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I could still have an easy life
But the lie ain't worth the living...
I once stabbed a guy in the thigh with a unicorn [horn], just because it seemed like the prudent thing to do at the time. Don't pity him too much - he was a rapist.

I think that might have been when I lost my innocence.

Just kidding. I've been roofied, raped, my best friend was murdered, I organized a kinda-sorta kidnapping, I discovered a dead body in an ice machine, my alcoholic mom bailed with my college fund, and that's really just the short list. My innocence is really just a memory, and it's not even mine. It's my dad's. Speaking of which, this one time? I was on a building and this plane blew up, and I thought my dad was in it. It was... bad.

The time I stabbed the guy in the leg, though, that was really when I sort of lost my thing for unicorns. I mean, you're in a room with a sociopath, he's basically telling you his life story and you're just waiting for him to try and rape you and shave your head. Meanwhile, you're surrounded by... unicorns. They sort of lose their magic, especially after the horn-in-the-thigh doesn't actually save your life and you still end up stuffed full of GHB and wondering whether you can make a graceful landing on the pavement two stories down.

I didn't actually get raped that time, thanks to a rape whistle and a really good friend. I have a feeling Mercer probably wasn't so lucky in the long run, and he probably didn't have the benefit of GHB, either.

You know what they say, though.

Karma rules.

Current Mood: pessimistic

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Ah, temptation. It got Adam and Eve kicked out of the Garden of Eden, and it keeps Dad and me – that is, private dicks – rolling in green. You see, in a town like Neptune, where rich men are aplenty, the gold-digging women are far aplenty-er.

The infidelity rate is high. But come on, how's a guy supposed to resist? These nubile young things are practically begging for it, with their taut young bodies and their silicone... well, you get the picture. And when the first generation of trophy wives storms into Dad's office, skin sagging just a bit around the eyes, insisting that we catch their cheating husbands in the act - well, that's where we come in.

Dad doesn't go out of his way to ease their minds - what, and lose a fee? Are you crazy? He takes the case and sends me out for recon. I stake the guy out, or he does, and we look to catch the money shot. And if we catch him violating his prenup, then he's out of a lot of money. And the funny thing is, he probably could have saved it all just by hiring us first.

What I've noticed in this business, and what bothers me most, is that if the man of the house has a mistress on the side than eight times out of ten his wife is screwing the poolboy, or the driver, or - to relive a particularly disturbing example - her stepson's best friend. It's just a fact. Prenuptial agreements are supposed to be a safeguard for everybody involved, but these people? They don't care about anybody but themselves.

They always give into temptation without caring who they hurt. The people they've sworn to love forever, their kids. My mom did it, too. I don't know if there's anybody who's really safe from being controlled exclusively by their id, and it's a really terrifying thought.

There is a bright side, though. One small, shining bright side, which depresses me nonetheless.

Dad will never be out of a job. Which means that neither will I.

Like I said. A depressing bright side, but a bright side nonetheless.

Current Location: Neptune High

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You don't know what you've got until it's gone. Sound cliche? Well, maybe a little. But as far as I know, nobody's written a song about knowing exactly what you had all along until the second that you picked it up and threw it out the window. Correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't it just lack romance?

Anyway, cheesy eighties song or no, I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say that pretty much everything that's happened in the past few years can easily be summed up by Cinderella and their heartfelt howling. I guess it's life, you know, taking things for granted and letting them slip through your fingers, but you'd think I'd have learned by now.

First Lilly, then Mom, my virginity - maybe there weren't warning signs and maybe there wasn't anything I could have done to prevent everything that happened in 2003, but that didn't prevent me wracking my brain for alternatives. It's the whole denial thing, the bargaining. What if, if only, if you make me not be raped, God, I promise to be nice to Logan Echolls for a week.

But bargaining didn't bring Lilly back and it sure as hell didn't restore my hymen to its original and pristine packaging. You'd think, though, after all that I went through, I'd hold on a little bit tighter to the things that mattered most. That maybe, you know, just maybe? I'd not take the little things - or even the big things - for granted.

I mean, I almost lost Wallace. He bailed on me and nobody could blame him. Meg died. Duncan ran off to Australia with Meg's baby. And through everything, all I could do was watch as everyone I cared about slipped away.

And even after everything that had happened, I never appreciated any of it when it was here. Duncan, Meg... even Wallace somehow managed to slip into the background while I continued building walls and just got more and more self-involved. Everything I had always expected to be here vanished, one piece at a time.

And every single time, even though I should have been - in some cases even was - expecting it, it still felt like my heart was getting torn out. It isn't easy to live like that, looking around and seeing nothing but holes where there should be people.

You really don't know what you've got until it's gone. Those empty places stay empty no matter how much you crowd yourself with other people, with jackasses and PCHers and hackers, and no matter how much you care about the new and the old you can't forget about what's missing.

Your friends, your family, pieces of you that have fallen away and will never come back. You carry those scars and you carry that weight.

And if you're lucky - really lucky - you'll learn from your mistakes. I just wish I could figure out how to do that.


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I've had a couple of close calls. More than a couple, really. I guess you could call it a few, which is just a little too close for comfort. It’s like, once you survive a psychotic movie star, once you just miss a bus crash, once you don’t get killed by the gun-wielding wannabe mobsters, once the deeply disturbed teenager doesn’t manage to push you off a roof, what’s next? How much more can you possibly survive before your number is going to just be up already?

So far I’ve been lucky – if that’s the word you want to use. People have been at the right place at the right time, but somehow I don’t think that my dad’s always going to be around to save me. Neither is Logan. And while I’m capable of many things, I’ve learned the hard way that PI skills and a taser generally aren’t the tools required to extract one safely from a life or death situation.

Lilly died because she was a little too careless about some things but she was still – I almost died for practically the same reason that she did. She stole the tapes that Aaron Echolls had made of the two of them having sex and refused to give them back. Lilly had a smart and sassy mouth. When I found them it was exactly the same deal, only my death would’ve been much worse than Lilly’s. You think a little bit of congealed blood on the side of your head is bad?

Imagine being barbequed alive.

God, nobody I haunted would’ve been happy to see me.

These days I feel like I’m walking around with a gun between my shoulder blades, just waiting for somebody to pull the trigger. Maybe that’s why I can’t just get back to my old self. There’s that soft, gooey center just bubbling down inside of me but I keep quashing it down and pushing people away.

I imagine Lilly, wherever she is, happy and free. Whenever I dream about her the blood is gone, and she’s out of that stupid pep squad uniform. She’s Lilly again, which means that we can all move on down here.

It won’t be for too long, though. I have a feeling I’ll be joining her soon enough.

Current Mood: contemplative

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Last night I got subjected to a marathon of The Godfather movies. Technically it wasn’t a marathon, I guess, because we only watched the first two, but since together they totaled up to over six hours and I heard the third one sucked anyway, I’m going to go ahead and say whatever to the dictionary definition of “marathon” is and listen instead to the dull throbbing of my rear end.

Logan’s couch? Only comfortable for so long.

Anyway, marathon? Not a marathon? Not really the point. Watching Marlon Brando and Al Pacino and all of those other people that Logan assured me were understated and brilliant despite the fact that they were shooting each other and putting horse’s heads in each other’s beds (!) only really reminded me of one thing.


Oh, it’s not like we’re under mob rule or anything. If the Fitzpatrick family were anything like the Corleones I’d probably be a lot more worried. As a family of crime lords, they’re bordering on third rate.

The Mars family, however – that means me – what an emulation of the Corleones we are! Not that we’re at all tied into the mob or anything. Exactly the opposite! But the similarities between the relationship between Michael and Don Corleone to the relationship between myself and Dad that it’s really striking! I swear!

Michael was Vito’s favorite son. (I am Dad’s favorite daughter. Only, true, but not the point as we are looking for similarities.) Vito wanted his favorite son away from the family business, so he sent him to the army. (Dad wanted favorite [again, only] daughter away from the family business after she almost got herself killed, so he forced me to get a job at Java the Hutt. Or anywhere but Mars Investigations, really.) Vito almost died several times. (Dad almost died several times.) Michael joined the business. (Dad let me start working back at the agency!) Vito died. There, the similarities end.

It’s true that I am comparing the mob to a PI business, but we’ve investigated that kind of thing before. And the army to Java the Hutt. And Vito Corleone to Keith Mars. And Hearst College to the Senate.

But the similarities are there.

Which of course makes Logan Diane Keaton.

And that final piece of the puzzle just makes complete and total sense.

There is no way in which I am not right. Right?

Current Mood: amused

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It would be crass to say Logan. Besides, if I did, Dad would have a heart attack. And he might have already changed his will and made Backup his sole heir. So, I will play it safe.

Studying. I spend my nights studying. Burning that midnight oil. And other clichés that are escaping me at the moment, but would apply exceptionally well.

The rest of the time? Beauty sleep.

Without Logan. Because, you know. Dad. Gun.


Right Logan?

Muse: Veronica Mars
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Word Count: 79

Current Mood: amused

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Here’s a little bit of advice from me to you – I won’t even charge you for it. Password-protect your computer. And if you do, do yourself a favor; I know your cat is special to you and that maybe the name of your boyfriend is so obvious that nobody would ever guess it, but pick something that has absolutely no meaning whatsoever. Here are some examples of passwords that I would never ever use:


Do you see a pattern? Besides, if my password was “DuncanKane” and someone happened to crack it, people might think I was just the eensiest bit obsessed – which is never good. Here are some of my discarded passwords, however, which will help make for a secure computer:


Don’t use those. Random combinations published on the internet are never the safest bet.

It’s also a good idea to password protect your screensaver, preferably with a different code than the first one. This ensures that if you have to leave your computer for any length of time, and logging out or shutting down is not your favorite option, your files will at least be protected from prying eyes.

Your hidden secrets will remain hidden and nobody will be able to use them against you. Trust me when I say that I learned this the hard way. If I’d password-protected my computer, then Duncan probably never would have run off to Cuba. Then again, Dad probably wouldn’t have chased after him… oh, and mom wouldn’t have run off with our fifty-grand reward.

Leaving your computer unprotected is pretty much equivalent to airing your dirty laundry. Nothing good can come of either.

Muse: Veronica Mars
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Word Count: 283


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Title: Natural Conclusions
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Character: Veronica Mars
Pairing: Veronica/Logan
Prompt: "Ah, summer, what power you have to make us suffer and like it." ~Russel Baker
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 343
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Rob Thomas. Not that Rob Thomas - the other one.

So what?Collapse )


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You miss Lilly – you can’t really figure out how to stop. People think it’s easy, you know, to just pick up and move on after you lose somebody, but here’s the truth: it’s not.

Anticlimactic, you know.

The thing is, after Lilly died, everything changed. Not just changed, fell apart – and not just your life, either. The whole structure of Neptune sort of collapsed, and it stopped being a town that you really actually liked and turned into something that now, you hardly even recognize. Maybe it’s because you had to grow up too fast or maybe it’s because everybody else changed at the same time, but Neptune’s metamorphosed into a completely new and hateful place, and as much as you’d like to place the blame on Logan or Lamb, there’s really no single guilty party.

Probably it’s just that things change. For better, for worse, nothing ever stays the same. You’re okay with that, you can’t really expect it to – all you can do is change with it. So you chop off your hair, you develop a badass attitude and you become someone as new and unrecognizable as Neptune is and you don’t even realize that subconsciously you’re just trying to be Lilly.

Trying but failing. You’ve taken Lilly Kane, your very best friend – your dead best friend – and you’ve buffed away the rough edges and you’ve slipped into an imitation of her. It’s so good that you don’t even notice. If you did, you might stop and realize that not only are you bastardizing her memory but Veronica Mars has gotten completely lost in Veronica Mars version 2.0 – Lilly Kane.

If Lilly were here she’d be delighted – for about five minutes.

And even though you’ve got the whole “being Lilly” thing pretty much down, it takes you a while to figure it out, and when you do – that’s when you start to recognize your betrayal. You love Lilly. You’ll always love Lilly. And she’ll always be a part of you.

But she’s not you, Veronica. You’re alive.

So live.

Current Mood: uncomfortable

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After Lilly died, I still saw her all the time. I never told anybody about it, not even my dad – it just would’ve worried him and I probably would have ended up in therapy. Besides. I never figured that it was all that strange. I assumed that even members of the psychiatric community wouldn’t find it entirely unreasonable that my dead best friend would appear constantly, that she would make wisecracks and flip her hair just like she’d never been murdered.

It’s not like I didn’t know it was all in my head. Part of it, I think, was my own guilt, spurring me on to find her killer and bring him to justice. Mostly, I think I just missed my best friend. Once she – or, well, my hallucination of Lilly – told me that her soul was doomed to walk the earth until justice had been served. I don’t know if that was true or not, but I’ve often wondered if I let that get in the way of my investigation. If I maybe let my hallucinations hold me back because I wanted to keep Lilly with me for a little while longer.

Now I don’t think so. Not really, anyway. I always knew that she wasn’t really there and that nothing was going to bring her back and that I was doing all I could do for her by just finding the person who’d taken her away from me. But it’s been something to think about.

Besides, Lilly hasn’t left me. Part of her is always going to be with me, looking out for me. Preventing me from ending up like she did. And that’s real.

Muse: Veronica Mars
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Word Count: 277

Current Mood: nostalgic

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