the movement and the spin

dear yuletide author aka omg yay i love you already

2009-11-09T21:04:00Z

Yuletiiiiiide! Hello there person who's writing a yuletide story for me. You should know that your mere existence satisfies me in ways I can't quite articulate. I hope that doesn't make you uncomfortable.

You'll notice that I've included no specific details with the requests, minus a couple suggestions for which characters to focus on. But even those are strictly optional, author. I'm delighted already that you'll be writing for any of these little bitty fandoms.

I read a lot of fic, by the way. I read humor, angst, total crack, sappy sweet romance, slash, het, gen. I guess I'm partial to some good hot slash, but it's by no means a requirement.

Also totally off-the-wall AUs are very welcome. Like taking the characters of Song of Ice and Fire and having them act out the plot of Glee. Nobody in the WORLD would take issue with that.

Right, so here's some thoughts about my requests!

1. George R R Martin - A Song of Ice and Fire series

Isn't this an awesome series of novels? God, yeah. Lesse, uh, I do especially enjoy any and all Starks, as well was Brienne, and Jaime, and Dany, and dragons, and PRETTY MUCH EVERYONE. Except I guess Theon and Melissandre who are kinda boring. But otherwise: DO WHATEVER. Woo!

2. Karin Lowachee - Warchild series Characters: Enas Stlian and Jos Musey

So by the characters I suppose you can see that I do have a preference for the first novel, however! I really do just love this whole little universe in general. I just, you know. Also have a weakness for people trying to be Jos' parents.

3. The Order (comic) Characters: Henry Hellrung, James Wa, and Pepper Potts

Okay I'll admit when I listed those characters I was picturing them having, like, a Wii tournament and then all making out. BUT THEN AGAIN, they're also very suited to like, be all distant and angsty and shit, and honestly I don't really have a strong preference here. I love The Order, and I'd treasure anything you find it in your heart to write about them.

So I guess that boils down to "write whatever!" And have fun. Because omg yuletide yay.

gabby_silang @ 2009-09-29T07:32:00

2009-09-29T14:34:29Z

Philippine man loses own life after saving dozens from floods

Yeah, that one made me cry like a baby.

philippine floods update, and how to help

2009-09-28T00:06:53Z

Thank you who commented on my last, frantic post. All thoughts, prayers, etc. are really appreciated. I've been driving myself nuts all day just looking at news photos of the whole mess. It's really devastating, and affecting such a huge area. It's going to take a very long time for Manila and the rest of the provinces with flooding to get back on their feet.

I've heard news from my cousins and an aunt who are all healthy and fine, despite spending a lot of time on their roofs and finally climbing down to households entirely covered in mud. But I count us as a family lucky because we have the resources to send them some financial help, while not everyone has that luxury.

Anyone who can and wants to donate financial help to the country's relief and recovery efforts, I would recommend going through the Red Cross.

I'm linking to the Philippine Red Cross, however it looks like it might be a bit tough to donate directly there from the US. If you have any trouble with that, check out the site below that's a well-known and respected grassroots organization called TxtPower. They've set up a PayPal account where people overseas can donate, and have their donations transferred from there to the Phil. Red Cross. They've already raised P94,752.50, which is pretty awesome for two days.

Philippine Red Cross

TxtPower's donation drive for overseas donors

And, if you want to know more about what's going on right now, here's the latest updated story from the Philippine Inquirer:

Manila Mired in Mud

gabby_silang @ 2009-09-27T10:37:00

2009-09-27T17:49:06Z

God, really, really worried about everyone in the Philippines. My cousin and her family spent the day and night on their roof, might still be there for all I know, everything in their house ruined. Trying to figure out how to get help to them, and get in touch with everyone.

It's crazy, Manila is so huge, and there's just so many people. 12 million people, and 80% of the city is flooded. The neighborhood I lived in when I went to middle and high school is under water right now.

one of the many stories i probably won't write

2009-08-20T04:25:38Z

If I had the time, there's this Trek reboot story I'd totally write. It's about the first child born on New Vulcan (or whatever the colony will end up being named), and also about some old Vulcan guy gone all infected with bitterness. There would be, like, intrigue and stuff. It would be way awesome, for sure.

Anyway, I don't think the whole thing's going to happen. I did write the long winded emo speech that the old guys gives to the first kid of New Vulcan, though, so here's that.

“There was a species of beetle native to Vulcan. Black, six-legged, perhaps the size of your smallest fingernail. Unremarkable. There are nearly identical insects on a hundred class M planets throughout the galaxy. As the Terrans would say, it was nothing special.
In most encyclopedias it is merely named the Common Vulcan Beetle. Its defining characteristic, you see, being that it was born of Vulcan. It is very possible, it is in fact likely, that there is not one Common Vulcan Beetle remaining alive. And no Common Vulcan Beetle will ever be born again.

“So you see, T’Sal, it is not that I question the facts of your physiology. I am acquainted with both your mother and father, and know them to be as Vulcan as I. As well I do not express some illogical dislike based on your place of birth. I do not doubt that you blood is as verdant as my own. None of this is at issue.

“I would merely point out that you will never witness the setting of the sun over Voroth Sea, or its rise among the peaks of the L-langsons. You will not walk the storied streets of Shi’Kahr, raise your eyes to the arched ceiling of the symphony house in Raal, or swim in the soft waters of Yuron. Your parents, while they doubtlessly treasure you dearly, never could kneel in the temple of T’Panit in the months before your birth to pray for your safe passage into this world. You will not brave the fire plains, or rest under the shade of a k’ai tree. You will not climb the ancient steps up Mount Seleya, to stand where Surak stood at the awakening of modern civilization.

“You are certainly an accomplished young girl, with attributes and skills that would adequately allow you to fulfill the challenge in question. The fact remains, however. You were born on New Vulcan, yet there will never be a new Vulcan.”

The minister took his seat, lifted his eyes to the windows and the gentle blue sky beyond it. His last remarks were addressed as if to that empty air.

“Attempt whatever supposed kahs-wan has been concocted for you, child. It means nothing. The fire of the Forge has gone out.”

And, yes, I realize that entire thing is pretty much just a list of neat Vulcan stuff. But you know what, they just have all the neatest stuff.

prompted trek ficlet #1

2009-08-12T16:18:42Z

If you're so inclined, I continue to crave new prompts.

For dafnap, who so eloquently suggested: All I want is Spock/Uhura. TOS/AOS, where Spock ends up in TOS and is like "WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE DON'T BONE, I DON'T UNDERSTAND. THIS GREATLY CONCERNS ME. AND BY ME I MEAN--" But with Vulcan reserve, or something. I dunno. I also made her check my spelling. <3

Contrariwise
fandom: AOS/TOS
rating: pg
summary: You could have, like, a world without shrimp. Or with, you know, nothing but shrimp. (This story is not about shrimp.)

Two years and seven months into the Enterprise's five-year mission, Mr. Spock has ascertained that, on any given day, there is a 4.78% chance that one or more members of the crew will be relocated to an alternate timeline/universe/plane of reality. There is a somewhat correlated probability of 3.99% that a crew member will be bodily transformed into a different species, either sentient or non-sentient. An intersection of these two possibilities cannot be accurately calculated due to the pact of silence maintained by the five officers who found themselves temporarily in a universe populated only by decapod crustaceans.

Anecdotal evidence is strong, however, since the captain spent several days after the incident running his hands through his hair in the manner of an obsessive compulsive. Doctor McCoy confided to overhearing an admission that Jim "kept feeling those freaking antenna itching through my scalp."

So when, on Stardate 4513.32, at approximately 0400 hours, Spock finds himself alone in a bed that is unmistakably his, in quarters that are somewhat familiar and also distinctly alien, he is not particularly shocked. Whereas he'd fallen asleep unclothed and in the company of Lt. Uhura, he wakes alone and wearing a soft sleeping shirt and pants.

In many similar situations it has been observed that crew physically near each other at the time of a transference may be similarly affected. With this in mind, he changes swiftly into one of the uniforms neatly hung in the closet, and proceeds through the dimmed corridors to Uhura's quarters. The hour is early, but she is historically an early riser, and under the circumstances she's likely to accept the intrusion.

He places his palm on the access pad and narrows his eyes as it flashes briefly red in response. Perhaps on this Enterprise, her quarters are elsewhere. At the end of the hall is a console where he proceeds to look up the deck layout, and confirms that he was in fact at the correct door. Returning, he raps lightly on the entrance. Having received no response within 20 seconds, he repeats the action more forcefully. Still no reply.

Aware of the possibility that he may be not entirely safe in this place, he checks quickly up and down the corridor. No crew, either recognizable or otherwise. No robotic doppelgangers of familiar friends. No Klingons, no crustaceans. Placing a hand on the bulkhead near Uhura's door, and leaning his mind inward, he senses the slight and peaceful working of a familiar mind asleep.

By all evidence, he is in no immediate danger, and neither is she. He could very well return to his quarters, or maybe make his way to the bridge in order to better understand the situation. The ship, while altered in some ways, is mainly the same and none of the observed differences pose a threat. The slightly muted blue of his uniform, for example, or the odd addition of a raised heel to his boots. That in particular strikes him as both unnecessary and illogical, as he already is tall enough to duck slightly when entering a room, and the doors here seem just as low as in his own Enterprise. Perhaps there is some cultural aesthetic meaning to the heel, though he cannot see himself electing it if simpler options were available. Perhaps every shoe in this particular universe came so heeled. Perhaps the Spock who usually inhabited this ship is significantly smaller in stature than he himself, and employs the heels for that reason. Perhaps Nyota likes them.

All this he considers while removing the access panel from the wall and manually releasing the door lock to Uhura's quarters.

He steps into the darkness of the room and lets the door slide softly shut behind him. Adjusting to the dimness, he can see that the layout is slightly altered with the addition of a partition wall to his left, and there is a bowl of fragrant fruit on the side table that would be impossible on his Enterprise. The ship's replicators can replicate fruit of many kinds, but only in small squarish pieces, and never with the lively scent of true produce. He can make out the shape of a Vulcan lute leaning against a chair, the sight of which provides some obscure comfort. Around the partition comes the soft sound of Uhura’s deep, relaxed breathing.

Turning the corner and sitting lightly at the foot of the bed, his eyes adjust well enough to make her out clearly, and she is unmistakably herself. Her relaxed expression, her long hair falling every which way on the pillow, the curve of her neck and the dip of her upper lip. The slope of her shoulders, the cadence of her breath, the soft hum she vocalizes with every third exhale.

The way she wakes fully in less than a second when his hand brushes her ankle, the way she sits upright with the sheet clutched to her, expression on guard and her free hand immediately in a defensive position.

“Oh!” she says at a shout before her face goes all to confusion. “Mr. Spock.”

It is immediately apparent that he’s made a small mistake.

"Lieutenant Uhura, my apologies. I." He stumbles between truth and fiction. She reaches over to switch on a light.

"Mr. Spock, is something wrong? The ship... How did you get in here." None too subtly, she removes his hand from her leg. Admittedly, he feels more grief than contrition at the loss of contact.

"To the best of my knowledge, the ship is fine. I gather there is no precedent for my presence in your quarters at this hour?"

"You gather right," she says, though softens it with a quirk oh her lips. "Quarters, maybe. Bed, no. Pretty sure I'd remember that." She secures the sheet around herself, and he does not allow his eyes to wander as she does it. "Are you going to tell me how you got in here, or are we going to call it 'sleep walking' and never speak of it again?"

Fascinating. Unmistakably herself, and yet if he understands her correctly, then either their association had ended, or had never begun. He's intruded. And, perhaps, is alone on an alien Enterprise. He stands, and averts his eyes to a spot nearby her bare shoulder.

"I hope you'll allow me to put aside that question for a moment, and help to clear up a matter which troubles me."

She doesn't answer for a beat too long. And then, "Uh huh. How you entered my quarters in the dead of gamma shift troubles me. Clear it up, Mr. Spock, and we'll proceed from there."

He meets her eyes again, which betray more concern than anger, more annoyance than amusement. She does not reach for his hand. She looks in his eyes, and not at the set of his shoulders. She is not unkind. She shares nothing.

"A fair request," he says. "I removed the access panel and executed a manual override of the lock."

"And what perfectly logical reason did you have for doing that?"

"I believed you to be somebody else. May I inquire as to the present stardate?" He begins to pace.

"It's 4513.31. Or, 32 by now. Who did you believe me to be?"

"Someone with whom I am better acquainted. And what is our current mission?"

"We're en route to Babel, transporting dignitaries. Why don't you know that?"

"I have been elsewhere for some time. Are you familiar with the Earth creature called the shrimp?"

"What do shrimp have to do with anything?"

"Your reaction proves them insignificant." He stops, looks up to find her out of bed and in full uniform, excepting her unshod feet. The sight of her small brown toes is an intimacy he appreciates, although on her part it is naturally accidental. "You are dressed," he says.

"I'm taking you to Sickbay." She puts a foot up on the bed to zip it into her boot which, he notes, has a heel of some greater significance than his own. "You're suffering from memory loss and irrational thinking."

"I assure you, Nyota, my rationality if hardly impaired. Please forgive the intrusion, I will return to my own quarters."

"Mr. Spock, you have forced your way into my private sleeping quarters, you admit that you've forgotten what our current orders are, and you resorted to a statement of the obvious for a conversational tactic just a moment ago." At his half-raised eyebrow, she shakes her head chidingly. "Don't think you can slip anything past me."

He can only favor her with the thin edge of a smile, "I would not dare."

"Damn right you wouldn't." She takes him by the elbow and leads him around to the door. Before the exit, he pauses.

"Although I understand and am grateful for your concern, I do not require a medic. I'm simply not myself." He speaks softly, and as he does her hand finds its way up to rest against his bicep warmly. "I hope you can forgive that, when you see me again."

"Let me forgive you when you've told me what's the matter."

He considers her while formulating an answer. He considers her altered uniform, wrapped and belted, asymmetrical and somehow more playful than he's used to. Considers the feel of these private quarters, a place he has never slept in, never kept a spare uniform tunic within, never rushed through the sonic shower to be on time for alpha shift after a ship's morning spent indulgent and indolent in her bed. Considers the touch of her hand on his arm, sure now this is the closest he has been to this woman, sure that he leans into her more than she to him. He considers the bed he fell to sleep in, its heat, and the acceptable discomfort caused by a stymieing of circulation because Nyota prefers to sleep with her head pillowed on his shoulder. The jasmine-scented hair tonic that he cannot detect in these rooms.

She is concerned. Her brows crease, her fingers tighten, her eyes travel his face for a sign. He inclines his head and brings a hand to her shoulder.

"The matter is that I do not know you." He applies pressure where necessary, and she slumps to the ground. "Nor you me."

By 1100 hours he has a techno-organic displacement field jury-rigged in jeffries tube D9. The particular passage is part of the ventilation between conference and rec rooms, and he endeavors to meditate himself into silence while he waits for the device to gain a full charge and activate. Dimly, as the process whines to its apex and the space fills with white, he imagines he hears his mother's voice, singsong and conspiratorial.

"Contrariwise, if it was so, it might be; and if it were so, it would be; but as it isn't, it ain't. That's logic."

fic prompts: let us now embark on a grand adventure!

2009-08-11T17:14:29Z

So, like, I really want to write some Trek fic because it's sort of INVADING ALL MY BRAIN SPACE. I am trying to write other things and they all end up being about space and stuff. Which, okay, in some cases that is totally justified. But anyway, the point is while that is happening, somehow I am not actually writing Trek fic for some reason.

And, so, flist, I turn to you. I wish for your requests for Happy Adventure Funtimes Trek Prompts. And I will write them. I can't promise each one will be longer than a paragraph, but damn it, I will write something.

I am proficient in TOS, AOS, and TNG. HAVE AT. Feel free to also request random crossovers. My mind is open.

And sort of DS9, but not really? Like, I remember that it's on a space station and the music was really grandiose in a good way.

Please interpret Happy Adventure Funtimes however you wish. If you have happy funtimes while wailing in grief and sadness, that is up to you.

<3 <3 <3

emphatic trek vic red

2009-08-07T04:55:39Z

OH GOD
OH GOD EVERYONE RIGHT NOW. WATCH IT NOW.

Okay, okay, rational thinking. This is a vid. Of the Star Trek reboot. Set to the cast of Glee's cover of "Don't Stop Believing". If you are not watching it already, then we should never ever go to karaoke together, but that's BESIDE THE POINT.

Don't Stop Believing by arefadedaway

YOU WILL THINK YOU CAN RESIST. BUT THEN YOU WILL GET TO "LIVING JUST TO FIND EMOTION" AND YOU WILL BE LOST FOREVER IN YOUR OWN HEART, WHICH WILL HAVE GROWN SO LARGE IT WILL TAKE UP ALL THE SPACE IN THE ROOM, THE BUILDING, THE CITY, THE WORLD.

THEY TOOK THE MIDNIGHT TRAIN GOING ANYWHERE, OKAY YOU GUYS OMG I CAN'T EVEN DEAL.

gabby_silang @ 2009-07-25T15:28:00

2009-07-25T22:35:05Z

IRON MAN 2 PANEL. ONE HOUR. I HAVE NOT THE WORDS FOR MY EXCITEMENT.

kick at the darkness

2009-04-10T05:26:42Z

It's been a while since I could say this, and I just need to document it somewhere, to remember that it happens, so. Yeah.

I am so happy right now. I can't stop smiling. I am absurdly happy. It didn't even take much, really. Someone did something small that made my day, and then nothing went and brought it down, and now I'm just happy, hours and hours later.

So, yeah. There's that.

oh, icons, i will never tire of thee

2009-04-04T04:00:12Z

via amonitrate

1. Reply to this post, and I will pick five of your icons.
2. Make a post (including the meme info) and talk about the icons I chose.
3. Other people can then comment to you and make their own posts.
4. This will create a never-ending cycle of icon glee.

By cheapcrowd, my default. I like pretty, non-fandom icons sometimes because sometimes I have posts and things that are just better served by something fandom-neutral. Plus, I'm less fandomy these days than I used to be, in general, so it just makes sense.

Something about this image always just got me. Something about the color and the little girl about my color, and the purpose behind it. Depending on my mood I guess I'd either say it seemed like she was given a direction, and had to go there, but would be okay, would kick ass anyway, or that this was a choice, a purpose of her own.

By zocat_icons, this basically just cracks my shit up. It's named after the book Giraffes? Giraffes! because that also cracks my shit up. I cannot think of a single time when this icon was used as a non-non-sequitur. I have never posted about plankton.

by thegreatesthits is Nooooooeeeeeeeeel Fielding, being fab. Oh, Noel. Uh, if you've not watched The Mighty Boosh, then what the fuck are you doing with your useless life? That show is. There are phrases from that show that, said even out of context, will lead me to laugh uncontrollably for five minutes. Such with "Not you, naan bread!" Yeah. Pure love. Noel is both fugly and bizarrely sexy. It's confusing.

This icon gets used in a very similar way to the plankton one. He's just like that.

by me! Image found by obsession_inc, I believe. This is total self-indulgence. When I was writing Dust is Gonna Settle I tried to look around for a picture of someone who could be Maria for me. I had a pretty good idea in my head since the first thing I wrote was that opening description of her, but I was deep into it and Rachel found this PICTURE. Oh, God, it gave me chills.

Look at that. LOOK AT THAT. Those EYES and those WICKED LIPS, that amazing hair, she's just perfect. I can't believe this is a real person, she is so perfectly Maria. I named it after this: Her thin shirt with the sailor collar. Her fawn's eyelashes, her half-lidded eyes, under cat's-eye sunglasses. Her red lips, her slim wrists. I look at that picture, and I hear the sibilants of her. That girl haunted me the whole time I wrote Maria, I love her fiercely.

by toastandtea. I swear, it's like, I find something I love and like either two seconds before or after, Marina does too and makes the best icons ever of it. I love this because it has little bits of the HUD interface, and then the clear blue sky. The two things I love so much to write about with the suit, the way it's ultimate freedom, and the ultimate flow of constant input and information, the plugging-in coupled with the escape. They don't really go together, they can't, but he wants them both, and I love that idea.

Mmmm. Icons.

In other news, company party tomorrow night. Others who have attended previous company parties with this company describe these as a sort of junior prom where there's free drinks. Sooo basically terrifying and juvenile. There's rock-a-roke. Yeah. Shenanigans expected.

Nearly-insta-rec

2009-03-03T21:20:30Z

You guys. YOU GUYS. I want to tell you a story that will describe how good this fic is.

So, my laptop charger has stopped working? Last night I had maybe 45 minutes of battery life left when I started reading this fic, and told dafnap about it. I got to the end of part 2 and my laptop died. I then CAME INTO WORK A HALF HOUR EARLY this morning SOLELY TO FINISH READING THIS STORY.

I repeat, the fic made me WAKE UP EARLY, CATCH AN EARLIER BUS, and BE IN THE OFFICE WAY TOO EARLY by the power of PURE UNADULTERATED AWESOMENESS.

And THEN. Oh, wait for it. Seriously. This will blow your mind.

And THEN I find out that Daf did the EXACT SAME THING today. FOR THIS FIC. OH MY GOD YOU GUYS.

Metal Heart by kartography. himym. brotp. nc-17.

READ IT OR REGRET IT.

sometimes things are pretty damn swell

2009-02-28T17:12:17Z

saw midnight showing of Starship Troopers last night. got scolded, but not thrown out. minor miracle. awesome, awesome Friday night.

went home, fell asleep, and dreamed of playing video games & making out with NPH. EVEN BETTER FRIDAY NIGHT.

oh thank god FIC AMNESTY, iron man edition

2009-02-25T03:40:48Z

Right, so fic amnesty kinda makes me want to post, like, a thousand things. But I still have hope for finishing most of them, so for right now, it's just this. After seeing this photo, I wrote the epic opening of this, and then tried and tried and tried to write the rest. It just never came. Maybe one day! For toastandtea, originally, girl, I SWEAR I TRIED.

"This is the story I want you to hold in your minds for the next few hours. Put everything else out of your heads, this is who you are, okay? Okay now just go there with me. It's 1944. But fuck the war, okay, don't worry about it, you're not worried about the war, maybe it's over already, that was '44, right? Okay so none of that. Just the year, just the smoke in the air and it's New York City and all the streets are new, the sidewalks smell new and chalky and you, your little heels are white with black laces, and you, you're ten years older and twenty pounds heavier. No, don't give me that, just feel it, okay? But you, we're going to get you in makeup and you'll be 25 if you're a day, fresh face in the big city, your eyes are always up, up, up into the highest window up there. Your parents are dead. Maybe that was the war? You're alone in the world, in the city, you're beautiful and you don't know what to do with it. And then you, you've got a finger in every pie, but nobody to love you. Came up from the slums, started a machine shop, now you own every fucking machine shop, built planes and cars, those big, curvy cars they had, you have every one of those cars, you look like one, big and muscled and a little angry and drunk. And then you meet each other. Somewhere iconic. Top of the Empire State Building. You've got a job as the elevator operator and you're on a cigarette break, leaning over the damn railing, holding it in one hand, the smoke in a filter in the other, that other arm stretched out behind you, little pencil skirt and pillbox hat, eyes so big and then your hairpins fall out and tumble all the way down through the sky and your hair falls over your eyes you think maybe that's it, little girl swallowed up by the big city, and then BAM, someone catches your arm and pulls you back, right into his big, broad, muscle car chest. Fuck me, that's beautiful."

The director flung himself backwards on to a sofa, spent, and for a crazy minute, they really were in the moment.

They were in Tony's fifteenth-floor office, all wood and brass, a museum of his life on the walls, what might have been the jetsam of an automobile crash on every surface. Him bent heavily over, sitting behind his desk, her perched light as air in the doorway.

"Little Miss Potts," he only met her eyes for a moment, then was back rifling through a thick folder, talking out the side of his mouth like a hoodlum. "Didn't expect you to show. Go on, sit down if you're coming in, you'll be the most exciting ass in my chair all day."

Pepper kept standing. She took her time answering, too, to see if it'd make him squirm. It didn't, quite.

Eventually, she said, "I quit my job."

His head still down, he said, "That why you lost the hat? Should have walked out with that hat, it was good for you, very Rosalind Russell."

"Well, you're no Cary Grant, but you were nicer looking back in '38."

He looked up to find her nosing around the packed shelves of his office, fingering a framed front page.

"Everyone was, kitten."

"You can stick to Miss Potts, Mr. Stark."

"You like it professional, do you? Well, you'll have to forgive me, I haven't worked with a lot of dames. Professionally."

"What makes you think I want to work for you?" She tapped her fingers across the framed glass. "Maybe I like unemployment. Maybe I'm footloose."

"Someone comes in my office, says Mr. Stark, I've lost my job, I know what that means."

"And I know you know less than you think you know."

Half a long look while he watched her fingers stop dancing. She kept her eyes on his eyes, she didn't sway on her feet, she looked taller than he remembered.

"Bah, who needs you anyway, then. A beanpole redhead who shouldn't be allowed above the second floor."

"Why were you up there anyway?" She needed something to do while she talked, so she sat, crossed and uncrossed her ankles, picked up a smallish screwdriver from his desk and clicked it along her fingernails.

"Up where." He put down his folder and watched her hands, picked up a wrench and mimicked the motions on his knuckles, exaggerating.

"Where we met. Top of the world." She ignores his hands, arches an eyebrow. "You're not a tourist, what were you doing up there?"

He moved on from fidgeting and picked up a couple sundry engine parts from the floor by his feet, started taking them apart in earnest.

"Usually I stand at the bottom and catch the silly dames who topple off, that day I thought I'd catch you up top, save myself the trouble." His dark eyes moved over the bits in his hands, out the window, up at her, back down. "I'm a hero, you know, Miss Potts, you should be awed. Honored to be here. That sort of thing."

"Guess I'm too silly a dame to realize."

He smiled, and it was small and slow and reached his eyes.

"I'm going to take you out to dinner," he said.

"No," she said. "You're going to give me a job."

The stylist or their assistant or someone handed them their clothes for the day and showed them into a side room with a privacy curtain splitting it down the middle, nothing else in the room but a mirror along the far wall. Half-transparent and hung from the ceiling, the curtain ended more than two feet from the floor. For all his talk on the way in the car, on an on about models stripping down en masse backstage, Tony went straight behind it and turned his back before undoing so much as a button. Pepper noticed that the door had no lock, like a particularly intimate changing room in a mall.

He didn't say anything, so she didn't say anything, and felt watched. There was something performative to the way she slipped off her top, rolled down her stockings one by one, unclasped her bra, her back to his back, the curtain between them, hyper-aware of every noise of fabric moving on skin. There came the moment when she stood there in bare feet, her hair falling over her bare shoulders, nothing left on but her underwear, small, cotton, and white, and she glanced behind her, to his shape against the curtain, and couldn't tell if he was looking back.

And then she slid the dress over herself and was covered in it, pale silk dipping down her back, down the space between her breasts, tickling at her knees. And he came around the curtain in his suit, double-breasted, big, she thought it was too big for him perhaps, but they'd said that was the style, and he just puffed out his chest, waggled his shoulders, and somehow seemed to expand into it.

They hadn't given her any shoes, so for the moment he had the merest height advantage. He came right up to the edge of her space and looked down at her, his hands on his jacket lapels, shoulders back, chin up.

"I like this," he pulled at the ends of his sleeves, dusted invisible lint off his shoulder. "It really accentuates my muscle car chest."

She allowed the smile to quirk her lips, because it was true, the suit cut the way it was, an electric blue light shone through clearly. Although, even if she couldn't see it, she could always feel it if she let herself go quiet. The prosthetic. A humming in the air right in front of him. If she touched him, she thought, his skin would hum.

"Somehow I knew you'd like that bit."

"It is a bit literal, I know, but I think it blows 'Iron Man' right out of the water."

Nobody came to knock on the door. Nobody had given them a detailed schedule for the day. She didn't know if they should leave the room. Her toes were cold; she curled them under her feet and rocked back on her heels, held her own hand.

"This feels weird," she said.

Tony stepped back from her, breathing room, and let that little quarter smile appear briefly.

"Just relax," he said. "Be fabulous for a day."

And, okay, one more. The RAGE-fic.

"He had this in him the whole time." Pepper couldn't take her eyes off it.

On the television, the tape Rhodey had brought, Iron Man tore apart a tank. Tore it to pieces. Took one shining boot and stepped hard onto its nose, took the shreds of its skin and ripped it open. A glimpse of the men inside found them screaming, sweating, not ready. Iron Man took one look at them and dropped the whole vehicle, kicked it spinning into a nearby wall. Now upstairs, Tony slept like the dead.

She said, "Years. His whole life. And I never knew. We never knew."

"We knew. I did," Rhodey looked at his hands and not the screen. "Knew there was something more. Hoped so, anyway, damn, I'll tell you that much."

"But not like this. God, Jim, look at him. Not this."

Iron Man took three explosive rounds to the chest, and stepped back, not from the impact, but like he was screaming at the shooters. Daring them. And then both hands forward, twin bright blasts, and the camera swung to see a tower fall, figures tumbling out, the whole metal structure collapsing down on itself. And Iron Man, sharp as a bullet, shot right through it as it fell, flew right through it and into the distance, and then all the camera saw was the dust and the rubble, the men crawling out or lying still.

"Those were bad men, Pepper. We sent him there; I sent him there."

"That doesn't make him the good guy."

The little shit it getting to him, and that's. He's not sure how to stop it. Getting caught by the longest red light in the city, and instead of low-yeild annoyance and pumping the stereo even higher, he sees the red in the traffic light, in the tail lights in front of him, his guts burn up, he gets this urge to crawl out his open window, peel himself from the car, jump onto the roof of the fucking hybrid up there, and in his mind's eye it shatters, it buckles under him, and everyone goes running. He sees it all clearly.

and on the 7th day, after a nap, he made sarkastic

2009-02-17T06:27:44Z

Tbh, this took so long to get around to because I DO NOT KNOW WHERE TO START. There are some people without whom my life would just be so much LESS. Less awesome, less full, less creative, less loving, less bright.

Here's something: I just poked around her userinfo just a couple hours ago? And the latest song she listened to was Queen - We Will Rock You. I could not make that up.

But beyond her great taste in music, Peggy just. Amazes me. All the time. And has done for a while. She's hosted heck knows how many ficathons, pimped fandoms, fics, all that good stuff, with abandon and wild success (girl is almost entirely responsible for me writing a story about LOGAN ECHOLLS. WHAT?? HOW?!?), she loves on her flist and we love her back, because sarkastic is everything that's good and right and awesome about fandom. She's that friend I'd never know about if it wasn't for this wacky world we've built, and I would have missed out BIG TIME. She will squee with you, and hair-pull with you, and stab out eyes with you (your own or those of show-creators).

I think of Peggy and I remember why I love being part of fandom. She loves loving the things she loves. She loves them full throttle, in both all caps and long rambly form. She takes that love and makes something beautiful with it.

And then there's how she's just a damned smart, coherent, head on straight young woman. I have this ridiculous slightly big-sisterish cheesy love for her in which, in my head, fandom is the village that raised her and omg she is going to do amazing things. But, only the last half of that is true. sarkastic is herself, and we're just lucky to know her. She's clever, and she's so caring. And maybe it's not my place, but I'm damn proud of her. When she graduated from high school, I pounded a fist to my chest and said "that's our girl." I have complete faith in her. I have endless love for her.

<3

UGH NO SELF CONTROL

2009-02-16T21:59:59Z

I WATCHED THE STINSONS OKAY. I DID IT. HAPPY NOW, INTERNET? YOU BROKE ME. YOU BROKE ME ALL. THE WAY. DOWN.

...and then I read some spoilers and now I'm gonna have a heart attack of WAITING.

IT WAS THE MISTAKE I HAD TO MAKE.

eta: spoilers in comments, natch

complete lies about ferricent

2009-02-09T23:41:57Z

(uh, sometimes I forget to finish things, but then I come back and finish them later. LOVE MEME PART 2: THE FINISHINGS begins here.)

So, I don't know if you guys knew this, but ferricent's real name is Jedidiah Goeffentry. I know, right? Kid spent five years of elementary school halfway down a toilet bowl and his first middle school dance under the table selling black market Pogs.

Shut up, you know you remember them.

Anyway, I'm sure you're all asking how it came to be that someone as hip and tall and leggy and preternaturally brilliant as I came to know someone as socially malformed as Jeddidiah Geoffentry. Well, I'm glad you asked.

You see, Livejournal, I'm the woman who made ferricent a man.

THE YEAR was 2003 (he was a late bloomer), THE PLACE was America (somewhere within there, it's fuzzy), and THE CIRCUMSTANCES were unpromising at best (at the outset). On the eve of ferricent's graduation from [PRESIDENT'S NAME] High, I (a 36-year-old, 5'9", cigar-smoking, powersuit-wearing Amazon from afar) had just flown into that certain town, city, or small gathering of farms. I was on business, but open to pleasure. You know how it is. Jedidiah had matured a little over the years, toying with facial hair for a (thankfully) brief period, learning to tap dance, trying (unsuccessfully) to seduce his art teacher. He'd made good progress towards becoming the awesome creature we now know as ferricent, but it was all on the verge of breaking down.

You see, Jedidiah was in love. Horribly, painfully, hair-tearingly in love. With Linkin Park. Yes, it was 2003, but come on, dude. Come on. It needed to stop. He had to be cured. BUT HOW??

Well, long story short I crashed his graduation party looking for hooch, under the guise of an undercover underage drinking bust, and when everyone else had left I found him in the closet smoking up and listening to That Band on his discman, huddled in on himself in passion and shame. What could be done for such a pathetic creature?

"You can be so much more," I said to him. "Why are you doing this to yourself?"

"They're rhythmically brilliant okay, they're ahead of their time," he said, and I smacked him across his youthful face.

"You're throwing away a bright future by drowning yourself in this steaming pile of worthlessness."

Sobbing, splayed helplessly on the couch in a crush of potato chips and his own tears, he said, "But I like them and they like me!"

It was sad, really, so I touched his face and took off my top.

"No, they don't," I said. And then we had sex.

And from the detritus of that night, from the bowls of M&Ms, the cans of cheap beer, from the bits of popcorn his helped pluck from my hair on our way out of that poor family's house, from those ashes he rose. He threw his discman on the driveway and crushed it beneath the heel of his New Balance shoe (I bought him different shoes too). From that moment on, he was ferricent, and he was awesome.

my incredibly full and enriching life

2009-02-09T07:38:29Z

A List of Things

1) So you know how there are sometimes little, stupid things that people can do and it just DOES IT FOR YOU? Like, one minute someone is just kinda there, and the next minute they can, I don't know, JUGGLE and you're SUDDENLY REALLY INTERESTED IN EVERYTHING THEY DO?

Except, if juggling is what does it for you, wow.

But anyway, so one of those things for me is pathetically close to juggling. It's bartender tricks. If a dude can flip bottles around and not drop them, and then pour liquor from them and into a glass (that then preferably is served to me), it kinda really DOES IT FOR ME. It's bro-y, it's dorky, and I cannot help myself, it fucking kills me.

This is to say, I've just watched HIMYM's Three Days of Snow again, and even though they suck at it, and even though I kinda usually hate on Ted...I HAVE A SUDDEN NEED FOR BARNEY/TED WHAT. WHAT. WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME. I DON'T EVEN HAVE AN ICON FOR THIS.

2) Other thing: my new PS2 that has so far not eaten my life. So far. I did while away several many hours today playing Marvel Ultimate Alliance. I'm not very good at video games...like, at all? But it has a ridiculously easy mode which basically allows me to just run around willy-nilly and geek out at all the different character bits and 616 trivia crap. And there is a LOT of that. And it is awesome.

I am kinda sad that Iron Man sorta sucks to play, but then again you get Deadpool right off the bat, so. And I hear you can unlock Nick Fury? What UP. I hope there's a special command to make him take a drag on his cigar while shooting with the other hand.

3) At work, there's been some lettings-go. It freaked me out, though since I'm still on a contract I'm pretty sure the worst that could happen is either that they DON'T hire me full time a month from now, or they extend my contract, thus stringing me along with the promise of employment while still withholding benefits and higher pay. To be honest, I don't even expect the third, more optimistic option of being actually hired on full time because, jesus, look at the state of things.

So, yeah, keeping an eye on monster.com and craigslist again. Oh joy!

4) Ikea never, ever wants me to have a couch. They keep their stock at a perfect level wherein everyone else can have a couch, but no, not me. Ikea, I'm on to you.

gabby_silang @ 2009-02-02T21:08:00

2009-02-03T05:33:55Z

SOOOOO in case you haven't already found it: Barney's video resume. YOU GUYS I AM SPUTTERING WITH LAUGHTER RIGHT NOW. I don't know what's funnier, the image of BARNEY recording it, or the image of NIEL recording it and CRACKING HIMSELF UP OVER AND OVER (N.B.- the line "BARNEYS STINSON'S SINGING THIS SONG" and then his little like DANCE WIGGLE and I think I am LOSING IT WITH COMPLETE AND UTTER LOVE RIGHT NOW). Or just the HILARIOUSLY CRAPPY GRAPHICS ON THE PAGE. AAAAHAHA. Oh jesus, I think I broke something.

Meanwhile, RECYCLING. WEAR A CONDOM. How awesome is it that both Barney's resume and Robin's word vomit sign-off both mainly consist of random WORDS IN ALL CAPS. TRUSTWORTHY. PUNCTUAL. DETAIL-ORIENTED.

Um, wait something else happened in this episode, right? Wait. Uh. OH YEAH FOOD BELLY. HOW STRANGELY LARGE AND SUDDEN, LILY? I will never tire of adorable and small people eating a huge number of hot dogs. It just doesn't. Get. Old. And if I could do that, it would so go on my resume.

Awww, and I even kinda liked douchey college Ted and his Happenings. Oh, show. If you can make me like Ted, you can PRETTY MUCH DO ANYTHING. I GIVE THEE LICENSE.

Oh hai also OMG SPARKLY EYES AND HUGS AND OMG HAIR TOUCHING YOU GUYS YOU GUYS. SHE STRAIGHT UP SPARKLED AT HIM. I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP. ALSO AAAHAHA HIS HIRING PROCESS.

Also, sidenote? The suit in that scene. I approve. That was a good suit, my friends. That was a very. Good. Suit. And, um, if you didn't know this, I have thing for suits? Sometimes I will go into fancy menswear stores and just. Admire them.

...it's only creepy if I buy one and hang it up at home to talk to, right? Right.

ANYWAY IT WAS A GOOD SUIT.

In conclusion: GOODNIGHT, SEATTLE. STAND TALL.

4 himym brotp recs, and the Life and Times of Fred the Car

2009-02-02T19:19:32Z

In honor of holy crap finally a new episode tonight, here's some recs. Being that I'm a big ol' noob to the fandom, it's possible that I'm just reccing the most commonly rec'd fics out there. BUT WHATEVER okay because they're all still GOOD.

First, the obvious.

Five Things Robin Scherbatsky Doesn't Do by fearlessfan aka the one with Walker, Texas Ranger.

So you know how Robin is pretty much the best thing ever? And, like, a completely believable and unique and complicated woman which GOD how often do you see that on tv these days? Well, yeah.

"Aww," Robin says, and scoots her chair around the table so she can put an arm around Lily's shoulders. It's the kind of thing she's always seen girls do for their friends but nothing she's felt compelled to do herself until now.

This fic gets that. Also there's this bit which I love more than I can describe.

She pulls out her cell phone and texts Barney: You were right about Walker.

Before the opening credits roll on the next episode, Barney texts back: You were wrong to doubt me, Scherbatsky.

Robin texts back: Why do you spell out my name? Doesn't it take forever?

Barney responds: I made it a macro.

Play a Tango by voleuse

This one's short, but jet gets it so RIGHT.

It was twenty-five minutes to broadcast, and Robin sipped water while her hairstylist sprayed on two minutes' worth of Aquanet. Her cell phone rang, and that's how she discovered Barney had reprogrammed her contacts to list him as The Best I've Ever Had.

like the border between greece and albania by irishmizzy

One in a proud tradition of fics with the theme of THEY HAVE BEEN SECRETLY DOING FOR A WHILE NOW YOU GUYS. Because, uh, hello? Yeah they have. Also, I love this line:

“You know, Ted warned me about this once. ‘Never go with Barney to a second location.’ God, I should have listened to him.”

The Distraction Reaction, and Part 2 and Part 3 by imsanehonest

I swear to God this is the script of the last couple episodes of this season. IT IS SO GOOD YOU GUYS. The story switches around through every character's perspectives and it WORKS. A LOT. Plus, her Marshall voice is to DIE FOR. There's catchphrases, and Bro Code, and SLAP BET FOR GREAT JUSTICE, and hilariously too-close-together sitcom apartment entrances! Some bits could use a bit of a beta, but, guys, for real, the awesome transcends that. A lot.

Anyway, so yeah. Those are some of the creme de la creme of what I've been wasting all my spare hours with.

MEANWHILE my car, Fred, a tough old '96 Accord who has been through several cross-country trips, too many Milwaukee winters, and also a parking spot directly underneath the most bird-perched-upon tree ever (ew), is in the shop today. Because something fell off him. Something FELL OFF MY CAR. I was just driving, not even like serious driving with the cursing and the finger, just driving down a quiet street and CLANG. Yup. It didn't seem like a very important part, but, you know, worrying. Things falling off isn't usually good news. So he's in the shop right now while I pray for them to call me with a very small number. Fingers crossed.

Hey guys it's LESS THAN 10 HOURS UNTIL A NEW EPISODE. WHY AM I SO EXCITED GOD HELP ME OH GOD

my newfound love is killing me

2009-01-31T00:47:04Z

So I haven't actually FOLLOWED a show as it HAPPENS for. A long while. If you don't count So You Think You Can Dance, anyway. But yeah, I think the strain of waiting for new episodes of HIMYM is going to drive me to drink. Drink and porn. Yeah. Yeah I'm pretty sure.

Considering I spent last night downing a bottle of wine and obsessively reading every fic ever written for the series, yeah.

You guys I might have to start writing my own under a pseudonym so I can get the thrill of reading other people's stories. THAT DOESN'T EVEN MAKE SENSE.

Also, wow, longest work day ever, huh?

gabby_silang @ 2009-01-27T19:22:00

2009-01-28T03:56:00Z

MAH ICONS.

default	oldest	newest


saddest	happiest	angriest


cutest	sexiest	funniest


fave ship	fave fandom	fave animated


best quote	best textless	best stolen idea


use the most	favorite

HOW MANY ICONS DO YOU HAVE: 90
OUT OF HOW MANY AVAILABLE ICONS SPACES: 120
IF YOU COULD BUY SPACE FOR MORE, WOULD YOU: Aw hell no, I barely got to 90!
DO YOUR ICONS MAKE A STATEMENT: I think they mainly state that I like pretty things.
WHAT FANDOM DO YOU HAVE THE MOST ICONS OF: Iron Man
AND THE SECOND MOST: Doctor Who
WHAT SHIP DO YOU HAVE THE MOST ICONS OF: I'm gonna go with Tony/manpain.
ARE YOUR ICONS MADE MOSTLY BY OTHER PEOPLE: Yup, though some are mine.
DO YOU MAKE ICONS: I do.
ARE THEY ANY GOOD: Pshyeah.
ANIMATED ICONS ARE: Usually annoying.

DO THE MEME.

Coding can be found here

incoherent girly noises

2009-01-27T04:32:41Z

So okay so I've just kinda gotten onto the HIMYM bandwagon? And I caught brOTP fever kinda bad. Kinda real real bad. Currently back-tracking to watch the first season and YOU GUYS. EVEN THEN. EVEN THEN A LOT. LIKE A LOT. Like did you guys know that whenever they're sitting next to each other in the booth (AKA ALL THE TIME), that Barney's ALWAYS got his arm slung back behind her shoulders? Like. ALWAYS. See, okay, I have lots of guy friends. And if they ever pull that on me, I instantly turn to them and give them shit for having a crush on me and then they look really embarrassed and avoid me for a long time. IN OTHER WORDS I'm very able to conceive of an alternate-yet-totally-in-canon reading of this entire series in which they are SO DOING IT ALL THE TIME.

Um. Yeah. Just had to get that out. Um. Fic recs? Anyone? Oh god help me please.

via robertdowney_jr

2009-01-24T20:41:12Z

Then there’s Edgar Allan Poe, from Nu Image Films, based on a script developed by Sylvester Stallone with Robert Downey Jr as preferred choice to portray the man himself in this biopic. It’s this reviewer’s pick of the litter, simply because of the many x-factors involved (excepting a perfect choice in Downey Jr). It could be great, could be terrible, or just somewhere in the mild middle. Place your bets.

PLEASE. YES PLEASE PLEASE. GOD PLEASE YES. (I know, Sly Stone script wtf. But. But. POE MOTHERFUCKERS. FUCKING POE. YES.)

a moment of silent awe for celli

2009-01-23T02:49:27Z

celli, I feel like I've known forever. This likely isn't true because I'm only 23 years old and forever started at least 60 years ago, but whatever. I shudder to think what kind of lousy place the internet and the world would be without Celli in it. She's one of the most loving, supportive people I know. That's all the more extraordinary because she's been through a lot herself, and yet still finds it in her heart to just give, and give, and give her compassion and good humor to her friends and family. Celli is always there for me, for all her friends, no matter how long it's been since you talked last. She really cares, and her heart is open, and she's kinda my hero.

Do I even have to mention how talented and accomplished and hilarious she is? Come on. She gets to put CPA after her name on business cards and stuff. If I was her, I'd sign off emails that way too.

<3