The Copper Sea

coppersea @ 2008-06-03T10:19:00

2008-06-03T16:38:15Z

Man, I dropped off the face of the earth there for a while. :|

You know, generally when fictional characters show up in your dream it's no big deal. But I had a dream last night in which I was interrogated by Revolver Ocelot (by which I mean Shalashaska, so not even the good fortune to be young, not-yet-completely-soulless Ocelot) and you know that's just never good. D: At least he went with water instead of electric torture and pushing my head under and aaaaagh why. Stupid fictional ex-GRU.

For some reason he was asking about Sydney Losstarot, which was a problem, as I've never played Vagrant Story and couldn't really tell him anything. Which, as you may imagine, he was not happy with. I think my subconscious may hate me.

Also here is a picture of Nazi officers on a merry-go-round. I'm not sure why I have this.

METAL GEAR

2008-05-14T22:56:31Z

Okay, wow. So. I seem to have sort of dropped off the face of the earth for a while there. :|

twigcollins! I got your package in the mail the other day. It's awesome, and the sketchbook cover is all squishy. :D

I haven't been doing much lately. The project I was supposed to be doing this summer, well, the leader has also dropped off the face of the earth and hasn't been in contact since mid-april, so. Mostly I've been playing Metal Gear Solid 2 and 3. I'd never played them before but they're a lot of fun, tongue in cheek, and meta like you would not believe. I have to wonder about the developers and the crotch-grabbing, though. Raiden got groped by the President of the United States (who thought he was a woman at the time... Supposedly), and I'm not even going to get into the things Volgin enjoys. (Oh yes I will. This list includes Raikov, Tanya, torturing people, electrocuting people, beating people to death, groping Raikov, and more. The game talks about what a sadist he is. I am not even making this up.) The first time Snake meets Volgin (after stealing Raikov's clothes...) he gropes Snake twice, realizes he isn't Raikov and beats the hell out of him (for "hurting Ivan"). It is a special, special scene, followed by torture.

In the secret theaters in 3 (more or less just comedy clips), one of them is about Raiden traveling back in time to kill Snake and become the main character. He ends up in Groznyj Grad and, mistaken for Raikov (they look identical) gets molested by Volgin. (what)

Metal Gear is weird. :V

Thank you, livejournal

2008-04-25T22:14:39Z

I know livejournal's been censoring some interest search results, but I just encountered one that's... Uh, interesting. I knew Supernatural was going to broadcast this week after being on hiatus since the writer's strike but couldn't remember what day. I remembered a main community for it and figured they'd have the answer, so I searched "supernatural" in interests... And almost none of the results that come back pertain to the show. Not even the the really big community supernatural_tv (which has "supernatural" in its interests, but doesn't show up in the search).

Now I'm curious what the algorithm is. What's being filtered and on what basis? How do you make an interest search skip over results? Also, what the fuck? You're banning TV show names, really?

D:

2008-04-25T05:10:10Z

Iiiiiiii am not enjoying this day. For all intents and purposes the term is over, but I have to give something in tomorrow (which I was going to spend today doing), but instead spent over five hours (Five hours!) trying to find something that would convert .wmv to .avi without having to buy new software. Now I have to do the other half of the thing for tomorrow and it's already 11 PM.

.wmv is the biggest pain in the ass video format in the world. I would rather work with anything but this stupid proprietary microsoft format that no editor can read properly argh die die die.

Also my V key doesn't work half the time now. :C

:O

2008-04-20T03:51:18Z

Oh my god

Oh my god Battlestar Galactica, this week's episode. I spent the last half with faces that ranged from :o to :O.

This is the show that should be the standard for every sci-fi show to be judged by. The writing? Phenomenal. The acting? Even better. The plot? Is actually well-thought-out, coherent, internally consistent, and interesting, which is a rarity even in standard TV. Standard issue sci-fi magic reset button plot devices? Absent.

If you haven't been following Battlestar, you should be. It's in its fourth and last season right now so catch up on it for all your political intrigue, space fighting, genocide, cylon, prophecy, Gaius Baltar and ragged, non-shiny future ship needs.

Honestly, after watching Torchwood for so long, I'd forgotten what really good TV was like.

(And I'm about to watch the new Doctor who episode so this is just a good night all around.)

Crossover game

2008-04-12T03:10:08Z

For the first time in what seems like forever, I have free time! Awesome! :D (So of course I need something to do in that time)

Here's how the crossover game goes, since one of the things I do when I'm bored is bounce continuities off each other to see what happens- give me two fandoms and I'll tell you how that crossover goes. Make it as odd as you want. (FFXII/DDS? Firefly/Silent Hill? Harry Potter/Persona 3? Go for it!)

coppersea @ 2008-04-04T18:01:00

2008-04-05T00:05:18Z

Happy birthday, Alex. (Now we're both old. :V)

ollllllld

2008-04-01T06:48:00Z

Oh what I'm 21 now you say? What is this madness?

Also I have found the best emoticon in the world

,( O ɜ Ô)~

coppersea @ 2008-03-12T01:07:00

2008-03-12T07:11:58Z

I'm aliiiiiiiiive

This past week has been a stressfest like no other. Ah, sleeping, how I've missed you. :[

What. What is this.

2008-02-20T21:12:45Z

I just got a very... Special letter in the mail.

It's actually addressed to my parents, and is from my mother's family out east- it's a small, battered, grubby handwritten envelope. I took in the mail and noticed that the back had come unglued and was just hanging open, so I took out the sheet inside to make sure that it wasn't like "Hey this is the post office, we lost your mail, oops lol", but it was a typed sheet. More precisely, a typed-out new years' letter.

From the year 2000. Specifically January 23, 2000.

Some of the lines' letters are cut in half like it came out of a bad printer. There's a reference or two to the Y2K bug and things that were going on at the time, the weather, what my cousins were doing then. The whole sheet is folded up and into itself to fit in this little, halfsize envelope.

And, see, I'd think it just mysteriously got lost in the mail for, oh, eight years, but the stamp has a different date on it- 2006.

Two years ago.

There's no context in the envelope, just the one sheet, and I do not know what the fuck.

EDIT: And no, it's not instructing me to go to Silent Hill. At least not yet. :0

Torchwood- like a brain tumor, in a way

2008-02-15T12:11:36Z

Sometimes I'm not sure why I like Torchwood- it has... Flaws. Big, big flaws you could drive a truck through. The characterization is wildly inconsistent, the stories induce a lot of WTF, the scripts are a world unto themselves, backstory is, uh, presented in bizarre ways, and there's lots of meaningless technojargon and mystery gadgets.

Nonetheless I keep watching. It's gotten better this season (though instead of fixing flaws, the directors were like "well we know they're there, so lets just make a joke of the flaws and not fix them, ha ha") and there seems to be a degree of actual credible romance/sexual tension instead of random couplings. Ianto keeps getting screwed over, though. What's up with Jack? In the first season he's like "Ianto, booty call. By the way I don't really care about you and I'm using you as a substitute for the doctor. Also I killed your girlfriend." Which made sense for the character. But now he's all like "Totally over the doctor. Let's do this right, Ianto. We'll go on dates and everything. :)" and Ianto goes "...Okay. :3" and then five minutes later Jack goes "ZOMG GWEN IS ENGAGED?! THIS CANNOT BE! I LOVE YOU GWENNNNNN BUT I WON'T SAY IT I'LL JUST LOOK TORMENTED AND MANLY hey Ianto get me some coffee and bend over my desk, second best boy."

And Ianto is in the background going "...:(". Where did Jack obsessing over Gwen even come from? It makes no sense, and for Torchwood, that's saying something.

BUT.

Adam? That had some fantastic moments. And Reset? That was pretty damn good. If this keeps up, Torchwood might be a decent show someday. But I love it anyway what is wrong with me

I also saw the most recent Supernatural, and that was incredible. It took a groundhog-day time loop and turned it very, very nasty. And SAM. Sam. At the end, looking back. D:

Happy Birthday surlygaijin

2008-01-28T08:52:35Z

Happy birthday surlygaijin. :3

I drew you Grey for a present, since you asked for Inhuman fanart (because Grey and his hallucinatory headworms are totally what you want to see on your birthday).

Anonymous vs. Church of Scientology

2008-01-25T04:11:03Z

You may or may not have heard, but in the last few days some craziness has started to go down- every so often the entirety of anonymous mobilizes. For all that anonymous is no one's personal army, when something gets big enough they move, and the brunt of their force has come down on the church of scientology.

Youtube videos have been posted (See anonymous' declaration of war), secret documents have been leaked, the CoS' websites are currently under a massive DDOS attack. Real-life protest mobilizations are being organized. (The biggest to come seems to be in London on Feb. 10) And all this is just beginning to hit the mainstream news. So far it's been picked up on by NBC, Sky News and the National Post.

The church of scientology is a big, creepy pyramid scheme and a cult in the worst sense of the word. They have a sordid history of government infiltration, terrorizing dissenters until they break down, the Fair Game rules (which on simple form state that it's okay to do anything to someone who stands against scientology. As it states, "SP Order. Fair game. May be deprived of property or injured by any means by any Scientologist without any discipline of the Scientologist. May be tricked, sued or lied to or destroyed." also see "...authorized the use of Auditing Process R2-45, in which a Scientologist would "exteriorize" his thetan by shooting him multiple times with a Colt .45 pistol.")

They bankrupted the family of a woman who died under their care by stalling them in court until the family ran out of money.

This is the only sort of thing that can stand against the CoS. They can't sue the nameless masses, they can't buy them off, and the more exposure they get the worse it gets for them.

Godspeed, anonymous. Godspeed.

Edit: Also, this is an excellent thread on the ongoing development of things, as long as the forum stays public for a while or you're a member of SA.

Odd things I have seen today

2008-01-24T01:24:57Z

In list form:

1. A phone booth in a field off highway 1 on the way to Banff. Just sitting there in the middle of nowhere. Perhaps the Doctor is in the vicinity?

2. A little honda covered in airbrushed screaming skulls

3. A guy with a very impressive black eye and splinted nose

4. A guy on the bus who I saw out of the corner of my eye with something shiny in his hands. I looked closer; it was a pair of small fold-out scissors. He lifted one hand in front of his face, then pressed the scissors to the back of his hand and... Proceeded to meticulously trim all the hair off the back of his hands, bit by bit, with his mouth hanging open. OHHHKAY THEN

coppersea @ 2008-01-21T06:39:00

2008-01-21T13:50:18Z

I like to live my life by the immortal words of Captain Cid: Sit down, shut up and drink your goddamn tea.

It's good advice.

On another note, yogurt is really gross and I'm supposed to be eating it because I'm on some antibiotics and it's good for me but it's so. Bad. So bad. I can eat a spoonful and then I have to psych myself up for the next bite and I just can't do it. Yogurt is the only food that I can't stand at all and will just not eat ever.

Also you can tell I'm tired because my sentences don't pause or end and I've forgotten the art of the comma and period, also punctuation in general

I'm going to go drink tea now

Digital Devil Saga/Silent Hill crossover part 2

2008-01-16T06:41:48Z

Still no title. :B (Part 1 is here.)

I wrote more of it. This piece is exactly 4000 words long. Sort-of spoilers in this chunk for what they did to Sera, what happened to Alessa in SH1, and some general stuff for SH2. However I'm kind of messing with canon anyway, so take that as you will.

As it turns out, Silent Hill’s not so bad when you’ve got a demon with you. James still isn’t really sure what Gale is but he’s thankful for his company. There have been a couple of close calls where he’d had to hit something with his trusty plank but for the most part Gale just tears through the things they encounter, and, okay, maybe the fact that he eats them is a little freaky, but James is willing to overlook certain things. Besides, he goes back to being human in between fights so it’s not that bad, right?

They don’t have to bother finding the key to the Blue Creek Apartments. Gale—human Gale—considers the rusted metal for a moment, pops a blade out of the end of his shoe and kicks the lock hard. The lock snaps apart easily. James reminds himself for about the fifth time not to get on Gale’s bad side.

There’s a piece of red paper tacked up in the entryway and James gives in to his compulsion to press his hand to it. He staggers away a few seconds later, vision blurry, and Gale’s looking at him curiously. Gale touches the paper as well but doesn’t appear to feel anything.

“I’d thought it was a terminal of some sort. Perhaps not.”

“Terminal?” James says, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Data nodes connected to Sahasrara and the dissemination machine,” Gale says, “but this is… Not. It is similar, but different.” He picks up a health drink off the floor and tosses it to James, and then starts up the stairs to the second floor. “Come along. There is no sense in wasting time.”

They find a flashlight on a mannequin dressed as his dead wife, and a pistol in a shopping cart. The room is full of bullet holes. James can’t help feeling uneasy as he looks at them. Someone’s last stand was made here but there’s not so much as blood to show where they might have been. Gale takes the pistol and loads it with the ease of experience. For a moment his hood obscures his face and James is struck with the sudden terrifying certainty that when Gale looks up he’ll be the demon again, and this time he’ll feel no compunction about eating James piece by piece.

Gale, though, is still Gale, and he’s human as he tucks the gun into his clothes.

“So,” James tries to make conversation, “what do you do?”

“Do?”

“You know, for a job,” do demons have jobs? “or, um. Never mind.”

Something comes around the corner and Gale doesn’t bother changing, he just lifts the gun and bang bang bang, three shots dead-center in the double-leg-thing’s chest. He doesn’t even break stride. “I am the Embryon’s tactician and strategist,” Gale says, “in short, I am a soldier.”

“And that demon thing-?”

“Vayu.”

James nods. “All right, Vayu. Is that… Common? Where you come from?”

“Until recently, no,” Gale says, “but after that—you are the first I have met who does not possess such a thing.”

“Huh,” is all James can think of to say. He sort of wonders what he’d look like as a demon. They seem to be linked to the original person’s skills and body, so… Well, James wasn’t good at much. He’d probably be the worst demon ever. At least as a human he doesn’t have any inclination to eat the things in Silent Hill. They all look like they’ve been dead for weeks, though Gale doesn’t seem to mind the taste.

The first sign that things aren’t going to go as smoothly as he’d hoped is when James opens one of the apartment doors and comes face to face with something big, dark and unpleasant. A thick, rusty metal shield covers its head and it looks like it’s wearing a butcher’s apron. It’s distracted with a couple of the double-leg mannequins at the counter, and James is just about to say something to Gale when Gale grabs him by the scruff of his neck and drags him into the closet.

“What’s wrong?” James whispers.

“That… Is different,” Gale says, “it’s not like the others. Allow me to observe it.”

Gale’s frowning and James looks out at the thing. The closet’s a tight fit for the two of them but suddenly James doesn’t mind, because the thing out there is something like seven feet tall and built like a brick wall. Whatever it’s doing to the mannequins, he doesn’t want to know.

And then it turns and looks at them.

James makes a little distressed noise and Gale elbows him, just enough to shut him up. The thing’s still coming and James could swear that it’s staring right at him. He shrinks back against the wall and Gale uses the gaps in the slats as a gunport. Bullets bounce off the thing’s head and what few manage to hit flesh have no effect. It’s inches from the door when Gale runs out of bullets and it finally stops, staring into the closet. James is shaking, trying not to make a sound, and it’s a tense few moments before it rolls its shoulders and walks away.

They spill out of the closet once the thing’s gone. Gale pockets a key from the shelf and looks down at the dead mannequins.

“You’re, uh, you’re not going to eat those, are you?”

Gale blinks. “I do not feel the need.”

They’re back out in the hall when James works up the courage to ask. “What was that thing,” he says, “do you know?”

“I do not. It was, however, familiar,” Gale has picked up more ammunition from somewhere and loads the gun, “it was a little like you.”

“Wh… What do you mean, like me?”

“In the sense that I am like Vayu.”

James bites his lip. “What are you saying?”

Gale shrugs. “I admit that I am uncertain of the specifics, but perhaps you are a different sort of asura.”

James is mostly silent as they make their way through the rest of the building. He can’t stop thinking about that red pyramid-headed thing. James doesn’t believe what Gale says about them being the same, but that doesn’t mean that he ever wants to meet the thing again.

The very last door they come to says Stairs, and it’s heavy and windowless. There are loud noises, scraping and banging, coming from behind it and James’s radio has kicked up a notch from “Gale is close by” to “look out behind you”, so Gale gives James the gun and transforms into Vayu as a precaution. It’s too dark to see what’s in the stairwell so James grips the gun close. Gale’s here, right? James will be fine.

The door locks behind them at about the same time that James realizes the stairs only go down, and they’re flooded, and Gale growls at the pyramid-headed thing in the corner.

Pyramid head drops the twisted body he’d been amusing himself with and straightens up. James suddenly realizes that he’s got a knife that’s about as long as James is tall, and James starts firing as Vayu does something and a miniature windstorm springs up around the thing and knocks it back. Pyramid head swings his knife at James and James tosses himself to the side just in time. The knife embeds itself in concrete about six inches to the left of James’ head, and Vayu swipes at the thing’s unprotected back with the blades in his feet.

He misses.

The thing’s arm comes up, lightning-fast, and closes around where Vayu’s neck would be if he had a proper head. Pyramid head throws the demon against the wall like a ragdoll and James gapes up from the floor as a long black tongue flickers out from under the helmet and tastes the air. He forgets to move as the helmet slowly turns back to face him. James feels like a deer in the headlights and the only thing that saves him is Gale, not Vayu any longer, dragging him out of the way of the falling blade.

Gale doesn’t look so good. There’s blood dribbling from his nose and the corner of his mouth and he staggers a bit under James’ weight. Still, he pulls the gun from James’ hands and fires round after round. Pyramid Head keeps dragging the knife around and every time James and Gale have to move out of the way Gale looks worse.

It takes what seems like hours, but a siren sounds and Pyramid head looks away. It seems to forget that they exist. The knife leaves an inch-deep divot in the floor as it turns and descends the stairs into the water. A few minutes after it disappears under the surface the water drains.

Gale has one arm wrapped around his chest and he’s slumped against the wall. There’s still blood coming out of his mouth and he wipes it away.

“Are you okay?” James asks, “you’re bleeding.”

Gale doesn’t say anything. He pushes off the wall, unsteady, and becomes Vayu again. Even Vayu looks hurt—he’s swaying back and forth on his toes like he can’t quite stay upright. James watches as Gale does something and for a moment the air is full of green sparks. Vayu stills and shrinks back down into Gale, who is no longer bleeding or injured. James feels good all of a sudden, like he could run up the side of a mountain or face an army of acid-spitters without flinching.

“It is stronger than I’d thought,” Gale says like nothing’s happened, “we should avoid facing it head-on in the future.”

“Yeah, I’d say so,” James laughs nervously, “God, I thought we were going to die.”

“It does not seem intent on killing us. There is some other purpose at work here.”

James started down the stairs. They were still damp. “It seemed pretty intent to me.”

“But it is not,” Gale strides down the steps, unconcerned, “I was right, it is connected to you. However, it is not acting precisely as a pure aggressor should. It is intelligent, and has something else in mind.” The door at the bottom of the stairs opens out into a courtyard, and there is no sign of the water that had drained out. They walk out into the yard, and James thinks to himself that he really, really doesn’t want to know what Pyramid Head’s true intention is. All he can picture is some grotesque combination of whatever it does to the other monsters and what James had seen of Gale’s meals, bloody and brutally efficient. He shudders and wraps his arms around himself.

**

“So how did you get stuck here?” Heather is leaning over the lip of the roof and squinting into the dark, “I mean, of all places to be, this is a pretty bad one.”

Argilla shrugs. “I was just somewhere else and then I was here. After what happened I knew I’d wake up somewhere different, but this doesn’t seem much like nirvana.”

“Nirvana, huh?” Heather straightens up and looks at the crust of what might be blood or rust on the ground, “yeah, I know what you mean. This place sucks,” she knocked her boot against the concrete to knock some of the filth off, “should we keep going? From what I’ve seen so far you can get back into the normal world if you go on long enough. If we can get out of this building we can probably get out of all this for a while, and my apartment’s nearby. We can see my dad, maybe he can help.”

“It’s better than staying here. I have some people to find as well,” Argilla says, “my comrades.” She stands and the rifle is gone again.

“Where are you putting that?”

Argilla turns the back of her long split skirt inside-out to show the holster sewn in. “Secret compartment,” she winks, “where did you think I was putting it?”

Heather’s about to open her mouth for a smartassed reply when she catches sight of a shadow out of the corner of her eye. It’s above them, up in the sky. Argilla hasn’t seen it yet.

“Look out!” Heather yells and fumbles with the pistol. Everything slows to a crawl as she tries to get it in her sights but it keeps moving, and Argilla’s slowly turning to face it. Heather can see that she won’t reach her gun in time.

“Stop!” Argilla says, “Heather, stop, it’s okay! I know him!”

The thing lands at the same time as Argilla’s pulling the pistol out of Heather’s hands. Heather lets her do it because suddenly all she can see is the thing’s big damn teeth. “You know him?” she says, “how do you even—what do you—what?”

“It’s okay, really,” Argilla looks sincere, “he’s one of my comrades. I know he’s a little, mm, different right now, but we’re all a little unusual. And Cielo, turn back before you give her a heart attack.”

The monster is replaced by a teenage boy as Heather watches. A teenage boy with sky-blue dreadlocks, the same general sort of clothing that Argilla’s wearing, and, um, short shorts. Never mind the demon thing, he’s wearing short shorts. Seriously? Is he really wearing that?

“Sorry sis,” his smile is practically taking up half his face, “you getta new girlfriend?”

“Shut up, Cielo,” Argilla says, but she looks happy, “it’s good to see you. Where did you start out?”

“Some church. There was dis crazy woman yelling ‘bout how I was a messenger from god, or de holy mother or something. I busted out a window and left.”

“You—Claudia?” Heather says, still processing through the transformation and the bizarrely normal, easy conversation the other two are having, “you met Claudia?”

“Could be. Blonde, barefoot and crazier than a bag of cats?”

“That’s the one,” Heather grimaced, “ugh, this whole place is her fault, I just know it. She said some of that holy mother junk to me too. Let’s just get out of here.”

Argilla and Cielo talk in low tones as they all go back down into the building. Heather’s a little uneasy with them now, but she’ll take what she can get. That’s just the way Silent Hill is. Either way Argilla seems nice enough, though this place tends to play with those things. She’ll just have to keep one eye open at all times, that’s all.

**

Henry didn’t know what he’d been expecting but this wasn’t it. The hallways outside his apartment were writhing faintly, slick and pink like the inside of an organ. Serph didn’t seem bothered in the least.

“Wait, wait,” Henry said as they passed Eileen’s door, “I want to check on something. Just to make sure.” Serph waited patiently as Henry knocked on Eileen’s door and then tried the knob. It was locked. “Eileen?” he called, “Eileen, are you in there?”

There were sounds like something was moving around inside but no answer. Henry jiggled the knob one last time and left it. “I guess we’ll have to find the key,” he said, “easier said than done. Unless maybe you can open it?”

Serph didn’t even try the knob, he just shook his head. “It won’t open,” he said, and started down the hall. Henry jogged to catch up.

“How do you know that? You opened my door pretty easily. Why not this one?”

“It doesn’t want to be opened.”

“It doesn’t want anything. It’s just a door,” Henry said, “it’s not alive.”

Serph looked at the undulation of the wall and raised an eyebrow meaningfully.

“Okay, fine. Maybe it’s alive. But still.”

They didn’t meet anyone on their way down to the lobby. Nothing alive, anyway; there were ghosts oozing black and twisted out of the wall, making Henry’s vision go red and blurry, but they floated around Serph like he wasn’t there. Henry sagged against the wall once they were free and clear until his head stopped pounding. Serph was eyeing the big front doors.

“Don’t bother. I tried them earlier when I was… Sort of here. They won’t open.”

Serph shook his head and pressed his hands flat against the door. “It will,” he said, and pushed. The door swung open into bright whiteness outside. Henry squinted against the sudden light, and when he could make out shapes again he stumbled outside into the foggy streets.

“This isn’t Ashfield,” he said, “this is Silent Hill. How did we get here? That’s miles away!”

Serph said nothing.

“What about Eileen?”

“The door does not want to be opened. Not now.”

“What does that even mean?” Henry said, “how do you know that?”

Serph touched the tattoo on his face and shrugged. Henry thought of the thing he’d turned into at the door, all spines and teeth and claws.

“Are you… Part of this place?” Henry asked, hesitant, “is that why you know?”

Serph didn’t answer.

Henry kept an eye on him and followed him into the town. The kid was really starting to make him uneasy, but it wasn’t like he had much of a choice in what to do. Serph was protection, after all. No matter what he was.

Now if only he could stop thinking about Serph’s mouth under the tap in his apartment, lapping up blood like water.

**

This woman is not human. Of this Gale is certain. Not the same kind of not-human that he is, either—she’s human on the outside, but something about her is off. Twisted.

James went to the little park to meet his Mary, and what he got was Maria. Gale hangs back and watches her. Whatever she is, she is very convincing and James’ radio is quiet in her presence. Gale can smell this place on her like it’s woven into her bones. Fire and ash, sour-sweet old blood and stagnant water.

“Gale, this is Maria,” James says, and as soon as he gets close to Gale the radio is spitting static, “Maria, Gale. Sometimes he’s not human, but don’t worry about that.”

“Not human?” she reels back, “he’s not one of those monsters, is he?”

“No, no, it’s okay,” James says, and even to Gale it sounds odd, “I mean, he sort of is, but won’t try to eat you or anything. He’s a good sort of monster,” James looks over at Gale, “sorry.”

Gale says nothing. Whether or not this woman will be a threat has yet to be seen, but he will reserve judgment. She seems to feel the same way about him.

They try to take the long road around the lake to the hotel; that is the next place where James thought his wife would be, but the road disappears into a canyon. There’s a broken body sprawled out by the edge and James picks up the map beside it. Maria wrinkles her nose and hangs back. Gale looks from James to the body and back again.

“How curious.”

“Huh?” James looks up, “what’s curious?”

“Are you wearing some type of uniform?”

“No…?”

Gale prods the body with his foot. The state of its face (or lack of face as the case may be) indicates weeks of rot, but the body is solid and new. “How strange, then,” Gale says, “you’re wearing the same clothes.”

**

Harry looks at his map, then the hospital, and his map, and back at the hospital.

“…This isn’t Alchemilla,” he says, “it should be here.”

“Says Brookhaven,” Heat shrugs, “close enough. How many hospitals can a little town have?”

Harry looks back the way they came. “Okay, we came down Chrichton street, so this should be the corner of Chrichton and Koontz…” When he looks at the street signs though, they say Carroll and Nathan. That’s not even on his map, and the hospital’s not at the corner where it should be. It’s halfway down Carroll street.

“I don’t think we came the right way,” Harry says, “where are we?”

“Something I’ve learned? Shit doesn’t just happen,” Heat says, “you tend to get brought where you need to be. Things come to you if you need them. I say we go in.”

Harry looks at the building. “I don’t know,” he says, “what if we’re going in the wrong direction?”

When he looks back at his map it’s changed. Alchemilla and Chrichton are nowhere to be seen. Instead there’s Brookhaven hospital on Carroll street underlined with fat red marker. If that’s not a hint he doesn’t know what is.

“Okay,” he says, “okay, well. I guess we go in.”

The inside of the hospital is dingy and dark, but that’s nothing new. Harry turns on his pocket flashlight and starts poking around but the first floor seems deserted. There’s an elevator, but it’s broken, and there’s supposed to be a stairwell around the corner but the door to the hall is locked. They turn the rooms upside down looking for keys but can’t find a thing. Heat stands up straight all of a sudden, sick of looking through drawers.

“Well fuck this,” he growls and turns into Agni, “I’m kicking the door down.”

The door shudders under his blows, and when they finally screech open one knocks something that may or may not once have been a nurse head over heels backwards.

“See? Easy.”

“What happened to “things come to you if you need them”? Harry asks.

Agni grins with both heads. He’s already tearing at the nurse-thing with his claws. “Sometimes you have to make do.”

**

Elsewhere

“You could stay with me,” the scarred woman says, arms curled in by fire long ago, “I know the things you’ve been through,” her thin, shapeless lips pull back from her teeth in something like a smile, “I know your suffering, your hurt. They had no right to pull you into godhood.”

“Godhood?” Sera is sitting up very straight, afraid to touch the darkness that seems to seep from every pore of this place, “I… I wasn’t anything like that…”

“You could make them hurt.”

Sera looks away. “They’re already hurt,” she says, “already suffering. I want to help.”

“They do not deserve help. Drag them down,” the woman says, “they made you the mother of a world. They tried to make me the mother of god.”

“B-but—god is—“

“I am the mother of something else,” she hisses, “reeds and serpents. Mother of god, daughter of god. Red and yellow, dark water and old blood. I am the mother of this place and it folds in and in on itself. It drags them down and drags them in, and they suffer. And it is good.”

“I can’t!” Sera leans away, “I wouldn’t! I don’t want to hurt anyone!”

“Still a child. So much a child,” the woman sighs, “you will see in time. The truth of the world is pain, and if you visit it upon the deserving, so much the better.”

“I’m…” Sera takes a few steps toward the door and looks back, “I’m going to go now.”

The woman raises a twisted arm, almost unrecognizable as human. “Come here, child. I have something for you.”

Sera edges back to the woman’s bedside against her better judgment. The woman presses a cold stone amulet into her hand.

“As long as you carry this you will not be harmed. Keep it safe.”

Sera hesitates. “What’s your name?”

The woman’s mouth pulls back into that grotesque grin again. “Alessa,” she says, “and it is a name that brings fear and darkness in its wake. Use it sparingly,” she looks up at Sera, and her eyes are startlingly clear against her twisted body, “and yours I already know, Sera. You already carry the taint of corruption on you, and it grows. Not in your heart, but in what they made.” Alessa places a finger on Sera’s forehead, “go now.”

“I,” Sera says, “I’m not coming back.”

Alessa looks at her, knowing, and says nothing.

....MONDAY

2008-01-08T00:41:17Z

Uuuuuughgughgugh Monday

Monday

Until April something-or-other-th, I have a twelve hour class schedule on Mondays. Nine AM to nine PM.

Whyyyyyyyyyy just kill me now Why do you do this to me D:

Class ended early since it was the first day, so I managed to come home and eat some soup, but now I have to go back for another three hours. Damn you, scheduling! Damn you! D:

DDS/SH art

2007-12-29T01:19:53Z

I have too much time on my hands. :B

Also I'm writing more DDS/SH crossover, because apparently I can't stop myself. :V

Silent Hill/Digital Devil Saga crossover fic

2007-12-27T22:53:56Z

See, when I get insomnia, I do things. Do things like paint vaguely creepy things and write fic.

Silent Hill/Digital Devil Saga crossover fic.

Very mild spoilers for the first DDS game. Various... DDS warnings, because DDS is full of cannibalism and is just special like that. But then again, Silent Hill is a little on the "Uhhh... Okay then" scale too. This can be read without knowing anything about digital devil saga- all you really need is "dystopian soldiers in a constant war, also they can turn into demons and eat each other". Yeah.

Crossed over with Silent Hills one through four. :D

The world comes apart, and the next time Gale opens his eyes he’s lying on his back, looking up at trees. He’s never seen trees before.

Gale considers them briefly and gets to his feet. His back is damp and cold and he can’t see very far in any direction—there’s low, thick fog hanging everywhere and it’s very, very quiet. The only sound he can pick out is condensation dripping to the forest floor.

Gale can feel Vayu somewhere in the back of his head, so he doesn’t worry about the demon. Even so he can feel something off about the whole place, something small and large at the same time though he can’t place it. It tastes a little of Sahasrara and the Karma Temple.

Somewhere to the west Gale can hear very faint footfalls and so he follows, silent even over the leaves that cover the ground.

There is a man following a path. He’s nondescript except for his hair—Gale wonders if that color is normal; light brown? Really?—and though the man is jumpy and wary of his surroundings Gale has no trouble following him without notice.

The man seems to be no threat at all and Gale ignores Vayu’s contemplation of how he’d taste. It might in fact be more productive to simply ask where he is, and if the man doesn’t cooperate then Gale has several methods of interrogation at his disposal. Simple enough.

He hangs back for a moment or two and then starts deliberately making noise as he walks. He doesn’t want to unnerve the man too badly.

When he rounds the corner the man is looking at him.

“Hello,” Gale says, “could you tell me where I am?”

The man is looking at Gale’s clothes and hair. Gale keeps his gaze steady and calm, as always. He does not allow himself to waver.

“It’s the outskirts of Silent Hill,” the man says, “um… Were you following me?”

Gale tilts his head slightly. “Why would I do that?”

The man keeps looking off into the brush. “I dunno,” he laughs a little, nervous, “I guess I’m just paranoid. Are you going to Silent Hill too?”

Gale weighs his options. Silent Hill seems to be a place, which is better than staying in the forest. “Yes,” he says, “I am.”

“I’m James,” the man says, “James Sunderland. And you?” He puts out his hand.

Gale takes James’ hand and shakes it, half-sure that that’s what he’s supposed to be doing. It seems to be correct.

“My name is Gale,” Gale says, “It is… Nice to meet you.”

James starts down the path again and Gale follows a few steps behind. It’s only prudent, after all, and it’s second nature for him to fall into step. If anything happens, James will be the first to walk into it.

They meet a girl in a graveyard. She seems oddly perceptive and shies away from Gale as if she can see Vayu’s shadow hanging over him. Maybe she can. Either way, it’s unimportant—Gale’s primary concern is finding some degree of civilization, followed by finding Serph and the rest of the Embryon. No more and no less.

The moment they step into town Gale can smell blood. It’s all over the road and Vayu sniffs at the air as well, restless. Suddenly Gale is hungry, and the blood that sticks to the bottom of his shoe only trails the scent further. Vayu isn’t actually very interested in James; he doesn’t carry that tang of otherness that meant Vayu would be nourished by him, but Gale could picture James’ flesh and blood in his mouth all the same. How long had it been since he’d last eaten?

There’s a heavy scent of corruption carried on the wind, and Vayu perks up at it.

“Hey,” says James, “do you see that?”

There’s an odd, twisted figure at the end of the road, just disappearing into the fog. Gale watches the way it moves, the way it walks with an unsteady stumble. It probably isn’t human. Another asura, or something else?

“Shall we follow?” Gale says, “it will not be hard to catch.”

“Um,” James says, “okay,” and they start down the road. James is looking jumpier than ever and Gale keeps an eye on the sides of the road for an ambush. There are noises all around but they seem to have no source.

The path ends at a little half-boarded hole in the wall. Gale can hear radio static. It makes him feel strange, like the buzz and crackle is in his head. He pauses to consider the sensation as James slips between the slats.

James is looking at the radio. Gale watches him shake the little thing and get nothing in response, nothing but static.

“Is this thing broken?” James mutters, “I can’t get it to do anything.”

There’s a strange noise and Gale’s attention is drawn to the dark space behind James. There’s something there, something malformed and twisting up to strike at the other man from behind.

“James,” says Gale, “move.”

James presses himself back into the wall. The next few moments preserve themselves in little snapshots of memory—James sees black and glowing green spread across Gale’s body from what he’d thought was a tattoo on Gale’s calf, and he sees Gale’s body twist into something human-not-human that balances delicately on bladed feet, something with no eyes and a head that splits neatly down the center with serrated teeth, and James sees that massive mouth close around the thing that was behind him with a snap and a squeal of bone on bone, and then he watches Gale tear the thing apart and eat it.

James was trying to edge away when Gale’s body rearranged to human again, green hair and all.

Gale licked the last remnants of blood from his teeth. The radio keeps buzzing and only gets louder as he approaches, so he keeps his distance from James.

“Oh—oh my god,” James chokes out, “what are you?”

Gale considers this man, eyes half-lidded. “I am myself,” he says, and he feels sated for the moment. His mouth still tastes of blood and the black acid the thing had in it, but it is of no consequence to him, “you will not be harmed. Do not concern yourself.”

James gets to his feet. He picks up a loose board and stumbles out into the road. Gale follows.

**

There’s something in his apartment.

Henry’d been at his desk when he heard the noise—a loud thump, followed by a groan and what sounded like somebody kicking something. And that was- well, that was not good with a capital NOT, because it could be another haunting or a ghost or Walter, and he didn’t want to deal with that right now. Really. Not at all. Today had been long enough, and Henry didn’t think he’d ever manage to get the bloodstains out of his rapidly depleting supply of white shirts.

Even so, he could hear whatever it was walking around, and the rattle of chains as it tried the door. Probably not Walter, then.

“Hey,” he called out (because there’s no harm in asking, right?), “who’s there?”

The noise stopped. Henry opened his bedroom door a crack and peered out. There was a boy—a teenager? Adult? Standing in his living room. He looked young but he had white hair and a black tattoo on his cheek—he couldn’t tell from this distance, but did he not have any pupils? Freaky. Henry opened the door and stepped out.

“How did you get in here?”

The boy shrugged.

“O… kay then,” Henry said, “what’s your name?”

The boy was looking at something in the main room and Henry walked out, cautious. The television was possessed again and there were thin red and black cracks opening in the opposite wall, so nothing too out of the ordinary for him, but the kid seemed remarkably calm.

“Serph,” the boy said, and nothing more.

Henry looked at the kid’s clothes. He looked like he’d fallen out of a sci-fi novel. It was all grey and brass and black. Some of it looked like weird armor.

“Well, I guess you’re stuck here with me, now,” Henry fished a couple of candles out and lit them in front of the TV and the wall. The hauntings faded away, “I’ve been stuck here for a while. The only way out, well-“ Henry looked at the grimy windows, “that goes… Elsewhere.”

Henry plonked himself down on the couch with a book and let the kid roam around. He was tired and just wanted to rest for a while. Silent Hill—or whatever it was at the end of that tunnel, anyway—was exhausting.

Eventually the kid—Serph—came back. He was looking a little unsettled, and hey, stuck in a place like this who wouldn’t be?

Henry wasn’t really paying attention to his book in the first place, so he watched Serph wander around his little apartment, picking up photos and putting them down. Serph was kind of a weird guy; didn’t talk much, that was for sure, but he seemed fascinated with the little things Henry kept on his shelves.

Henry watched him kneel to look through the hole into Eileen’s apartment, and watched as he went to the door and pressed his eye to the peephole.

“Seriously, I meant it when I said there was no way out,” Henry said, “not really. I’ve been in here since—God, I don’t even know how long. It’s depressing.”

Serph made a little noise of acknowledgement but didn’t do any more than that. He kept looking out into the hall.

“Come on, talk to me,” Henry said, “I haven’t talked to anyone but a bunch of crazy people lately. And dead people. Crazy and dead people.”

Serph paid him no mind but rocked back on his heels like he’d been hit, and Henry wondered what that was about until he heard water and realized that the sink was possessed. Again. Serph must be inside the perimeter—and really, if that kept up his sink was never going to be clean again. Taps running blood was just such a cliche.

Serph strode over to it and looked down.

“Uh, don’t worry,” Henry said as he fished for another candle, “I’ll take care of it—“

Henry stopped with his arm in the crate, because Serph was leaning down with his mouth under the tap and drinking. When he came up for air half his face was streaked crimson.

“Hm,” Serph said, and turned off the tap. Henry reached for his gun. Serph turned, just enough to see Henry halfway into the box with a revolver in his hand. Henry froze.

Serph swept the excess blood off his chin with his hand, watching the gun but showing no sign of worry.

“Do you want to get out of here or not?” Serph said, calm, and Henry lowered the gun to the carpet.

Then he was changing, the tattoo glowing blue as his body rearranged into something that made Henry think of the deep sea, and blades swept out of Serph’s (was that still Serph?) arms to cut the chains with a screech of steel. The thing turned to him and gestured to the door, then reformed into the boy he’d first seen.

Henry stumbled to the door, barely able to believe that he’d been freed so easily.

“What was that?” Henry said, “what did you do?”

“He’s Varna,” said Serph, and he took the gun from Henry’s nerveless hands, “let’s go.”

**

“I am so sick of this!”

Heather kicked the corpse of the split-head dog that had just tried to eat her leg and scowled at the thing when it bled on her boots. Not that they’d been clean in a long while, but it was the principle of the thing.

“I really don’t like you,” she said to the thing, and continued down the hall. Having Silent Hill come to you sucked. Heather was trying to find her way out of a squat office building that seemed to have been taken over by the forces of abominations-against-nature-and-good-décor, but she could hold her own with a pipe, a gun and some luck. That didn’t stop her from walking into something as she rounded the corner. Heather caught herself and swung the pipe wildly. Nothing was going to eat her, no sir.

“Wait, wait!” the monster said, “I’m human!”

“You are?” Heather perked up, “seriously?”

It was another girl. She was tall and dressed all in grey and yellow, but her hair was hot pink and she had a tattoo on her boob and a cool scar over her left eye.

“Who’re you? How’d you get stuck in this hellhole?”

“I’m Argilla,” hot pink said, “about that; where am I?”

Heather shrugged. “Silent Hill, or… Not. I’m not entirely sure myself, but it’s full of tall, dark and uglies. And short and uglies. A lot of uglies.”

Argilla eyed the pistol in Heather’s belt. “You any good with that?”

“I’m okay. Not fantastic, but you do what you can,” Heather said, “are you good with a gun? You can have it if you want. I miss half the time anyway.”

Argilla grinned. “That’s okay. I’ve come prepared,” and she pulled a rifle out of somewhere. Heather didn’t care where, because it was cool. She wanted to learn a pull-a-rifle-out-of-nowhere trick. If anything, at least it would come in handy.

Heather grinned as well. “You know, I think I like you,” she said, “actually, I think I love you. Have my babies.”

Eventually they found their way up to the roof, and Heather cheered Argilla on while she picked off split-heads and slurpers from a distance. Heather leaned over the edge of the roof.

“Take that, ya bastards!” she said, and bounced an empty health drink off a closer, “I’ve got a sniper. You can take your Silent Hill and stick it!”

Argilla just laughed and lined up the next shot.

**

Ever since he woke up, this woman will not shut up. She’s kinda creepy, what with the barefootedness an’ the lank blonde hair an’ the crazy eyes and the black robes, an’ just because Cielo woke up in her church she thinks he’s a messenger from god or something. ‘Course, it didn’t help that he was Dyaus at the time.

“Oh lord of serpents and reeds,” she says, “I will serve you well, and you will never want for flesh in our house. The holy mother’s appearance draws nigh and you shall be united in glory—“

Dyaus drifts a few feet off the floor, cheerfully defying gravity with his rigid wings spread wide. He tilts his eyeless head toward the woman, his wide, jagged mouth frozen in a perpetual grin. Honestly, whatever she thinks he is he obviously isn’t, and this is just gettin’ boring. All this stuff about serpents and reeds and destroying the sinners and blah, blah, blah.

“Yeah, well,” Dyaus says and startles the woman into silence, “’s been fun, sis, but I really gotta leave.” She’s gaping at the sound of his voice. Not exactly what she expected from a body like that? Oh well. “Catch you later, mebbe. Not so much boring stuff next time. Don’t think I’m who you think I am, anyway.”

“Wait, wait!” the woman says, “what do you mean you’re not who I think you are? You’re a messenger of god, appeared at my behest as the approach of the holy mother—“

“Meh,” Cielo shrugs as best he can, “not my thing.” He debates the merits of turning back into Cielo and walking out the door, electric-blue dreadlocks bouncing (and maybe that would shut her up, but probably not) versus… Oh, never mind. Dyaus smashes out a stained-glass window with his feet and streaks out and up into the sky.
Claudia stands somewhere below, staring up at the wreckage and gaping like a fish.

**

Heat’s pretty sure this isn’t Nirvana. It’s too cold, for one thing, and for another it’s foggy, dim, abandoned and it seems to be snowing. He’s not exactly sure why he’s lying in the street, but he’s sure not going to find Sera any faster by sitting still. Heat gets to his feet and turns back and forth. The whole place looks the same to him, so he picks a direction and starts walking.

The street ends in a canyon. It goes down deeper than Muladhara. Heat can’t see the bottom.

“…Shit,” he says, and tries a different direction. He has to backtrack through the street and he takes the time to notice that everything’s falling apart. It looks like nobody’s lived here in years. Stuff’s in worse repair than the Junkyard, and for someplace that wasn’t a constant warzone that was saying something.

It’s about then that the sirens start going, and when Heat looks up to find the source he sees the whole sky go black. Things around him… Change. The street turns into rusty grating and bladed fans sprout up from the darkness like malignant growths. The air goes heavy and strange. It smells like blood, like rust and disease, like fire and dust. Heat curls his lip and ignores it. Like hell some weird town is going to scare him.

There are monsters here. Heat thinks they’re asuras at first, but they don’t seem to be human at all. Still though, they’re easy. Agni tears through them like they’re made of paper, and when they try to swarm him he pulls out Maragidyne and watches them all squeal and writhe as they fry. Both heads grin as he skins something that’s sort of like a dog with his claws. It tastes a little odd, but Heat’s not picky.

And then, of course, he gets shot. In the shoulder, and it barely bleeds, but still.

“Hey,” Heat says, still Agni, his voice almost the same but rougher, “fuck off. I’m eating.”

The guy almost drops his gun in shock and Heat grins. It’s an unsettling sight.

“You—you talk?!”

Heat’s eating with one mouth, talking with the other. Argilla’s told him that it’s rude, but whatever. “I do,” he says, “they don’t. Hungry?” he holds out a chunk of meat in one hand.

“N—no. That’s okay,” the man says, “I’m good.”

Agni shrugs. “Your loss,” he says, and when the body’s stripped clean he turns back into Heat and spits out a chunk of bone that had lodged in his teeth. “So, who the fuck are you and where the fuck am I?”

“I’m Harry Mason. You’re in Silent Hill,” Harry pauses, weighing the fact that this guy’s some kind of demon against the possibility that he might know something, “have you seen my daughter? Short black hair, just turned seven—“

Heat frowns. “Black hair,” he says, “but the only one with black hair is—are you Sera’s father?”

“Sera? My daughter’s name is Cheryl,” Harry says, “are you looking for someone too?”

“Hmm,” Heat says to himself, “Sera, Cheryl… They sound a little alike. Maybe,” he looks up at Harry, “I’m looking for Sera. Short black hair, about so tall?” He holds up a hand, “seen her?”

“I haven’t,” Harry says, “what are—sorry, who are you?”

“I’m Heat,” Heat says, and looks up and down the street, “where you headed?”

Harry squints at his map. “Alchemilla Hospital,” he says, “I think Cheryl might be there.”

“I think I’ll come along,” Heat grins wide and Harry looks uneasy, “don’t worry about fighting shit off. Agni’s always hungry.”

coppersea @ 2007-12-25T20:38:00

2007-12-26T03:42:41Z

Merry Christmas everybody! (or holiday of your choice) :)

Music post

2007-12-17T03:06:25Z

Oh hay guyz, I'm still alive. :B

Here is some music, all to do with the NaNo story I'm... Still writing. In December. Yus.

Passage- Vienna Teng
Wine Red- The Hush Sound
Begirlich In Dem Hertzen Min- Helium Vola
Charis- Elend
Darker- Assemblage 23
Drought- Vienna Teng
Eric's Song- Vienna Teng
From the new world-9th Symphony-4th Movement - Antonin Dvorak
Full Chemical Gear- Jarhead (Thomas Newman)
El Funeral- Javier Navarrete
Further- VNV Nation
Gravity- Vienna Teng
Hide and Seek- Imogen Heap
The Last Day- Brian Eno
Lullabye for a Stormy Night- Vienna Teng
Monsters- Switchblade Symphony
Pistolero- Juno Reactor
Shibuya- Lost in Translation
Your Hand in Mine- Explosions in the Sky

NaNo 07

2007-11-29T03:23:55Z

AWWWWW YEAAAAAAAAAH and all that

Of course, the story won't be over for another 30000 words or so, so I have to keep writing, but never mind that

Sketchdump

2007-11-22T22:37:52Z

In this sketchdump:

-some character drawings and stuff for my NaNo novel! (comes with bonus painful death). Contains spoilers for... My NaNo novel? I guess? It's stuff that's already happened if you've been following along. v '_' v
-a monster!
-a totally sexy vector logo!

It's unfinished at the moment, but I'm pretty happy with how it's going. Helloooo vector art, you take too long to do.

I keep drawing monsters. I'm not sure why.

And now, NaNo character stuff. (If anyone wants to read it and hasn't been I've been posting it under friendslock)

I think this was the first doodle of Jonah that I did. It doesn't really look right- it's not quite him. I have this thing where I don't attach names to faces very easily so I doodle until I get something that looks like the character. If that makes sense. No it doesn't)

Oh shit painful death! (still not really Jonah.)

Jonah and Evan. Now I've got Jonah down pretty much as I imagine him, but Evan's not right at all. :B OH WELL

There was something else I meant to post about but I have forgotten it. :C

So, silent hill...

2007-11-16T04:54:30Z

Dear whatever american company is making Silent Hill V:

Stop trying to make the characters sexy. Please. Just stop it. In the past Silent Hill has made a point of having ordinary or even ugly characters. The only reason Maria wore a miniskirt was because she was supposed to be the opposite of Mary, and Maria was still kind of creepy-looking! Which was the point! Sexy for the sake of it has no place in the town that drags all your secrets, fears and shames kicking and screaming into the open. And then tries to devour you.

Oddly, the main character of SH5 looks like a byproduct of James Sunderland and Dean Winchester. To illustrate this point, this picture I found:

The monsters are also either cribbed from previous Silent Hills, a direct copy from the movie, or distinctly... Underwhelming. It makes me sad. :C

The same goes for silent hill: origins, whose newest poster seems to be Lisa's boobs.

On an unrelated topic: I got rulinian's Dumbledore sticker in the mail! Awesome. The little Pyramid Head doodle too. :D

Na. No. Wri. Mo.

2007-11-01T05:24:21Z

I have a few tabs open: the NaNo adopt-a-title thread, a google search on the properties of blood, a page about Czernobog/Bielebog myth, and the wikipedia entries for "Apocalypse", "Theory of Everything", "Quantum Physics", "Quantum" and "String theory".

As you can see, it's nanowrimo time again. 50000 words here we go awwwwwright