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  <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:fatedshadowmuse</id>
  <title>Life is short.</title>
  <subtitle>Let's see if we can make it shorter!</subtitle>
  <author>
    <name>Muse</name>
  </author>
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  <updated>2006-07-06T06:12:43Z</updated>
  <lj:journal userid="7955556" username="fatedshadowmuse" type="personal"/>
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  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:fatedshadowmuse:19927</id>
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    <title>fatedshadowmuse @ 2006-07-05T22:47:00</title>
    <published>2006-07-06T04:47:46Z</published>
    <updated>2006-07-06T06:12:43Z</updated>
    <category term="heart"/>
    <content type="html">&lt;h5&gt;Near My Heart To Stay&lt;/h5&gt;

A golden glow shown over the rooftops of London, dancing up one side and ever-so-slowly turning the other side to orange, red, purple – a single star, then another appeared like so many that were to fill the night sky – and then, to black. Pure black illuminated only by the stars overhead, then moon nowhere to be found. There was a lone figure on the rooftops, the various ally cats and the rats not to be found for once, leaving that singular being to change shades with the tiles, as motionless as if it had been cemented in place along with them when the buildings where built.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;
Hours pass as the hues of the sky and of the roofs and the bricks and of the cobblestone streets below with the folk unburdened by whatever it was hunched the lonely one’s shoulders as if they carried the weight of the world, unheeding of the problem that drew the face of the single thinker out to the sea, away from the sun and the kaleidoscope display of nature’s might and beauty. Black pants that had, in the yellow bath of the sun, stood out so starkly among the brown tones of the church rooftop now deceived as to where they began and where the pale skin and paler still shirt began. Still, the figure did not move. Not until all the sunlight from the sky was gone, and not until all the stars had began to twinkle in the velvet night.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;

“&lt;b&gt;How long should I wait?&lt;/b&gt;”&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;

The words were spoken quietly, not shattering but adding to the silence and the peace that had crept upon the world with the coming of the night. However, there was no mistaking the anguish and the sorrow and the sheer pain behind those simple words. The male suddenly leapt up from where he sat upon the pinnacle of his chosen roof upon the house of God, his words now weaving the opposite effect upon the tranquility of the hour, shattering it with a loud and booming, yet broken and grating and mournful voice announcing to any that would care or even dare to listen the very heart of his misery: “&lt;b&gt;HOW LONG UNTIL YOU REALIZE THAT I’M STILL HERE!?&lt;/b&gt;” Birds suddenly emerged from the steeple beside him in a panic, terrified from their slumber and stirred into cacophony by the sheer volume of the thinker’s speech. Who would have guessed that such a quiet, still thing could make such a raucous, they seemed to cry to one another. The man took no notice, still staring out over the rooftops that had consumed his attentions for hours on end, and yet still no closer to the answer to his question.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;“&lt;b&gt;A-all I want…&lt;/b&gt;” quiet sobs in every word forced any listener to bear witness to his pain and his suffering and his grief that he never before dared let show. “&lt;b&gt;…A-all I want…&lt;/b&gt;” he began again, his voice never reaching above a whisper, the words never meant to fall upon another human’s ear, “&lt;b&gt;…is to be yours.&lt;/b&gt;” Long black lashes blinked, obscuring for a moment eyes of indiscernible hue in the starlight then flashing back open and by the same light that by its very virtue hid all colour around him gave away the tears beginning to slowly trickle down his cheeks. A deep, shuddering breath. “&lt;b&gt;All I want is to be yours like he is… like she is like they all are but me.&lt;/b&gt;” The last was hurried, as if he’d lose courage to even say it aloud if he didn’t spit it out as fast as he humanly could. And then, silence.
&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;
And then, despair.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:fatedshadowmuse:19553</id>
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    <title>Bit number two!</title>
    <published>2006-03-07T10:13:18Z</published>
    <updated>2006-03-07T10:27:34Z</updated>
    <category term="airian"/>
    <lj:music>Three Days Grace</lj:music>
    <content type="html">&lt;h1 align="center"&gt;&lt;font face="Andy"&gt;The Welcome Car&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/h1&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;{{Muse: This isn't nearly up to the standards of writing that I've become accustomed to from reading Yuki's and Hikarikun's writing; but that's probably because they're both… well, really effing good writers. I'm not kidding in the least. Those two constantly both inspire me to try harder and put me to shame. It's all good though. It's still fun, writing, that is. But, yeah. I got bored and I wrote. More. To the same thing. Thanks to Yuki for the names! And I don't have a bottle this time. Nope. Instead, I get lots and lots of music. I liiiike music.}}&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Awakening with a grunt, Airian stared across the room in annoyance at the offender: his alarm clock. The glowing red numbers screamed: "WAKE UP!" and: "IT'S TIME TO GO!" and of course: "MOVE YOUR ASS YOU MORON!" and its blaringly loud squawks reminded him of a extremely ugly and rather ungainly bird as always. Why wouldn't it shut up? He staggered over, still half-asleep and brought his fist down on the annoying piece of technological wonder and yawned hugely.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;He rubbed at his cold blue eyes in hopes of dislodging the nightmares of the night before from his mind, stretching and groaning quietly. Where had the night gone? He felt like he hadn't slept a wink. Airian rubbed at his eyes again as he stumbled his way out of his room, feeling his way numbly down the hall to his bathroom. Airian groped for the doorknob in the pitch-black hallway and yawned again. He really hadn't slept all that well, Airian reflected as his fingertips finally located the elusive knob and then the light switch inside. Blinking at the sudden illumination, Airian's eyes were drawn irresistibly to the only thing in his bathroom that he truly disliked. The gigantic mirror covered a wall of the room and concealed his closet. The full-length mirror had been given to him by his parents. They seemed to think that he needed or wanted it. Airian peered at his reflected twin in pure disgust. White hair. For Christ's sake, who had white hair? The blue that tipped each silken strand only drew a snort and a glare from him. No matter what he had done to it, that ridiculous color couldn't be gotten rid of. His parents hated his hair, pointing out the stupidity of tipped hair and sneering down at him. They had tried everything, cutting it, dying it, everything they could think of to get rid of it. The dye didn't hold in the blue parts, and when you cut off the tips the new ends just changed color. If that wasn't enough to make his parents absolutely abhor him, Airian was sure that his eyes took care of the rest. "Demon eyes" his parents called them. What other way was there to describe them? Stepping closer to the mirror, Airian peered critically at his boxer-clad form. Ice blue eyes. That would be fine on its own. But then whatever power there was in this world decided that he wasn't enough of a freak already, and his eyes deserved something truly stupid looking. What kind of person had a blue ring around their iris, and then a grey one around the pupil? What kind of freak was he? His parents never stopped reminding him of his hideous features. Standing there in his boxers, Airian looked deadly. He was nothing of the sort, in his mind. Airian hated how he looked, and standing there in front of the mirror, he began to pick himself apart piece by piece, over and over. He built on every insult ever thrown his way, whether shouted or whispered, until he could barely see what he was insulting.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;A soft sigh escaped his lips as he turned away from the much-disliked reflection to the sanctuary of the shower. He turned on the water, and steam quickly fogged over the mirror and warmed the rather spacious room. He didn't want to see the object of his rage. Didn't want to pick himself apart. Not today. As he stepped into the relaxing heat, Airian let all such thoughts slip from his mind. The water washed away the worries, thoughts, ideas, hatred that his parents pounded into him from birth like it did so many things. Sometimes he thought that the only reason he was alive now was the hot water that came out of that nozzle. Thank God for the little things in this world that made it all worth it. Like hot showers. The moment of clarity that was so quickly forgotten. Like this.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Twenty minutes or so later, Airian stilled the soothing spray and groped for a towel on the racked placed conveniently next to the shower door: behavior learned from being attacked time and time again while naked by girls his parents chose for him. A small sigh escaped his lips. Airian couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have parents who weren't rich, and showed you that they cared about you as something other than as a pawn in their gigantic chess game to add more money to their already stuffed pockets. They didn't even care about their oldest son, preferring to dote upon the younger. It wasn't that they exactly neglected Airian. No, instead they chose to belittle and ridicule him at every turn. It wasn't enough that he never disobeyed them, and that he always excelled at everything asked of him. But, what other way was there for him? Sighing again, Airian grabbed a black shirt and pants, as usual, then reached for his black and silver belt. All the other clothes he would need were already packed away in the entry hall, no doubt being loaded into the car by the butler. He had wasted more time than he had expected in the shower and in his idle staring at himself, and to his dismay he discovered that he had no time for breakfast. Airian nearly tripped down the stairs as he tried to put on socks. &lt;i&gt;"Note to self: Do not try to put on socks while rushing down the stairs. Doing so can be dangerous to anyone or more probably, anything in the vicinity."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Finally making it down the stairs and into the limo without much more trouble, Airian closed his eyes and leaned back against the seat to reflect. His parents did not even offer him so much as a goodbye. Oh no. They were much too busy making sure that Daren had his every whim tended to. Airian was pretty sure that Daren had been throwing a fit because his milk had tasted funny, or something stupid and along those lines.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The plane ride was long and completely dull and uneventful. As was collecting his luggage, and then the taxi ride to the station. They went so well, in fact, that Airian began to wish that something would happen and break the dull monotony of perfection surrounding him. He was still wishing it when he grabbed his bags out of the car and entered the station.

As Airian advanced to the station's platform at a leisurely stride, he never met any eyes, head held high and proud. He was taught not to associate with anyone lesser than him and his family, and he intended to stick to it. Unless, of course, an insult was done to his or their honor. Then he was allowed to do anything and everything that he deemed was demanded by the insult. It wouldn't do for people to think that they could go above their station. A quick scan of the crowd told him that there was none that he could form a suitable relationship with. Only to be used for business purposes of course. No one really wanted to be his friend. No. They just wanted to gain his trust to use him as a ready source of information so that they may sabotage the family business. Airian couldn't have that. The business must be protected. At all costs. Like his parents said.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Tossing his bags into the nearest luggage bin, Airian stretched with a quiet groan and surveyed the cars before him. Which one would be… suitable? He stared for a moment before settling on the one in front of him. It looked, for the most, deserted. He walked with a stride that almost looked like it contained liquid grace in every step. Choosing a seat was no issue. The one furthest away from any other was immediately at hand, and just as quickly occupied by him. Reclining slightly, Airian fully intended to catch the sleep that had eluded him so handily the night before. He was away from his parents. That realization came as a breath of fresh air in and of itself, and he fully intended to make use of every moment of it. &lt;i&gt;"Starting… now."&lt;/i&gt; With that final thought, he shut his icy blue eyes and began to drift off as the train started with a short blast of the whistle, a rumble, a clank and a jerk; slowly making its way out of the station.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;Little did Airian know that there was no chance of him catching up on that sleep. He may have chosen the emptiest care on the train to his school, but there was a reason for its almost deserted interior. The six pranksters of the school had claimed this car as heir own, and no one in their right mind would want to be stuck in a car with them. Who could blame them? Pranksters in a confined space was a bad idea on its own, but throw Airian into the mix, and, well, things usually could be counted on becoming very interesting, very quickly.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;The mutters from the other end of the car went unobserved by Airian as he fell quickly to sleep. Nor did he take any note of the quiet laughter and various snickers that emanated from the only other people in the place. It was rather unfortunate, really, that he didn't realize that the Terrance himself had decided to give him his rousing welcome to his new high school.&lt;/p&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:fatedshadowmuse:19427</id>
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    <title>Hosnap. -whips outta thin air-</title>
    <published>2006-03-07T10:11:21Z</published>
    <updated>2006-03-07T10:19:42Z</updated>
    <category term="airian"/>
    <lj:music>If you'd believe it... "Under The Sea" Yes. Little Mermaid.</lj:music>
    <content type="html">&lt;h1 aling="center"&gt;&lt;font face="Andy"&gt;Cling-Free Zone&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/h1&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;“Uhh… Vivian?”&lt;/b&gt; You take yet another step back from the slowly approaching female. The glint in her eye when you spoke her name had you taking one shuffling step after another away from her, knowing full well you were literally backing into a corner. It was your birthday, of all days, and you parents saw it fit to set yet another one on you. At least, you assumed that she had their blessing. After all, she was very wealthy.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;“Yes, darling?”&lt;/b&gt; The ever-widening grin that played across her overly made up lips let you know how much space you had left. From the present width, you guessed about, oh, say four feet. This girl just wouldn’t take no for an answer, not that you could ever give it as one. Spoiled to the core; everything from her perfectly curled red hair, her carefully manicured fingernails, and her caked-on makeup to her three thousand dollar sandals and toe ring screamed “I’M A BITCH BUT I’M RICH!” or just that she was spoiled rotten. You couldn’t make up your mind, it was too busy wondering if the green of her eyes was indeed achieved through ink jetted contacts (only the most expensive kind, of course. Though you weren’t sure what kind that would be.) or if it was indeed a color that you could find in the normal world.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;“Are those natural?”&lt;/b&gt; Blinking, you realized that you had stopped moving back. You had become so interested in whether or not her eyes were really that green, you had forgotten what she was trying to get you to do. Before you could start trying to escape again, she was pressed up against you, rubbing against you and stealing a kiss from your lips. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;“Give them a little squeeze and find out, darling.”&lt;/b&gt; For a moment you wondered what she was talking about, then your eyes widened as it dawned on you. Oh god. She thought you were talking about… Those. That she was pressing up against you. Why did your parents have to pick the worst girls to set on you? Really. This one had to be the worst yet. You stumbled back a few steps in a last-ditch attempt to escape her. Unfortunately, it didn’t work. Now you were just stuck between a wall and a girl who seemed to think you actually liked her. You had to wonder, who lied to this freak and told her you cared?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Glancing frantically about you, you searched for something to distract her, to beat her over the head with, or to poison her with. Any of the three would be acceptable, though you would sure prefer the last one. Her hand was snaking its way up your shirt now, her nails making soft circles across your skin. Shuddering slightly in disgust, you considered just screaming “RAPE, RAPEEEE!!!!” over and over until somebody got the message that you did not like this clingy female figure, and that you wanted her to stop trying to get her hand down your pants. Like she was doing now. Again. Now how were you going to get out of this one? It wasn’t like someone was just going to—&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;“Vivian, Ai..r..”&lt;/b&gt; Your mother poked her head in, trailing off as she noticed the position you were in with the girl she had undoubtedly picked out for you. Of all people, she had to be the one with the scary psychic abilities. Of course. Trying to widen your eyes and appear pleading while not begging for her to rescue you was proving more difficult than you ever thought it would be. Not that you really expected any help. After all, she approved of this.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And she didn’t disappoint. After taking in the situation, she seemed to decide that the best course ofaction was: &lt;b&gt;“I’ll take care of sending your guests home. Nothing to worry about.”&lt;/b&gt; And then retreat with a smug grin on her face. Surely, this was just one big, extremely fucked up joke. There was no way that she just encouraged you to… without… Oh yeah. One problem. It wasn’t funny.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Vivian’s face looked about as smug as your mother’s. She was sure that you wouldn’t resist now, and that every shudder was a good sign. Umm, no. Step one: Keep the hand out of your pants. Step two: get the hand out of your shirt. Step three: get out from between this thing that was making you feel utterly violated and RUN. She was now licking her way down your neck, nipping slightly. Come on, think. Thiiiink. There has to be something to be done about this. That you can do without upsetting your parents enough to make them change their minds about sending you away to a boarding school for your last year of high school. There had to… AHA! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;“Vivian, is this really where you want to do this?”&lt;/b&gt; Those acting classes you had convinced your parents to let you take finally paid off as you did your best to act as if you wanted her, even though you all you really wanted to do was hurl. Vivian looked up at you with those far-too-green-for-any-force-of nature-to-have-created eyes and you couldn’t help but smile as you saw the answer to the question that probably got you into this mess. The verdict was in. Vivian wore contacts.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;She stopped raping the base of your neck reluctantly, much to your relief and looked up at you. &lt;b&gt;“Where then, darling?”&lt;/b&gt; Well, that was easier than you thought it would be. Taking her hand, you lead her over to the other side of the room, and out the door, down the hall, and grin back at her as you open a rather spacious closet. The smirk she returned was too much for you. Bowing slightly as to hide your laughter, you gestured her in: &lt;b&gt;“Ladies first.”&lt;/b&gt; Of course, buying ever word of it, Vivian steps in. And then has the door slammed at her back. Locking her in may be a bit much, but you did want to go to that school pretty badly. And you did feel like you needed a shower now, to wash away whatever she just tried to do to you: or the memory of it, at the very least. Jogging off to the other end of the rather large house, you decided to do just that. A nice hot shower, then a good night's sleep would be great.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;After the shower, you collapse gratefully onto your soft bed. It felt wonderful after a good hot shower, almost as if you were floating on a cloud. And, of course your mother had to have the most wonderful timing in the world and knock on your door. &lt;b&gt;“Do you need anything?”&lt;/b&gt; Meaning, do you need me to get you something so you can seduce Vivian better? Answer: &lt;b&gt;“No mom, I am fine. Thank you. Could I please not be interrupted from now on?”&lt;/b&gt; If that didn’t get her to leave you alone and let you sleep, you couldn’t figure out what would.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;p&gt;Shutting your eyes only for a moment, you suddenly sat up. &lt;b&gt;“ALARM CLOCK!”&lt;/b&gt; You had almost forgotten to set your alarm for six. You needed the extra time. You didn’t want to have to rush and forget something. After all, your parents were sure to make this as difficult as possible. Popping out of your very warm, and very comfortable bed you stagger over to the other side of the room that became the home of your alarm after you destroyed one because you couldn’t find the snooze button, making you subsequently very late for school that day. Tomorrow you didn’t want to be late for your plane. Oh no. That would be a disaster, as you had spent so much time trying to convince your parents to let you go. You’ve been looking forward to this since the beginning of summer vacation. The last thing you wanted to do was mess this up. Nearly staggering back to your bed, you flopped back down on it, arms outstretched and eyes shutting slowly as you drift off to sleep, wondering what it will be like to be among people who were normal. Not like you really knew anyone like that. In fact, you hardly knew anyone. &lt;i&gt;”But that’ll change. That’ll all change,”&lt;/i&gt; you think to yourself, the thought echoing in your head over and over as the sweet sanctity of sleep welcomes you in.&lt;/p&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:fatedshadowmuse:19055</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://fatedshadowmuse.livejournal.com/19055.html"/>
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    <title>Fucknotagain.</title>
    <published>2006-01-26T00:16:04Z</published>
    <updated>2006-01-26T00:20:29Z</updated>
    <lj:music>"When I'm Gone" - Eminem</lj:music>
    <content type="html">I need to emo log. &lt;br /&gt;Again.&lt;br /&gt;Why is it that when I am trying my hardest to succeed, I am always smacked down. Not when I am slacking off, but when I am working my ass off. &lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;center&gt;"And when I'm gone&lt;br /&gt;Just carry on.&lt;br /&gt;Don't mourn&lt;br /&gt;Rejoice&lt;br /&gt;Every time&lt;br /&gt;You hear the sound of my voice&lt;br /&gt;Just know that&lt;br /&gt;I'm looking down at you smiling.&lt;br /&gt;And I didn't feel a thing.&lt;br /&gt;So baby, don't feel the pain.&lt;br /&gt;Just smile back."&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly, that's starting do discribe me. It scares me. I refuse to let it. Nope. Just refuse. I refuse all of it. It doesn't exist, they don't exist, nothing can hurt me if it doesn't exist, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sadly enough, I cannot even complete this post.&lt;br /&gt;I miss you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~@lli</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:fatedshadowmuse:18755</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://fatedshadowmuse.livejournal.com/18755.html"/>
    <link rel="self" type="text/xml" href="http://fatedshadowmuse.livejournal.com/data/atom/?itemid=18755"/>
    <title>....Ah, the thoughts of one so easily annoyed.</title>
    <published>2006-01-21T22:01:05Z</published>
    <updated>2006-01-21T22:01:05Z</updated>
    <lj:music>...A paper shredder?</lj:music>
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  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:fatedshadowmuse:18519</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://fatedshadowmuse.livejournal.com/18519.html"/>
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    <title>Layout</title>
    <published>2006-01-21T21:31:00Z</published>
    <updated>2006-01-21T21:31:00Z</updated>
    <category term="random"/>
    <content type="html">. . .&lt;br /&gt;Looking at the colors I just used, I have come to a conclusion.&lt;br /&gt;EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW&lt;br /&gt;I need to re-do.&lt;br /&gt;When I get bored again, I shall.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:fatedshadowmuse:18298</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://fatedshadowmuse.livejournal.com/18298.html"/>
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    <title>No you don't, you just.....</title>
    <published>2006-01-21T06:40:15Z</published>
    <updated>2006-01-21T06:40:15Z</updated>
    <category term="random"/>
    <content type="html">I get to watch horror movies tomorrow with Yuki. lol. And yes, for anyone who did notice the previous colors I had up, I did change them. And I'm probably going to keep changing it. Why? I don't know. I like doing colors, I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like horror movies. I have become hooked. O.o' Not something that I've liked for very long, but really, I'm hooked. I love them. (nozombiesplzkthnks) And reall... what was the point of this? I had a point. Now I don't remember. Damnit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a habit of clinging to people, to the point that it is annoying to those around me. The solution I have found? "Santa" has brought me a plushie. It's a dog. It's cute. It's about a foot tall and yes I've been dragging it about. This also annoys the people around me, but it also probably embarasses them. Hm. I just now realized this. Hm. Oh well, it doubles quite well as a pillow. So now, I cling to the dog. XD Reaaaal mature, ain't I? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now, I'm tired and my attention span is gone. Crappy ass post. YUKI I LUFF YOU!!! xD You're so freaking funny when you're hyper. You're freaking funny when you're not too... but you're even funnier when you are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#C1CDCD"&gt;Albel, I miss yah bunches.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to bed now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#C1CDCD"&gt;Love you just as much.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;G'night!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-@lli</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:fatedshadowmuse:18055</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://fatedshadowmuse.livejournal.com/18055.html"/>
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    <title>ADIDAS AND UNDIES!</title>
    <published>2006-01-20T06:02:46Z</published>
    <updated>2006-01-20T06:04:39Z</updated>
    <category term="random"/>
    <lj:music>"Drive" Melissa Ferrick (was... a long with many more)</lj:music>
    <content type="html">Well, if you're reading this, you most likely have noticed that I got bored and began to change my color scheme. I realize it looks a bit odd right now, but I kinda got bored, and haven't gotten un-bored yet. And yes. It's pink. Why is it pink? Because I wanted to put up my current icon, and then decided to match my colours to it. I'm sure that there's a few of you who are wondering why the heck I didn't have a pinkaphobe attack while creating it, and honestly, I don't know. I just didn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to blame that on me like... I am going to have to admit it sometime, right? I've been acting somewhat more like a female. x-x' There. I said it. I've been acting somewhat closer to a female, anyway. As in: emotions? Like... I have now cried about an anime character dying. SESAME NOOO YOU DIED! And then came back but I still cried. o.o' Never done that before. That's okay, though. Probably was good for me. Has anyone gone to Chronicals of Narnia (sp?) yet? That would be the first, like, movie I've cried over. I have been going: ".... what? Since when do I do this?" for a while now. Oh well. Like I've said, it's probably good for me. After all, not being able to cry over &lt;b&gt;anything&lt;/b&gt; makes you come across as more than just a little insensitive at times. Which, I can be. I have issues with emotions. However, I am proud to announce that I'm getting the fuck over it. As I am many other things. Including my phobia of being called "cute". I blame my mother. &amp;gt;.&amp;gt;' So, yeah. Basically, my goal right now is to get the fuck over myself, and look good while doing it! You've gotta love the random shit I can pull outta my ass sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And others, I'm left wondering what I was thinking. The latter is the vast majority of my life. Screw-ups. Mistakes hang over my head in a looming cloud. Ooh. Literacy. I'm afraid. xD But, yes. I mess-up a lot. The people who know me best probably don't need to be told that, as they've seen exactly how much of a dumbass and an insensitive fucktard I can be. I can only hope that maybe, at some point, the have noticed something better, and that's why they stick around. Not out of pity. If you stay around me because of pity, because you think that I need your sympathy, because I cannot seem to keep anyone as a friend for any length of time, or maybe you see a charity case. . .  I don't want you around me. I do not need your sympathy. I do not need any more people looking down at me and going: "The poor thing, she'll never amount to anything," because trust me, I have enough of that. I don't want you around me if you'll do that to me. I do not want you anywhere near me, really. I do not want to have to . . . to worry about myself, I suppose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah. Myself. I tell others not to worry about me constantly, and that I'll be okay. It's true, I will be fine. I always am. But it just seems a bit odd to me that I tell others that when I usually can't help myself. Eh, I guess that this way, not so many people need to stress over it. I would rather not have people stressing out over me. Yeah, I am going to do completely idiotic things. There is nothing that you can do to prevent that from happening. I'm a dumbass. I'm going to suffer the consiquences of my dumbassery. Let me do that and then move on. No need to linger over the past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yuki has done a multitude of interesting things. Including get high off of Adidas. That's funny. I love Yuki. I interrogated her on the subject of her underware. xD&lt;br /&gt;See? You are mentioned.&lt;br /&gt;Captian Albel Nox, I miss ya!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="cutid1"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now I go offline. Haha. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-@lli</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:fatedshadowmuse:17673</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://fatedshadowmuse.livejournal.com/17673.html"/>
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    <title>Just needed to test hexes. &amp;lt;3</title>
    <published>2006-01-15T08:32:16Z</published>
    <updated>2006-01-16T01:33:34Z</updated>
    <category term="random"/>
    <lj:music>All</lj:music>
    <content type="html">. . .&lt;br /&gt;I have two art projects to do tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;Two.&lt;br /&gt;With paint, I could do this.&lt;br /&gt;WAIT! It's Monday off. Okay. All better. Two days. I can do that. I wish I had remembered to grab paint from the art room and paper to use. Oh well, it's too late now. ^^&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes. I prefer to paint over draw, and I don't know why. I guess it's because you can correct when you paint as many times as you need to, and you can re-do it. You can only erase a line so many times, and sometimes not at all if you push too hard. It's a pain. Yuki's drawings look awsome. Really. ^.^&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, yes. I have obsessive-compulsive disorder when it comes to drawing. And painting. O.o Yeah. I can be a little perfectionist. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An odd thought. Alli being a perfectionist. Yes, I can be a perfectionist. I can be many things that most people never see. Why? Because. You just don't. Just like you don't want to look into the pit of my room. Perfectionist. . . sometimes. That's the key word. There is a catch, always a catch. It doesn't matter where you go, what you're doing, I've always found a catch. Let me correct that: always in the situations that come to mind at the moment. Cynical, no?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate cynical people.&lt;br /&gt;They're so annoying.&lt;br /&gt;They always find the dark side of things.. . .&lt;br /&gt;Wait. I just called myself a cynic, and now I'm . . . complaining about them and saying I hate them? What? So do I like, hate myself? Because that would be a lie and then I'd be a hypocrite all over again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate hypocrites too.&lt;br /&gt;They're so fucking annoy. . .&lt;br /&gt;. . .&lt;br /&gt;I'm a hypocrite. A big one. I guess I do hate myself after all! I hope I hate myself lovingly. If I hated myself violently, I might have problems. I hope it's loving!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know what? For all you people out there, eating dinner is a good thing. A short attention span and distractibility are bad. I spaced that I had ramen to eat. I didn't have dinner. Oops. O.o' Weird thing to forget, but I do it. Sharpies are good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For your soul.&lt;br /&gt;Which I shall steal.&lt;br /&gt;Goodnight!&lt;br /&gt;(Even though I'm not going to sleep yet!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~@lli</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:fatedshadowmuse:17633</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://fatedshadowmuse.livejournal.com/17633.html"/>
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    <title>Don't push me. I will push back.</title>
    <published>2006-01-13T06:47:23Z</published>
    <updated>2006-01-15T08:43:25Z</updated>
    <category term="anger"/>
    <content type="html">Why the hell would someone do that? What kind of . . Arg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not having a good day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Allow me to explain. I am living in House Sleep Deprivation at the moment. That means I'm fucking tired, cranky, and downright volitile in the first place. So, on a normal non-sleep-deprived day, I could probably deal with all of this shit. But right now, I'm tired. So fucking sue me if I'm a bit over-emotional. Fuck you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Woke up late(ish). That means I had to rush. I am not a morning person. I do not move fast in the morning. I don't fucking care what's going on. If I'm tired, I'm not going to move with any seblance of speed. So, fuck you. I woke up late, got to school after Yuki, and forgot my cell. I still don't know where in my room my iPod is. My bed swallowed it. Stupid fucker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, school and I'm already in a bad mood. Health class. Joy. I study for the fact quiz in under three minutes, for the first time can't remember a freaking term, and have given Yuki my last pencil. Because I love her. Teachers get to have fun trying to read the ultra-fine sharpies I have been writing with all day. Not my problem. CPR is boring shit when you already know it all. And the AED was entertaining, I guess. "Breathe...................................................Breathe."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On to math. Interesting happening in the hall I was informed of by Yuki. It made me laugh. We have agreed, multiple times over, that so many coincidences simply do not happen, not so close together. Math class sucked. You do not try to do math in Sharpie. It does not work if you make a mistake. And I just did NOT want to do math. Stupid math. It's so fucked up. I used to like math, too. Then high school came about, and now I just don't care. Fucker. Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;History or whatever you wanna call it. Honestly. If we are going to play a review game, and it's a GAME and you have the answers RIGHT THERE, you should TRY, right? Apparently, not. I was the one who did most of the random guessing. Though there is one that I did get a good laugh off. (got to go: ~saunter, saunter, scribble, smirk~) Don't think I've ever smirked before. O.o' I had a self-satisfied moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lunch. Lunch lines too long. Got used as a foot stool, a see-saw, smacked for it, even though I was simply holding still with my head in someone's lap. Why I got smacked for passively entertaining someone, I do not know.  Apparently, I look like a gerbil from one angle, and I am a guine pig. Joy. Spec fucking tacular, I'm a rodent. I do not like them on the whole. I'm not afraid of them, but they are not my favorite. Go figure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;English: Thank you to Yuki. I would simply not have done all those notes. I would have just refused. I'm a lazy ass like that. But I had an hour to do absolutely nothing. I think I fell asleep for a bit. Whatever. I used the doggie plushie thingy I've (for some odd reason) felt the need to drag about for the past - what? Two weeks? Whatever. Anna is jealous of me. I am odd enough to just drag about a plushie that I'll snuggle, and everyone else can go to hell. I'm tired, and I'm STILL FUCKING SICK. Only lethargy now, though. FYI: If you want to talk to me, you may have to be the one who IMs me for once. Why? Because I'm not feeling like being particuarly talkitive. Odd for me. If you get on, talk to me. It'd probably be funny for whoever you are reading this, because I'll be quiet, calm, and literate. For the most part. It takes too much energy to be hyper and random.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get home, and life isn't too bad. What really ruined my day happened. I had put a lot of time into creating a plotline that I think is really, really good for Albel. I don't know if it actually is, but he's using it, so I guess it is. . .? I had turned to one of my closer friends while I was writing it for help, advice and critiques, and the like. I had told her what I was doing with it and all. It's for an RP site. This closer friend, about six months later, has the adacity to use it for an RP thread on Gaia, and send me a link to it. Not ask me, nothing. Whilst no, it is not exactly my plot, it is close enough that it can be considered . . . She did not even ask me. She said that I had not finished it, when I had. She said that I did not tell her what I was going to use it for, when I had. She said that Albel was not around then, when HE WAS THE FUCKING REASON I WAS WRITING THE GOD DAMNED THING!  The way she worded it in the pm she sent me, she knew I would be upset. Her reason behind doing this? That it was her little way of working on the plot. You know what? I've been annoyed for reasons I fail to pinpoint. I am now very pissed about something that should not have happened in the first place, as it was my idea. She called once, I declined to talk to her. Twice, and through my brother she told me to take my friendship and shove it up my ass. Don't tell me to do things like that when I am angry with you. That's exactly what I'll do to you. I no longer consider this person my friend. You do not steal from your friends. I know she plans to yell at me tomorrow. She's never seen me yell back. Poor her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm pissed off. She's fucked now.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:fatedshadowmuse:17242</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://fatedshadowmuse.livejournal.com/17242.html"/>
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    <title>SHARPIES MAKE ME HAPPY WHEN SKYS ARE GREY!</title>
    <published>2006-01-09T03:32:41Z</published>
    <updated>2006-01-09T03:33:06Z</updated>
    <category term="random"/>
    <content type="html">Wow. Bored.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ways/things you can make me happy:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;x&gt; Give me bubbles and someone to blow them with&lt;br /&gt;&lt;x&gt; Give me chocolate. Good chocolate, not the crappy-ass chocolate coins you get at Christmas. Blehck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;x&gt; Make me laugh. Shouldn't be that hard to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;x&gt; Laugh. Simple.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;x&gt; Gimmeh shiny stuff! This could be anything that's shiny. Literally. I'm easy like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;x&gt; I &amp;lt;3 plushies, oddly enough. o.o'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;x&gt; Sharpies, or other ways to color on things provide endless entertainment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;x&gt; DDR. I suck but I still love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;x&gt; Put up with me. That would be a good thing. Love you all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And why I just did that, I don't know. That's okay. Boredom is just fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ooh! People online! I don't remember what I was going to say now, nor do I care.&lt;br /&gt;Bye personage who's reading this!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-@lli</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:fatedshadowmuse:16888</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://fatedshadowmuse.livejournal.com/16888.html"/>
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    <title>fatedshadowmuse @ 2006-01-01T22:05:00</title>
    <published>2006-01-02T05:31:39Z</published>
    <updated>2006-01-02T05:31:39Z</updated>
    <category term="random"/>
    <lj:music>"Anything But Ordinary" by Avril Lavigne</lj:music>
    <content type="html">&lt;i&gt;&lt;center&gt;"Sometimes I get so weird, I even freak myself out. I laugh myself to sleep, it's my lullaby . . ."&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've seen it from the other side of the mirror now. It's scary. Extremely so. I never realized that. . . it looked so weird. I suppose that I've simply not been thinking, but then again, when do I ever?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;center&gt;"Sometimes I drive so fast just to feel the danger. I wanna scream it makes me feel alive. . ."&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Truly, I act like a dumbass. I don't know if it would come as a suprise to any of you if I told you I am actually not an idiot. I just do it. . . to make people laugh. But it's gotten to the point where people don't think that they can actually have a normal conversation with me, &lt;b&gt;because&lt;/b&gt; of that. Not true. It's hard for me to be serious, yes. It's difficult for me not to make myself a target for your laughter, but yes, given the reason I can and do do complete such a feat. It is possible to have a normal, literate conversation with me. I just -- don't like having them, I suppose. Usually that signals that I'm in trouble. Joy. Trouble. Run for your life. o.o;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;center&gt;"Is it enough to love? Is it enough to breath? Somebody rip my heart out and leave me here to bleed. . ."&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Emo-induced literacy. Is it a boon or a curse? Mayhaps a bit of both? You may note, that I never talk to people like this. I still wear my happy mask, for most people. There are some that when I'm upset, they will actually know that I'm upset, unless I'm afraid to show them for some reason. Yeah, that kinda seems stupid, doesn't it? Afraid to use someone's shoulder to cry on, even if they've said you can? That's because it is stupid. It's absolutely retarded, but I still do it. That's right. You'd never know if I'm actually crying as I make you laugh. However, that's how I want it. I want to be able to make anyone I am speaking with chortle, regardless of my own feelings at the time. Laughter: It's the most valuable sound in the world. If you can make someone laugh, you are worth something. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;center&gt;"Is it enough to die? Somebody save my life. I'd rather be anything but ordinary, please. . ."&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, have I ever made you laugh? Even once? I hope I have. And I hope that when people read this I don't come across as some kind of emo-tastic whore. I'm not. Usually. And even then, I'll only do the second part for a single person. And he's not on. D&amp;lt; WHY ARE YOU NOT ON I WANT TO M. . . -cuts self off- Well, goodnight, as I have school tomorrow. Bye!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-@lli</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:fatedshadowmuse:16429</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://fatedshadowmuse.livejournal.com/16429.html"/>
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    <title>REVERSE! REVERSE!</title>
    <published>2005-12-31T23:00:49Z</published>
    <updated>2005-12-31T23:00:49Z</updated>
    <category term="random"/>
    <lj:music>iPod has it all!</lj:music>
    <content type="html">Chacha now ya'll!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have discovered a good reason not to let me have my iPod. I have all my songs on it. O.o; And it fits in my pocket. And so, I'm playing "Cha Cha Slide" by DJ Casper. The remix. And I'm like . . . WEEEEEEE TAKE IT BACK NOW YA'LL! And it's hard to do chores. But that's okay. It's amusing and I like it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm proud of myself. I figured it out before Yuki could. I'm sure that she could have figured it out before me, though, if she had as much time as I did. O.o; REVERSE REVERSE! Cha cha now ya'll!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah. I like this new toy. Bit dangerous for anyone that HEYPLAYAGAIN has to be near me, because I don't think I'm quite as aware of my surroundings as I should be. I've already ran into three walls today. I'm not kidding. THEY POPPED OUT OF NOWHERE! I WASN'T AT FAULT! I am so glad no one's here to watch. I'm probably a really funny sight, as I have like, really annoying coughing fits and I'm trying to like, dance. FREEZE! -frozen- EVERYBODY CLAP YOUR HANDS! Okay. -plugs it in- Now, That's enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I'm sick on New Year's Eve. But I'm not as sick as I sound, thank goodness. That would stink. But, I don't think I get to go anywhere, or do anything with anyone. Yuki's sick too. Much worse off than me. Worried about her I am. . . . And no I did not just mean to sound like Yoda. Bite me! &amp;lt;3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now I'm off. To go get Ramen. I like Ramen. Hahahaa. Bubies!</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:fatedshadowmuse:16202</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://fatedshadowmuse.livejournal.com/16202.html"/>
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    <title>fatedshadowmuse @ 2005-12-25T19:34:00</title>
    <published>2005-12-26T03:47:45Z</published>
    <updated>2005-12-26T03:47:45Z</updated>
    <category term="random"/>
    <lj:music>Dream a Dream - Captain Jack - DDR</lj:music>
    <content type="html">I have had a Christmas. Yay. Of late, I have noticed that the fun is being sucked out of holidays for me. I mean it. It's not that they're no fun, on the contrary, you're getting free stuff for the majority of them, or you get off school, or something of the kind. What I mean is simply that they seem less fun than they used to. Like they mean less. Maybe because they're slowly becoming more commmercialized, like you HAVE to go all-out to enjoy what each holiday truly means. I feel sorry for the kids NOW. They're getting pounded with all these extreme marketing techniques, and if the last batch spawned me, I don't want to know what kind of wack-jobs are going to turn out from these.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a slinky.&lt;br /&gt;And an iPod.&lt;br /&gt;Only problem with the last one, is that ALL of my music files, ALL OF THEM, are MP3. Great choice, hu? iPod + MP3 = no working music. Which bites, but that's OK. I'll find a file conversion program somewhere. -nod- It's still an awesome Christmas present.&lt;br /&gt;Oooh I like this song. -puts in music- ,3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Boy you're making me scream . . ."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-plots- ,3 Oh yeah, this would be why you shouldn't leave me to my own devices to entertain myself. You never know what'll happen. ,3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like that smiley. ,3 -adopts- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do people find it appropriate to give me a shirt that says: "Hand over the chocolate and nobody gets hurt"? I mean, I would NEVER kill someone over chocolate. That would be stupid. I would kill SOME people over something else and just use that as an excuse, yes. But not over chocolate itself. I would just take it and run off laughing to find myself a dark corner in which to eat my ill-gotten spoils.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Awww! It's so cute until you realize that she's just after the food!"&lt;br /&gt;-Jess&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... wasn't me. -steals whatever you wish you were eating- ,3 Yummeh.&lt;br /&gt;I want ramen. We have none. I am sad. Off to go mope in a corner with my yoyo and my new books! &amp;lt;3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I have FFVIII Pfffffbt!)</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:fatedshadowmuse:15951</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://fatedshadowmuse.livejournal.com/15951.html"/>
    <link rel="self" type="text/xml" href="http://fatedshadowmuse.livejournal.com/data/atom/?itemid=15951"/>
    <title>GOLDFISH! THEY SMILE BACK! IT'S TRUE!</title>
    <published>2005-12-12T06:38:47Z</published>
    <updated>2005-12-12T06:38:47Z</updated>
    <content type="html">Until you bite their cheddery little heads off. Then they can't smile, as they have no face to smile with. It always makes me feel better. Cheeedder! I have a plate of goldfish. And now I'm going to sleep. I want a brownie! BROWNIE! Yummah. G'night!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-@lli</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:fatedshadowmuse:15624</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://fatedshadowmuse.livejournal.com/15624.html"/>
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    <title>What the? Heart shaped lip gloss?</title>
    <published>2005-12-03T06:24:15Z</published>
    <updated>2005-12-03T06:24:15Z</updated>
    <content type="html">Okay. Bogus is open, finally. But my day has sucked, for the part that has mattered. Aka, as far as I'm concerned, I had a crappy day. Buuuut! Yuki can come over now. And I'm happy. But still sad. But I hooope she's coming sooooo . . . I can be  happy and we'll be up late and yes. Funnah. Happpy. Bounce. Ypera;lk jfviow okay. Out of my system. ^^; Snoooow. Okay. Happy. ^_^ Hope she can come. And I want to know who has a denwa b. . phone number. Tooo much Ni-Japanese class. Oookay. Scarah.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:fatedshadowmuse:15521</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://fatedshadowmuse.livejournal.com/15521.html"/>
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    <title>Poemness for me! Squee! No, don't care if you read it. xD</title>
    <published>2005-11-29T20:55:17Z</published>
    <updated>2005-11-29T20:55:17Z</updated>
    <category term="poem"/>
    <category term="poems"/>
    <content type="html">Among Angels&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My children, don’t you cry&lt;br /&gt;I did what I could&lt;br /&gt;For each of you&lt;br /&gt;To make your world a kinder place&lt;br /&gt;A better place for all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was in love&lt;br /&gt;Young and reckless&lt;br /&gt;I broke the rules.&lt;br /&gt;I fled from my parent’s will&lt;br /&gt;Flung myself into the arms of my love&lt;br /&gt;Who now I shall lie beside&lt;br /&gt;Together in death, inseparable in life&lt;br /&gt;True love is undestroyable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, my children&lt;br /&gt;Dry your tearful eyes&lt;br /&gt;I will not be alone&lt;br /&gt;We will not be separated&lt;br /&gt;For all that long.&lt;br /&gt;But until we meet again&lt;br /&gt;I’ll watch over each of you&lt;br /&gt;Whilst I sing the Lord’s praises&lt;br /&gt;In his loving arms&lt;br /&gt;I shall be your guardian angel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you feel forgotten&lt;br /&gt;Simply look up to the sky&lt;br /&gt;And remember that I’m there&lt;br /&gt;Looking back at you.&lt;br /&gt;If you cry yourself to sleep&lt;br /&gt;Afraid and alone&lt;br /&gt;I will be sitting beside you&lt;br /&gt;Letting you know&lt;br /&gt;That I will never abandon you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My children&lt;br /&gt;Do not mourn my passing&lt;br /&gt;I dance among saints now&lt;br /&gt;I am in a place of infinite beauty&lt;br /&gt;And among this, I am your angel&lt;br /&gt;Never cry from the sadness of my leaving&lt;br /&gt;Celebrate the time you have&lt;br /&gt;Before you too join me&lt;br /&gt;In the arms of our Lord.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My darlings, I love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-@lli</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:fatedshadowmuse:15096</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://fatedshadowmuse.livejournal.com/15096.html"/>
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    <title>fatedshadowmuse @ 2005-11-21T17:11:00</title>
    <published>2005-11-22T01:10:57Z</published>
    <updated>2005-11-22T01:10:57Z</updated>
    <category term="random"/>
    <category term="randomness"/>
    <lj:music>Slim Shady</lj:music>
    <content type="html">I haven't updated here for a bit. Sorry! I am actually alive, so far this winter. I plan to do enough stupid things to challenge that, though. Dunno why. I just feel like doing stupid things. I wonder if it's possible to get myself killed in a snowball fight? Hm. I just may have to try that. xD &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, I'm looking forward to winter. It needs to snow, like, now. Because I want to go and snowboard, and I want to make a snowman, and a snow angel, and I want to have a snowball fight, and make a snowfort and go sledding. . . and just a bunch of things that I haven't done in a year, or longer. I really want to go sledding and snowboarding. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I'll wait. I don't really have a choice. I can't change the weather. . .yet. -evil scientist laugh- Yes, but you don't need to know about that. No you don't. Anyhow. I'm bored now, and I'm going to annoy Ed by not using an LJ cut. Why do I do this? I don't know. I just like annoying Ed. -grin-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now to go attempt to rap and dance to "Slim Shady", failing miserably! Toodles!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-@lli</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:fatedshadowmuse:14613</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://fatedshadowmuse.livejournal.com/14613.html"/>
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    <title>Yet again, I'm going to make it long as fuck just to annoy Ed.</title>
    <published>2005-11-09T08:00:15Z</published>
    <updated>2005-11-09T08:00:47Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&lt;i&gt;&lt;center&gt;I'm tugging at my hair&lt;br /&gt;I'm pulling at my clothes&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying to keep my cool&lt;br /&gt;I know it shows&lt;br /&gt;I'm staring at my feet&lt;br /&gt;My cheeks are turning red&lt;br /&gt;I'm searching for the words inside my head&lt;br /&gt;'Cuz I'm feeling nervous&lt;br /&gt;Trying to be so perfect&lt;br /&gt;'Cuz I know you're worth it...you're worth it...yeah&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like, me. . but marriage obsessed. O.o; Fucking hell. Tired. I need sleep. But I won't, because I'm at my mom's and I can't. I just. . . I am sleep deprived when I'm over here. I mean, really. My body is telling me to go to fucking sleep, but . . I can't. Oh well. No way fucking out. Joy. Fucking legal system sucks. They need to go a forest and get lost. The fuck? I don't know. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;center&gt;If I could say what I want to say&lt;br /&gt;I'd say I want to blow you... away&lt;br /&gt;Be with you every night&lt;br /&gt;Am I squeezing you too tight?&lt;br /&gt;If I could say what I want to see&lt;br /&gt;I want to see you go down on one knee...&lt;br /&gt;Marry me today! &lt;br /&gt;Guess I'm wishing my life away...&lt;br /&gt;With these things I'll never say&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find weird ways to entertain myself sometimes. The good news is that they may be stupid, or just plain dangerous, but they will work! Usually. . . sometimes. For a while. I burned my lips. Now they feel weird. But you can't tell unless you look at the sides of my mouth, for two little burns. &amp;gt;.&amp;lt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;center&gt;It don't do me any good&lt;br /&gt;It's just a waste of time&lt;br /&gt;What use is it to you, what's on my mind?&lt;br /&gt;If it ain't comin' out&lt;br /&gt;We're not goin' anywhere&lt;br /&gt;So why can't I just tell you that I care?&lt;br /&gt;'Cuz I'm feeling nervous&lt;br /&gt;Trying to be so perfect&lt;br /&gt;'Cuz I know you're worth it...you're worth it...yeah&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somehow, tonight, I ended up with only one working pen. This in and of itself is weird, but then it gets even odder. It's pink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;center&gt;If I could say what I want to say&lt;br /&gt;I'd say I want to blow you... away&lt;br /&gt;Be with you every night&lt;br /&gt;Am I squeezing you too tight?&lt;br /&gt;If I could say what I want to see&lt;br /&gt;I want to see you go down on one knee&lt;br /&gt;Marry me today!&lt;br /&gt;Guess I'm wishing my life away...&lt;br /&gt;With these things I'll never say&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This Saturday can't come soon enough. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;center&gt;What's wrong, with my tongue&lt;br /&gt;These words keep slippin' away...&lt;br /&gt;I stutter...I stumble&lt;br /&gt;Like I've got nothin' to sa-ay...&lt;br /&gt;I'm feelin' nervous&lt;br /&gt;Tryin' to be so perfect&lt;br /&gt;'Cuz I know you're worth it...&lt;br /&gt;You're worth it...yeah&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/center&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:fatedshadowmuse:13847</id>
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    <title>Weird.</title>
    <published>2005-11-07T00:09:45Z</published>
    <updated>2005-11-07T00:09:45Z</updated>
    <category term="random"/>
    <content type="html">I was asked to help with the strangest thing today. Especially considering who the request came from. O.o; Will make longer later. Bubies!</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:fatedshadowmuse:13681</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://fatedshadowmuse.livejournal.com/13681.html"/>
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    <title>fatedshadowmuse @ 2005-11-04T22:12:00</title>
    <published>2005-11-05T05:11:27Z</published>
    <updated>2006-01-16T01:38:41Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&lt;img src="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b360/FatedShadowMuse/gummibearporn.jpg" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com"&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:fatedshadowmuse:13348</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://fatedshadowmuse.livejournal.com/13348.html"/>
    <link rel="self" type="text/xml" href="http://fatedshadowmuse.livejournal.com/data/atom/?itemid=13348"/>
    <title>Bitch/worry/emo log, most likely.</title>
    <published>2005-11-05T00:59:04Z</published>
    <updated>2005-11-05T02:13:50Z</updated>
    <category term="emo"/>
    <lj:music>Lots of metallica, for some reason.</lj:music>
    <content type="html">God, sometimes I wonder how the hell it piles up the way it does. Fucking sleep deprivation last night, due to, I'm ashamed to admit, a nighmare. &amp;gt;.&amp;lt; Night before, I was just not sleeping. My fault entirely. Now, to tell you all what's happening and assaulting my tired, cranky, and slightly emo mind due to only seeing the saaaad parts of "Lilo and Stich". Jan has to go in for her second surgery, and get a replacement hip. She's more then just slightly animic right now, due to a reason that would most likely be considered personal enough by her I don't think she'd appreciate me sharing. Now, Mollie is my dog. She needs knee surgery. Yes, my dog needs surgery at the same time as my stepmom. I was pretty concerened about them, and then yesterday Jan went to get some tests, blood drawn, visit some doctors. On her way back, she got dizzy, nearly passing out. Thank god she made it to her mom's okay. I was called and informed of this at some time I can't remember at the moment, I didn't look at the clock. Yuki was over at the time, and I'm glad that she was. Thank you, Yuki. What caused Jan to pass out on her way home? I don't fucking know. Yuki had been saying something about a disease that is among woman and spreading like wildfire and her mom is worried about that, and now I have to wonder. I keep fucking burning myself in welding. Last two classes totaled four major burns, a fuck load of minor, and a wirebrush scare. No blood involved in any, luckily. Then I would have lost welding time. What worries me about this is that I noticed while I welded today that I'm starting to grab hot metal and not really. . . I'm not sure if I don't feel it as much, or I simply have stopped caring. Seriously, people. I almost burnt my fucking lips, I have small burns across BOTH of my hands (half of them are already gone, gotta love my body's resilance) and when they say to quench your metal thoroughly, they tell you to do so for a reason. &lt;br /&gt;God I feel like shit. I need something known as sleep, I guess. Not like I'm going to be getting much of it tonight. Going to be too fucking busy worrying. I hate worrying. Makes me feel like shit. Just like fucking worst case scenarios. Those are the ones that always occor, aren't they. Is mortality, humanity a sin?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and just in case you're reading this, I leave at seven fucking thirty, happy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even if it kills me, I'm gonna smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-@lli</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:fatedshadowmuse:12810</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://fatedshadowmuse.livejournal.com/12810.html"/>
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    <title>Yuki's homework is getting posted here.</title>
    <published>2005-11-03T22:47:07Z</published>
    <updated>2005-11-04T00:47:46Z</updated>
    <category term="homework"/>
    <lj:music>Anything and everything Yuki puts up &lt;3</lj:music>
    <content type="html">Yes, it is. So yeah. &lt;a name="cutid1"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Empty&lt;br /&gt;Without purpose&lt;br /&gt;It is how I have always been.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s all fake&lt;br /&gt;Dreams weakened to make fragile hope&lt;br /&gt;Hope that will never be fulfilled&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I’m empty&lt;br /&gt;Without purpose&lt;br /&gt;It is how I have always been.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sewing together my nightmares&lt;br /&gt;No where left for me to run&lt;br /&gt;They always find me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I’m empty&lt;br /&gt;Without purpose&lt;br /&gt;It is how I have always been.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What makes it dark or light?&lt;br /&gt;Foolish reason&lt;br /&gt;My reasoning is without weight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I am empty&lt;br /&gt;Without purpose&lt;br /&gt;It is how I have always been.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is by Yuki. Love it or die a horrible, painful, candycane induced death. -grins evily- Yes, I love Yuki. LOVE THE POEM OR DIIIIE!!! -pulls out a candycane and brandishes-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I really need to know I learned in Drama&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dreams come true, especially on stage!&lt;br /&gt;Don’t be afraid to be weird, there’s always someone weirder.&lt;br /&gt;Humiliation is a form of adjustment and endearment.&lt;br /&gt;Even stage managers aren’t perfect.&lt;br /&gt;You can be someone different if you try.&lt;br /&gt;You won’t always get the part you want.&lt;br /&gt;Capture the part you do get, make it your own!&lt;br /&gt;Even the small part can steal the show.&lt;br /&gt;If you thought BAND was freaky, join drama!&lt;br /&gt;No one’s perfect and it’s funny to listen to people mess up when you know you will too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's her creedo. &amp;lt;3 Yuki! So true! All of it! -luffles on- xD; Now, I want to see the walden questions. . . ^^&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table width="350" align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2"&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FF9900" align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style="color:black; font-size: 14pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You Are Scary&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFD79A"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.blogthings.com/howscaryareyouquiz/scary.jpg" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You even scare scary people sometimes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/howscaryareyouquiz/"&gt;How Scary Are You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I am.&lt;br /&gt;Yes, yes I am.&lt;br /&gt;^^;&lt;br /&gt;-@lli</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:fatedshadowmuse:12585</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://fatedshadowmuse.livejournal.com/12585.html"/>
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    <title>fatedshadowmuse @ 2005-11-03T01:14:00</title>
    <published>2005-11-03T08:16:04Z</published>
    <updated>2005-11-03T08:16:04Z</updated>
    <lj:music>"Here Without You" by 3 Doors Down</lj:music>
    <content type="html">I just realized that my dreams always either delight or terrify me in some way, if not both. Dude, I hate and/or love my mind. It's fucking creepy, but prolly the fucking funniest thing I could have to entertain myself. Squee! Back to writing, now.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:fatedshadowmuse:11960</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://fatedshadowmuse.livejournal.com/11960.html"/>
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    <title>Mak and Zack</title>
    <published>2005-11-02T04:08:47Z</published>
    <updated>2005-11-03T03:23:14Z</updated>
    <category term="stories"/>
    <lj:music>Umm, lots. As usual.</lj:music>
    <content type="html">Was written for a dark romantic skit for English. Eh, yeah. You'll see how that turned out. You'll get some info on who I got the characters, or their names from at the bottom. It would kinda ruin it, to explain. Mak is in a long, black cloak. The hood casts a deep shadow, so you can’t see even a bit of the face beneath. Quite cool looking, it came from my list of things I want to get or make. xD;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="cutid1"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak: -Evil laugh- My plan is working! Soon, the entirety of the fabric industry shall b. . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: Um, excuse me. . .-steps out from behind a curtain- Is this the little boy’s room?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak: . . . . . Alright. Number one, you interrupted me telling anyone within hearing about my evil plan. A&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: -interrupts- Oh, I did? I’m so sorry. I can assure you that I had no intention of. . .   –trails off, noting the deep hood of the cloak aimed at him.-  I just interrupted you again, didn’t I?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak: Erm, yes, you did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: Oh, I do apologize, I am sorry, Mr. . . Say, I don’t think I ever caught your name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak: Most people know me as Mak, bu. . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: -grabs Mak's hand, shaking it heartily- Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Mak! Coincidentally, my name is Zack. Isn't it funny how that sort of thing tends to happen?  Anyway, -releases Mak's hand, and takes a step back- was there another reason that you were going to list for me? Because hurry up. I REALLY gotta GOoooooooo. . . -insert peepee dance- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak: -looking at Zack in disbelief- . . . Right. . . Yes. Well, Zack. . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: You can call me Zachary if you want!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak: . . . No, Zack works.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: Why not? Do you not LIKE my name?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak: No. It’s a very pretty name. . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: PRETTY?!?!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak: -hurriedly corrects self- Cool, I meant cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: It didn’t sound like you meant cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak: Well, I did. Mov. . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: If you say so. . . –trails off-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak: I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: Alright.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak: Now, shut up!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: -looks at Mak in surprise- . . . okay. . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak: -clears throat- The last reason. . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: It’s not like I don’t LIKE my name. Zack is a pretty awesome name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak: Zack?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: Yeeees?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak: Do you want to know a secret?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: Well, I dunno. Is it your secret to tellllll?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak: Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: -opens mouth-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak: It’s a cool secret, Zack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: Do TELLLLL!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak: Alrighty. . .-leans in-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: -leans in-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak: Well, you see. . . –whips off the long, dark cloak- I’M A GIRL!  -laughs evily-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: Ahhh!!! –looks downward- I don’t have to go anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak: . . . . . –stares-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: . . . not like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak: . . . Oookay. . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: -stares back- Heeeey. . . You’re a giiiiirl!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak: . . . Yes. A girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: -continues staring- And your name’s Mak?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak: It’s actually Makenzie, thanks for asking. –looks about for a way to occupy or distract this annoying Zack so she can complete her evil plan, and hits upon a solution- Hey, Zack. . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: Yesm?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak: Would you like to hit this big, bright, shiny red button for me? –points to said tantalizingly huge button on a control panel-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: Would I EVER! –slams a fist down on the said button-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak: -laughs evily-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: -looks around at her, completely serious, with his fist still on the button, holding it in- Don’t do that again. You sound evil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak: -not really paying attention, is waiting for the alert to let her know she’s succeeded.- Eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: It makes you sound evil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak: . . .So? –still glancing about-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: Because good always trium. . . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An alert pops up on the screen of the giant super computer in the room that I was too lazy to tell you about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alert: You have taken over the fabric industry, and indirectly monopolized the fashion industry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack. . . –simply stares at the screen, his fist still pressing down the button-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak: Booyeah baby!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: . . . Did I do that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak: Yep! –grinning broadly-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: Well, crap. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak: Ah, it’s not that bad. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: It isn’t? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak: Nope. I’m offering you a position of power in my complete and total domination of the fabric market. You’ll be my right hand man as I make power plays and whatnot, watching and aiding me as I slowly raise prices, expand my control of the fashion industry by controlling prices, forcing them to sell me shares, and jack up prices in an effort to cope with my insane rates. We’ll swindle billions of people, and eventually control all the world’s markets, making ourselves rich!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: Do I get free ice cream?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak: . . . –looks at Zack-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: Because, I want free ice cream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak: You can have free ice cream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: And cookies? Fresh and yummy, not the cruddy store-bought kind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak: I’m sure I can arrange that. –rolling eyes-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: . . . Sounds cool to me! –holds out a hand-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak: -shakes the outstretched hand- Good. Then it’s settled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: Mmmmhm. –stares at Mak more-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak: Oh, and the little boy’s room is thataway. –points a hand to downleft stage-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: Oh! Right! Thanks! –runs off doing a sliiight pee pee dance thingy.-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak: -sigh- Idiot. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The character of Zack is pretty much Zack Bonnick. Freaking insaaane. He rawks. If I ever have to do that one with someone, he's sooo doing it. -had him in mind as she wrote- And yes, I used my own middle name. It was the only name I could think of that in it's entirety, is totally feminine, but when you shorten it, it's so a guy name. Ed pointed this out to me, and I must give him the credit. Thank you Ed! -huggle-</content>
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