smiling is fun

stockholm syndrome

Sun, 30 Aug 2009 11:02:38 GMT

I think I've just done the stupidest thing in my life.

-- a few minutes ago --

sent a note to all the other DailyLitDeviations Staff to look over this piece. might as well have said "stroke my ego, feature this and to hell with all the better talent!".

D: argh.

It's here if you want to see it.

Toodles.

and you realize

Tue, 11 Aug 2009 10:18:13 GMT

that Fanfiction.Net may own your heart, but deviantART's already eaten your damn soul.

Crap.

Moving away from depressing news, I'm currently being harrassed by way too many people to count about something I like to call Blue-Green-Red. For those of you who don't know what that is, it's basically the whole ga-ga feeling that girls get when they see guys and the whole HOMGWHOISSHE thing that guys feel every time they see something with more than a pronounced chest.

Anyways, thing is, folks, I'm currently having phone bills scorchingly sky-high because some people love calling my handphone (good grief, I'm not that rich dammit.) and I have to deal with people telling me about their damn love life. Okay, sure, he's amazing -- oh, of course he sucks for treating you like that -- but yeah, he sounds awesome and RAWRGH JUST GO GET A LIFE AND STOP BOTHERING ME ABOUT THIS OKAY?

It's not like I'm the one who has ever been in a relationship before. I mean, gimme a break. I know it hurts when he doesn't look at you, but sometimes, frankly, I don't give that much of a damn. I will talk to you, but sometimes, it's just exhaustingly simple to see what you're supposed to do and if you're gonna drag it out till I waste precious minutes of my call time on your long pauses, I really want to slam my head into the receiver and just die.

Especially when it's 48 minutes. D< That makes me maaaaad.

(also, I've posted, like, five more deviations. or maybe ten. I forget about these things pretty fast.)

what the pen can churn out

Fri, 10 Jul 2009 10:03:19 GMT

shall not be denied by the mind.

--

I've been writing recently. But that's nothing. My life took a downhill since something and someone happened, but I don't think those two events are particularly related. Much.

Anyways, I've gotten down to doing some TsengReno prompt-based fiction. Which I shall post here.

For Myde the Turk, Mad the Badass and Nimorid. Just Nimorid. With love.

a hundred words of not-quite love: part 1 (A-L)

1. From the first time they met, even though Tseng never said it, he never doubted Reno's ability to hold his own in a battle, big Bahamut or no.

2. When Tseng found his first grey hair, he pulled it out himself. When Reno found his first grey hair, well, he got Tseng to pull it out.

3. ShinRa made them inhuman, but Reno was the one who showed him just how animalistic a mako-injected man could be.

4. Sometimes, a scrap of seasons nullified slips through the cracks and leaves would fall. When that happened, he would pick up the reddest one and bring it home because it reminded him of Reno's hair.

5. They were drawing up their life expectancies with their fingers on his apartment roof lazily. They averaged it out to be about 40 years, because neither of them wanted to even think about getting old.

6. Rude picked up his first pair of shades three weeks after Reno got his tattoos. Now they were waiting for 'Laney to hop on the bandwagon and get a piercing or something.

7. You're beautiful, you know? he mumbled, into his red hair. Reno turned over and smile-smirked. You're going soft, you know?

8. The first time they kissed, all he could think of was how their bodies didn't fit together in just that way. Then Tseng leaned down further and he realised cliches weren't for them anyway.

9. When Reno stumbles back from a mission, blood on his hands and another killing tucked away in the recesses of his mind, Tseng is in his apartment, putting a bookmark between pages of a novel and standing up to welcome him.

10. Tseng does his paperwork every night from 7 to 11. Somehow, Reno is always there to free him from his locked-in cage by 8.30.

11. As Turks, they don't have annual vacations much, but Tseng will never forget the time Reno got Elena to make a tent in the middle of the coffee room with him.

12. If Tseng's vice was coffee, his would always be the jittery black-and-white of late-night cartoons.

13. For his 32^nd birthday, Reno managed to wrangle his email from the company directory and sent a hundred chain messages in a flurry of electronic activity. Sifting through the entire thing was only worth finding the last email with My place tonight as the only words written on it.

14. Reno always says it's chance that they met. Tseng thinks it's more of misfortune.

15. There was a clump of clovers next to the path leading up to Reno's flat. The redhead always made it a point to step on them when he came home, because he didn't need good luck most of the time.

16. Reno swears it's always a coincidence, but he knows something is up when he constantly finds his mug filled with decaf in the morning.

17. Their favourite colours are gunmetal blue and Bolt white. It comes with the job.

18. Assassinations have always been straightforward, it's just that Reno's creativity sometimes ends up making everything just that much more complicated.

19. It started as a feeling. Somehow, the fungal growth of affection spread toothicktoofast and they were falling onto crumpled sheets grasping, gasping and giving in completely.

20. It was their destiny not to love. This, he decided, rubbing his thumb lightly on Reno's red tattoos, was not love.

21. It was desire, lust and frustration.

22. Reno never got over the fact that, as the second-in-command, he actually needed to complete his paperwork more than half of the time. Promotion had never been this horrible.

23. Reno took good enough care of the potted plant from an unknown girlfriend from before. But when it came to terrorists demanding environmentally-friendly regimes, he was always the first to brandish his Mag Rod.

24. Tseng has no problems with his self-esteem, especially when Reno is under him and he knows he's the only one that can make the red-haired murderer scramble his words-syllables-letters.

25. The first time, Reno had all the experience but Tseng pulled his position and his gun from the holster at his side.

26. He was all hard lines and angular jawbones, but when his hair was out from his elastic and his crumpled uniform stuck to his skin from running three blocks in the rain, he was endearing enough for Tseng to turn his apartment upside down looking for the spare key to his subordinate's apartment.

27. The photograph was faded, but the meaning was clear. As was the “Happy Anniversary” scrawled at the side, directly underneath the scratched-out title, “ShinRa's Finest: The Turks”.

28. Geraniums were the colour of sunsets and blood. One they'd never seen, and the other they saw far too much.

29. Reno's speed dial consisted of eight food delivery hotlines and one boss-man hotline.

30. If life was compared to a walk along a forest path, it was comforting to know that his choice of “casual partner” could shoot the brains out of any predator along the way.

31. Two cannot be honest lovers without first being friends. It was just as well that they were neither honest nor in love.

32. Sometimes, if he is in a good mood, he will pass by Reno's place on the way home and put a stack of undone paperwork on the dingy porch where it won't get wet if it rains.

33. Him, Laney, Rude and Tseng. They are a group, a quartet, a ring of individuals. One day, maybe, he will admit to himself that they are a family as well.

34. The hundred and twenty-eighth time they kiss, Tseng can only think about how much Reno has grown.

35. Being a Turk is a game of staying alive and hitting your enemy harder than he was hitting you. Being a lover was peanuts compared to that.

36. Tseng is only honest when with the President. Reno is only honest if his hands are twisted in Tseng's hair and his lips trace the soundless words of “more-more-more”.

37. The day Tseng got shot for the first time in 12 years, Reno heaved him onto his lean arms and carried him two miles to the closest hospital to get help.

38. At the war front, it was Angeal's place to speak of honor and Tseng's place to speak of efficiency.

39. When at work, their places were simple; Tseng was the boss. When at home, in bed or otherwise, things weren't as clear-cut.

40. Before he became a Turk, his image of them was a stack of gil. Now, it's a bloodstain.

41. The moment Reno was incapacitated by a bullet to the shoulder, Tseng took the incentive to dig it out and cast a Cure, ignoring the profanities that spilled from his babbling, delirious lips.

42. Innovation was Scarlet's job. Execution was the Turks'.

43. The day Reno found the Internet was the day Tseng left it for good.

44. Something about the way Reno looked when he woke up after a hangover in Tseng's bed gave him a certain, inexplicable joy, even though his arms ached like shit from carrying him all the way back.

45. Reno was a meticulous killer but a careless half-lover. Sometimes, when he's had a few drinks, he wishes Reno could swap roles sometimes.

46. He always said that bullets made the fastest killings, but there was something in the red-black of an EMR-inflicted wound that looked savagely beautiful, even as the target gave a last – pained – jolt and fell still.

47. There was nothing kind about the way that Tseng tugged his bandages around the gaping wound – always so fucking careless on the first mission – or the rough push that sent him sprawling onto the back seat of the sedan – don't bleed on my upholstery – but that, he decides as he thinks back that that was the tipping point.

48. When he comes in, frazzled and exhausted, from a mission gone awry, he sees Reno all over his couch – the pizza box, the hair at one end, the boots-still-on-feet at the other – and he smiles (instead of frowning) and pushes the sleeping Turk onto the floor.

49. One Friday night before the Meteor, when Reno is asleep on his unfinished paperwork, Tseng hears his dream-rambling, Kay, and doesn't know why his Wutaiin takeout won't go down as smoothly anymore.

50. Note to self: Ladybugs camouflage well in Reno's hair. Another note to self: he hates them.

A/N: I thank Coldplay's The Scientist and Green Day's 21 Guns for all the inspiration I ever needed. And Mad for that first TsengReno that just made my life spin out of control.

Sat, 04 Jul 2009 03:23:38 GMT

I need to get this out. Right. Now.

On Tuesday, I'm at my regular Odyssey of the Mind meeting spot with my group discussing our report. We use a corner table outside our school's library, which is usually piled up high with bags and such. We moved them all to another table and sat down. Just to get this straight before the conflict starts: we moved them. We did not throw them.

So lo and behold, we are confronted by a 1.5 m tall (that's about 4.9 ft.) girl who stalks up to us and demands our attention.

"Excuse me, were you the people who threw my bag down?"

We are understandably surprised.

"Did we damage anything?"

She ignores us.

"Did you throw my bag?" (note that she sounded both like she was going to rip off our heads and cry at the same time. Gaping neck wounds aren't healed by any tears I think, even though if she was a Phoenix in disguise, it might work.)

"No..." "Jiao? Did you?" "No, I didn't." "Was anything damaged?"

Then she rolls her eyes and stomps away in a holier-than-thou huff.

We get back to work.

Now, until this point, we merely passed her off as an irritable person who just had a lousy day. But what happened next just made our limited view of her take a tumble for the worst.

She comes back.

"You know why I'm so mad that you threw my bag?"

No lady, please enlighten us. "No..."

"Did we damage anything?" Yes, we reiterated this a kazillion times already, but she was beginning to sound like we were responsible for breaking her Ipod or something.

"Well," she lets out this infinitely sad and whydoesn'ttheworldunderstandme sigh. "You bent my Physics textbook."

We were all floored and silenced. Your. Textbook. Sorry if I'm being cold and apathetic, but what the hell?!

"I don't like my Physics Textbook bent!"

Okay, lady. Just hold on a sec while I call the mental institute and give them the school's address. Just sit tight and bash your head into the table until you knock out and make things easier for the people who will bring you to where you were supposed to be.

"We can...buy you a new one..."

"Well," she says, as if it's the disdainful one-worded answer that's supposed to make us fall to our knees begging for forgiveness.

She waits for five seconds and realises that we aren't about to do that. Then she does this monumentally I'm disappointed with the world eyeroll and stalks away, all righteously mad as if she's taught us a great big lesson on how to be OCD about your Physics Textbook.

I wish I had the guts to flip a finger at her.

life is good

Tue, 30 Jun 2009 14:40:07 GMT

I recently had a revelation that rocked the frickin' world.

Life is good. On some days at least.

Yesterday was fan-frickin'-tastic. First there was the whole talk-with-Miss-Lee thing where I splurted lots of a really overly done cliche plagiarism story in passable linguistic ability, then snarked at good speaking cohesively, then got my Highly Commended for the Crossings Essay :D and then and then and then.

I got full marks for lit.

Then life got the wind that shit was not happening to some people so it bomb'd me today and I went down flat on the floor.

What the hell! I tasted a bit of heaven yesterday and that's enough for me. I thank God for it.

Meme

Sun, 28 Jun 2009 09:20:44 GMT

So I actually went nuts and said "WORDS" to Sai, and actuallyactually thought that she would give me nice words for five-year-olds to nod and say I understand.

Well I was frickin' wrong.

Here we go because in the unwritten rules of memes, once you ask, you can't give them back. Oh dammit.

Sephiroth: The man is a silver-haired, Masamune-wielding God of all things unholy and polluted because one look and you frickin' fall for him. Now the saddest thing is that I started with Crisis Core and that was when he was nice, and lo and behold, I got myself into a fandom where not only was my one-true-beloved first love was not the bloody blond-haired main character, he was the frickin' villain. Sephiroth is a nice enough name for a kickass character who always ends up in one of the top few positions for Hottest Villain of the Year but I will never forgive Squeenix for giving us young whelps the chance to go gaga over him only to realise he was freakin' evil.

He starts out as your General, and before your Yaoi mind start to click into motion (because you weren't polluted then), you decide to write damned Mary Sue fics about him. Wrong move a la n00b. Then when you realise you've just mutilated one of the best developed evil assholes in the history of RPG gaming, and you find out that the best done Sephiroth fics are YAOI. YAOI. What is the world coming to?

He was the reason I got into yaoi, and boy, ~~I wish I hadn't~~ it was the best thing that ever happened to me. ~~(remember, Sai gave me this. YOU EVIL YAOI QUEEN PANDA.)~~

Home: Home for me is a white-wall structure with a roof and nicely done wooden floors. The kitchen is like a sci-fi movie set, white marble and absolutely kickass because everything gleams and blinds you as a good morning when you stumble in for breakfast. Home also means ANTS.

When you have a sister that regularly splurts "ant wisdom"s as her Facebook status, you know something has gone wrong in your household. The worst thing is that, it's frickin logical. She goes on regular campaigns against the ants who practically outnumber my sad amount of family members 50 million to one. My bed crawls with the things. My mum can't cook without having one free hand to smack them into the white tabletop. And when your meme was actually "Home" instead of "What Your Home is Infested With", writing about ants means that your house is going to be under attack from the little buggers in the next five minutes.

Wish me luck.

School: This is the one place that I have absolutely nothing to talk about. It's school. The thing I hate-loath-absolutely-abhor because my teachers act holier-than-thou and my friends are all smarter. than. me. It is an unfair death camp with too much homework and too little holidays. It makes me sick thinking about it.

And the whole thing about getting to know my now-wife from there, and a whole lot of intensely hilarious and highly intellectual people? That only just balances things out so I'll get out of my bed tomorrow morning and go to the damn place.

FFVII: The thing that changed my life. I won't even begin to say how much. I started to write fanfiction seriously because of it. I started to love people that weren't even real. I met a whole generation of salivating-Dissidia-wait-ers from a place named GA because of it. It took my life away and made me one of your average teens stuck behind their computer because they haven't the necessary brain capacity to do anything else during their holidays.

It's a game about a blond-haired twat with an emo problem teaming up with a well-endowed chick who only just scrapes past Mary-Sue because she's actually canon, a black guy with a prosthetic gun hand (which I want, to be perfectly honest), a robot that talks with an accent piloted by a Lynn-proclaimed-hot fifty-year-old nerd with a goatee (that your uncle likes, apparently) and -- deep breath goes here -- a fast-talking airship pilot, a black-haired vampiric twat with a bigger emo problem and a ninja who is kickass.

It makes everyone between 3 and a hundred go fanatically wild about the prospects of beating up bad guys who look exceptionally good looking (refer to word 1). It makes a certain group of unnamed people called fang_rls (censored to protect identity of course) write ~~horrific~~ fanfiction and another group of unnamed people called snar_ers (censored again) go after them for their crimes to humanity.

It is the start-all and end-all of RPG gaming and, frankly, the best thing in the world next to family, friends and a little thing called fanfiction.net.

LUBE: I don't know what that is. And if I did, I wouldn't tell you because that would mean that a certain group of unnamed individuals called G_nesis Aw_rds polluted me so badly over the I_C that I actually can look at that word without my brain going buh-zoink.

BUH-ihateyouzeropunctuation-ZOINK.

oh no.

Sat, 27 Jun 2009 11:49:24 GMT

I think.

I think.

I think that I might just like Cappuccino Truffle a teensy bit more than Macadamia Nut from Haagen Daz.

This. Is. Earth. Shattering. D:

holidays. are fuggin' gone.

Sat, 27 Jun 2009 06:41:14 GMT

dammit.

Anyways, I think I need to force myself to start filing again even though it's such a pain in the ass because putting your worksheets in order is so utterly boring. One day, not today, but one day. I think I need the holidays to end, as messed up as that may be, because I'm sitting here and rotting every freakin' day I don't use my brain.

Not that chatting with the people at GA doesn't constitute working my brain, but mostly I'm just listening. All I need is either Eugene, S.Zix or Hope to come online right about now. I make my wittiest retarded comments with them.

(And no, Eugene. Your shift-y joke was NOT funny. Just because I rape my capslock does not mean I am "shifty". You and your lameness. One day I'll throw your sorry butt out of the window and laugh. That would be a better joke. :D)

Yes. I need to get back to real life. I think I've been floating around in surrealism and fanfiction and GA waaaay too much for comfort. And I need to get off my huge butt and exercise before my BMI shoots above 17. This is depressing. I don't look at my weighing scale much anymore. D:

I managed to rush out my June entry and it's actually half-decent, which is cool considering the amount, or lack thereof, of time I did it within. Also, in the writing segment, I have crapped out another chapter for the ReTi which is actually not a chapter at all, considering the fact that it's just one floating scene in the middle of scraps I don't intend to use.

Listening to Zero Punctuation makes me have typing diarrhoea and major punctuation MIAs. Where's Hope the Punctuation-Policewoman when you need her?

Before I bore you any further, I would also like to say that, horror of horrors, I've written my first f-bomb. I think that's pretty cool, except for the fact that now I seem to want to say it every where. God grant me self-control. :D

Off to Chinese,

Moe

Wed, 24 Jun 2009 15:14:55 GMT

Nyargh, because I'm bored, tired and utterly drained by the bloody drill camp that made me run around Singapore and get cooped up with RUTHANNE. AGAIN. I shall fill this space with a rant, a piece of writing and some major ramblings on Koky's masterpiece.

I love you Koky-smoky. Like ham and bacon and eggs and English muffins crammed onto the same plate. We don't get those often in the ~~dumpy~~ well-developed place I come from. (nyuknyukgrumblegrumble) Everyone, I mean, EVERYONE needs to read Bulletproof Diary once it comes out. You'll be SWEPT off your fuggin' FEET once you're done. You'll be really, really pleased that there are people who make an effort not to suck. You'll be unbelievably heartened that there is a semblance of awesome that's not La-Pen-Mengde in the FFVII fandom.

That's how freakin' wonderful it is.

I love being a beta.

In other news, I've started my entry for the June Fanfiction Challenge, which is almost over, which I need to get to Hope ASAP or ELSE.

D: Be sad with my tardy self.

Cheerios.

musing

Mon, 22 Jun 2009 12:34:17 GMT

Looking at how far I've come from my ARGH-STOP-SWEARING-MY-EARS-BLEED self two years back, I think I can safely say that I am a new and improved version of Moe/Anne/MR, complete with swearing and writing frenzy functions. Beat that assholes.

Anyways, I just posted a new deviation which is quite/kinda/sorta messed up and strange. I'll leave it for three days while I'm at camp and return, [quote Jac] with love and amassed humanity [/quote] and I will improve it. I like this empty-headed conviction of mine these days. It must be fatigue from sleeping at 2 AM every morning because I can't stop talking to the guys at GA. Evil weirdoes them.

3 o'clock death
Go forth, read and burn your eyes out. :D

Dear Lord, I've joined the dark side!

Sun, 21 Jun 2009 15:50:51 GMT

Yep, you heard it.

I have an LJ now. Will start posting some of my better (precious few, them) fics to make sure this stays alive and not stagnant like Daniel's mind.

Hah. You lewzer.

I've got to get Hope to get one of these...

Till next time!

Moe