melannen | Some scraps of things.

Here are some posts I have made to DW communities in the past week:

asexuality: Queering the Census: We ALL Count, in which I gripe about the Queer the Census campaign, which is about greater visibility for LGBT people but erases everyone who isn't heterosexual but doesn't fit it one of the L-G-B-T boxes.

common_nature: Welcome!, In which

elke_tanzer and I have started a community that is all about nature, and you all should join it! And post stuff there! And leave comments!

create_my_comm: Little Details, in which we are all agreed that DW needs a community that is like l_d only awesomer, and none of us want to be the one to start it! (So you should!)

starry_sea: Anybody still here?, in which I apologize abjectly for abandoning my own community, and talk about how to get it active again.

tarot: An Amazing Tarot Blog, in which I rave at length about Pre-Gebelin Tarot History, which discusses tarot from a strictly historical and rational perspective, a perspective which is deeply awesome and far, far too hard to find.

treknovelfest: Illustration for "Three T'kay Stories", in which I have done a lot of research in the Starfleet Archives and found photographs & descriptions of the original ancient Vulcan artifacts that were used to illustrate

ljc's treknovelfest entry based on my prompt, From The Terran Coyote to The Klingon K'Ortar: Tricksters of the Alpha and Beta Quadrants.

...there, that can be my followfriday. :D (What posts have you made to DW communities in the past week?)

Most of those were posts I have been procrastinating on making for months! Having them done is like breathing clear air again. (Also, omg, I might actually have to change my to-do list now - I'm afraid the dry-erase marker might have set in on some of them.) There's several more I've had on hold, though - maybe now that I'm on a roll I can scratch even more of them off.

In the spirit of getting things done, how about that WIPs meme that was going around awhile ago? One paragraph from everything in my "In progress" folder, was it?

In a garden so green in May morening
heard I my lady pleen of paramours.
Said she, my love so sweet, come you not yet nor yet?
Heght you not me to meet amongst the flowrs?
Elore, elore, I love my lusty love, elore lo.

She smiled slightly at the victory of making him ask for the logic and lay her head back against the seat of the cab. "It's quite simple, Mr. Altamont. When I walked in, you gave me exactly the reaction I'd expect to a lady walking in to a working-class Irish drinking establishment. Everyone else, you might have noticed had you not been so busy acting, flinched and turned away. Miss Madelyn Mack with her white gown is quite well recognized in certain quarters of the city - it can be useful at times, you might try it sometime if you're willing to give up skulking about in disguise at the slightest excuse."

Well, all of this was very exciting, Harriet, as you can imagine: it sounded almost like something out of one of your stories or perhaps one of Peter's foreign service whatsits, and you can be sure that I wasn't leaving until I'd a better idea of who this Captain Harkness person was, having found myself far oversupplied with quiet living for some time, but before I could decide on the best direction to lead the conversation, Miss Noble had leaned forward and was looking quite intently at me.

Alistair gazed at Brimmicombe-Wood for a long silence, leaning on his cane, and then said, "It occurs to me that what you need is someone to stop you." The other man looked at him, then said, the Scots burr in his voice suddenly less pronounced than it had been, replied, "And do you know someone who'd be willing to take that job?" "Well," replied the Brigadier, "I had been considering it for myself." And almost smiled.

"Well," said Daniel, "I was thinking that, since DOMA forbids the federal government to acknowledge gay marriage in any way, we argue that the marriage clause in DADT is in violation; as long as the only evidence of homosexual conduct is a marriage, enforcing the regulation would constitute acknowledging the marriage." "Yes," said Alan, raising his eyebrows. "But *are* you sleeping with him?" Daniel raised his eyebrows right back. "Are you sleeping with *yours*?"

regency - sga regency - sw; xf-crossover; sharpe-aragorn; austen/hh; zombies/mc; hl pirates;dw pirates
shore leave; inn at the crossroads; immortality; death; swirly portals
lord john grey
temeraire/highlander; temeraire/mulan

And, okay, maybe they started doing it a little too much. Or a little too often. Because this time, it wasn't a particularly tense job; it was a really nice job, with a great payoff, and they'd all said they were going to head off and enjoy it in their own way, right? Nate was going to get drunk, and Eliot was going to start a bar fight, and Sophie was going to do -- Sophie stuff, and Parker was going to steal something, and Alec was going to play some World of Warcraft. Only instead Alec was lying in his bed, with his hand on his dick, listening to Parker give him far more detailed instructions than she ever managed when they were working, *that's* for sure. And she has this purr she did, which he would NOT have guessed, but she knew bodies and vibrations the way he knew computers, and the earbugs were designed to amplify sound through the jawbones but he'd swear she'd figured out a way to make it travel right down his *spine*.

"So what's all the fuss about this time, anyway?" asked Crowley, "The commanders just said they wanted us here as crowd control." "It's the Nazarene, the Baptist preacher," Aziraphale said, distracted. "He's come to the city for the holiday." "--I thought he was dead." "No, not Yokhanan; this one's his cousin. Yeshua." "Oh, Bar Abbas. Haven't they arrested him yet?" "Not Yeshua bar Abbas, the other Yeshua. Yeshua bar Maryam. The one with all the groupies." "Oh, of course. How could I have been so silly." Crowley paused, and added, "At some point, you know, the whole Messiah obsession just becomes ridiculous." "I agree entirely," Aziraphale muttered, eyes narrowed.

Mymisiir Offe Woom, our POV character, is a surmale paracauterist (paramedic/trauma surgeon) in their Majesties' Bucketeer service. In fact, rhe has followed in rher surfather's fingertracks to become one of the first generation of respectable surmale professionals, and is fiercely proud of the independent status that offers rher. Rhe is friend, admirer, and chronicler of Agot Edmoot Mav, male Inquirer in the bucketeer service, inventor of scientific forensics, and the world's first undercover detective. Mymy is continually beset by Mav's insistence on pickling his brain with dangerous chemicals, and on keeping company with disreputable personages - such as Vyssu, the smart and outspoken female brothel manager (and knitting enthusiast) who eventually completes their trine.

-e-a-c#-d-|d-(e)-d-c#-a-|e-----d-c#-d-|--e----|--e-a-c#-d--|--c#-a-e---d-|c#-d--e--|-a-----

"Give us two of what she's having," someone says, as he slides into the space next to her. She inspects her cup - the graphite is all gone, when did that happen? - and then him: human, male, somewhere between youthful and elderly, not wearing a Starfleet uniform but screaming out 'military' all the same. "Captain Jack Harkness," he says with a grin, draping his arms over the bar. "You must be the lovely K's't'lk: I've heard a lot about you."

Never forget / there's life after death and taxes / and forgiveness comes / and all of the rest / is what passes away / Death and decay can't touch us now

Gafiation: When you reach the last square on the board, you choose to retire to the "BNF Cabal" and calculate who has most points, FTW; if you feel like you're trailing severely, you can take a final gamble and spin to "Go Pro"; if anyone goes pro, they automatically win; if you try and fail, you lose it all.

"I think we can assist each other," he said, leaning against the railing beside me: slender, boyish, rather fey in dress, with only a few curls of red hair visible below a soft-crowned hat. "You are in need of passage back to England. I find myself in somewhat dire straits as well: there was a misunderstanding involving an engagement, you see, and some confusion about names, and now my prospective mother-in-law has informed her many connections that no-one fitting my description should be allowed to leave the continent. However, it has occured to me that they will be looking for a lone traveller: were I accompanied by a - shall we say fiancee? - there would be no difficulty at all."

I'm going to start referring to wank as "algebra" now.

godfatherofgay: I am so sick of this crap. You know what? I quit. I'm going to move to California to publish Man from UNCLE slashfic instead. Also, stop calling me at home, rah, it's starting to get a bit creepy.

Prince Rupert knew all of this because it was being told at him by one of the princesses - he wasn't entirely sure which one, since they all had two-syllable names that started with "A". They had managed to combine their mother's tall, regal figure with their father's short and stocky one, however, into an imaginative variety of shapes. This particular one had the misfortune of inheriting her father's height and figure both, so Rupert had been privately calling her "Dumpling." At least the girl was shorter than him, for once.

McCoy would be the manager, but he's always being called in to substitute for whoever's currently too fucked up to perform, and he's like, "Dammit, Jim, I'm a manager, not a bassist! Where the hell is Spock?" and Kirk's like, "Dunno, he went off with two days ago with like six groupies, I think it was that pon farr thing," and McCoy's all "What? He had pon farr last week!" and Chekov's like "You'd be amazed how much more often pon farr happens when you're still viping the cocaine off your nose".

James had worked very hard all day, but after Wilman brought him his supper and he ate, he unrolled the neat bundle of spanners that Richard had brought him and laid them out on the table, one after another in a neat row by size, and polished them each with a bit of cloth until before he stowed them away again and went to bed.

"The Murray woman and her friends have quite a lot to say about Imbolc, did you know," Amelia said speculatively, leaning back on her hands. "They claim that it was the date of one of the great fertility ceremonies - the divine marriage, where the Cailleach-hag of winter transformed into the Mother Goddess - they claim that stone circles like this one would be the sites of ceremonies where young virgins were ritually deflowered to beckon in the Spring." Miss Fay laughed. "I hope you've haven't become forgetful enough that you imagine I'm a virgin--"

Nyota flopped down across her bed. "I think Commander Spock and I are officially dating," she said tonelessly. Gaila glanced up from her PADD. "Really? I thought Vulcans were luaxe'sa." "What's luaxe'sa?" Nyota asked, curious; Gaila knew by now that using Orion slang around her linguist roommate was asking for questions. "It's someone who is immune to sex," said Gaila. "Really! I didn't know Orions even had the concept. How--" "Later," said Gaila, "Right now: you and hot Teacher?" "Ah. Well, it turns out Vulcans are luaxe'sa." Nyota shrugged, and let herself smile a little. "Luckily, so am I."

And T'kay, accepting that logic, turned away, and looking down from the high door of Seleya, she saw the hall of S'hariel, who is Death, dark in the shadow of the moutain. And Seleya, who is wise, said to her, "It would be inadvisable for you to visit S'hariel this day, for his blood burns, and he has lost his logic."

"Well I can't leave Bessie in their hands!" the Doctor shouted. "Just imagine what they'll do to her if they're allowed! I know what they're like: horrible things, and if we're lucky the planet won't blow up. And I'm certainly not letting him get his grimy fingers all over her intimate parts in some steamy garage; that's just perverse." "Oh, I don't know," said Gwen. "I wouldn't mind having James May get into my--"

In Which there is a Race in Dunsfold Wood, Hamster travels at an Unreasonable Velocity, and Winnie-the-Stig becomes Slightly Disoriented.

"Due to a short-notice cancellation, tonight's star is a bit different from our usual guests-- in fact, the only reason we had her number at all is that James May wants into her trousers-- but if you're a fan of good, solid, responsible investigative reporting, which means nobody who watches this show --you'll have heard of ace reporter Sarah Jane Smith!"

"And now, the news," said Jeremy Clarkson. "As you're all probably aware, all the buzz right now is for the new ATMOS systems, which were invented by--" "Just ATMOS," James interrupted. "What?" "ATMOS stands for Atmospheric Omission System, so if you say Atmos System, you're effectively saying System twice. It's a tautology." Jeremy turned back to the audience: "As I was saying, the new Atmos systems, which were invented by a group of schoolchildren in London."

"You've gone to the extremity of faking a telegram simply to trick me into to visiting this house? I hope you aren't under the impression that I was fooled by it," he said. "Oh no," said Mary Watson (nee Marston), with a disconcertingly hard glint in her eyes. "I've gone to much greater extremity than simply faking that telegram."

"She's like / so whatever / she can do / so much better" -> switch from Holmes/Watson to Mary/Irene

Free Tumble (All free tumble events take place in a spherical microgravity arena pressurized to 2 atm.)
Artistic - Free movement; emphasis on spins, minimal wall touches, and rapid acceleration & turns. Singles, pairs, and teams; choreographed programs and compulsory figures.
Dance - Free movement; choreographed to music; emphasis on co-ordination and grace. Pairs only.
Frame - Movement around a fixed framework of bars; emphasis on strength & control
Accelerated - artistic tumble with limited jet propulsion allowed; singles only.
Bubble; demonstration only - artistic tumble in a space containing ropes, elastic barriers, and free-floating elastic balls. Emphasis on staving off chaos. Exhibitions sometimes performed in an arena partially filled with liquids.

ETA: One more, how could I have forgotten!
A bad day was being woken up at 0400 because Tony had somehow managed to trigger every security flag the Air Force had on him. A very bad day was discovering (as the result of a phone Jim really would rather not have taken) that not only had Tony triggered your flags, he'd also managed to get the attention of the assholes at Cheyenne Mountain Command. But a very, very bad day was to follow all that by getting another call, while on the way to Tony's house to play damage control, and this one was from Pepper. "There's a half-naked teenage boy in Tony's living room, and I can't get him to leave," she said. "What do you mean, can't get him to leave?" Jim asked. Pepper had dislodged much weirder people from Tony's house the morning after (although the teenager part was a little skeevy, even for Tony.) "I can't get him to leave because Jarvis won't even let me in to the room," Pepper answered. "*What*?" "He's done something to Jarvis," Pepper said, and now Jim could identify the unfamiliar tone in her voice as half-hysterical. "He has a laptop, and Jarvis won't open doors for me anymore."

...it says something about me that my reaction to all of that laid out is "That's less than thirty things! Not at bad as I thought!" If you ask for more information about any of them in comments, I will probably give it to you. (At length! ^_^ )

Also while I am doing random meme-y things, poall:

Poll #2418

Open to: Registered Users, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 22

View Respondents

If I were to lose all perspective and sign up for scifibigbang, I should write:

View Answers

The one with the zero-gravity Olympics.
7 (31.8%)

The one where the prince gets talked into being figurehead for the princesses' girl-power revolution, and there are scimitar cats, magic swords, and a lot of plot-relevant discussion of fashion.
7 (31.8%)

Fanfic. Duh.
4 (18.2%)

You know better than to sign up for a big bang.
4 (18.2%)

Some scraps of things.

no subject