Vegetarian Sushi

Title: The Dragon and the Photograph
Series: Star Trek (XI)
Summary: The desire to adorn one's living quarters with images of loved ones was an irrational, emotional human characteristic. Spock was half-human. (Kirk/Spock Pre-slash)
Rating: G
Length: 3,640 words

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This is my NaNoWriMo novel, so I may not be posting regularly during November, but I liked the first chapter at least, and I will edit and post the rest sporadically during the next couple months. 

And I'm searching for a beta, so if anyone is interested, please message me!

Title: Ghost of You
Rating: T
Genre: Angst, Romance
Summary: Sherlock survives the explosion at the pool. John, however, is not as lucky, and he suddenly finds himself as a ghost, a mere imprint of himself. He struggles to adjust to the afterlife, and as he searches for whatever is holding him from moving on, he finds a new role for himself. 
Warning(s): Character death, drug use.
Length: ~1,700 in this part. (Potentially 30 parts) 

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Title: Say It
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC-verse) John/Sherlock
Genre: Romance, Angst 
Length: ~700 words 
Summary: Sherlock never said it. 

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Sherlock never said it.
 
When they were curled up on the couch together with Sherlock’s dark curls sprawled out across John’s lap, John would run his fingers through his hair and watch the light dance across Sherlock’s skin. He would feel a gentleness bubble up in his chest and wash over his entirety, so that he couldn’t help himself from smiling absently and murmuring softly: “I love you, Sherlock.”
 
But Sherlock only ever replied with a nonchalant “Hmmm.”
 
Even in the throes of passion, when John’s toes curled with the force of the pleasure that sparked through the length of his body, John would cry out: “A-ah . . . Sherlock! I love you!”
 
And if he were very lucky, Sherlock might sometimes gasp out a “John!”, but never anything more.
 
Sometimes, when Sherlock stared past him unseeingly, or sprinted off from a crime scene without a second glance, John thought that perhaps the silence reflected an absence of that warmth in Sherlock’s heart. Perhaps he did not respond because he simply did not feel it. After all, Sherlock did not need anyone.
 
It was always John who always found himself searching for Sherlock’s company. Sherlock, on the other hand, would be silent for days, completely oblivious to whatever John did. 
 
John made Sherlock tea every morning before leaving for work, and in return, Sherlock experimented on John’s dinner, forcing John to go to bed hungry.
 
John would get anxious and irritable whenever Sherlock vanished, worrying incessantly until Sherlock returned. Once, John didn’t come home for two nights straight due to an emergency at the surgery, and Sherlock hadn’t texted even once.
 
“Sherlock,” John had said once. “Why do you never say that you love me? Or even that I’m important to you?”
 
Sherlock had fixed him with a hard gaze, then – but sometimes, when John thought about it, he fancied that there was a little bit of pain behind those eyes. “Does it even matter that much?”
 
“Well, yes, of course! How do I know I’m not just an object of mild interest, Sherlock? That I’m not just going to be tossed aside when you find something more interesting? You don’t particularly act like I matter to you half the time!”
 
John hadn’t waited for a response after that; he stomped up to his room and slammed the door, leaving Sherlock silent in the living room.
 
That night, a soft sonata floated through the cracks in the wall, soothing John’s tormented mind and slowly lulling him to sleep. Only when the sky had turned to a dull shade of dusty gray in the morning light did Sherlock finally drop the bow from the strings, letting the last few notes fade away.
 
Some nights, when John had forgotten to run his fingers through Sherlock’s curls that day, Sherlock would pointedly drop his head into John’s lap and stare up at him until John laughed softly and dropped his hand to Sherlock’s hair.
 
Once, John had complained loudly about being allergic to mold. The next day, he caught Sherlock throwing out all his mold-related experiments.
 
Sarah eventually informed John that Sherlock called the surgery each day John did not return home on time, apparently choosing to face his distaste of the telephone rather than disturb John while he was working. (So, please, could John call Sherlock so he stopped tying up the clinic’s main line? Wonderful.)
 
And finally, on one chilly December night, John awoke to find a sleeping Sherlock cuddle up close to his bare chest, as if trying to wrap himself in John’s arms. With his chin tucked down and his forehead pressed to John’s collarbone, he looked innocent and vulnerable. Unbidden, a soft wave of affection broke over John, and he leaned forward to press a soft kiss to the top of Sherlock’s head.
 
“I love you,” he murmured.
 
Sherlock shifted slightly, and then nuzzled in closer with a happy sigh.
 
John smiled ruefully. At times like this, he understood: Sherlock was essentially a child, hurt and scorned by the world, and he had distanced himself from his emotions to protect himself. He did not trust himself to display them when they could be turned against him like they had been so many times before. Even when it was just John, whom he trusted entirely, there was some age-old defense mechanism blocking Sherlock from letting the words slip from his mouth. No matter what he felt on the inside, he just couldn’t say it.
 
But that was okay. At times like this, it didn’t need to be said. John knew.

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Notes: May or may not be revisited, depending on my mood. I haven't written in ages, so I'm just trying to get back into it! 

In English class, we have to write a reflective narrative about some event in our life that left us with some sort of understanding. I'm not quite sure what I want to write about - I already sort of twisted some events around for the first one, but now she wants us to do a second narrative as well, and I'm fresh out of ideas. Well, actually, I know what 'truth' I want to write about, but I have no clue what event should trigger it. The truth that I want to write about is that my happiness is directly proportional to the love I feel at any given point in time. Unfortunately, though, I don't know how to make one event describe this, seeing as I want to discuss how there was that gap in freshman and sophomore year in which I had no friends, really, and how that contrasts between eighth grade and this year, in which I am at my happiest.

Perhaps the easiest way to describe this would be through my binders. In eighth grade, when we were school shopping, I bought an extra binder on a whim for my 'personal stuff'. I don't know exactly what I'd really planned to put in it, but I labelled it and decorated it with a bunch of stickers and pictures I printed off the internet, and I brought it in to school with me. Eventually, that binder did begin to fill. It collected print-outs of silly fanfictions that either I or a friend found, a few things I'd written (but not much - those stayed in notebooks or on the computer), screenshots, inside jokes, and above all, Val's drawings. Every time she drew a picture, I would put it in that binder, and as the year lagged on, the binder grew and grew. That first binder is overflowing with drawings and sketches - and Val has told me that if I ever let her see those drawings, she will burn them all. Ah, well. Anyhow, I remember eighth grade as one of the happiest times of my life. Back then, I felt completely at peace and optimistic for the future to come. I small group of friends who did everything together, and I distinctly remember thinking "'friends' is the most beautiful word in the world."

Freshman and sophmore year had to come along, however. For some reason, I chose not to get a personal binder those years . . . but it didn't really matter so much, considering that all my friends had begun to drift. What would I have done with a personal binder? Fill it with my own stuff? Really, what kind of 'personal binder' is actually filled with personal things?  But those years were not fun for me. I was depressed; I kind of just lagged through life, not really caring much about anything. I just was.

Junior year - I was cleaning my room, and I happened across my personal binder from eighth grade. I flipped through it for hours, just fingering all the pages and remembering where everything came from. It was certainly one of the most incredible experiences I'd had. But I resolved to get a new binder. I biked down to Stop and Shop the next day and bought a bright pink binder with a small breast cancer icon in the bottom left corner. Jeff made fun of me for having a pink binder, but hey, there's nothing wrong with supporting the fight against breast cancer. Or being girly for that matter. But I digress. I began to draw. There were three sections to my new personal binder - My stuff, Val's Stuff, and Random. I asked Val to send me more drawings - just scans, even - and I printed out a number of her emails. My new binder began to grow, and I could pull it out at any time and let it fall open to something beautiful, something made by someone I love. I also got better a making binders that year. It wasn't just drawings anymore - anything I saw and liked, anything that was important to me, it went into the binder. My binder from junior year holds a small braided 'ring' that a sweet friend of mine made for me; it has pictures from Anime Boston and ConnectiCon and has the Hetalia trading cards I'm not even sure I want. It has my first doujinshi.  My eyes opened to all the beautiful things I could put in my binder, and it filled quickly.

My junior binder retired in September.

My next binder was in my hands within hours of the last one retiring. My new one is decorated with a binder cover I designed myself, a large ghost sticker given to me by Val's little sister, and a number of bishounen pictures that I printed off the netz. This binder has six sections - My Stuff, Savathus' Stuff, Carly's Stuff, Val's Stuff, Katrina's Stuff, and Random. And I want to add more sections - one for Rose, for example, maybe one for Samantha . . . And it is filled with a number of odds and ends. I have a postcard from Russia, a postcard from the Tatry Mountains, sent to me by Savathus when she was on vacation with her now ex-girlfriend (give a moment to celebrate, kthx). I have the wristband from the theme park I went to with Carly - you know, one of those brightly-colored paper things you wear to show you've paid? Yeah, I kept it. I have the ribbon from the birthday gift I received from Carly. I have homemade bookmarks and a tiny Lithuania doll I comissioned.

And life is beautiful. Whenever I am upset, I let the binder fall open onto my lap, and I know exactly what's beautiful about the world again. I remember what I love, and suddenly my heart soars.
 

I think I know what to write about now.

 

 

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Wow. It's been a while since I last posted . . . and, seriously, I guess I should have kept updating, since so much has happened. I'd like to have a record of things, but this will take me forever to jot down. I suppose I'd just better try.

Each year of high school seems to have been a universe in its own. Freshman year was the year of depression, of loneliness, for my best friend had moved away, and all my other friends drifted. Sophmore year was the year of studies - it was when I wrote obsessively and got A+'s without even trying. Junior year was the resulting year of laziness, where I spent hours on the computer without getting much homework done at all. And Senior year . . . Senior year is a roller coaster.

My mother has gotten far worse; she fully believes I am out to get her, that posessions are stolen from her everyday. The house is a mess, insanitary, and I am counting down the days until I can leave for college. On the other hand, my father and I have gotten much closer; he understands the unpredictability and dependency of my mother, and he's been extraordinarily supportive. For example, he bought me a tablet for digital drawing, and drives me to anime conventions and lets me ramble about things without needing to understand completely. Not to mention, of course, that my dad's house is a liveable environment.

Unfortunately, I can't move in with my dad, because I need to finish high school where I am, and I don't have a license. It's my own fault, but whatever. As a result, however, I live in the dumps for two weeks until I go to my dad's for the weekend, where it is absolutely beautiful. It's almost a normal family there.

Furthermore, I've discovered the world of Hetalia roleplay. And the community on Facebook is brilliant . . . I honestly love those people so much. Too much.

I roleplay Lithuania, and there's a beautiful darling who roleplays my Poland. She goes by Savathus, and she is the biggest sweetie I've ever met. I love her to death. I could rant for days about how much I love her and worry about her, but I suppose I'll just shorten it to this - she is one of the best friends I have, and I love her. [Platonically.] Unfortunately, again, I worry about her. She is bipolar and refuses to take her medications. Today, she was in a depressive phase, and as a result, she drank all the alcohol in the house, cut herself, and had suicidal thoughts. I'm scared of death of losing her, but I can't force her to take her medications. All I can do is tell her to hang in there, until I can come get her - because for God's sake, I swear I'll do that. I'm already learning Polish for her (she lives in Poland), and studying bipolar disorder. And I know it sounds stupid and flighty and naiive, but I really love her to death and I need to take care of her and make sure she's okay.

Also, last week, a member of the community posted at 1 in the morning on Sunday that she was going to commit suicide by noon. That day was a nightmare. I spent hours posting on her wall and crying and comforting other freaked-out members of the community, and it was only in the last half hour that I thought to PM her Prussia and ask for her address. The girl lived in my state, so I called 911, and they got there in time, but it was the most stressful situation I've ever been in.

That weekend, I didn't finish my English essay, and I asked for an extension. My teacher gave me a lecture on putting school first, even though I explained the suicide. WTF.
 

Speaking of school, that's another issue. I am president of two clubs this year, but I hate it, because all I want to do is get home before Savathus has to go to bed. Stupid time difference. But at the same time, I do love the presidencies,  because my work for the past three years has finally payed off, and I do love those clubs. Additionally, I am in 4 AP classes, plus Orchestra and Calculus, and I hate it fully. I have way too much work. Bio moves too fast. My Literature teacher is a bitch (see above anecdote). So is my Calculus teacher. Western Civ is the only class I enjoy. Spanish is okay, but I'm not allowed to draw . . . yesterday I had a nervous breakdown from too much homework, and it's only week three. Crap.

But at the same time, I am enjoying this year, somehow. I have classes with some of the most amazing people, like Samantha, who just gives me whiplash to realize that people so intelligent and witty and kind as her exist, and Christy, who is just a loveable doll. I hope I'll adjust soon and the stress will diminish.

In the meantime, anyone know how to get Savathus over to the States to live with me ASAP? She needs her college education, too . . .

I went to a Hetalia gathering today in NYC. I'm totally exhausted right now because of it, but dude, I need to write some stuff down before I forget . . . it was one of those epic experiences that was just packed with awesome event after awesome event.

So, I went as China. I was going to go as Lithuania, but my Lithuania wig didn't come in on time. (Which totally sucked, since I really wanted to show off my sewing on my Lithuania cosplay . . . oh, well, it's not the only time I can cosplay Liet.) And I realized later I really should have done Liet anyway, since there were two other Liets, and neither cared as much as I did about the accuracy of the hair. XD Anyhow . . . I did have a China twin who had literally bought the same random top from an Asian store, just in a different color. I'd chatted with her on FaceBook a little beforehand, but it was cool to get to meet her, y'know? And she was ADORABLE, just a little country girl, who honestly thought there was an earthquake when a subway went under the park we were having our picnic out.

I really got along with everyone there. I didn't like the Russia so much, but that's okay, because it was just more like she bothered me than I hated her, and we could still talk . . . sort of. XD But, yeah, like everyone there like RussLit, which I can't stand, but they were all really nice about it. In the past, when I've run into RussLit fans, they've all been "How can you not like it?!?!" ('Cept for Val, of course, but that's Val.), but here, everyone just nodded and moved on. Actually, one of the Lithuania's gave me a hug because I metioned it traumatized me. I think it was really sweet of them.

I brought food for the picnic, and I got a pretty good reception. I was pleased, although I wish more people had eaten them. I still have a ton of spinach wantons left over, and I have no idea what to do with them. >.>

I'm still chatting with everyone on Facebook, so I hope I can solidify these new relationships! <3

 

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Tomorrow there is a Hetalia meet up in NYC, which my dad said I could go to. :D I was going to go with a friend, who just got back from college, but she's busy, unfortunately . . . I suppose I'll have to go alone - not that I probably won't find someone to latch on while I'm there. XD 
 

Anyhow, I finished my gakuen!Lithuania cosplay just in time for everything, and I'm pleased with how it came out. My sewing skills have increased drastically. :3 But unfortunately, the wig still hasn't come in yet . . . there's a slim chance it might come in during the course of the day, so I have my fingers crossed, but otherwise, I suppose I'll have to as China. I mean, it's not the end of the world, and I have nothing against my China cosplay . . . I just wanted to show off my sewing. ^_^'

I wonder where the wig is. I ordered it two weeks ago, with priority shipping. It should be here by now. I guess I'll go try to figure out how to use tracking.

Hm. If I had a do-over card . . . well, I think the one thing I would really like to do is to make sure I get to live in the same town as Val

(♥), but I'd rather her live where she is now than have her stay in my town; her new town is so much better for her. So, it wouldn't really be a do-over, seeing as I can't think of any way for me to get to follow her out of the town I live in now, but if I could, I suppose that's what I would use my do-over card for.

I suppose my first instinct in regards to the do-over card would be to give it away; I'm generally happy with my life, and at first, nothing would come to mind that I would like to change. However, as I think about it, I realize there are several things in my life I would like to be a little different. The question about parents for example: How would having a different set of parents affect me? Would I want to get rid of my parents? That's a difficult question to answer; how can I say that I wish I wasn't born to my mother when she is my mother, and I love her, and yet, how can I say that I am glad I was born to my mother, when everyday, I come home to a house that is positively unsanitary to live in and have to convince my mother that she will not die within the month, and nor should she go back to India? I suppose I would just wish to have my mother healthier - but I don't know if a do-over card can really do that.