Title: The Fawn
Characters: A baby deer, Ozmund, Jan
Summary: Jan was having a megalomaniacal episode again.

( Note: Contains graphic descriptions of violence, read at your own risk )

Quick Tip #435: Get a Dog

Title: Social Taboos: All In Good Fun; also known as A Page From The Great Carla
Characters: The Great Carla, Dutiful Alex, Moby Dick
Summary: A thinly veiled social commentary on sexual etiquette and whatnot.

 

( Girls Are The Most Perfect Liars )

Gurren Lagann- General- 003. Ends- 013. Yellow
Title: Tell Me later When
Fandom: Gurren Lagann
Characters:Simon, Kamina
Prompt: #003. End
Word Count: 543
Rating: PG
Summary:Kamina and Simon meet one last time before Simon's big fight.

 

( In Which Simon is Faced With a Daunting Task )
Title:Daisy Chain
Fandom: Gurren Lagann
Characters: Simon, Viral
Prompt: #013. Yellow
Word Count: 217
Rating: PG
Summary: Shameless afternoon fluff.

 

( Simon Ponders Making Daisy Chains For Viral's Head )

Title: Bad Little Prince
Characters: Pierrot, Archenbaud
Featuring midnight nude bathing, Dark!Archenbaud and general debauchery of our dear little Prince.

 

( Uh Huh )

 

Title: Summer in Brooklyn Circa 1990
Characters: Marmaroath, Ozmund, Lucca [AU Timeline]
We take a rare look back in time to before Mar was a manic depressive English Lit Professor, before Luke became a pedophile, before Cheska became a Lolita, and before Vallak was angry and gay. Enjoy!

( Go Back to a Better Place in Time )

Title: Very Tight Bodice
Characters: Grey, Vallak
In Which the plot does not thicken, does not even exist. Crossdressing, and slash.

( Pure Shameless Fun )

Why is it that art stirs something so deep within us? I mean, not all art. Sometimes it just sucks.


I mean--well done art. Really powerful stuff. What kind of state of mind must you be in to create something really beautiful? I had just been surprised yet again. I tell myself often that I'm over the whole reading fanfiction thing. Because, you know, most of it really sucks and I need to move on to original stuff.

But then, sometimes I'm surprised. Shocked even.

Fanfiction aside, have you ever seen or read something so powerful that not only do you start to cry, but you ache afterwords? And then there's a feeling left behind, a kind of ephemeral gauze over your heart--a haze in your brain for minutes--hours? Is it just obession? Am I just obsessed with beautiful things?

But not beautiful in a mainstream sort of sense. I mean, real, nitty-gritty beauty. The kind of beauty you see reflected in the half-dead eyes of a fly-infested orphan in the Sudan--or the spectacular grief of someone who is crippled with the loss of the only thing that meant something to them. Or even the first couple of rippling chords in a piece by Debussy, or Rachmaninoff. Ever realize the person you're so in love with isn't beautiful in a broad sense at all--but the sum of all his parts?

That kind of beauty is what inspires me--makes me wish I could capture that and make others feel like that. This beauty instills me with a sort of sadness, though, because I realize the ammount of talent invoved with creating that beauty--and the lack thereof on my part.

But--it's not about me. Not this time.

Have you ever read/seen/heard something so earth-shatteringly beautiful that when you're done sobbing uncontrolably about it--your teeth feel numb and alien in your mouth? Why is it that art affects us like this?Is it the direct relationship--the courting of emotions on a canvas? The short, mercurial love affair of fingers on piano keys?

I'll tell you a secret.

Call me crazy, but once I sobbed all through Rachmaninoff's second piano concerto. All of it.
Call me crazy, but I was this close to visiting his grave in Upstate New York. Just to be as near as possible to the creator of something so immensely touching and powerful.

When I come into contact with something so lovely, I want to speak to the person who created it--but I'm afraid. I'm afraid if I ask them "How?"--it'll ruin it--like some magic trick that always amazes you.

But art is a different kind of magic.
It's the magic of souls connecting on the deepest emontional--and spiritual--level. And it's really amazing.

Sometimes when I see something of immense beauty--I feel like God is looking back at me. Or even life itself. It's scary.

And one day, I hope to make even one person feel even a fraction of what I've felt tonight.

Title: Pierrot Chapter 2
Characters: Pierrot, Claude the Bear, and Archenbaud
Pierrot wallows in self-pity, gets kicked out by a bear, and meets a drunken mad scientist.
 

( Mime Misadventures! )

Title: Schoolgirl Crush
Characters: Girl, teacher, her pencil
Young Teacher, the subject of schoolgirl fantasies...
 

( Nothing So Wrong Ever Felt So Good )

Recently, I took a much needed walk with my good old dog. Now, I hadn't realized what a bad shut-in I was until it dawned upon me that I've never really explored beyond my own community.

Now that's just sad. And my beast wonders why he has such a small kingdom!

So I'm making my way around all these private little communities I didn't even know existed and the weather is warm and just right on my bare shoulders--and I come upon this road I've practically never seen on a nearby intersection. It's a crowded, overdeveloped, loud intersection; and this road just winds up a small slope away from it all--it was just too great to resist.

As I started to walk up this road, the noise behind me melted away and I came upon the wooded hush of the wind running through leaves and birds warbling away. I mean, this road was just the Secret Garden, man.

Not five feet up the street, I come upon this marvelous little ranch house--looking completely out of place with the stone-wall mansions surrounding it. The house was made from dark wood panels and was in an L shape that appeared connected to the far shed--I couldn't be sure. And this house was just eaten up by lush growth from the dense jungle of a garden situated against the house's right angle.

I couldn't tell you why, but I fell  madly in love with the house and it's simply grand garden. I just had to get to the bottom of this.

Next to the house was parked and older-looking car, and a woman bent over the lip of its trunk, busying herself with its contents. I walked up with my dog and called to the woman. I complimented her on her house--and being the magnanimous lady that I could tell she was just from the house--she smiled and thanked me.

This should have been enough, I know--but as I walked away, I knew it couldn't be the end. There was a wriggling worm of an idea in the pit of my stomach. I just had to capture the beauty--even if my silly little camera phone would never do it justice. So again, I approached the woman a second time, and to her amusement, asked her if I could take a picture of her lovely abode.

Again, she gave me a broad smile and then conceded to the picture. "As long as I'm not in it." She quipped with a warm chuckle. I didn't know the woman, but I felt we were kindred, her and I. She, too loved to put herself wholly into her work; and she reminded me a bit of my mother.
After taking my little picture of her house that was eaten by flowers, I went on my way. I won't however, forget the kindness I felt in the house and love I felt from the garden just by looking at it, and I really do regret I could not capture the awe-inspiring beauty she had masterfully created in her yard with her green thumb. 


And now, a picture souvenir:

Title: Healing Process
Characters: Grey, Ozmund [Circa Cloverleaf Continuum]
 

( Snarky Talk And Cripples )

      Title: Of Boy and Girl
Characters: Irish boy, Noncommittal girl
Girl ponders the age old dilemma of dating jerks and committing to suckers.


    

( Real Life Stuff! Not Really! )

Ode To Gamestop Boy

    When you go into Gamestop for whatever your gaming needs--you don't really expect there to be hot nerdy clerks. The reason for this is that there are no hot nerdy clerks. The world's population of hot nerds are probably off in videogaming competitions winning millions of dollars in Korea or picking up chicks at the nearest Suicide Girls convention.
    This is, of course common knowledge that sits in the back of any girl gamer's mind when she takes her monthly trip down to Gamestop.
    However--there is always room to be pleasantly surprised. As my sister and I stood in line poking fun at the latest Castlevania game's character designs (this is commonplace, don't be offended--it's bad for your health.), some lady in back of us kind of rudely pushed us and said in her snotty Gui'talian tone: "Next on line, he just said."
    ...'He just said'. The sad part about living on Staten Island [the Italian Cesspool of the World] is that you are hopelessly stuck in the vicious vernacular circle, and no matter how many times you point out that 'You did well' and not 'You did good'--well let's just say, you're better off heading to The Village. They'll understand you pretentious plight there. That's the reason that gaming stores should be build separate of malls and plazas; because angry, minivan-driving moms make it their pitstop to return the game they didn't realize was rated 'AO'. Whoops. Thusly, they have to wait online with faithful gamers and people like my sister and I. Well, in any order, the lady tells us that we're next in line. I kindly back up onto her foot and then make my way to the nearest available register.
    Now the whole reason we ended up in the god-forsaken mall is to return Ninja Gaiden II--through no fault of its own--I had just received two of them for Christmas. So here I was, walking over blindly to the cashier, placing down the brand-new copy. I looked up at him and was smacked in the face by sheer nerdy beauty.
    Such unworldly geekly good looks should be illegal. Or at least, if you're going into the store, they should have a warning posted by the entrance:

            "WARNING: GOOD LOOKING CLERK ON DUTY. POSSIBLE CHANCE OF CUSTOMER ASSHOLERY. ENTER IF YOU DARE."

    Sweet, beautiful Gamestop Boy, you took me by surprise. Maybe he missed his flight to Korea. Maybe the Suicide Girl convention was canceled due to snow. He had that sweater vest going, with a striped shirt--OH YEAH. And he had those dyed, magenta-but-really-quite red hair color on top of quite adorable curls of Adonis. Oh, and he had a scar that just traced his right eyebrow. Oh boy, you should be called DORIAN GAY.
    I sputtered and gave him my game and he looked at it for a moment before handing it back. "We don't buy brand new games back." He said. My sister and I gave a resounding "Awww..." I took back the game and leaned over the desk real Casanova-like. "You really won't take it back?" I whispered. Unfazed, he shook his head at me.
    It wasn't him; after all, it was me who rolled out of bed looking like Harry Potter that morning.
    "It has to be opened." He offered.
    "Oh..." My sister and I both silently pondered for a moment before I turned back. "I can't just leave the store, open it, and then come back?"
    With a bit of a pitying smile, he shook his head.
    "Oh..." I said again. Then I turned, giving it my last ditch effort: "What if! What if I went upstairs and opened it and then came back?"
    Then, with a laugh he shook his head. "Nah, but if you go upstairs to the game store, they might try."
    I nodded and gave my last heavy sigh and left. "Alright then, thanks." And sadly, I left our Dorian Gay to his own cashier-ly duties.
    When we got out, I led my sister to the nearest trash can and started to unwrap the game's packaging. She looked at me, "That sucks."
    "Yeah I know, " I replied, trying to unstick plastic from my fingers with gusto, "But that guy was HOT."