And if I were to paint a picture of a woman, it would be you.
More House!babble. ZOMG. Wilson argues to Cuddy that House has Asperger's Syndrome and I know what that is! Ha ha! But I will not say how because I'm pretty sure that is not something I should announce to everyone without permission. House throwing all of Wilson's things out -- actually, House blitzkreiging the most opportune spot to annoy Cuddy. >.> Ha ha.
I also love learing about parasites, seeing as they are a large part of owning such large animals. Hadn't heard of those raccoon parasites before.
Have been downloading and reading the Bleach manga like nobody's business. I love Renji. Renji does it for me -- being all moody and irratable as he is. Plus the tattoos of doom. They are EVERYWHERE. I don't know why I find the excessive ink attractive, but this isn't the first time.
First one shot is Bleach, rather done. Second is House, need some editing and suggestions.
Sugar
He's always thought that Rukia was too nice when she described what was happening when she did her job. She made souls want to move on, to head to the Soul Society. She could convince them that they were, indeed, going to find peace. He just felt better about smashing in skulls then counseling some grief stricken soul.
That didn't mean he only got to smash in skulls, he still had to counsel grief stricken souls. He loved getting the ones that had been rich in life; death made all souls equal in a way that few of them could understand.
He loved to yell some prickly thing at them when he brought the hilt of the sword down on them. "You're going to live in a poor neighborhood where they expect you to work for your meals."
Or maybe it was those who had been terminally ill and practically hunted him down. "Just shut up and hold still. I said shut up; you'll find out about the damn afterlife in a second."
Then again, the ones who had died in weird ways, or suddenly or had been killed on purpose were always full of questions. Why me? Why me? Poor me. Poor me. "You deserved it, bastard."
No, indeed, he'd never been good at passing on souls. Children always gave him the most trouble because they were the ones that took it hard. They often didn't understand what happened for a while, and the ones he always seemed to get were completely oblivious to the fact that they were dead. Then they wanted a hug and for someone to tell them it was all right.
He'd never been particularly nice about that either, even if he tried. "You're dead kid, deal."
Then hope that the next assignment would, finally, finally be skull smashing. Renji growled as he was forced to look at another lost soul.
He would never be able to sugar coat things like Rukia could.
Think Hard
Being a doctor, Allison Cameron is used to being the voice of reason. She is used to being the one in charge, the one who knows what's wrong. And now, she's not quite sure anymore.
It doesn't seem to her, asthetically, that anything is wrong, because she supposes that nothing really is. She feels she has found her voice as of late, been able to voice her opinoins a little better and get things done. Perfect. Everything was perfect. Except the daily mind games she was playing with herself.
Being as it was, that she was no longer in high school and considerably less hormonal, she expected that she would be over such trivial matters as wondering about who liked her and who didn't. It hadn't stopped her; it should have stopped her, she felt, as she felt things were careening out of her control.
Feelings are tricky things for the mind to come to terms to. Her eyes, her mind, was irrevocably drawn to her employer, though she knew it was wrong, in a sense, to be with someone that much older than herself. But this wasn't going to stop her mind. It was drawn, it was made up, it was refusing to move on the mattter.
Figures he couldn't have cared either way. It was just another fun way to make fun of the girl who liked to play with the big boys. Pick, pick, pick. Tease, tease, tease. Her hatred for him was growing on a steady day to day basis. At the same time, she was still attracted, still wanted to make this work because that relationship was something that she was sure she could be in control of; something that she could predict.
She probably could have.
It was the relationship that she couldn't control that bothered her. The one that was a series of moments, good and bad, that were spontaneous. The time where mere fragments of character were captured instead of the whole. A mystery. One her mind could really care less for because it already had everything figured out. Cameron didn't like suprises and she didn't like to beat at her own game.
It was her game, after all. She narrowed her eyes at Chase. Insignificant, snivelling Chase who felt the need to still give her that utterly hopeless look over morning coffee. Stupid, ridiculous, hopeful boy. And she would call him boy; he was in her eyes. He wished, she knew, for the Cameron who was still soft and quiet and didn't throw his words back in his face every time he said something.
So when she stopped feeling all unstable when House swaggered into the room and started feeling unstable when Chase meekly tumbled in, she felt it was time for a change. After all, the head may rule the heart.
I also love learing about parasites, seeing as they are a large part of owning such large animals. Hadn't heard of those raccoon parasites before.
Have been downloading and reading the Bleach manga like nobody's business. I love Renji. Renji does it for me -- being all moody and irratable as he is. Plus the tattoos of doom. They are EVERYWHERE. I don't know why I find the excessive ink attractive, but this isn't the first time.
First one shot is Bleach, rather done. Second is House, need some editing and suggestions.
Sugar
He's always thought that Rukia was too nice when she described what was happening when she did her job. She made souls want to move on, to head to the Soul Society. She could convince them that they were, indeed, going to find peace. He just felt better about smashing in skulls then counseling some grief stricken soul.
That didn't mean he only got to smash in skulls, he still had to counsel grief stricken souls. He loved getting the ones that had been rich in life; death made all souls equal in a way that few of them could understand.
He loved to yell some prickly thing at them when he brought the hilt of the sword down on them. "You're going to live in a poor neighborhood where they expect you to work for your meals."
Or maybe it was those who had been terminally ill and practically hunted him down. "Just shut up and hold still. I said shut up; you'll find out about the damn afterlife in a second."
Then again, the ones who had died in weird ways, or suddenly or had been killed on purpose were always full of questions. Why me? Why me? Poor me. Poor me. "You deserved it, bastard."
No, indeed, he'd never been good at passing on souls. Children always gave him the most trouble because they were the ones that took it hard. They often didn't understand what happened for a while, and the ones he always seemed to get were completely oblivious to the fact that they were dead. Then they wanted a hug and for someone to tell them it was all right.
He'd never been particularly nice about that either, even if he tried. "You're dead kid, deal."
Then hope that the next assignment would, finally, finally be skull smashing. Renji growled as he was forced to look at another lost soul.
He would never be able to sugar coat things like Rukia could.
Think Hard
Being a doctor, Allison Cameron is used to being the voice of reason. She is used to being the one in charge, the one who knows what's wrong. And now, she's not quite sure anymore.
It doesn't seem to her, asthetically, that anything is wrong, because she supposes that nothing really is. She feels she has found her voice as of late, been able to voice her opinoins a little better and get things done. Perfect. Everything was perfect. Except the daily mind games she was playing with herself.
Being as it was, that she was no longer in high school and considerably less hormonal, she expected that she would be over such trivial matters as wondering about who liked her and who didn't. It hadn't stopped her; it should have stopped her, she felt, as she felt things were careening out of her control.
Feelings are tricky things for the mind to come to terms to. Her eyes, her mind, was irrevocably drawn to her employer, though she knew it was wrong, in a sense, to be with someone that much older than herself. But this wasn't going to stop her mind. It was drawn, it was made up, it was refusing to move on the mattter.
Figures he couldn't have cared either way. It was just another fun way to make fun of the girl who liked to play with the big boys. Pick, pick, pick. Tease, tease, tease. Her hatred for him was growing on a steady day to day basis. At the same time, she was still attracted, still wanted to make this work because that relationship was something that she was sure she could be in control of; something that she could predict.
She probably could have.
It was the relationship that she couldn't control that bothered her. The one that was a series of moments, good and bad, that were spontaneous. The time where mere fragments of character were captured instead of the whole. A mystery. One her mind could really care less for because it already had everything figured out. Cameron didn't like suprises and she didn't like to beat at her own game.
It was her game, after all. She narrowed her eyes at Chase. Insignificant, snivelling Chase who felt the need to still give her that utterly hopeless look over morning coffee. Stupid, ridiculous, hopeful boy. And she would call him boy; he was in her eyes. He wished, she knew, for the Cameron who was still soft and quiet and didn't throw his words back in his face every time he said something.
So when she stopped feeling all unstable when House swaggered into the room and started feeling unstable when Chase meekly tumbled in, she felt it was time for a change. After all, the head may rule the heart.