that sweet, sad thought has faded now

FRIENDING POLICY

I am friend free. You want to give me access or subscribe? Go right ahead. If I think you're interesting or that we share interests or, I dunno, if it's the third Tuesday of the month and the sky has miraculously turned green, I will return the favor.

REQUEST POLICY

My actual policy is over here. In summary, REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS OPEN.

WARNINGS

ONE: In this journal you will find a crazed Final Fantasy fan. I can honestly say I've played at least an hour of all of them and all the way through most of them. I've been in Final Fantasy VII fandom since before Advent Children. I will be quite honest: not much pisses me off more than someone claiming to be a fan of FFVII who hasn't played the original game, and if you write fic, yes, I judge you. (Yeah, I went there.)

TWO: My interests go like this: YURI > HET > > > YAOI. I don't empathize well with men and male bodies really don't interest me. I have a total of exactly four slash pairings and do not generally seek out slash. Final Fantasy slash especially is just... boring to me.

THREE: Hard-line feminist toeing the line of misandry. Not gonna lie: I border on radical feminism and I Do Not Like Men. I have my reasons. Go ahead and ask, if you want to know. I'm not sensitive about the topic.

misao; she's hither and thither again

misao/aoshi; relishing the silk she can touch and wishing for the skin she can't

rikku; it's like kissing a sunbeam

rikku; caught watching her spin with a smile on her face

FF_Fortnightly: Edea: "Cleaning up the mess"

atoning for her treatment of Seifer?

FF_Fortnightly: Lulu: "Cleaning up the mess"

fixing the scrapes, the cuts, the scraps, the mistakes

FF_Fortnightly: Shera: "Cleaning up the mess"

fixing everything from engine grease to bad math

FF_Fortnightly: Biggs, Wedge, Jessie: "Heat"

deathfic

FF_Fortnightly: Auron: "Heat"

does he feel warmth as an undead dude

So, apparently, I won a Genesis Award? "Burnt Offerings" took Best Crossover.

Go, "Burnt Offerings!" Go crazy little story, go! And, uh, thank you GA people? I guess I needed a reminder that it existed.

It's five, nearly six in the morning and I'm wide awake. Yaaaaaaaaaay sleep deprivation.

In other news, TDK gets harder and harder to watch every time I try, because it fucking bugs me that the truth about Rachel is somehow subservient to what Bruce needs to believe despite the fact that his parents were killed when he was young, so he knows we don't often get what we want out of life. Why do we so rarely ask men to put on their big boy underpants and deal with shit as it actually is? Plus I hate the last five minutes of the movie, with the stupid anvilicious conversation with Bruce and Gordon and blah blah blah stop it.

(Just for the record, I don't even like Rachel.)

Made a journal for the Enishi muse, so I can play him over in kenshindressing: fa_ru_xue. Icons available over here. I had a lot of fun with the keywords. I think it shows.

Yeah, one of those icons was very nearly "top ten signs the boy ain't right," but wound up becoming something else instead. /grins

1. No sleep.
2. No doctor to refill sleeping meds.
3. Kuro's girlfriend has three kittens in our storage shed. They're fucking teeny but their eyes are open and their ears are up. So I guess I know what I'm going to staring at and socializing until they're old enough to be taken off to the WalMart and given away. They're also cute. I am not tempted to keep one. I'm not. Totally. Why on earth. I HATE AND JUDGE THEIR MOTHER.
4. Still do not like green tea. Do not know why I gave into the urge to make myself some.
5. Feel horribly unproductive in everything.

Fuck it all. I'm just going to go watch Eddie Izzard.

At least I killed a wasp with Windex. Die choking in paralysis, wasp, so I don't have to have an allergic reaction.

I feel the strangest urge to write comfort/protection fic with the theme "I'll keep the fire lit until morning."

Halp. Who do I even write that for.

Connection crapping out on me. Tired. Going to bed.

1. A great Jezebel Link about some of the protests going on Iran. Here's one about the hijab struggle. And let's have "Liveweeting the revolution," a must read.

2. In need of some more things to think about? This unsettles me. False accusations of groping, seriously? Yeah, women just love to accuse men of things they didn't do; that's why sexual assault and harassment are so under-reported! While we're on the topic of feminism, let's talk about "pregnancy crisis counseling" centers that are really "don't have an abortion" centers. And, while I hold nothing but respect for Obama's position on Iran, it'd be nice if he gave more of a damn about some of us back home. (Late to the party on that last one, but.)

3. I really want some pho bo. It'd be nice if I had money. I'd go eat some. Mmm, Vietnamese.

4. At Greenlife, they sell green-tea flavored ice cream. It's the only place I've ever been able to get any in quantity and I really want to go back and buy a bunch, but A) oh god no not Greenlife and B) I am not driving to Chattanooga to buy something that will melt.

5. So I dreamed about C&C last night. I dreamed that Misao was making matcha-mochi daifuku with cherry-flavored ice cream as a filling. Where it got really interesting? She was using homemade vanilla ice cream with a cherry liqueur thrown in... which sounds tasty to me, actually. Now I kind of want to make it, and boy was the dream process doin' it wrong. (So now I'm tempted to go haring off to the Asian Market down in Chattanooga as soon as I have some money so I can buy rice flour and matcha powder.)

Tagged by iamsosmart.

( Read more... )

From This comment, a quote by the director:

Is there one particular way that they’ve influenced you that you can recall?

I think pushing me to be bolder actually, pushing me to be scarier, even when George was, in the beginning, six years old. The main way they pushed is that I wanted to make sure there was stuff for boys in the movie. It’s called Coraline and there’s that tradition wherein Hollywood thinks boys won’t go to a girls film. But after Twilight and Juno I think things have changed.

And that's one of the reasons Wybie was included. I could just tear my hair out.

01
Something from an NPC's point of view- an ordinary citizen, a criminal, maybe an outsider to the City- about the Ported and the stuff that's happened in the City since they began arriving.

05
I'd really love to see the continuation of Spock and Misao at a Japanese restaurant. :3

06
Fred/Daphne (as in Scooby Doo); idk. Ascots. :D

07
Yuugi + the other Yuugi -- All night video games?

the "who do you ship me with?" meme!

---

In other news, Si has been home for two days now. I've hardly left my room since his arrival. We decided to keep him in the house so he couldn't try to get his damnfool self killed again, and it's easiest to make sure he's not doing naughty things if I keep him in my room.

One the one hand, I don't mind because A) it keeps Si out of trouble and uninjured and B) now I have access to Rick's laptop. On the other, my walls are really boring. I need to bring back my other Hellsing posters.

The swelling in his cheek and jaw have gone completely down. I'm taking advantage of his drugged-up state to remind him who's boss. We're working on his commands and his habit of thinking he runs the universe.

(Also, typewriter noises are still better than tickeybox.)

Title: Costa Del Sol
Summary: Yuffie and Vincent just don't stop arguing. It's a damn miracle he hasn't transformed in the field, yet... or is it? (Early Materials AU)
Notes: I said I'd wait to write it until I got more done on Catch Me, and I've gotten some stuff done on Catch me, so it was time.
Wordcount: ~550

( Costa Del Sol )

So. It can't possibly be only three in the afternoon. It's too early to drink at three in the afternoon. It needs to be closer to five.

I really fucking need one, though. Si started yet more shit today. Having Si and Yellar around each other is just not going to work. Yellar pounced on him, slapped him around, and made loud noises on top of his head, but they managed to re-open the scrape to Si's cheek, so his jaw started swelling up.

I took him to the vet. They'll sedate him, shave that side of his face, and give him some anti-inflammatory meds.

My mood's gone straight to hell, though, and it won't be out of the shitter until I have him back with me.

Plus five children, all thirteen and under, have now arrived to complicate the situation further. It'll be a goddamned miracle if I don't kill something.

If someone could please keep me from fucking killing my mother, that would be nice. While killing my mother would make my life slightly more peaceful in the short-term, I would end up in prison.

So, today's story? I come home from an evening with Dad in which I have been constantly fending off touches and just basically waiting for things to go wrong. (They didn't go wrong.) Then I get home and my mother wants to start up a conversation about how it's wrong of me to hate Christianity.

She blames the internet (or, as she calls it, "that fucking box") for my lack of faith.

I'll just... be over here, massaging my temples.

Notes: this thing is hideously incomplete and feels like Johnny Truant of House of Leaves and I'm not sure how much sense it makes. Feel free to poke at it.

---

A Tea Party With My Shadow

( I blame the fact that it happened at all on the idea that it could happen, which I blame on a good friend who shares my name but isn't actually related to me. )

Halp halp the Gaiman homage is turning into an expy of Johnny Truant!

It's 2 AM. I've had enough Tylenol PM to knock out a horse (not what I usually use, so even though I'm awake, I'm still fuzzy, and I'm probably going to be hung over when I "wake up").

I started on a piece of Aoshi dream sequence weirdness that currently involves the memory of a toddler Misao crying back when they first met her and also plenty of other things.

I feel dissociated from myself. Physically, I mean. Not quite like my brain is made of cotton. There's a bit of a Ketamine sense of lag, if you get what I'm saying. Not quite as bad as actual Ketamine lag, but definitely there. I'm the kind of tired that spells "any" as "anyway" and doesn't quite catch it. My brain's moving a little sluggish but my body can't quite keep up.

What should have been a dream sequence in which Aoshi has tea with his evil shadow in order to prevent Weasel theft (really, as with all my bizarre supposedly genius ideas, the blame rests squarely with leviathanmirror) has decided that this scene would work quite nicely in an original Gaiman homage. Thank $DEITY for WriteMonkey.

(Quick note: Porn set to "Secret Agent Man". *whipcrack* Hop to it, Katie!)

---

So there's this Vietnamese restaurant about three miles from my house. I've gotten halfway addicted to it because it is tasty. (Then again, I just love Vietnamese food.) I wish I could have gone with Brian yesterday while he was here, but we went to Peking House instead. Curry beef makes us happy.

So, yesterday we watched the entirety of the Star Wars original trilogy. We spent as much time humming along with the Imperial March and commenting on who lived, who died, and how EU fit in as we did making fun of it.

I've missed him. I'm missing him right now. (I'm also worrying about him, but he's driving from TN to Michigan, so.)

---

In other news, I dreamed last night that Ralph was moving to Tallahassee to be with Marge (his most recent girlfriend) because she was pregnant with his kid. This is bizarre for multiple reasons.... the chief of them being that Marge is about sixty years old. I seriously doubt she is capable of getting pregnant anymore.

Another reason this dream is bizarre? I don't really care what he does, where or with whom he does it, or why. Marge especially falls into my "do not care" area. I actually rather approve of her (god knows she's a damn sight better than Christie, because Christie did my grandmother's hair for the funeral).

I keep surprising myself with how weird I am.

---

Also, this recently came to my attention.

Dear you,

Count. Dracula. Doesn't. Sparkle. You picked the wrong vampire - try again.
Thanks for the attention, and have a sparkly good day.

My fury knows no bounds. I want to hold Stephanie Meyer personally responsible for the existence of whatever inspired this rant. I want to hold her responsible with fire.

THE ANONYMOUS WRITING FEEDBACK MEME

---

Downloaded WriteMonkey. All I can say is: typewriter noises are better than tickybox! They're almost better than in-jokes! (They're not even close to being better than the in-jokes about Aoshi and his weasel, though.)

The 60's Olympia sound pack makes me want to kiss my screen. And my keyboard.

---

Goddddd, why do I have this addiction to Yuffie/Tifa? I mean, apart from the fact that it's awesome, what is the source of this crazy kick?

---

So, "Eight Portraits of a Lady" is proving slightly more popular than I expected it to. It's funny; I wrote the entire thing in two sittings, just scrawled it out like it didn't mean anything at all. leviathanmirror beta'd it.

And people are apparently recommending it as good tragedy? ("Genuflected" is better, in my opinion, mostly because nobody seems to understand that it is tragedy. That relationship is not remotely okay.)