![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
confutaaaaaatis, malediiiiiictis
Acquired today:
1 hundred-dollar gift voucher for the Co-op bookshop (I am drooling)
1 large crush on the Bettany-lookalike bass soloist. He has a scarf, and gangly legs, and blond hair and a funny smile. Shuttup.
~
In less than twelve hours I will be losing seventeen inches of my hair.
Ohgod
Hopefully it will be looking something like this.
ETA: Whoa. I didn't expect this fic to be invading my head again. Go figure.
Cookies: mostly on the same topic, though spread over the story's chronology. Appeared in my head this morning during psychology. Yes, very apt.
~
Fuuma lifted his head from the cards, finally. “I’m a textbook case of severe depression, asshole,” he said. “I even have a therapist and shit.”
“A therapist?”
“Yeah, I’m her fucking pride and joy.” Fuuma’s fingers rifled the pack absently, over and over again. “You should have seen her at our first session, when I told her about Kamui.” He affected a high, breathless voice. “So this boy you fell in love with…you grew up with him? He was like a brother?”
“You’re fucked up, all right,” Seishirou informed him brightly.
“Pot, kettle, etcetera.” Fuuma shuffled with the ease of long practice. “You could practically see the dollar bills appearing in this woman’s eyes, although she managed to hold off on writing the thesis while I was still on the couch.”
~
“So.” Her voice was warm and breathless. Fuuma’s imitation had been uncannily accurate. “What would you like to tell me?”
“Well.” Seishirou squinted at the ceiling. “I killed my mother. I emotionally destroyed an innocent boy and then killed his sister. A few years later I let him punch a hole in my chest. He thinks I’m dead. I think I’m in love with him.” He turned his head to look at her. “And I’m getting a crick in my neck. Your couch is too short.”
~
Her pencil moved in a furious rush of scribbling; then a pause, where she chewed the end, wide-eyed.
“Um,” she said. “You’re a sociopath!” It sounded like it should have had Congratulations! tacked onto the front, followed by flashing lights and a car on a revolving platform. With a woman, maybe. In a bikini.
Seishirou blinked.
“I knew that,” he said impatiently.
~
“Sakurazuka-san,” the doctor said, a note of desperation starting to enter her voice. “I’m not a therapist.”
“I know,” Seishirou said. “I went to one of those. She told me I was in love with…no, afraid of…no, I can’t even remember.”
“Why me?”
He thought about that for a while; actually turned it over, in his mind, without letting the smart comments invade. The answer surprised him.
“You remind me of my mother,” he said. “When she was sane. Which wasn’t particularly often, I’ll admit, but the point stands.”
“This isn’t going in the direction of an Oedipus complex, is it?” Dr Asuka asked, sounding wary. “No – Yuki, sorry, I –” She gave a half-laugh, half-sigh. “Well. My secretary now has all sorts of suspicions as to the sordid details of my personal life, I’m sure.”
~
Fuuma is an abusive, sullen little bitch. Hee. Looks like I have something else to work on during the holidays.
1 hundred-dollar gift voucher for the Co-op bookshop (I am drooling)
1 large crush on the Bettany-lookalike bass soloist. He has a scarf, and gangly legs, and blond hair and a funny smile. Shuttup.
~
In less than twelve hours I will be losing seventeen inches of my hair.
Ohgod
Hopefully it will be looking something like this.
ETA: Whoa. I didn't expect this fic to be invading my head again. Go figure.
Cookies: mostly on the same topic, though spread over the story's chronology. Appeared in my head this morning during psychology. Yes, very apt.
~
Fuuma lifted his head from the cards, finally. “I’m a textbook case of severe depression, asshole,” he said. “I even have a therapist and shit.”
“A therapist?”
“Yeah, I’m her fucking pride and joy.” Fuuma’s fingers rifled the pack absently, over and over again. “You should have seen her at our first session, when I told her about Kamui.” He affected a high, breathless voice. “So this boy you fell in love with…you grew up with him? He was like a brother?”
“You’re fucked up, all right,” Seishirou informed him brightly.
“Pot, kettle, etcetera.” Fuuma shuffled with the ease of long practice. “You could practically see the dollar bills appearing in this woman’s eyes, although she managed to hold off on writing the thesis while I was still on the couch.”
~
“So.” Her voice was warm and breathless. Fuuma’s imitation had been uncannily accurate. “What would you like to tell me?”
“Well.” Seishirou squinted at the ceiling. “I killed my mother. I emotionally destroyed an innocent boy and then killed his sister. A few years later I let him punch a hole in my chest. He thinks I’m dead. I think I’m in love with him.” He turned his head to look at her. “And I’m getting a crick in my neck. Your couch is too short.”
~
Her pencil moved in a furious rush of scribbling; then a pause, where she chewed the end, wide-eyed.
“Um,” she said. “You’re a sociopath!” It sounded like it should have had Congratulations! tacked onto the front, followed by flashing lights and a car on a revolving platform. With a woman, maybe. In a bikini.
Seishirou blinked.
“I knew that,” he said impatiently.
~
“Sakurazuka-san,” the doctor said, a note of desperation starting to enter her voice. “I’m not a therapist.”
“I know,” Seishirou said. “I went to one of those. She told me I was in love with…no, afraid of…no, I can’t even remember.”
“Why me?”
He thought about that for a while; actually turned it over, in his mind, without letting the smart comments invade. The answer surprised him.
“You remind me of my mother,” he said. “When she was sane. Which wasn’t particularly often, I’ll admit, but the point stands.”
“This isn’t going in the direction of an Oedipus complex, is it?” Dr Asuka asked, sounding wary. “No – Yuki, sorry, I –” She gave a half-laugh, half-sigh. “Well. My secretary now has all sorts of suspicions as to the sordid details of my personal life, I’m sure.”
~
Fuuma is an abusive, sullen little bitch. Hee. Looks like I have something else to work on during the holidays.
no subject
no subject
Thank you for giggles ♥
no subject
Locks of Love (http://www.locksoflove.org/)?