Heehee, my last chapter got five reviews! I'm all happy now. Thankies, all, and keep reviewing!! Oh, and just so you know, that "gay vibes" thing is a true story. If you wanna hear about it, email me or... something and I'll tell you. Yeah. Um, I just posted Chapter 4 yesterday, so I prolly ought to be waiting before I poste this one, but... oh, well! All characters belong to Marvel and KidsWB, as if you didn't already know. =^_^=
*****
Dear... um, Journal, I guess....
I'm writing in a notebook I found on my bed. I don't know why it's here, or who put it here. There wasn't even a note. Just a little blue spiral notebook. There aren't any lines on the pages, so I think maybe I'm supposed to draw in it or something, but I couldn't draw if my life depended on it, so I think I'll write.
You know, the cover of this thing is almost the exact same color as my fur. Which I'm sure was done on purpose. It should be like the one Kitty has with pink shag fur on the front, only blue. THEN it would match. Only that fur is all sparkly and nice, the kind that you just can't help reaching out to pet it, then when you do it's so soft and pretty because it's man-made and it's on a notebook, not a person.
My fur is like dog fur, short and coarse and grungy, and it's a living hell to take care of. I go through a full bottle of shampoo and conditioner in a week, and I have to use the high-quality salon-brand stuff or else it just makes it tangled and messy and a royal pain in the tail to comb, which takes almost an hour to do anyway.
It goes a lot faster if someone else brushes it for me, but no one really wants to offer and I'm afraid to ask. Only people who've ever done it are my parents back in Germany, and Jean. She offered, once. She must've read my mind. It was a month or two after I came here to the institute, and I was getting really home-sick, and she came in one night while I was starting to comb it out and she asked, "Does it take long? To comb it, I mean." And I shrugged and said, "About an hour. It didn't used to take so long when my parents did it for me."
"Would you like me to comb it out for you?" And god, it felt so good to have someone touch me again, to not cringe or gasp, and I couldn't see her face because she was sitting behind me but I think she was smiling, and I was purring like a big, blue cat and scheize I never wanted it to stop, it felt so good. And I guess I must've fallen asleep and I guess she put me to bed, because I woke up the next morning under the covers with my head on the pillow.
It's dinner time, I've got to go now.
Kurt
*****
Dear Diary,
I finally gave it to him. I gave him the notebook. A notebook isn't really the most... romantic gift in the world, I know, but I know he doesn't have one, and I think a notebook is something everyone can use. But I'm kicking myself now for not leaving a note with it. You know, "Hope you like this, I think you're really cute, blah blah blah, Love Your Secret Admirer." You know, typical crush note. But for one reason or another, I decided to be all bashful and stupid and didn't leave a note. Grrr... I'm so angry at myself right now. Why am I even doing this? It's not like he'd ever like me. He's sexy, fuzzy, brooding-yet-funny Kurt. And I'm... Wolf girl. Rahne the Dog. Yay.
Don't get me wrong, I love my power. I have more fun as a wolf than as a person. I can run faster, and jump higher, and my instincts and senses are sharper. And what a lot of people don't know is that when I'm in wolf form, I think like a wolf. I have the brain of one. I don't even know what homework or boyfriends or those bitchy girls at school ARE, and I can't think about them, so I can't worry about them. Sometimes I just wanna stay a wolf forever, but I can't. Being in wolf form... well, it doesn't take concentration, but after a while, I just can't be a wolf anymore, and I change back automatically, almost against my will.
I've got to go. I promised Sam I'd play catch with him.
--Rahne--
*****
Dear... um, Journal, I guess....
I'm writing in a notebook I found on my bed. I don't know why it's here, or who put it here. There wasn't even a note. Just a little blue spiral notebook. There aren't any lines on the pages, so I think maybe I'm supposed to draw in it or something, but I couldn't draw if my life depended on it, so I think I'll write.
You know, the cover of this thing is almost the exact same color as my fur. Which I'm sure was done on purpose. It should be like the one Kitty has with pink shag fur on the front, only blue. THEN it would match. Only that fur is all sparkly and nice, the kind that you just can't help reaching out to pet it, then when you do it's so soft and pretty because it's man-made and it's on a notebook, not a person.
My fur is like dog fur, short and coarse and grungy, and it's a living hell to take care of. I go through a full bottle of shampoo and conditioner in a week, and I have to use the high-quality salon-brand stuff or else it just makes it tangled and messy and a royal pain in the tail to comb, which takes almost an hour to do anyway.
It goes a lot faster if someone else brushes it for me, but no one really wants to offer and I'm afraid to ask. Only people who've ever done it are my parents back in Germany, and Jean. She offered, once. She must've read my mind. It was a month or two after I came here to the institute, and I was getting really home-sick, and she came in one night while I was starting to comb it out and she asked, "Does it take long? To comb it, I mean." And I shrugged and said, "About an hour. It didn't used to take so long when my parents did it for me."
"Would you like me to comb it out for you?" And god, it felt so good to have someone touch me again, to not cringe or gasp, and I couldn't see her face because she was sitting behind me but I think she was smiling, and I was purring like a big, blue cat and scheize I never wanted it to stop, it felt so good. And I guess I must've fallen asleep and I guess she put me to bed, because I woke up the next morning under the covers with my head on the pillow.
It's dinner time, I've got to go now.
Kurt
*****
Dear Diary,
I finally gave it to him. I gave him the notebook. A notebook isn't really the most... romantic gift in the world, I know, but I know he doesn't have one, and I think a notebook is something everyone can use. But I'm kicking myself now for not leaving a note with it. You know, "Hope you like this, I think you're really cute, blah blah blah, Love Your Secret Admirer." You know, typical crush note. But for one reason or another, I decided to be all bashful and stupid and didn't leave a note. Grrr... I'm so angry at myself right now. Why am I even doing this? It's not like he'd ever like me. He's sexy, fuzzy, brooding-yet-funny Kurt. And I'm... Wolf girl. Rahne the Dog. Yay.
Don't get me wrong, I love my power. I have more fun as a wolf than as a person. I can run faster, and jump higher, and my instincts and senses are sharper. And what a lot of people don't know is that when I'm in wolf form, I think like a wolf. I have the brain of one. I don't even know what homework or boyfriends or those bitchy girls at school ARE, and I can't think about them, so I can't worry about them. Sometimes I just wanna stay a wolf forever, but I can't. Being in wolf form... well, it doesn't take concentration, but after a while, I just can't be a wolf anymore, and I change back automatically, almost against my will.
I've got to go. I promised Sam I'd play catch with him.
--Rahne--
