I'D SAY YOU'RE IN MORE OF A SUPPORTING ROLE.

The Prince

Tue, 01 Jan 2013 16:38:36 GMT

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful prince who lived in a wonderful kingdom. When he smiled, the whole kingdom smiled back. When he told a joke, the whole kingdom laughed. When he laughed...

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful prince, beloved of a... scholar. The scholar said, "I love you." The prince said, "I love you too." They had lived their lives, short though they were, in happiness and joy, followed in all that they did by peerless luck.

They planned their future in the wonderful kingdom, and they were happy.

Then disaster struck. The prince fell ill. The kingdom's healers could do nothing to cure him. They said the only thing to do was to "wait it out". They couldn't take away the pain. They couldn't take away the suffering.

The scholar waited by the prince's bed. In desperation, he prayed to his patron saint, the Lady of Luck, but it was no use; all of their good luck was being met tenfold by this bad.

The scholar said, "I love you." The prince said, "Goodbye."

The scholar begged, "Please!" The prince was silent.

The prince went away.

The kingdom mourned. The Lady mourned. The scholar mourned.

When he could no longer cry, he laughed. When he could no longer laugh, he cried. Never again would the scholar's eyes see the beautiful prince.

The scholar wiped his tears away, and vowed to do better. He vowed to use his luck to do good in the world, to create new things, to fix that which was broken.

He did not know if he could return to the kingdom, with its heartache and woe. He did not know if he could face its people again. He did not know if he could face those memories.

But he would try.

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Sat, 03 Mar 2012 10:56:06 GMT

Captain America / Thor / Stark. DP + power kink.

I have thought it, therefore it exists.

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Fri, 02 Dec 2011 14:10:40 GMT

Almost went to start reading The Tales Of Alvin Maker and Ender's Game, but clicked on the wikilink for Orson Scott Card...

Suddenly, homophobe republican mormon who thinks that global warming does not exist.

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Also

Wed, 09 Nov 2011 08:25:15 GMT

http://www.harkavagrant.com/index.php?id=311
;)

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Goddammit.

Mon, 10 Oct 2011 11:53:19 GMT

Went to give blood with my sister. I now have a painful finger and a referral to the doctor with suspected tachy. Not a single blood was given.
Goddammit.

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THIS THREAD HAS ME HALF-CONVINCED EVERYONE ON THESE FORUMS IS A TROLL.

Sun, 20 Feb 2011 12:28:28 GMT

"I took as many of the books as I could up to the counter and THREW them at the lesbian there. I then started rebuking her and telling her that as hard as it must be for an old spinster like her LESBIANISM IS NOT THE ANSWER! I then pulled out my lighter and tried to burn the books, but a very large security guard grabbed me at that point and threw me out."

"I'm also outraged by the fact that the woman has fruit pressed against her milk bags. Am I supposed to want to eat a grape that's been touching a nipple? If this book becomes popular, woman everywhere will be smothering food with their chest muffins. I am positively nauseous.

Guys, wash your food to be on the safe side."

http://www.landoverbaptist.net/showthread.php?p=686374#post686374

THESE FORUMS. HILARIOUS. ANGRY-MAKING AT TIMES, BUT HILARIOUS.

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REASONS WHY FFXIII ANNOYS ME BEYOND ALL REASON

Sat, 22 Jan 2011 15:26:51 GMT

( SPOILARZ )

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GREY'S ANATOMY

Fri, 14 Jan 2011 14:05:50 GMT

NEED SOMEWHERE TO SPOIL.
( CUT CUT CUT )

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Goddammit literature get out of my way

Tue, 14 Sep 2010 23:13:13 GMT

Assignment part 1:
Name: mute, deaf, Blind
To do: one more scene. And it's right in the middle. Goddammit, old lady, just tell him about the evil plot already.
Current W/C: ~800

Assignment part 2:
Name: A Love Story
To do: read through.
W/C: ~1000

Dance showcase is tonight. Egads. I just want to concentrate on that, and nothing else.

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Sun, 22 Aug 2010 13:23:09 GMT

Also am loving maths right now. Or rather, am loving ordinary maths. Supermaths can just suck my cock. (I didn't realise that there was a back page on my last supermaths test, and consequently got a B. :/. notimpressed.)
In ordinary maths, we're doing the trapezium (willo calls it trapezoidal, but that's american) rule and Simpson's rule.
I learnt these last year while assessing complex functions on wikipedia.
WIKIPEDIA HAS TAUGHT ME MORE THAN ALL OF MY SCHOOL-TEACHERS PUT TOGETHER.

Clearly, wikipedia is god. I want a wikipedia app for my mobile. And free wikipedia. :/.

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Sun, 22 Aug 2010 13:12:15 GMT

Watching Heroes.

S2E1, there is the awkward family dinner. Claire and Noah are talking in secret codes that only they (the individual) understand, the mom is suspicious, and Lyle is like "WTF family?". Meanwhile, I am loling.

How does Alejandro's ability work? Does it have to be a greater amount of his living flesh near her? Could they give her some of his blood to completely cure her? How does this work?

Nathan's beard sure is funny-lookin'.

Oh, dude, Kensei is hot. For an english dude.

AND OH MY GOD. THE GUY FROM THE COMPANY THAT CONTACTS SURESH IS ON GLEE. :D! And the head cheerleader at Claire's school is also on Glee. I was immensely amused by this.

Yay! Finished season 2! How eventful.

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10 Things

Sun, 06 Jun 2010 11:49:32 GMT

Thank you, pixelnyx , for the epic idea.
Now... *thinks*
...
...
...
Trying to think of things that aren't related to stuff I've recently read (The area under the curve is 155 and a quarter units squared. Or rather, the area between the curve and the x axis is. You just integrate it.). Egads.

The first videogame I ever played was space invaders. Then Final Fantasy IX. Then Banjo Kazooie. My entire knowledge of videogames has been pretty much shaped by these three.
If I listen to music while studying/such, I embed it wicked-fast. Less than half an hour before my Lit exam, I sat there listening to The Blue Danube, and memorized Story of an Hour and Ode to a Nightingale word for word. Humming the waltz during the essaywriting, I had the ultimate stock of quotes. I do the same thing with chemistry/physics/supermaths (Maths Specialist, omg, ruining my life.) tests/exams, but for the former two I'll just stare at the important pages and memorize the structure, which'll bring back the words.
On that topic, if I do a test for a subject by myself (noone else in the room, etc), I will fail it. Or, rather, get a score "far below my average". If I do a test that I know nothing about in a room full of people, I will do amazingly in the test. The theory last year was "Luke doesn't learn, he absorbs!" because we'd all watched too much Futurama with brainsuckers.
My skin is terribly/amazingly fragile. And odd. Color: I burn in minutes. I've gotten really good with the burning lately, though - I can now stay out in the sun for however long I want without getting burnt, so long as I keep a shirt on. (:. On the other hand, I now blush to the extreme - with my whole body, but on cue if need be. My skin will also change color depending on my temperature and mood; Green for hot (after red), purple for cold, grey for happy, and gold for content. My right knuckle-scar seems to work the opposite way for temperature - it turns bright purple when I'm hot and a pale green when I'm cold.
Skin: Other: I scar from everything. While on the topic of scars, I have a wicked one in the shape of an eye on my right shin. I have a variety of scars on my hips from being dragged through glass away from a car going through a wall (Ooh, let's hit upon as many interesting points in Luke's life as possible!), scars on my shins from general foolishness (running into a bin, for one), a single scar on my arm that I got from scratching myself with a brick, scars on the knuckles of my right hand from punching a brick wall, and scars on my feet from getting my foot caught in a bike when I was six and from second degree burns from a shortish time in the sun. Oh, and a scar on my thumb from cutting tomatoes and various scars on my back. My two ear-piercings were, uh, interesting. The top one "healed over" after a day of having it out (after having it pierced for half a year :/) and formed an odd black lump that I immediately stabbed with a needle, releasing the weirdest black stuff I have ever seen. My lobe piercing I took out and it healed overnight. This is, of course, after it tried to eat my piercing. It half-absorbed this pretty star earring I had in. It was creepy. Eventually got my sister to attack it with tweezers to get the earring out. I'm just glad my nipples are nice and not all weird and stuff.
I can now crack every finger but my pinky on my left hand, every finger but my pinky and ring on my right, and all of my toes except my big toes. I can crack my wrists constantly; I sit there and just rotate my hands, and with every rotation there'll be two cracks.AHGWEGTWR HA FORGET THAT I CAN NOW CRACK MY PINKY ON MY LEFT HAND. WIN.
I hate it when people lie about their opinions of things to make me feel better. Especially if I ask for their opinion. If I ask for it and don't specifically say "I want you to tell me this is good no matter what you think of it", be honest, godsdamn.
I love surprising people with my muscles. Like, my biceps are like my strongmuscularheterosexualmachomalefriend's, and no-one ever realises until I take off my jumper and flex. Or until I kick their ass in an arm-wrestle. (:. Yay for teenage testosterone!
I have a home tattoo. It's faded to just a pale blue circle, but I actually sat there and dipped a needle (sterilized. Piercing needle. I'm not a complete idiot.) into ink, then into my arm. It was a character-building experience.
My voice deserves a PlusMinusInteresting. No matter how sick I get, with concentration I can get my voice to completely normal - pitch and everything. This is good. However, when I am sleepy/aroused, my voice gets higher by, like, two and a third octaves. The mere combination completely eludes my understanding. If I'm sleepy then I'm only half-awake. Sure, I could have a boner, but I wouldn't consciously be aroused. If I were to become consciously aroused, I would actually wake up properly. This is annoying. When I am scared or worried, my voice deepens. It becomes very, very low, and booming. This is interesting/amusing.
Bonus, because Chrome keeps trying to correct me: I spell mom as mom and color as color. Yeah. It's american. I don't care. It feels more "right". Honor! Neighbor!

So, in other news, as of one week, six days, 17 hours and thirty-six minutes ago (just before midnight, I was the awesomest baby), I am sixteen. My family was as they are every birthday that I go out on - asleep. But it's cool, because I had a wonderful day (... Two hours of rimming. TWO. HOURS. TWO HOURS. I LOVE THIS BOY. SHARE MY LOVE, PLEASE.) and came home to family-present-time. (:.
AND NOW I CAN GIVE BLOOD! Booked in for 12:40 at whitfords on thursday. So excite.

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Sun, 06 Jun 2010 09:27:12 GMT

Okay. I understand why you think the cisgender system and the binary-opposition idea is foolish. But it's something that you can't just boycott. It has too many repercussions.
Take for example the french language. I speak French. I speak it semi-fluently, and on a semi-regular basis. All nouns are either masculine or feminine. No inbetween. If I want to continue speaking the french language, things are going to be masculine, things are going to be feminine.
More so, I do English Literature at school. One of the key focuses? Gender. Masculinity. Femininity. If I boycott the cisgender system and its binary oppositions, I am completely fucked. I will fail the course, because I'll have nothing to talk about in my essays. Especially the ones that have a question specifically regarding gender.

So, embracing the system we have? For reasons such as these? This does not make me a bad person. This makes me a person who understands the flaws in what you're trying to do. Your eventual aim is wonderful, but this is most certainly not the way to do it. Think, children, think.

On that tl;dr note, currently reading The Glasswrights' Apprentice. Mindy L. Klasky. Stupid, stupid woman.
The crown prince is killed by a glasswright, so the king outlaws every glassmaker in the city, burns the glasswrights' guild to the ground, and pretty much destroys them.
DID THE AUTHOR NOT THINK? DID SHE NOT GO "OH WAIT, FUCK, THE ECONOMY OF THIS CITY WITH ITS GLASS WINDOWS AND SUCH IS PROBABLY TOTALLY FUCKING RUINED RIGHT NOW, MAYBE THIS ISN'T A GOOD DECISION FOR MY CHARACTER TO MAKE."? SERIOUSLY. GAH.

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Tue, 25 May 2010 22:49:30 GMT

OH I GET IT.
THEY'RE AUSTRALIAN WITH PART-BRITISH ACCENTS.

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Tue, 25 May 2010 22:34:25 GMT

This minor minor incidental character in the first episode of Grey's Anatomy (season 6) has the same accent/voice/idon'teven as Vanille.
Brb, finding out who this actress is and where she's from.

WHAT. SHE WAS BORN AND RAISED IN SYDNEY.
WHAT.

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Please explain?

Fri, 30 Apr 2010 13:05:04 GMT

Also, in my wanderings I discovered Pauline Pantsdown.
Oh my god, the politics geek inside me is so fucking amused by everything right now.

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currently on my bookshelf

Fri, 30 Apr 2010 13:01:47 GMT

3 -FAKE- volumes
1 Trinity Blood volume
5 Animorphs books
1 Everworld book
1 Dawn of Amber
1 (5 or so if I actually pick them up off my floor) Black Jewels books
"Boardfree"
Matilda
The Redemption of Althalus
The Dipper of Copper Creek
"Deadly!"
Elminster
Elminster's Daughter
(I also own, digitally, the other few books in the main Elminster series)
Nightmare Hall
Magicians of Caprona
Zagwitz
2 assorted choose-your-own-adventure fantasy books
I Am Not Myself These Days
AIRSHIP
Looking For Alibrandi
Robin Hood
Man About Town
5 Keys To The Kingdom books
5 (12 or so if I pick them up off the floor) Deltora Quest books
Rowan of Rin compilation
Get Over It!
My Undoing
3 Series Of Unfortunate Events books
3 R. L. Stine books
Biceps of Death
The Silmarillion
The Adventures of Tom Sawyer
20,000 Leagues Under The Sea
3 assorted Dragonlance books (all the last in their respective series)
The Book Of The New Sun
The Nickel-Plated Beauty
The Sword Of Truth series (also known as "LOOK I AM RICHARD I AM CAPITALISM LET ME SMITE YOUR COMMUNIST WAYS BECAUSE THEY ARE JUST OBVIOUSLY WRONG!")
The Other Boleyn Girl
The Boleyn Inheritance
Send The Stumps Flying
6 assorted Karen Miller non-scifi books
The Castle/Aenir/etc books (compilation)
Mythology

so, what is this? I got 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea in year one. I read and understood it then, and based much of my opinions of future books upon it. I have anime, typical geek books, typical chick-lit, children's books, boring books for boring adults, boring books for boring children, complex books for adults, books about cricket, books about skateboarding, "horror" books, gay-lit books, typical booklover books, romance books, books that no-one I know have managed to get through without falling asleep (literally) and books that are plain odd. And that's just on my personal bookshelf, that other members of the family won't typically peruse. We have a "family" bookshelf three layers deep. In short? I have a scattered personal education.

What I'm really aching for right now, though, is my copy of Colin Thiele's The Fire In The Stone. It's beautifully bound, and is so... Australian. So far off my normal reading.
I found a reference to it in one of our S&E books last year, and just sat, smiling, for the rest of the lesson, remembering.

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HA. HAVE POETRY. IAMBIC PENTAMETER CAN SUCK MY DICK.

Fri, 30 Apr 2010 12:41:52 GMT

Ode, Elegy, Dramatic Monologue, Ballad. NO REALLY. THEY ACTUALLY FOLLOW THE FORMS. THEY'RE JUST... WEIRD.
ESPECIALLY THE BALLAD.
Having not written poetry (well, not... structured-ly.) in a long, long time, this is the result.

Kudos to whoever taught me that the Undying (gods, I haven't played XII in so long, I don't even remember if that's what they're called!) speak in iambic pentameter. That made this so much easier.

Personally, I like Eternity and Ballad the most. Ode to Love feels corny, Last Call feels forced and fake, and Death's Knock feels like I was trying too hard to fit the form. Thoughts, y'all?

Context: I've never really known loss, or sorrow. My life is, really, happiness and butterflies. Though I am appreciative of the darker side of life, I am not entirely understanding of it. This turns me into an asshole at times. And I can admit that, freely. It's justified in my mind as that everything has a purpose, and works to an end. Even bad things. As such, my poems on death (Death's Knock) and loss (Last Call) are... not what I like.
Miss Ray is my Lit teacher. She's awesome. My ballad was written last-minute because I had no inspiration for it until then.

"rhymezone dot com" is constantly referenced in my Lit class: every single member of the class (granted, there are only eight of us and one never comes to school) uses it for every single rhyme we need to make. I thought the rhyme with it was kinda cool. If I do say so myself. (:

HOLY CRAP IT'S RAINING. THIS IS UNEXPECTED.
sorry, got sidetracked. But it's raining! It really is! It's so pretty! I'm just hoping there won't be big-ass hailstorms to beat the crap out of my school, this time!

Back on topic, continuing my context. My education is... scattered. I like teaching myself and I'm interested by odd things. However, one thing I've always liked: Myths and legends. For the last Christmas before I never saw him again, my father bought me a book entitled "Mythology". It's absolutely massive. It's one of the most comprehensive guides I've ever seen. Reading it in its entirety forced me to stop and think about so many "common names". Not common names. Old names. It's now become my habit to google every name of every monster/character/whatever that I find, because they so often have hidden depth and meaning that I mightn't understand. Anyway, I'll occasionally draw upon this mythology in my works, or I'll draw upon references to it. My favourite things are references to references to references to archaic idea-expressions.

REMIND ME TO POST ABOUT MY BOOKSHELF.

Also, tl;dr is my lit classroom's new favourite acronym.

Ode to Love

What sees us through the night?

What brings us back to dawn?

What shields us with its might?

And makes us so forlorn?

What does all this, but Love?

What is't that makes us sigh

With longing, oh so great?

What is't for which we'd die?

And what will ne'er abate?

What is all this, but Love?

What is't that makes hearts beat?

What wracks us with desire?

What impossible feat

Sets us quickly afire?

What does all this, but Love?

What is it that sages,

And bards of sterling skill,

Are puzzl'd by, through ages?

What is the greatest thrill?

What is all this, but Love?

What flies so quick on wings

So pure, a beauteous dove?

What o'erpo'ers gods and kings?

What does all this... but Love?

Death's Knock

Listen! Is that Death's knock upon the door?

Is he come finally to seek me out,

And finish what he started with the gout,

Fifteen years ago, twenty, or even more?

I remember when he did come before

To knock upon my door and stand without.

Before there was hope; Before, there was doubt,

Before I made it through that first long war.

But now he comes a-knocking once again.

No more chances this time, no game to play;

There is no hope of escaping my fate.

I just hope he will take me without pain,

And give me time enough to end my day.

Death, my friend, I will not greet you with hate.

Eternity

I sat, glaring into eternity;

And a voice came through to me:

“Child, listen, this is Fate.

Do not look forwards with hate;

Instead, look back with glee:

Tell me, what do you see?”

And so I looked back, and saw

–

Beneath the sycamore

Love's first kiss,

Clichéd, but still bliss.

–

Heartbreak; and heartbroken,

Words left unspoken.

–

Love once again,

though this through a pen.

–

Meeting

And greeting

And saying hello

To the beautiful beau;

It seemed destined to be

–

Then with marriage I did see,

To be it truly was destined,

And never should I have questioned.

–

And love,

Flying as a dove

Beside time,

And so, with a chime

Did Death's bell ring.

–

But you see, here's the thing:

Death's bell so loud,

And I so proud

Had henceforth conspired

With what Fate desired

To bring me to my end.

–

Their love they did send,

And it helped me see,

So I sat, staring at eternity

And made my peace.

Last Call

“Last call! Last call!”

And last call it was;

He had not come.

“I'll love you always!”

If always is but a day, then

Yes! But time is not so fickle as men

And it runs on through the hallways

Of life, quick to reach the end.

And you always said to me,

That we would live happily.

But some hurts do not mend,

Though they fade, over time

To give, and to give,

Or to live and let live?

To forget cannot be a crime.

“Last call! Last call!”

And last call it was;

He would not come.

Ballad (which is also the name of the poem!)

This moment was the beginning of it,

The fiercest struggle, the furious fight

A battle that I simply had to win.

Here rose the challenge: A ballad to write.

“Oh! But what, oh what,” I cried out in fear,

“Could I ever write about, what would flow?”

So I thought and thought, and I thunk and thunk.

“I have an idea!” I yelled out, aglow.

“I'll write of love!” I shouted, full of hope,

Before a thought came whispering to me

“Oh, star star star star!” I thought, censoredly,

“That's been done heaps, it's the same old story!”

So I thought and thought, and I thunk and thunk.

What was there, by the gods, to write about?

“I'll write of death, time, and mortality!”

Then I thought again, and began to doubt.

“It somehow seems most familiar to me...

Ah! Tennyson did that, and Keats as well!

I'd be mistaken always for th'wrong guy!

Quick, quick, or Miss Ray will damn me to hell!”

So I thought, and thought, and I thunk, and thunk.

And decided to show my great aplomb-----

“Wait! Stop! Hold the presses! What rhymes with that?

I know!” I said, “I'll check rhymezone dot com!”

And with that exclaim, my mind gave a start –

It'd had an idea that was valid!

So I thought and thought, and I thunk and knew:

I'd write a ballad about a ballad!

“Now to find material!” I said, proud

(Scaring the cat at the same time, I'll add)

So I looked high, and low, and search'd about

Despite my fam'ly thinking me quite mad.

Then I thought, and thought, and I thunk and thunk

And realised, as I did: My thinking,

And my thunking had wrote my po'm for me

Which was good, 'cuz my patience was shrinking.

So then I typed it up, and sent it off,

Just hoping that my ingenuity

Made up for my super slowness, cough cough.

And I bid “Good-day!” to this poem's end.

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Wed, 14 Apr 2010 15:17:32 GMT

Hale (that all-boys school (all-boys. Hmmm.)) has wonderful shirts. They're white and they just sit SO WELL on the body.

Going to their uniform shop. Tempted to wear my actual school uniform (WOO FOR CRAPPY OCEAN REEF UPPERSCHOOL SHIRTS!) but thought that would be too much. Going to buy like ten of their shirts. They're freaking amazing oh my god oh my god. Offtopic, my birthday is coming up. Ontopic, I may ask my parents to buy me lots of hale shirts. Ahahahahahahaha.

My mom doesn't want to get me a leather jacket. Hmmm. Going to get one myself from that leather shop in the city.

My queer friends reckon it's only a small step from leather jacket to assless leather chaps. I disagree. (then again, I am the boy that didn't realise the people dressed as romans in the pride parade last year were the bears, and was like "Ooh, I should go join them!". ... ... Touché.)

Went to a gig tonight, and managed to keep it in my pants. Kudos to me.

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