Prompt: True North
When people speak of the things that hold them together, they speak of love, of trust, of family, or maybe of god.
I speak of nearly two tons of high tensile fire-resistant fabric knitted together with a foul smelling glue, a thin metal frame, and bladders of highly-flammable hydrogen gas suspended in a net above my head.
It is not much; certainly more ethereal than a man’s belief in his god.
The balloon is nearly inflated now, glowing silvery against the moonlight. It’s just my mother and I preparing for launch, secreted away along the edge of her expansive property. Our mission has been in the works for months, and if all goes well I will be the first woman to float to the north pole. And if all doesn’t, I will likely be the first known woman to die trying. That ought to frighten me, but it doesn’t. A thrill runs down my spine.
The actual compartment I will be flying in is not a typical fairweather basket, but a metal sphere not unlike a diving bell. Two layers of aluminum with packed straw sandwiched between as insulation. That will be all that protects me from hail, wind, and extreme cold. It stands, weighted down by sand bags, waiting for me to crawl inside.
“You have your journals, Ellena?”
We’ve weighed and re-weighed everything I will be taking. There is little room for margin once we take off, and there will be nowhere to stop to refuel the hydrogen bladders. But my journals were never on the table to be cut; without them I am simply a fanciful woman, with them I am a scientist.
( Read more...Collapse )Prompt: Feckless
Synonyms: useless, without effect
It looks so good, dressed up on TV: a little pill, not too big, not too small. White, because white means clarity and health and purity and other marketing things that Henry doesn’t buy into. The commercials show people on a beach, doing slow motion beach things, bright glowing light dancing on everyone’s shoulders and hair.
“Love the sun again,” it boasts.
Henry takes a ship through the straw of his blood pack. He’s almost through the blister and it’s supposed to last him until Tuesday according to the nutrient plan his doctor put him on. Now that the cure’s out, insurance won’t cover the blood delivery any more so he’s had to cut back on the good stuff.
Sun’s going down outside and he can feel it in his blood, like a rising tide. He can’t see it from inside his apartment; that would be suicide. But the little red numbers on his clock say it’s almost seven o’clock. Thanks to winter and daylight savings time, it’s safe enough.
He dons his windbreaker, turns the collar up against the wind, and steps into the dusk.
San Francisco is a good city to be dead in. Lots of people selling their blood for cash, lots of people to buy black market blood from, too-- Hepatitis tastes a bit funny, but it’s better than going hungry.
Henry hits up a vampire standing outside a 7-Eleven who gives him a hit out of the blister pack he’s sipping from. Even if he’s metabolically dead now, at least camaraderie isn’t.
( Read more...Collapse )There is spittle in her hair. Amenanta is standing over her, made hazy by her blurred vision and the swirling red dust. She looks like a god, smug and powerful.
“Walk it off,” Amenanta says from above her, arms crossed over her chest, and Heilia feels something boil in her belly. It’s red hot, and it wants to crawl out of her, and so she lets it take over. She rolls onto her knees and rises, slowly so she won’t faint or throw up as her body protests strongly. But then she’s standing at her full height which is taller than Amenanta by half a hand, squared up feet to hips to shoulders to fists.
“Do you want to taste dust again?” Amenanta is so sure, so pleased with herself, that the hot live thing in Heilia’s belly roars up and takes over her fists and she slaps Amenanta’s pretty face with her left hand and then swinging in hard and fast and heavy with her right, balled up in a tight hammer strike to the cheekbone.
The hit doesn’t land. It’s a good punch, but Amenanta is fast and out of the way like wind, and putting Heilia down into the dust like wind, too.
( Read more...Collapse )Prompt: Impossible
She’s going to die.
Her vision starts to pulse and fade and she knows with certainty she’s seconds away from pulling that cursed involuntary gasp of seawater that will kill her, and she thinks, “at least I’m dying in the sea. I like the sea.”
Seawater rushes into her lungs and it tastes sweet. Satisfying. She breathes it. And then she wiggles her body free of the rigging that held her captive before, now floating around her like dead eels. She sees her life vest, too, floating beside her and still snapped shut, like she hadn’t just been wrapped up in it a second ago. Somehow she’s slithered out of that, too.
Nina’s lived on the ocean her whole life, sailed for most of it, swam in it and all its dangerous tides and creatures since birth. She knows this shape she’s become.
“I’m a god damned squid,” she thinks.
And then the shock ends and she’s at the surface again, and when she grasps at the ruins of her beloved little ship her hands are her own, ten fingers and mottled brown skin burned browner yet with the sun.
A coast guard ship is not a hundred yards out and heading towards her with lights shining and she thinks, “Oh, god I’m safe.” And then, “Also I was a squid.” Because both seemed equally true and equally impossible.
She goes home that night and visits her parents and her aunt down the street for dinner, like she does a few times a week, and it’s like nothing’s changed.
“Shame about your boat, but you’re damned lucky to be alive.” Her dad is a brusk man. A good man, but firm in what he believes and unwilling to censor himself. “Foolish of you to be out in weather like that, making the coasties come and rescue you.”
Her aunt shushes him and puts another heap of mashed potatoes on his plate. “We’re just happy you’re alright. Want any more ham?”
( Read more...Collapse )Prompt: everything looks like a nail
Content Warning for premature babies and scary medical situations, nothing explicit
---
There is someone I haven’t met yet who is 2 lbs 1 oz. He was born last week, 15 weeks early, and someday he’ll call me aunt.
This week everything I think of floats back to him. How is he doing? Is he growing the way he should? Is he safe? Will be be okay? Will be be blind or have cerebral palsy? Will he struggle with language and have developmental delays?
I’ll love him no matter the outcome, of course. That was never in question. And he has good, loving parents, too. This tiny person is my brother’s son. My younger, baby brother, who with his wife has wanted desperately to be a parent. They’ve tried hard, and had hard losses. And I still see the two of them as so, so young.
( Read more...Collapse )“I love you.”
It’s whispered gently in her head and reverberates somewhere above her left eye, where her grandmother is buzzing around today.
Arvilla stirs clockwise six times, taps her wooden spoon thrice against the copper cauldron, and speaks the magic words. Then, with her grandmother’s love humming in her mind like a kiss, she decants the watery potion into the six waiting vials on her desk a few feet away. The wood face of the desk is scarred and mottled with years of potions accidents, knife scores from hasty chopping, and hard use. But it serves her just fine, just like the rest of the house. Two chimneys, a hearth half the size of the house itself, and a roof half made of vents on various pulleys to keep the place cool even in the heat of summer with the fires blazing.
It’s a good house.
She corks the six vials after blowing a kiss into each, and smiles when they shift from a slippery yellow color to a deeper purple.
“You’ve such a deft hand with potions. I know, there’s plenty else for a girl with your talents to be doing,” her grandmother says. She’s moved a bit, her voice coming closer now to her ear.
Arvilla rolls her eyes. “I like my life, grandma. I like it here. What would I do without this house? Besides, why can’t you go bother mother, hm? I think she’s in the bahamas right now, wouldn’t you rather be there?”
( Read more...Collapse )Resolution and Revolution
The graffiti is stark and violent looking-- bright, poppy red with little drips down the word. Just the one word, with a slash cutting through the word it’s replacing. Simple, really.
It’s been popping up all over town, and if there’s one thing Eli’s sure of it’s that this case of sign debasement is not being tolerated. Overtime is getting paid out, and that’s how he knows it’s serious.
So he’s out past eight o’clock because the money is good, isn’t it. Spends plenty fine. He’s got his bucket and rag, his rubber gloves, and his industrial bottle of acetone and he’s here to undo what’s been done, to try to put the rabbit back in the hat.
He works silently with only the sound of passing cars and far-away too-loud conversations to keep him company. It’s a weekday so there’s no alcohol permitted in the city, so at least there aren’t any drunks. And curfew is in an hour anyhow, so he’ll be alone and unbothered soon enough.
He dips the rag and starts to work, scrubbing until the poppy-red ‘revolution’ fades away, sliding towards pink as it drips to the sidewalk in a cascade of pungent chemical. It doesn’t fade completely-- spray paint has gotten good, and this is the illegal kind only available on the black market. But it’s better. ‘Revolution’ is just a shadow by the time he’s finished, at least in the hazy light provided by the streetlamp.
The letters spell out the government’s preferred motto now without alteration: In Resolution, Peace. It’s on the sides of almost every official building, stamped on driving permits, and emblazoned on the shirts of federal workers nation-wide. School kids chant it every morning. Eli used to, too.
Eli puts the bucket and rag in the back of his truck. It’s inching towards nine o’clock but he has a work pass to be out after curfew if he needs to be. He snaps a picture of his handiwork for his boss, who requires that, and then puts his phone in the car as well, in the passenger glove compartment where it always lives. He can’t turn the location tracker off-- no one can anymore. So the glove compartment is a good place for it.
Also in the glove compartment of his truck is a can of red spray paint-- the illegal, hard to source kind. He lets his fingers brush over the canister, and drives down the street to the diner that stays open to 10 o’clock to feed people with legitimate after-curfew permits. He parks the truck, orders a burger, and then goes to stretch his legs.
He stops by his truck on the way. His hands are clean when he comes to eat his burger, and of course his gloves have spray paint on them. That’s his job, isn’t it?
He gets the work order the next day, too. Not a curfew job, but a morning one. Same state building, same sign. Strange, unsettling, they said, that someone worked that quick. He nods and frowns with them. Strange indeed. But the money spends just fine, he says with a smile, and goes to collect his bucket.
“In Revolution, Peace.”Bonjour. I do not speak French.
Once, in Paris, I hugged a woman who reminded me of the sun. She is bright and vibrant and her words can bring life and death. She's a ballet dancer and a lawyer and she walks through parks delighting in the world around her, bundled up against the gentle chills of Paris in the spring.
( Read more...Collapse )Looking forward (and with some anticipation) towards Season 11...
\o/
:)
Title: Vanya’s
Author: Orockthro
Fandom: The Man from UNCLE (TV)
Summary:
“FASHION BY STORM”
Henry Pettersen
December 18th, 1971, Women’s Wear Daily
On the eve of the holiday season many eager shoppers line the halls of department stores all across America, searching for last minute bargains. I, however, am still searching for the truth behind Vanya’s, the successful and shockingly recent break into affordable fashion for the masses.
What I am finding, dear readers, is an enigma, wrapped in a mystery, wrapped in a heavenly winter coat with a fur collar.
(Or, a post-series AU. The world tries to unravel Vanya’s mystery, Illya tries to stay afloat and unravel a mystery of his own, and Rita Hogarty tries to do her job.)
Tags: Illya Kuryakin & Napoleon Solo, Illya Kuryakin, Napoleon Solo, Angelique, Post Series, House of Vanya, AU, Outsider POV
Notes: AHAHAHHAHAHAHA I FINISHED IT.
But the essance of this madness, is thave I've started writing fic. Two short ones so far.
Title: Fallow Words
Fandom: Aubrey-Maturin Series by Patrick O'Brian
Summary: He’s so thin, laid out on top of the cot, the swath of white bandage hiding the carnage, but not Jack’s memory of it. He clutches his pen tighter at the half-blurred remembrance; Stephen’s heart pumping frantically, visible to all and sundry and even now turning Jack’s vision gray. Gray like Stephen’s face, except for his cheeks which flush pink with unhealthy fever.
(Or, set near the end of HMS Surprise, Jack watches over Stephen during his delirium, and begins understand that love is a complicated thing.)
Title:Through a Glass
Fandom: Aubrey-Maturin Series by Patrick O'Brian
Summary: “Stephen reflected upon Sophie’s confinement.” / “Tomorrow, at the crack of dawn, you lose your husband to his natural element.”
-The Mauritius Command - Patrick O’Brian
She yearns to leave the window open but is terrified one or the other of the children will topple out from it. And so she sits, holding Fanny, rocking her, and looking out the bolted window, through the wavering glass that blurs and warps the world. Unlike Jack’s telescopes, it does not bring her clarity or comfort, only obfuscation. She can’t see the sea from here, but she knows without a doubt exactly where it lays, at what bearing and what distance. Knows for the creaking in the wood when her husband leaves their bed to climb to his observatory and gaze out upon it, when her ability to please him falls short of his expectations. How odd they should both look at the world through a glass and see it so differently.
(Or, Sophie, set in the beginning of The Mauritius Command contemplates her family and her life.)
Look kids I did a thing! (And this is what happens when you sit down to write, conscript a friend to beta, and don’t move for several hours.)
Title: For Every Good Reason (link to AO3)
Fandom: Man from UNCLE
Word Count: 7,800
Summary: /Illya dreams of fire. Of smoke, of saltwater rising and locking his legs into quicksand, of Napoleon’s mouth over his as they bob in the water, breathing life into him./
“You’re supposed to be the strong swimmer,” the shadow said from above. The image swam as he blinked his eyes clear of stinging saltwater until, finally, the edges narrowed and refined, and he was left with Napoleon’s face staring down at him, pale against the blue sky.”
(Or, trapped on an island after a mission gone sour, Illya must reconcile his broken memory and what Napoleon tells him of past events, putting their partnership and trust on the line.)
Tags: Illya Kuryakin/Napoleon Solo, Napoleon Solo, Illya Kuryakin, Desert Island Fic, Amnesia, Hurt/Comfort
I'm severly limiting my LJ and Tumblr time, and completely abolishing the use of multiple browser tabs, in order to try and re-up my frazzled attention span and actually do shit.
So far it's produced 18,000 words of a novel idea. So until I remember how moderation works and how to not lose whole afternoods to a internet refresh-refresh-refresh haze, internet!lite Oro is on deck.
I will still be around, but if you want me to see something and don't want to run the risk of me missing it (I won't be backreading feeds for example) please email me! Fandom email: orockthro@gmail.com
Love ya'll.
Ye’ve been warned. Non-specific discussion of a fandom’s reaction to a character doing Bad Things below (tw: rape)
So I’ve been re-reading and trolling through my ill-maintained bookmarks from the last 10 years of my fic reading life, trying to figure out what I want to rec, and what I wish I could pretend I never liked in the first place.
And I just need to … say somethings, Highlander fandom. I really do. I know I’m like 15 years to late, but I can’t help it.
Remember that plot line where Methos is revealed to have done Very Bad Things several thousand years ago, but because of immortality! one of his victims is still alive and kicking? Yeah that happened on the show. Also on the show, Cassandra, his victim, tries to get what we’re told is “revenge,” (because that’s not at all like what any of the male characters do but call keeping the world safe, nope /sarcasm) but is effectively sent home because a certain someone (Duncan. It was Duncan. It’s always Duncan) “wanted him to live” and told her not to kill him when she, understandably, wanted to cut his head off. He tells her not to kill her abuser, and she disappears off the set and off the show. (AHAHAHAH) The end.
Yeah that was bad, show. Like, really, really, really fucking bad. But I watched it in High School. I didn’t know any better. I, like folks with Severus Snape, saw him as a misunderstood guy. I was convinced, like the audience and other characters were meant to be convinced, that because it happened a Very Long Time Ago, it was okay. He was a different person now.
A) that’s bullshit, but that’s the show. That’s canon. I’m not here to bitch about that.
B) I’m here to bitch about the fandom reaction.
(Small caveat: I am not part of the HL fandom. I only binge read every few years.)
Fandom, what the actual fuck????????
I’ve read several, that is, MANY, fic (often epic length) where Cassandra is basically the boogyman, this character who appears some time later to kidnap Methos and torture him for his offenses against her. Which I am super down with, btw. Get it, girl.
But that’s not the end. I’d be more than fine if that were the end. But no. The end is that she’s depicted as having gone insane, torturing him for no reason whatsoever, unlike Methos, who tortured her to stay alive (and he’s 99% always painted in a sympathetic light, with a story of how he himself was abused first, and abusing her was some kind of self defense for his own horrible situation). And like, 90% of those stories end with Duncan MacLeod of the fucking Clan MacLeod killing her to rescue Methos from her wichly grasp. (Sidenote…. her being a witch is actually canon… that is no coincidence I think >___> That’s right 1990s TV show. I’m side eyeing you.)
I get it. Methos is a popular character and people were probably a bit struck on the head with NOPES when this plot was unveiled. But guess what? Killing the woman he abused in fic and writing her as mentally ill to make it justifiable?
REALLY FUCKING NOT COOL. AHHHHHHHHH!
(Crossposted to Tumblr)
Things I loved in no particular order, realizing I'm still sleep deprived and forgetting things:
- Pronoun stickers to put on your name badge. They had every configuration under the sun, and would happily print out something specific on request (they, zi, he, she, prefers not to choose etc.)
- Social interaction cards to put in your badge if desired/helpful (red = don't talk to me right now, thanks!; yellow = I'm open to talking but let me approach you; green = i'd love to chat but might be shy or have anxiety, please approach me!)
- The Tiptree Award sing along
- Alaya Dawn Johnson and Kim Stanley Robinson as guests of honor. Alaya's speech actually made me cry. Her contributions to the "Not Another Race Panel" cracked me up completely (she put the image of a CareBare/Harry Potter crossover in my mind that I will never be able to unsee... for better or for worse)
- Meeting Saathi1013 from the interwebs
- Meeting her husband, who had flowers woven into his beard and hair. A+ to you, sir.
- Meeting two other new friends of a mutual friend who I'm hooking up to play boardgames with next week
- Bitching for a solid hour and a half with two dozen angry and beautiful feminists on why we feel the disney princess franchise has failed us
Hayyy kids! Taking a page out of 
scherwood 's book recently, I am going to start posting recs. I don't have a scheule or, frankly, even a plan. :) I just read a shit ton of fanfic, and want to share some of my favorites. Sometimes they'll be fic that are unequeled in writing, sometimes they'll be fic that just made me happy. It will be cross fandom and posted both here and on Tumblr, and will include not just the fic, but a little bit about why I think it's worth your time to read.
First up....
Fic: Two Masters by Emily Veinglory (this link takes you to the fic via the Wayback Machine) - 8,500 words - NS/IK - Author did not rate
Author’s Summary: “I made my first mistake one dark night in Essex.”
My thoughts: To my knowledge, this author has written just two MFU fic. This, and a fic called Fool’s Russian (also provided via the Wayback Machine - if anyone has alternative links, please let me know!), which although hits several of my “oh god yes” buttons, is not as strong.
It’s first person from Illya’s POV, which sounds potentially awkward, but actually allows for some really lovely writing. The prose borders on being on overdone, but because Illya is a transplant with English as a second (or third, or fourth) language who airs on the side of being over-analytical himself, it actually works very well, and has a maturity that sets it apart from a lot of other fic.
The story is slash, but centers on Illya’s loyalty to both the Soviet Union and UNCLE, not just a contentious and burgeoning relationship. In the middle of it all are Napoleon, the KGB, Illya’s own decisions, and the decisions that are made for him by both circumstance and others.
The thing that really struck me about the story was its carefulness in dealing with its subject matter. In a number of older MFU fic I’ve read Illya is written as a defector who is strongly loyal to not just UNCLE, but also the United States. This fic approaches Illya’s position much more complexly, and is a breath of fresh air that acknowledges both the false dichotomy of the Cold Word, and the careful balancing act Illya must uphold.
Excerpt: “I reached to try and move the twigs in a way so as to deflect the relentless spigots of rain, and as I drew back I touched Napoleon’s hand lying lax across a mass of branches. Surprise made me freeze and as I paused the feeling of his skin beguiled me. His wrist was surprisingly narrow under my palm. The edge of his glove was soft and curled over so that the rain had begun to dampen the lining. Where my skin touched his, warmth began to build. I sighed quietly and in doing so noticed the silence.
Napoleon had woken, but he could not know the sound he had been making and thus not know that I could tell he was now awake. I could have just patted his hand in some comradely fashion and moved away, but I did not choose to do so.“
Force it open, cut off the 50 year old dried rubber sac, give it all a solid clean, put on a new sac, and VOILA! A PEN!
In my defence, I've been thinking about fountain pens for years now, but haven't been ballsey enough to try and deal with the cool old ones. Until now...
It's not very fancy, it's in pretty rough shape (it's stained, and the insides are dried to hell; can't even get it apart yet) but I'm going to try and fix it up! Which will be a bit of a learning experience (to say the least...) I've already splurged on a repair kit, so when it comes, we'll see what happens. XD You may get frustrated, ink stained pictures of me this weekend...
But the best part of this story is the man I bought it from, who was milling around his booth at the store. I love chitchatting with folks like this, so first thing I did was ask him his favorite item in his area. He was particularly fond of this super retro 60s era lamp the size of like, a small car. But then the ball got rolling and he started showing me all sorts of random things. He left for a few minutes to go complain to the store manager about the music selection playing in the background (apparently Lady GaGa and Atinques weren't meshing well for him) and left me to rummage around in the locked cabinets unsupervised. And then I found the pens. I mean, I also found a bunch of other cool stuff, but I had to limit myself. ;)
I talked him down in price mostly just by existing (it was about the easiest negotiation I've ever participated in), but the best part was after we agreed and we just hung out for a bit. Apparently he used to be a librarian for a primatology library, and had a dinner party with Jane Goodall! Who, apparently, really liked his fireplace.
He was a trip, lol.
Oops. That robot AU I've been poking at? Finally gave up and posted it. o__o;
Title: Unit I, Series LYA: Press to Activate (Link goes to AO3)
Word Count: 3,600
Summary: “Look, can I call you something else? Unit I, Series LYA doesn’t exactly, ah, roll off the tongue.”
Blue eyes stare at him dispassionately. It’s horrifying how human he looks. Probably because he was, once. Those blue eyes belonged to some poor brain-dead potato farmer, or a mortally wounded KGB officer, before he became… this… instead. Whatever this is. He’s seen what’s between those eyes now. It’s metal and flesh and wires and fluid that looks like engine oil but smells like blood, and Napoleon doesn’t want to see it again.
“A common Soviet name is Illya. If it makes you more comfortable, and will increase our success in the field, you may call me that.”
(Or, the Soviets have made a leap in technology, and Napoleon is assigned a new partner. Just not one he was expecting.)
This week has been rough, this day has been rougher yet. :/ My last day at my current position within the company (and at that location) is a week from tomorrow, and I feel like the closer it gets, the farther away I get from the safety of the eye of the storm.
My immediate supervisor is under enormous stress at work from her boss, the building we just moved into is still in shamles and a mess and a half mostly because one of the people we hired recently isn't showing as much promise as we'd hoped and doesn't have much initiatve at all, and even though we essentially hired two people to replace me instead of one, she's worried I'm going to leave a gaping hole in the company when I shift. Which is kinda bullshit. I have trained my replacement, who has been doing my job on her own for the last month while I do stuff for my new position.
And I get it. I do. Shit's going down and we've been the dynamic duo of getting it taken care of in the past, and it freaks her out that things are changing.
But it's shitty as hell for me to be bearing her worries and frustrations. Especially since we've known for 6 months (hell, longer!) that this was happening.
I asked to take two days next week to help with the furniture delivery and miscelaneous set up of the new office I'm starting (because, hello, yes I need to do that. I'm going to be the office manager, I absolutely need to make sure we have coffee service and a working printer before the place opens up) and was told, "What? Why!? You don't need to do that, what are you going to do, twiddle your thumbs? There aren't even phones yet." Nothing I say has much effect; she thinks, super clearly, that I'm somehow abandining my current responsibilities in a ball of fire to go play doll house. As if I need a landline phone to do work when I have a cell phone, a laptop, and a wi-fi hotspot.
It sucks, because until this week, I had a great relationship with my supervisor, and I was super looking forward to being on a more peer level with her. Now I'm 90% convinced that after I leave, everything that goes wrong at that location will become "my fault" because I left.
:(
I'm just really frustrated and saddend by the whole thing. I want to be able to open up a new chapter of my working life, and instead I'm concentrating a ton of my energy on not pissing her off further.
/venting
In much happier news, I'm going to see Age of Ultron tonight! I'm apparently stupid/brave enough to try a midnight showing even though I'm usually in bed before ten, lol.
Also there was Neil DeGrasse Tyson.
Can I say that enough?
PS he’s an amazing speaker. Inspiring on so many levels. If you get the chance to hear him, I highly rec it. :)
(I'm the goober in the front)
(NEiL DEGRASSE TYSON!!!)
But because I'm me, I'm now 110000% invested in a crazy weird crime fighting OT3 family.
I want this so bad it actually hurts.
So of course, what do I (and Cortue. Can't absolve her of guilt in this. Al the guilt in this) do but decide to write an epic gender AU OT3 fic where Matt Murdock is Mags Murdock, and she and Foggy Nelson and Karen Page are fantastic and have a weird little superhero life together.
Because of course. What else is logical.
(Nothing. Nothing else is logical.)
PS fair warning for anyone interested in trying this show out, it's incredibly graphic and violent. And also cool. The violence tapers off after the first four eps or so. Or maybe I just got used to it... It also has randomly impressive cimematography intersperced with really heavy handed dialogue. XD It's kinda a ... wide range. You think you will hate Foggy. You will love Foggy. This is the show in a nutshell.
Just look at themmmmmm <3
The body starts shaking as soon as they plug him in (plug it in, Napoleon has to remind himself. The body laid out isn’t a man, not really, even though it looks like one with its blond hair and perfectly imitated human features). Rough hands and callous touches push him onto his stomach to better expose the panel at the nape of his neck that pops open to reveal blinking lights and wires. They hold its face into the thin mattress of the gurney as they work, stabilizing the power point and ramming the cord into whatever version of a spine he has, and Napoleon wants to tell them not to suffocate him, damn it, but he’s not sure there’s any point. He’s not sure it breathes.
“Is that normal?” The power connects and the shaking takes over. The white-coated bastards step back and it happen. Napoleon wants to reach out to him (reach out to it) but he’s afraid of being electrocuted. The Soviets haven’t exactly been forthcoming with their information about this new project of theirs, and the CIA, the FBI, and half of UNCLE are convinced they’ve been handed the world’s most expensive Trojan horse. But Mr. Waverly signed the papers, and that’s good enough for Napoleon.
“Don’t concern yourself with its comfort, Mr. Solo, only its skill. You will be taking this unit into the field with you, yes?”
He swallows. “Yes.” That was Mr. Waverly’s grand plan, apparently. Napoleon still felt half a sacrificial goat.
The man in the white lab coat smiles, and his teeth are just as white. “Then it must be calibrated.”
( Read more...Collapse )I brought it on myself, talking about plot bunnies the other day. Now I have a fresh AU I want to pet. Damn it all! I'm meant to be writing so many other things!
Soooo I start a new position in my company in roughly six weeks. That new position is being the office manager for a new and shiny place downtown.
I’m excite. But also hella nervous. I’m currently working for a boss who is like, the ultimate Boss. He’s an odd duck, but he’s good. Really good. Like, scary good. He makes the job werk.
I’m going to be working for a new boss soon that is coming on board to spearhead a new division of work and take the lead of the office, one who is very new on the job and at the beginning of their career. It’s going to be so different, and I’m going to learn how to be a support staff to someone who really needs me to make them look good, which is inherently part of the role, but one that until now has mostly been easy as pie. This new boss… it’s going to be interesting. And possibly rough waters.
@__@
There is no point to this post; just airing my dirty laundry. And my worries. Mostly my worries.
Crossposted to tumblr
Author: Orockthro
Word Count: 6,000
Summary: “Ask me more things, it feels so good to answer them.”
Tag: Non-Consensual Drug Use, Blow Jobs, Truth Serum, Dubious Consent
Extra thanks to
laurose8 for her steadfast work as a beta. All foolhearty things are my own mistakes.Aka in which Oro has once again not written the thing she was suppose to be writing, and instead wrote blow jobs and truth serum porn.
I'm just going to leave this here and walk away...
But seriously, the surrounding events have been pretty shitty. Got some incredibly sobering (pun ... sadly intended) news about my brother's relationship with alcohol 8 hours before our flight took off for this vacation (guess who didn't sleep), and then while I'm away my city police pulls a fucking Ferguson. God fucking damn it.
So far I'm proud of my city's peaceful protest response, but the whole thing, the whole EVERYTHING, just makes me sad. :(
At least the weather is nice?
Despite my fears, my kitten did fantastic on Thursday and is now spayed and still alive! She was suuuuch a stoned kitten when I first brought her home. She didn't want to be cuddled or touched, she just wanted to wander about the house with wide eyes and never. stop. moving. But today she is muuuch better. Phew! She refuses to wear the cone of shame, though, and getting her to "not jump on or off things" per the vet is pretty much the biggest joke I've ever heard. I figure at this point it is what it is, lol.
Movie news:
I saw Jupiter Ascending for the second time last night. The first time I saw it was 2D, this time 3D, and I have to say the 2D tracked better for me. I never follow fight sequences as well in 3D which is always frustrating.
That movie is, hands down, a WONDERFUL EXPLOSION OF SPARKLE-JOY. It hits so many buttons for me: amazing sci fi, girl power, families, dune-like family business that span the galaxy.... I love the world building, the visuals, the family dynamics on Earth. Fuck. I just love this movie. A lot. When it hits the $2.50 theater I will no doubt see it a third time. XD
In TV news:
I've started watching Sapphire and Steel. I'm oddly entranced?? It's a bizarre little show! I've decided that treating it as a filmed play is way more effective than treating it like a TV series. It just has a weird cadence and pacing. And holy butts, if I thought Red Dwarf had a shoe string budget, they had a *fortune* compared to this one. o_O;;
But it's actually kinda enrapturing! I'm on the second adventure right now, and enjoying it despite myself. It's very different from anything else I've watched recently.
@__@ My list of WIPS is strong with the force and weak with the ... anything else. Did I mention wine was involved?
But yay NS and IK huddling for warmth? Who needs plot when you have hypothermia, THRUSH cells, and first meetings.
I mean, at least I have my priorities straight... >_____>;;
Happy valentines to everyone out there! May your day be filled with whatever sort of love you crave.
So I mostly use tumblr for blogging (orockthro.tumblr.com) but I figured I'd change it up, since a fair number of new people I know use LJ mostly.
I had an... overly eventful holidays, and I'm glad it's over. That said, it ended up actually really pretty nice and special, even though it started rough.
In sum:
My cat got sick, we burried my grandfather, my cat got better, went to my cousin's engagement party, had Christmas Eve with one side of my family, had Christmas with the other (17 guests and a stressed out mother), made a surprising connection with my dad's cousin who is interesting and fun and has apparently taken it upon himself to be my new surrogate queer uncle and might be a possible business connection, inhereted my great grandmother's antique singer sewing machine, hosted my great godmother when she flew into town, helped host my other set of grandparent's 60th wedding anaversary (another 12 guests, an even more stressed out mother), and then drove home.
Oh, also my coworker just quit, so starting tomorrow I get to fill in her job, too.
The end.
I need a vacation from my vacation, lol!
Here, have a pic of my kitten in her new cat tree. ;) She had a good Christmas.
My flash-flame obsession with Person of Interest (which spurred the most writing I've done for fandom... ever!) is now over in a post-breakup-what-did-you-do-show spiral, and I've found myself, inexplicably, in the Man from UNCLE fandom. I know. It... surprised me too (a lot).
Fic is still over at AO3 (under Orockthro), AIM is still "Orockthro" and ... I guess I'm still here too, although I doubt I will use this blog for actual blogging purposes more than once in a blue moon.
Feel free to give a shout! :D I'm always happy to make new fronds and talk with peeps. ;)
Kind of an anticlimactic end to it all - my boss is out of town this week and my cubemate is off on vacation. So here I am, all alone, looking thorugh boxes of microfiche because nobody wants to field me a project on my last week. XD Woo!
Something cool happend, and I felt gleeful the rest of the day. I helped someone! With my boss gone out of town I am, by sad default, the cultural expert on site. This mostly makes me giggle. But yesterday I got to be useful! One of the project managers came to me wanting to know how to proceed on a project because one of the maps had pinged a potential historic building in their project area. And I got to go "oooh! You should call the SHPO office and have them send you the files for that township and range" :D I felt important, even though it was a decidedly simple piece of advice. XD I got a rush from it. And that has to be a good sign for my choices in life, right?
In other cool news, I called the MN State Archaeologist to chit-chat about grad school. He's an adjunct prof at the U of MN and was amazingly helpful in understanding what makes a good CRM program and how important they are. :) Plus, I talked on the phone to the freaking State Archaeologist about my ~future. It was awesome.
All in all, I am feeling wonderful. I have a direction, a place I want to be, something I want to do with my life, at least for now. It won't make me rich, but since when have I wanted that? All I want is to someday own a house and be financially independent. I want a two bedroom place so I can have an ~art studio, and I want a porch. That is all I want out of life. :)
Also, packing to go back to school. Crap. *wallows under boxes of shit*
- Current Mood:
excited
hc_bingo XDI'm not sure what I'll be doing, only that I'm far too excited about it all... Cause clearly I have extra free time in my life. *flails* But an excuse to write fic? Yes, please. :)
My bingo card is under the cut, but as of now it is empty of fic.
( H/C Bingo CardCollapse )
- Current Mood:
tired
Been a while since I’ve updated.
News: Bought the tablet. It is beautiful. A full post on it will come later. Maybe. I promise nothing. ;) Because I’m lazy and forgetful in equal parts.
Big News: I have a full time summer job/internship! It’s with the Army Corps of Engineers working out of their regulatory branch. In human terms, I’m interning under their archaeologist who works on permits that might impact historic and culturally significant places.
So far I have:
· Had to fill out a truly astonishing amount of paperwork. Truly. Astonishing. They have my fingerprints on file in at least three locations. It’s borderline terrifying.
· Completed vast sets of mandatory training, including a 3.5 hour PowerPoint session and corresponding exam on defensive driving. Seriously?
· Read through several regulation books and am slowly gleaning an understanding of what the Corps does… very slowly. Hint: there’s lots of paperwork ;)
o Get a permit request for construction of some sort (mine, levee, power lines etc)
o Figure out if anything historical or archaeological is going to get trashed, get the details, notify the right people, do the right paperwork
o Try and mitigate or keep the trashing from happening with yet more paperwork and people (and estimate a time of 6 months to 5 years to process, loaded more on the shorter end of things than the long)
· Visited a mining site up north, floundered about the woods with a gps I don’t know how to work and a compass that points to wherever the nearest iron deposit is (usually not north), met the tribal historic preservation officer for the project along with some other cool people, and saw moose tracks and poop! :D Woo! (managed not to step in the poo or see the moose, but I did see a coyote and a number of deer!)
· Got an army email address as well as a Corps email address, have a work phone, a swipe card to let me access the building, and a CAC card which lets me access the servers. It has my fingerprints too. They don’t mess around here. XD
Dude. I’m working for the man. And the man pays well.
Bad news of all this is I have very little free time anymore. I work a normal full time shift and suddenly I understand why regular folks are so tired all the time. It’s hard to be an adult! And I only work 40 hours a week compared to the many more of most folks. Yeiks. I leave the house at 6:40 and return at 5:00. M-F. Not horrible as far as real jobs go, actually. Unfortunately, that leaves little time for friends, little time for drawing, little time for much of anything, really. Welcome to the real world, I suppose. XD It’s a bit of an eye opener and a good one.
But yeah. I suppose that’s the extent of my news for the moment.
I’m off to quickly finish up my leveragexchange fic and send that in before the tomorrow deadline. :D
- Current Mood:
amused
Author: Orockthro (aka BalrogsBreath)
Fandom: Firefly/Serenity
Summary: The Guildhouse is nothing like Serenity. From the prompt: "Firefly, Inara, the Guildhouse is solid and unmoving (and nothing close to Serenity)," for havenward.
Rating/Warnings: PG. Implied sex/sex acts. She's a companion, it comes with the territory.
( Click to readCollapse )
- Current Mood: amused
Happy New Year everyone!
I'm home and in my pajamas at dinner, and being a total slob. And it's lovely. The reprieve will be ending soon, but I'm looking forward to getting back on campus, back to normal life, back to friends, and back to challenging academics and supportive professors.
New Years Resolutions:
(I probably shouldn't even make this list... I'll break half of them... but it feels like the right thing to do anyhow)
1) Get fit. Yeah. It's on everyone's list, and it's at the top of mine too. I got flubby again, no use denying it. I don't think it'll take all-too much work to beat out of me, but I actually have to get off my lard and pull me some sit-ups!
2) Read more books, specifically books I've started but haven't finished... those ones in the corner of my room looking sad.
3) Write more. Really, write more. It can be fanfiction, it can be journaling, what-ever! I just need to DO it.
4) Draw more. With the same stipulations as above. You can't get better thinking about shit, you have to do it. Nuff said.
5) Do something unexpected every once and awhile. I love my rutines, but I need to force myself out of them sometimes. *nods*
- Current Mood:
blah
Title: Crash Landing
Author: Orockthro
Warnings: Gen, shameless Eliot!Whump. I admit it fully. I'm addicted to h/c
Notes and Spoilers: Takes place directly post The Mile High Job (ep.8) It's a cliche. I'm sorry. Also, not beta-ed. *shrugs* If you want to, be my guest! :) Also-also... there is not actually a crash landing. XD
Summary: “You’re not fine,” the grifter protested, putting a hand on his shoulder and purposefully invading his space. “You fainted.”
( Crash LandingCollapse )
- Current Mood: blah
This thing that is called comment_fic. It may have devoured my soul. :D
I just finished writing two shitty little fanfics. And even though they're shitty... they were super fun. XD
Damn it. I may be falling back into fanfiction.
( The Baby Job & The Miami JobCollapse )
- Current Mood:
crazy
Haven't posted in aaggeess....
I'm coming home in a week. And wow, am I excited for it. Ireland has been fascinating, uncomfortable, amazing, interesting, and a totally-worth-it experience despite the fact that I felt alienated and confused most of the time. ;) I'm pretty sure there isn't really any other way to feel but alienated and confused. And although I would do it again, knowing that I'm going home... feels really, really good.
Walked down one of the dozen bakeries and pigged out on mince-meat pies the other day while taking a break from paper writing. Got soaked. Was happy. :D
I have an exam in an hour or two. It will be nice to get that over with, but I have four papers due in four days. Have I mentioned that I'm an idiot? All four of them are begun, and two of them are over halfway done. But still.. it kinds hurts my brain. I think I'll be going back to the bakery. ;)
Sooo...
I found a new TV show I feel in love with. *coughs* I know, I know.. right when I really don't have the time to be falling in love with a TV show. Sue me. :P It's called Leverage and ... is amazing. It has been described as the A-Team+Oceans 11+Robin Hood... and that's about as good a description as you can get. :D It's amazing. The acting is great, the writing... is almost great, and the characters are a damned blast!
And I have found this thing called comment_fic and it has eaten my soul.... *dies*
Now all I want to do is write shitty fanfics. XD
Damn it!
Love you all.
- Current Mood:
confused
And I have three more.
Beloit, I will never complain about your 20% finals ever again.
Seriously. This OMG feeling is made much, much worse by the fact that the library here makes me want to cry. There are over sixty people in my class. And three copies of one of the core books are housed in the oh-so-useful library. Two of these books are checked out and the other is on three hour desk reserve.
.____.
In other news... Nano continues!
Nano Word Count:
20,028
(This will now be coming to a near halt as I pull my ass in gear for, you know, actual real world shit.)
My writing has never been worse! Hazah! :D
But at this rate I might actually finish my story before I hit 50K. I'm about half done now, I think... Which I wasn't expecting. But that's alright, because it means I can just include my rewritten chapters in my word count, right? *coughs* ???
- Current Mood:
working
But.
Nano has begun!
So hazah!
XD
If you're doing nanowrimo this year, friend me on the website. My username is 'orockthro' just like it is here. ;) I'm a tad predictable.
In other news, happy late Halloween!
- Current Mood:
happy
ArtSoc is going well! Tomorrow evening we're doing still life painting, which should serve to be fine-and-dandy. <3 I do love me some plastic plants. :D
But, most of my time has been plotting away for nano this year. I'm far too excited about it even though I'll pressed like hell for the time.
Anyone else doing nano? What are your plans?
/little post
- Current Mood:
content
Instead it is one o'clock in the morning and I just had to call security because Eimear's room started puffing out dust... because she left her window open... and because a fire-extinguisher was set off in her room and was flowing out into our hall.
I am not pleased. This just got personal.
My apartment was violated and Eimear jeopardized the integrity of this whole place by leaving open not only her window but her door as well.
And now everything is covered in baking soda.
-_____-
I'm both tired and wired and my internet is crap. I'll try and upload pictures but it'll probably have to wait until I get on campus wi-fi tomorrow morning.
Maybe I'll have a brighter outlook then too.
*seeeeeeths*
P.S.
Most of my things are fine, but nearly everything of Eimear's got ruined. Her whole room, the clothes, the books, the papers, the ipod speakers, the shoes, the electrical cords... it is all covered in a thick layer of yellowed power which is probably not so good to be breathing in...
I wanted an adventure.
I think I'm getting one.
- Current Mood:
nauseated
Beware:
A post of ranty-ness.
So…
Yeah, it’s still a madhouse. My life, specifically my current accommodations, that is.
*seeeeeeths*
But in better news:
I’m going to Dublin this weekend and Paris mid October.
Beat that, suckers.
- Current Mood:
shocked
Comments
Oh, what a blessing! I love the style of that, and the gumption of Ellena and her mother.
I knew we would probably get a few entries about the North Pole, but hadn't…