew what it took to have it down. The walk, the attitude, everything. There wasn't one person in this world that had more chill than he possessed and he lived his life by this code. He lived his ultra-hip lifestyle by this belief, that he alone was the supreme mac daddy of the good time and --

"Hey, baldy," said Hiyori, throwing the box of laundry detergent at Shinji, "if you're going to listen to music while you do laundry, at least pick something that doesn't suck."

He glared at her and she sneered back, and instead of grimacing at face and sticking out his tongue, he popped his yellow rubber gloves back on and rolled his eyes. People would never understand.

FINALLY, longer-than-a-drabble Soul Eater fic!

Title: Your Immediate Future
Words: 2240ish
Rating: PG

"I can't offer you proof," said Spirit. He was lying in a manner Stein thought of as "funeral style", on their couch.

His red hair was a rumpled mess underneath him as he crossed his arms against his chest rigidly and his eyes, though closed, look on the verge of tears. They had that funny crinkle and his lip was down-turned. "I can't offer you proof," he repeated. "But I'm taking her word for it."

"You can't panic," said Stein, somewhat disdainfully, "if you're not one hundred percent certain."

"This is preemptive panic," countered Spirit, his eyes snapping open. His fingers dug into his arms and he avoided Stein's gaze, which was relentless and Stein found this unduly amusing and continued to do so, just to make Spirit uncomfortable. "This is the panic before the panic, you know."

"When is the real panic going to set in?" Stein slid onto the arm of the chair and Spirit finally met his gaze, glaring.

"You ask the worst questions."

"If you didn't want me to be curious, you shouldn't have told me. This is something you've done, Senpai. Which I was pretty certain would happen sooner or later," he added as an afterthought. "I'm mainly just curious at your reaction."

"What's wrong with my reaction?" Spirit sat up, tufts of hair akimbo at the back of his head. "This is a perfectly reasonable reaction!" A fist landed on the back of the couch to signify his seriousness, but to Stein it seemed like a child throwing a tantrum. Spirit threw his face into his palms.

"You seem more angry than surprised."

"Of course I'm angry!" Spirit's voice was muffled and Stein sighed.

"Like I said this is something you've done, so who are you angry with?"

"My- I'm angry with h-- dammit, why are you playing psychologist with me?" Lifting his head and blowing his bangs from his face, he muttered, "No psychologists don't play mind games with people."

Even Stein, who lived in his own seemingly self-centered and strange bubble, understood these things. These things being the basic physiology of human beings. Which Spirit apparently didn't at age 16, because his girlfriend (of this fortnight) claimed to be pregnant. Stein only believed this facetiously, Spirit's ignorance. Spirit's first words when he finally got the courage to tell anyone were, in a trembling voice, "I've been so careful." As far as Stein could see, he'd told no one but Stein, believing him to be a safe bet at this point, the point of almost uncertainty. To be honest, Stein really wasn't interested one way or another, but it was fun to confuse Spirit himself.

Who confused very very easily, especially in states like this.

"This will ruin everything!" Spirit cried, thumping the couch again.

"What's everything?"

"My life," said Spirit, being honest with himself for once. "I'm going to take a bath. If I don't come back in an hour, keep waiting."

"What about two hours?"

"I'm probably dead." Spirit frowned, opened his mouth to say something else and then waved his hand. "Don't laugh at me too much behind my back while I'm gone, okay?"

Stein's face was a blank.

*

Three hours later, Stein knocked on the door.

The bathroom light was still on and sound of a small oscillating fan could be heard inside. If he was planning on electrocuting himself with that, he'd waited about an hour past due. Stein knocked again.

"What?" A splashing noise.

"I've made dinner," said Stein. In truth, he'd made himself soup and recipe fed two people. He wasn't sure if Spirit would still be alive at this point, so he didn't plan ahead too much. In truth, he knew Spirit was a coward about that sort of thing. They could bravely become partners, but the thought of Spirit killing himself was so grossly out of character. In any case, Stein stored Spirit's portion in the fridge to eat later if he was dead. More surprising things had happened.

"I don't want any."

"I'm not going to beg you." Stein thought for a moment. "You're still in the tub, right? How is that even comfortable after this long?"

"Go away, you bastard."

It was a simple question, but Stein raised his eyebrows and left anyway.

*

Stein's eyesight was becoming blurred by the light of the small desk lamp. The sun had gone down a bit previously and hunched over his books he wasn't in the market for interrupting himself from studying to turn on the light switch. But his back had begun to hurt and his hand was cramping, so he decided to give himself a break and do so. The rest of Spirit's soup might be tasty at this point too. As soon as his hand had flicked the switch, he heard a low, almost moaning cry.

"Steeeeeeein."

Stein had to pass the bathroom to get to the kitchen or he'd otherwise ignore it. It didn't sound like a pained cry, just an annoyed and needy one.

He opened the door quietly and stuck his head in the hall listening for the call again. Perhaps he could walk quietly --

"Steeeeeeein. Come here."

Spirit probably couldn't hear him over the fan and his own misery ringing in his ears, but he added: "I know you're there, I need you."

Stein shuffled into the hallway and leaned against the bathroom door. "What?"

"I need something to eat."

"I ate your soup." Or was about to, but Spirit didn't need to know that.

"Make me a sandwich then ... please."

Stein opened his mouth to flatly say no, but Spirit said, plainly and almost sadly, "Please, Stein. The door is open. Just a cheese sandwich."

Stein rolled his eyes and walked into the kitchen, not explaining his own actions to himself.

*

"The door is open?"

"Well," said Spirit from inside, "it's not locked."

Stein held the tray against his chest and balanced it with one hand precariously, opening the door with the other.

The sight was interesting. Spirit was sitting in the bathtub of seemingly cold water, in a pair of boxers, books and magazines stacked next to the tub. One of his legs rested on the side and the other on the facet, his hair held back with a tie and a frown on his face, which melted into a smile in the harsh light of the overhead bathroom light when he saw Stein.

"Just ... just leave it on the toilet..." Spirit stared as Stein set down the tray. On it was two cheese sandwiches with mustard and a glass of milk. "You brought me milk?"

"You can't drink bathwater," Stein replied simply. It was true.

"Thanks," said Spirit, with a strange half-smile. A pruny hand snaked out and grabbed a sandwich and as Stein shut the door behind him he could Spirit say, with a mouthful, "Thanks a lot."

*

The next morning was Saturday and Stein's first thoughts upon awaking were simple thoughts, breakfast and then morbid morbid curiosity about what Spirit had done that night. Truthfully, the second thought was needing to use the bathroom badly and he realized Spirit was camping out in the bath in his ridiculous state of depression. Stein would have to see if he'd fallen asleep in the tub. Which could possibly have drowned him. It would be interesting to see how exactly he'd slept in a tub of cold water, but first, important things like breakfast.

Stein rolled his head on his pillow to look at the clock on his nightstand. 9:05 AM. He'd slept in a little later that he'd wished. After bringing Spirit his meal he'd retired back to his room with a warmed-up bowl of Spirit's soup and a book. Sometime around 10:00 PM, Spirit began to sing, almost drunkenly, some song about being depressed and heartache or something stupid. He stopped singing a little while after and Stein had heard nothing further from him. He imagined he might've fallen asleep at this point, Spirit had.

The floor was cold when Stein stood up on it and he stretched, wondering when Spirit was going to be mature and find out something concrete before falling apart as he had. He suspected he'd wallow a bit.

Perhaps it was time to run him out of the bathroom and use it, as it was a bit unfair of Spirit to hog it in his throes of pity.

Stein picked up his empty soup bowl and walked into the dark hall, the only source of sunlight the living room and he knocked on the door of the bathroom. Knocked again. No reply. Stein went to find cereal.

*

After breakfast, washing both of his dishes, Stein was pretty certain he couldn't hold it anymore and he knocked a little hard on the door. "Senpai," he said sternly. "Senpai." He noticed, though, the door wasn't ajar and Stein pushed it open and was presented with an empty bathtub. A bit disgusting, the glass holding the milk empty and floating in the tub with soggy crusts.

Huh, it seemed Spirit had melted. He hadn't heard a door open, so that was his first thought. Fascinating. He'd collect a sample later and put it in the drawer he'd mentally labeled "Senpai", full of notebooks with data on his experiments on Spirit. Interesting and -- But Stein looked down and hadn't noticed this before, but wet footprints, still very fresh led from the tub to the hallway. The only towel that had been left inside was rumpled and thrown on the floor. Stein went inside and used the bathroom -- very very gratefully -- before following the footsteps which had begun to dry.

So he'd made a quiet escape.

The nearer they got to Spirit's room, the fresher and wetter they were until he looked up and there, in the window, in a pair of wet boxers, his tied hair wet and shivering, was Spirit. He was crouched in the open window with his hands on either side to support himself.

"I can't take it Stein!" he said, and closed his eyes dramatically. "I can't take it anymore. I've been going over all the thoughts and bad things all night and ... do you know what this will do? I'm too young! I was so stupid ... I ..."

"So are you going to jump?" Stein leaned against the door frame.

"... Of course I am!" Spirit looked pained at the implication that he wasn't.

"Right now?"

"Yes!" Spirit opened his eyes and knitted his eyebrows. "And that will be the story of me ... Spirit Albarn, aged 16, ruined early on ..."

Stein sighed. "You've got everything to live for," he said, without much conviction, but Spirit stopped shaking his head and looked at Stein, his expression softer.

Stein thought of all the fortune cookie sayings he'd remember. Almost tonelessly, he recited, " 'It doesn't matter. Who is without a flaw?' ' A scholars ink lasts longer than a martyrs blood.' Err ..." He stopped for a moment and realized Spirit was hanging on his every word. " 'A thrilling time is in your immediate future'!" he said excitedly, excited at having successfully remembered another, but Spirit mistook this display of emotion as something entirely different, which Stein didn't mind, because he climbed, somewhat squelchily, out of the window.

"Is everything going to be okay?" Spirit asked, very honestly. He wiped his nose and lowered himself onto the bed. Stein realized he was crying.

"Who knows?" said Stein, but it wasn't said sarcastically. He just stood rigidly in the doorway and frowned. "But you have to get concrete proof before you can fall apart. Then you can."

He was being serious, but Spirit laughed. It was a welcome sound.

*

Spirit had gone out a few minutes after lunch, to rendezvous with what he called "his lady". His face was grim, but determined. Stein wouldn't argue with having to do dishes again if Spirit wouldn't sulk around here anymore. Whatever the outcome, Spirit would perhaps face it differently than falling apart. His determined face had said that plainly and he'd said that plainly himself. "I gotta be a man."

Stein spent the afternoon studying on the couch and around 3, the shadows began to grow longer from the window and his feet felt cold, but the only blanket was in his bedroom. He'd began to get sleepy, sitting there reading right now, but tests were coming up soon and he wondered if Spirit, so wrapped up in his own world had realized. He'd probably cram a few hours before any tests, true to his style. Whatever. Stein set the book on the coffee table amidst many others and walked to the bedroom.

No sooner had he reached the door, than the front door slammed and a triumphant voice cried out, "Stein! STEIN! She got a test done, she got two tests done, it was a false alarm!" Stein soon appeared in the living room, blanket in hand, to see Spirit dancing wildly in the floor. "She's all right! We're all right! Stein, this is amazing, I have my whole life ahead of me."

Stein smiled slightly and before he could open his mouth Spirit danced over and said, "Let's make a steak for dinner! And peas, you love peas! And ... a cake! We're going to bake a cake to celebrate."

Little did Spirit know that Stein's very off-handed prediction, said in times of almost duress, would come true. 'A thrilling time is in your immediate future.'

Spirit had two years.

IDK ?_? Have fun reading. I might like these well enough to pop my "posting fic in public" cherry.

aesthetically @ 2010-04-07T21:25:00

2010-04-08T02:26:18Z

SPRING FRIENDING MEME

▌ The weather turns warmer, all is green & the days are longer. Spring is the time of year where one comes out of their shell imposed by the winter & we begin to live again.
▌ Fill out the form! Pimp! Make friends!
▌ No wank or drama please. Why would you ... it's a friending meme ...

participate

[YR NAME HERE]
a/s/l ❀ AGE/SEX/LOCATION
fandoms ❀ FANDOMS
music ❀ MUSIC
hobbies ❀ HOBBIES
etc? ❀ ANYTHING ELSE HERE

pimp

math is hard, let's shop ?_?

2010-03-09T23:12:21Z

honesty meme
Step 1: Post this into your LJ publicly.
Step 2: Others will reply anonymously about what they really think of you.
Step 3: Cry, because this meme is so brutal, and it hurts.

aesthetically @ 2010-03-01T17:31:00

2010-03-02T01:31:40Z

friends cut

♥ I removed you if we hadn't talked much anymore/you didn't update much/etc. Take care!

there is a lot of demanding in this post.

2010-02-14T07:14:44Z

Oho I am single, how nice. (Enjoy my drawing of Maka and Chrona being all derp instead)

GIVE ME VALENTINRS X-( MAYBE I WON'T CARE SO MUCH IF I HAVE YOUR LOVE. Actually, I don't really care at all about it, being single, I just like anonymous hijinks, amirite?

♥ Create a graphic (200 x 200 max size) to represent your "Valentines Card". It should have your username on it, but otherwise can feature whatever you want. Make it something special preferably to represent love, seeing as it is valentine's.

♥ Make a post with the subject "Love or Lust?". Put your "Card" somewhere in your post, and be sure to re-post these instructions.

♥ Then, go around other people's LJs and reply to them with either "Love" or "Lust". If you reply with "Love", you may just take their "Valentines Card". If you reply with Lust, they'll give you a dare and you must perform the task in order for the other person to give you their Valentines Card. (It's best if the dare surrounds a Valentines theme such as "Make a post telling someone how much you love blahblahblah.." or "draw me this pair" etcetc)

♥ List all your collected cards in your original "Love or Lust?" post to show off your lovely valentines. MY ICON IS AT MY PB PLS NOT HARTLANKY.

short & sweet meme

2010-02-09T02:58:56Z

valentines ♥ friending ♥ meme

Fun meme for the holiday, however you view it! You could always use more friends, right? No wank, and be excellent to each other. And PIMP.

PARTICIPATE

PIMP

aesthetically @ 2010-02-07T16:54:00

2010-02-08T00:54:09Z

finished all my homework FINISHED. FINISHED. I still have my review for math to do before the test, but God, I need someone to go over some of the stuff with me. I need a study buddy. Kathleen? Layne? :D?

I finally finished my Kuroshitsuji mix too! I got the idea before Halloween, picked it back up in December, dropped it and got some idea for it again the other night and finished it. Comments welcome? It's a very eclectic mix and basically, every song reminds me of one character/the series/a pairing in general. I'm not going to separate each song by that, because well, in the end, they all are about Kuroshitsuji.

I drew the art for the cover too.

tracklisting
♕ Grand ; Matt and Kim
♕ L'autre bout du monde ; Emily Loizeau
♕ Time To Go To Sleep ; New Buffalo
♕ Wine Red ; The Hush Sound
♕ Sin in my Heart ; Siouxsie and the Banshees
♕ Alone in the Dark Wood ; Fursaxa
♕ Black-Hearted Love ; PJ Harvey
♕ Sleep Alone ; Bat for Lashes
♕ His Grinning Skull ; Wild Beasts
♕ Incapable of Regret ; Rasputina
♕ Violin Concerto in A Minor RV356 Op.3(6) ; Vivaldi

download @ sendspace

aesthetically @ 2010-01-26T15:47:00

2010-01-26T21:28:14Z

i rarely do these (I have maybe done two.) but. i'm bored.

ANONMEME

time to spill your guts. tell me anything and everything. don't be a dick, but be honest. anon on, ip off. comments screened at will/by request.

aesthetically @ 2009-11-05T19:28:00

2009-11-06T01:45:28Z

What has surprised you the most about me (if anything) since joining my flist/"friending me"? Was anything completely unexpected or have I always fit the picture of me you have in your head?

Anon on/comments screened/curiosity killed the cat.

going to be writing the first draft of my speech for public speaking and need something to come back to when i rage at my inability to form words.

muko, 1991-2009

2009-11-03T22:31:26Z

Rest in peace, Shannon. I love you, I hope you know how much all of us loved you. I'm going to miss you so much. I'm trying to think of anything, anything to say. But I can't form words. You were very loved, you were strong, you were such an amazing person. I'm trying not to hate life right now for taking you away from us, from your family, your loved ones ... I can't think there is any reason, but hopefully there is because I can't think life is that unfair.

aesthetically @ 2009-10-31T18:01:00

2009-10-31T23:07:16Z

MERRY CHRIS- WAIT HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

sob I am ready for it to be Christmas now. I hope everyone is having a good Halloween. it's finally cold again here!!! tomorrow is NaNoMango. I am so ready. tonight we're taking the little turd trick-or-treating. :3 also, for an ~advance Christmas present~ Layne bought me Mario Party for the DS. ;_; I am not worthy of such sisters.

but first, I have the results (?) of my adayinmylife, which I pretty much c&p'd from the post I made there, but the sentiment stands. I want to share it with you guys too.

5:17 am is my wake-up time. Not usually, but I need a lot of time to put on my Halloween make-up ... usually it's around 6:30.

at this point in the morning, I ask myself these questions. why am I in college? what is morning? where is my bed?

obligatory shower scene.

I'm all dressed! I took this picture of my tights because you're not going to get a chance to see them in the pictures from here on out.

now my make-up is done. I am usually a mineral- foundation-eyeliner-and-lip-balm girl, so wearing this much make-up is WEIRD.

my room mate/bff is waking up at this point, so just get online to check my mail. it's about 6:15 at this point. since we leave the dorm in an hour, I'm really thinking I got up too early. So I draw a little.

Cassy's ready!! Stick a fork in her she's done, get it? Cassy likes costumes like this.

I make my bed! sorta

Cassy and I are off to drive to breakfast, lazy hobags. we use her fiance's car, which is not pictured because, and I quote Cassy, "Don't show how messy the car is."

driving to breakfast la la la

food!

off to Seal Hall, the site of classes that occur ...

8:00 am Sociology. not pictured: Dr. Watson bringing us candy and then calling security on someone. Fun times.

pictured: my twin sister (for real) who is dressed as a nun.

I have only 3 classes today, so I have 2 hour in which I have nothing to do, so Layne drives me back to my dorm.

the dorm! so messy, I must clean later.

work on my picture a bit more. it's about 9:35

little more progress.

aaaaaaaaand I finish at ... 10:01. 10:01 ... I have some stuff to do for class, so I talk to allelujah on email and get her to help me D| We must make surveys for our persuasive speeches and I'm literally stuck on 3 questions out of 5.

I get the help I need and print it out around 10:45. s- so many typos, but this is the rough draft and I'm in an uber hurry.

READY TO GO!

it looks like it should be cold right? oh so wrong. but I like these trees they recently planted on the way to the modular buildings.

modular buildings where I haver Public Speaking. and a storm is a'brewing. cute.

listen to music while waiting for class to start.

class lets out really early, so I end up in the business building about 30 minutes before class, but the door is locked. :(

heh.

my id case!

12:00 pm economics.

they're redoing the building so when you look out the windows all you see is plastic. it's really weird.

the raaaaaaaaaaaaaain.

IS IT LUNCH? OH IT'S LUNCH. beef stew and pudding. I finish about half of this because I have 10 minutes to eat. such is the plight of a schedule with no regular lunchtime. luckily, they allow take-out boxes.

more rain.

I like rain, but not when I have to walk in it.

back to messy messy dorm. time to clean.

taking out trash is gross. I thank God for my elevator every day. I snag a paper too.

sparkling clean dorm almost.

since taking off my lashes, I look less Halloween and more like a drag queen. so I change and wash my face. I change with the intention of going to the gym later. but it's raining and windy. :( and the wind keeps turning my umbrella inside out >:(

I found $10 while cleaning up!

1:36 timecheck and

I am so sleepy.

I forgot to open my daily fortune cookie! Roombff Cassy got like a bag full of fortune cookies from the local Chinese resataurant. and she gave most of them to me, so I've been opening one a day. I was told yesterday I was getting a vacation so I don't believe it.

Try to nap. A thrilling time indeed, fortune cookie.

I don't get any sleep because Layne comes by! Which is fine.

she brings chips and salsa :9

and loans me some change for a coke! SWEET REFRESHMENT.

she likes to camp out under my blanket because apparently my dorm room is "cold" ffffff

I decide to draw with pencils.

I finish my drawing ...

It's getting late, we should be heading home.

raining again! gross.

laundry :|

we go by the store for pumpkins. they have none left so~

we get Halloween Oreos.

lady ahead of us in line is in a disco outfit with a 'fro wig.

heading out to the boonies.

Layne and I chat with our grandmother while she fixes dinner.

our fat little spoiled cat Schmee comes in. <3 Schmee is amazing.

Gabe, my 9-year-old brother, and my mom come home! Mother not pictured because she's totally camera-shy >:(

I let brother borrow my camera to take pictures. He's a pretty good little photog.

after hanging with mom and brother for a bit, I'm bored. Grandmother has gone to bed and sister is studying. :-? I don't like TV much, and the only possible thing I want to watch I can't. I hate not having Vh1 Classic :(((

Project Runway is on, though!!

Gabe wants TV, so to appease him I hand it over. I'm still bored, so I go sit out on the porch and listen to my mp3 player. It's cold and I'm in shorts, so I put the cat on my lap for warmth.

time check sigh.

There is literally nothing on tonight, I have nothing to study, and no computer, so my mom takes me back to the dorm. I realize I really need a car.

back on comp talking to allelujah, working on the script for my webcomic and lazily coloring that sketch I did earlier.

get bored of that and decide to doodle around 10. what happened to being sleepy?

finish doodling a bit after that, listen to "My Life" by Billy Joel on repeat about twenty times and finally am exhausted enough to go to sleep.

have a safe ween, guys. ♥

trick or treat?

2009-10-30T01:17:03Z

I am so glad we're doing this before Halloween because I won't have net access on Halloween. ALSO, I LIKE CREATIVE DARES.

trick or treat?

01) Create a graphic (200 x 200 max size) to represent your personal "candy". It should have your username on it, but otherwise can feature whatever you want. Make it something special since it's self-representative.

02) Make a post with the subject "trick or treat?". Put your "candy" somewhere in it, and be sure to repost these instructions.

03) Then, go around other people's LJs and reply to them with either "trick" or "treat". If you reply with "trick", they will give you an LJ dare that you have to perform before taking their candy. If you're too wimpy for that, simply say "treat" and take their candy.

04) List all your collected candies in your original "trick or treat?" post to show off your collection, being sure not to direct-link!

my candy~

aesthetically @ 2009-10-06T11:14:00

2009-10-06T16:28:18Z

anon post

spill your guts. get something off your chest. don't be a dick.

it must be halloween

2009-10-05T20:09:05Z

halloween
friending meme

BOO! This is a bit early, boys and girls, but I never believe in celebrating Halloween too early. I blast spooky music from the beginning of September on. Something about the mood, the feel in the air, the time for good creepy fun ... I love it. This Halloween, meet someone new to share your treats [or tricks!] with.

01. Fill out the meme.
02. NO WANK.
03. Have fun~

form

pimp!

$10 for smiles again

2009-10-04T22:30:41Z

so I tried doing this last June. got a lot of interest, made the post, got a lot of interest still but nothing concrete, ending up doing nothing/making no money. So I guess I thought I'd try it again? I thought it was kind of a deal :"> and once I get finished with my last colored commission I'll start work on these so that's next week!

deal:

01. $10 for an 8x12 300 DPI [that's print-sized] black and white line art of whatever you want. Fan art, OCs, anything but anthro or porn or ... anthroporn. And if you don't think I know the fandom, ask. Of course, for OCs, I'm going to need references.
02. $1 for each additional character after the first. Backgrounds aren't going to be an option atm.
03. I can color it if you want, but that'll cost extra and isn't really the point of this, so! None of it will be toned or shaded so it can be colored.

I ONLY ACCEPT PAYPAL. My paypal address is industrial.age@gmail.com. Please include in your payment your name/LJ name/whatever I can identify you by. PLEASE do not send the payment until I confirm your commission. I'll just reply to your comment, which is screened!

Also, here's the deal and it's not to make anyone feel they have to do this or whatever, but for my sake, if I don't get enough to justify doing the project, I'm probably not? Which is why I want to confirm commishes before I accept payments. Takes longer, but I want to make sure we're all on the same page. It closes on the 11th of this month, one week from now. Make your decision before then, tho, please! :D :D :D

I look forward to working with you guys ... hopefully!

a burning thing

2009-09-25T14:18:57Z

i'll save the personal stuff for another entry.

Starrk developed over time as one of my favorite characters in the series. So chill and unruffled on one hand and on the other he's often used as comic relief with his other half, Lilynette [literally, other half] and ultimately, a tragic character whose existence was built on loneliness and finding somewhere to belong. Some of these tracks are Starrk&Lilynette hybrid tracks, as in songs that remind me of their relationship, some are merely the Primera himself. cover art by me.

In These Arms ; The Swell Season
Naked As We Came ; Iron & Wine
Black Butterfly ; Duke Ellington
Taking People ; Cat Power
Deep Down ; Calexico
Down the Line ; Jose Gonzalez
Lone Wolf ; Eels
Cruel Sun ; Sparklehorse
Fallen Angel ; Elbow
Any Colour You Like; Pink Floyd

download zipped @ sendspace ; if you'd like me to upload an individual track, just ask.