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  <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:december0writer</id>
  <title>decemberWriter</title>
  <subtitle>hide between the lines...</subtitle>
  <author>
    <name>feathers at last at last and no words at all</name>
  </author>
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  <updated>2009-04-30T00:16:55Z</updated>
  <lj:journal userid="14457956" username="december0writer" type="personal"/>
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  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:december0writer:3979</id>
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    <title>BECK tribute</title>
    <published>2009-04-30T00:16:55Z</published>
    <updated>2009-04-30T00:16:55Z</updated>
    <category term="manga"/>
    <category term="beck"/>
    <category term="ranting/raving"/>
    <lj:music>All-American Rejects - Gives You Hell</lj:music>
    <content type="html">One of my favorite manga EVER has just fnished - BECK:&amp;nbsp;Mongolian Chop Squad. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The anime is&amp;nbsp;more well known, and has been over for a while, but like many of my other fandoms, I still&amp;nbsp;prefer the manga. It is about a band called BECK, just trying to make it in the music world. The art is kind of weird in the first chapters, but the characters and the story are irresistable. I&amp;nbsp;get very&amp;nbsp;attached to all the series&amp;nbsp;I really love - and BECK was&amp;nbsp;definately in the top ten. Therefore,&amp;nbsp;reaching the last chapter was a bittersweet moment (espeically since it was a&amp;nbsp;very open ending &amp;gt;.&amp;gt;) The extra chapter, &amp;quot;The Last Day of Eddie Lee&amp;quot;, really broke my heart, too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's just me, but I&amp;nbsp;always get really sad and depressed when a book or movie ends :| I'm always thinking of &amp;quot;what happens next?!&amp;quot; even when there's nothing left. Truthfully, though, I'm also - waaaaay down&amp;nbsp;deep - always a little glad when it's over.&amp;nbsp;It helps&amp;nbsp;to&amp;nbsp;put my naturally worrying heart&amp;nbsp;to rest.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some images from BECK:&amp;nbsp;MCS. (&lt;strong&gt;Note: BECK is property of its rightful owners,&amp;nbsp;i.e. NOT ME&lt;/strong&gt;)&lt;div style="text-align: center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/december0writer/pic/0000cafx/"&gt;&lt;img height="240" width="163" border="0" alt="" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/december0writer/pic/0000cafx/s320x240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taira Yoshiyuki, my favorite character (bass player)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/december0writer/pic/0000d3cw/"&gt;&lt;img height="240" width="176" border="0" alt="" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/december0writer/pic/0000d3cw/s320x240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Top to bottom: Saku (drummer), Ryusuke (guitarist), Chiba (main singer),&amp;nbsp;and Taira&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/december0writer/pic/0000eefw/"&gt;&lt;img height="240" width="164" border="0" alt="" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/december0writer/pic/0000eefw/s320x240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Koyuki, BECK's second singer and guitarist, also the main character&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/december0writer/pic/0000f57f/"&gt;&lt;img height="240" width="167" border="0" alt="" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/december0writer/pic/0000f57f/s320x240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/december0writer/pic/0000g1pa/"&gt;&lt;img height="240" width="161" border="0" alt="" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/december0writer/pic/0000g1pa/s320x240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/december0writer/pic/0000hg0h/"&gt;&lt;img height="240" width="161" border="0" alt="" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/december0writer/pic/0000hg0h/s320x240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Random scenes of BECK being awesome - only a few of the many things that make me love it!&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:december0writer:3733</id>
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    <title>december0writer @ 2009-03-21T23:09:00</title>
    <published>2009-03-22T04:25:52Z</published>
    <updated>2009-03-22T04:25:52Z</updated>
    <category term="personal crap"/>
    <category term="updates"/>
    <lj:music>Radiohead - Sail to the Moon</lj:music>
    <content type="html">&lt;strong&gt;Guess what I&amp;nbsp;gave up for Lent?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YouTube&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And guess how many mmvs I've finished since then?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It figures. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm very upset that spring break is almost over. It went waaaaay too quick. I still have yet&amp;nbsp;to finish &lt;em&gt;Atlas Shrugged&lt;/em&gt; (by Ayn Rand) and it's taking FOREVER because I'm stuck in the middle of this guy's 60-page speech. Yes. 60 pages. From page 1009 to 1069 - as if&amp;nbsp;the book&amp;nbsp;wasn't long enough to begin with. And I thought &lt;em&gt;Anna Karenina&lt;/em&gt; was bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've really fallen out of the habit of writing lately. I'm trying to fix that, mostly playing around with the themes I &lt;strike&gt;stole&lt;/strike&gt; borrowed from random comms. I have a big Word document that I just copy-and-paste stuff that might inspire me to write later, though most of it just sits there. Yes, yes, I know I've mentioned I procrastinate, so sue me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went on a family vacation to Carlsbad Caverns, NM. It was AMAZING,&amp;nbsp;but&amp;nbsp;it was hard&amp;nbsp;to get good pics. Also went to the Space History Museum in Alamogordo - my dad&amp;nbsp;was better at the space shuttle simulator than a pilot from the&amp;nbsp;base there (*cough* yearsofhelicopterflying *cough*).&amp;nbsp;Otherwise I've just been reading manga and cleaning out my closet for a garage sale. Fun-fun-fun-fun, yes?</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:december0writer:3393</id>
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    <title>026. Cureless (FMA/Royai)</title>
    <published>2009-01-04T01:51:46Z</published>
    <updated>2009-01-04T02:17:54Z</updated>
    <category term="fullmetal alchemist"/>
    <category term="fanfiction"/>
    <category term="royai 100 themes"/>
    <lj:music>Firefly by Breaking Benjamin</lj:music>
    <content type="html">&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Title:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt; 026. Cureless &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rating: &lt;/strong&gt;PG &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Disclaimer: &lt;/strong&gt;Fullmetal Alchemist is (c) Arakawa, Emily Dickinson's poetry is (c) Emily Dickinson. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A/N: &lt;/strong&gt;My third oneshot for the Royai 100 themes. This one is a little darker (I secretly love good angst stuff. So weird, I know). Concrit is welcomed and greatly appreciated; I know I've still got plenty to improve in my writing. Thank-you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;xxXXxxXXxx&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;em&gt;026. Cureless&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; The office is dark and quiet when she finally closes and locks the door behind her. Everyone else had long ago left, eager to be gone after a long day of uneventful paper-shuffling. Riza cannot help but think &lt;em&gt;how nice it is, to sit in a cool air-conditioned building with comfy chairs and coffee and nowhere to go, no people to fight fight fight...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; It has been a awhile since she's seen actual combat, but the feel of it has been driven into her very bones. She knows what the desert will look like this time of year, many miles away in what was once the great nation of Ishbal. She knows every notch and pockmark in every one of her guns, every smooth twist and slide of every mechanism that will make every bullet fly true. She knows, she knows...&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Quietly, Riza closes and locks the door behind her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;em&gt;Remorse is memory awake,&lt;br /&gt;Her companies astir, -&lt;br /&gt;A presence of departed acts&lt;br /&gt;At window and at door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/em&gt;&amp;nbsp;Outside his window, the sky is dark and speckled with only a few particularly bright stars. The rest are all drowned out by the city lights, creating a murky haze of half-darkness around every corner.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; There is a bottle (of... something... there's a label on it but Roy can't quite get his eyes to focus enough to read) sitting on the table before him, amber liquid sparkling in the dim light from two solitary candles. He can see his own distorted reflection in the glass - one minute there, the next gone as his head spins slightly and he closes his eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; He does not let himself fall asleep; he does not dare risk dreams of the horrors that dance in his head, behind his eyelids...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Its past set down before the soul,&lt;br /&gt;And lighted with a match,&lt;br /&gt;Perusal to facilitate &lt;br /&gt;Of its condensed dispatch.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; There are nights like these, every so often, where Riza will absently search for reasons to stay later and later at work and Roy will do his best to escape as quickly as possible. They do not need words; it is written plainly on their faces what is on both their minds and that is all the explanation they need. It is the silent blessing of their shared memories in the desert - and its curse.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;em&gt;Remorse is cureless, - the disease&lt;br /&gt;Not even God can heal;&lt;br /&gt;For 't is His institution, -&lt;br /&gt;The complement of hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;- Emily Dickinson&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank-you for reading, and I hope that you enjoyed it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:december0writer:3144</id>
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    <title>022. God and 085. Surprise Attack (FMA/Royai)</title>
    <published>2008-12-08T00:27:02Z</published>
    <updated>2008-12-08T00:27:58Z</updated>
    <category term="fullmetal alchemist"/>
    <category term="fanfiction"/>
    <category term="royai 100 themes"/>
    <lj:music>Rooftops - Lostprophets</lj:music>
    <content type="html">&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Title:&lt;/strong&gt; 022. God&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rating:&lt;/strong&gt; G&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A/N:&lt;/strong&gt; First of my attempts at the Royai 100 themes. Pretty short one, just to start out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center"&gt;xxXXxxXXxx&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt"&gt;022. God &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;Riza had grown up in an alchemist&amp;rsquo;s household; anything remotely mysterious or supernatural could be easily explained with charts and diagrams, simple formulas and calculations. Water disappearing from the glass by the window? Evaporation, of course. Why the sun moves across the sky? That one had taken her father a half an hour and several astronomy charts, but in the end he had successfully killed any sense of magic to the phenomenon. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;Watching the Ishbalans die for this invisible, unproven god &amp;ndash; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;killing them in cold blood, for this blind faith, with her own two hands&lt;/i&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&amp;ndash; only served to prove how the explanations of math, of physics and chemistry and even of proper grammar, were so much more solid than tales of gods and goddesses, fantastic heroes and magical animals. Much more real. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;Much more safe. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;But standing here, listening to the homunculus, Lust, it all seems so &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;far &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;away. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;No.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;The colonel couldn&amp;rsquo;t be dead.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;Please, no.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;Riza knows there are statistics &amp;ndash; there are formulas of probability and percentages and all the physical proof that shows when someone is lying, but right now all she can think of is his quick, charming smile and the droning &lt;i&gt;thump-thump-thump&lt;/i&gt; of her own heart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;Dear god, please, no&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;xxXXxxXXxx &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Title:&lt;/strong&gt; 085. Surprise Attack&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rating:&lt;/strong&gt; G&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A/N: &lt;/strong&gt;Second oneshot. This one is slightly longer and has more action in it. I&amp;nbsp;liked the idea behind it, but I'm not sure I portrayed it the way I wanted to...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;&lt;span&gt;xxXXxxXXxx&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;085. Surprise Attack&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&amp;ldquo;Is dinner ready yet?&amp;rdquo; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;Riza barely contains an exasperated sigh, instead forcing herself to turn to Mr. Mustang and say, with a deceptively calm face, &amp;ldquo;Yes, it&amp;rsquo;s ready now.&amp;rdquo; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&amp;ldquo;Well, about time!&amp;rdquo; He pulls out his chair and plops down at the table without preamble, fork already halfway to his mouth before Riza coughs quietly. Mr. Mustang stops mid-bite, giving her a concerned look. &amp;ldquo;Are you alright? Do you need a drink of water?&amp;rdquo; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;Riza&amp;rsquo;s patience has slipped enough in the last fifteen minutes that she allows herself to frown, just a tiny bit. &amp;ldquo;No. I was going to say, please enjoy the meal.&amp;rdquo; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&amp;ldquo;Oh. Well, thank you. I will.&amp;rdquo; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;She forces herself to cut up her food slowly, doing her abject best to ignore the loud clinking and chewing noises coming from her right. She ignores them so fiercely that it takes Riza several moments to realize that the sounds have stopped. She looks over at Mr. Mustang to find him gazing at the kitchen doorway, seeming slightly puzzled. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&amp;ldquo;Is something the matter?&amp;rdquo; she asks politely. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&amp;ldquo;Huh? Oh, I was just wondering if Sensei was going to come and eat,&amp;rdquo; Mr. Mustang explained, not even sparing Riza a glance as he stuffs another spoonful of cooked peas into his mouth. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;It takes more self-restraint than Riza thought to keep from smacking his wrist like a reproachful nanny. This pale, skinny, dark-haired boy hasn&amp;rsquo;t even been in her house for a full twenty-four hours, and here he is, pestering her about dinner for a whole twenty minutes, and then gorging himself silly once she sets it down in front of him. And even though he is only four years older than her, she automatically calls him &amp;ldquo;mister&amp;rdquo; because he is fourteen and she is only ten! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;The spoon is in her hand almost before Riza has a chance to think, and then the glob of food is zooming through the air straight towards Mr. Mustang&amp;rsquo;s face, where it lands with a strangely satisfying &lt;i&gt;splat!&lt;/i&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;For a moment they are both completely still, staring at each other. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;With mashed potatoes and gravy stuck to his forehead and dripping down his nose, Riza can&amp;rsquo;t think of Roy Mustang as a &amp;ldquo;mister&amp;rdquo; anymore &amp;ndash; he is just a pale, skinny, dark-haired boy who she hasn&amp;rsquo;t even known for twenty-four hours, sitting in her kitchen gorging himself silly on her food&amp;hellip; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;And she starts to laugh. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&amp;ldquo;What, you think throwing food at me is &lt;i&gt;funny&lt;/i&gt;?&amp;rdquo; Roy gives her a furious glare &amp;ndash; but there is amusement sparking in his dark eyes as he reaches toward his own plate full of food. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText" align="center" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;- - - - -&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText" align="center" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText" align="center" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText" align="center" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;The food fight lasts all of two minutes &amp;ndash; the same amount of time it takes Hawkeye-sensei to come tromping down the stairs from his study, ready for his evening meal. He is less than pleased to find his new pupil doubled over laughing &amp;ndash; with mashed potatoes on his face and creamed corn on his collar and &lt;i&gt;was that a pat of butter melting in his hair?&lt;/i&gt; &amp;ndash; while his daughter attempted to lick jam off her nose. She was apparently oblivious to the large glob of gravy in her bangs, the peas scattered across the kitchen, and the remnants of what seems to be a whole biscuit (peach jelly and all) in her lap.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoBodyText" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;But even as she spends her evening on the cool wood floor of the kitchen, hunting for stray peas, Riza cannot quite manage to hide the small smile creeping across her lips. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;#39;Times New Roman&amp;#39;,&amp;#39;serif&amp;#39;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:december0writer:3009</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://december0writer.livejournal.com/3009.html"/>
    <link rel="self" type="text/xml" href="http://december0writer.livejournal.com/data/atom/?itemid=3009"/>
    <title>[update]</title>
    <published>2008-11-10T20:41:42Z</published>
    <updated>2008-11-10T20:41:42Z</updated>
    <category term="personal crap"/>
    <lj:music>Wasting My Time by Default</lj:music>
    <content type="html">Eh, not really much to say. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gave up any hope&amp;nbsp;of&amp;nbsp;salvaging &lt;em&gt;Greeting Death&lt;/em&gt; - it's back to its original oneshot form and it's staying that way. &lt;br /&gt;On a better note, I've been playing around with a few of the Royai 100&amp;nbsp;themes. I've done two so far, but I'm not sure about posting them anywhere yet. Probably start out here on lj, though... &lt;br /&gt;Also been working on and off on a Bleach mmv. I don't know&amp;nbsp;if its Windows Movie Maker or what, but something's spazzing out my audio...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stupid All Region band tryouts were Saturday. I&amp;nbsp;spent three hours sitting&amp;nbsp;in a freezing cold band hall (on the TILE - noooo, chairs are too much to ask for), drumming on my legs until it was my turn.&amp;nbsp;Where&amp;nbsp;my mind went&amp;nbsp;blank and I&amp;nbsp;just&amp;nbsp;sped&amp;nbsp;through&amp;nbsp;all three pieces, wrong notes or not. I&amp;nbsp;hate stuff like that.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And,&amp;nbsp;though I'm sure my whining was very entertaining (not),&amp;nbsp;The End. &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:december0writer:2250</id>
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    <title>&amp;lt;&amp;lt; Sullen Vent &amp;gt;&amp;gt;</title>
    <published>2008-02-02T18:51:26Z</published>
    <updated>2008-02-02T18:51:26Z</updated>
    <lj:music>Wing-Stock by Ashley MacIsaac</lj:music>
    <content type="html">&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&amp;lt;&amp;lt;&amp;nbsp; Sullen Vent of Half-Awake Diseased-ness &amp;gt;&amp;gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I just need&amp;nbsp;to &lt;em&gt;freaking complain&lt;/em&gt;.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm always cold. I'm always tired. I&amp;nbsp;&lt;em&gt;really, really, really &lt;/em&gt;want&amp;nbsp;some ice to&amp;nbsp;eat&amp;nbsp; &lt;strong&gt;; . ;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The previous&amp;nbsp;facts have led the good doctor to conclude that I have &lt;strong&gt;anemia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The iron supplements that are supposed to help my &lt;strong&gt;anemia &lt;/strong&gt;not only made me sick to my stomach, but &lt;strong&gt;:&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; - &lt;/strong&gt;I cannot consume bread, milk, or any dairy product one hour before or two hours after taking them&lt;br /&gt;and&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; - I cannot lay down for thirty minutes after taking them&lt;br /&gt;The nausea lasted until the next day, &lt;em&gt;when I was at stupid school&lt;/em&gt;, where I could hardly lift my head off the desk because I was so weak and tired.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;After&amp;nbsp;suffering through over half&amp;nbsp;of the school day, I finally dragged myself to the nurse's office. Because I was struggling not to start crying and pass out on the floor, she (thank god) let me go home without a fuss.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got home and immediately conked out for five hours straight. When I finally woke up, I had a minor fever and a throat so sore I could hardly choke down a sip of water.&amp;nbsp;The coughing, needless to say, did not do &lt;em&gt;any&lt;/em&gt; good. &lt;br /&gt;The fever didn't go away, so I had to haul off to the doctor's (again), where he told me I had the &lt;strong&gt;flu&lt;/strong&gt;. The medicine he gave me was okay, but it nothing to help my worst symtoms (i.e. the &lt;strong&gt;sore throat&amp;nbsp;&lt;/strong&gt;and&amp;nbsp;&lt;strong&gt;coughing&lt;/strong&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;To Sum It All Up :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;I have like a billion medicines to take&lt;br /&gt;My throat hurts like crap and people &lt;em&gt;keep trying to talk to me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;I can't hardly eat &lt;em&gt;anything&lt;/em&gt; I like for a good portion of the day&amp;nbsp;(when I can eat &lt;em&gt;at all&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;I can only just recently stay awake for more than an hour without collapsing back asleep&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I REALLY, REALLY, REALLY WANT SOME ICE&amp;nbsp; :(&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;~ decemberWriter &lt;/p&gt;</content>
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  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:december0writer:1872</id>
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    <title>How I've Been Wasting My Time...</title>
    <published>2008-01-18T01:52:41Z</published>
    <updated>2008-01-18T02:02:30Z</updated>
    <lj:music>Biała Flaga by Bracia</lj:music>
    <content type="html">&lt;strong&gt;What I'm Supposed&amp;nbsp;To Be Doing:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Researching&amp;nbsp;neurotechnology (school project)&lt;br /&gt;Slaving over &lt;u&gt;Greeting Death&lt;/u&gt; (the thing is a mass of bad -cough-no-cough-&amp;nbsp;planning)&lt;br /&gt;Researching&amp;nbsp;for&amp;nbsp;&lt;u&gt;Frozen Memories&lt;/u&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;Working on my half-wit&amp;nbsp;HTML/CSS skills&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What I've Been Doing:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Skulking around dA&lt;br /&gt;Skulking around FF.net&lt;br /&gt;Burying myself in emo fiction novels&lt;br /&gt;Listening to my&amp;nbsp;entire iTunes library&amp;nbsp;3 times&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you can see,&amp;nbsp;I haven't been very productive lately. The few things I do get done are all for school, and as soon as they're done and turned in, I get assigned &lt;em&gt;more.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;However,&amp;nbsp;it&amp;nbsp;can be put off for a bit. So I spent the afternoon working on these:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="cutid1"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="ljcut" text="Ohhh, what could it be???"&gt;&lt;a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/december0writer/pic/00001k97/"&gt;&lt;img height="100" alt="" width="118" border="0" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/december0writer/pic/00001k97" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/december0writer/pic/00002h0b/"&gt;&lt;img height="100" alt="" width="118" border="0" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/december0writer/pic/00002h0b" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/december0writer/pic/000032t4/"&gt;&lt;img height="100" alt="" width="118" border="0" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/december0writer/pic/000032t4" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;a href="http://pics.livejournal.com/december0writer/pic/0000417f/"&gt;&lt;img height="100" alt="" width="118" border="0" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/december0writer/pic/0000417f" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They all pretty much stink, but I'm learning.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;... I think. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And playing &lt;em&gt;Bleach: Shattered Blade &lt;/em&gt;on Wii. Those stupid dub voices annoy the heck out of me, but otherwise, I enjoy it quite a bit. :3 &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So-o-o-o... yeah. That's it.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ decemberWriter ~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/em&gt;</content>
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  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:december0writer:1338</id>
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    <title>Post-Christmas Euphoria</title>
    <published>2007-12-27T16:55:00Z</published>
    <updated>2007-12-27T16:55:00Z</updated>
    <lj:music>Going Under by Evanescence</lj:music>
    <content type="html">&amp;nbsp;Christmas has come and gone... it was very nice, I got everything I wanted XD&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="cutid1"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="ljcut" text="Gifts, Giving, and Gloves, Oh My!"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A Brief Summary of my Holiday Horde:&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;- 3 Barnes &amp;amp; Nobles gift cards (score!)&lt;br /&gt;- iTunes gift card (double score!)&lt;br /&gt;- iHome 8&lt;br /&gt;- Bleach: The Blade of Fate for my DS&lt;br /&gt;- Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix for DS&lt;br /&gt;- Mario Party DS&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;Aaaaaaaand - NO TABLET&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;Yea! That means I can actually get my own, just like I wanted :3 Now to convince my mom to take me to the store...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know, I know, it's not all about presents - that's why my mom dragged me and my dad out to volunteer at the Salvation Army soup kitchen on Christmas Day. It was surprisingly fun, and some cousins I hadn't seen in a while were volunteering, too, so it was nice to see them again. We worked at the drink table - I spent the whole two and half hours turning back and forth, filling cups up with ice XD; The only part I didn't like was having to wear the plastic gloves. They were very uncomfortable and hot (blegh).&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, in other news...&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no other news. Good-bye!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ decemberWriter ~</content>
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  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:december0writer:1043</id>
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    <title>The Holidays Are Here</title>
    <published>2007-12-22T19:06:19Z</published>
    <updated>2007-12-22T19:13:35Z</updated>
    <lj:music>Nemo by Nightwish</lj:music>
    <content type="html">&lt;p align="left"&gt;Christmas vacation has &lt;em&gt;finally &lt;/em&gt;started - I'm so happy I could dance (but I won't). We put up our Christmas tree last weekend. It's sitting in the living room with presents underneath, glowing and glittering and making me all fuzzy with Christmas spirit. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And without school tying up the daytime hours, the pre-holiday chaos has substancially subsided - enough for me to get some quality couch potato time in. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't been totally slacking, though. Recently, I've been looking into getting a tablet. My current choice is an&amp;nbsp;&lt;strong&gt;Intuos3 6x8&lt;/strong&gt;.&amp;nbsp;I'm rather hoping that I &lt;em&gt;won't &lt;/em&gt;get one for Christmas, that way I pick out one that I like and that will work with what I want to do (especially since I just figured out what model I want this morning :X).&amp;nbsp;I'll just have to keep my fingers crossed and hope it's a Wii or something. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ decemberWriter ~&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Random Stories About My Life:&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a name="cutid1"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="ljcut" text="A bit of laughter and stuff."&gt;Story No. 1:&lt;br /&gt;I broke our glass salt shaker this week. I was cleaning up after a nutricious McDonald's dinner, reaching up to put it back on the shelf, when I turned to talk to my mom and let it go. I guess I just assumed it was properly in the&amp;nbsp;cabinet, but that was not the case. It crashed on the counter in front of me, shattered into many little pieces, and scared me so much that I could only babble, "Oh my gosh! It broke! I am so, so sorry!" I think my mom was trying to not laugh at me the whole time. She said,&amp;nbsp;"It's alright, just&amp;nbsp;be careful not to step on any glass. I'll clean this up, and you're only allowed to handle the plastic stuff now, okay?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Story No. 2:&lt;br /&gt;Last Tuesday, the band went to one of&amp;nbsp;the district's elementary schools to play Christmas carols (my old elementary school, in fact).&amp;nbsp;Nearly half of the band was&amp;nbsp;left behind, because they were&amp;nbsp;outside in athletics when they called us out to the buses - including two of the five percussionists. So the three of us left&amp;nbsp;had to&amp;nbsp;rotate between the four insterments needed for the carols; not to&amp;nbsp;mention haul them around. I was stuck with the snare and snare stand, but&amp;nbsp;I didn't have it near as bad as my friend. She had to carry the bell kit &lt;em&gt;and &lt;/em&gt;drag its stand around. We made it to&amp;nbsp;the elementary in one piece, though, and managed to get through all the songs quite well (although I&amp;nbsp;was late on the jingle bell part - I&amp;nbsp;usually play tempani&amp;nbsp;x_x). Afterwards, the band directors told us to take our&amp;nbsp;instruments&amp;nbsp;and let the little kids&amp;nbsp;hold them and stuff.&amp;nbsp;My friend pushes me towards a bunch of 1st- or&amp;nbsp;2nd-graders, and I&amp;nbsp;go, "Does anyone want to try the jingle bells?"&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They just &lt;em&gt;look &lt;/em&gt;at me.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I try again. "Are you sure? They're really fun." I&amp;nbsp;even jingle them a few times, to demonstrate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They &lt;em&gt;look&lt;/em&gt;, and don't say anything.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was so funny and embarassing I almost cried, while my friend laughed her head off&amp;nbsp;at my&amp;nbsp;awkward&amp;nbsp;expression. This only shows&amp;nbsp;how much&amp;nbsp;I fear babysitting and&amp;nbsp;just dealing&amp;nbsp;with little kids in general&amp;nbsp;- dogs are much more my specialty. &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;</content>
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  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:december0writer:756</id>
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    <title>Oh Boy, Here We Go...</title>
    <published>2007-12-15T01:15:12Z</published>
    <updated>2007-12-21T01:34:03Z</updated>
    <lj:music>None (surprisingly)</lj:music>
    <content type="html">&lt;p align="left"&gt;Alright, if you can't tell - I'm very new at this kind of stuff. MySpace, livejournal... it's all a foreign language to me. So-o-o-o....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's start with some interests, shall we?&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a name="cutid1"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="ljcut" text="I find the following to be entertaining..."&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Interest 1&lt;/strong&gt;: Anime/Manga&lt;br /&gt;Some of my favorites include:&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;- Bleach&lt;br /&gt;-&amp;nbsp;Naruto&lt;br /&gt;- Fullmetal Alchemist&lt;br /&gt;- Kare Kano&amp;nbsp;(even though stupid Barnes &amp;amp; Nobles only ever has volume 1)&lt;br /&gt;- Fruits Basket&lt;br /&gt;and various others.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If anyone cares to look, the links for my&amp;nbsp;Fanfiction.net and deviantART accounts are in the sidebar. I, personally, think my fanfics are better - my art sucks. At least with&amp;nbsp;writing&amp;nbsp;it doesn't matter if you&amp;nbsp;have a shaky hand or not.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Interest 2&lt;/strong&gt;: Books in&amp;nbsp;General&lt;br /&gt;I love to read. Simple as that.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Interest 3&lt;/strong&gt;: Music&lt;br /&gt;Gosh, I love music, too. I&amp;nbsp;would never take my iPod off, if I&amp;nbsp;had the choice.&amp;nbsp;A couple bands I particularly like:&lt;br /&gt;- Muse&lt;br /&gt;- Breaking Benjamin&lt;br /&gt;- Imogen Heap&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;- Skillet&lt;br /&gt;- Linkin Park&lt;br /&gt;- The Rasmus&lt;br /&gt;- Evanescence&lt;br /&gt;- Tatu&lt;br /&gt;- Rammstein (even though&amp;nbsp;I don't know a&amp;nbsp;bit of German 0.0;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ehhh.... that's it for now, I&amp;nbsp;guess. (I really had nothing to say to begin with).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• ○ •&amp;nbsp;decemberWriter • ○ • &amp;nbsp;&lt;/p&gt;</content>
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