i know your face like the back of my hand;

331.) oh, the weather outside is delightful

Fri, 25 Dec 2009 06:26:46 GMT

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE! ILU ALL!!

Ill be posting four fics by today or tomorrow (three are gracelessheart's late bday fics which I still haven't posted yet, shame on me) depending on how depressing the Doctor Who episode is. OMFG GUYS SO SCARED FOR THIS!

Anyway, be sure to come by and tell me how your day was, okay? I love you all! <3

327.) so wash away those damp eyes, and tell me when it rains-

Wed, 16 Dec 2009 17:04:23 GMT

first and foremost, i want to thank you all for this. it really meant a lot. lately life has been sucky and stressful and you guys have made it bearable for me. thank you all so much. ILU FLIST <3 <3 <3

anyways, there is absolutely nothing to look forward to for Christmas break except intense sad because of Rice, exams, Doctor Who, and my sisterr. who i love but really don't want her to be here right now, because it will just kill me even more. i feel bad for feeling jealous. i mean, i understand that she got into baylor med. i'm happy. but her being here, always whenever i fail at making my parents happy just really hurts me. and this one hurts a lot, because i've been chasing after this dream- this college for three years, and so has she and it feels like i'm always pale in comparison and losing to her. and what makes it worse is that she's so distant and yet humble. i really hate that. but i still love her. i mean, she's great, and we were never that close, but still, her being here will only remind me of my patheticness and when my parents are happy it'll only remind me all the more of what i can never do and what she can. and oh god, tears are coming to my eyes. this hurts a lot. *sighs*

idk when i'll recover. it'll take time. i don't think i'll ever be able to recuperate. Rice was my dream. MY dream. not my parents. so it really hurts.

anyways, out from the emo and into the today, i'm pretty sure i'm going to fail BC Cal. but that's okay, because i have A's in all my other classes (EVEN ENGLISH OMG YAY) and i really don't care about math anymore. i mean, what the hell does integrals have to do with PRE MED? yeah, i didn't see the connection there either.

.....and that's pretty much all i can think of. oh, and wtf tiger woods, get a life. a real one. and gaga, i love your songs, but you need to go to an asylum. please. for your sake and society's. you can still compose your cracked up awesome songs there, but please, before you end up, idk, destroying singapore or something, please go. also, OWL CITY i love your tunes but your lyrics are crack!tastic and you need to stop dosing on LSD or something. i still kinda like you but since you went all mainstream due to stupid itunes idk if you're cool now. thanks, natasha.

:D :D :D <3 <3 <3 LUV YOU ALL SO MUCH. to celebrate christmas spirit, (ironically, which i kinda loathe) POST THE FOLLOWING AND I SHALL WRITE YOU A FIC OF CHOICE.

1.) pairing
2.) any fruit
3.) christmas present
4.) book title.

me = Rose this time. XD

325.) and then the main character died and the end

Mon, 14 Dec 2009 20:05:27 GMT

OMG.

MY RICE REPLY IS COMING TOMORROW.

PRAY FOR ME FLIST. PRAY FOR ME HARD. I DON'T THINK I'VE BEEN THIS SCARED IN MY LIFE.

*FREAKS OUT*

raindrops aren't so bad when they fall gently

Fri, 04 Dec 2009 15:33:06 GMT

OMFG IT'S SNOWING GUYS.

SNOWING. IN HOUSTON. IN TEXAS. WTF.

EXCUSE WHILE I BAIL SCHOOL TO ENJOY THIS MOMENTOUS ONCE-IN-A-LIFE OCCASION.

Post from mobile portal m.livejournal.com

doctor who fic: wrinkles on their eyelashes (1/2)

Wed, 18 Nov 2009 01:51:25 GMT

doctor who fic: wrinkles on their eyelashes (1/2)
ten/rose
682 words
spoilers for WoM
a/n: i needed this. it’s medicine for the ~~suicidal thoughts~~ sadness WoM gave me.

it’s a chilling sound of death that follows him around. one day he’ll be on Pompeii and the next he’s watching noble humans die on Mars. there never seems to be a day when he’s not lost.

the door creaks and he stands outside, his eyes glazed with shock. his hands are stiff, almost broken as he fumbles for the keys to lock the TARDIS. he can hear his hearts hammering wildly against his chest, because the clock is ticking, even for him.

he was so stupid. the line had been crossed, and all because of his mistakes, his lack of compassion, his lack of understanding. but god, he was so frightened. he tried, he tried and until now, he had broken all those murky feelings of regret and despair. he had swallowed them up and had tossed them into empty space, letting them decay in the blackness that seeped out of the very fringes of time. and he had moved on, never stopping, never taking one moment for those feelings to sink into his brain, his heart, his voice. it was such a great plan- be the coward, be the person who always ran away, as Davros said, who couldn’t stop running because the thing he was running from was himself.

the sweat mingles with the cool breeze as he slowly walks toward sharp buildings of steel and glass, his brown suit billowing gently behind him. as he passes through crowded sidewalks, he spots families laughing, not knowing the little time they have left. a mom winces as a child frantically screams at her, begging for his toy. one man trips over his suit, yelling into his headset and grabbing his suitcase from the floor. moments pass, but he can’t hold them anymore- these slight minutes stirring an incomprehensible wake of destruction that he can’t even fathom, but can feel from the very depths of his bones. it all ends, because he lost, to the greatest enemy he had been trying to avoid.

there’s a darkness, he remembers Rose saying. there’s a darkness in all of our hearts, Doctor. we either accept it and become who we really are, or we die and fade like mist in October. and he had laughed and shrugged her comment off and let her hold his hand, because he didn’t care and he already knew. but she smiled sadly, and slipped her fingers into his and kept silent throughout the rest of the trip back home.

he feels his pulse slow down, and turns a corner, almost running into a mother as he does so. the sunlight glares upon his cold face, and he does not feel any warmth. the twinkles in his eyes are gone, replaced by a dull sadness, an empty void that sucks the whites out of his eyes and deepens the wrinkles around his face. his open mouth echoes a silent cry, or scream that drags itself heavily through the pure air and out into the universe. he cannot speak, let alone hear the footsteps of a blonde girl who runs toward him, her arms outstretched, waiting to tell a story. waiting to hear his voice, to see the starlight in his soul. all the Doctor can hear is the chime of his own doom raging inside his head and god, she’s pulling the trigger and how come he didn’t think, how come how come how come. what ifs don’t mean a single thing.

he opens his eyes, tears leaking out and blurring the vision of everything around him. he falls gently, like dead snow drifting down from the bloodless sky, draining the color of every living being around it. but the girl catches him, lays him down, and slowly kisses his lips. they have the fragrance of loneliness, a taste she only knows and recognizes all too well.

“sorry i’m late” is all she can whisper before they both are engulfed in a flash of tile blue. and on Earth, on the day the Earth ends, a clock ticks. slowly, it moves its minute hand toward the twelve, merciless, uncompromising.

random thing everyone must watch.

Thu, 05 Nov 2009 01:58:29 GMT

Um, the most awesome thing EVER? I think so. Everyone must watch this. It's hilarious. I don't know why I haven't seen it before...

The sequel is here, but the first video link is here:

Animator vs. Animation by *alanbecker on deviant ART

Animator vs. Animation II by *alanbecker on deviant ART

icon post; fringe (21 icons, 3 banners)

Thu, 08 Oct 2009 17:22:29 GMT

OMG FRINGE IS TODAY W#*RUWEOFSDKLFJOWRUI!!!

Edit: I don't know how to put this under a cut w/o messing up the order. So please forgive me if it spans twenty pages on your flist page. :( (can anyone help me with this btw?)

anyways, icons + banner (3 variations)
[21] Icons (Four Variations)
[3] Banners (Variations)

001

002

003

004

005

006

007

008

009

010

011

012

013

014

015

016

017

018

019

020

021

022

023

024

025

026

Created with angelamaria's Icon Table Generator @ Bauble

Banners:

396.) FANDOM EPIC IS EPIC.

Wed, 07 Oct 2009 06:41:44 GMT

THURSDAY NEEDS TO COME RIGHT NOW OR ELSE I'M GONNA EXPLODE.

FRINGE, FUCK YOU AND COME ON ALREADY. ~~or i might have to point a gun at j.j abrams' head.~~

//offtopic: back to grafixing. so expect a batch soon :D

i so three thousand and eight, you so two thousand and late

Fri, 07 Aug 2009 00:27:58 GMT

HIATUS.
(India, Here I Come!)

August 7th- August 29th

I <3 you all. Have a wonderful two weeks while I'm gone :D
I promise to bring pics. Lots of them.

295.) just pick up the phone girl, and tell me your name

Wed, 22 Jul 2009 18:08:28 GMT

friends cut.
09'

i know. i feel really terrible. but i just had to, you know? there was just too much to keep up with. but if you feel differently, and think we are still worth it, then go ahead and friend me/comment, and i'll add you back, promise. it's just...life happens. :D and i still love all of you.

292.) there's a time when we all want to grow up into teens, but it's not now-

Fri, 17 Jul 2009 14:33:15 GMT

wow, i can't believe it.

i'm of wizarding age! now i can kill people with no markings left behind and save muggles and wtf, wow, i'm such a nerd!

OH, HOW I LOVE BEING SEVENTEEN. :D *runs off to eat cupcakes*

BUT I WANT AN IPHONE 3GS, so i'm off to go convince my dad. cause i'm spoiled and wtf, i got FOUR fives on my AP exams. (AP bio/APES/AP English and AP Psych)

<3 <3 <3 you all so much,
Natasha

291.) it's HARRY FUCKING POTTER, guys.

Fri, 17 Jul 2009 00:08:53 GMT

OH MY FUCKING GAWD!!!

HARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY POOOOOOTTTEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!

Time to review guys.

So, 12:01! I feel so devoted. And I even dressed up! As Dumbledore! I thought it was a fitting tribute. Next year I'll be a portrait version of him, and then the last year, I'll be a ghoul version. *laughs*

But it was great. We came at around 6:30 pm, playing Presidents and Twister. There were some people who also dressed up, and one of the best pull offs of a Professor T. yet. I mean, the woman had the big magnifying glasses, the crazy hair, and the dazed look, and even a crystal ball! And then when we got in, and everyone was buzzing with excitement, three people came in and a girl shouted "EVERYONE!":

The theater: ????*silenced*
Girl: *laughs* Okay then! When I say Harry, you say Potter! HARRY!
Us: POTTER!!! *screams*
Girl: HARRY!
Us: POTTER!
Girl: HARRRRYYYY!!
Us; POTTERRRRR!!

So you got the idea. I was soooooo excited. And why shouldn't I have been? BECAUSE I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR NEARLY TWO FUCKING YEARS!

And then, we saw the movie......

Well, was it worth the wait? I still don't know. It certainly did have it's best qualities. The acting dramatically improved- Daniel Radcliffe finally learnt how to act. Rupert Grint was fucking awesome- he's a natural comedian, I swear. And Emma Watson had her moments too. (OMG! SHE WAS LAYING HER HEAD ON HIS SHOULDER SQUEEEEEEE) And more of what I posted on TWOP:

" Well, it was certainly a wait, but worth the wait? I'm still not sure. The fanatic side of me seems to be screaming against everything that I was waiting for- good scenes that sadly never made the cut. However, I think it's clear that from here on out, Yates has made sure that the movie and the book are two, different and completely individual entities that stand out on their own. We know that Yates can't pull off a 652 paged book in two and a half hours. But he could of at least gotten some crucial stuff right. The Half Blood Prince stuff didn't fit in at all, and the whole romantic scene was just repetitive. I did love the emphasis on Dumbledore and Harry's relationship though. The score, direction, acting, and cinematography were all brilliant, but the plot itself was just lagging in terms of the book...but like I said, this is a different movie.

It's of course, good in a way that we see some new, different style however. Daniel finally knows how to act, Rupert brilliantly performed his acts of comedy, and Broadbent and Emma did have their moments too. Alan Rickman was hilarious, and the guy who played Dumbledore (forgot his name) did a great job in the Cave.

The special effects were brilliant (I adored the introduction- very well done!) but all in all, the Half Blood Prince doesn't measure up to a fanatic like me, but does well to serve as a build up for the next two installments in the series (which I'm sure, will be a lot more action packed than this one) and as a romantic, last-time-to-act-like-teens-again movie for the heroes."

Pretty much what I meant. It was the worst adaptation of the book yet, but you could tell that Yates had finally given up of making a scene-by-scene movie of the book. The technique- direction, acting, effects, yadiyadiyah were all superb, and I am so glad that they made that scene of Dumbledore's death so poignant (I was nearly in tears, Dumby-along with McGonagall- is my favorite character, no matter what JKR says) and boy, that teen/kid Riddle was damn scary and sexy.

There's so much more I want to say....but all in all, the romance got boring, and there wasn't enough action. That's of course, because this is a build up movie. Yates said he's gonna make the next two action packed, so might as well have all the gooey moments in here, right? But *sighs* I still can't see how the critics say this was teh BEST one yet...I mean, it was, and it wasn't....it's all so confusing....anyone here in the same tight spot as me?

289.) i wanna move you, i wanna shake you up

Mon, 13 Jul 2009 02:30:59 GMT

i am officially in love with io echo and new york pony club.

you've heard them before, you just don't know it. remember that palm pre commercial? and the song that goes "you got me under my skin"? and then the cube commercial song? yeah. those.

SO GO LISTEN TO THEM. i mean, you can even friend them on facebook for god's sake. XD

also; i am going to be of wizarding age in FIVE days! yahoo!

how is everyone's summer going? i'm sorry that i can't keep up with LJ and a social life in general- i have so much WORK! gah!

but i'm SO EXCITED FOR HBP GUYS. NO, REALLY. 12:01 AM GUYS. who else is going? just want to know. it's kind of a cool feeling when you're sitting in a theater and you're like "hey, my flist is in another theater in another part of the world, at the SAME time, watching the SAME movie!"

EXCEPT.

EXCEPT EXCEPT EXCEPT MY SISTER GETS TO WATCH A PRESCREENED VERSION OF THE MOVIE ON MONDAY. NO FAIR. SO SHE SEES IT BEFORE EVERYONE ELSE. STUPID YALE. *is supremely jealous*

but anyway, hope you guys are having an awesome one. i love you all so very much. <3 <3 <3 you know that, right? LJ is the best thing that's happened to me, no kidding. &hearts &hearts &hearts

GH

PS: i started merlin, and finished it! it's ruddy brilliant! and leverage and royal pains, and burn notice as well. :D and they're good. i thought RP would be sucky, but it's not bad. but still. mm.

285.) the world spins round until my heart falls.

Mon, 01 Jun 2009 14:06:19 GMT

OMG OMG

i really need to stop starting off with that. but NO KIDDING.

so my sister called me up today, and our conversation went something like this:

Sannya: So, how's life?
Me: Good. I mean, we're not doing anything soo....
Sannya: Oh. Well, I just wanted to say....Emma Watson is coming to Yale.
Me: 0_0
Sannya: And I might be her counselor.
Me:.....i hate you.
Sannya: And I was thinking of getting an autograph, but I guess you don't want one now.
Me: NO! WAIT!

BUT YEAH. OMG. NO WAY.

SOMEONE, TELL ME WHY I CAN'T BODYSWITCH YET.

and also, this:

Movie Trailers - Movies Blog

yeah. well, at least the screen isn't bleeding blue on me. and JACOB. MMM. yummy.
and the logo looks pretty. but witchcraft-like. with the whole little crescent and everything. but oh well. which gets me wondering: do they release this in India? i really do wonder. since it's "dark" and all, people would be in a riot. :D

*praying that they don't screw up the only book in the series which was awesome*

holy whatthemotherfuckshit?

Tue, 28 Apr 2009 04:33:37 GMT

um...house was fucking amazing this night?

thank god. i was really, like teenwitch77 said, BORED. and even if they had a pointless buildup killoff, it's all good now cause AMBER IS HERE.

i really, really hope she stays. things could get interesting. and it's not only insomnia after all! it could be a lot worse. but i'm pretty sure the writers will make sure everything is back to normal again....bleh. :(

but right now im incoherent so brb, my flist. <3

280.) there are no words to explain this (again), yo

Sun, 05 Apr 2009 18:42:05 GMT

OMG. GUYS. OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST SEASON TWO AKA MANGA REMAKE IS OUTTT.

HOLY SHIT.

i think i'm off to go gaze at the amazingness of this idea and Mustang and Ed.

*dies of excitement*

P.S: for all of you who posted on my last entry, thank you. your words of kindness really uplifted my mood. sorry for being so bitchy at times. life just sucks randomly, you know? so thanks. I love you all <3

original blob!: the days of the week (0/1)

Fri, 20 Mar 2009 23:22:34 GMT

original blob! the days tick away underneath my withering soul: PROLOGUE

pg-13;

i’m not sure if i should be saying this.

it starts off with Monday. Mondays are terrible. they suck up dreams of having a good girl’s night out, eat up moments where you wish you weren’t on that idiotic diet, gobble up signs of happiness and “hey, it’s nearly the end of the week.” in other words, Mondays suck.

but i am walking on Monday in the corridor and i see him. he is new. he is tall. he is brown. he has a short nose and stubby fingers. his hair gleams in the synthetic light, little white worms that slither off that silky hair. he folds up his blue shirt, and then turns toward me.

that’s when i fall. i stumble into depravity and uncertainity. my mind begins to unravel and goddammit i can see him and he is staring at my face and god, i just want to get out of here but i am on the floor coughing coughing get his fucking face out of my head-

that is only Monday. it is the beginning of the week. today, is july the twelfth. when i am gone, swallowed whole by this new figure, it will be Friday.

this is my story. or my memoir. look at it either way, unbalanced, inside out, upside down, faded, clean, dirty, crooked, rough, whatever you can fucking call it. it’s all the same. words are words. they bleed into your head and never let go of those nerve endings.

a story. fitted for an end.

275.) she said i should go get some lovetarts;

Sun, 15 Feb 2009 04:49:33 GMT

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY YOOOOOO.

woo. so let's all give hearts and love!

YOU ALL ARE OFFFICIALLY LUVD BY THE AWESOME GEISHA OF LOVESEX.

272.) i hear your lips and taste your sighs;

Wed, 04 Feb 2009 01:28:32 GMT

okay, so i'm cheating. hahah. but i couldn't help it.

this just totally MADE MY DAY.

LOS ANGELES, Calif. -- Stephen King's opinion may drive a stake through the heart of "Twilight" author, Stephenie Meyer.
According to Stephen, "Both Rowling and Meyer, they're speaking directly to young people... The real difference is that Jo Rowling is a terrific writer and Stephenie Meyer can't write worth a darn. She's not very good."

While Stephen may not be a fan of Stephenie's writing, he understands the appeal of the series.

"People are attracted by the stories, by the pace and in the case of Stephenie Meyer, it's very clear that she's writing to a whole generation of girls and opening up kind of a safe joining of love and sex in those books. It's exciting and it's thrilling and it's not particularly threatening because it's not overtly sexual."

He further explains, "A lot of the physical side of it is conveyed in things like the vampire will touch her forearm or run a hand over skin, and she just flushes all hot and cold. And for girls, that's a shorthand for all the feelings that they're not ready to deal with yet."

http://omg.yahoo.com/news/stephen-king-on-twilight-author-stephenie-meyer-can-t-write-worth-a-darn/18406?nc

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH. In your face, Stephenie. Just to show how much you suck. Yeah.....

okay, i'm off. but next time will be confession time, i promise.

271.) hey hey hey! guess who's back, yo. :D

Fri, 30 Jan 2009 01:06:16 GMT

UWAHHHHH. I'M BACK. FOR GOOD!

*GLOMPS FLIST*

I MISSED YOU ALL. SO. DAMN. MUCH.

anyway. sorry. i'm just tearful with this reunion. it's been like...FOUR WEEKS and no LJ. i don't know how i survived. it must have been the cookies. (thanks so much Anu! you saved my life in more ways than you can imagine!) anyways....

THANK YOU!!! For your love and support!
(what can i say. there surely must be a forgiving god up there somewhere.)

hopefully, i'll be posting what happened in my hellish life during my SAT break soon. get ready for angst! torture! pain! crying! having a sore ass for FOUR hours! yeah.....:D

and i'm getting a tablet. so i'm going to doing a LOT more art. *does a little dance*

270.) are we human? or are we dancing?

Sat, 10 Jan 2009 02:09:43 GMT

sooo...i got a mangarevolution account and look what i drew! :D

haha. i know. so tv nerdy of me. :D

and omg, i've fallen in love with kuroshitsuji. amazing manga/anime. :D watch it. it's hilarious in it's own dark way. (is it me or is there totally a ship of sebastian/ciel??)

anyway, i'm going to be on a hiatus this couple of weeks as exams (midterms) and my SAT/ACT's are coming up....as of now, i really have no life. sadly. :( but i swear i'll try and pop in a couple of times to check on everything and see how you guys are holding up so far on 2009.

will come back soon! :D pray that i get a good score;
~Sno.

*this entry name fits the icon unexpectedly, no?

bones!fic: the unwinding spiral around our broken spines;

Mon, 29 Dec 2008 20:28:28 GMT

my new year's present to you:

bones!fic: the unwinding spiral around our broken spines;

boothe/bones;

1,876 words;

pg;

post!season 3;

wishing you all a happy new year!

she watches the flakes fall down softly from the sky, waiting for each one to melt into a puddle of water. it’s fascinating, how an irregular drops of water could turn into a geometrical beauty. nature’s power was reminiscent evermore as the snow continues to pile silently, but with a moving power, to the barren ground below.

sighing, she lets her mind waver to the bones lying on the table. it was only yesterday when she was telling him that there was a story inlaid, engraved into each fragment. and how when they all were assembled together, made a perfect tale. a tale of happiness. of deceit. of sorrow and passion. they all seem to weave into one immortal being.

“here- you asked for hot chocolate, right? the guy added more sugar than usual.”

she turns around and brushes the snow from the opened window casually. he’s wrapped up in two layers of sodden coat littered with white dust. a blue scarf snakes its way around his mouth and covers the thin line that she imagines would be his mouth. his eyes are wary; tired but strangely alive beneath the murky surface.

a hasty “thanks” comes out awkwardly of her mouth, as she closes her fingers around the warm cup, and he shrugs- he’s used to it by now.

“you have to analyze that by tomorrow, right?” he asks, pointing to the unorganized bones.

she nods. “part of the scientific history department. they seemed to have found a load of Chinese immigrants’ bones in the nineteenth century. i thought-“

he waves the rest of the words aside. “don’t talk about that right now. i’m trying to have a peaceful moment here.”

she pauses, then gives a silent agreement, watching him stare out the window. the flakes are now shrouded with a thin mist. the day seemed to have gone so quickly. moments would here and there take hours to realize. how he had waved her team goodbye. how she had clumsily tripped over the stool and how he had grabbed her by the shoulder and his nose was merely two inches away from her face-

she shivers, but not from the cold.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

the apartment is much more cozier than she had expected. she rolls off her jacket, and hangs it in the closet before turning the shower on. the silent patter of the warm raindrops unnerves her, and she lets out a shaky sigh before undressing.

as she steps in, she tries remembering when she and him had first met. it was only about fifteen years ago when she had first stepped into the laboratory she now was well accustomed to. he was yelling at an assistant, she remembers, rubbing the soap vigorously down her skin. something about not getting the data right- then again, he was never good with the details. he had then turned, almost instinctively, toward her- and then he smiled. she never forgot that part. the shaking of the hands, the formal yet somewhat stiff and surprising greetings, and his hand wrapping around her slim waist- she didn’t forget that part. the rest of the memory is unclear, vague- almost shrouded in the same cold mist that was outside, but she doesn’t forget that smile, the shiny teeth that peeked behind his chapped lips that cold, winter morning.

there are times though, when she doubts her own memory. rational thought has it’s own tiny miseries, that only become visible when everything else fades to dust. forgetting one’s own identity, losing control over emotion’s guidance; she had maintained herself over these trivial matters, but somehow, they never seemed to disappear. on the contrary, the only seemed to strengthen when he gave her that flecked grin as they solved another case and the husky voice of a hello when his arms were around his son. twinges of fate had strung themselves around her neck and made it almost impossible for her to breathe during those moments. she couldn’t find out why. maybe her own eyes were shrouded in doubt from the truth. and for that, she had to hate herself- for being so-

she steps out of the shower and peers into the misty mirror. a menacing pair of intelligent, yet analyzing eyes stare back at her, thirsting for knowledge. she remembers Amanda telling her once- you should get out more. date guys a little more like Boothe, you know? take some time to explore the world in a more aesthetic way.

the rap rap rap of his knuckles banging against the door doesn’t surprise her as she puts on her pajamas. gracefully striding around her dinner table, she opens the door and-

“i brought Chinese takeout food,” he grins, and steps into her room informally. she can’t help but suppress a smile; he just had to bring some kind of distraction every time.

“i’m glad,” she replies, taking off his coat for him. “i was starting to wonder when you were going to come.”

her hands curl around his rigid shoulders as she attempts to take off the second black jacket. to her uttermost surprise, they slide almost on their own, to his hands as they both attempt to wring off the soaked blue scarf from his neck. it takes a few seconds, but they manage to untwine it from the rest of the loaded clothes he’s wearing and put them also on the wrack. underneath all the comfortable clothing, she notices, is a simple thin shirt that’s plastered to his muscular body. as he twists and turns downward to untie his boots, she notices the visible ripples. there was one thing that never changed.

“why the hell is it so warm in here?” is his first question as he plops down on her sofa.

“i’m not sure- i think i might have accidentally let the heater stay on when i left in the morning.” she pulls two beers from the fridge and sits down next to him.

he shakes his head sadly. “you really were busy today.”

“i had three bones to identify, and one murder to solve. of course i was busy.” her reasoning sounds petulant, almost whiny, but she ignores it and goes on. “the weather didn’t help at all either. the snowstorm made me get stuck in traffic twice, each one about an hour and a half long. you can’t blame me-“

he begins to laugh and she stares, confused. what was so funny? she didn’t get him. she never got it. there would be times were they were in a serious situation, and then he’d just start making jokes and passing it off as if it were all some kind of humorous play they were enacting, and it just made her so mad-

“i’m not laughing at you,” he smirks, realizing her unappreciative stare. “i’m laughing at myself for realizing that the whole week’s been tough on you, and i myself, for one thing, haven’t made it better.” his breath tastes of alcohol, but she doesn’t mind. it’s one thing that she’s managed to get used to whenever he came here. time at home was for relaxation. it was a proven point within every household.

his hand curls around his, and she takes another sip of her drink. strangely enough, it was comforting. the warmth is unmistakable. how many times had they done this? she remembers when she had first cried in front of him. he never bothered holding her, hugging her, playing teases and punches at her- it was all amusement.

she doesn’t know what to think anymore. her mind’s blank, befuddled by some magic spark that’s been withheld for sometime now. it’s as if her body knows what’s happening next, and is preparing for it. she watches herself, almost as if in a lucid dream, as her hand rises toward his jawbone. it’s not real anymore.

“i guess it’s just the stress,” she whispers, as his hands cup her cheek. he pulls in forward, grabbing her waist (in such a way that it looks like he’s been doing it for a long time) and stares back into her eyes. it seems so natural, every moment balanced and fluid.

it’s not real anymore. she’s sure of it now. but there are no restraints, no moments of doubt in her mind. the haze is gone now. it all came up to this moment, didn’t it?

“i don’t think this is rational” is all that comes out of her mouth before his lips press on hers.

it’s a smooth kiss at first. there are no hesitations, no disturbances. soon though, she begins to feel herself untwine, unhinge, as he leans in and dips his tongue back and forth. it’s a warm sensation, unlike anything she’s ever had before. different, but the same. however, he begins to hold the reins more securely as their lips dance back and forth, back and forth on this night she wishes would end soon. it’s not a bad feeling. she just doesn’t want the lines to be broken.

“should we be doing this?” she manages to gasp out as they break apart, panting. he pulls back his hair and takes another sip of his beer. he doesn’t answer. he never does.

the silence is awkward, but when she looks up at his eyes that stare back at her with a clear conscience, it’s clear they haven’t broken any unmistakable boundaries. it was just that-

it breaks away, that thought, and she begins to laugh with him, because they know that soon, tomorrow will be another day and this will all be forgotten. it’s just passing time. amusement. a game they desperately try to cower in. an illusion. so she arches backward as his finger traces her collarbone, his lips dabbing away at the edges of base of her neck.

“let’s just forget about morals here, okay?” he whispers into her ear, and she nods understandingly. this night will never happen again. it’s a wise decision, pushing the thoughts into the back of your skull. never letting the events resurface again, just letting them lie at the bottom, sinking and slowly decaying there for another lifetime or so before they finally turn into sand. the bones of her memories are still there, but does she really want to add another one? especially when the fragrance of it was so sweet and tender?

it’s only a couple of minutes later that she sees that he’s noticed her stiffness in the duality. sighing, he leans backward, his body pressing into the cushion of the sofa.

“it’s late,” he says, a bit lamely. she only can shake her head up and down, because at the moment, she’s dumb. she can’t speak, let alone think. the silence and the haze has built up in her head and she doesn’t know what to say.

“you’ll be okay, right?” he pulls his jacket from the rack as he gets up and throws the empty bottle into the trash. “you won’t comatose, promise?"

she smirks (it’s the only thing she can do, she can ever do). “i…..don’t...think so,” she says at last, breaking the awkward silence. “it was only one bottle.”

he smiles as he finishes tying his boots, and then stops himself. his hand is curled around the knob on the door at last. “happy new years…Bones.”

with a flash of black, he’s gone.

fin.

267.) i'm not loving you the way i'm wanting to.

Fri, 26 Dec 2008 01:00:51 GMT

so i watched the prestige and i thought it was fucking amazing. i mean, really. i loved how every single thing was important and contributed to the full circle end. beautiful and mind warping. loved all the the themes.

so a very merry christmas to y'all! hope you have such a great day! i'm off to partay with my indian desi crowd lol, but hey! I love you all! thanks so much for listening in on me. that really is awesome of you guys. i love you with all of my heart and soul. even though i've been such a crappy friend lately, you guys have still come to help me out. that means so much to me. so really, thanks. i LOVE you all. you truly are, the best flist eva.

:D
~Sno

orig!fic: tinkerbell's fragance;

Wed, 17 Dec 2008 10:24:16 GMT

original!fic: tinkerbell's fragrance;

pg-13 for mentions of rape;

1,468 words;

this was actually a dream. i know. very scary, lol. XD

monday: she doesn’t see him for some time, her skirt flinging from one side to another.

“i’ll be back,” he says, wagging his finger toward her- “i’ll be back soon, before you know it!”

she watches his shows on television with only an aching heart longing to actually feel him. the world watches him with eyes feasting on admiration and beauty. he’s a new wonder, the news reporters say. he’s going to be the figure of the new century, a real star. he thinks it’s funny, how he’s famous and all. she thinks it’s just annoying. but the days pass by, weary and slow. she talks through electronic messages, voice cameras, and cell phones. the days grow long, as so does the distance. she finds herself walking frantically at night, suspecting, wondering- is he out there? can he hear her too? can they reach each other?

did i reach you?

tuesday: she ties the apron hastily around her lean back. fumbling for the strings, she looks back at the twenty year old woman staring at her. her blue eyes are slanted, worry fringed underneath the edges of the irises. her hair- long, black and silky, yet rolled back into a bun, allows her slender neck to be exposed. how easy it would be if someone were to come right now and strangle her. she was a fragile thing, he constantly says. be careful and be safe. don’t let the bed bugs bite!

he dedicates a song for her the next day on the public radio. she tears up, listening to the lyrics, until she’s lying on the faded couch with a box of Kleenex at her side. the tune laps back and forth in her head, ebbing and then coming into circle with full force. she cries and cries until her eyes are bent and her body is angled, facing the daybreak of October. the clock ticks constantly, to the beat of her heart as she weaves her hands of stone around the tune, humming it occasionally as she continues to weep. the silence is profound, yet unnerving. she does not find solace in it. only solitude. but the silence cannot overcome her patience- she will be patient, and win against time. waiting for him to come back and smile that geeky smile of his, and embrace-

the clock continues to tick onward.

wednesday: life presents new wonders to her, in the form of bleached wisdom wrapped with the red lace of forgetfulness. she pauses, trying to remember where she kept the keys. inside, he is snoring loudly, his guitar still strapped bandolier-styled around his body. they had the small talk yesterday:

“how was the road trip?” her hands move circularly around the plate, like they’re performing some kind of dance on an elegant ice rink. round and round, and they flip to the other side before swerving in balanced directions again. the tune still lies in their movements, but there are no tears to weep for today.

“fine- Joseph’s wife gave birth to a little boy yesterday. guess what he named it? the damn little thing? ESPN. can you believe it?” he roars with laughter, before sipping the almost empty glass of wine. it swishes to the tune as well, but does not spill red blood on the carpet. it does not stain yet.

“that sounds terrible.”

“it was hell” is all he says before he places his glass in the sink, and then waves goodbye and goodnight as he stumbles toward his bedroom. they’re separate now. it’s more like a guest room, adorned with his prizes and banners, and rock posters. some flash angrily across the bleak, off white walls, pasted messily with profanity and other with enthusiastic optimism. “LONG LIVE AMERICA” says one, and the others are covered with t-shirts, tickets, cups, plushies so that a visitor wouldn’t be discouraged. splotches of black and pink are splattered across the ceiling as his favorite album is displayed. she doesn’t know these lengthening boundaries. a line that’s stretched and twisted, creating discord. she can’t find it anymore. it’s like an equator now- distinguishable, but invisible nevertheless. she can feel him pushing her out of the door, giving her the cold shoulder .but she will wait, wait for him to understand. make a treaty. a request.

as she walks past the room, she notices a picture of him and her together, embraced. the photo is old- perhaps, at the most, fifteen years old now. she usually doesn’t take notice of it, but today however-

the photo is crooked, a red stain spreading from the corners.

thursday: she finds a pretty picture of a girl in his faded jeans when tumbling through the load of laundry. there is no scream, or sigh even; she just glances down at the nameless teenager. she’s very beautiful, with green eyes and blonde hair- her features are carved nicely. a smile creeps up her mouth, but with subtle humor. it’s a twisted grimace, or a gleeful smile. the eyebrows are parted and her nose is soft, round, healthy. the girl was innocent, for sure, perhaps eighteen or nineteen. a delicate little thing. as she struggles for words to say, nothing but a whisper- a silent, “oh” of realization falls out of her mouth. the strain seems to go, and she wonders if she finally waved the white flag.

she places the photo carefully back into the jeans, and scrambles to the kitchen. the tea is almost ready. he’ll be here soon, and she does not want him to get angry. she will wait peacefully for him, for her angel. maybe they can sort it out. her white gown billows gently behind her as she prances through the hallway and gracefully lands in the tiny room of pots and pans. her ribbon, untied and fallen to the floor, is not picked up. she does not dare pick it up. the red ribbon, which he had given to her so many years before, tied around her neck.

now it was all lost.

friday: she never expected him to be so drunk. she sees his eyes swivel on her body, as he eagerly grasps her arm, his snarls threatening.

“you saw, didn’t you? i bet-“ his hands frantically tear at her clothes, and she tries to pull away. when did he ever get so strong? she remembers, laughing when he said he’d become a ninja to protect her. to keep her smiling.

did i reach you?

“i bet you had fun, planning all of this for me, you fucking bitch. did you really think-“ his hands clasp around her delicate throat as she struggles to breath. pinning her to the wall, he lets her hair fall down, down, down to her wobbly knees. the time keeps tapping it’s minutes and seconds. ticking away, like nothing ever happened. like nothing will ever happen. a silent limbo, she drifts away, as he plays with her. it’s not like before. his hands are stained as he doesn’t bother to make bruises here and there. he does not play gently.

“-that I cared?”

but she does not moan, or scream. she only stares back into those blue, clear eyes. part of her seems to slowly degrade into an old fashion jewelry box, a memoir she lost the key to and cannot open anymore. she wades deep in this sea of painted nightmares and memories. they are all so vivid. she wants to cry at the beautiful horror she finds inside herself. for trusting him. for loving him. did it matter anymore?

he’s almost done now, and she waits. she waits for the angel to come and cry for her to come back, to be a part of this everlasting fragrance. weave me in and weave me out. she wants to be a thread of an entire existence, not a shard littered in the dust of time. but time does not wait for her. it does not give her solace, nor does it give her the strength to fight back. so she waits, patiently. there is no scream as he leaves her. she is broken, utterly destroyed to the point where she is sure that she will break into atoms, and fly into the midnight air of purity.

it’s morning when the police find her. she looks up at them and smiles, as they stare back in shock. faces of horror. she does not care. she only waits for the angel to come. to go back into the dirty pile of laundry and remember that crooked picture. a hand comes in her dim sight; sighing, she allows herself to be carried, away, far away from humanity and from chances. she’s a patient girl. time will cease to be merciless, but she won’t need it. she has-

did i reach for you?

fin.

orig!fic: watch me in my schizophrenia;

Thu, 11 Dec 2008 07:29:07 GMT

original fic: watch me in my schizophrenia;

1,085 words
pg

there was this one kid, she remembers hurriedly. this one kid who kept asking her-

“what was it like to be human?” human. hmph. funny word- she’s sure that they left it out of the centennial dictionary

she pauses, trying to remember. to remember the day where everything and everyone faded away, lost in memories. it started with the nuclear bomb, didn’t it now? the object that obliterated everything, even their past selves. they had no one to go to but the government, who took them in like they were lost dogs. soon everyone was implanted, with the chip. the thing that made them far above human. even more. she wasn’t sure if it was myth or fact, though. it seemed like so long ago. lost, lost, all faded into dust. wet rain and misty dew clouded her thoughts. water strands. they all held so delicately along that balance, and if it tore, then she’ll-

she had never answered him, that kid.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

she gets reassigned to the ten year olds. her job is to inject them with a special morphine while they play along with their dolls, and then go to sleep. permanent sleep. it’s a busy job.

as the third girl gets injected, she turns and looks at her with her wide, blue eyes. “are you going to leave too?” she asks softly, before her lids droop. “are you going to leave me behind?”

“don’t be stupid.” she laughs, brushing the girl’s hair softly, and straightens the soft crumples waving across her dress. “i’m still here.”

“are you? you were, then.” saliva foams at the corner of her mouth, and then she falls limp, just like the others, like butterflies dropping into the colorful lawn of leaves after being sprayed with insecticide. these pure, delicate little creatures, incapable of ever taking flight, soaring through the blue skies. jeweled beauties, but so fragmented and tainted with an innocence that could not be tolerated by the authorities above that they had to be eliminated at all costs. she sighs and looks back at the body before her. the girl’s hair is wet now, as she sprinkles the holy water over her frail body before putting her into the incarnation oven. to burn to ashes.

eventually, everything goes that way.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

she

can you hear us? the sounds of the earth, crying. our hands are twisted with the mentions of your voice. our bodies are frail little things, and we cannot move. we cannot speak. we can only moan in discordant tunes, insignificant screams that dare create earthquakes. can you hear? can you hear the itching buzz of the silent air? the molecules race quickly in your head, and the thoughts pile up and up until you feel

like you’re going to burst. the angry voice telling you “no” when you really want to say “yes”. can you see the tears roll o-

ff the waxy leaves of the oak trees? their branches groan in pain and agony. they have not been tended well from the mother soil of fe-

rtility for a long time. your

technology poisons us, slowly, like chloroform. it’s tentacles spread and coil around our hearts, and we cannot breathe now. our voices are peeling off layer by layer until you’ll hear the raw caws of insensibility. there isn’t any more

time

left-

her breathing slowly calms down, as she feels the sweat breathe off of her skin. slowly, the pulse begins to go down. it was the trees. they had been whispering to her in her sleep again.

she remembers fully now. the trees, as a last resort, had given her back the memory, and the water strands were now broken. neurons had taken their place- strong bonds of subtle anger, cords of steel. the nuclear bomb. the explosion. the screams when the government chained them with words and taunting contracts, binding names and control into one tiny device in your brain. you had to follow. either that or-

-the children

she scrambles off to the infirmary, her gown billowing silently behind her.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

they have guns. guns and germs. their eyes are never shown, even now.

she holds the young ones’ arms, and slowly backs away. “you’re killing all of us,” she says quietly. “it’s time to stop.”

what is she thinking? before, just only five hours ago, she didn’t care. these tiny lives in her hands right now, breathing slowly, to the tune of life’s pulse, they were insignificant just a while back. what happened? where did it all just come back? the feelings, the true smiles, the photographs, the blood that peeked around her skin when she took the implant out-

she glances down at her wrist again, just to make sure. there are still speckles of red dotted there. splashed against the warm and pale skin she wears in solitude. a marker from the rest of the blended crowd.

“m’am, you need to come with us.” their voices are monotonous, calm, yet cold. she shivers from the words’ contacts as they individually pierce the layers of her heart. one by one, they stick in, creating a jagged hole. she can’t breathe.

but the children- they are brave. they shake their heads firmly and tug at the hem of her skirt. “we are not afraid,” they say. “we understand the sacrifices that will be made. yet all the same, we are not afraid.”

yet all the same she does not want to do what has to be done. she knows that one day she will look back on it and say it was done for the best, but she does not want to pull the gun from behind and pull the trigger at the men. she does not want to be killed.

but she does it anyway.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

they called her crazy. they say she took the kids and threw them out, out into the empty space. nobody wants to go back to earth, because it's lonely. but all the same, as they carry her to the oven, they feel a rise coming. a tidal wave, that sweeps their insides and makes them squirm. tears come unbidden, streaming from their eyes (or was it the heat? they wouldn't remember anyways). as they watch her burn, they also see something that rises from the ashes. they do not know what to call it. but if they had looked, and if they had searched the centennial dictionary, perhaps they would have found-

hope: to feel that something desired may happen:

fin.

</style>