Katie

greyfable @ 2009-10-31T12:48:00

2009-10-31T18:23:45Z

Book Review: The Time Traveler's Wife

2009-08-15T02:39:45Z

Excerpt:
"What is the Meadow?" I am practically hopping with excitement. I have never met anyone from my future before, much less a Botticelli who has encountered me 152 times.

"The Meadow is a part of my parents' place up in Michigan. There's woods at one edge of it, and the house on the opposite end. More or less in the middle is a clearing about ten feet in diameter with a big rock in it, and if you're in the clearing no one at the house can see you because the land swells up and then dips in the clearing. I used to play there because I liked to play by myself and I thought no one knew I was there. One day when I was in first grade I came home from school and went out to the clearing and there you were."

"Stark naked and probably throwing up."

"Actually, you seemed pretty self-possessed. I remember you knew my name, and I remember you vanishing quite spectacularly. In retrospect, it's obvious that you had been there before. I think the first time for you was in 1981; I was ten. You kept saying 'Oh my god,' and staring at me. Also, you seemed pretty freaked out about the nudity, and by then I just kind of took it for granted that this old nude guy was going to magically appear from the future and demand clothing." Clare smiles. "And food."

During this section, I put the book down and decided it wasn't worth my time. Then two hours later I was bored, and decided to go back to it because, if nothing else, it was a very easy read. For those of you who have never heard of it, The Time Traveler's Wife is a love story featuring a librarian named Henry and an artist named Clare. When she met him, she was six. When he met her, her was twenty-eight.

Warning: I will be talking about anything and everything that happened in the book, including most major plot twists and, yes, even the ENDING. If you are going to see the movie and want to be surprised and uninfluenced (this is very opinionated) DO NOT READ THIS REVIEW.

Warning 2: LONG. 4,000 words. Sorry, I’m a windbag.

I picked up this book for one reason: The author is a teacher at my college - Columbia College Chicago - and I thought that was pretty cool. I've never met her (she's in the art department; I was in the television department), and don't know anything about her, but reading this book I can definitely tell she went to Art School. Henry DeTamble is an artsy girls dream man. He's a librarian who's read everything you can imagine, and probably in its original language (Clare and Henry both speak French, German, and at times read Latin). He quite Neruda poetry, listens to punk music, banters like its easy as breathing, and dresses in fun clothes like suits with lime green ties (more on clothing later).

The bulk of this book takes place in the 1990s, following the beginnings of their romance in 1991 and continuing years into their marriage - though, it takes place in lots of other time periods, too. Henry's time travel seems to let him go 50 years either way, though he tends to travel into his past and Clare's past. I guess this makes sense. The book explains that Henry's time travel is caused by a genetic disorder called "Chrono Impairment", so its plausible enough that his subconscious would often, but not always, send him back to significant moments in his life. He has revisited his mother's death hundreds of times. She died in a car crash. He was five. He survived because he time traveled out of the car right as a sheet of metal that fell off a truck was about to decapitate them both. See, time travel has biological imperative. It was useful one time!

Aside from that, though, time travel sounds like a complete bitch. Henry cannot bring his clothing, or anything else, with him and he has no control at all over where he ends up, or how long he'll be there. Time travel is often random, but it is also triggered by stress and, every so often, bright flashing lights (just like epilepsy, Henry explains). Roger Ebert writes in his review of the movie version (released today), "What’s remarkable is how upbeat and romantic [Henry is] able to remain, considering the difficulties of always rematerializing naked. You’d think he’d be worn down and demoralized."

I agree Roger Ebert. And in the book, he was - for, like, five years that are barely represented in the book at all. We get only a few glimpses of Henry before the age of twenty-eight, but he assures us during his POV chapters (or segments, rather, since the POV switches between Henry and Clare quite frequently) that he was pretty terrible. Between the time traveling, grief over his mother's death, and a rough childhood with his father he was on the verge of alcoholism! He says. We do get one POV segment where he drinks himself to the point of alcohol poisoning and ends up in the hospital. This is when he is dating depressive Ingrid, who he dumps the night he meets Clare. Ingrid, of course, never gets over him, because girlfriends in books never do. Anyway, Clare motivates Henry to be better! He stops drinking to excess (eventually he even stops drinking), cuts his very cool shoulder length hair, and eats more (if I had a hamburger for every time the author described Henry as "unnaturally thin" or "cancer-patient thin" I would be able to eat for a month).

Not that this is inherently unrealistic. Sometimes, love does motivate us to be better. But as I read, I kept thinking, "man, this story would be much more interesting if it wasn't so nice." If Henry wasn't so wonderful or cool (did I mention that, in addition to all the other neat things about him, he's the son of a Chicago Symphony Orchestra violinist and an Opera Singer?), if Clare were not so sweet and certain. I kept thinking, "how cool would this story be if a horror writer got a hold of it?" Because, when you think about it, their romance is creepy.

As mentioned, Clare meets Henry when she is six. He is somewhere in his thirties. He hides, stark naked, in trees beside the family meadow (they are $$$ so that have lots of land). He convinces her that he's her friend, and she gives him her beach towel. How could Henry not convince her? He's already visited her before, when she was older. And in the future, Clare was expecting him, because he gave her a list telling her every time he was going to come (it's a time-paradox list; Henry gives it to Clare when she's six, but only because Clare shows it to Henry when they're married; who knows who wrote it). To Niffenegger's credit, I can feel how Clare would fall in love with him. Clare's love is very believable. I think if I knew a man from early in childhood, and was able to trust him the way children sometimes do, and he always looked at me like he was in love with me, and he was always so wonderful to me, and taught me interesting things, and was my secret... yes, I would fall in love, too, even though he's sometimes as old as forty-five.

For the most part, Henry's a gentlemen. He treats her kindly and avoids talking too much about the future. By the time Clare's a teenager, she has it all figured out, and she spends lots of time throwing herself at him, trying to get him to have sex with her. I BET you can figure out how this ends. It's so obvious where that is going, that I'm not going to include it in this review. Their inevitable coupling wasn't interesting. What was is how much he let her kiss him before hand. There are no scenes where they make out, but when she's in high school (15 onward) Henry does permit the occasional kiss or cuddle. I suppose, armed with the knowledge that it will all turn out okay in the end, it doesn't matter much. But I kept thinking, "wow, that kind of thing could screw up an impressionable sixteen year old. Creepy!"

It does leave an impression on Clare, who barely dates at all - but has a terrible chooser when she does. Like many characters in romantic novels, these characters have not known love or happiness with the opposite sex until they found each other. Henry, as I mentioned, was dating a depressive, and when he wasn't doing that he was screwing around. Clare didn't see the point in dating. She was already in love with Henry. She knew she would marry him. She knew that they'd meet for real when she was twenty. So, why bother? But, to keep up appearances she goes on one date with a jock in high school. She won't put out, and he nearly rapes her, giving Henry a chance to come in and help her get revenge. When Henry time travels back to in-the-present-Clare she looks at him and says, "Thank you for that night" and they never speak of it again, and its no big thing.

Maybe I'm strange, but if I had just finished terrorizing a teenage for my teenage future wife and I popped into the present and all my future wife - who has never, not once, been violent ever - says is, "Thanks Honey," I'd be upset. Knowing the capacity that someone has for violence - justified or otherwise - is important, and certainly that's an event from the past that would change the present. But it doesn't. Nothing ever does. Henry pops into the present and beats a guy to get his clothes, and Clare's friend Gomez - a polish guy with a cool but unexplained nickname - sees and tells Clare. All Clare says is, "oh, Nick, huh? Well, Nick's a jerk." It would make sense, if Clare were a callous character, but she isn't. The only way to preserve this in the face of the realities of Henry's life (which involves a lot of mugging and pickpocketing - when you keep appearing random places naked you need to survive somehow) is to turn a blind eye to what he does when she's not around.

But I guess there isn't a point in objecting to anything when you've taken the point of view that life is predetermined. This also explains why Henry never feels threatened by Gomez, who is obviously in love with Clare the entire book, even after he marries Clare’s best friend. In a scene that was supposed to be shocking but wasn’t, we find out that Clare, bored waiting to turn twenty and remeet Henry, even slept with him once. I guess I understand why Gomex is not threat, but I am surprised two nice people aren’t outrages that one friend trapped another into a loveless marriage. And especially since Gomez was already dating Clare’s best friend when she slept with him – which is a very un-Clare thing to do much less ignore, but she denies a lot even though it seems like she wouldn’t, and she denies things so silently that you hardly notice unless you think about it, so the reader mistakes it for love.

But back to predetermination – Henry says can't change the past. Or the future. Clare and Henry spend a considerable amount of time being sad about things. He's sad that he had to watch his mother die, and can't stop it. He's sad that bad things happen to his friends, but doesn't bother trying to stop them. There are only four meaningful instances when Henry breaks the rules and uses his knowledge of the future. 1) To get money. I would to. He memorizes the next day's lotto numbers. 2) To help their romance. When Clare is young, he tells her where they'll meet. Later, when there is baby drama, older Henry tells Clare not to give up. The forth instant I'll keep quiet about, unless inquiring minds want to know, but its the smallest moment and my favorite "Henry tells Clare about the future" moment. All I'll say is it happens in the past.

Question: If you believe all events a pre-determined, why bother trying to have rules at all? By that logic, Henry telling or not telling Clare about the future changes nothing. All it does, it make Clare's life a touch more normal, and make Henry a nicer guy. *sigh* He's so nice. He's so nice. They're both so nice.

As much as I grumble about how nice they are, I must confess - I like them. I understand them, and I care about them. And, yes, I did think Henry's history was cool, with his wicked musician parents (at least, pre-accident they are wicked; post-accident, his dad is an emotionally abusive alcoholic, because its more tragic that way). And I like Clare, and her idyllic house, her neat German nanny... Clare's home life isn't perfect, either, though he childhood wasn't the nightmare that Henry's was. Her mom is a depressive and pretty much an alcoholic, her dad is a lawyer who can be very critical, and her brother inherited all her father's worst qualities. I find both their childhood believable enough, but sometimes Henry's just feels like too much. Despite all the scenes that take place during Clare's childhood and a fifty page segment when Clare brings Henry home to meet the folks, I feel like we spend less time on Clare's family, and I like them better for it. They feel more believable somehow. Maybe that's because, unlike Henry's dad, who reforms somewhere in the background, again because of meeting Clare (to an extent), Clare's family never changes.

I wonder if some of my discomfort with the coolness of the character's background and character traits comes from being too close to the action. There were so many times reading the book that I thought, "Oh yes, she went to Art school!" The book takes place primarily in the 90s, an I went to Art School in the late '00s, but replace the word "flannel" with skinny jeans" and boom! This was my scene. I suppose that Niffenegger was just writing what she knew, but there were so many times when I felt that she was heavy-handedly trying to create these cool characters with cool lives, especially whenever music or clothes were mentioned. Henry knows every punk band that ever existed (I wouldn't be surprised if Niffenegger, or at least on of her friends, knows too). Whenever there is an important occasion, Clare and Henry where important clothes and Niffenegger describes them at length. Or, for a few sentences, anyway. But in a book with sparse descriptions (in the excerpt I posted, Niffenegger barely describes anything; the rest of the book is better, but things are never especially detailed), these descriptions of clothing stick out. (And, on a humorous personal note, I remembering a so-terrible-it-rocks Harry Potter fanfiction that Rachael and I used to read, called “My Immortal” - I put on my black miniskirt and my fishnet stockings and my My Chemical Romance t-shirt….)

As much as I liked the characters, though, I was not always sympathetic, especially in the second half of the book. I think there are three reasons for this 1) The second half deals largely with their struggle to have a child, which for whatever reason didn’t interest me, 2) The second half is where they talk about the methods of the madness – doctors study Chrono Impairment – and… eh, and 3) I hate their wedding scene, which is the ending of part one. Hate, hate, hated it.

No life-changing moment in this book is complete without some time-traveling. I think I’d be sympathetic if my atheist boyfriend snuck out during church and time traveled away for five minutes. I don’t like going to mass, either. I might even understand if he left for a second or two during the birth of our child – he did come back, then. But the wedding was ridiculous. SPOILERS. So, Henry is naturally nervous. For months, he’s been looking for a drug – anti-epilepsy medications, anti-psychotics – to keep him in the present, but they all turn him into a zombie or worse, so he’s on his own for the big day. The worst happens – he time travels right before the ceremony and doesn’t come back until well into reception. Luckily, a future!Henry steps in and marries Clare. She marries a 40 year old version of her lover, and no one seems to notice (except for Gomez and another close friend, who help sneak present!Henry back into the reception later on).

And Clare doesn’t mind at all. She’s not bothered one bit. It’s the most romantic day of her life.

Now, one of the aspects of the book that I liked about this book was Clare’ relationship to older versions of her husband. Because she grew up with older Henry, she admits that she feels comforted when she encounters older versions of Henry (late 30s, 40s) in a way that her 30 year old Henry can’t replicate. Sometimes, its sweet (the scene when future!henry tells Clare to keep trying to have a baby because he has a child is very sweet, even if it ruins the suspense). But this is just too much for me. I can accept that Clare doesn’t mind that Henry doesn’t share her childhood memories. She knew all along that he wouldn’t have them until he was older. But I cannot accept that she wouldn’t feel betrayed by the fact that they do not have a shared memory of their wedding. Henry was 30 during the wedding, but the Henry who actually married her was 40 – she just waited ten years for him to know? I know Clare’s life demands patience, but that would infuriate me. I lost respect for both of them after that happened and they both failed to react in any way at all.

The first half of the book is happy compared to the second, which contains baby-having drama (Clare had more miscarriages than I have fingers on my right hand), another parent death (though this is a part of the narrative that works), and some unresolved drama from Henry’s past cropping up (remember, I said he dated a depressed girl who never got over him? Go ahead, just guess, I bet you know what happens), and other things. In addition to the parent death, there is one other part of the narrative here I really like – their introduction to Dr. Kendrick, who figures is burdened with explaining Henry’s time travel to the audience. Sans Clare, almost every character reacts to time travel with disbelief and then unrealistic (in my opinion) acceptance. Dr. Kendrick is different, because of the way he comes to believe Henry. Henry knows a horrible truth concerning Dr. Kendrick’s future, and it hurts, and it works.

Ultimately, Henry dies. His death, and a horror he suffered before his death, is all due to the time travel. Within a year, he goes to the wrong place at the wrong time, gets frostbite and loses his feet. Honestly, sometimes I feel like this part of the plot was just in there because the author and her art schooly friends would feel like its cool. I know my friends and I like a story that pushes boundaries and lets truly terrible things happen – that why I loved Perdido Street Station which I read a little bit before this. But only months later in his timeline Henry gets shot (by Clare’s brother and/or father, when they are out hunting, opps, on a day that isn’t listed on the paradox list) and dies. He manages to time travel back to Clare’s arms before he does. This means that when Henry meets Clare’s folks, they have already killed him. It should be a tragic realization, but the presentation is so clumsy that it just feels needlessly melodramatic (if well-foreshadowed). So the foot amputation trauma feels pointless. Henry doesn’t learn anything from it.

I guess Niffenegger is just trying to add suspense. We know that Henry is going to die, and this is a fake out. But it just seems gratuitous. Niffenegger does this early, when St. Clare is having all his miscarriages. Future!Henry tells her to keep trying, so she does, and loses another fetus (which, comes to think of it, that miscarriage it probably the grossest when described). See, she fooled us! But I wasn’t surprised. Nor was I surprised when it turned out that past!Henry was the one to father the baby, in the end. Isn’t that a fun time travel trick? Present!Henry got sick of the all dead babies, so it wasn’t until Clare slept with a past version of her husband who wandered in that she got pregnant for the last time.

Henry leaves Clare a letter that she reads after he dies, promising that he’ll see her again when she’s in her 80s. We spend thirty or fifty – however many pages it was – after Henry dies waiting for this reunion. Henry, of course, doesn’t tell Clare what will happen at the reunion, so I was so excited to finally read it. But, unfortunately, all Niffenegger felt the need to write was, “Henry appeared, and he embraces old!Clare, the end.” I was disappointed.

All that said, I was a decent book. I don’t regret reading it. The characters are relatable, even if they are a bit nice and remarkably unflawed. Their early romance had its moments. There were some REALLY fun time travel scenes. And I understood everything on an emotional level, which is always satisfying. But there were some elements that stuck me as unrealistic, the book always felt like it was very consciously trying to be cool, and the second part was not nearly as good as the first part. There were lots of questions the books simply ignored. For all the talk of Clare being like a sailor’s wife, always left behind be her husband, she spends remarkably little time being bothered by Henry’s sudden disappearances (I don’t think we got a proper rant until page 400). And the ending was very blah. Their kid – like so many other elements – was a bit unrealistically cool/perfect, though at least she had an awesome name. Alba. Which is Italian for “dawn”.

Somehow, I got through over 3,000 and haven’t talked about the narrative structure. I suppose I should. It’s almost linear. It begins at Clare and Henry’s first meeting, from his POV. Then we jump around in Clare and Henry’s childhoods at first. Then, back to the present and the romance. By that point, things have settled down, and we primarily stay in the present. If we travel to the past or the future, we are usually with present!Henry as he travels. Too bad. I think future!Henry’s POV during his adventures in Clare’s past were interesting. It’s funny. I think that pre-Clare Henry is interesting because he’s fucked up. I like post-marriage Henry because he’s mature. I like him least during the height of their romance. Weird. I think I like Clare best when she’s a teen trying to seduce him. It’s when she’s the most fun, and the most flawed.

Other stories that I think would have been more interesting:
1) So, Henry and Clare’s child is a time traveler, too. In one scene, she runs into Henry when he was twenty-five or so, and dating Ingrid. Ingrid realizes its his child, but Henry is clueless. Ingrid could probably tell that she wasn’t the mom. Can you even imagine? I think that moment, from her POV, would be a great story. As much as I complain about Ingrid part of the story being predictable/cliché, I like her.
2) Imagine if Henry was a bad person who gave into teen Clare’s advances? I’d love to see a story like this where the characters weren’t so squeaky clean, and the creepiness/inherent horror of the situation was recognized.
There are a hundred other possibilities, but I forgot lots of them, and those are the two that interest me most. I think I would have loved this book if it was a horror novel.

I am pathetic

2007-03-27T07:11:15Z

Really, I am pathetic. There is yet another "Good Fan Fiction" post on fireflyfans.net, with only five reponses so far and I am all :-( because I am not mentioned. And I know I won't be. And I don't really expect to be. But still, I am pathetically :-(. Mostly because I am horribly judgemental and going, "so-and-so? Pssh. Yeah, they write a lot but that doesn't make it good..."

Am I petty or what? And I barely even visit fff.net anymore, too.

There are two mentions so far I am glad of: browncoat_2x2 and Mal4Prez! yay!

On a completely different note, its that time of the semester. You know, when you have to plan for next semester. And I just had a crazy realization. Since I am a transfer student and transfering fraks up your gen ed credits, I always figured I would have to take an extra semester. But now, I realized that all I have left are...

29 TV credits: one more core, on concentration.
6-9 gen ed credits: can't remember if, but some stupid twist of fate I am required to take another english composition course, which I shouldn't because I was a FRAKING ENGLISH MAJOR at my former college, which was an academic college, not an art college, and therefore much, much, MUCH harder. While there I took not one, but TWO comp 2 courses, but... fraking transfering.

But, even assuming I must take english again, I intend to take two gen eds -- math and history -- at community college which means only 32 credit hours left for TV/English. And I could do that in two semesters.

What? Huh? Ah!!!

I am especially worried since I have been planning on doing a program called Semester in LA. Essentially, you have five weeks on intensive classes that take care of your concentration classes, then are, well, free to be in LA. There is an internship lab there, set up to help you find internships and entry level jobs. It really is an awesome program.

But... am I going to have to take it the semester after next semester now? And which concentration classes does it cover? And I heard that drama writing is only offered in the summer. But if its not and I had to leave, leave Chicago possibly forever in FRAKING JANUARY without my best friend who I always plan on being with all the time because... I mean, we transfered here together, I've always seen it as she and I going to LA together... JANUARY! What would I do? Where would I live next year? You can just get a lease from august to december can you? My mom is always nagging at me to live at home and save money, but I do not want to live at home, I don't, I don't, I can't, I won't. I love my family, but... no, I can barely survive weekends there. I am just freaking out. Totally freaking out.

But, it will be okay. I am going to email one of my teachers and ask if I can meet with her to ask her questions about the semester in LA program. If the "drama is only offered in the summer" thing is true, it might make my life a lot simplier. I would just have to stay here, regardless of where I go to school in spring '08. Work, maybe, get money for the move saved up. And I will talk to me academic adviser, too, and get info on that English credit and what, exactly, I have left in terms of gen eds. And I will look into community colleges and get to registering for a history and math (online, I hope, please god).

Still... I neve realized I might not need an extra semester until now. It would be good. Private art colleges are not cheap. Still... A year from now, from RIGHT NOW, I might be living thousands of miles away, in a different state with a different climate, working a lowly PA job most likely, and *gulp* alone? World, I love you, but your freak me out.

Dr Who iconage

2007-03-26T09:13:06Z

So, I saw the season 3 finale of BSG and -- ah! -- in order to calm myself I made Dr. Who icons? My logic doesn't make sense to me, either. And it didn't kill the excitement nearly as much as I wish, but, still, pretties!

16 Rose icons
from "Doomsday"

01. 02. 03. 04.
05. 06. 07. 08.
09. 10. 11. 12.
13. 14. 15. 16.

12 River Icons

2007-03-23T07:42:31Z

I just upgraded from GIMP to photoshop CS, yay! So, of course, I have spent the last several hours playing with my new toy. Here are the results...

12 Firefly Icons
from "Safe"

01. 02. 03. 04.
05. 06. 07. 08.
09. 10. 11. 12.

- comments are golden!
- credit if you take
- no hotlinking!

Hope you like them!

Icon Resources Post

2007-03-23T07:32:19Z

I have upgraded from GIMP to Photoshop CS, yay! It is awesome and I am already collecting resources...

Brushes
sensi_incanto
soaked
acme_graphics
meleada
ownthesunshine
ch_photoshopped
Touch-and-Go
Lileya
darkgarden
Beklagen
solitary-stock

Textures
twilighttrees
piekids_stuff
chaoticgraphics
tragic_icons
aisselle

BSG KLG2 Icons

2007-03-16T04:52:52Z

16 Icons from "Kobol's Lasting Gleaming p2"
for bsg_challenge

01. 02. 03. 04.
05. 06. 07. 08.
09. 10. 11. 12.
13. 14. 15. 16.

I'm Cyan-ish (not Cylon-ish)

2007-03-13T12:34:00Z

you are paleturquoise
#AFEEEE

Your dominant hues are green and blue. You're smart and you know it, and want to use your power to help people and relate to others. Even though you tend to battle with yourself, you solve other people's conflicts well.

Your saturation level is low - You stay out of stressful situations and advise others to do the same. You may not be the go-to person when something really needs done, but you know never to blow things out of proportion.

Your outlook on life is bright. You see good things in situations where others may not be able to, and it frustrates you to see them get down on everything.

the spacefem.com html color quiz

Yep, I am a much bigger sap and more cheerful than I like to admit. :-)

I mean... err... I'm an artist! Dark and deep. Yeah. Life sucks? Umm, yeah. Oh, Bartleby! Oh, humanity!

16 BSG Icons

2007-03-08T04:52:28Z

16 BSG Icons
from 3x17 "Maelstrom"
*warning: they are from MAELSTROM*
(though actually they are not that spoiler-y, because they are all of vipers flying, out of context of people or events)

- comments are golden (so, please comment!); if you have constructive critcism, feel free, but be nice
- if you take, please credit
- no hotlinking!

I hope you enjoy them...

01. 02. 03. 04.
05. 06. 07. 08.
09. 10. 11. 12.
13. 14. 15. 16.

Fanfic: "Bullet Tears"

2007-03-04T16:11:56Z

Title: Bullet Tears
Summary: For Firefly Friday. Inara has a breakdown shortly after she comes to the Black.
Rating: G
Word Count: 771

Bullet Tears

She collapsed onto her bed, pushing her nose into the silky-soft pink sheets, breathing in the latent scent of incense with greed and hunger and utter desperation as the white hot tears she’d been holding back all afternoon began to stream mercilessly down her cheeks. They rained out of her like a winter monsoon on Sihnon, each droplet of moisture falling out of her eyes with fury hitting the bed sheets like an angry, iridescent bullets looking for a target. They left her shaking there on her bed, shriveled and dehydrated, a tangled mess of thoughtless limbs curled into nothing. This was real crying. This was real, ugly, undignified crying, the kind that leaves you shaking for days. This was crying that was loud and frightening and without pride. Inara let it wash over her, unyielding.

She could have stopped it. She knew how. But she just didn’t want to. Not even if it was loud and ugly, certain to be heard by the six strangers on the ship who she’d shared the last two months with. Not even if the captain, such a mystery and full of judgment, heard her and used this against her tomorrow when they were trading quips at the dinner table. Inara didn’t care about the consequences. She didn’t care about tomorrow. All she cared about was today. All she cared about was what she was feeling right now.

She was lost. She was lost, alone on a chè fēn bié in the middle of no where, million of millions of miles away from everything and everyone she had ever known and loved. She was lost, utterly and truly, in every sense of the world, and she was crying, sobbing, and she didn’t care.

She’s sent her day at a tar processing facility. A tar processing facility. In her mind lingered violin concertos and dulcimer quartets that played at dances on Sihnon, the smell of all the women’s flowery perfume flooding the floor, and the feel of her silk dresses across her shoulder blades, tickling the too smooth skin of her exposed back. A tar processing facility. She smelled like it now. The stench of burnt rubber had seeped into her clothing, her curls, everything.

She was supposed to have it all.

It seemed so silly, part of her acknowledged, crying over the loss of the privilege she had forsaken when there were people in the universe who didn’t just visit tar processing facilities as the crew they boarded with picked up cargo, but lived there. People who woke up every morning at sunrise not to admire the changing light but to strap on thick, rubber-sole boots and hard hats so that they could work in a tar-processing facility. Day after day after day. It seemed so petty to miss parties and fine music when half, maybe even all, of the crew members on the ship had never had the opportunity to learn about symphonies in music class, much less see one perform. Well, maybe Inara was small. Maybe she was petty. She could name at least a dozen people who would grin smugly if she ever admitted it, at least a dozen people who were waiting for the high and mighty Inara Serra to fall from her thrown.

But the thing was Inara hadn’t fallen. She had chosen to leave it all behind.

She took a deep breath, concentrating on the sensation of the air moving through her body, going in through her nose, down her throat, filling her lungs. She held it there, inside her, counting silently in her mind yī, èr, sān, sì... She exhaled through her mouth, the steady stream of air chilling her lips as it escaped her body. She breathed. She breathed again and again and again, breathed until her control of the air defeated her melancholy tears. It was finished. Everything was silent. Everything was still.

The smell of the tar still lingered in the room. It brought Inara back into herself. With a heavily sigh she pushed herself up. She pushed herself onto her elbows first then sat up properly on the bed. With the back of her hand she wiped wayward tear streaks off her cheeks, wiped away the evidence that she had ever broken down like this. There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” she chimed.

The captain poked his head inside. “Super’s in ten,” he said, already on his way out before the words had completely left his mouth.

“Thank you,” she said to his back in the doorway.

She stood up, walked over to the mirror, and began silently reapplying her makeup.

Rose is so pretty

2007-02-25T07:22:07Z

She is so, so pretty...

28 Rose icons
12 from "New Earth"
16 from "Fear Her"

These icons use textures made by ~webgoddess

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Dr. Who Icons

2007-02-22T06:45:38Z

In order to ease to post-doomsday depression (and in an attempt to avoid doing actual homework), icon fun.

16 Icons, all from "The Impossible Planet" or "The Satan Pit"
All Rose/Doctor-ish

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My Favorite TV Characters Survey

2007-02-20T09:42:04Z

My lovely roommate now has a tv!nerd lj, gogorachet, and she has posted this lovely survey, which I find myself compelled to fill out, too. Instead of doing things I should be doing. :-)

Twelve of my favorit TV characters, in no particular order

1. Inara Serra - Firefly
2. Kara "Starbuck" Thrace - Battlestar Galactica
3. The Tenth Doctor - Doctor Who
4. Angela Martin - The Office
5. Captain Kathryn Janeway - Star Trek: Voyager (what? it was the worst Trek series, you say? Screw you.)
6. Dr. Gregory House - House, M.D.
7. Dr. Perry Cox - Scrubs
8. John Locke - Lost
9. Keith Mars - Veronica Mars
10. Anya - Buffy the Vampire Slayer
11. Nathan Petrelli - Heroes
12. Maeby Funke - Arrested Development

Q: When's the next time you're gonna see 4?
A: Thursday, on NBC, 8:30, CST.

Q: Is number 6 pretty?
A: Handsome, not pretty.

Q: What's the best memory you have of 9?
A: Oh, so many... I guess the one that really stands out is Keith telling Veronica he is, without a doubt, her father. As the creator has said in commentary, the dialogue is nothing special. The acting sells that scene. That, and his impressions.

Q: What was your first impression of number 10?
A: Ah! A veiny fairy!

Q: How did you meet 3?
A: After the ninth doctor absorbed the energy of the time vortex into him to save Rose, glowed, and evovled into someone hotter, oh, so much hotter... and the hair...

Q: Is 11 your best friend?
A: If he was, I would need to be very careful.

Q: Have you seen 5 in the last month?
A: No... yes? Possibly. Oh Spike.

Q: Do you think 2 has a crush on you?
A: She probably sees me as a good lay, but not much else, and she'd do almost anything to get a young thing for the night, both before and after her marriage.

Q: When was the last time you saw 12?
A: On DVD. She was pretending to be a disabled girl named Surely.

Q: Have you ever been to 1's house?
A: Oh, several times. I sometimes barge in without knocking, shame on me.

Q: When's the next time you'll see 10?
A: Whenever is strikes my fancy. I have her on DVD. And I do love "selfless" so.

Q: Have you ever been to the movies with 4?
A: No. This is probably a good thing.

Q: Have you ever gotten in trouble with 2?
A: It's unavoidable.

Q: What do you and number 3 talk about the most?
A: I am trying to get him to teach me how to travel through time, since it is one of my life's ambitions. He responding by talking gibberish in circles. I find it so adorable I melt. Needless to say, not much luck with discovering the secrets of time.

Q: Do you even know 9?
A: Hmm... do I? do you?

Q: Would you give number 3 a hug?
A: I would never let go. I would never, ever let go (and don't you dare tell me not to say never, ever!)

Q: Are you in love with number 12?
A: I'm in love with her mischief.

Q: Have you ever lied to number 6?
A: Yes, but only because I wanted to hear him say "everybody lies." He did not disappoint.

Q: Do you know a secret about number 8?
A: Not as many as I want to. :-/

Q: Describe the relationship between number 9 and number 5.
A: Well, this one day Keith Mars found himself on a spaceship, where he met captain Janeway. He liked that she was a strong woman who wasn't scared. She liked that he was very animated and fun, but at the same time still moral and good hearted. It made her realize that the Chakotay thing? Such a waste of time. They are good friends. She loves his impressions.

Q: What is the best thing about your friendship with number 4?
A: Its a little creepy and that's awesome.

Q: What is the worst thing about number 1?
A: The fact that her show was canceled before we learned her backstory? That, and she is kind of bad at dealing with romantic feelings in a mature way at all.

Q: Have you ever danced with number 7?
A: I asked him, and he started calling me boys names.

Q: How long have you known number 12?
A: About... hmm... three years?

Q: Have you ever been in a fight with number 8?
A: If it was wheelchair-Locke I would so take him. But, he's Island Locke, so I just don't go there.

Q: Does number 9 have a boyfriend/girlfriend?
A: He's divorced.

Q: Have you ever been a co-worker with number 6?
A: No. I am too scared.

Q: Have you ever wanted to punch number 2 in the face?
A: Yes. What is with all this still quadrangle reltionship stuff? Anders is better. I get that you have always had a thing but damn it if by some weird twist of fate you end up with Lee and I don't get to see Anders' hot body...

Q: Has number 1 ever met your mother?
A: No. Its too bad, I think they'd get along, but mom isn't interested.

Q. How did you meet number 6?
A: Rachael introduced us. Thanks Rachael!

Q: Did you ever accidentally physically hurt number 5?
A: I would never do that! I worship her.

Q: Has number 2 ever seen you naked?
A: Well, I mean, public space ship showers. What can you do? No that I mind. ;-)

Q: What is the best memory you have with number 1?
A: Oh, can you ask me a harder question? Hmm. Does when she was generally awesome all the time and put people in her place count? No. Well, then I will go with the OiS kitchen scene when they were talking about River. Putting down Jayne. Keeping everyone on topic. She's just... interesting, interacting with people outside of Mal. Sadly, show died before we got to see too much of that.

Q: Do you live close to 7?
A: I have no idea, actually.

Q: What is number 2's favorite food?
A: Hmm... well, either noodles or stake. I mean, she ate noodles while tortureing Leoben in season one. But in season three, she killed him and then ate stake... You know what? I am so wrong about this. Her favorite food is alcohol.

Q: Out of your top 12, which one would you say is the funniest?
A: Angela Martin, but I don't think she means to be.

Q: Who is the most flirtatious?
A: Inara Serra. She's a professional.

Q: If you could change one thing about number 10, what would it be?
A: The amount of screentime she gets in season seven and her untimely death.

Q: Say something nice about number 11.
A: He made an amazing transformation from one of the most "meh" characters to one of the most interesting ones, go Nathan. And he got sympathetic somewhere down the line, too.

Q: Which one lives the farthest away?
A: Either Inara of Janeway. Or maybe Starbuck. We just don't know.

Q: Which one do you hang out with the most?
A: Hmm... lately, the doctor. But overall, Inara.

Q: Who is the loudest?
A: Hmmm... Dr. House or Dr. Cox. Hard to tell. Or maybe Starbuck.

Q: The quietest?
A: Angela is very private.

Q: What kind of car does number 12 have?
A: A convertable, I believe. It was red. What over car would a fifteen year old studio executive drive?

Q: Have you traveled anywhere with number 8?
A: Well, we were on this island...

Q: If you gave number 5 $100 dollars tonight, what would they spend it on?
A: Give them to Tom Paris. He loves all that 20th century earth stuff. It would be worth nothing to her, literally.

Rose!!

2007-02-17T23:17:59Z

I just watched "Doomsday" *cries* Rose! No! Rose!

BSG Icons

2007-02-13T08:37:19Z

Colonial Day icons for bsg_challenge

Please comment! I admit, I am a bit of a comment whore. Please credit if used. No hotlinking. Enjoy. :-)

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Random

2007-02-12T07:59:28Z

Well, taking Fiction Writing this semester instead of taking another GenEd is offically one of my better decisions. I don't know if its improving my writing, but it is definately making me not afraid to write about things that are personal unapologetically. Well, less apologetically anyway.

Among my not-so-good decisions? Ugg. Chosing my final project group for TV Learning Community. Roommate and I are in the same section this semester, as are some of her buddies from last semester's learning community section. And they are cool. And I think their project is going to be cool. But I didn't want to feel like I was relying on roommate for a social life (which, I hate to say it, but I basically do; I love Chicago, but I really haven't made many casual friends, much less close ones).

So, instead, I am in a group with three boys. One I was in my LC section last semester and I adore him. He's just a warm, fun guy. One is a bit... hmm... well, he doesn't seem to care about all of this as much as the rest of us. Which isn't to say he's incompitent, just... a bit lazy. I like him as a person, but I am not sure I will like working with him. Third boy is from the other section, so I don't know him well. I think it is another case of "like him, will probably dislike working with him." I can tell already he's not especially interested in listening to me. Of course, he probably feels the same way about me. Final Project looks like its going to be a humor/horror video. Part of the problem so far is that we can't seem to nail a theme at all. And Boy-3 doesn't seem to want to talk about it. Boy-1 & 2 don't get it. *sigh* Maybe its just that its too early in the semester for people to take the final project seriously.

Or maybe its jus that they are giving us too much to do. Rough cut of Project-1 -- the Dream video -- is due thursday. What do I have to do by then?:
- Re-write portions of the script, since teachers thought it was too confusing? okay...
- Film. Tomorrow. Should be fun. Did I mention that I don't exactly have actors yet?
- Edit. I have four hours reserved - two tuesday, two wednesday. We'll see if I can't sneek on more time somewhere. Someone once told me for everyone minute of video there is an hour of editing behind it. Such liars. There is way more than an hour.

So, I guess this week promises to be busy.

An amazing thing happened this weekend: Roommate and I and Roommate's Former Ex, now Current Boyfriend (he's a nice guy, don't get me wrong, but am I worried about the break up now that they are together again? yes, I am) cleaned the apartment. It was not an easy task, believe me, but it was done. And now it looks so nice! Why the cleaning? We threw a party on saturday. It was nice. Lots of people I haven't seen for a while. People were gone by about two thirty, so I was happy. What can I say? I am a stick in the mud, and get annoyed when people stay too long.

I am just not that social, I guess. Well, at least since school started I am not feeling as lonely. And the party was definately nice. I just... I don't know. Its like I ignored my social life in high school, and now I am internally sixteen in the way I think about my social standing. Okay, perhaps this is a bit of an odd way of looking at it, but, whatever. Note to self: must make a good group of friends before summer, or I will go insane. Kind of like last summer.

Let's see, what else can I ramble about...

I think that's it. Peace!

28 Inara Icons

2007-02-12T06:25:49Z

Since I didn't feel like doing much this weekend...

28 Icons, all from HoG

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Nandi/Inara icons

2007-02-09T23:49:18Z

Blame these two: goldy_dollar for writing a fic, and browncoat_2x2 for being the reason she wrote the fic and because, well, we know how browncoat_2x2 feels about this pair...

16 HoG (Inara, Nandi, Nandi/Inara)

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Blah. Amazon.

2007-01-19T21:06:31Z

*shakes fist at amazon.com*

So, my Firefly disk one has a scratch, so I decided to buy a replacement DVD set. Lucky me, amazon.com has them on sale for $24.97. The bad part? That is three cents away from being eligable for free shipping!

So, I decided, no I am not paying $2.99 for shipping. I will shell out an extra $2.00 and get an under $5.00 book. I decided to look through all their scifi books, because I am a nerd.

Rejected under five dollar books:
- "Those Left Behind" book one. You've heard of those. The post religious apolocolypse books. They were being sold for $1.00. And no, that isn't the "buy it from some one" price, its the amazon.com price. But even $1.00 is a dollar too much as far as those books are concerned. Pass.
- "Song of Ice and Fire" book one, which I really though about since it was under $4, but my roommate has a copy -- two, actually -- so it really would be a waste of money. Oh well.

Then I found the bargin book section. Appearently, I have the mentality of a ten year old because all the books that attracted me, based on title alone, were for G3-6. No thank you.

It ended up coming between:

Eleven Karens: A Novel by Peter Lefcourt

and

A Bit on the Side : Stories by William Trevor

I ended up going with A Bit on the Side because it seems more literary and I have been feeling pangs of "I miss being an English Major" lately. Based on the description, lots of the stories have female leads, which is a plus, though it sounds potentially depressing. It had more stars in its rating, though. Eleven Karens sounded more fun, though potentially sexists. Plus, if I am going to buy erotica, I want it to be more women-aimed.

I am now wondering if I made the right choice.

At least I get my free shipping, though.

20 M/I icons

2007-01-17T04:36:45Z

I am bored and school is still one week away, hence probably too much fiddling with icons for my own good. They are all from the theatre scene in "Heart of Gold". There just aren't enough icons of this scene.

All the usual rules apply. Credit. Don't hotlink. And if you like them, please comment.

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Fanfic: "Snow Angels"

2007-01-15T08:19:28Z

It's two hours late for my offical Truthsome Fic deadline, but it is still here! Let there be much rejoicing!

Title: Snow Angels
Rating: G
Spoilers: Two months or so Post-BDM
Thanks: To carmen_sandiago for running the contest (and hopfully forgivng me for being two hours late, lol!) and browncoat_2x2 for agreeing to beta even though it ended up not happening because I am horribly lazy and didn't finish this fic until... now, pretty much.
Summary: Serenity is delivering medicine to a very snowy planet. Inara goes with Mal to make the delivery.

Snow Angels </i>

Malcolm Reynolds was an early riser. It was a habit he’d gotten into during his childhood. His mother would wake up at dawn to start chores. Mal always got up with her to help, even when he was very young and not much help at all. These days, he didn’t need to get up so early – if there was such a thing as ‘early’ in space – but he did anyway. On some days it was a comfort. He woke up and he felt connected to his mother, to Shadow, to that person he was before. Other days, it was a torture. He woke up bone tired, cursing his mother’s memory. Rarely did he wake up to the sound of voices.

Mal noticed them before he even opened his eyes, the sound of laughter drifting down from the kitchen. Kaylee’s mirth filled giggles. Jayne’s confident snicker. River’s overly loud chortle. Heck, he even though he heard the doc’s nervous chuckle. For a moment, Mal smiled at it. There really hadn’t been much laughter on his boat lately. There was a part of him that pretended that was a good thing, more orderly. But he remembered his mother, too, and how her ranch hands would laugh, telling dirty jokes that Mal would repeat to his friends at the school house…

“Mornin’ Cap’n!” Kaylee greeted cheerily when Mal entered the room. “Sleep well?”

Mal didn’t answer for a moment, taking in the site of the room. Jayne and Zoe were sitting next to each other at the table, Zoe’s right ankle supported by the chair on the other side of the table. Zoe nodded to him when he entered. Jayne, though, was much to busy concentrating on the metal monstrosity on the table. “Umm… Kaylee,” Mal said, “what is that?”

Kaylee smiled in response, practically bounding. “It’s a sleigh, Cap’n!” He tilted his head. “For sledding?” He still didn’t react. Kaylee smiled anyway. “Jayne an’ River an’ me have been workin’ on it all mornin’. Its gonna be the best sleigh ever.”

“Damn right!” Jayne chimed.

“It could be,” River added, popping up from under the table. “Simon wanted to make it wider, but he didn’t understand that it would be thirty-eight percent less fun that way. We ended up compromising to twelve percent.”

“Twelve percent fun?” Mal repeated.

Everyone burst into laughter. “No, silly,” Kaylee said. “See, River an’ Jayne had wanted to make the base of the sled a little narrower so that it would go a bit fast but Simon –”

“Simon’s a boob,” River explained.

“He didn’t think it was safe,” Kaylee elaborated.

“Right,” Mal said. “So… where is the doc? Thought I heard ‘im earlier.” Mal asked, eager to change the subject.

“He’s getting my meds, sir,” Zoe answered quickly. “Jayne’s too.” Mal acknowledged her with a curt nod, his eyes darting involuntarily to Jayne, lingering there for a moment. Not three weeks before, the man had been lying on his death bed, barely able to take breath. Four broken ribs, a bullet wound with internal bleeding, head injury… Mal had always expected Jayne would die like that, in a job gone wrong. It was a grim truth he’d carried on his shoulders since he’d hired the mercenary. He just didn’t have any idea how much it meant until it nearly happened.

But now, Jayne was nearly back on his feet. Zoe was nursing an injured ankle, curtsey of a second job gone wrong, but it wasn’t so bad. They’d headed to Greenleaf to buy some medicine off a guy Mal knew, an employee of a pharmaceutical company who liked to sell a little illegally on the side. Simon had made him get more antibiotics, morphine, a few more specialized drugs that Mal hoped they’d never need. A vain hope, he supposed, since Simon had only wanted them for Jayne, drugs Jayne needed and drugs Jayne had needed, but had been forced to do without when…

Sometimes, Mal felt that there was a force in the universe that was out to pick his crew off one by one. Sometimes.

“Has Inara come down yet?” he asked Zoe.

His second shook her head in response. “Haven’t seen hair or hide of her.”

In addition to picking up their own meds, Mal had arranged a simple transport job. Every planet had its quirks. Jñāna’s quirk was that it had an unusually high concentration of proteins that tended to cause respiratory problems around in its atmosphere. Not fatal problems, mind, unless you had asthma already, but poor health nonetheless. In the more populated southern regions it wasn’t much of a problem. The meds were in easy supply. The northern regions weren’t so lucky. There were very few places to land up there, safe places, anyway. Mal wasn’t so happy about being there himself, but with two jobs so recently having gone south the ship needed the money.

Mal was supposed to meet some folk at the drop point in five hours. On account of his tow gun hands being sidelined with injuries, and Kaylee being so eager to show Simon and River how to play in the snow (turns out, the snow on St. Albans was the first snow either Tam sibling has ever seen – it simply doesn’t snow in Capital City, Osiris), Inara was going to accompany Mal to the drop point.

He wasn’t too happy about it.

“Well, she’d better get here quick,” Mal said. “Woman’s gotta start pulling her weight ‘round here.” But not like this. Mal had watched yesterday as Zoe and Inara sat at the kitchen table an went over the quirks of a mid-sized pistol that Inara was going to borrow. Inara with a gun. Mal knew that Inara had had one during the Lassiter job, but that had just been for show. At least, Mal always thought of it as being for show. He’d never seen her holding it, pointing it. He’d never imagined her holding it. It seemed wrong to him. Inara wasn’t a warrior.

“Oh, Cap’n, relax. You got plenty of time!” Kaylee said. “Mule’s all prepped an’ they don’t expect you at the drop sight for a long time yet.”

“I know that,” Mal snapped. Off Kaylee’s hurt look, he added. “Look, I just… I don’t want things to get complicated, all right?”

“And I see no reason that they should,” Inara said, stepping into the kitchen. Mal whirled around to see her. Her hair was pulled away from her face, chocolate curls draped over her left shoulder. She was beautiful. She walked past him, heading for her food locker. “After all,” she said over her shoulder, “it’s just a simple drop, right?”

“Yeah, well, it’s always a simple drop, isn’t it?” He said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Inara just smiled at him as she poured her tea, then headed out of the room. Kaylee and River left shortly after, eager to refine the new piece of patched together engine parts, or whatever it was they used to make their sleigh. Jayne walked behind them, a little slower, more cautious and less excited. Mal sat down at the table, nibbling on a piece of toast as he watched them go.

“She ain’t weak,” said Zoe, sitting patiently. “Proved that on Miranda.”

Mal sighed. “I know she ain’t weak,” he said. “Doesn’t mean she should be goin’ out on jobs. She ain’t trained for it. She’s got not experience, no qualifications…”

“You need a resume to be a thief these days, Captain?” said Zoe, flashing him a wry smile. Mal smiled back too, weary, tired despite all the sleep he’d gotten the night before. Sounds from the cargo bay drifted in as Kaylee loudly chastised Simon for not providing River with a more feminine jacket. Mal shook his head. “It’s a simple job,” Zoe reminded him. “Ain’t dealing with soldiers. Ain’t dealing with crooks. Just a group of people lookin’ to take care of their own. They ain’t dangerous.”

“We’ve got ourselves into worlds of trouble dealin’ with folk who ain’t dangerous. Literally. Worlds.” He sighed. “It’s just… lately, Zoe, things ain’t been…” He sighed again. “Almost seems to me as if they’re a… force or… or a…” He took a sip of his coffee, trying to sip away the ridiculousness of what he was about it say, the ridiculous of thinking that maybe God was mad at them for Miranda. For whatever reason. Not that there was a God. There wasn’t. He’d learned that a long time ago, but…

“She ain’t kissed you yet, has she?”

Mal nearly choked on his coffee. “’Scuse me?”

“So, she really hasn’t.” Mal ignored her, focusing instead on cleaning his coffee-stained shirt. Zoe handed him a napkin and continued. “So which are you more afraid of., Inara kissin’ you, or Inara not kissin’ you?”

“I’m more afraid of ‘Nara and I gettin’ shot in the face, actually,” Mal said, getting up to throw away the dirtied napkins. “But thanks for your concern.”

~*~

She hadn’t worn the pants for a long time. Inara had received them from a client who wanted to take her horseback riding. He was a rich business executive, much older than she was. He was a very sweet man but also a very lonely man. His favorite thing in the world was his horse, an Arabian whom he called Arizona. It was a place on Earth-that-Was, the place his family had come from. Inara sighed. It was a useless memory. And the pants were useless, too. They wouldn’t do a thing to protect her from the cold should she get wet, but… but they were all she had.

So she wore them. She had two pairs of tights on underneath to keep from being too cold. Some sweaters. Her coat and hat and gloves and scarf were laying on the bed, which remained unmade even though she’d woken up hours ago. The neatness of the shuttle – which was once her shuttle, but didn’t really feel like hers any longer – didn’t matter to her the way it once did. Right now, she had more pressing matter. The gun.

She was already wearing the holster. It had been fairly simple of put on. It looked ridiculous, so long and worn, against her brand-name, rarely used equestrian khakis. But it was on. The gun was loaded. Inara had spare ammunition in her coat pocket, though she doubted that she’d need it. She doubted that she’d need the gun at all. And yet, she had it, on her body, on her bed. She put the gun into the holster and sighed. Such an easy movement. Effortless.

~*~

Kaylee insisted on making them mugs of hot chocolate before they were allowed to go. Mal had refused his, citing that he couldn’t hold onto it and drive the mule at the same time, anyway. Inara held hers in her hands, sipping it periodically. They had been on the road, silently, for almost fifteen minutes. The warm, chocolate liquid was starting to grow cold. Inara thought about downing it all in one big gulp so that it wouldn’t go to waste, but decided against it.

“How much further to the drop point?” she asked, trying to keep her voice even and conversational. She and Mal… they hadn’t been fighting lately and Inara wasn’t in the mood to chance their sudden truce. Mal was tense. She could see it in every movement of this body. She had no desire to set him off.

“About thirty minutes,” Mal said.

“That’s…” Inara let her voice trail off. She didn’t really know what that was. Good? Great? Okay? A long while? Chilly? She sighed softly, hoping that Mal couldn’t hear her. Much as she wanted to pretend things were normal, they weren’t normal. For the seventh time since they left Serenity, Inara fingered the pistol strapped onto her leg.

“Stop doing that,” Mal barked.

“Sorry,” Inara responded. The response was immediate, uncharacteristic. Mal softened instantly.

“Its just… it’s a bad habit to get into. If you keep… drawing attention to your gun then the client might get the wrong idea, that’s all,” Mal explained. Inara smiled politely.

“I’ll try to remember,” she told him. Then, after a pause, she added, “I’m nervous about this, Mal.”

“Me, too,” he answered. “But, it’s a simple drop-off. Should be no use for guns. Everything is going to be fine.”

Inara shook her head. “That’s not exactly what I mean. I mean… that certainly is part of it. The gun. This job. But it isn’t all of it.” She took another sip of Kaylee’s hot chocolate despite the fact that the liquid truly had grown cold now. She looked out at the scenery that stretched before her. Mountains stood majestically in the distance, quiet and wise, covered the snow that shimmered as his fell through the air. Jñāna’s was beautiful. “I haven’t spoken with anyone from the Guild for two months.”

“Is that so?” Mal said. She couldn’t read his tone of voice. Or, maybe she just didn’t want to. She knew he hated talked about those things, but that that moment she really didn’t care.

“It’s so,” she told him. “After Miranda, I waved Sheydra to tell her I was taking a leave of absence from the house. I… I purposefully waved her when I knew she was sleeping, Mal. Maybe it makes me a coward, but… at the time, I wasn’t sure I could deal with the disapproval she would hold in her eyes. I just wasn’t strong enough. I still don’t know if I’m strong enough.”

“You’re strong,” Mal told her. Inara’s heart swelled with warmth. And then, “and if you ain’t, well, today is a good day to fake it.” She was cool again, instantly cool, and again she was not sure what to say.

“Usually,” she managed, “this is the part where you ask if I intend to stay.”

“Usually,” Mal agreed.

“Well,” Inara prompted, “aren’t you going to ask?”

Mal sighed loudly in response. “I ain’t doin’ this, Inara. Not now.”

Inara nodded, though she knew he wasn’t looking, couldn’t see. It was an improvement, really. Not so long ago, Mal would have tried to shut her down with a hurtful or judgmental remark instead of just telling her that he wasn’t in the mood to have this conversation. Small steps, Inara thought.

Except they weren’t taking small steps. At least, she wasn’t taking small step. Two months ago, Inara had betrayed an Operative of the Alliance and fled from the Training House. On a certain level, that meant she’d betrayed the Guild, too. She’d resumed living in the black again, something she’d told herself she would never do. She told herself, when she left, that a person needed ground under her feet so that she would always know where she stands.

And that was the problem. Inara didn’t know where she stood. Not anywhere, nor with anyone. Everyone had changed since she left. Some in big ways, like River who was getting… better, or as better as was possible. Really, they had all changed in big ways. Zoe was a widow. Simon and Kaylee were a couple. Jayne had nearly died, and in light of that he was different. Mal was different, too. It was harder to name just what about him had changed, but he was different.

And she was wearing a gun.

“Do you ever wonder if you’d be happy if your way had turned out the way you through it would when you were a child?” she asked.

Mal didn’t respond immediately. “I guess so,” he said. “Wouldn’t have been a war, for one thing, and that… and I’d be on Shadow, still, I suppose.”

“And I would be on Sihnon,” Inara said. “I would be House Priestess by now.”

Mal sighed loudly. Inara had no trouble reading his emotions this time: he was clearly annoyed. “Told you, ‘Nara, I ain’t getting into that right now,” he said.

“I’m not asking you to,” she said quickly. “I just… I can’t help thinking about how much things have changed.”

Mal smirked. “Let’s see. Got a crew half injured, no coin in the bank… don’t seem like much has changed to me.”

“I’m here,” Inara offered.

Mal didn’t have a response to that. Inara wasn’t surprise. She didn’t know quite what to make of it, either. It wasn’t as if she’d never held a gun before, or shot one. Quite the opposite. She’d had a client once who was had a fondness for pistols. He was on the executive board of a gun manufacturing company, in fact. He would take her to the range and show of his more exotic pistols. He insisted she shot all of them. She’d humored him because… well, it was what he liked. He got off on that feeling of power. It touched him, and he watched it to touch her to. In its own way, it had.

She smiled at the irony of it. So, not everything she’d learned from her clients turned out to be useless after all. That was good. It was good to know.

“What?” Mal asked her.

“Nothing,” Inara said. “I was just thinking about an old client of mine.”

“I see,” said Mal. Inara fought the urge to roll her eyes at his tone. She knew he was stressed, she knew that, but it was hard to have too much sympathy for him when she was going through her second midlife crisis, and at the age of twenty-nine, no less. Most people got to wait until they were at least forty before they started picking their lives apart. Inara had, essentially, gutted hers twice in less than five years. Less than three years, in fact.

She took a breath. The air of Jñāna, however harmful it might be to long term residents, felt crisp and cool going into Inara’s lungs, refreshing after weeks of breathing recycled air. “I don’t mean to provoke you Mal,” she said.

“I know,” he answered. “And I don’t mean to be… provokeable.”

“I know,” she answered.

~*~

When they returned Kaylee’s snow day was long over. Zoe and Jayne had retired to their bunks, worn out after the day’s activities. Kaylee and Simon had retired to their bunks, though rest was the furthest thing from their minds. River was in the kitchen, finishing a small supper and reading… something. When Mal and Inara entered she politely excused herself. They weren’t sure why. Impossible as it had once seemed, the girl was even odder now that she was saner.

For a moment, the two just stood there. Then, Mal excused himself and headed for his bunk.

~*~

He was on the verge of falling asleep when there was a loud knock at the door. Mal groaned, rolling over to look at the time. Ten thirty-five. Okay, not nearly as late as he thought it was, but late enough that he has a reasonable expectation of uninterrupted. It was probably River, he thought with a groan. She linked to do that sometimes, wake him up to talk about… Mal wasn’t sure. Usually he was groggy and River was talking around him, going on about science or… whatever the subject was that evening.

He quickly dressed and opened the bulkhead. To his surprise, it wasn’t River, it was Inara. “Get your coat,” she said quickly. “Boots too.”

Mal blinked. Yep, it certainly looked like Inara, but she was sounding like River. “What?” he asked her. Inara shook her head at him.

“Hurry up, or your miss it.”

And so Mal threw on his shoes and his coat and followed her towards the kitchen. To his surprise, she opened the hatch in the hallway and began climbing up. He followed her. He blinked when he emerged on the top of Serenity’s hull. Two folding chairs were set up on the hull – which was covered in at least three inches of snow, probably four, Mal wagered – both chairs surrounded by candles of all sorts of shapes and colors and… scents. She had to a bottle of wine – real wine, not Kaylee’s stuff – and two mugs laid out before them on a portion of oddly flattened snow. Which, of course, was the first thing Mal saw fit to comment on. “You rolled in it?”

She rolled her eyes. “I made a snow angel, Mal.”

“Why?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t know,” answered. “I was laying here just… thinking and I guess… I guess I felt childish. I don’t think I’ve made a snow angel since I was eleven years old.”

“Why were you…”

She answered his question before he could finish asking, pointing at the sky behind him. Mal turned around, a smile involuntarily gracing his lips as he took in the sight of it. Shimmering waves of pink and blue light were stretched across the horizon, their tips touching stars that stretched out for miles and miles, as far as the eye could see. It surrounded them, endless auroras dancing in the night. He turned to Inara, she was smiling as well. “Wine?” she asked. She chuckled at him when he didn’t answer and poured him a cup.

They sat down on the folding chairs and watched the stars.

They didn’t try to make idle conversation. Mal supposed the long trip to the drop site and back had gotten all that out of their system. Their contact had been their already when he arrived. He was an older gentlemen, easily sixty. He gave the money, had his boys unload the cargo, and they were on their way. Inara had been great. Mal had been… he didn’t know. Stressed, maybe was the word. She’d done most of the talking. She was funny and charming and… She had really taken care of him.

“Refill?” Inara asked as she picked up the bottle to fill up her cup. He shook his head, looking down at his own half empty cup. She put the bottle back on the ground, on her imprint of her snow angel. Mal noticed for the first time that she’d placed the chairs in the wings. He smiled at that. He looked at her. She was looking out at the stars, the light, creating a small, white cloud each time she exhaled. He was expecting her to look breathtaking, and she was, but… Inara’s hair was pulled back in a small ponytail at the base of her skull. Her features were relaxed, but tired. She wasn’t wearing any makeup or jewelry. And surprisingly, Mal found that he missed it on her.

“Are you okay?” he asked her.

She turned to him, raising her eyebrow. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?” She was smiling, teasing him.

Mal smiled back, but it didn’t hold. “I’m not sayin’ I don’t appreciate all this,” he said, gesturing to the wine, “but…”

“But what, Mal?” she asked. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“About as okay as I get,” he replied. “It was a good day.”

“Yes,” Inara said, “it was a good day.” She raised her cup. Mal, smiling, raised his too. The cupes clanked together and they both laughed a little, downing a sip of wine. “Do you need a refill now?” Inara asked. Mal nodded and she filled his cup.

“Where did you get this?” he asked.

“I had Sheydra mail me some of my things to Greenleaf,” she said. “When you and Simon were out making the medicine deal, I walked into town and picked them up. Nothing big. I had her send some clothes, some of my incense… and the wine. Because I thought, with everything, that we could use it.” She looked at the bottle. “I don’t know why I didn’t open it sooner. I guess it just wasn’t the right time.”

“Well, good… timing,” he said, taking another sip. They settled back into their chairs. Inara didn’t offer to refill his cup when she refilled hers. “You’re hittin’ those down pretty fast,” he commented.

“Maybe,” she said. “Maybe you’re just slow.”

“Nope,” Mal answered. “I ain’t once been accused of drinkin’ too slow, believe me. Now, too fast, on the other hand… might have happened once or twice.”

“Twice?” she repeated.

“Maybe a few times more than twice,” he admitted. He took a deep breath. The question Zoe had asked her earlier that morning invaded his thoughts without warning. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the view, or the job gone well. Maybe it was because he was tired. Or maybe, maybe it was what he had wanted all along. He was going to kiss her. It was a long time coming, really. He was going to turn to her, tell… tell her anything, everything, and then he would kiss her. He took a breath, readying himself, then turn to her and…

And tilted his head, pushing his lips together in concern. “Inara?” She turned to him, embarrassed, and quickly brushed the tear trails off her cheeks. She smiled. Maybe she thought he hadn’t seen. But he did. Mal saw them. Inara was crying. “Are you… are you okay?” he asked, bridging the gap between them to wipe one stray tear trail off her cheek.

“Yeah, I’m… I’m okay,” she said.

“You were crying,” he said.

“I just…” For a moment she tried to fight it. He saw the tension on her face, the effort to stop something she couldn’t. And then the tears fell down her cheeks, one after the other. She didn’t push them away. “I just… I was thinking about being drunk and how… I mean, I’ve been drunk, Mal, many times, but… but never like that.”

He didn’t understand. “Like what?” She started crying a little harder.

“I…” she took a breath. “I…” but she couldn’t. Mal sat their for a moment, not sure what to do as her light crying quickly escalated into sobs. And then slipped out of his chair onto the snow. He pulled her out of her chair and into his arms and her held her. He didn’t whisper in her ear because he didn’t know what to say. He just held her.

The spell didn’t last long. After a minute or two Inara’s breathing was almost normal, and while tears were still falling down her cheeks she wasn’t hysterical. Mal waited for her to say something, but she didn’t. Instead, she let him hold her. She put her head on his shoulder and sat there not moving, not speaking. Mal closed his eyes and rested his head on hers, drinking in the scent of her hair. He realized, suddenly, that he’d never been this close to her, that he’d never smelled her hair before. He’d done it so many times in his dreams that sometimes he woke up in the morning thinking he had. And now he was. He tightened his hold on her. She slid her arms around his waist, holding him too.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered after a while.

“It’s okay,” he whispered back.

“You must think—”

“I don’t think anything,” he said before he could finish. “I mean, I’m worried being that cryin’ ain’t very Inara-like, but I… its okay to cry sometimes.”

She sighed. “I’ve said that so many times.”

“Said what?” Mal asked.

“That it’s okay to cry.” She pulled away from him, wiping the tears off of her face. “You see, my clients they… it’s never just about sex. It’s about getting what you need, be it comfort, validation, excitement… And I was just… I just started thinking about how when I was with clients I couldn’t get… It sounds so silly, but I would drink a few glasses of whatever we were having… wine, champagne… and then I would… if we were in a restaurant I would tell him I was going to the bathroom and then I would talk to a waiter, explain that I couldn’t...” she laughed, “…that I needed him to bring me alcohol-free wine! When you’re drunk it’s harder to read your client and that’s…”

“It’s not professional,” Mal provided.

“It isn’t,” Inara agreed. “And you… what you said, it just made me think about how I’ve never really… I’ve always limited myself. I’ve never gotten drunk beyond a point that I could handle. I don’t think I… I don’t think I’ve ever even slurred my speech.”

Mal couldn’t help but smile. “It ain’t exactly a glamorous process. There are tons of nights I wish I could forget, and tons more I wish I could remember.”

“Yes,” Inara said, smiling back, “I know that getting piss drunk isn’t… glamorous, as you put it, but… but it is something I’ve never done, Mal. And then I got to thinking about all the other things I haven’t done. All the stupid things you’re supposed to do when you’re Kaylee or River’s age. And then I started thinking about the job today and I started wondering if I would ever go with you on another one. And then I thought about how if I stay, how…” she didn’t finish. Instead she sighed and turned toward the stars. After a moment, she turned back to him. “We should probably stand up,” she said. “It’s very cold out and we’re sitting in the snow.”

“No,” Mal said.

“No?” Inara asked.

“I gotta make a snow angel first,” he said. Inara looked at him like he had too heads, then burst into laughter.

“Was that supposed to be so funny?” she asked when she stopped.

“Maybe you’re drunk,” Mal suggest.

“Maybe,” Inara said. She started laughing again. Mal smiled at her, laughing hysterically, framed by the light of the stars. Mal couldn’t think of a time he’d ever seen her so freely joyful. Or so freely sad, for that matter. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m acting like a complete lunatic tonight.”

“A bit,” he said, “but to be fair you’re only doin’ a so-so job of it.”

“Only so-so?” Inara repeated. “Well, that just won’t do. If I’m going to be a lunatic, I should at least do a good job of it.”

“I guess,” Mal said. “Let’s see… you could… you could drug me, steal a shuttle…”

“I don’t think so,” Inara interrupted. “That’s already been done.”

“I see,” Mal said. “You want to be an original lunatic.” He shook his head. “Well, let’s see… this is going to be tough. River had lunatic covered for such a long time, I ain’t sure there’s much ground she left untouched…”

“I’ll think of something,” Inara said. “Are you going to make your snow angel or what?”

“When I’m ready,” Mal answered. “There’s no rush.”

“We really should go inside,” Inara pointed out. “We’re soaked. It’s freezing. We’re going to get sick, and then Simon’s going to complain about it. Kaylee, too.”

Mal shook his head. “I think you need more wine.” He reached for her cup, sitting pristinely next to her abandoned chair, and refilled it. Their fingers brushed as he handed her the cup. She smiled as she accepted it. She took a sip. Mal shook his head. “Come one, Inara. You can do better than that,” he said. She rolled her eyes then downed the entire cup. Mal clapped and cheered. The sound echoed against the stars. Inara laughed at him as he grabbed her cup and refilled it again.

“I don’t know, Mal…” she said as he handed it to her.

“Are you chicken?” he asked. She took a large sip in response.

“Now, what about your snow angel?” she asked.

“Why do you keep coming back to that?”

“Why do you keep spalling?”

Mal raised an eyebrow. “And what is spalling, exactly?” Inara burst out laughing. “You know what, I don’t wanna know,” Mal said, and she laughed even harder. He smiled pushing his chair and a few of her candles aside so that he could lie down in the snow. He extended his arms and his arms and his legs waving them back and forth in the snow, leaving and angel imprint. “There,” he said sitting up. “Happy now?”

“No,” Inara said.

“No?”

“We have the entire hull to chose from, and you have to make your snow angel right on top of my snow angel,” Inara said with mock-accusation. “You ruined it.”

“Did not,” he responded.

“Look at it, Mal,” she challenged. She had a point. Her snow angel now looked like it had a rather large, potentially cancerous growth coming out of its left wing. He shrugged, causing Inara to giggle even more. Mal smiled at her. Inara was a happy drunk. He pushed himself to his feet, then grabbed her wrists, pulling her up, too, wrapping his arms around her for a second when she lost her balance. “Sorry,” she said, steadying herself.

“That’s okay,” he said. He took her hand in his and started walking. “’Sides, you’re right. I ruined your snow angel. You know what that means?”

“What?” Inara asked.

“We gotta make new ones.” She laughed again. He led her to a spot that was, he suspected, right above the kitchen. He wondered if they’d be able to see the snow angels through the ceiling windows in the morning. The crew might ask questions. Not that it mattered. They could ask anything they wanted. They both fell backwards into the snow, waving their arms and legs like little kids. When they were finished they lay there, on the top of the ship, looking at each other under the stars.

Mal kissed her. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. She kissed him right back, pulling his tongue into her mouth with her lips, wrapping her arms around his body. Mal wasn’t sure how long it lasted. It wasn’t short, though. They made snow angels like they were kids and kissed like they were teenagers.

When it finally stopped Inara laid her head down on his arm and closed her eyes. He ran her fingers through her hair and realized that Inara had probably never kissed anymore like she’d kissed him just now, with so carelessly and with such need. It made him feel amazing, but just a little bit sad. Amazing because – because it was amazing, it was incredible, and they were lying in the snow underneath the aurora and the stars. But a little bit sad, realizing that she’d never done it before. He certainly had.

“You’re not falling asleep, are you?” he asked. She’d been quiet for a while.

“No,” she answered. She opened her eyes, propped herself on her elbow. “We both ruined the snow angels this time.”

Now it was Mal’s turn to laugh uncontrollably. “Yeah, I guess we did.” He sat up. “We should go inside. It’s cold.”

“Okay,” Inara said. “Help me up?” He got to his own feet and then helped her to hers. Not that she needed it, really. She was drunk, but she wasn’t stumbling quite yet.

“You know,” he said as they collected all of Inara’s candles and folded the chairs, “I think we got a jug of Kaylee’s wine in the kitchen.”

“That’s all right, Mal,” she said. “I don’t think I need anymore tonight.”

“That’s probably for the best,” he agreed. “How ‘bout I climb down first, an’ you hand all this stuff down to me?”

“I think I can do that,” Inara replied. “What are we going to do when we go inside?”

“I don’t know. Got any lunatic plans yet?”

“Sorry,” Inara said with a small laugh. “I was distracted.”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

They successfully got all of Inara’s things down the airlock, and then Inara climbed down, shutting it behind her. He knew that they should probably pick up the chairs and the candles and put them back to wherever it was that they went, but they didn’t. They took off their coats and draped them over chairs in the kitchen so they could dry. “We’re umm…” Inara said. “We’re still all wet.”

“We were rolling around in the snow,” Mal pointed out.

“We should change,” Inara said, “or we’ll end up getting sick.”

“I know,” said Mal. He leaned forward and kissed her again, covering his mouth with hers. “We should probably get to bed,” he said when he pulled away. “One of us is going to have to pilot the ship in the morning. Probably me.”

“We could have River do it,” Inara suggested.

Mal shook his head. “She isn’t ready. Not by herself, anyway.”

“I know,” Inara agreed. “I know.” She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into another kiss. She didn’t pull away when it ended. Instead, she looked up at him, looked into his eyes. Her gaze we so warm, honest, beautiful. “We’re… I mean…” she trailed off.

“What?” Mal prompted.

“Promise me,” she said, “that we’ll talk about this. I don’t want… I’m not saying things well tonight.” He smiled at her. It made her smile too. “It’s just, you and I, Mal, we’re guarded people. We don’t let others into our lives lightly or easily. This…” she took a heavy breath, “Sometimes, people like us ignore things like this. And I don’t want to ignore this, Mal. I want… I don’t know, but I don’t want to ignore this. So, I want you to promise me you won’t. Promise me.”

“I promise,” Mal said. “I promise you, Inara. I promise.”

She rewarded him with the warmest smile he’d ever seen her smile, kissed him, and headed to her shuttle. Mal stood there, watching her walk away. He could feel the silly grin on his face, a grin he just couldn’t wipe off. Snow angels. It had been a good night.

OoG Icons

2007-01-15T05:02:19Z

Some Out of Gad icons. Hope everyone likes them!

No hotlinking, credit please, etc.

Enjoy!

01. 02. 03. 04.
05. 06. 07. 08.
09. 10. 11. 12.
13. 14. 15. 16.

Fic List!

2007-01-09T18:50:59Z

Since I am a huge copy-cat (and it makes me feel surprisingly productive): Fic List '06!

Over the Hills and Far Away (at fff.net)
Chapter One
Chapter Twe
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eigtheeen
Chapter Nineteen

Short Standalones:
Tracing Scars
Heat
Comfort
Don't Leave Me (1/2)
Never Left (2/2)
Spill
Drink of Choice
How He Dies
Edit: How could I have forgotten?
Definition of Something Different/a>
Lightening

VFF (PDF files):
2x04 "Fireworks", co-writer (acts 3 and 4)
2x05 "Monsters", co-writer (basically, I wrote the first draft, and then it was refined, edited, etc.)
2x11 "Lilac", writer (its mine!)
2x13 "The Breathing", co-writer (Inara scenes)

Seeing it all together, I was totally less lazy than I thought. :-)

Voyager

2006-12-20T07:59:44Z

So, Spike is airing episodes of Star Trek: Voyager this week. I am reminded of how much I loved that show, and how much I hated that show. *shakes fist* That show!

Voyager had the coolest premise of any Trek show, hands down. I mean, think about it? While on a mission to capture a rebel vessel, both vessels are flung half-way across the galaxy. Faced with a seventy-five year journey home, the crews are forced to combine forces as they begin their perilous journey home.

Also, Captain Kathryn Janeway.

Think about how cool that could have been. The premise of this show has all the things I love most about BSG and Firefly in it. Tension between groups of people who believe two very different things in the form of Starfleet vs. Marquios, the tragedy of having only yourself to rely on, limited resourses... it could have been cool.

But it just never was. The dialogue was horrible. But midway through the series, half of the characters were completely forgotten about.

*sigh* And it really did have such interesting idea, you know?

Oh well, it is the show of my childhood. I watched the pilot when I was eight, and tuned in every week until it ended when I was thirteen. I have not seen an episode since until this week, but I have almost every plot committed to memory. I was young. I didn't know it wasn't good. I loved that fucking show. It makes me so sad watching it now, but you know I'm recording it. Thursday is going to be awesome. It has two of the three best two parters: Year of Hell 1 & 2 and Killing Game 1 & 2, and the single best standalone episode the show produced, One. All in a row. Friday, they are airing Relativity, which was one of the most fun episodes of the series.

I can't believe that they aren't airing Equinox 1 & 2. Those were the most interesting episodes of the series. Not much better executed than any other episode, but oh well. That's another thing that pisses me off. They had such a good cast. Robert Picardo. Jeri Ryan. Kate Mulgrew. Anyway, the idea was that Voyager encounters another ship, the Equinox, that was also stranded in the Delta Quadrant, even further away then Voyager. But they found this alien race in another dimension (it is Voyager) that can be killed and used a super fuel. So, they are killing these aliens. And the aliens are attacking them in return. Janeway is on a moral high horse ("that's not right!" etc, etc), but... you know, it is interesting. What would you do if you were so, so far away?

Oh, well. Tomorrow, they are showing Future's End 1 & 2. It's the two-parted where they go back to 1996, guest staring Ed Beagley jr. And later, Scorpian 1 & 2, which features the only memorable line Chakotay ever uttered. I will have it on in the background as I do Holiday cleaning.

Happy Thanksgiving

2006-11-22T23:44:51Z

Well, I am leaving to go home soon, so early happy thanksgiving to all Americans on the flist, and happy nonholiday day to everyone else! I know, I owe lots of people comments... I just haven't been responding to people's blogs lately or reviewing fics (sorry Goldy!), but I will get to it eventually, I swear... the wee hours of Friday night/Saturday morning most likely.