Jindal needs to be taught the facts of life. Also, remember remember.

Also, he needs to SHUT UP BECAUSE I'M TRYING TO WRITE A NOVEL HERE, but mostly he needs to be taught the facts of life.

Word count: 13779

Two things happened today. Well, more than two things, I suppose.
First of all, it was the fifth. As is fitting I wore black. Yuck. Remember remember, the fifth of November... did you know we the L fans adopted that? Yes, I am fairly certain that we did.
It was the first day of the new quarter. I am now in R.G.'s English class! Also in Elements and Principles of Design. Gah. Can we get to the DRAWING bit already? This is boring!
ALSO WHITE THINGS FELL FROM THE SKY. NOT VERY MANY WHITE THINGS, BUT DEFINITELY WHITE THINGS. It is only the fifth of November. T_____T Why should snow fall from the sky now?
Finally, Jindal and his Twili history are preying on my mind. Jindal revealed to me yesterday that he is very fond of Dawdon. Very fond. In fact he's saying that Dawdon is his beloved. This is a problem; Dawdon is male. Jindal is male. Midna is supposed to be Jindal's greatgreatgreatgreat etc granddaughter.
SOMETHING IS WRONG HERE.
Several times I have told Jindal that in order for this all to work out, he has to express interest in someone who HAS A WOMB. *shakes head wearily* Look, I know that Dawdon is dear to you, but... this just doesn't work, darling.
Anyway, here's what I have so far, continuing from an earlier entry, I think... Twilight Princess spoilers, of course.
--

Consciousness came back to me slowly. You… have never felt being a spirit, correct? We all did that day. It was like being only half-there, like having pieces of your soul break off and disintegrate. I was unwilling to move, even when I had regained full consciousness, and instead I stayed lying where I was. I, the prince of my people. I didn’t yet know I would soon be their ruler, but still, I could have been stronger.

I did not get up until a man came running up to me.

I had seen him before. He was one of the strongest warriors of our tribe, and father had commended him once or twice.

“Prince,” he said to me, looking anxiously into my face, “there is something I must show you. Come with me.”

He offered me his hand to help me up, and I stared at it for a moment. Pathetically, I did not want to get up. I just wanted to lie around until I felt better, and if I never felt better then I was fine with staying where I was until I died.

But he said “Prince, please,” and grasped my arm, half-forcing me to stand. So I went with him.

Around me, things looked strange. The light seemed… uncertain of itself, if that makes any sense at all. It seemed dirty, hazy. The sky was a strange color. When I looked around, it seemed that the land we stood on was an island, floating in… nothingness.

All in all, it made me feel sick to my stomach.

The man led me down a narrow stretch of land; and after we had walked for a few moments, I saw my mother and father. It could only be them, but there was no way for me to actually recognize them. Their bodies had been burnt—charred black in punishment for setting foot into the Sacred Realm. They no longer looked human. I fell to my knees in front of them as tears began to pour from my eyes. I tried to shut my eyes to keep the tears in—but then the warrior gasped. “Prince!”

I opened my eyes again, and through my tears I watched as my parents began to emit a strange, white-greenish glow and floated several feet off the ground. I watched in confusion and horror. The light emanating from their bodies grew brighter, brighter, too bright; I looked away. Then suddenly there was a rushing noise, and I looked back to my mother and father—but they were gone, and in their places floated two orbs of light.

Curiously, the light from these orbs refreshed and strengthened me.

By now you have figured out, of course, that these were the Sols, our version of the sun, which give energy to the world we now call Twilight. Very few of my people know of the origin of the Sols. It would be best that you did not tell my Princess.

The Sols, these orbs of light that had only moments before been my parents, floated higher and higher until they shed light on all of us.

“My king…” said the warrior, still next to me. His voice sounded stronger than it had before.

I pretended—or maybe it really didn’t even register, I don’t remember—not to know that he was talking to me; I looked towards the orb that had been my father.

“My king,” he said again, touching my shoulder. I shook my head.

“He’s your king,” I said, pointing. “I am the prince.”

“No, Jindal, you are king now,” he said, his voice softer on my name as if he feared I would be offended by his using it. “You are our king now.”

“My father—” I began, but I knew it was useless. The Sols shone and strengthened me. I swallowed the rest of my sentence. “I will rule, but I will always be the prince,” I said. “We must never forget what happened to my parents.”

And we never have, of course. My Princess said as much. The shame and horror and pain that result from rising against the goddesses are burned into every Twili soul. If a Twili were to think of defying the goddesses—it would be an anomaly in itself, but the Twili would be terrified of the idea. It’s part of who we are.

But I get ahead of myself again. I had no way of understanding any of that on the first day, or even at any time during my natural lifespan. Not until the goddesses infused me with the light of the moon, the sun’s inconsistent, muted cousin, could I step back from what I felt well enough to understand what had happened to us.

Back then, I tried to act kingly. “Warrior,” I addressed the man who had brought me to my parents, “you have shown great strength in bringing me here; I am impressed. What is your name?”

“Dawdon, my prince,” he replied with a bow.

“You show the potential to serve our tribe very well. Will you lead my royal guard?”

“I will, my prince.” He looked so noble and proud.

“Dawdon…” I whispered, my kingly attitude suddenly evaporating. “Will you support me?”

He knew I was not referring to my political ideas or my rule. I meant like a crutch. I was asking if he would hold me up, and he knew it.

“I will, my prince,” he said kindly, and he offered me his hand so I could stand.

So... I think I shall finally submit that Kino fic.

Aheh.
Also, I'm reading that Piper story I started to write a long time ago. Other than a few things (for example, this sentence: "He dug into his steak with extreme vigor, perhaps imagining that it was rat-flesh he was tearing."--what, is he going to eat rats?), it's rather nice. And it's like reading something that someone else wrote... I don't remember this at all. Ahaha. I never really wrote much of it... Dang, how was I going to end it? I wish I could remember.
Anyway, I have jibun no um (titled it back when I didn't know the word monogatari, ha) open because I had forgotten about the story I'd written based on Andersen's Little Match Girl. Like, completely forgot that I'd written it at all. So let's see if it's any good at all.
After I finish submitting the Kino fic, that is.
(I'm quite proud of the Kino fic. I mean, it's morbid, but it... I like it. I think it fits well with the series.)
(Gah, why did I kill Koshakk? That was so mean of me!)
(That was the point, you silly girl.)

Ahh, that's better. I even ranted about the move of Land of Adults. That's always fun, ranting about translation/editing things I don't agree with. I can always end my rant with, "And that's why I need to hurry up!"
*mutters something about February*

Oh, squee, I did like this story. I suppose it's a bit saccharine, but... I always loved the Match Girl. Squee.
Anou... mitai no darou ka. >> <<
--

The Organ-Player

A scrawny waif wandered the streets on that cold New Year’s Eve. She was dressed in thin rags, and she had no home. She was trying desperately to find a place to sleep that night. But her search was almost hopeless; everything had been touched with snow, which was quickly turning into slush as a cold, steady rain fell.

She knew that she had to find somewhere warm to sleep, or at least to stay briefly. Even a few minutes would do her well and keep her hands and face from freezing completely. At that moment, the desire for warmth was even stronger than her constant hunger, for earlier that day she had found a table scrap that some wealthy family had thrown out. It had been the leanest part of a roast goose, unseasoned, already filthy in the streets, but even so it had tasted heavenly to the poor girl. Though it hadn’t satiated the girl, it had served to lessen and divert her attention from her hunger.

The cold, however, could not be countered so easily. The girl’s thin gown had been completely soaked through and her long brown hair was plastered to her doleful face. Every exposed inch of her skin was either chaffed red or quickly turning blue. She shivered constantly, and every now and then she would give an intense shudder as a gust of wind blew and dashed cold raindrops against her face.

Through the streets she kept walking, one foot in front of the other with a trance-like motion. Something told her that if she kept moving, she would stay warm. But oh, how she longed to find an iron stove somewhere and lie down and curl up in front of it and let the waves of heat roll over her! She tried to imagine such a stove, as if imagination alone could bring the precious heat to her.

In the distance, there was the faint song of an organ. Some holy song was being played, and it struck the girl as familiar. It was not so long since she had attended the church daily; but now that her parents were gone, she was ashamed to be seen in her one ragged dress while all the other ladies dressed so finely and beautifully.

However, today the girl was so desperately cold that she found herself moving towards the organ song anyway, haltingly. She passed several houses on the way, glancing enviously into the warm yellow windows. Just a few more steps, she told herself, and she too would be in a warm place.

Finally she reached the great, heavy door of the church. It took all her strength to pull it open, and the metal handle bit her hands with cold. She stepped in and smiled at the satisfying warmth, letting the door swing shut behind her. The only other person there was the organ-player, who had her back to the girl.

The drenched girl began to move forward, towards the sanctuary. The warmth of the church was tangible; she could feel it rubbing against her skin comfortingly, like a cat. But she still shivered. Muddy water dripped from her hair and clothes. She was silent as she went; for a moment she entertained the notion of speaking to the organ-player, but something held her back. Instead, she knelt down in one of the aisles—not in the pews, for then she would get them wet and filthy, which would be disrespectful to God and his worshippers.

The organ’s song was beautiful. It reminded the girl of the days when she had come often to church, with her parents. And after the service, they’d leave the church all bundled up in thick, warm clothes and rush home to a hot, filling meal. Ah, to be that warm and full and happy again! How bitterly she wished that those days had never ended.

Back then, she would not have knelt on the ground near the back of the sanctuary; she would have sat in one of the front pews, kept warm between her two parents. And there would have been many more people. Now there were only the shivering girl and the organ-player and God.

Silently, the girl clasped her hands and bowed her head, as she had been taught, and silently she prayed to God. She prayed first for her parents—she always prayed first for them, for their souls and their happiness. Usually that prayer was followed by one for her own safety, for food and warmth, but today, in the presence of God and in his grand house, such a prayer seemed selfish. So instead, piously, she prayed for the souls of the others on the street as she shivered.

She did not notice when the organ’s song ended, nor did she hear the soft, padding footsteps of the organ-player as she approached. The shivering girl only looked up when she had finished her prayer; and then she stared at the organ-player without speaking.

The organ-player was no older than her, and had golden hair that framed her pale, pretty face in curls. Her clothes, like the girl’s, were thin, and she wore no shoes. She looked at the girl solemnly for a moment; then she quietly said, “Welcome to the house of God.” Her voice was sweet and warm, like cream. She knelt next to the girl and continued, “You’re very cold and hungry, aren’t you?”

The girl nodded slightly, hands still clasped in her lap. It seemed almost blasphemous to address the organ-player, the one who had provided such holy music, but the girl couldn’t keep from adding, “I’m mostly cold. It’s so cold outside.”

The organ-player gave a small smile that lit up her face. “I may be able to help that,” she told the girl. She reached into her apron and brought out a handful of matches.

The girl brought the corners of her mouth up in an appreciative smile, but shook her head inwardly. It would take many, many small matches to warm her shaking body. A handful would never suffice.

But, her smile now a little more mysterious, the organ-player struck a match against the polished wooden floor of the church. For a moment, it sputtered; then it burned clear and bright—and so warm!

Somehow the warmth from the small match surrounded the girl’s whole body, settling around her shoulders and head like a heavy blanket. Amazed, the girl reached out for the match. The organ-player gave it to her readily, and the poor girl held it up, studying it. How could one small match warm her so completely? It seemed a gift from God!

The match went out. The blanket of warmth disappeared immediately, but the girl found that she was not as cold as before. She opened her mouth to ask the organ-player about the matches. Before she could do so, though, the organ-player struck another match.

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?” she asked, holding the new match out before the girl. “This one will help.”

The girl again looked to study the match, but—behold! As she looked into the flame, she fancied that she saw inside it a long, fine table with a great banquet spread out upon it! The girl’s eyes were as wide as saucers as she took in everything on the table, and her stomach growled conspicuously as she took a deep breath and smelt the food. There were five loaves of bread, two whole roast geese, and more fruits and candies than she could count. Steam still rose from the bread and the geese.

The girl stared at the glorious vision in disbelief, salivating. It all looked so delicious, the perfect New Year’s feast, just as she used to eat with her family. But it was no more than a vision, the starving girl told herself unwillingly; it would not satisfy her.

The organ-player lit another match with the flame of the current one, which was close to dying. The vision inside the flame stayed. “Eat,” the organ-player encouraged softly. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“But it’s just a vision,” protested the sad little girl, nevertheless still entranced by the grand banquet.

“Perhaps it is, perhaps it isn’t,” the organ-player answered mysteriously. “But if you eat, at least you will be happy in that vision, will you not?”

Such simple logic was all that the girl needed to convince her; she ran forward to the table and immediately began reaching for food. She briefly noted the odd fact that the food had substance under her fingers, but quickly became more interested with the substance it had in her mouth. How wonderful it was to take such large bites and feel those bites slide down her throat, filling her stomach! The girl couldn’t even remember the last time a meal had satisfied her so well. And the taste—the taste! The goose was perfectly roasted, the bread just slightly sweet. It was like a meal from heaven.

As the girl ate, the organ-player kept lighting matches, perpetuating the vision. She waited patiently for the girl to finish. Finally, the child wiped her mouth with a cloth napkin and smiled. The organ-player let the last match die, and as the flame sputtered the feast faded from view.

It was cold and dark in the church, but now the girl did not notice. She stared at the organ-player for a long time as rain lashed against the stained glass windows. Finally, the girl whispered, “What was that?” The vision was gone, but her stomach was still full. She could still taste the sauce from the goose.

The organ-player smiled. “It was a gift for you.” She stood, brushing ashes off her apron. “I have to go home now. Grandmother might worry.”

She left the church. The girl stayed. She curled up on the floor of the church to sleep and dreamt about the organ-player girl and her matches.

So-far soundtrack to Hieronymus Bisby:

Hieronymus Bisby: It’s a Holiday Tomorrow (?), Rustle
Yeah, Right:
*Calli: You Mean, During the Break?
Miranda: Supper of the Old Days (?)
Miranda’s Irritation: Hello, Kitty Girl
A Heroic Quest: Brave Willing & TP Medly
Crazy School: Of All Circumstances, Hang On
Penguin Stampede: Miss Yukari Goes Wild 1&2
Once More, With (Sky) Pirates!: Naval Affair
Meeting the Author: Pone, Refrain of Memory, Family Portrait (lain)
Reaction to a Dare: …Well, It’s a Tightrope,
>>Also used for discovering what WallofIllusion writes
Class Discussion: What Are You Talking About?
Jindal (if they meet him): Misty, Strange Dimension

Mostly Azumanga Daioh and Last Exile stuff, with a few others. I need to go through the Azu again to find out which one will work for "Yeah, Right" (I have the tune in mind, but I don't remember what it's called), and Calli's theme is uncertain. She's the one I'm having the most trouble with... I sort of want to make it some indie-pop song, but lyrics would distract me, and unless they're exactly fitted to her personality, it'll just be impossible. So at the moment she gets one of the upbeat break themes.
...Yeah, it really doesn't fit. *headdesk* Back to the... listening board? A DJ Tsar song, perhaps... and I want to be high-pitched and fairly bouncy... No, I know most of those already! Maybe something J-pop-ish? *walks off muttering*
I do rather like "Hello, Kitty Girl" for "Miranda's Irritation."

EDIT: Okay, I've got a more solid list now.

Hieronymus Bisby: Of All Circumstances
Yeah, Right: Somehow
Calliope: Forest Cake
Miranda: 期待
Miranda’s Indignation: Hello, Kitty Girl
A Heroic Quest: Brave Willing & TP Medly
Crazy School: Hang On
Penguin Stampede: Miss Yukari Goes Wild 1&2
Once More, With (Sky) Pirates!: Naval Affair
Meeting the Author: Pone, Refrain of Memory, Family Portrait (lain)
Reaction to a Dare: …Well, It’s a Tightrope,
>Also used for discovering what WallofIllusion writes
Class Discussion: What Are You Talking About?
Jindal (if they meet him): Misty, Strange Dimension

What else I did today: I started writing a history of the Twili from the perspective of Jindal, as told to Anachron. I guess you wouldn't mind seeing that, huh? ("You" tte dare nan da yo.) I'll type it up at the end of the entry, spoilers as usual...
We also went and got passports today. That was long... and after that we went shopping. First at TJ Maxx--I got knit armwarmers with removable gloves. How much does that ROCK? Oh, and I got a shirt. Then Barnes&Noble, where I got Reborn 5. Ranking Futa for the win! You know, this author really can create lovely characters. And then off to Kohl's, where I got several long-sleeved shirts. Stocking up for the winter.

And then I came home and did ^that. :3
Okay, so the Twili history dealio. The spoilers start here.
...Oh, and by the way, I don't own the Legend of Zelda franchise. I don't think I've been disclaiming anything in here. Sorry for misleading you.
~
We were not kind people.
You know enough to know that, right? We tried to take over the world. But even before we tried to force our way into the Sacred Realm, we were warlike, ruthless. Little better than a tribe of wandering raiders.
For example: I learned to use a knife when I was three and was a master by the time I was five. It wasn't an uncommon thing. Everyone in the tribe could fight.
And then there was the magic.
You've seen our destructive magic--utilized it. My Princess has remembered it, though generation upon generation has forgotten. I don't know how she remembered it... I can't know. There are things I can't do despite the divinity I've been granted. Semi-divinity, I suppose. But I'll get to that later.
Do you understand? All of us, even the children, made our living by killing and stealing. We were cruel, immoral. And power-hungry, as you know.
I became the prince of the tribe. Became. I wasn't born into the role, just as my father wasn't born into the role of king. Father took that position when I was six--murdered the former king of our tribe. And Mother and I helped finish off the royal family.
...You are disgusted. Would it calm you at all to know that I am, too? What my parents and I did was despicable. A few thousand years in the light of the Sols has ground that knowledge into my mind.
But I said am, not was--I was not disgustedwith my actions at the time. I was... vicious. Energized.
You look rather ill; shall we move on?
I apologize. The history of my tribe is not pleasant.
My father--we--did not exterminate the previous royalty without... reason. He had an idea for our tribe to gain more power--yes. It was my father who came up with the plan to break into the Sacred Realm. The previous ruler wouldn't allow it--but don't assume it was out of wisdom that he refused. He was unambitious, yes, but obsessed with his own power. Miserly--despicable.
But then, my father was despicable as well, and I.
We're pathetic people.
As for how we [intended to get? got? I forget] into the Sacred Realm, I can't really tell you. I don't remember--the goddesses made sure to wipe that particular memory from our minds, along with our ambition and cruelty. In their mercy.
All I know is that it involved combining* our power in support of Mother and Father, who were the ones to actually trespass in the Secred Realm.
And of course you know the outcome of that attempt.
I do remember some things--most thoroughly, pain. That has always bothered me the most. I don't remember what it felt like to be as focused as I was, but occasionally, back when I could still sleep, I would remember in dreams the pain of that focus being broken. It was like a knife going through my forehead. The pain drove everyone to unconsciouness.
~
*This turned into a nanoism when I was handwriting it: combing, rather than combining.
Please note that when Jindal refers to things as "my," he's not really being loving/respectful like Gen saying "My Queen." Think more along the lines of Gollum's myyyy preciousssssssss.

Legend of Zelda: Blood-Red Sun

I caught a Hylian loach to-day. And I... worked on a fanfiction which involves... well... to put it very simply... [/Hyrule]. o_O Aheheheh. -_-; It will have no Twilight Princess spoilers! yet. But after the end I'll put a spoiler explaining how this awful sadistic idea came about. If I remember.

I also beat Ganondorf again, for the fun of distracting him via fishing rod.
Anyway, as soon as my computer finds it, I'll paste it into a Notepad doc because to get rid of all the formatting, and then into here.
Here, I found it. Oh, dang, that took out the enters. -sigh-
--
The sun rose red over Hyrule.
The land was in the grip of a great drought. For almost five months, not a single drop of rain had fallen. Few crops had even managed to break the soil this year; there would be no harvest to speak of. And now, as summer drew to its high point with no sign of any cooling rain, people suffered from the searing heat of the red sun.
The sun had been an eerie red ever since the beginning of the drought.
In the small village of Kolha, a young man of about seventeen was on his way to sword training. He had blond hair and eyes the color of the deep sea. On the back of his left hand, there was a strange birthmark, three dark triangles that made a larger triangle.
“Good morning, Jolan,” he said as he saw his trainer.
Jolan smiled back. “Good morning, Link,” he said. “’Fraid I’m going to have to cut practice a little short today, if that’s all right. The mayor was wondering if you could go down and fetch some more water from the spring. The village is running low again.”
“Sure.”
“Sorry. I know it’s hardly fun to spend your day going back and forth from the spring with buckets that are full of water half the time.”
“It’s all right,” Link answered, waving away his trainer’s apology. “Everyone’s doing their part to help the village through the drought. Hauling water is how I help out.”
Jolan gave a laugh. “All right, if you say so. Then for today, I just want to make sure you remember everything I’ve taught you, and then I’ll send you on your way.”
So Link picked up a wooden practice sword, demonstrated the basic sword techniques Jolan had taught him, and sparred for a bit. Finally Jolan nodded in approval. “Nice work,” he said. “You know everything I can teach you. Now, before you—”
“Wait,” Link interrupted. “There’s something I want to show you. Stand back.”
Jolan obligingly took a few steps backwards.
“I’ve been working on this attack for a few months now,” Link told him. “I must have read about it at some point or something, because when I thought about it, it seemed like the idea had always been in my head. But anyway…”
He held out his sword behind him, took a deep breath, and then spun in a quick, controlled circle.
The grass at his feet was suddenly shorter.
“Wow,” Jolan said.
“I call it the spin attack,” Link explained. “The force of the spin gives more strength to the attack, and it also covers all fronts.” He grinned. “It is also, as you see, very nice for cutting grass.”
“So I see,” Jolan agreed. “It’s a great attack, Link. If I’d had any doubts before, you would have just assuaged them.”
“Doubts? About what?”
“About giving you this.” Jolan reached into his bag and brought out a sword and scabbard. “This is for you, Link. Use it well.”
Link took the sword and drew it. “Thank you, Jolan,” he said, touched.“You’re very welcome,” Jolan replied. “And here’s my advice: take it with you when you go to get the water. The drought may be bleeding us dry, but it doesn’t seem to bother monsters and strange creatures at all. They’re more plentiful than ever, and the path to the spring could get dangerous.”
Link nodded, thanked Jolan once again, and then set off for the spring with a pole over his shoulders and two buckets hanging off of it.
Despite Jolan's grave warning, Link found himself walking with an unusual spring in his step. His pride that Jolan had given him the sword completely overpowered any worry he might have felt over the man's advice.
But that changed very quickly when a screech ripped through the air.
Suddenly Link was surrounded by monsters. Misshapen humanoids swarmed towards him from the bushes, swinging crude clubs. He heard wingbeats behind him and turned to see a gigantic vulture swooping down on him. The vulture opened its beak and began to screech again--but Link dropped the buckets, whipped out his new sword, and sliced the creature's neck. It fell to the ground, and Link turned back to the humanoids.
"Damn!" he swore under his breath, his heart pounding. There were so many of them--too many. It quickly became clear that beating them individually wasn't going to get him anywhere. He'd have to use the yet un-tested spin attack.
He held his blade out, focused, let the monsters draw closer. And then he released the attack.
The monsters fell dead at his feet.
Link sheathed the sword and waited for his heart-rate to slow back to normal. He gave a slow sigh of relief.
Then, just as he shouldered the buckets again, he heard hoofbeats. A white horse came into view, ridden by a person in a long gray cloak and a masquerade mask with a cloth over his or her hair, so that only his or her mouth was visible. The horse stopped in front of Link.
"Is your name Link?" the rider asked. It was a female voice.
"Yeah," Link answered, bewildered.
The mouth curved slightly in a smile. "I've been searching for you," she said. "I need to speak with you. Hyrule is in grave danger."
~
So, the inspiration for this depressing little idea. It's got spoiler-ish-ness for the appearance of the eighth dungeon:



I was thinking about Twilight at night a while ago, thinking about how strange it is that if you look out from the Palace you see these floating buildings (which obviously they have to warp to). The bottoms kind of... taper off. Kind as if they used to be part of something else.
I made a decision about what that world was: it was the goddesses' world once. But it ended, and they, once princesses in that world, go and create a new world--Hyrule--and become its goddesses.
So yeah, that's what inspired it. Not much of a story, is it?

Isn't it pretty?

Wheeee! I messed with the layout. Details:
->Based on the basic "Minima" layout
->Picture by my sisters... I think? Taken at the Del Mar Fair several years ago. It was almost deleted, but I saw this and a few like it and was like, "PRETTY. I KEEP. Sooner or later I'll find a use for them." And I did!
->+background image and +opacity were learned from layouts found at pyzam.com
->I've still got more to do.

Other than that... Well, I went to my sisters' soccer game today. They're on varsity now, and T.'s the starting keeper! *oozes pride* And they won, 4-2, against the team that took second place in the state last year~ *oozes more pride*
My parents finally got furniture into the front room of our house. It looks really pretty!
Lots of Neopets time today, mostly spent stuffing things into my Safety Deposit Box for the packrat avatar (1000 unique items in SDB DX). Then someone's shop had a link to lookup help ->looking at Neopets lookups -> wondering how to edit my blogger -> looking at blog layouts ->editing!

So anyway guess what.
Twilight Princess time. Man, this thing needs a name...
Spoilers as always. And lots of speculation in this one... though I could very easily argue in support of my speculation. But really this is just so much elaborate nonsense.
~
The goddesses were silent for a moment. Farore was the first to speak.
"You are still fairly young. Where does your level of sentience fall, compared to your people?"
Midna blinked. "I--"
"She is an outlier," Jindal interrupted smoothly, "and I can explain that. For generations, I have watched with dismay as the Twili degenerate. I knew there had to be something I could do--but with my power, all I could do was bless one person each generation with greater potential
than the others had and hope that that helped. Midna was my choice this time."
"And Zant before me?" There was a hint of accusation to Midna's voice.
Jindal gave a rueful smile. "I granted him intelligence when you were born, hoping that he would be a good tutor for you. Apparently the sudden change did not agree with him, though. It was a bad choice on my part. I owe apologies to everyone here."
~
Mmmrf. I'm having trouble.

It is Near's birthday!

And as such I am attempting to draw him a picture.
Mello: Hey, I didn't get anything on my birthday!
Me: *cowers slightly* I sang to you...
Mello: YOU STOPPED AFTER THE FIRST LINE OF THE CHORUS!
Me: I-it was a school day. That makes it a lot harder. And besides, I wrote something for you on the 26th!
Mello: Wha--how does that make up for it?
Me: Idunnoitdoesn'tI'lldrawyousomethingthisyearIpromisereally.

In any case there's no guarantee that this'll come out properly, anyway.

I forgot to mention, yesterday Dad and I made a birdhouse.
I expect I was rather reminiscient of Cody. Quiet, questioning eyes, trailing after him whatever he did... Psh. XD

I'll be working on the fanfiction in my head before I go to sleep. For now, I'm looking for inspiration!

Edit on the morning of 8/25: Instead I wrote Near a fanfiction.
Inspired by seikatsuryoku: 1/10.
--
Slowly, it occurred to Near that he was conscious again. The realization was mainly brought about by the sensation of two fingers against his right wrist—taking his pulse. Someone was taking care of him.
Near opened his eyes.
“…Doctor,” he said with a smile.
It would have seemed a strange thing indeed to see the skinny old man—a piece of his old life—here, of all places, if Near would have thought about it. In his current faintness, though, it was much easier to simply be comforted by the familiar face that returned his smile.
“Hello, N—” A conspicuous pause, and then an apologetic shrug. “Near. They said you were to be called that.”
Near nodded and sat up. They must have brought him back to his own room after he’d collapsed, he noted. He hoped it hadn’t stood out too much.
“Doctor, am I… am I fine?” he asked.
“Yes,” the doctor replied. “You’re fine, Near. It was another false alarm. You still have many years left to live.”
Near sighed deeply in relief. “Thank goodness,” he said. His voice suddenly seemed smaller. “I was scared, Doctor.”
Mild surprise showed in the doctor’s caring face. “I don’t blame you, Near,” he sympathized. “But that’s the first time you’ve ever admitted that to me.”
“It’s the first time I’ve ever been scared by it,” Near replied. His voice was back to normal. “Well, except for the first time. The first time I didn’t know what was going on. But since then I’ve never forgotten—my body is flawed, and I’ll probably die young. It’s resignation.”
“But you’re not resigned anymore?” Near shook his head. The doctor placed his hand on Near’s and asked softly, “Is it because of what happened to your mother?”
“Oh—no. It’s not about Mom’s death,” Near responded, shaking his head again, with quicker movements this time. “Or only in a very roundabout way, I suppose. There’s just something I’m looking forward to now. A reason I want to keep living.”
“And that reason is?”
Suddenly those emotions bubbled into Near’s chest again, hope and delight and pride, just as they had when L had shown Near his face and asked him to be his apprentice; his hands trembled in excitement. But he hid that joy and made his face apologetic.
“I can’t tell you, Doctor. I’m sorry.”
The doctor sighed. “I expected as much,” he admitted. “…Near, I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but from what I’ve seen, this is a strange place you’re living in. Are they treating you all right?”
“Oh, yes,” Near answered readily. And he hesitated, and his eyes fell on the clock next to his bed, confirming his suspicions. “I think I could ask you the same question, Doctor.”
“What do you mean?” the man replied, not faking confusion very well.
“The fastest plane in the world couldn’t have gotten you here this quickly, not from your hospital.”
“I-I was transferred.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Near said quietly. “But I’m sure we had a hand in it, didn’t we?”
The doctor pursed his lips and didn’t respond.
“You’re trying to hide it for my sake. There’s no need to do so; I already know that the House can be very… straight-forward. Compelling, if the need arises.” His mouth gave a wry twitch that was not quite a grimace. “All for this weak body of mine. I’m sorry. I hope it didn’t inconvenience you too much.”
“It’s a very lucrative position,” the doctor reassured him. “Much more so than my previous employment.”
“Of course it is,” Near agreed, “but money isn’t everything.< You had friends back there. And other patients.”
The doctor looked sad for a moment, but then ruffled Near’s hair. “I don’t want you to worry about those things, Near. You’re a child still.”
“I’m not as innocent as you think, Doctor.”
“No, I suppose not,” the doctor smiled, “but will you pretend for me?”
Near shrugged in appeasement. “I guess I can try.”

How about a new entry rather than that abominable system?

...That's the second time I've said "abominable system" today. The other time referred to the Shop Wizard. Grar.
Nothing has really been happening, so I haven't really be writing entries. On Sunday I started a blog for Mel, and I think I'll try to update that once per week, though more time than that will pass in her "world." Snuffles has come home! Yay! Cody has gotten louder. We are reading twelve books in College English. Today I worked on lace_and_gears's pet page a lot. (http://neopets.com/~lace_and_gears) The newspaper article (generated by the same place that produces that ridiculous ninja text and other annoyings on Gaia XD) and the paragraph above the marquee are what I wrote. More to come. Hey, maybe if I learn enough of that html stuff I can customize this more!
Oh yeah, and Target turned down my app. :C See if I buy Twilight Princess from you again! *snub*

Also we have been walking nearly every day. It's lovely, but this morning I was tired and had a headache. D:

More TP. Spoilers for... I don't even know. If you haven't finished the game, don't read it.
~
"Incidentally, elder sisters," Jindal said, addressing the goddesses, "which plight would that be?"
Din gave a rather sarcastic smile and replied, "I have a strange feeling that you already know which plight, Jindal."
Before Anachron could figure out what Din meant, Midna gasped suddenly in realization and turned towards him. "Wait, Anachron, did you...?"
Anachron answered with a soft smile. "Your heart was breaking for your people, Midna. I had to see if there was something I could do."
"But to ask the goddesses directly..." Midna's eyes shone with admiration and gratitude. "You didn't have to do that."
"Well, nothing else he could do would really have an effect," Din pointed out. "In any case, I would like to hear your side of the story before any decisions are made, Twilight Princess. It concerns you more than him, after all."
~
That wasn't very much, was it? More tomorrow.

Lakes are slimy. D:

Double entry to-day. Double, not really delayed, because yesterday we went to Aunt J.'s cabin at the lake (they all say the lake despite the fact that there are proverbially ten thousand of them) and did not return home 'till 'round (I don't know. I really don't know. Feeling random) ten. So there was no entry yesterday.
On the way to the lake, I drew Jindal and started to write something starring Mel. At the lake, I went innertubing (intertubing? it was a big round thing) and I believe I stayed in the tube only through sheer force of will. At one point Uncle D. intentionally made a very sharp turn to throw Z. and me off, and he only succeeded with Z. Ha! But I nearly fell out. Goodness the water was deep though. The thought of falling into water in the center of the lake, even with a life jacket on, terrified me. Hence the force of will.

To-day... what did I do in the morning? Comics, shower, Piece of Heart search, cleaned room, decided to deal with the unfortunate fact that that un-wise hero put the Master Sword back by bringing that obnoxious Skull Kid back into it, drew a card for my grandfather whose birthday party it was today, tried to avoid dealing with relatives (I'm sorry, but I'm not big with outer-family), etc. When they had gone, I took a walk and came back to find the final two Pieces of Heart, but then something really alarming happened. Fanadi is telling me that I can't reach the last P.o.H. Ridiculous! I have all items! I obtained it in Anachron! Where on earth... -mumbles-

So which do you want, the Mel thing or the revised opening to the TP fanfiction? Not that it matters asking you, since by the time you read this I have decided. In fact, by the time I wrote that I had decided. It was a very simple decision to make. You see, the new intro is already on the computer.
Spoilers, naturally.
--
Her hands trembling with eagerness, Midna delicately took the Sol and gazed into it, just as she had in the dreams she’d been having all week. Normally she didn’t really believe in dreams; however, normally she didn’t remember them either, and she remembered every last detail of these dreams, and they felt so real. Solid, almost.
And—she wanted them to be true.
Would it work? Midna held her breath in anticipation.
Just as she was about to turn away—while not as potent as the sunlight, Sol light still could be damaging if one spent too much time staring into it—when an image began to form inside the orb. Midna found herself gazing at the ruins of a once-graceful building, arches and columns and worn-away stone.
But where was…? Midna turned her head back and forth slightly, and obediently the scene shifted accordingly, allowing her to look around. He wasn’t there? But that didn’t make sense—this was his—
And then suddenly Midna recognized the place she was seeing. She groaned.
“He... he put it back!”
~
Anachron’s pleasant sleep was shattered by a scream.
Alarmed, he leapt out of bed, grabbed his sword and shield, and dashed outside. He gasped as he saw the source of the scream. It was Ilia—and she was surrounded by four of the Skull Kid’s puppets!
No time to wonder why they were here. “Ilia, duck!” Anachron shouted, and he flew at the puppets with a hasty jump strike. They halted, as if surprised, and then collapsed to the ground. Anachron sighed with relief, but he kept his sword out in case more should materialize. “Are you all right, Ilia?”
Ilia nodded, looking shaking. “Anachron, what were those things?” she asked in a small voice.
“Puppets,” Anachron replied, looking grimly at them. “They’re controlled by a Skull Kid from afar, and generally they come back until the Skull Kid is defeated. Maybe you should—”
Ilia gave a shuddering gasp. One of the puppets had gotten back up!
“Ilia, get inside my house!” Anachron commanded, leaping between her and the puppet. “I’ll take care of these!” He crouched, ready to strike the puppet if it tried to attack Ilia as she scrambled up his ladder. But it didn’t try to go after her—nor did it advance towards him. It just floated there, twitching-creaking-clicking at him expectantly.
There was something very strange going on. Usually the puppets came in groups of four, but this one’s companions had not risen… And it shouldn’t have risen in the first place… And why wasn’t it attacking him?
Experimentally, Anachron thrust his sword at the puppet—and it calmly floated backwards, away from the attack. He tried again with the same result. This didn’t make any sense. The puppets had never been intelligent enough to avoid his attacks, nor had he ever seen one retreat. Now it was cocking its head at him again, hovering near the path to the Ordon Woods as if waiting for him. Holding his sword at the ready, Anachron cautiously walked towards the puppet; it floated away from him at a pace that matched his own.
It wanted him to follow it.
He could ignore it, of course, but there was a chance that the Skull Kid would send more puppets after Ilia or someone else in the village. And it had never caused him real harm before, only irritation. So with a feeling of resignation, Anachron followed the puppet.

Taxidermy.

There is a point to that title, but I don't think I'll explain it just yet.

Today, pretty much the first thing I did was go for a long, long walk with Mother and Father and Cody. It was lovely. I listened to Fair to Midland the whole time and held Cody's leash for part of the time. At one point he went on a path that was not actually a path. I didn't really appreciate that.

Other than that, when C&T and K., who is visiting us, all finally woke up, I went downstairs and beat Ganondorf on BLAH. Later I gathered the last five heart pieces on Anachron. He has two full heart bars now! Hurray. The only thing really remaining is fishing. I have no interest in going fishing. So I suppose that'll be a reference file.

I watched two episodes of Haibane Renmei without subtitles today. Decent comprehension, though judging by my failed attempt to then watch Bleach without subtitles, I'd say that that was mostly grounded in the knowledge of what was going on. Oh well.

Oh, and I went to Barnes and Noble. I was hoping to find the new FMA and Furuba, as well as D.Gray-Man 6 in Japanese for Zac (since I bought it in Japanese for myself), but all they had was D.GM 6. So I wandered over to the children's section. (Oh yes, WOI is SOOOOO mature.) Therein there was a book called Skulduggery Pleasant. Now first of all, the word skulduggery is tied with anachronism (and related words) for "WOI's FAVORITE WORD IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE!!!!", so of course I had to look. It's about a skeleton-detective-mage-besutodoressaa named Skulduggery Pleasant and a girl named Stephanie who have to defeat evil things called Faceless Ones. Sounded like dark humor. Therefore, it sounded like my kind of book. Unfortunately it was in hardcover and I'm trying to cut back on impulse buys, at least until I get a job again.
Also I saw a book called Vampirates: Demons of the Seas. This made me sad. I had to leave the row, shaking my head to clear the horrible thought. How foolish...

There is something I may try to write involving an inheritance scramble and the four children of a billionaire widow. Perhaps.


Other than that, guess what?
Twilight Princess spoilers.

Regarding Jindal, I forgot to mention last night that one of the main reasons I'm allowing myself to go so far in developing this OC is that his characterization is actually coming. I'm not very good at coming up with characters. I'm just not. It's the sad and pitiful truth. But Jindal is going wonderfully so embrace it as practice, I suppose.

Would you like to see this narration, then?
I've actually decided that it may make its way into that fic. Maybe.
I'll write it normally for you. In my notebook, I decided to write it starting from the bottom line and working up. (Did I mention that?) Yes, I know I'm insane.
--
With effort, I can recall that time. Only with effort, though; the goddesses willed that we woudl remember little of the circumstances that brought us here, with few specifics and absolutely no recollection of how to perform our fateful magic. Most thoroughly did they impress the shame of failure upon our minds, however, along with their lesson about the dangers of ambition and hubris. Ingenious of them, if insensitive.
But far be it from me to criticize the goddesses.
What I can remember, I will tell you.
We were not a peaceful tribe and we made no effort to be so. We were ambitious to the point of being cold-hearted. We desired the power housed in the Sacred Realm so we spent years, almost a decade, honing our magic. Finally the day came; every person in the tribe, save only the youngest children, applied his or her own magical energy to the effort. I can't say what the magic was supposed to do, of course, but I remember that we all knew immediately that we had incurred the goddesses' wrath. A wrenching pain in our bodies shattered our concentration and brought many to their knees. Then came the feeling that parts of our minds were being ripped away. Later we would realize that this feeling equated to the death of our king and queen, whom we had been supplying our energy to so that they could trespass in the Sacred Realm.
Our king and queen--my parents.
When consciousness could again conquer pain, we found ourselves bathed in an eerie, dim glow. Still stunned, we could only sit up and stare around us in an attempt to figure out what had happened to us. With absurd clarity, I remember thinking that the sky looked strange.
It shames me to say that I, the prince of our people, was not among the first to rise and try to discover where we were, instead electing to lounge pathetically on the ground. I only stood when one of those courageous men ran back to me, saying something about the king and queen. I followed the man for some distance, and I saw my mother and father.
As the ones who had actually trespassed in the Sacred Realm, their punishment was severe. Their bodies were mangled, burnt black, almost beyond recognition.
And they glowed with a strange light, greenish, more intense than the one from the black-clouded sky.
I fell to my knees beside them (quite an impressive picture I'm painting of myself, isn't it?) and--to my shock--my parents slowly floated several feet off the gorund and hovered there! As I watched, the light emanating from their bodies grew brighter, brighter, too bright; I lookeod away. Then suddenly there was a rushing noise, and I looked back to my mother and father--but they were gone, and in their places floated two orbs of light. I stared in awe.
Curiously, the light from these orbs refreshed and strengthened me.
By now you have figured out, of course, that these were the Sols, our version of the sun, which give energy to the world we now call Twilight. Very few of my people know of the origin of the Sols. It would be best that you did not tell the Princess.
--
&And there's more to that, but it's not actually written yet.

Not delayed!

That's right! WOI is writing a journal entry on time! It's shocking.

Today, I had an orthodontist appointment at which I was supposed to be told that I may wear my retainer only at night from now on. Instead I was told that I should keep wearing it all the time and come back in December. Drat.

Beyond that, I've spent a lot of time today working on that narration thing I mentioned. Want some explanation? I'll give it a little bit down, but first I'd better describe the rest of my day because it'll contain Twilight Princess spoilers, probably. Yes. Definitely.

This evening I went to an orientation at SCSU for the PSEO program. Post-Secondary Enrollment Opportunity tte ne. Basically it's a way to take more challenging classes through a college while still in high school. For me, of course, it means Japanese. Though in this situation the phrase "more challenging" might be misleading. (苦笑い/bitter laugh) It'll be 201--most likely the first half of Genki II... In other words, stuff I already know. Again. You know, all that stuff I took the final on in CA. And finished first. Despite the fact that I hadn't been in that class for months. This is insanely frustrating... I mean, seriously. I've already done one of those "senior project" things. LABB. Granted, I'm sure that that needs a lot of work--if I did it again, I'd probably find a lot of things that I got wrong--but I mean geez.
Well, it's not like SCSU offers a class on keigo. Or a conversation class. Gosh, I'd love to be in a conversation class... Well no. Let me rephrase that. It would be so thoroughly beneficial for me to be in a conversation class. Most likely I would not love it and it would make me asplode with nervousness.

Goodness, that was longer than expected.

Here start TP spoilers, as well as a ridiculous and バカッテ amount of speculation and--GASP!--an OC. I know. This is ridiculously out of character from me, and possibly a little hypocritical... I mean, I hate OCs! I bash them! Especially that Shiori girl! [now the spoilers really start]

But this OC... he was developed along the same cheating lines that "Dead Future," my massively angsty if-Isis-had-won-against-Seto fic, was based along. Jindal, whom I mentioned yesterday, is the name of this OC, and he is the main god--or should I say "guardian deity"?--of Twilight as created by me. I gave myself rein to create Jindal because--well, first of all, he will be needed in my other fanfiction, and second of all because Midna said that the Twili had different gods. Guardian deities, to be exact. So, they must exist. So I may as well design one as long as he fits and is reasonable. (About the "-ies" part--I've got another called Dawdon in mind. Was going to be Dawdin originally but decided to avoid the Din dealybob.)

And I've been doing my best to make Jindal fit reasonably. It was shocking yesterday, because it appears that I had subconscious memory of the line, "Did you think we'd forgotten that our ancestors lost their king to that greed?" (Probably paraphrased, but quoted to the best of my memory.) I had already planned to kill off Jindal's dad decided that the king of the-tribe-that-became-the-Twili probably died because he led the storm into the Sacred Realm, and then it appears that that is most likely what really happened... odd.

An overview: Jindal was the (fully mortal) prince of the tribe skilled in magic, those who trespassed into the Sacred Realm. Upon his parents' death and his tribe's abrupt relocation to the Realm of Twilight, he became the boy king. Though he was initially inexperienced and uncertain, he became a noble and well-liked king, and he ruled for many years. Upon his death, Twilight went into deep mourning, and some Twili came forward believing that Jindal had spoken to them in dreams and such, as a god. At this point, it was not actually Jindal speaking to them, but their own subconscious wish to see their king again. However, it soon became legend that Jindal had become the god of Twilight, and this legend reached the goddesses' ears. Still caring for their fallen children, the goddesses revived Jindal and indeed gave him the powers of a god, to preside over the Twilight as they presided over Hyrule and the world of light.

That was a strange writing style, wasn't it?
I thought I might type up what I have of his narration so far, but no matter how optimistically I estimate, it doesn't look like I'll have enough time to type that up. (Quit it!) Good night.

Voicing a voiceless character makes my head spin.

Yesterday I went to see The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (Abridged). It was quite funny. We got home at 10:30. That is why there was no journal entry yesterday.

Today, again, I spent much of my time working on the TP fanfiction. I think I mentioned--though maybe I didn't--that it decided to expand without my permission. Not that that really matters, a I am still making my way through the first section. It is very difficult to make a conversation sound natural when you are equally concerned with including a set number of ideas. Oh! And geez! It's so hard to get a characterization set for Anachron. Link doesn't speak! Ever! I read today that he said two lines in a game once. This was a very old game. They stopped that.
(Incidentally, the wikipedia article poo-pooed the fact that Link spoke in a manga adaptation or something. This is ridiculous. Obviously Link speaks--we simply aren't told what he says. Otherwise no one would ever know his name.)

Oh, by the way, this contains funnies: http://www.rinkworks.com/said/
I was there because the site also had a fantasy name generator, which I needed desperately for the god of the Twilight that I'm going to need later, except that I'm pretty sure Midna said godS, so that's an issue. In any case creating one and developing characterization for three is enough of a headache. They get one god.


So, I'll let you read some more of my fanfic. Yes, it contains spoilers.
Resuming where I left off--
--
Of course he couldn't imagine this Midna rolling her eyes; he was remarkably unadjusted to this version of her, to the point that seeing her was still a shock. The contours of her face were severe and her eyes almost unbearabling discerning. But despite those disconcerting qualities--because of them?--this Midna had an inhuman beauty that stole Anachron's breath every time. All he could do for a few moments was stare in wonder, and when he found his voice again, he could only stutter, "M-Midna... How in the world..."
"Which world?" she asked teasingly.
"Either," Anachron replied, too mystified to take part in the joke. "Yours or mine. Midna, this is incredible..."
Though the image was tiny, limited by the dimensions of the Master Sword, somehow it wrapped around Anachron's mind like a vision, and Anachron felt as if he were standing near Midna having a normal conversation, rather than staring into a sword.
"Isn't it amazing?" Midna nodded. "I never would have imagined that a Sol could do this... But the god of Twilight whispered hints to me in a dream... It's twilight there, isn't it?"
Anachron nodded.
"That's the only time this'll work... which means we don't have a lot of time left tonight." She raised her eyebrows pointedly. "Was it really that hard to figure out?"
"I didn't know what I was looking for," Anachron defended himself. "I thought that maybe--"
"That maybe I was there?" Midna asked shrewdly. She shook her head. "That's impossible. With the Mirror of Twilight broken, there shouldn't be any possibility of contact between my world and yours. This is highly irregular--What?"
The remnants of Anachron's bitterness had surfaced when Midna mentioned the Mirror, and it must have shown on his face.
"You knew all that, of course, when you broke the Mirror," he said evenly.
"Naturally," Midna answered, obviously not sure what Anachron was getting at. "That was the point. Light and Shadow aren't supposed to--"
"So when you said, 'See you later'?"
He saw her comprehend, saw her expression shift.
"We see each other right now, don't we?" she asked evasively.
"You had no idea we could do this. You just said that, Midna."
Finally, for the first time in Anachron's experience, Midna had no response ready.
Bitterness laced through Anachron's voice. "You only said that to deceive me."
Midna sighed. "Yes," she admitted. "I did. I didn't want you to to realize what I was doing." She looked dejectedly at Anachron. "You're angry at me."
"Your parting words to me--your last words to me, as we both thought--were a lie, Midna! What did you expect?"
"I expected it not to matter." Midna looked away from him. "I never expected anything like this to happen, Anachron, and I couldn't have interference. If I hadn't broken the Mirror, the conection would have brought chaos to both worlds. It was the only way."
"You could have said that," Anachron protested. "If you'd said as much, if you'd explained rather than misleading me, I would have accepted it with--less trouble, at least. But I can't help but resent that you tried to fool me!"
"You weren't the only one I had to fool, Anachron!" She turned towards hims suddenly, her eyes flashing.
Anachron didn't understand. "Then who--Princess Zelda?"
"Don't be ridiculous. Why should it matter to her?"
"Then..." There was only one possibility left, but it didn't make any sense. "You had to fool yourself?"
"Yes. I did." The fire seeped out of Midna's eyes and she gave a weak, unconvincing chuckle. "What? Did you think the Mirror could only be shattered by my tears?"
--
That's a good stopping point. I've got a bit more written but I haven't finished off the night yet. Also it's nearly 10:30 here. Good night.

Let's see... today...

I finished reading Out of the Silent Planet. After that I hung around because my plans for the day involved working out more of "Don't want you no More" which could not be done until my sisters woke up (the keyboard is in the basement, where they sleep), and T. did not wake up until after 10. But at that point, I went down and worked on that for... goodness, must have been an hour or more. Anyway, I got the background bits through like... I don't remember. Oh wait! I do! Through :55, and that's the violin-trombone duet, so I have that part already. I think the rest might be easier... The cello bits from :21 to :55 were insane! DX But that's over now. Really I think the rest will be simpler. I know, famous last words.
Oh! I've started to draw a picture of Cody. *nod* From a photo that J. took while she was here~ But it's annoying doing all those tiny strokes for his fur. Haha.
それ以外～ (Other than that), FastWeb sent me this notice about a writing scholarship, so I spent a little while trying to coax Mel into a science fiction-y plot.
We had delicious salmon for dinner.
Oh! My gosh!
I had every intention of working on OO this morning, but Dad was doing something with the computer. DX

Help! Help! I'm bein' repressed!

I did finish the puzzle last night! Not a single piece missing. =^_^=

We're watching Monty Python and the Quest for the Holy Grail at the moment. The Black Knight is on screen at this very moment.

This morning I got up, wrote a bit, and walked Cody. Upon returning, I found that my sisters had woken up! Therefore I could go play Twilight Princess! I beat the first dungeon and am currently being knocked unconscious by purple fog. Repeatedly.

I then had brautwurst for lunch with my whole family and soonafter left for my brother's soccer game. We brought Cody. Z scored once and assisted once as well.

Pardon while I switch computers real quick, 'cause the connection wasn't working this morning and I had to type the fanfiction in a kids' only file...
It's incomplete for the moment. I may work on it tomorrow, if I can. But I have Cody duty all day. All day meaning six in the morning to ten at night. No joke.
I made up Jazz and Pandore. Jazz is actually in something else I've written, but I haven't published that anywhere.
---
“He’s trying to kill L!”

The Wammy’s House cafeteria fell instantly silent at those words. All eyes swiveled to the speaker—or rather, the shouter. It was Jazz, her face red with apparent furor and her dark eyes flashing.

Sitting across from her, Pandore cast a shamefaced glance around the cafeteria. “Did you have to get everyone’s attention?” she asked quietly. The question carried in the silence.

“You’ve betrayed all of them, too,” Jazz retorted coldly. “Why shouldn’t they hear?”

“I’ve betrayed no one,” Pandore responded, clearly trying to keep her cool. “I’m allowed to believe and feel what I like. I think he’s right in a lot of what he’s trying to--”

“Kira is trying to kill L!” Jazz thundered, and the rest of the cafeteria drew a collective breath.

Did Pandore support Kira?

“Obviously, I don’t approve of that, but—” Pandore tried one last time to defend herself, but then she looked around the cafeteria. There was hostility in every stare.

Of course there would be.

She dropped her head, defeated. “Forget it,” she muttered. “Forget it.” So saying, she dumped her lunch tray and left the room.

The next day, she was gone.

Mello and Near were summoned to meet with L.

Over a plate of gingerbread cookies, he spoke to them about the Kira case, asked them for opinions. Such questions were, as always, merely a test of reasoning skill and instinct. L rarely needed help forming opinions.

Then, over the last gingerbread cookie (L had eaten them all: limbs, then body, then head), L said, “You two were in the lunch room yesterday, so presumably you know the reason for Pandore’s sudden departure.”

“She sympathized with Kira?” Mello asked for confirmation.

L thought for a moment. “Hmm… I’m not certain she would sanction that choice of words,” he said. “It is more correct to say that she could not find a part of herself that believed what Kira was doing was wrong.”

Lup-ba bup-bup, ba da da dap dup bup-bup

That's from "In the Whirlpool," the DDR: Mario Mix song based on Pomp and Circumstance. It's in my head. Thoroughly.

Sorry about not writing yesterday. I was doing several things. First, I was watching the Death Note anime. That's right; Viz has finally made the downloads available! And despite the fact that I signed up for a newsletter that was supposed to inform me of updates, I only found out by browsing! Hmph. Viz is worthless at times. Often, rather.
But the anime was... well, despite my sarcasm, it was not that bad. It has drawn me in. D: I didn't mean to want to watch all of it--I only bought 6-8, the episodes they have so far that L is in--but I like it more today than I did yesterday, and I think I'll probably wind up watching most, if not all of it. (There's always a possibility it won't be all. At the moment, episodes 15 and 25 receive wariness from me.)

But more importantly!
I was a) arranging plans with Snuffles and b) buying tickets for MY VISIT TO CALIFORNIA! Woo hoo! I have the tickets now! I'm coming from the 13th to the 18th. I can't wait!

That aside.

Today I... what did I do today? Well, I looked after Cody a LOT. That's pretty much the bulk of what I did. Though I did spend some time revising the translations of LABB. To my frustration, the sentences that were hard before continue to be hard. D:

I bet you're just itching for some writing from me. But first, this is my room:

And these are my shelves:Yup, all that on the left is manga. I apologize for the messiness. D:
I'm going to paint the walls pale pink eventually.

Okay. Writing. This is going to be a little random.
--
Chandelier
Clutching her elegant shrug around her shoulders, Rae slipped into the dingy restaurant.
In her graceful midnight blue dress and softly curled hair, she was overdressed and she knew it; but she hadn't been able to bring herself to dress as casually as she knew the rest of the girls would. This was an end-of-the-year banquet for the team. A banquet. Surely an event like that deserved a little primping.
It wasn't like the gap between her and the rest of the team could get any wider, anyway.
But, Rae noted with a rueful glance around, she may have dressed too extremely even for the restaurant. She couldn't help but think the place shabby. Maybe on a sunny day, it would have been prettier, but with these overcast skies the tables looked gray rather than white, and nothing shone like it should have.
Rae reported her affiliation to the host, a bored-looking young man who lazily turned away and led her to the room her team had reserved. None of the girls wasted more than a second's glance on her when she entered, but she saw them roll their eyes and snicker amongst themselves.
She sat down in an unobtrusive corner of the table and crossed her legs at the ankles, shifting her shrug again. Loathe to watch the team gossip, she tipped her head back to gaze at the ceiling.
There was a chandelier.
Against the dirty, peeling paint of the ceiling, it seemed lonely and defiant, struggling to bring some beauty to this two-star restaurant. It glimmered and sparkled warmly. In Rae's imagination (which even she would admit was overactive), it seemed like a palace made of gold and crystal.
Rae looked at her team once more and a dry dislike came into her eyes briefly. Then she looked back into the chandelier and wrapped herself in an imagining.
--
Umm... I'll continue that tomorrow, maybe. It's just about bedtime for me now.

Techno in my head.

DJ Tsar 404's, of course. I think it's... Amor Vincit Omnia. I just found out that this is Latin for "Love Conquers All." (I guessed two of the words correctly! Go me!)

What the Bleep Do We Know?! is really a very odd movie. Very, very, very New Age-y at times. And I think I missed where they went from jumping atoms to "All are one, and one with God," so it just seemed creepy. Furthermore they offered no documentary captions for the speakers--didn't tell us their credentials, essentially. You know that advertising technique where they stick a random guy in a lab coat to make him seem like a scientist? Well, in this movie, they had a guy in a lab coat with brain imaging pictures in the background--but no caption to tell us "(name) (profession)," so for all I know it could be some random guy. Not good ethos at all. Tch tch tch.
Oh, and apparently scientists have made a light, big enough to be visible to the naked eye, that is in two places at once. It would look like two lights, but it's actually the same one and in two places at once. Or so they say. However, it seems the Bleep people weren't a big enough deal to actually obtain footage of said dual location light. Another strike on their credibility.

I'm probably demonstrating several things from a list that Snuffles showed me yesterday: 26 Reasons What You Think is Right is Wrong. But I have a right to be skeptical if I don't find their argument ethical. Oh look a rhyme.

Staunch resolution to believe in what I believe even in the face of scientific information aside.

Speech was a little less Earth-shattering. During lunch, actually, which isn't speech but occurs right in the middle of speech (yeah... that's weird) I held my own in a Kingdom Hearts conversation! What? That's possible? Actually, it was a KHII conversation. (Read as: "Look, I can tell the difference!") R.G. has a very potent wariness of Organization XIII, it seems, so whenever she hears the word "organization" or the number "13," it makes her unhappy. Being violently opposed to the number 58, I can't really criticize. xD In any case I had mentioned the number thirteen (which has--regrettably?--become one of my default "random numbers") earlier, and she decided that I was an Organization XIII spy; not only that, but that I was her Nobody. (Since we're similar in so many ways.) But then I protested that I didn't have an X in my name! Therefore I couldn't possibly belong to O-XIII! And then she mentioned a name I didn't understand. And I sang the Sora song for her. (Embarrassing, as she's in choir and that song is not in my range for a single second. xD)

That reminds me: earlier this morning, I finally started the B=M essay. That's right; I'm writing an essay on a manga. Willingly. You crazy girl. xD I am doomed to be an English major.

Would you like some writing?
This was inspired by Bleep. (Like Fleep, only scientific!) The strange (almost scary) thing about it is that it would make such lovely, fascinating stories about mental abilities. Lovely fiction stories. Creepy if not fiction.
However, this is fiction.
--
Lucy Coronado stared through the window at the prisoner. He was unconscious--sedated. Deep shadows emphasized the contours of his face.
"This is the killer?" she asked Strelow, the prison warden.
"Yeah," replied the warden tensely.
"And yet you say he's been in prison--under strict care due to dangerous mental deterioration--during the entire killing spree."
"Yes."
Lucy looked over the rims of her glasses. "Explain."
"It appears," Strelow said with an almost apologetic look on his face, "that he has been killing people simply by willing their death--by thinking of it."
"That's impossible." Lucy's face contracted with irritation. "I am conducting an investigation, Mr. Strelow; I need facts, not far-fetched occult stories."
"I know it seems ridiculous," the warden answered, running a hand through his short hair, "but ever since he first came to us with the claim--"
"You listened to the claim of a criminally insane man?"
"If you would listen, Ms. Coronado," Strelow said severly; Lucy shut her mouth and he continued, "Believe me, we are not fools enough to take the word of an insane man at face value. But he predicted the deaths to the second, and all the victims have either been personally connected to him or opposed to his radical views. Coincidence cannot explain away twelve murders that fit those criteria. Scharf here can do the impossible: he can kill with his mind. We were forced to make that decision, Ms. Coronado, through careful scientific observation. I can provide you with our data, if you would like."
"I would like to see the data," Lucy replied snidely. "And has that scientific observation come up with an explanation for why this man can do the impossible?"
Strelow wet his lips nervously. "We have, madam," he said gravely.
"Well?"
"He can do this because in his madness, he has forgotten that it is impossible."
--
Obviously, it's partially inspired by Death Note as well. In fact the notes I wrote on my binder yesterday were "DN" and "insanity."

Also,

My pirate name is:

Mad Ethel Cash

Every pirate is a little bit crazy. You, though, are more than just a little bit. You're musical, and you've got a certain style if not flair. You'll do just fine. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from piratequiz.com.
part of the fidius.org network

I speak nonsense fluently.

So 今日はね。(About today.)

When I woke up, I went through one of my incomplete-fanfiction-storing file, weeding a bit and looking at things that weren't finished. That inspired me to finally finish "An American Family," a fanfiction regarding normal people (gasp!) in Death Note. You can have a piece.
That's what I did first period--finished AF. Then I was going to work on the translation-needed parts of Kino, but I forgot that the school's proxy blocks WWWJDIC. HATRED. That made me quite unhappy. So I read Alice Through the Looking Glass.

Second period was the physics final. It was easy and boring.

Third was impromptu speeches. I didn't have to go today, but I timed a whole bunch.

Fourth was the Comp Oedipus timed essay. It went pretty well.

Right now I am listening to dj Tsar 404. I love that guy. Here's his purevolume: http://www.purevolume.com/djtsar404 and here's his official site: http://www.djtsar404.com/ The official site is new, so there's not a whole lot on it yet, but he's amazing.

Other than that... American Family.
You get the youngest boy, because that's what I wrote today.
--

This is an American family, and they are watching the vice president's announcement on television.

The youngest of the family is a mere seven years old.

The vice president's announcement doesn't mean much to him. At his tender age, he does not have any real opinion on Kira, hostile, idealistic, or otherwise. To him, Kira is simply there. Kira has always been there—for as long as this little boy can remember.

Kira made his first appearance in the world when this boy was two, and Kira has been a constant topic ever since. He plays "Kira and L" with the other boys at school; sometimes he's Kira, and sometimes he's L. And sometimes he hams it up as one of Kira's ill-fated victims. It doesn't matter. It's just like a war game; boys will be boys.

And Kira will always be there.

I'm cold.

Today was rather bobbleheaded.
I'm sorry, that was nonsensical. It wasn't really bobbleheaded.

I woke up to my alarm and went downstairs to type up some of what I've written of the Kino fanfiction. Typed for about an hour and a half, but I still wasn't finished... So I'll be typing more tomorrow, maybe finishing it up... However there's still the descriptions (rather easy) and the gun practice. The guns. Augh. Last time I had to translate something regarding guns, I simply DIDN'T. And yes, I will take care of that eventually. I simply don't know how to talk about guns. This is a good thing. A good thing.

After that, Mother made ham, egg, and cheese bagels for breakfast. Yum yum. And I went upstairs to read some Kino and... fell asleep. Multiple times. -_-;

When I awoke, we had an entertainment center! Which doesn't matter to me. Then we went bathing suit shopping, and I didn't need a bathing suit, so I didn't get one. Then we came home and ate GRILLED CHEESE! Yummeh.
And then and then... we went to look at doggies. x3 There was this really, really cute ugly one! It was a Rottweiler-basset hound mix! He was the funniest looking dog I've ever seen!

And then we came home. And I fell asleep again. =_= No, I'm not sick. I know what it is. Anyway.

I did my writing duty for the day. You don't get any. Sorry.

Because trying to format MS Word is a pain.

I should be typing my speech outline right now, but 1) see title and 2) I'm not sure it'll be long enough, so I'm slightly worried.
So, as promised, the night entry!

I have decided that the thing I panicked over this morning is most likely an extended (if incredibly disturbing) coincidence--or I'll go with Death Note's early conspiracy theorists and say it would be some sort of covert government operation. In any case, that was two months ago, after all, and the demonstrators in Shibuya are probably conspiracy theorists themselves.
Edit: Okay, so I stand sheepishly corrected. It apears that it's a hoax that utilizes the BBC frame. That was freaky...

But DANGIT I wish I knew a Note fan here. Hmph. I wanted someone to tell about it all day.

In between doing physics, that is. (I just lost the game. Sorry.) I had physics pretty much all day, and that test was NOT FUN. NARGH. Other than that, I came home and chilled for a bit... haven't done much today.

So yarr. It's writing time.
This is from a little concept I've been working on (sorta), called Titanic II. We'll see how this thing comes out, and then I might explain more. (Or, as always, not.)

The man stared at the envelope in mild distaste. An envelope--and a heavy one at that, sealed with wax. Hand-written address.
"A Victorian," he muttered. "Why would a Victorian be writing to me?"
He slit the envelope open and squinted at the words inside. He'd learned to read at school, of course, but over the years since then the skill had faded from disuse. No one--no sensible person, in other words, no Modern--read anymore.
Still, with some effort, he began to read the letter:
Dear Sir:
You may have heard of a Victorian project that has, for the past two and a half years, consumed the minds of several of our most brilliant engineers and shipbuilders: a recreation of the famed, doomed ship, the H.M.S. Titanic. The new ship, Titanic II, is finally complete and will set sail on the 10th of April, Anno Domini 2112--the bicentennial of the Titanic's maiden voyage.
You have received this letter because your research on the R.M.S. Titanic is renowned world-wide. As such, you are invited to enjoy a first-class passage on the Titanic II with our compliments. On the voyage, you may enjoy both the luxury of the ship and the satisfaction of speaking with others who share your intellectual interests.
You are asked to take into consideration that this will be a Victorian voyage. Modern technology and clothing are severely prohibited. There will be Anti-Electronic Regulators in effect on board to make sure that this rule is followed; other than that, no Modern technology will be allowed. If necessary, Victorian clothing will be provided at request. Please write to [address which I don't feel like making up at the moment] to request such clothing, to learn more about this voyage, or to receive your ticket. We await your reply.
Sincerely,
[Signature]
[Name]
The Victorian History Committee

Hmmm... Nope, don't feel like adding any additional info. Chew on that for a bit. :3 Time for me to write the need step...

Steampunk...?

So today was the APUSH test. It wasn't so bad... I thought a lot of it was kinda easy, actually. x3 But I can't talk about any of the questions right now, or College Board will EAT MY SOUL. And I'd like to keep my soul, if at all possible...

Beyond that. I was, unsurprisingly, exhausted the rest of the day. Either that or I just kinda faked it (subconciously... I think) in Comp because I knew I could get sympathy, since my comp teacher taught AP Eng Lit once... >_> That may have been what happened. In any case.
When I went on Gaia today, there was a post in the Fashion and Style forum about a style called "steampunk." Which is really cool. Check it out: Steampunk


In any case, let's write a bit.
This kinda popped into my head last night. To follow directly after "Team Spirit."
Stockholm

But she went over to the kitchen anyway, listlessly eying her cupboards. Finally her gaze settled on one. Over her shoulder, she asked, "Mello, how old are you?"
"Twenty-one," he enunciated knowingly. A lazy tone in his voice made her doubt his answer.
"Seriously?"
"Does it matter?"
Halle shrugged, decided it didn't really, and got out two wine glasses. She brought them and a bottle of wine--cheap wine, yes, but it wasn't too bad--back over to the coffee table.
"Thanks," he said casually. Halle was surprised at the gratitude, but didn't show it as she poured them each a glass.
"To the death of Kira," Mello proposed, raising the glass.
Halle's lips curved up in a bitter smile, and she revised the toast. "To the death of Kira... at our hands."
Mello smirked too, and they clinked their glasses.
They drank for a while, silent in their thoughts. When it seemed that Mello was finished, Halle collected his glass and took it to the sink to wash it.
"Halle," he said, a minute or so later. She was still at the sink, and she didn't turn around.
"Hm?"
"Are you in love with me?"
"Huh?" Now she whipped around, nearly dropping the wine glass she held--and she found that Mello had stood and come to the kitchen.
He stood a few feet from her, his arms crossed and his head tilted in comfortable arrogance. "Well?" he pressed in a voice that was quieter than before--he knew he had her attention.
But she merely snorted and put the glass down. "Where the hell would you get that idea?"
No--that was a stupid question. From the conversation they'd just had, obviously. From her request to work with him if everything didn't work out with Near. She realized the inanity of her response even before Mello shook his head reprovingly at her.
Then, without warning, he closed the gap between them with a single long stride, took her wrist in his hand, and brought his face very close to hers. "You haven't answered me yet," he pointed out, his breath soft against her face.
There was (for once) no threat in his manner; his face was a perfect parroting of intimacy--the right tilt of the head, the right drooping of the eyelids--but for the mocking air around his lips. And as they stood there, his face next to hers, the mocking smile grew clearer and he snorted.
"Your pulse," he said, giving her wrist a taunting, light squeeze before releasing it.
The flush Halle had managed to contain before now crept into her face.
Her pulse had sped up.
...He was so irritating.
And--even worse--completely right.
He stepped back, all pretense--for of course mere pretense it had been--of intimacy dropped. "Bad idea," he mocked. "That could make things quite inconvenient for you, you know. Not that I'm complaining."
He began to turn away, laughing to himself, and Halle watched him with narrowed eyes. Then, without thinking, she took his wrist and pulled him close, and she kissed him on the lips.
Mello made as if to push her away for a moment; then he didn't.
When they separated, Mello's face was sullenly blank, until he saw the victorious air in Halle's eyes.
"That meant nothing," he claimed with a light sneer.
Halle was not fooled. "You could have pulled away, easy," she pointed out. "You could have--and you would have--hurt me if you didn't want that."
"It's much easier to manipulate people if--"
"Mello." Halle shook her head with a smirk. "You cannot manipulate me."
He considered it for a moment; then, before he seemed to have fully convinced himself, his lips murmured, "True enough," and met hers again.