tabaqui: (avengerswintersoldierbyfamira)
[personal profile] tabaqui
Hullo!

Well, it's finally autumn-like out here. Trees mostly bare, windy, some rain and *cold*. Cold enough to make sweaters and gloves feel good, to make me turn up the electric blanket and to put woodsmoke in the air. Lovely!

And I've just posted the second, Bucky POV to 'Trap-Neuter-Release'. More cats and more flirting! AO3 only, since the other part is over there only, as well.

As always - thank you, dear [livejournal.com profile] darkhavens for all your beta help and general cheerleading. :)

Expect to be Scratched.

stuff done: Wednesday-Friday

Dec. 2nd, 2016 10:58 pm
edenfalling: stylized black-and-white line art of a sunset over water (Default)
[personal profile] edenfalling
1. Took (and passed) the exam for Tuesday's Not the IRS continuing education course, go me!

2. Brought old newspapers home from the rental office to use in a project I am doing that will become Mom's Christmas present (or maybe her birthday present; we'll see how labor-intensive it winds up being).

more items under the cut )

12. Wrote thirteen Three Sentence Ficathon fills. (Okay, technically two of those were on Tuesday, but whatever, I only mentioned one of them in my last 'stuff done' post so I am using this post to make an accurate count of my productivity thus far for the entire ficathon.)
edenfalling: headshot of a raccoon, looking left (raccoon)
[personal profile] edenfalling
For reasons that don't need exploring at this juncture, I was reading through some of my old journal entries and I came across the following comment of mine, which I am going to quote here in slightly truncated and edited form:

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Yeah, that weird cultural sex-is-worse-than-violence skew is one of my main reasons for considering ratings pointless. The other is that those ratings are aimed at an audiovisual medium, and are therefore maladapted for a textual medium. Like, if I show you a clip of a person shooting someone else point blank in the head, that's pretty gory and upsetting and should presumably get a relatively high rating. But I can write something like this:

-----

"So be a good girl, and drop the gun." Joe smirked again, like he had every option closed off and she had no choice except to play along.

Leah shot him, point blank, and threw up her arms to ward off the backspatter of blood and other things. Then she hurled herself into the cover of the overturned minivan and hoped Fatima would have time to run before Joe's goons inevitably killed her.


-----

and move blithely along giving you no further details, and while that's not a nice scene, it's not so graphic that I feel a need to slap a huge warning on the fic as a whole if that's the worst thing that happens. Ditto sex: showing our heroines from the previous snippet getting hot and heavy onscreen is a lot different from saying:

-----

Leah and Fatima fell onto the sheets, fingers slipping on buttons and zippers in their haste to pull off each other's clothes and press skin to skin in desperate confirmation that they were still alive.

"Oh god," Leah panted into Fatima's shoulder, between sloppy, open-mouthed kisses against the crook of her neck, "I thought I'd lost you, I thought--"

"I know," Fatima said. "I know. But you didn't," and her hand finally slipped under the waistband of Leah's jeans and pressed up against the damp cotton of Leah's panties.

Leah sobbed with relief and did her best to reciprocate the favor.


-----

and then cutting the scene and jumping to next morning. You know? Like, that little snippet is not something parents would necessarily want preteen kids reading, but it's hardly what I'd call graphic, not to mention that it's really easy to skim past text in a way one can't replicate with audiovisual media.

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I suddenly have an intense need to read the rest of the story that connects those two excerpts. Alas, it does not currently exist and probably won't ever exist unless I write it. Perhaps in 2017...

I can has light!

Dec. 2nd, 2016 04:35 pm
edenfalling: stained-glass butterfly in a purple frame (butterfly)
[personal profile] edenfalling
Landlord Dude arrived at 10am, looked at the light, said words to the general effect of 'yeah, that's about what I expected,' opened the fixture with great struggle (it is not quite properly aligned, somehow), extracted one bulb for comparison shopping purposes, drove off to the local specialty lighting store (yes, there is such a thing), came back and installed the newly purchased replacement bulbs, and closed up the fixture with more struggle.

Meanwhile I raked four bags of leaves from the back yard and driveway, which he duly loaded into his truck and took home to mulch his garden.

Success all around, I'd say. :)
edenfalling: headshot of a raccoon, looking left (raccoon)
[personal profile] edenfalling
As always, here is the link to the current ficathon. Come make and fill prompts! The more people who play, the more fun for everyone (and the more chance you'll find fandoms that interest you). :D

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5. ) For [livejournal.com profile] silvr_dagger: Any, any, siren song, written 11/30/16

madly, deeply (150 words)

Foggy wonders, sometimes, if he was born with wax in his metaphorical ears, something that keeps him from hearing the siren songs that rule his best friends' lives: justice, vengeance, unvarnished truth, a million other shades of poison. He doesn't feel it's a flaw -- anyone who claims to welcome the disasters and heartache that Matt and Karen's respective obsessions lead them into is both crazy and lying -- but now and then he looks at his normal ambitions and modestly comfortable life and wonders if he's missing some kind of high (personal, social, whatever) along with the obvious lows, because his friends have made it abundantly clear that some vital spark in their hearts will wither and die unless they're free to dive headfirst into the treacherous waters they love.

He just wishes he could teach them to find joy on the steady shore (in safety, with him) instead.

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6. ) For [livejournal.com profile] deceivepolyps: great (misfire prompt), written 11/30/16

on the internet, nobody can do your emotional labor for you (200 words)

"Jaaaaaade," Dave drawled as he leaned against the back of the sofa, draping his arms over Jade's shoulders and resting his chin on her head, "I demand clarification of your response to my dinner invitation extravaganza; what do you mean by just writing 'great' without any context; don't you know you're not supposed to leave your words naked; they need punctuation and emojis to create the illusion of tone save me from having to do hard emotional interpretation labor; I'm no good at emotional labor, Jade, have pity."

"Nobody's good at emotional labor when they start out, but I learned how to interpret your writing without punctuation and emojis," Jade said cheerfully, a faint green light beginning to limn her form in warning of imminent teleportation; "Suck it up and deal, mister, or Karkat and I will go on our own private dinner date extravaganza while you loll around in abject despair over your inability to take words at face value."

"Great," Dave said into the minor rush of air that accompanied her departure, "real smooth, genius; you oughta borrow Jane's fedora for that move," and resigned himself to Karkat's inevitable laughter when Jade pulled the story out over dessert.

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7. ) For [livejournal.com profile] recessivejean: The Enchanted Forest Chronicles, Cimorene (& anyone), unnecessarily complicated walk in the woods, written 11/30/16

a real magic (225 words)

"Mendanbar, I don't mean to interrupt, but the forest does know I'm only a member of the royal family by marriage, and therefore unable to handle big problems by waving my hands and wishing very hard, right?"

Mendanbar glanced briefly up from the accounts he was reviewing (under orders from Cimorene, which he had protested mostly for show; he was perfectly well aware they were important, and anyway reviewing accounts someone else had drawn up was much less frustrating than trying to create them himself), smiled, returned to his papers... and then looked back properly at the train of princesses, knights, talking animals, and various other complications that had somehow found his wife on what was meant to be a short walk to see the spiral dance of levitating boulders that an artistically inclined witch had spelled into place two hundred years ago, and had then followed her back to the castle (incidentally tramping mud all through the corridors; Willin was going to pitch a fit).

"I think the forest may be throwing problems at you because it knows you have the common sense to solve them instead of waving your hands and wishing them away," Mendanbar said, wryly, as he rose to help sort out the inevitable chaos, "but I'll have a word with the sword tomorrow and we'll see if that helps."

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8. ) For [livejournal.com profile] celeste9: MCU, Clint/Natasha/Laura, whatever works, written 11/30/16

just as long as we're together (225 words)

"I am so sorry, Nat," Laura said as she stared at the charred ruins of the turkey; "I wanted to give you a perfect introduction to American holiday traditions, but apparently I should have spent more time bugging my mom in the kitchen than bugging my dad in the garage when I was a kid, since apparently cooking is not nearly as close to engineering as baking is."

Clint dropped a cheer-up kiss on her forehead and heaved the useless, smoking avian corpse into the sink; "The pie's still fine," he said, "and there's always takeout Chinese, which is actually more traditional in my family than any fancy home-cooked meal."

Natasha's kiss landed on Laura's nose, then slid teasingly down just to the corner of her mouth before Nat pulled back with a smile and said, "I've eaten turkey -- my trainers were very thorough about cultural details -- and while I appreciate the effort, I have to say I'd prefer egg rolls."

Laura sighed and let her husband and lover pull her toward the basket of takeout menus that sat in mocking splendor at the end of her kitchen counter; probably this disaster had always been inevitable, and if nothing else she'd have a funny story to tell someday (in carefully redacted form), but in the meantime, she had an argument over appropriate spice levels to mediate.

-----

Note: Yes, I know that one is four sentences. Shush.

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9. ) For [livejournal.com profile] mermaids_feet: Hamilton, Alexander Hamilton/Any, Bachelor AU, written 12/1/16

would smell as sweet (125 words)

"I'm not supposed to warn you, Alex, but I care too much to make you be gracious extemporaneously," Angelica murmured into Alexander's ear, the wild curls of her hair disguising the movement of her lips from the ever-present cameras; "I'm going to give John Church my last rose tonight instead of you -- and don't try to change my mind, because I have something so much better in store for you."

For once wordless, Alexander could only hope she correctly interpreted the code of his eyelashes as he blinked away his disappointment and confusion.

He shouldn't have worried; they were in sync as always, though equally as always, Angelica managed to surprise him when she said, between another series of kisses, "Let me tell you about my sister Eliza."

-----

Note: The Bachelorette is functionally the same idea, right...? :)

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10. ) For [livejournal.com profile] silvr_dagger: Any, any, sunlight and shadow, written 12/2/16

under a bushel (125 words)

Eliza would say she's spent her life in shadows, effortless outshined by first Angelica and then Alexander as they stride forth in the strength of their convictions. They try to convince her otherwise, tell her again and again that she's the sun itself that brings light into their worlds and lets them flourish unafraid, but the sun, she thinks, should be bold and free and effortlessly visible in the world, not happily veiled and distracted by the curtains and concerns of her domestic life.

When they die, first Alexander and then Angelica, Eliza clothes herself in black, but instead of dousing her light she throws open all her windows and doors and begins to shine for the world as she always shone in their eyes.

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Eventually I will get these up on AO3.

ugh, life

Dec. 1st, 2016 09:14 pm
edenfalling: stylized black-and-white line art of a sunset over water (Default)
[personal profile] edenfalling
When I got home from work this evening, my main kitchen light refused to work. Goddammit.

It's still kinda-sorta turning on, but it's dim, it's flickery, it makes a really loud and aggravating noise, and it won't fix those problems when I knock the casing with a dustmop, which has always worked in the past when that light glitches out. I am temporarily getting by (for very poor values of getting by) with my dim-ass secondary kitchen light (single bulb), my bathroom light, and my stove vent light, but that is not in any way a satisfactory or sustainable workaround.

So I texted Landlord Dude, and he is coming over around 9:30am Friday morning to fix the main light.

I also sort of set up an agreement where I will rake more leaves tomorrow and set the bags in the front yard for him to use as mulch on his garden, since the city's yard waste pickup service ended on Nov. 30 and won't start again until April. (I unilaterally give myself a small rent reduction in return for doing what ought to be Landlord Dude's yardwork obligations. He has not yet complained, so I think we're cool on that front.)
edenfalling: headshot of a raccoon, looking left (raccoon)
[personal profile] edenfalling
Two of these are actually from the previous iteration of the ficathon, which I apparently neglected to ever post to my journal. Oops?

Anyway, here is the link to the current ficathon if you want to play too. :D

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25. ) For [personal profile] syrena_of_the_lake: Any, any, everything outside us is mad as the mist and snow, written 1/18/16

battle magic (250 words)

"The trouble with magic," Edith said, studying the penciled reports of King Feyraud's current position with an absent frown, "and by 'trouble' I mean the reason it's so inefficient, is that it has no system. Every magician has a different center, which means there isn't any way to generalize from one to another. And that means people who try to turn magic into a rational field of study or practice end up writing treatises of rather dodgy philosophy and dictionaries of ingredients and spells that won't work for anyone but their creators, instead of something useful like a maths textbook or an engineering manual. So yes, I know some battle magic, but that doesn't mean anything in practical terms since none of what I've read will work for me. Especially not Jadis's spells."

"That is very interesting and I'd love to hear more once we're back at Cair Paravel," Mary said, "but at the moment I only need to know if you can do something both large and subtle enough with your shadows to keep the Sarovencian sentries from noticing the raiding party I plan to lead across the river this evening."

Edith lifted her eyes from her contemplation of the map. "Oh, is that all? I can't do it from here, but if I'm with the party, that shouldn't be a problem. It might even be fun." Her hand dropped to the stone knife at her belt, and Mary felt a moment of sympathy for the unsuspecting Sarovencians as her sister smiled.

-----

Note: This wound up as a tiny installment in As the Morning and the Night, my genderswapped Pevensies AU. King Feyraud of Sarovence is an OC ruler of a mountain country near Archenland who has a tenuous blood relation to the old Narnian royal family; he attempts to claim Narnia by conquest both in this AU and in my normal timeline.

I consider this ficlet non-canonical (for the AU) in its fine details, but I intend to rework it into a proper story someday.


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26. ) For [livejournal.com profile] killing_kurare: Any, Any, You must have made some kind of mistake // I asked for death, but instead I'm awake, written 2/29/16

the seer and the light (150 words)

She rises out of the Green Sun, shedding plasma in her wake, and for a moment everything is gloriously, impossibly clear: all the paths of fortune laid out in terrible, shining simplicity to the end of all possible universes. Then it occurs to Rose that sight implies someone to do the seeing, just as paths imply someone to travel them, which implies that she exists, which implies that she isn't done, and her enlightenment begins to fade.

She buries that thought with practiced skill, but buried isn't quite the same as gone and she retains just enough memory of future choices to know that she'll chase that taste of oblivion in other ways -- the same way she's spent her whole life chasing the void where her mother's love should be -- and despite the ruin down that road, she already knows she won't manage to (won't want to) make herself stop.

-----

Note: Homestuck, obviously. :)

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1. ) For [livejournal.com profile] notoriousreign: MCU, Laura Barton/Clint Barton, vacation, written 11/29/16

to get away from it all (175 words)

Once Laura got Clint past the urge to rehang the door of their very swanky hotel suite, and made him call in a tip to SHIELD about the suspicious behavior of the front desk clerk and two of the cleaning staff instead of pursuing the people himself, he settled fairly well into relaxation: his only stipulation that she try either scuba diving or surfing before they headed back north.

"I never really appreciated how fun doing nothing could be, before," he said, breath tickling along the curve of her ear as she lounged on a beach towel and basked in the sun and the pressure of his strong, callused fingers rubbing sunblock into her shoulders and down the hollow of her spine; "Maybe I just needed the right beautiful woman as my partner and mission coordinator."

"I'm telling Nat you said that, and getting Maria to record the resulting carnage," Laura murmured sleepily into the cradle of her folded arms, and smiled to herself at a job well done when Clint stopped his massage to laugh.

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2. ) For [livejournal.com profile] hanorganaas: Star Wars, Han/Leia, Passionate, written 11/29/16

the ruling passion conquers reason still (175 words)

They never stop loving each other; that's not the problem.

It is, however, a symptom of the problem, because the same passion that fuels their connection -- that makes them fight the whole galaxy when it would keep them apart -- drives them in all things, and what they want (besides each other's embrace, and Luke safe, and Vader and the Emperor dead) is fundamentally incompatible; Han will chew off his own legs to win freedom for himself while Leia will bind her entire self into service to win freedom for everyone else, and neither is willing to give in any more than they could possibly let go.

They love each other from a distance, then -- a comet swinging around a sun to spell glory or disaster, a meteor shower burning up in the atmosphere of the planet it can't escape, a pair of unstable stars perturbing each other into massive solar flares -- and each takes comfort knowing the other is out somewhere in the void, burning with a flame as unquenchable as their own.

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3. ) For [livejournal.com profile] adamas: Daredevil; Ensemble or Matt Murdock/Any; teaching how to see without sight, written 11/30/16

absence makes (275 words)

After Karen banged and tripped her way across what felt like miles of treacherous floor and furniture, Matt guided her (both of them still laughing) to his couch and said, "Maybe we should start with something simpler, or at least something that keeps you in one place and doesn't split your focus so much."

"Oh?" Karen said, and immediately wanted to kick herself for the breathless inanity of the word and her tone of voice, and then wanted to kick herself again for the way the jump in her heartbeat and the flush of heat across her cheeks (just kissing the edge of Matt's old mask, pulled low over her eyes) might have given Matt the idea that she was upset at him instead of mildly annoyed at herself and how much this was turning her on.

"Yeah, just, I'm going to hold my hand near some part of your body so you can feel the heat and air displacement -- because nobody's ever completely still -- and see if you can reach out and touch my hand with your own: no guessing," Matt said, sliding one hand through the loose tendrils of her hair as he spoke, in a slow, tender gesture of farewell before he shifted his weight off the couch and left Karen's skin tingling at the suddenly untenable lack of his touch... and she wondered, not for the first time but with more force than ever before, how he could possibly stand to live this way -- all his nerves raw, exposed, and hungry -- because despite the blackness that (temporarily, voluntarily) shrouded her world, she had never been more conscious of his body in her life.

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4. ) For [livejournal.com profile] silvr_dagger: Star Trek TOS or AOS, T'Pring/Uhura, a logical arrangement, written 11/30/16

no diplomacy like candor (250 words)

"He must contribute his genes toward the continuation of our species; he requires an advocate to navigate our people's internal politics in his name and that of his family; and he needs my control to lean on when his own fails, as I am sure you can attest it has done at inopportune moments," T'Pring said, somehow managing to make Spock and Nyota's shared bed and cabin look like a throne in an audience chamber, a domain entirely within her own control rather than someone else's home she had entered without invitation.

"All logical arguments," Nyota said, and left the implicit 'so far as they go, which isn't very' hanging in the tone of her voice, the position of her eyebrows, and the faint roughness at the end of the final word as if she'd been about to lead into another phrase.

T'Pring smiled, as shocking and unexpected as rain in the desert, and said, "A most elegant turn of phrase and a true display of cross-species linguistic mastery, though if you had spoken so to me in another world, I might have challenged you to kal-if-fee for your presumption at standing between me and my betrothed; in this one, however, necessity and loss have taught me the art of compromise, and I think that any person Spock would choose to bind himself to is one I might equally choose for myself, for mind, for soul, and for body -- and most particularly, in matters of the body, for your talented tongue."

-----

Note: I went with AOS. :)

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Part two coming tomorrow, maybe...

stuff done: Monday-Tuesday

Nov. 29th, 2016 10:19 pm
edenfalling: stylized black-and-white line art of a sunset over water (Default)
[personal profile] edenfalling
1. Finished my Not the IRS paid skills training (...for now).

2. Made two political activism phone calls. Granted, this only involved leaving messages on answering machines, but still. I dislike calling strangers on the phone as myself. Making phone calls as Employee of Company X is a different issue. That's a role; it's impersonal. I can also make phone calls to schedule appointments (both medical and job interviews), because again, those are roles with a set script and I've been through that scenario dozens of times before so I know, viscerally, that everything will be fine. Politics is an inherently higher-emotion thing, plus there's unfamiliarity, so making these calls is a more spoon-intensive proposition. I will probably try to make another one or two on Friday, though, because one does what one can and what I have to give right now is time rather than money.

more items under the cut )

15. Wrote one fill (to get away from it all, MCU, Laura Barton/Clint Barton) for this year's Three Sentence Ficathon before heading out to my tax course tonight. This is the first proper piece of fiction I've written since the NFE at the very beginning of September.

(Let me clarify that. I consider my tiny comment!ficlets from an October meme response more of a meta post with examples than any kind of functional story, and the few hundred words I've attempted toward a Cotton Candy Bingo prompt fill haven't gone much of anywhere since I got that prompt in August, so. Like I said, the first proper writing I've done in nearly two months.)

I burned out pretty badly earlier this year, creatively speaking. Actually, I probably burned out in late 2015, but I kept walking on broken legs for quite some time. Eventually, though, I realized that attempting to shove through was doing me more harm than good, and (with gritted teeth and a bunch of lectures on how this wasn't being irresponsible and lazy and useless) gave myself permission to take a fucking break until writing no longer felt like a dreaded chore.

Writing started to feel thinkable again a couple weeks ago, but until today I'd only managed some speculative outlining for Yuletide and the Daredevil Secret Santa exchange (which is going to be a bitch and a half, because my recipient wants big, emotional, tropey genre romance fics and what I am capable of writing is... not that *wince*) and the aforementioned unproductive noodling for the CCB prompt fill. So it feels really good to dip my toe back into the pool.

I am not sure how many more prompt fills I'll manage for this iteration of the ficathon, but what the hell, anything beyond that first one is gravy. :)

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