and the devil said, come on and walk with me

picfor1000 fic fill - 'mal hombre' / tombstone / doc holliday & wyatt earp

moofoot — Thu, 24 Jan 2013 21:03:51 GMT

Written for slodwick's annual picfor1000 fic writing challenge, where participants are given a photo as inspiration and tasked with writing 1000 words of fiction about that photo.

This year I dabbled in one of my lesser-written fandoms. Please enjoy and I'd love to know what you think!

Title: Mal Hombre
Fandom: Tombstone (1993)
Characters: Doc Holliday & Wyatt Earp
Words/rating: 1000 / PG with slight swearing.
PROMPT PHOTO: LINK
Summary: Doc Holliday has never been in habit of naming his horses, but one horse is about to change that.

He'd never been in the habit of naming his horses, and didn't see the point in such sentimental matters.

A horse was just a horse; a method of transport, a mouth to feed, and more often than not (in his experiences) a source of irritation and frustration when the animal refused to cooperate for one reason or another. He preferred alternative methods of travel whenever possible, choosing to traverse the territories by train, steamboat, or even a dust-ridden ride in a stagecoach. Travel on horseback was slow, uncomfortable, dirty, and oftentimes the hazards that one faced would greatly outweigh any of the potential benefits of the mode of transport - not that Holliday would ever admit that there were advantages, of course.

But it wasn't as if one could simply hire a coach to criss-cross the deserts of Arizona territory on a whim, and the Cowboys certainly weren't going to stick to the well-traveled trails and tracks of modernized convenience just for his sake.

Wyatt was in charge of securing the animals; he'd not kept a horse in Tombstone since shortly after he'd arrived in the silver town, not having any desire to pay the men at the livery to feed and house the creature, as well as not having any reason to keep one on hand. If trouble came to find him, he'd certainly not run away from it.

Sheltered in the shade of the porch in front of the sheriff's office, Doc wiped his forehead with his handkerchief, removing the beads of sweat from his skin as he sat on the bench nearest the doorway. The sun was already oppressively bright for half-past nine, and the walk from his rooms at McFly's boarding house had left his lungs heaving for oxygen and his body trembling with exertion.

(Internally, he wondered how in the world he would last on this ride to round up the remaining Cowboys if he could hardly take a stroll down Allen Street without ending up winded - but that wasn't a thought he dared to contemplate, not with Ringo and Brocius and their other bastard friends out there still breathing and above ground.

Besides, it had been said many times before that John Henry Holliday would most definitely die with his boots on, and if a vendetta ride with his best - and likely only - friend was the lead-up to his demise, then he'd accept that.)

Wyatt arrived at ten-fifteen, by his estimation, leading a small group of horses behind him.

Doc surveyed the prospective mounts and found himself relatively unimpressed by the options presented. "Did you insist on scraping the bottom of the barrel, Wyatt?" He inquired, rising slowly to his aching feet.

"I made sure to ask Crabtree for some particularly ugly ones, just for you."

"I'm touched."

Smirking, Wyatt dismounted and tied the other horses beside his own on the post. "They're healthy, all right?"

"I do believe this one has fleas, Wyatt."

"I didn't take you for a veterinarian, Doc." Wyatt shoved a bag into Holliday's chest as he walked past, pausing only briefly as he headed into the office. "Stopped and got you some provisions as well. You're welcome."

"I packed," Holliday protested, hands closing around the canvas satchel that had been thrust upon him. As Wyatt's footsteps echoed into the distance, Doc undid the straps and opened the bag, surveying the contents - a healthy-sized bottle of laudanum, as well as a pint of whiskey and two packets of rolled cigarettes. His eyes narrowed slightly after identifying the contents, and he turned smartly on his heel, making his way to follow his friend inside.

Wyatt stood behind the desk, organizing a few sheets of paper into neat piles, and glanced up as Holliday entered. "Why the look?"

Doc held up the bag. "Either you have suddenly decided that my maladies require a rather unorthodox method of treatment, or you're attempting to win my favor for a reason I have yet to determine."

"I'd never consider bribing your loyalty," Wyatt lied. (Though they both knew it was a lie, and both knew it wasn't necessary.) "Consider it a gift."

"Mmmhmm." Doc glanced over his shoulder at the horses tied out on the rail. "Which one is mine?"

And there was the hesitation on Wyatt's face. Doc grinned, a wicked expression that might have unnerved any other man but the one in front of him. Wyatt Earp was rarely rattled, and it would take more than his friend to do so.

"The dun," Wyatt replied. "You should go get to know him, before we ride out."

"I didn't think introductions were usually necessary, for this sort of endeavor."

"They usually aren't," Wyatt admitted. "But Jack informed me that you'd be smart to make friends before tryin' to ask for any favors."

"That tends to be my approach with women, Wyatt. Not my horses."

"This is a special horse."

"Define 'special'."

"Well, as Jack put it," Wyatt finished with the papers on the desk and looked up. "He's a real 'mal hombre' at times."

"Wonderful," Holliday rolled his eyes towards the ceiling and turned to move back out onto the porch. "I'm sure we'll get along splendidly." he called over his shoulder.

The animal in question was a fine-enough looking horse, if he had to admit to it; a solid frame was covered by a well-defined musculature, and despite the possibility of it having fleas, the coat was shiny and eyes bright.

"That's one of the reasons I picked it for you, actually," Wyatt commented from the doorway where he leaned, watching Holliday extend his hand to the horse for inspection.

"Oh?"

"I asked Crabtree for a horse befitting a cranky son-of-a-bitch like yourself, and he said he had just the one."

"My word, Wyatt. Your attempts at flattery simply slay me." Doc drawled, smirk hidden. His focus returned to the horse; perhaps he'd name this one.

"Hombre," he tested. The horse pinned his ears back, and Holliday simply grinned wider. It would do nicely.

This entry was posted at http://synchronicity2.dreamwidth.org/721805.html - with comments at that post. Please comment wherever you'd prefer!

moofoot — Mon, 26 Dec 2011 06:20:18 GMT

So I got my Yuletide fic and it is AMAAAAAZING:

build me a castle of memories just to have somewhere to go - link @ ao3

It's a Justified piece. Summary is simple: Five times Helen Givens saved Raylan.

And good god, you guys. YOU GUYS GO READ IT, READ IT NOW.

*flaily hands of delight*

Christmas itself was nice. Slept in, made food, read Yuletide, opened presents. Went over to M's house for eating of food and romping of dogs. Now we're home and everyone is sleepy and bed will be happening shortly, but I wanted to bounce on to wish everyone a belated happy holiday of their choosing, and to flail about my Yuletide because it is AMAZING.

DEAR YULETIDE WRITER

moofoot — Thu, 17 Nov 2011 00:50:04 GMT

Hello, Yuletide Writer!

I am so happy to have someone as awesome as you writing for me this happy holiday season! Because clearly, you ARE awesome, as you've agreed to participate in this wonderful fiction exchange, so I am already happy and excited for what treasure will be coming my way on Christmas morning.

I'm very easy to please, so don't fret. I like all types of fic, don't have many squicks, and enjoy reading all sorts of scenarios and pieces. I enjoy good characterization, great dialogue, and action/adventure in my fics -- though some of my favorite pieces have been simply introspection from a single character's perspective of one snapshotted scene. I don't mind violence (as long as it's justified for the scene/situation -- gratuitous headstomping for the sake of bloodshed, not so much) and I certainly don't mind grey areas.

I tend to fall on the het/gen side these days, but I have written, read, and enjoyed slashfic in my time. I don't mind smut, though I am not so much on the dub-con/kink/PWP train.

I love worldbuilding and description, and badassery. But mostly, I am very, very easy to please, so feel free to take any inspiration and run with it.

Justified
Raylan Givens, Helen Givens

All I ask with these two is that you don't pair them up in a romantic/smutty scenario, because that is just Not Right. I would love to see any scene with Raylan and Helen that builds their relationship as family, especially since his aunt was so involved in his upbringing. Or a piece in which Raylan flashes back on a moment from his childhood, or contemplates their relationship at her gravesite after she's killed.

24
Jack Bauer

I left this pretty open, because when it comes to Jack Bauer, I am very easy to please. Character study, action scene, interrogation room conversation, whatever you want to write involving the Bauer, I will be thrilled with.

I love pre-canon fic with him in his Delta days, or canon fic to fill in the gaps, or even just teeny fragments of his very bad days strung together.

I <3 Jack Bauer. The End.

Hellblazer
John Constantine

Again, I left this pretty open to interpretation because I really will be happy with anything that might get written involving John. Be it Movieverse or Comicsverse, I don't have true preference (though I am more familiar with the movieverse, but don't let that make a vote in either direction). I love the snarky bastard and I would love to see some demon-battling action! Bonus points for chain-smoking while smiting the unholy.

So really, dear writer...just have fun and write! I am happily looking forward to whatever you decide to come up with, and I'm not a picky person, so please enjoy the process that is Yuletide and have a happy holiday!

Already squeeing with glee,
moofoot, who is pwrofbauer on AO3

photo post -- natural bridge state resort park

moofoot — Mon, 07 Nov 2011 03:40:51 GMT

So today, I decided that I was going to go hiking, since it was the first day off I've had in a long time that has been nice weather. After a bit of research, I decided on Natural Bridge State ~~Resort~~ Park (I don't think it counts as a resort in the winter -- the pool is closed!) as my destination. And was promptly reminded, after the leisurely stroll from the parking lot to the trailhead was over (and the WHY HELLO THERE, UPHILL STAIRMASTER SWITCHBACKS OF DOOM portion began) that I have not been hiking lately. Give me all the oxygen tanks and a sherpa, please.

But it was worth it. I made it to the top, and since I knew there was no higher I could go (just out in a few spur trails on the ridgeline) I explored quite a bit. It was so pretty. I took a bunch of photos, but these are my favorites!

10 pictures, none bigger than 800x600. Enjoy!

THE ARCH! There are no photos of the hike up, because I was too friggin tired to deal with the camera, but this was the view that I got when I came around the bend of trees. So worth it, especially with the light streaming through.

And you can actually go climb on top of the arch! Views from the top:

Looking down at the shadow the arch was casting:

And then it was a short hike to an observation point a little under a half mile away, which had a wonderful view:

And then I hiked back to the arch (after some more side adventures) and took a few more shots:

Here's a shot of the top of the arch:

On the hike down, on the 'Battleship Rock' trail, named for the huge soaring sandstone cliffs that surrounded you as you went down off the ridge into the hollow, some trees:

All in all, it was a fantastic afternoon. And after just under 4 miles of hiking, I am going to call this an EARLY night.

Writer's Block: LJ Pumpkin Carvageddon contest!

moofoot — Mon, 31 Oct 2011 22:27:11 GMT

My, what sharp teeth you have...

(reposting, as for some reason my first one did not show up.)

Writer's Block: LJ Pumpkin Carvageddon contest!

moofoot — Mon, 31 Oct 2011 15:29:52 GMT

My, what sharp teeth you have...

Photo post -- Scenes from the last year.

moofoot — Thu, 27 Oct 2011 02:41:32 GMT

This is just a collection of photos I've taken over the last year here in Kentucky. They are some of my favorite shots, out of all the ones I've done so far.

Slightly image heavy (but nothing bigger than 800x600) so it may take a minute on a slower browser to load. 10 images. Hope you enjoy!

Old Friends Farm for Retired Thoroughbreds -- Georgetown, KY

Hwy 52 -- Garrard County, KY

Lexington Cemetery -- Lexington, KY

Sunset off our back porch -- Lexington, KY

Ashland, the Henry Clay Estate -- Lexington, KY

American Basswood certified to have been alive during signing of US Constitution, 1787

Lexington Cemetery -- Lexington, KY

new layout & profile -- justified v 1.0

moofoot — Wed, 26 Oct 2011 04:58:17 GMT

I was going to just stick the Justified pretty stuff in my profile page and use a neat image I made using a photo I took over the weekend, but I couldn't handle not having the two pieces match and coordinate, so I tossed up a Justified themed header image, too.

I'm on a Timothy Olyphant kick right now, so sue me.

Real update of substance to come later. For now, it's bedtime.

WE HAS A KAREN

moofoot — Fri, 21 Oct 2011 04:11:44 GMT

:D :D :D

That is all.

I AM TAKING ICON REQUESTS

moofoot — Fri, 22 Jul 2011 04:33:00 GMT

STOP THE PRESSES.

I AM TAKING ICON REQUESTS. I fully intend to spend tomorrow on the couch, watching Le Tour de France Stage 19, and will need something to do in between shouting wildly at the screen at Andy Schleck (I kind of love him, okay) and entertaining the poodle.

SO.

ICONS.

I will take:

IMAGES, which you would like me to icon.
QUOTES, that shall be made into text icons.
SUGGESTIONS, for things that I should iconify.

And cookies. I do love cookies.

Also, Andy Schleck:

(Oh, Andy. I'll make it all better, promise.)

[fic] untitled, jack bauer/james bond, possibly nsfw

moofoot — Fri, 08 Jul 2011 03:35:55 GMT

Here's an untitled ficlet piece, a snippet of a scene, and it's late (sorry!) birthday present for the ever wonderful kcountess!

Jack Bauer / James Bond, adult content (really just the mention of said content, nothing actually scandalous, but there is some language and themes!), in an established sort of AUverse we've written fics in before. 1142 words.

I LOVE YOU, KAREN.

He had known Jack would protest the choice of champagne over whiskey, but he'd made up for it (he hoped, anyhow) by not just choosing any old bottle off the rack. James had ordered up a bottle of Krug 1996 Clos du Mesnil to the room while Jack was busy showering off the grit and grime of their earlier escapades.

(They'd had to pay a visit to an old friend of his, and settle a debt.)

James glances at his fingernails as he listens to the sound of hissing water seeping through the closed -- and likely locked -- door a few feet from the table. He's half-tempted to pop the cork on the bottle before Jack gets out of the shower, but he knows that the other man rarely takes more than ten minutes to get clean.

Even after the longest days.

Or nights.

Seven and a half minutes into Jack's shower, James moves to the counter near the minifridge and busies himself with rinsing out the pair of tumblers he intends for them to drink out of, taking care to remove all the possible dust or soap residue from the glass.

(They had sent up two crystal flutes with the ice bucket and bottle; he won't touch the stemware the entire stay. It's not that he doesn't trust the staff here -- he'd just prefer to be careful, especially when Jack's already almost died once before in his presence.)

Tonight wasn't that bad, he thinks, drying the glasses and setting them aside. We didn't even have to shoot anyone.

He's pouring the first of the two glasses as the unofficial timer in his head rolls past ten minutes.

And as if on cue, the lock on the bathroom door turns as Jack emerges from the still-steamy room, clad in nothing more than a towel wrapped firmly around his waist.

James smirks. "I wasn't aware that I'd ordered the entertainment along with the beverage cart."

"One bottle of 'champagne'," Jack retorts, "Is not 'the beverage cart'." Even though he knows that Bond has impeccable taste when it comes to his alcohol, he can't help but give the other man hell for it as often as possible.

"Oh, shut up and have a drink," James passes over the second tumbler.

"Someone's cranky this evening." Jack smiles (smirks) as he accepts the glass, sniffing at the fizzy wine with a look of displeasure. "You're acting like you've had such a hard day at the office."

James doesn't bother to dignify that with an actual response, and merely flips his friend the 'bird' before retreating into the bathroom himself. He doesn't intend to shower, but as soon as he strips off his button-down and his undershirt, he realizes that he, quite frankly, stinks.

"I'll just be a moment," he calls, before nudging the door closed.

"Take your time," Jack responds, lifting the glass to his lips. "I've got plenty of champagne to keep me company."

Through the crack in the door, Jack can make out a muttered curse and a hint of laughter before the sound of the taps being turned on drowns out his ability to comprehend anything else James might be saying.

Six minutes later, James turns off the shower and leans himself against the wall, trying to ignore the headache that is threatening against the back of his closed eyelids.

"You gonna let me drink all of this by myself?" Jack asks, laughing under his breath as he pours himself a second glass.

"Absolutely not," James clucks his tongue under his breath as he steps out of the room. "If I didn't know better, Bauer, I'd be tempted to call you a lush."

"Fucker."

"Bastard."

Jack laughs as he hands James his glass -- his eyes dropping to the other man's waist. "I should have used both the towels."

"You certainly used all the hot water, so I don't see why you didn't," James retorts, accepting the glass and immediately drinking half the contents in a pair of swallows.

Jack lifts an eyebrow. He'd have thought James would savor the first sip, at least.

Noticing the look he's getting, Bond motions at his skull. "Headache."

"Getting hit in the face will do that to you. How's your chin feel, anyway," Jack cautiously reaches to brush his fingertips over the reddened skin on the right side of James' jawline, recalling the stiff right hook the man had taken just a few hours earlier.

"Better," James doesn't flinch away -- or make any effort to move, really.

"Good." Jack sips from his glass, then glances towards the couch, making an executive decision in the amount of time it takes him to pluck the bottle of champagne from the ice. "C'mere," he nods his head towards the piece of furniture. "If you're paying for the couch, you might as well sit on it."

"I'm likely to fall asleep in your lap," James warns.

Shrugging, Jack follows the other man to the couch and sits beside him. "There wouldn't be anything wrong with that."

"You'd bitch about my non-existent snoring come dawn and you know it."

"Well, you do."

"I do not." James flops down on the couch, carefully as to not spill his drink. "Much."

"Whatever, spyboy."

Groaning, James buries his head in Jack's shoulder. "I told you to never call me that again, Jack."

"Just like I told you not to call me...hmm...what was it? Oh, right," Jack narrows his eyes (he's not upset) and lifts his glass to his mouth. "Blondie."

Muffled: "Well, you are, you know."

Reaching over, Jack ruffles James' still-damp hair. "So're you."

"Yes," James glances up. "But I'm not a California beach-rat."

"I am not a beach-rat."

"You wanted to teach me how to surf!"

"And that makes me a beach rat?"

"Yes."

Jack huffs a laugh under his breath, before leaning to press his lips against the other man's mouth. "You are fucking ridiculous sometimes, you know that Bond?" He mutters, smirking a bit. "Fucking ridiculous."

"I am," James grins. "And a ridiculously good fuck, or so I'm told."

"Mmmm, you'll have to let me be the judge of that."

"Gladly," James returns the kiss. "But first, I intend to consume this entire bottle of vintage champagne," he pronounces the word with the earlier 'disgust' that Jack had. "And then I intend to celebrate not getting my head bashed in with a tire iron."

Jack laughs, this time louder. "Now that is something that I can toast to."

[filled fic request] -- a ridiculous man and three dogs

moofoot — Mon, 13 Dec 2010 02:40:22 GMT

title: a ridiculous man and three dogs
rating: pg
fandoms: 24 redemption / avatar ; milliways verse post-canons
characters: carl benton / trudy chacon
spoilers: for the ends of both canons, with a possible au!twist if we ever get to that point in milliways gameplay?
wordcount: 968
disclaimer: i don’t own even a piece of it so don’t sue me please
notes: written for ashen_key, as part of my holiday fic requests; she wanted carl and trudy post-canons, with puppies and a house somewhere.

She can hear him singing in the kitchen when she opens the front door, so she makes sure to shut it as quiet as she can in an effort to sneak into the house without him noticing. She knows it won’t work; between his observation skills and the fact that he likely heard her car pull into the driveway, the ruse is already up.

But that doesn’t stop her from quietly moving through the hallway, or from grinning as his voice filters over the music he’s listening to.

She almost makes it into the room without being detected -- but suddenly there is a loud skittering sound, as three dogs come rounding the corner and slide across the tile. (The amount of nails on eleven paws -- Luke only has three legs -- makes an absolute racket, and as soon as the canines spot their female master, they’re barking and jostling for attention with enough earnest that she can’t help but laugh.)

"Easy, boys, easy--"

"They’ve missed you," Carl calls over the music; after another second, Bob Marley’s 'Punky Reggae Party' quiets to background noise instead of center stage. "How bad was the market?"

“Not too bad,” Trudy hoists the fabric bag on her shoulder as she works to free herself from the pile of mutts. “They had a sale on bananas so I picked up a bunch. Luke, honey, down--”

“Luke,” Carl’s voice grows louder as he steps around the corner. “Off, c’mon now.”

The overexcited Rottweiler mix backs down (shaking his entire back end -- the combination of a missing back leg and a nub for a tail causes any wagging motion to be transferred to his entire body) and he glances from Carl to Trudy, tongue lolling as he practically grins.

Patches and Valkyrie (an aptly named scruffy terrier mix and a bat-eared Chihuahua, respectively) know to keep out of the way of the larger dog, especially when mom comes home. They also know that if Trudy makes it all the way into the kitchen, there will be treats for everyone, and that is a very, very good reason to only slightly impede her progress.

Once she’s clear of the dogs and within range of Carl’s arms, she makes like she’s going to slip into his grasp for a hug.

But instead of hugging him, she hands over the shopping bag and grins. “Thank you, honey.”

He steals a kiss for his trouble (not like it’s any at all) before moving back into the kitchen with the groceries, while she makes a beeline for the cat-shaped ‘cookie jar’ on the counter beside the iPod dock. She’s instantly surrounded once again by excited canines, her every move being watched by three pairs of bright brown eyes.

“Anyone else who was in here would think that we were starvin’ ‘em,” Carl retorts, shaking his head at the sight of their dogs making fools of themselves. “If a neighbor sees that through a window we’ll have PETA at the doorstep in a few days, just you wait.”

Trudy snickers under her breath and then shoos the dogs away after the treats have been passed out, waiting until they’ve all headed for the living room (likely on the hunt for another fleece toy to maim) before she moves towards Carl. However, this time she does slip into his arms, sliding her hands into his back pockets. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too,” he replies, smiling at her.

She presses a kiss against the more-salt-than-pepper scruff that he’s sporting on his chin, then nuzzles lightly into his neck, closing her eyes. She can feel him leaning against her (there’s a little more pressure from his ‘bad’ side, as he takes weight off of his right leg to ease the strain on his hip) but she doesn’t say a word about it.

“You want to know what’s for dinner?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she glances up at him and gives him an honest, easy smile. “It smells amazing, whatever it is.”

“And you call me the flatterer.” Carl glances towards the living room when the sound of manic squeaky-toy destruction abruptly halts.

Trudy also turns her head. “That can’t be good.” Though, without an answering crash, thud, or bark? She’s not that worried.

“Probably not,” Carl agrees, before he steps back. “I’ve got to stir the soup. You want to see what they’re getting up to?”

“Sure,” she rolls her eyes at him (though the gesture isn’t negative -- she’s only teasing) and shakes her head. “Always making me the bad guy.”

“You’ll just bribe them off with treats again later after dinner,” he points out.

“Not always.”

Carl just shoots her a look and a smirk as he turns towards the stovetop, and Trudy takes that opportunity to stick her tongue out at the back of his head before she heads for the living room.

“I saw that,” he calls.

“Saw what?”

“You.”

Trudy laughs as she kneels down on the floor to pick up the pieces of fluff that have been shredded and strewn across the hardwood. “You saw nothing, sweetheart.”

“Right,” he drawls, causing her to laugh again as the volume of the music rises once again -- drowning out any attempt she might make at a protest -- and he launches into a karaoke version of ‘Three Little Birds’.

“Ridiculous man,” she mutters, tucking a fistful of stuffing into her other hand. “You hear that, boys? Ridiculous man, your daddy is.”

And based on the quizzical looks the three dogs are giving the sounds coming from the kitchen, it’s pretty obvious that they agree.

holiday fic requests

moofoot — Tue, 07 Dec 2010 06:21:59 GMT

And, on a less soul-searching subject than my previous post:

HOLIDAY FIC REQUESTS

Now, I'm not doing these advent style (as I don't know how busy work may get) and I reserve the right to take all the way up until New Year's to get them done, but feel free to request a little something from me and I'll stuff your virtual fic-stocking with a goodie or two or three.

Fandoms include the obvious ones from Milliways and the ones I've written for before (Young Guns, 24, Skellig, Harry Potter, James Bond (movies), Star Wars, Jonah Hex (movie), The Dark Knight, 3:10 to Yuma) but if you've got a super special request (or a M'ways crossover) I'll try my best.

I'm not promising novels, either. Just a little bit of delight. Give me characters or pairings or a line/lyric or let me have free rein, anything goes.

an open poll

moofoot — Tue, 28 Sep 2010 23:24:15 GMT

So I suppose the question is as follows:

What could I possibly offer to do for people in order to earn some cash?

Leave comments below.

the vgt omnivore's hundred

moofoot — Sun, 18 Jul 2010 00:12:57 GMT

1) Copy this list into your blog or journal, including these instructions.
2) Bold all the items you've eaten.
3) Cross out any items that you would never consider eating.

The VGT Omnivore's Hundred:
01. Venison
02. Nettle tea
<>03. Huevos rancheros</b>
04. Steak tartare
05. Crocodile
06. Black pudding
07. Cheese fondue
08. Carp
09. Borscht
10. Baba ghanoush
11. Calamari
12. Pho
13. PB&J sandwich
14. Aloo gobi
15. Hot dog from a street cart
16. Epoisses
17. Black truffle
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes
19. Steamed pork buns
20. Pistachio ice cream
21. Heirloom tomatoes
22. Fresh wild berries
23. Foie gras
24. Rice and beans
25. Brawn, or head cheese
26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper
27. Dulce de leche
28. Oysters
29. Baklava
30. Bagna cauda
31. Wasabi peas
32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl
33. Salted lassi
34. Sauerkraut
35. Root beer float
36. Cognac with a fat cigar
37. Clotted cream tea
38. Vodka jelly/Jell-O
39. Gumbo
40. Oxtail
41. Curried goat
42. Whole insects covered in chocolate
43. Phaal
44. Goat's milk
45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth $120 or more
46. Fugu
47. Chicken tikka masala
48. Eel
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut Dammit, now I'm craving one. ~~Or six.~~
50. Sea urchin
51. Prickly pear
52. Umeboshi
53. Abalone
54. Paneer
55. McDonald's Big Mac Meal
56. Spaetzle
57. Dirty gin martini
58. Beer above 8% ABV
59. Poutine
60. Carob chips
61. S'mores
~~62. Sweetbreads~~ NO THANKS.
63. Kaolin
64. Currywurst
65. Durian
66. Frogs' Legs
67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake
68. Haggis
69. Fried plantain
70. Chitterlings, or andouillette
71. Gazpacho
72. Caviar and blini
73. Louche absinthe
74. Gjetost, or brunost
75. Roadkill
76. Baijiu
77. Hostess Fruit Pie
78. Snail
79. Lapsang souchong
80. Bellini
81. Tom yum
82. Eggs Benedict
83. Pocky
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant
85. Kobe beef
86. Hare
87. Goulash
88. Flowers
89. Horse
90. Criollo chocolate
91. Spam
92. Soft shell crab
93. Rose harissa
94. Catfish
95. Mole poblano
96. Bagel and lox
97. Lobster Thermidor
98. Polenta
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee
100. Snake

30 day music meme master post

moofoot — Sun, 11 Jul 2010 20:14:47 GMT

* Day 01 — Your favorite song
* Day 02 — Your least favorite song
* Day 03 — A song that makes you happy
* Day 04 — A song that makes you sad
* Day 05 — A song that reminds you of someone
* Day 06 — A song that reminds of you of somewhere
* Day 07 — A song that reminds you of a certain event
* Day 08 — A song that you know all the words to
* Day 09 — A song that you can dance to
* Day 10 — A song that makes you fall asleep
* Day 11 — A song from your favorite band
* Day 12 — A song from a band you hate
* Day 13 — A song that is a guilty pleasure
* Day 14 — A song that no one would expect you to love
* Day 15 — A song that describes you
* Day 16 — A song that you used to love but now hate
* Day 17 — A song that you hear often on the radio
* Day 18 — A song that you wish you heard on the radio
* Day 19 — A song from your favorite album
* Day 20 — A song that you listen to when you’re angry
* Day 21 — A song that you listen to when you’re happy
* Day 22 — A song that you listen to when you’re sad
* Day 23 — A song that you want to play at your wedding
* Day 24 — A song that you want to play at your funeral
* Day 25 — A song that makes you laugh
* Day 26 — A song that you can play on an instrument
* Day 27 — A song that you wish you could play
* Day 28 — A song that makes you feel guilty
* Day 29 — A song from your childhood
* Day 30 — Your favorite song at this time last year

moofoot — Tue, 08 Jun 2010 02:55:06 GMT

So, um. Yeah.

I made it to Denver!

Annnnd, then it exploded.

For the record, it was not my fault. Sweeney, Aspen, and myself were situated at a bar with an excellent view of the street -- when suddenly the power went out. I glanced out the window to see a towering fireball roll up into the sky, followed by thick black smoke that plumed up like mad.

Since there was nothing to do but sit and wait, we used the combined power of smartphones to deduce where the smoke was coming from. Thankfully it was just a substation (even though there's power affected 2/3 the way to Boulder, so Sweeney says) and there's only been one reported injury so far.

We are all safe (even though there was a solid loss of power here at the house) and we've got net and power and later, we'll have pie. But sheesh. Welcome to Denver.

alphabet meme!

moofoot — Mon, 31 May 2010 02:28:53 GMT

Claim a letter based on the prompt and give me a character. I'll write you a drabblething/ficlet/whathaveyou. Gonna stick with my fandoms and Milliways and rp group verses for this one to try to keep my brain. These will probably be SHORT little snippets. (Also, I am having urges to write 24 fic. Brain oh brain.)

A
B
C
D
E - chanter_greenie - Sariel & Doc
F
G
H - sardonicynic - Kim Bauer - "Hero"
I
J
K - kcountess - Jack, Carl and Renee
L - wiccabuffy - Renee or Renee/Jack
M
N
O - mmexlibris - Olga & Skellig - "Owl"
P - genarti - Jack and River
Q - ceitfianna - Tiwa-Carl - "Quilt"
R
S
T
U
V
W
X
Y
Z - ashen_key - Trudy/Carl - "Zone"

Ask away! I am going to go unpack, and grab a shower, and clean my room up a bit in an effort to wake my brain up from a nap. I love naps! I just don't love what they do to me post-nap. One more day of work tomorrow, then WEEKEND.

my smartz, let me show u them

moofoot — Sun, 16 May 2010 05:28:44 GMT

I AM SO DAMN PROUD OF MY BABYGIRL.

Zapper Gun Mod, Part #2

moofoot — Thu, 01 Apr 2010 20:46:39 GMT

Today is painting day!

Here's what I've got so far (the copper and brass colors on the barrel and body of the gun) and I'm going to paint up the grip and the sights today too -- I just need these parts to dry so I can cut another hole into that box and stick the gun into it a different way.

(thebattycakes? This box is amazing, btw. XD)

Once I've got the base done I'll work on polishing it and adding on the additional details, but today is just paint day. And possibly tinkering with copper bits day, but we'll see.

Pictures:

prompt me

moofoot — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 04:39:09 GMT

Working on my piece for the help_haiti auction, but figured I'd offer some drabbles too, for the hell of it. You guys know what I write, and who I write, what pups I play, etc. I'll write it if you ask for it. Annnnnnd, go.

this about sums up my workday, everyday

moofoot — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 04:25:47 GMT

CAPTION THIS:

moofoot — Sun, 24 Jan 2010 02:50:11 GMT

24 hours to go

moofoot — Mon, 18 Jan 2010 04:17:25 GMT

DO NOT SPOIL ME FOR 24. I AM NOT WATCHING IT UNTIL TOMORROW NIGHT.

Mom is in a vicodin haze in bed and I am cleaning like no tomorrow. So until tomorrow I must wait for my dose of Jack action. It's okay, though...I am in a cleaning mood and want to Get Things Done tonight. Drooling over Kiefer Sutherland will throw me off, unfortunately.

help_haiti, and other links

moofoot — Thu, 14 Jan 2010 04:12:49 GMT

I know it's been a while since I've updated; I've been busy with the upcoming move. I just wanted to post a brief message adding to the chorus of folks sending their support to those in Haiti suffering from the earthquake disaster. I encourage people to donate if they are able to, and keep those who are homeless, hurting, and who have lost loved ones and livelihoods in their thoughts and prayers.

I have joined the fandom effort at help_haiti, offering to write fic for the top three bidders in the 'auction'. The writing auction is here: WORDS. My entry is on page 10 (as of 8PM, today) if anyone is interested; there are quite a few talented authors offering their services! Also, they have pages for graphics, art, food/goodies, random things; all being auctioned to help.