Heat and vanity

May. 28th, 2017 04:29 pm
rmc28: Rachel smiling against background of trees, with newly-cut short hair (Default)
[personal profile] rmc28
The temperature went over 20 degrees C this week, at which point I discovered all the things in my wardrobe that aren't really suitable for hot weather. One of my favourite Svaha dresses is too lowcut for me to wear without something underneath, unless I can figure out some kind of insert to the neckline. (Or possibly go to a professional alterations place and get them to do so.)  Another of my staple dresses (from Evans) is beginning to wear out. I have had a spendy month and ordered a bunch more Svaha dresses, which will turn up at some point when shipping and customs get around to it.

cut for mention of weight + body image )

The weather also prompted me to actually get my hair cut.  It was getting increasingly shaggy and annoying me; while it was just long enough to tie up off my neck, I really wanted to get it tidier.  The post-chemo curls were also a constant reminder of having had chemo. The more recent growth seemed straighter, but I wasn't sure if it was just being pulled straight by the weight of hair below.  Spoiler: nope, my hair seems to be straight again (photos at Twitter).  I am quietly delighted and enjoying having my hair back again.

(I promptly spoiled the lovely blow-dried effect by letting C persuade me to go swimming yesterday afternoon, but my hair seems to still be straight.  Woohoo.)

(no subject)

May. 28th, 2017 09:33 am
oursin: Brush the Wandering Hedgehog by the fire (Default)
[personal profile] oursin
Happy birthday, [personal profile] genarti and [personal profile] green_knight!

Squirrel Cuteness

May. 28th, 2017 09:19 am
fadedwings: a camera and a heart (Default)
[personal profile] fadedwings posting in [community profile] common_nature
Squirrel from my New England backyard...

Mother's Day

May. 28th, 2017 02:02 pm
crimsoncorundum: (Default)
[personal profile] crimsoncorundum
Today it's Mother's Day in Sweden, and since I have a mother and I am a mother, I thought I'd write a post about that. I'd also like to mention my dad, who is no longer with us, and my grandfather who left us even earlier, but I think I'll save that for Father's Day even if it makes me sad thinking about all those who are no longer with us.

So, today I'd like to remember and thank all the wonderful women in my family who are mostly no longer with us. Some were mothers, some wanted to be but weren't.

Thank you aunt G, who was such a wonderful aunt and who had a fascinating and varied life, despite claims to the contrary. Thank you great-aunts S, M, M, A and the two E:s, for being such kind and thoughtful aunts. I'd also like to mention 'aunt' E (another E) who I never got to meet, but who according to my mom was a really funny, cheerful and inspiring woman, despite a very difficult life.
Then there's my maternal grandmother S, who I resemble a lot. I can still hear your voice in my head and I know what you would have thought or said about all kinds of things in every day life.

Also, my mom who is still alive and well and living with us. You were a wonderful mom when my sister and I were children. We've all had a difficult life and you may be a touch grumpy and harsh these days, but I can understand why.

I'd also like to thank my sister G who is not a mother yet, but hopefully will be soon. You're my best friend and my role model. I admire you so much. This family would be nothing without you.

Finally, I'd also like to thank my children P and S for letting me be their mom. You've made all the difference in the world.

Thank you, all of you wonderful women in my family, including my mother's grandmothers and everyone who came before them, and also, thank you, my unknown paternal grandmother who gave us our dad, even though we know nothing else about you. I love you all.

Sunday morning gratitudes

May. 28th, 2017 07:56 am
kass: A glass of iced coffee with milk. (coffee)
[personal profile] kass
There's a lot that's hard right now. So I'm doing what I can to cultivate gratitude:

1. Iced coffee. Turkey bacon. Challah french toast.

2. Cuddling with my kid yesterday and marathoning a bunch of Sword Art Online, which I enjoy as much as he does.

3. My kid is seven and a half today! On his suggestion, we're going to the grocery store later today to get cupcakes to share with friends later this afternoon.

4. Watching wee birds at my bird feeder, supping on seeds.

5. Friends. Including all of you.

Cat raid

May. 28th, 2017 07:48 am
madfilkentist: Photo of Carl (Default)
[personal profile] madfilkentist
My cats let me sleep late this morning. I should have known something was up.

When I went downstairs, the refrigerator was wide open. Scraps of paper were on the floor, which I quickly followed to the entirely empty remnants of a bad of cat food. Carl was, of course, still hungry.

I'd gone down during the night to get something from the refrigerator, and it's possible that being sleepy, I didn't close it tight again. But the refrigerator door is within a determined cat's ability to open. There's now a chair in front of the refrigerator.

QotD

May. 28th, 2017 05:24 am
dglenn: Me in kilt and poofy shirt, facing away, playing acoustic guitar behind head (Default)
[personal profile] dglenn

From the Quotation of the day mailing list, 2014-02-11:

"I operate under the principle that my computer is owned by at least three governments." -- Costin Raiu, computer security researcher

[ http://threatpost.com/the-internet-is-broken-act-accordingly/104141]

(submitted to the mailing list by Terry Labach)

Balticon

May. 28th, 2017 02:54 am
dglenn: Me in kilt and poofy shirt, facing away, playing acoustic guitar behind head (Default)
[personal profile] dglenn

I'm glad I took my piano to Balticon.
I'm glad I'm not bringing it with me tomorrow.

So much to be grateful for. So many to be grateful to. Which is another thing to be grateful for.

So much need of sleep.

dialecticdreamer: My work (Default)
[personal profile] dialecticdreamer
Outside Interference
by Dialecticdreamer/Sarah Williams
part 20 of 20
word count (story only): 1185


:: This story takes place the same day as “Insurance Salesmen,” picking up as Edwina arrives at work. Wrapping up the loose ends now includes several hooks for later stories, but the focus is on warmth and comfort. ::


:: Pay Special Attention: Warnings will be listed by chapter, with the proper spoiler-cover on the index page and listing all necessary warnings. In this chapter, plans are upended, but this is meant to be the 'abnormal routine' of the household. Any remaining plot hooks should be small curiosities, rather than gaping plot holes. ::


back to part nineteen
to the Voices of the Engines index
:: Thank you for reading! ::




It was the heady, smoky aroma of Leland's coffee that pulled Edwina out of sleep, out of bed, and into the spare set of clothes she had agreed to leave in the dresser of the room she had been given when she had first been hired. She dressed quickly, but had to leave her long braid swinging loose while she hunted through the bed clothes for the hair pins and single hair comb she had been too tired to remove the night before. She finger-combed her braid loose, then used the hair comb to smooth the few tangles out of her hair. Automatically, her hands worked the loose strands into another plait. She pinned it in place atop her head, smoothed a hand over the bun one last time before turning to leave the tidy attic bedroom.

By the time she stood at the top of the stairs down to the second story, she could smell honey and oats, bacon and oranges. Edwina's mouth watered as her feet whispered over the fine carpet runner.
Read more... )

First Fireflies

May. 27th, 2017 10:13 pm
ysabetwordsmith: Cartoon of me in Wordsmith persona (Default)
[personal profile] ysabetwordsmith
My partner Doug went outside and spotted the first fireflies of the season!  As it is well after dark, only a few are left flying high overhead.  Tomorrow we will have to look for them at dusk.  The weather is warm and damp, and we have copious grass, so there should be some.  :D

A good but tiring day

May. 27th, 2017 08:24 pm
oursin: Sleeping hedgehog (sleepy hedgehog)
[personal profile] oursin

Even though I had a reasonably decent night's sleep last night.

Good meetings with people and good conversations, some tasty food, a panel that (I think) went fairly well even though it was in the room I hate, with the speakers on a platform and a spread-out audience, and cold. (One might also mention the single microphone that had to be handed back and forth among the panel.)

Also managed to get to a couple of other panels.

Was contemplating the Tiptree Auction but felt some recharge time alone was necessitated, May go to the parties for a little while, but am already feeling a bit that what a hedjog wants is a nice cup of Horlicks and a Nice Book to go with it.

Math

May. 27th, 2017 07:46 pm
xtina: (Default)
[personal profile] xtina
I run into wacky math things while I play my pointless games.

Have some MATH. )

Saturday Yardening

May. 27th, 2017 06:24 pm
ysabetwordsmith: Cartoon of me in Wordsmith persona (Default)
[personal profile] ysabetwordsmith
Today we went to Champaign for shopping.  The weather was mostly cool and pleasant.  Now it is warm, damp, and full of bugs.  >_<

Round 1, I planted two wave petunias, one in a pot and one in the barrel garden; plus a packet of chive seeds in the septic garden. 

EDIT 5/27/17: Round 2, my partner Doug raked grass and I helped haul it away.

EDIT 5/27/17: Round 3, I trimmed grass around about half of the wildflower garden.

bzuh

18 May. 27th, 2017 04:59 pm

Everyone else is doing it-- links

May. 27th, 2017 04:28 pm
klgaffney: (Default)
[personal profile] klgaffney
Stashing the open tabs I still have open, days later, on my Nook, while I'm waiting for the new laptop hard drive to show up.

The Real Reasons For Marvel Comic's Woes | The Atlantic

Yup, this is every reason why I haven't brought a book from either of the Big Two in years. They haven't learned a damn thing since the nineties, and they love to blame their customers for their deficiencies. It's a shame, because this is such an amazing medium.

My Family's Slave | The Atlantic

The Phillipino-American writer's experiences being raised by their family house slave, Lola.

When Your Child Is A Psychopath | The Atlantic

There's a lot here about the work done by the Mendota Juvenile Treatment Center.

Scary Realities - Working With Actual Psychopaths | Cracked

Story about a neuroscientist who discovers he is a psychopath.

(..I don't remember why I followed this thread, to be honest. I have a lot of characters with atypical brain wirings, and a horrifically broken cluster-B-fuck deity, but nothing that fits the parameters of fullblown psychopathy in humans.)

I Don't Think The Words In Thessalonians 3:10 Mean What You Think They Mean

Twice, at Easter dinner, I heard the words "not my money" from the mouths of so-called Christians. I was already furious when Dad compounded the issue by stating "If you don't work, you don't eat." He couldn't show me the verse when I challenged him, so I looked it up myself. If they'd actually bothered to read the whole verse, it's pretty obvious that it's being misapplied. ANYWAY, I had to walk away before I ate their faces and ruined Easter, oh noes, leaving my husband the atheist to painstakingly remind my parents what Jesus requires of them. I doubt it did much good, but I appreciate him very much.

Anyway, linked, because I was amused by seeing another atheist running into and poking at this usage (and 2 more thoughts--1. Nice to have confirmation my parents didn't come up with it themselves, and 2. I'm thinking y'know the thing I like about w is he doesn't come at anyone with the presumption that he's somehow better/more evolved 'cause he didn't have the luxury of believing in something he saw no evidence of in his horrible crapsack life.). And also linked because there actually is some civil discussion and experience swapping in the comments and how often does that happen?

Swapping The Moon

Concept, process, and finished work. A ton of preperation went into this work, and it's flawless. Beautiful piece.

FMK # 2: Gothics!

May. 27th, 2017 12:22 pm
rachelmanija: (Books: old)
[personal profile] rachelmanija
How to play: Fling means I spend a single night of passion (or possibly passionate hatred) with the book, and write a review of it, or however much of it I managed to read. Marry means the book goes back on my shelves, to wait for me to get around to it. Kill is actually "sudden death" - I read a couple paragraphs or pages, then decide to donate or reshelf (or read) based on that. You don't have to have read or previously heard of the books to vote on them. Please feel free to explain your reasoning for your votes in comments.

Italics taken from the blurbs. Gothics have the best blurbs.

Poll #18418 FMK # 2: Houses Are Terrifying
Open to: Registered Users, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 38


Castle Barebane, by Joan Aiken. A series of lurid murders... a roofless ruin with crumbling battlements... nephew and niece callously abandoned in a slum... a man of mysterious origins and enigmatic habits... dark emanations from London's underworld... Mungo, an old sailor...

View Answers

Fling
18 (48.6%)

Marry
13 (35.1%)

Kill
6 (16.2%)

The Five-Minute Marriage, by Joan Aiken. An imposter has claimed her inheritance... a counterfeit marriage to the principle heir, her cousin... family rivalries festering for generations... a shocking episode of Cartaret family history will be repeated.

View Answers

Fling
23 (65.7%)

Marry
6 (17.1%)

Kill
6 (17.1%)

The Weeping Ash, by Joan Aiken. Sixteen-year-old Fanny Paget, newly married to the odious Captain Paget... in northern India, Scylla and Calormen Paget, twin cousins of the hateful Captain, have begun a seemingly impossible flight for their lives, pursued by a vengeful maharaja... elephant, camel, horse, raft... The writer has used her own two-hundred-year-old house in Sussex, England for the setting.

View Answers

Fling
13 (34.2%)

Marry
13 (34.2%)

Kill
12 (31.6%)

Winterwood, by Dorothy Eden. The moldering elegance of a decaying Venetian palazzo... pursued by memories of the scandalous trial that rocked London society... their daughter, Flora, crippled by a tragic accident... Charlotte's evil scheming... a series of letters in the deceased Lady Tameson's hand

View Answers

Fling
19 (55.9%)

Marry
3 (8.8%)

Kill
12 (35.3%)

The Place of Sapphires, by Florence Engel Randall. A demon-haunted house... two beautiful young sisters... the pain of a recent tragedy... a sinister and hateful force from the past... by the author of Hedgerow.

View Answers

Fling
17 (48.6%)

Marry
7 (20.0%)

Kill
11 (31.4%)

Shadow of the Past, by Daoma Winston. An unseen presence... fled to Devil's Dunes... strange "accidents..." it seemed insane... the threads of the mysterious, menacing net cast over her life... What invisible hand threatened destruction?

View Answers

Fling
11 (34.4%)

Marry
2 (6.2%)

Kill
19 (59.4%)

rachelmanija: (Books: old)
[personal profile] rachelmanija
The winner of FMK # 1! Alas, I did not fall madly in love with it, but I did enjoy it. FMK is definitely off to a good start, because God knows how long that book has languished unread on my shelves. I'm pretty sure at least five years and possibly ten. But I'm very glad I finally got to it.

Twelve-year-old Lucy returns to the small English village of Hagworthy, which she hasn’t visited since she was seven. There she stays with her aunt, reconnects with some childhood friends and finds that both she and they have changed, and looks on in growing alarm as the well-meaning but ignorant new vicar resurrects the ancient tradition of the Horn Dance, which is connected to the Wild Hunt.

The premise plus the opening sentences probably tell you everything you need to know about the book:

The train had stopped in a cutting, so steep that Lucy, staring through the window, could see the grassy slopes beyond captured in intense detail only a yard or two away: flowers, insects, patches of vivid red earth. She became intimate with this miniature landscape, alone with it in a sudden silence, and then the train jolted, oozed steam from somewhere beneath, and moved on between shoulders of Somerset hillside.

This is one of my favorite genres which sadly does not seem to exist any more, the subset of British children’s fantasy, usually set in small towns or villages, which focuses on atmosphere, beautiful prose, and capturing delicate moments in time. Character is secondary, plot is tertiary, and there may be very little action (though some have a lot); the magical aspects are often connected to folklore or ancient traditions, and may be subtle or questionable until the end.

You can see all those elements in those two sentences I quoted; the entire subgenre consists of inviting the reader to become intimate with minature landscapes.

This is obviously subjective and debatable, but I think of Alan Garner, Susan Cooper (especially Greenwitch), and Robert Westall as writers with books in this subgenre, but not Diana Wynne Jones. The settings are the sort parodied in Cold Comfort Farm. Hagworthy is full of darkly muttering villagers who kept making me think, “Beware, Robert Poste’s child!”

In The Wild Hunt of Hagworthy, Lucy’s parents are divorced, and her mother is now living in another country with a baby brother Lucy has never met. This is mentioned maybe two or three times, very briefly, which is interesting because so many books would make a much bigger deal of it. Lucy returns to Hagworthy for a vacation with her aunt, a botanist.

Of her childhood friends, the two girls have become horse-mad and have nothing in common with Lucy. The boy, Kester, is now a moody misfit teenager, and Lucy, who is also a bit of a moody misfit, becomes friends with him all over again. They wander around the countryside, fossil-hunting and stag-watching, periodically getting in fights over Kester’s refusal to discuss the thing hanging over the story, which is the new vicar’s revival of the Horn Dance to fundraise at a fete. This is very obviously going to awaken the Wild Hunt, and Kester has clearly been mystically targeted as its victim. Though there is a ton of dark muttering about what a bad idea this is, no one does anything about this until nearly the end, when Lucy finally makes first a misfired attempt to stop the Horn Dance, then a successful one to save Kester.

The atmosphere and prose is lovely, and if you like that sort of thing, you will like this book. Even for a book that isn’t really about the plot, the plot had problems. One was the total failure of any adult to even try to do anything sensible ever, for absolutely no reason, until Lucy finally manages to ask the right person the right question. This could have been explained as some magical thing preventing them from acting, but it wasn’t.

The other problem I had was that nothing unpredictable ever happens. Everyone is exactly what they seem: the blacksmith has mystical knowledge, the vicar is an innocent in over his head, the horse-mad girls have nothing in their heads but horses, and so forth. I kept expecting something to be slightly less obvious—for the vicar to know exactly what he’s doing and have a nefarious purpose, for the horse-mad girls to not be as dumb as they seem or to have their horsey skills play a role in saving Kester, for Lucy’s aunt to know more about magic than the blacksmith, etc—but no.

I looked up Penelope Lively. It looks like her famous book is Ghost of Thomas Kempe, which I think I also own.

There’s an album of music based on the book which you can listen to online. It’s by the Heartwood Institute, and is instrumental and atmospheric.

The Wild Hunt of Hagworthy

Tech tips

May. 27th, 2017 01:47 pm
xtina: (Default)
[personal profile] xtina
Two tech tips today (ta-dah!).

1) In Google Drive, you can show files sorted by file size across all folders by opening the quota page. To get there, either click on that link, or:

* Hover over the sidebar item showing how much space you've used.
* In the bubble pop-up, you'll see a little teeny tiny "i" next to the Drive line. Click that.

2) The text to search for to block that "Read More" horseshit is "javascript add link to copied text". The first thing to do for this is entirely block Tynt, either through your hosts file or through your ad-blocking plugin. Doing that covers it so well that I often forget that I even have that set.

I aten't ded

May. 27th, 2017 06:10 pm
artsyhonker: a girl with glasses and purple shoulder-length hair (Default)
[personal profile] artsyhonker
...just not posting much.

This week I have been mostly writing a Magnificat, which I've sent off for a competition entry; and messing about with a draft of a piece from a few months ago. Think I nearly have the layout sorted now; it's in 12 parts, and the piano reduction was a bit monstrous to piece together.

Last week I was putting the final touches on a setting of a poem by one of my patrons, commissioned by his wife for an important birthday. He seems pleased with it, and I'll go and see them both for a picnic tomorrow.

Today I was with London Gallery Quire for the first of two recording days for our new CD. It was enjoyable, the Quire is an amateur group and the CD is not going to be perfect. I felt we could have done a bit more, but also that there is wisdom in quitting while you are singing well and feeling good; I think definitely stopped at a good time.

Monday I'm on my way back to Aberdeen, with a supervision on Tuesday. I have not actually done the "short fast madrigal" my supervisor suggested I write. I have also not yet composed something to put on Patreon this month, and there isn't much of the month left to do it in, though I have an idea of what I'll do.

Extant commissions:
St Andrew's Cathedral
Wordless Lullabye

Forthcoming competitions:
Busan (probably can't be arsed) 31/5
Vox 04/06 (could use Sara Teasdale one for this, I think, if I can't write something in time, which I probably can't.)
Melodia (application, I don't have to write something unless commissioned) 15/6
Wilmslow (if I can get near an organ to try some things out? Not desperately fussed about this one to be honest) 31/7
Hendrix 01/8 (finding a text is going to be the hard bit)
Claremont 01/9
Laudem 15/9 (They've specified a text but their instructions aren't clear; I need to ask about it)
Polyphonos (application I think?) 15/9

Calls for Scores:
Pacific Edge 01/8
Juice Vocal Ensemble 16/10

PhD-related:
short fast madrigal
there is a spirit
start thinking about Mass setting stuff
finish 'O Nata Lux'

Stuff on the general composing to-do list/back-burner:
Pigeons (I didn't get the Boston commission)
Gemma's poetry
Turn under plow
When on life's path (Adrian)
I always tried to write about the light
Dear Sir (maybe for Uncommon Music festival if they have it again)
Docbrush Ubi Caritas
Recognition
SOMETHING for Choirs Against Racism. It's a matter of finding the right (public domain) text.
Down by the Whitening Birches
Wisdom hymn tune
The Just's Umbrella (subject to permission from author)
Nunc to match the Mag I submitted last night? But I may need to let the Mag sit for a while and do some revision.

twenty seconds into the future

May. 27th, 2017 08:44 am
solarbird: (tracer)
[personal profile] solarbird

A violet sphere of energy burst overhead, and most of the nearby lights went out. Two sniper shots, muffled, but audible to a practised ear, came in rapid succession. A short burst of less-muffled machine gun fire - and then a small armoured ship appeared from overhead, dropping hard and fast to low hover. The large hatch on the side blew open; from inside, a masked figure shouted in a machine-like tone, "GET OVER HERE."

Lena ran. Ran, and dove, reacting, not thinking, onto the platform, and it raised, carrying her with it. As she tumbled to the deck, the masked figure said, "Trafalgar Square?! Points for style, but are you insane?" now with a distinctly Hispanic accent.

"It was either that or blow up Fleet House, mate. I thought this would be better."

"I'm not so sure."

"I could still change my mind."

"Get in the crash chair, we're moving quickly."

Widowmaker appeared at the opposite hatch shouting, "GO, GO, GO," slammed its close button, and dove into a second crash chair as the ship shot forward, horizontally, low, and vanished from sight over a partially darkened Old London.

"Fourteen... thirteen..."

The ship shot west, tilting upwards, pulling four Gs for 12 straight seconds, as it just cleared buildings.

"That... was fast..." said Lena from her crash chair as the retrieval ship broke towards the Channel.

"We've been keeping an eye on you," said Sombra, with some effort, from the pilot's seat.

"Several," said Widowmaker, somehow effortlessly. "No one escapes from my sight. But... Trafalgar? Êtes-vous une folle? Why?"

"I... I'm not even sure. I think I wanted to give 'em the two-finger salute. I wanted them to know."

"Well," Amélie admitted with a mix of amusement and irritation, "they certainly know now."

"Four minutes thirty seconds to international airspace," said Sombra, from the pilot's seat. "33 seconds to cloak recharge."

"I didn't expect you to bring in a bloody troop carrier. How are we not shot down?"

Sombra mocked, "World's greatest intelligence agency! Spycraft is in our blood! And they still rely on CCTV. Pathetic - they won't even be sure you're gone until we're too far away to care." As gravity returned to normal, she turned and tossed the semi-prone Lena a seemingly-random collection of electronics. "Much better. Here, a present for you."

"What are they?"

"CCTV relays, a couple of encoders - it's all stuff they were using to track you tonight. Junk, really." A chime from the console. "Cloak reactivated. 15 seconds, changing course."

"So you knew," said Lena, looking towards, but a little past, Amélie.

"We watched them watching you," said the spider, looking back, "and I anticipated, and made contingency plans. I did not know, until they took you in. I'd hoped, if you came back out, that you'd go out of town to summon us - not go as far into town as possible." She checked the tactical board visible on the wall from her crash chair, and to Sombra, said, "No one is painting us. I don't think we need to use the backup boosters." From the pilot seat, Sombra agreed. "Boosters on hot standby."

Lena's focus moved further out again. "They one-thirty-foured me. And they took my license. Amélie," she said, distantly, as the adrenaline surge faded. "They took my wings."

Amélie reached across the lengthening gap, and took Lena's hand. "That, I did not know. So that is why... all this." She scowled. "I know what it meant to you. I am displeased, but much more than that, I am sorry."

"I told you they were bastards," Sombra chimed in. "10 seconds to full cloak charge..."

"Tactical board still clear. At recloak, bring us down to noise level and evade; we should be able to demicloak the rest of our way out."

"Cloaked... dropping... we're in the muck. Stealthed."

"Thank you," said Widowmaker. But she stayed in her crash chair, counting seconds. Three minutes to international airspace. "Once we hit the channel, deploy the decoy east and drop below Mach 1 - let's take the long way home."

"Got it."

-----

"I want to kill him," the now-signless pilot said, awake again, fury seeping from every syllable. "I get it now. I want to kill him."

"I understand," said the spider, carefully. But it is unnecessary, she thought.

Tracer - no, not Tracer, she'd need a new name - paced around the small cabin, as the ship flew quiet and low over the north equatorial Atlantic, moving slowly towards normal traffic lanes, just another surplus straggler finding its way back to its place.

"I want to kill him," the pilot repeated. "With my own hands. I want it to be close, I want it to be personal, I want him to know why."

"I am hearing you," the assassin said again, soothingly. "I am listening; tell me. Tell me all of it."

The former Flight Officer raged, "They knew I was back. They knew who I was the whole time, toying with me, trolling me even, I see it now. They were watching me since I showed up at the consulate and they cut me off and they moved my friends and threatened the one they didn't and they bled me 'till I almost gave up and died and then they took me and they put me in a box and told me to go do nothing and be nowhere and they took my wings and they took my life and they treated it like some kind of favour and now I want to take them and show them what kind of favour it was."

"I believe you, and I hear you. Keep going."

"Why?!" the flyer shouted, "What else is there? The box, the glass room, it was a bomb chamber, I get it now, I didn't get it at time, they were ready for me to explode, or they were ready to blow me up, I don't even know which, they'd planned it since I reappeared, I am so angry and feel so sick..." Pain and anger radiated from her body, so clearly the assassin could almost see it, as she slammed her fists down onto the flattened crash chair, now a bench, and then sat, face in her hands. "Why?! Why would they do that?"

If she did not want to kill them, I would..., thought the spider, struggling to keep her own emotions controlled. No, she realised, I do want to kill them. Not for history. For her. "I will tear through them until not one is left standing, if that is what you truly need," she said, voice quick with her own unexpected cold fury.

Lena looked up, face wet, and the blue woman thought, She has had no one, for weeks. "I have missed you," she couldn't not continue, aloud, reaching out her hand, "more than I could have possibly imagined. May I sit with you?"

Lena grabbed Amélie and pulled the taller woman down beside her, sobbing as the dam broke, digging into Amélie's shoulder and gasping for air, just holding her, so tightly, "i've missed you so much, it's hurt so much "

"I stayed away," Amélie said thickly, through her own new tears. "I didn't want to, but I did, until you called. It's what you said you wanted." She pulled the smaller woman closer against her, holding on tight in return. "Please say it's what you wanted. Please, please, or I will burst, I..."

"It was..." Lena managed slowly, though shuddering breaths that she fought to control, "...I thought I needed..." another heaving breath, "oh god, Amélie, I was so wrong..."

"Everyone," said the blue woman, finding herself suddenly, confusingly happy, "is wrong. Sometimes. But you are not, for me. Not ever."

"Don't let go. Never let me go again."

Not unless you want me to, the spider thought. Only then. But that is not what you need right now. And the most rational part of her mind raced, I need you with a whole heart, but I need that heart to be whole, and it is tearing...

And then, with the clarity of stars in a deep black sky, she knew.

"Pilot," she said softly, "would you fly us home?"

Lena gasped, eyes instantly wide open. "..."

"Sombra needs a break, she has not slept, and we are not too far away now. Are you cleared on this kind of craft? Could you take us home?"

A final heaving sob out of Pilot Oxton, and then she sniffed and laughed amidst the crying, and for the first time in what felt like years a smile peeked through the tears falling like rain. "uh," she sniffed, and swallowed, "B, uh, B-10M class, right?" She looked around. "Yeah. I can fly her. If... if Sombra doesn't mind..."

"Sombra needs a nap," came a voice from the flight deck. The hacker, being no fool, had already put the ship on autopilot, and stood by the empty flight chair, smirking and motioning towards the empty seat. Lena stepped up to that chair, and looked back to Amélie. "Stay with me? It's been a while."

"Always."

Lena sat down, put on the flight headset, and grasped the pilot's yoke. "Yeah," she said. "Let's go home."

My day is complete!

May. 27th, 2017 11:09 am
batwrangler: Just for me. (Default)
[personal profile] batwrangler
And my "decision" not to mow the lawn has been completely justified by this morning's (rather musky) brown snake!

Picture! )

Maybe there is hope for the world after all.




umadoshi: (feminism - she's someone (iconriot))
[personal profile] umadoshi
Atlas Obscura and The Establishment both have enough links I like that I've taken to giving them subcategories of their own...but then the links tend to really pile up there when I'm not looking.


Atlas Obscura

"The Intrepid ’20s Women Who Formed an All-Female Global Exploration Society".

"Finding Brooklyn’s Ghost Streams, With Old Maps and New Technology".

"In 1975, a Cat Co-Authored a Physics Paper".

"Gereja Ayam, the Abandoned Chicken Church".

"Signal de Botrange: The highest point in Belgium is a staircase to nowhere".

"Shaolin Flying Monks Theatre: A magical work of architecture where a wind turbine enables monks to levitate".

"Abandoned London Post Office Railway: An unmanned underground railroad created to transport London’s mail beneath its congested streets ran for seven decades, until it was unceremoniously shut down and abandoned".

"Underground Railroad Memorial at McDonald's".

"Forgotten Giants: Six beautiful wooden giants are hidden around Copenhagen".

"Tiny Mouse Shops of Malmö: Swedish mice can dine at the Nuts of Life restaurant or take a date to the amousement park".

"FBI Spy House: A painfully obvious spy house sits right across the street from the Russian Embassy".

"Why Justin Timberlake Sings ‘May’ Instead of ‘Me’: Linguistics and vocal styling converge in this late ’90s pop trend".

"One of the Earliest Industrial Spies Was a French Missionary Stationed in China: When he wasn’t converting people, Father Francois Xavier d’Entrecolles was extracting trade secrets from porcelain producers".

"The Unsung Delight of a Well-Designed Endpaper".

"The Violent Ice Cream Wars of 1980s Scotland".

"The Surprising Challenges of Making Things Vegan".

"Judean Date Palm Methuselah: This tree was extinct for a thousand years before sprouting again from a 2,000-year-old seed".


The Establishment 17 links, including discussion of suicide, body positivity, and fatphobia )

(no subject)

May. 27th, 2017 09:42 am
oursin: Brush the Wandering Hedgehog by the fire (Default)
[personal profile] oursin
Happy birthday, [personal profile] redroanchronicles!

QotD

May. 27th, 2017 05:24 am
dglenn: Me in kilt and poofy shirt, facing away, playing acoustic guitar behind head (Default)
[personal profile] dglenn

"Saturn was the largest rocket in the world, the most complex and powerful ever to fly, and remains so to this day. The fact that it was developed for a peaceful purpose is an exception to every pattern of history, and this is one of the legacies of Apollo." -- Margaret Lazarus Dean, Leaving Orbit: Notes from the Last Days of American Spaceflight, 2015

[A blessed Ramadan to everyone starting their fast today!]

Tuskless Elephants

May. 27th, 2017 02:10 am
ysabetwordsmith: Cartoon of me in Wordsmith persona (Default)
[personal profile] ysabetwordsmith
This made me laugh, because people are surprised  by it.  Guys, this is nothing more than natural selection of a typically varied population.  It's what always happens when predators whack the individuals with a certain trait -- it drops out.  Like the silent crickets of Kauai.

Custom Keyboards

May. 27th, 2017 02:07 am
ysabetwordsmith: Cartoon of me in Wordsmith persona (Default)
[personal profile] ysabetwordsmith
What you get when geeks are really into the typing experience.

LOL yes, Dvorak would bang these boys like a screen door in a hurricane.
dialecticdreamer: My work (Default)
[personal profile] dialecticdreamer
Outside Interference
by Dialecticdreamer/Sarah Williams
part 19 of 20
word count (story only): 1306


:: This story takes place the same day as “Insurance Salesmen,” picking up as Edwina arrives at work. This story will begin to make obvious and plot-critical connections between the earlier stories. I may need one more chapter for the denouement, and an extra bit of family-centered fluff. ::


:: Pay Special Attention: Warnings will be listed by chapter, with the proper spoiler-cover on the index page and listing all necessary warnings. In this chapter, it's time for explanations and overtures. Also, this is a promise from the author of a happy ending, because the plot is not about a missing shoe. ::





Professor Michaels nodded, sharply. He turned, offering a softer nod to Edwina, and strode toward the front door. When footsteps approached the parlor, they brought with them the soft rumbling tones of a worried baritone voice and the professor's higher tenor.

“Hmm.” The newcomer wore shaggy, collar-length brown hair not quite well enough to conceal the cauliflower ears of a boxer, and the prominent bump of a twice-broken nose threw a florid streak across his work-tanned skin. “I think we can carry him to the carriage if we need to, Professor.”

“I don't need to be carried!” Mister Williams tried to lever himself to his feet. Edwina tightened her mouth, refusing to grin, but she also held her breath until the urge to chuckle passed.
Read more... )

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We tell stories, paint minis, collect identity words, and share them all with our readers. If something we write helps you, let us know.

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