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Dec. 19th, 2009 | 09:07 pm
mood: baked

These things just sort of happen, sometimes. [NSFW]


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Dec. 8th, 2009 | 10:42 am
mood: pissed offpissed off

These rumors are getting out of hand. It's time I said something.

I would like to categorically deny that Dr. Holiday Wednesday and I had sexual congress atop the coffin of our late, lamented colleague Dr. Julia MacLeod just before the funeral. It's been months and the rumors are still flying.


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Aug. 6th, 2007 | 09:36 pm
mood: regretful

It's been more than a year since I wrote in this. Lost the bookmark, lost in chaos. I shan't apologize for this. I don't know why I'm here again, typing into this web form.

Today I did something else I haven't done in a long while. I felt... regret. For all the 'subjects' I've 'sacrificed', since Holly took me under her wing. I must be getting old. I sat there at my desk, turning a scalpel over and over, and remembered them. Each and every one. Their faces, the sound of their voices. Their screams.

I haven't done that in a while, either.

I want to. I want to slink out into this rainy night and find someone I can convince myself deserves it. Someone driven to a moment of brutal passion, who I can believe is ruled by that all the time. Someone I can convince myself the world will be better off without.

My cunt twitches just thinking about it. Oh, yes, I get off on it. Holly trained my initial revulsion so well. I can't blame her; it was lurking inside long before she brought it out. I was the one who suggested we fuck on the grave of my first.

But it's wrong. So, so wrong. To take my bitter knife edge of hate and cut someone's life based on a moment's judgement. I elected myself Atropos so many times. Aren't I supposed to be more Aesculapius? I can't remember most of their names. I have to fight to remember some of the faces. Some, I couldn't. No matter how hard I tried.

I said I was done with that some time back. I still want to. I'm getting old.

Except I'm not. She left her mark on me that way, too. I'm still the same weight I was in college. Can't lose it. Can't gain it. I still have the shape that attracted her to me. And her subtle enhancements to it. I had no idea what I was getting into when I asked to be her student. None at all.

Even if I knew, I might have still done it, back then.

Oh, say it, you monster. I felt regret for all the people I've killed.


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Apr. 3rd, 2006 | 08:39 pm

Coney Island. We spent half the day at Coney Island. I'm stuffed full of corn dogs and don't want to think about moving.

Holly doesn't want to mention this at all. That little car only holds so much gas. We ran out. She had to be all brave and gallant and start walking up the road to the nearest gas station, after the argument about whether or not it was my fault it ran out earlier than she expected - I was the one holding the pump at the last stop.

I don't think she was very happy about being met by a guy from the gas station on his way out, either. It's amazing what modern celphones can do, isn't it?

They can take pictures, too.

I got bored waiting for Holly to get back, and decided to almost fulfill Ms. Iridium's request for nude photos of me. I'm afraid the location is a bit more exotic than my living room...

We had to go get something to wear, of course. Half our clothes got shredded the first day in the hotel, and I really didn't have anything but what I threw on when Holly showed up at my door. She really didn't like me trying to get her to stuff herself into tight jeans...

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Mar. 31st, 2006 | 09:45 pm
mood: wiggly

Holly's filling up her car. Again. This is something like the seventh time. It barely goes ten minutes without needing a new tank full.

And here I was settling in for a kind of joyfully lonely weekend. I wasn't even going to bother getting dressed, but now I'm somewhere in flyover country wearing the most garish thing I could find that was clean, watching Holly argue over the price of gas for this little deathtrap of a car.

I'm starting to like the speed. And the way the seat wraps around my hips. And the way the whole thing vibrates. Mmm. I wonder who she killed for it? She says she didn't. I don't believe her. I know my vicious little vixen.

I didn't even have a chance to raid my own store of the results of the lab. Holly barely gave me time to get dressed and find my purse, let alone bring any toys besides the laptop. Oh, we're going now. A terrible insane part of me wants to start sucking her cock while we're blazing along at I-don't-know-how-fast in all that noise...

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Mar. 30th, 2006 | 11:00 pm
mood: drunkdrunk

What on earth was I thinking when I decided to try this 'Warcraft' thing half my colleagues and staff can't stop talking about? It's so tedious. But it's been an empty, draining kind of month. I don't give a damn about my job or my work any more ever since nearly getting fired, and beating up on imaginary monsters is almost cathartic. There's always more of them.

I think I'll call in sick tomorrow and sit around naked, eating cookies and playing Warcraft. Oh, the dramatic life of a mad scientist...

So far I've resisted the temptation to pretend any of these monsters are anyone in particular. So far.

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Mar. 3rd, 2006 | 10:36 am

God, what a month. The lab got infested with netherworld solitons. I learnt more about demonology than I ever wanted to know. I had lots of slimy, bitey sex. I nearly got fired. It's no wonder I barely remembered Holly's birthday in time to steal some flowers from a particular mis-marked grave (yes, that one), buy some distressingly expensive chocolates, and get them in the post.

The whole lab still stinks of the residue of the cleanup. I should be inured to harsh chemical scents, what with all the specimens I sacrifice, but this reek lingers. In the backs of my eyeballs. I can't focus on anything, I can't stop smelling it. I opened a window but it's not clearing.

When Phil found out I'd brought someone who worked for what might well be a competitor into my lab, he went ballistic. I was officially fired for a couple of days, though he changed his mind before actually telling payroll about it. My key card still doesn't work; I have to slip through after someone else going in and out, or pick the back door's lock.

Oh, and apparently I am OSX. Go me. The catgirl part is right, at least.

You are Apple OS X. You are beautiful, stable, and a catgirl. It’s no wonder people love you. It's sometimes a little annoying that so many people stick with the obviously inferior Windows, but since you know you’re better, you don't let it bother you much.

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Feb. 4th, 2006 | 06:17 pm

What a peculiar day.

Last night, stirred by Holly's stories of seducing her 'Fluff Girl', I went out to one of the local dyke bars. Thank god it was an ebm/goth night; the last time I was there I was driven out by the 'urban contemporary' and all the chunky butches. I'm sure someone finds them cute, but give me a menacing femme fatalé over a passing woman any day. I suppose that's evident, given my most famous infatuation. But still.

I blew off the afternoon's work, spent a few hours getting an outfit together. It's been too long since I dressed up, but I've kept myself in fine shape; I dug through a few things I haven't worn since college and some new things and ended up as a looming caricature of a mad scientist, all black fishnets and corsetted frills under the long white leather labcoat I got at Christmas. Goggles on my forehead. So much eyeshadow I looked like a raccoon. I haven't gone goth in ages.

It got me fucked, too. I took home this lovely, slithery salamander who looked like as much of a vampire as I've felt lately. Her teeth were sharp.

So were mine.

It turned out that she works down the road from me at a little patagnostics/etherics company. "Glyphaxa". No wonder she looked familiar - I see her every week or two when we happen to go eat at the same place. We've been casually eyeing each other for months.

When I found out what she does, I said I'd been getting some menacing suggestions about Mystical Nastiness in the comments on my last entry, and jokingly asked if she'd like to swap looking my lab over for a few of the fruits of my researches. Imagine my surprise when she gave me a serious glance through this monocle she keeps in her purse and told me that yes, there did seem to be something hanging around me. Something nasty enough that she wanted to check out my lab, too.

She drew diagrams on the floor and danced around for a bit. Naked and chanting. I was curious about the techniques but I got more interested in her ass; I looked up from her lovely hips to see this... thing crouching in the center of my lab. Like an explosion in a seafood plant, stopped in time. And talking. In perfect Newscaster English. Aren't these sorts of things supposed to gibber ancient, forbidden tongues? No. It sounded like a talking head on CNN. It was perfectly polite. And everything about it scared the shit out of me.

She apologized, once she got me out from behind the fridge. The thing was gone. It was a "resonance node" they hadn't planned for in a big project last month, she said. Bugs in their rituals. Why my lab? She didn't have a good answer for that one. But it's probably not random chance, she thinks. Me or the location? Who knows?

I'll just have to bring Inhatti to the lab to investigate again, won't I?

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Feb. 2nd, 2006 | 11:42 pm
mood: drunkdrunk

I see that the security around the old campus is as tight as it always was.

Something in that stolen entry made me want to warn her, to let her know what she's letting herself in for. I've seen Holly on the prowl many times; I remember the times we did it together. And she sees something in this girl worth digging out. Possibly with a scalpel, possibly with worse methods. She's worked to be who she is, and will she want to be what Holly would turn her into?

Maybe I've gone soft as I aged. Maybe it's the time spent out of Holly's influence. Or maybe I am jealous, and want to try to spoil her fun. We planned, we knew how innocent and sweet some of our choices were before we pounced on them and had our way with them. Was I as sympathetic back then and burying it?

Maybe I just need a new intern. Too many nights alone in the lab - and that still affects me the way it did when I was working under Holly. The last intern turned tail around Thanksgiving and nobody applying for the position has looked half as useful as she was. Or as pliable.

Whatever. I know for sure that I'm getting tired of test tubes.

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Jan. 1st, 2006 | 02:27 pm

I'm writing this on my laptop in a hotel bed. One filled to bursting with vixen.

Holly burst into my family's house on Christmas day and did horrible things to them. Nothing that'll leave scars, especially if that memory eraser works as advertised. If not - well, I'll deal with that when I find out. It was lovely to make Cindy shut up about her children for once.

I dragged Holly off to the city after a couple of days. Called the company and told them I was taking some of that piled-up vacation after all. I wanted her to myself; I'm greedy that way. She told me this crazy story about spirits and visions over the past week. I'm inclined to think someone from the chemistry department slipped her something that abreacted with her highly artificial hormone profile, but the part about what I was doing is eerily accurate. I don't know what to think about this 'Wednesday Institute' part.

We spent New Year's Eve in a haze of induced pheremones and manipulated lust. I still ache deliciously. I think I'm going to wake her up soon and cram myself into the outfit she gave me, then we'll go terrorize a diner into giving us lots and lots of pancakes and waffles. I'll probably get syrup everywhere.

And I thought Christmas was going to be miserable...

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