Fanstuffs hosted at my fanjournal, daikontime, which is updated regularly. Fanart can also be found on my deviantArt. Currently fangirling for Watchmen, which constitutes the majority of fanworks, though you might find some K-pop shenanigans occasionally thrown in here and there. Fanfic for other fandoms can be found on my ff.net account.

K-Pop

Streamflow, Thaw
DBSK/Epik High → BloHo, Homin; R, smut; angst/drama.
Yunho finds it within his capacity to unfreeze while Tablo is on the rebound. But don’t tell manager-sshi.

I tried to have a comprehensive list of links here but LJ keeps screwing up my HTML. :\ So here's the link to the !fanart tag on daikontime .

Here be the index for the community un_love_you and the claim is for Watchmen: General Series. Trying to keep all fills under 1000 words... hopefully this will provide some good exercise in writing Dan/Rorschach and OzyCom. :D

01	You were right about me.	02	I was wrong about you.	03	This cancels out the hurt.
04	I need to want you.	05	You can be like me.	06	I want to need you.
07	Prove it.	08	I'm cruel.	09	Always wondered what this'd be like.
10	I'm broken.	11	Thought I needed this.	12	I'm drunk.
13	I want to hurt you.	14	I'm awake and you're breathing.	15	This is my desperation in action.
16	I want to break you.	17	Wish I didn't love you.	18	I pity you.
19	This isn't about you at all.	20	I hate you, you bitch.	21	You'll do.
22	I hate myself.	23	You remind me of me.	24	I want you to hate me.
25	You remind me of someone.	26	I can be like you.	27	Author's Choice.
28	Author's Choice.	29	Author's Choice.	30	Author's Choice.

I'm working on a Watchmen fic and was wondering if there's anybody out there who'd be willing to help me with some Hebrew? It would be verrrry much appreciated. Drop a line. :D Thanks!

No, that's not young FDR getting ready for a night out with the boys. Check out this awesome NYT photoshoot for some late-19th century hunkiness. :D Apparently Victorian fashion is making its way back into the mainstream, little by little! (well, in men's fashion, at least). The first time that men's fashion is going to beat womens' to the punch? I look forward to the day I can freely (oh the irony) wear a corset back on the street. Cyberpunkers should rejoice.

( Drawing the line between polish and pretension is trickier, especially when last year’s costume can be this year’s classic, and next year’s yawn. Just consider the steady infiltration of 19th-century haberdashery into the 21st-century wardrobe. )

Somehow, my late-night attempts at studying always end in some sort of fic output. There are worse ways to procrastinate, I suppose. This fic was inspired by jackiemei's pchat drawing of Dan carving a Halloween pumpkin. <3 (would provide picture, but all my image editing tools are broke ;_;)


Between 31 and 1 |radishface
Watchmen → Dan, Laurie, Rorschach. Married D/L, gen D/R.
Sam and Sandra have a baby on the way, and this year's Halloween comes at the most opportune time.

A/N, originally posted on the KM, now edited and revised. (sorry KM, you always seem to get the beta version... :\ I gotta work on that.)

( She wants to throw the candy away but he saves them before the lip of the bowl can touch the edge of the trash can. )

Pigged out on junk food today despite my best efforts to keep up my Halloween Diet. I wanted to go as something ironic (like a censored board! or an I Can Haz Cheezburger sign!) but friends have a way with convincing you to go as a slutty [insert All-American profession here]. So a slutty [All-American professional] I will be. Groupthink FTW?

Um, so basically, this fic is sort of related to food.

Captcha Fic: Overeat Has |radishface
Watchmen → Dan
Dan gets fat.

A/N, originally posted on the KM.

( Charlie Kowal discovered the first of the outer solar system asteroids in 1977. )

Okay, so various levels of IvyLeague!blasphemy were percolating in my head all weekend and this is the result.

( More Ivy fun under the cut )</div></div></div></div>

Related to this secret on fandomsecrets :

Boxing Days
Dan/Ror ("Deng"/"Red"); drama/romance/angst. R. ~9200 words.
The swell of student protests floods the streets of Beijing in 1989; one man needs another to understand the condition of his country.
Watchmen historical AU set in 1989 China. Originally posted on the kinkmeme; now edited,

1 / the well-frog
2 / water, receding
3 / to live
4 / mulberries to oceans
xx / story notes

the lotus eaters
Dan/Ror (Deng/Red); 2197 words, AU of Boxing Days.
Dan chooses inertia.
I've been wanting to do an AU-what-if-sequel to Boxing Days for a while, and credits to etherati for doing what she does most excellently; this was one of the ways it got done: with (China!)Z!Ror.

Boxing Days Art:

Just created a fan journal/comm for all my fannish things, daikontime! Watchmen, Cowboy Bebop, Static Shock, K-Pop, and etc. I <3 the summer.

There was that New York Times article from about a week or two ago about Love in 2D. Now, I don't think that I'd ever consider myself as bad as Nisan with his body pillows and all, but recently I am beginning to sympathise with 2D lovers; I myself have fallen pretty hard for an inanimate, unattainable comic book figure (who is, for all intents and purposes, dead by both the end of the graphic novel and the movie he's in).

While Nisan was attracted to his anime girlfriend because she was ten years old, innocent, and like a little kid, Walter Kovacs is the complete opposite (which is comforting, since I think I'd have MORE of a problem on my hands if I were attracted to prepuescent girls)-- right wing, fiercely opinionated, fascist, ruthlessly violent, completely uncompromising, red-headed and freckled, which also totally goes against the type of guys I'm normally attracted to in Real Life. Sigh. My RL "type" centers on the nerdy, introverted, vulnerable, naive Asian nerd. So why the hell am I feeling butterflies in my stomach when I see Rorshach empty out a ladle of hot oil onto a convict's face? What's with the moment of unbearable glee and near-swooning (unrelated to my fear of blood, I swear) when he breaks a man's fingers (and indirectly gets the guy's arms sawn off) behind bars? The way my heart breaks when his lip quivers, his face a mass of twitching muscle, shivers, "well, what are you waiting for?"

How strange that fannish obsession mirrors the exact symptoms of being madly in love (the last time I was madly in love was two years ago, and it's quite refreshing, I have to say, to feel this way again). A litany of questions arises-- does this mean that I'm being unfaithful to my boyfriend? Am I crazy because I'm attracted to a crazy person (and because 2D love is crazy)? Is the difference between 2D and 3D love really just a matter of labels? And the answer to that last question is possibly a "yes." Many a time have I put a real flesh-and-blood man up on a pedestel (and have been subject to standing there motionlessly, as well) and loved him for all the static qualities I envisioned him to embody. In a way, then, 2D love is all the purer because there's no way that your pedestel-figure can betray your original conception of him (or her... or it). Does this make 2D love any more justifiable-- or does it render those who love into cowards, unable to breach the gap between true human emotions and conditions? 

I hardly would call myself a coward for loving a sociopathic right-wing vigilante killer, but then again, I would also hesitate to call myself a true 2D lover. After all, my true feelings only emerged in full-blown form after watching the Watchmen movie, which was spectacularly directed at times and spectacularly acted by Jackie Earle Haley at all times. I suppose that I have to admit, regretfully, that my emotions were not stirred by the palette of secondary colors that Alan Moore used to such discomfiting effect in the Watchmen graphic novel, but the stereotypically angsty aesthetic, high contrast ratio, slow-motion camera work and a few well-placed Philip Glass pieces. My love is unoriginal in the extreme-- just another marketing commodity engineered by Hollywood to inspire panamour across all ages and sexes (fanboys would hardly call themselves "in love" with Rorschach, but come on). The literary vocabulary we use to talk about our favorite fictional constructs is really just as filled with bullshit as the way I proclaim that I've fallen in love with Walter Kovacs. But even if my love has been carefully engineered, does it still ring true? Can I still love, unabashedly and girlishly and gleefully and one-sidedly and voyeuristically?

Well, either way-- since it's in 2D, I can gush to my boyfriend about it without retribution or guilt. :)

Couldn't imagine that walking down a simple road would be so calming, so predictable. Soundtrack to my life in my hand obscuring the ways in which to walk, crossroads impending. I nearly get run over by an angry car or two, lovely ladies in Jaguars and slick Beemers built for speed, but nothing's new. Rich, moneyed folk everywhere, women who look sixty in the face and trot like they're twenty, in Jimmy Choos and espadrilles; men all in business casual, all the same. Some wired with earchips, bluetooths, vipertongued, trading while sauntering even in the obvious lassitude of summer, with everything to prove.

The calming faces of different storefronts, individuality bequeathed by their taxonomies and typographies, layouts as static as the insides of brochures and looking like their promotional photographs; I am walking through a moment of time, idyllic California and yuppie culture, athletic bodies post-yoga and spin, the scent of salad and inferiority complexes everywhere I go.

Half-asleep at four in the morning I lie awake, mind filled with make-believe, superheroes, ill-fated love. I wonder if it's only by escaping this world that we can break through, to understand it. I am an alien, a blue being, levitating, with tired, dry eyes watching within this radius and wondering when I will venture further, and where I will materialize when I wake up, again. Unread books line my bookshelves, clothes on all surfaces of the room, legacy of my indecision and social industry.

She comes on Saturday. This stillness of my empty palace, broken; I will return to the world with the sound of her night-breathing, inevitable. The company provides respite, a relief from the sinking feeling of another night spent at odds with the sun, but

all I want is the truth. The pursuit of it, strong and alone.

It's so hot here. My family doesn't believe in air conditioning.

Wedding to attend tomorrow!  

Looking for rooming is a lot more tedious than I thought. Craigslist should really sweeten up its interface... and I wish that there were an option to view tabs vertically instead of horizontally. SITM declined my app (there goes my career in merchandising) so I guess I'll be working at ConsInc this summer. Wish I had hustled to lock down that internship in Shanghai!!

And my request to join the only livejournal community I've ever had an interest in has been denied yet again. Oh well, perserverance is the name of the game. I suppose I'll have to start updating my LJ directly, heaven forbid somebody actually associate me with this outdated internet moniker (though it's the only one I've got, really).

For once I can happily say that I've had a wonderful semester. Probably had something to do with all the study hours I put in. :P