medie

So, Boobgate '08

2008-04-23T17:42:41Z

Ordinarily, I do not get involved in the wank much, but Boobgate '08 has really hit a sore spot with me as I deal with this shit daily. I'm just gonna copy and paste a comment I made to a clueless moron (and boy was he ever) in liz_marcs's journal here. Witness how he does not get it. (and bless havocthecat for smacking him one)

***

Well, let me describe my daily experience. I'm a woman with fairly substantial breasts (high DDs) and I'm 5'2". I DO NOT stand in elevators with men behind me. I do NOT like men to stand behind me where I can't see them. When I plan to go out somewhere, when I dress up, I have a moment looking in my closet where I decide what to wear and that decision depends on how much I want to be ogled when I go out. I don't ever think "will I or won't I?" be ogled, it'll be HOW MUCH. Despite my height, I've still watched men having conversations with my breasts. Men who've never once fucking looked me in the eye.

There are days, I'm convinced I could go out dressed like a NUN and still be stared at/objectified all because of the size of my breasts. I'm not a person to them. I'm a pair of double d's and that's ALL I am.

It's threatening as all hell. I hope you never have to feel that sickening twist in your stomach when you KNOW it's happening and there's not a damn thing you can do about it.

My 'freedom' as a woman doesn't depend on my breasts being open sourced. It comes from being able to leave my house and not worry about whether or not I'm going to be objectified that day. The thing about this Open Source shit is that it STILL makes my chest an issue. It isn't. Whether or not I mind complete and total strangers touching my breasts? Hell, I wasn't at the con and I'm still feeling pressured by it. The implication in the comments being if I'm not okay with it then CLEARLY I have a problem with myself, my body, and the world around me. No, I don't. The problem isn't with me and the fact they're trying to make the problem about women who don't agree? Speaks volumes as to the badness. That's pressure in and of itself. If you don't agree, then there's something wrong with you?

How the fuck is that free?

***

You know, I always adored my Dad. He was awesome. As a person and as a man, but I think, it wasn't until I grew up and had to deal with every asshole out there who thinks my boobs (and my body) are there for public consumption (btw, I ever go to a con and theferrett is there? I'm bringing mace. JUST IN CASE.)?

Now I REALLY appreciate him. He died when I was seventeen, but not once did my dad ever make me feel like, as a woman, I was less than. My dad made me feel beautiful, special, important, and most importantly? Smart. Something everyone knew. He was as proud as hell of my intelligence and made sure I knew it, even without ever really saying it verbally to me. I never once doubted it. Ten years after his death, I still don't doubt it. I doubt a lot of things in my life, but not that. And I grew up believing my brain and my opinions mattered, not my body parts and their respective sizes.

Thank *GOD* for that. Otherwise, with guys like theferrett...

yeah. My Dad ruled.

well, that's a first...

2007-12-04T02:51:36Z

they're trying to give dangerous offender status to a drunk driver.

here

I mean. Dude. He killed four people. Not mitigating his crime, but we do usually save Dangerous Offender status for the really bad ones. Like the habitual offenders who have next to no chance to be rehabilitated. Guys like Paul Bernardo. This guy is a repeat offender with three drunk driving convictions on his record and I agree he needs a stiff sentence.

But Dangerous Offender? That's "lock you up and throw away the key" territory and a designation I don't think we should throw around lightly. It's difficult to get that status and it's difficult for a reason.

Four deaths, he deserves a very long sentence. Upwards of 25 years at least. It's not so much the length of sentence here that bothers me. It's the designation. His crime is serious, but Dangerous Offender is the top of the line. There are lesser labels (Ala Long Term Offender) that would suffice. There's just something about this that's not sitting right with me. I think it's the level of maliciousness involved. To me, Dangerous Offender is someone who is actively engaged in the hunting of other people, in terms of pedophilia or serial killers. There's a conscious and active decision to torture/harm/murder someone.

While this man is a danger to society and deserves a hefty prison term, he's lacking that kind of malice and I think there's a line there that should not be crossed. If this is more of Harper's "tough on crime" trickling down to the provinces, I'd really rather he do something constructive about this. Locking drunk drivers up and throwing away the key isn't going to stop the problem. It's cleaning up after the fact.

*

Am I the only one who hears that Sean Kingston song "Beautiful Girls" and immediately wants to smack his face off something? The lyrics just irk me like nobody's business. Seriously. I thought it was a nice tune until I started to pay attention to the lyrics.

Now? Seething rage.

*

Somebody tell me to stop adding Fly Fusion accessories to my Amazon wishlist (am I the only person who uses that thing as a personal shopping list? *G*)

*

bantha_fodder, aj, voleuse, my Pretender fen? OMG WTF? They may resurrect The Pretender? *SQUEAKS*

*

OMG. WANNNNNNNNNNNNNNT!!!!!!!! Curse the fact I avoid my family on the internet like the PLAGUE. I'd touch them toward this link. (Seriously, online is MY TERRITORY and the idea of my family anywhere near my online hang outs is a big ol' pile of DO NOT WANT)

Advent Drabble 3: The Most Confusing Time of the Year (Heroes, Matt/Mohinder) PG

2007-12-03T05:08:29Z

title: The Most Confusing Time of the Year
author: medie
rating: PG
word count: 792 words
pairing: Mohinder/Matt
note: Written from a prompt by quarterturn for the Advent Drabble meme. Matt/Mohinder w. Molly for their first Christmas. Molly didn't actually *MAKE* it into this, but she's very much there in spirit. *G*
summary: Matt looks up. He's got that 'Honey, I love you, but you're a moron' look on his face again and Mohinder sighs.

The Most Confusing Time of the Year

Mohinder's making a face at his tea cup when Matt sits down across from him. "It's cold," he says.

"Then stop forgetting it," Matt says. "If you don't forget it, it can't get cold." He spreads several store fliers across the table, covering half Mohinder's files. Before Mohinder can protest, he adds a notepad, a calculator, and a piece of Molly's Kim Possible stationary.

This, Mohinder thinks, does not bode well, but he forges ahead anyway. "Must you be so maddeningly reasonable about it?"

"Yep," Matt takes Mohinder's laptop and starts typing.

Knowing he's beaten, Mohinder surrenders. "Matthew, just what the hell are you doing?"

Matt looks up, there's a touch of something Mohinder might term mania in his eyes. "This," he brandishes the Kim Possible stationary, "is Molly's letter to Santa."

"Ah, yes," Mohinder nods. "She wrote it yesterday." He helped her with her spelling. Though, he suspects she was only asking so as to include him in the process. Molly's spelling has always been quite accurate.

"Right." Matt goes back to typing.

"I fail to see the problem here," says Mohinder. Matt looks up. He's got that 'Honey, I love you, but you're a moron' look on his face again and Mohinder sighs. "All right, what am I not seeing?"

Matt smirks. "Mohinder, think for a minute. Exactly how many Christmases have you celebrated?"

Mohinder blinks. "Well, none."

"Yeah, me either." Matt gestures at the table. "Which means we are seriously behind the curve on this one. Unfortunately unless we can get Nathan Petrelli to suit up, nobody's going to be flying to our rescue on Christmas Eve."

"Well, Peter might," Mohinder says.

"Nah, he's too emo to be Santa," Matt says. "Also too skinny." He pauses. "Okay, so is Nathan. Forget I said anything."

"I'm inclined to forget the entire conversation," Mohinder says, grinning.

"Sorry, can't," Matt jabs a finger at the list. "Too much shopping to do. We'll need food, tree, decorations, music, and mistletoe." He shrugs, looking sheepish. "Molly made me promise."

Mohinder sits back, cold tea in hand, and stares at the papers. "We're quite in over our heads, aren't we? Calling Nathan might not be a bad idea. He may be able to think of a few things we're bound to miss."

He watches Matt scratch his jawline and nod. "Probably." A faint grin tugs at his lips. "Doubt this is what he'll expect me to be calling about."

"Likely," Mohinder says. "I think it's a good idea to forge relationships with the others. Relationships not directly related to saving the world."

"Birds of a feather, huh?" Matt gets up, taking Mohinder's cup out of his hands.

Mohinder leans back, watching him empty the cup and start refilling it. He relaxes, watching Matt work. After a minute, he slides out of the chair and walks over. Wrapping his arms around him, Mohinder tucks his chin against Matt's shoulder. "Similar complaints and all. Nathan has children, yes? It might be good for Molly."

"I don't think they know yet," Matt says. "I doubt Nathan would've mentioned it if they had powers, but y'know -- "

"You didn't hear anything about it."

"I wasn't trying to listen," Matt says. It's always a touch defensive. Mohinder knows he worries sometimes.

"I know, but you do sometimes overhear what we project," Mohinder says, soothing. "So, about the holidays -- "

"What about them?" Matt asks.

"Other than a Menorah, what else will we be requiring for Hanukkah?" Matt turns, surprised, and Mohinder smiles. "What?" he asks. "Did you think we weren't going to celebrate both?"

Matt hesitates. "Well, I didn't think -- " he looks at him. "What about you?"

"When the appropriate holidays roll around," Mohinder says, "I'll tell you." He hasn't truly celebrated them in quite some time, but, he thinks it's time to start. "It -- "

"If you say it'll be good for Molly, Mohinder, I'm going to hurt you." Matt grins.

"Well, I wasn't going to say that," Mohinder kisses him. "I was going to say it would be good for us all."

Matt leans in, deepening the kiss. For a moment, they forget about the lists and the holidays. Mohinder even manages to forget about the mountain of work buried under the fliers. Then they surface, oxygen being an unfortunate requirement, and he's looking at Matt again.

He doesn't think he'll ever get used to the view and he loves that fact.

"You do realize what this means, of course?"

Matt looks at him, confused for a moment, his brow furrowing. When he catches on, he groans and thumps his forehead against Mohinder's shoulder.

"The shopping is going to be obscene."

"Quite," Mohinder nods. "We're going to need more mistletoe. Much more mistletoe."

Advent Drabble 2: ain't no way (this auld acquaintance'll be forgot) (SPN, Dean/Jo) 1/1

2007-12-03T03:40:00Z

title: ain't no way (this auld acquaintance'll be forgot)
author: medie
rating: R
word count: 1471 words
pairing: Dean/Jo
note: general S3 spoilers. Written for the Advent Drabble meme for quiet_rebel who wanted Dean/Jo and New Years.
summary: "So," she says. "How's Sam? Still not Antichrist?"

ain't no way (this auld acquaintance'll be forgot)

Jo can appreciate irony. It's not like she has a choice. She's looked in a mirror and she knows what people expect of her. A thing for knives and better than a working knowledge of Latin aren't among them.

She's used that, she's had to, and it's worked. A pretty girl with a bright smile can go places most people can't. People trust her. They also patronize her. Hunters patronize her. Jo's learned to avoid most hunters.

Especially Winchesters.

But tonight she's willing to make an exception.

As the flames die down, Jo grins and hitches a hip up on the nightstand. Kicking her foot casually, she leans against the wall and tries not to laugh.

Okay, so she doesn't try very hard, but she tries. She even mostly succeeds. Mostly.

Dean glares up at her. "Not one fucking word, Jo. Not one, you hear me?"

"Mmmhmm, loud and clear," she says, biting the inside of her cheek. "Not one." Reaching out, she flicks a finger along cold steel and her shoulders shake with suppressed laughter.

She knows Dean's pissed and, worse still, embarrassed. Really embarrassed.

The problem is, Jo just doesn't really care all that much. She stopped caring what Dean, or anybody else, thought about her a long time ago. Right around the time a demon in Sam Winchester's body threw her around like a rag doll and his brother kicked her while she was down. Figuratively, of course.

Oh yeah, Jo can appreciate irony.

"Well, not one word," she grins. "Maybe two. Or three." Or a hell of a lot more than that.

"Oh god," Dean says, groaning. "Can I at least have my pants first?"

Amused, Jo folds her arms and gives his naked body a dismissive glance. She fakes thinking about it, then shrugs. "Yeah, that'd be a good idea. Nobody needs to see that."

"Huh, what now?" Dean huffs. "What'd you just say?"

Jo just smiles and says, "I said I agreed with you. Probably should mark your calendar, it's probably never gonna happen again." She looks at the twin piles of ash and bone fragments. Firecrackers against succubi. It's cheap and easy, but then so were they. "Two, Dean? That's gotta be a record." In stupidity, but she's not cruel enough to say it.

Yet anyway.

He flushes. "Well, y'know how it is. Ring in the New Year with a bang."

"Literally," Jo says, sliding off the nightstand. She picks up his pants and dumps them on his legs. "Now, scooch over."

Dean looks incredulous. "Are you serious?" he says. "I'm handcuffed to a bed here."

"Also naked," Jo says. "With no key, two dead Succubae, and Dick Clark about to drop the ball on Time's Square." She pushes at him, making room. Plunking herself down, she hunts around for the remote. "Don't suppose you've got snacks here?"

Finding the remote, she turns on the television and drops the remote atop his pants. "Your New Years Eve dates kind of ruined my dinner plans." Take out and a motel room wasn't much of a New Years Eve, but she's breathing and for Jo that's a good night. "Chips maybe?"

Her lips curve into a wicked smirk as Dean's frustration simmers. He's fuming and she's never been more comfortable. She relaxes, leaning her head against him. She's totally twisting the knife, but from Jo's perspective, he's got it coming.

Besides, this is the most fun she's had in weeks. Not since the werewolf with a drug habit.

She watches Dick Clark idly contemplating the man's restorative powers. There's no way a deal with something demonic isn't involved. Maybe that demon chick Sam's been hanging with would know. Jo considers asking Dean, but decides against it. Then she'd have to explain how she knows about Ruby and that's a can of worms she's not in the mood to mess with.

"So," she says. "How's Sam? Still not Antichrist?"

"Nah, but he's hoping," Dean says.

"Well, there's always the next Apocalypse," she says, her stomach rumbling. "God, I wish I'd brought something." She sits up, scratches an itchy spot on her ankle. Okay, so maybe it's a little distracting sitting next to a naked Dean. Just a little. "You could've at least gotten a hotel with a mini bar." She smirks. "It's not like you're paying for it."

"Not the kind of midnight snack that I had in mind," Dean says. He rattles the cuffs and bumps hips with her. "Seriously, Jo, get me the fuck out of these. I'm chafing."

"Your bright idea to use them," she says.

Dean jerks on the handcuffs. "Goddamnit, Jo! Have a heart."

"You're going to keep whining until I get you out of those aren't you?" she asks.

"Yeah," he nods.

"Ruining my New Years Eve?"

He nods again.

Jo rolls her eyes. "Fine." Sitting up, she swings a leg over his stomach, sitting. The remote control tumbles to the floor with his pants and she glares at Dean. "Where's the key?"

"Beats the shit out of me," Dean says. "One of them threw it."

"Mm, probably didn't think they'd be needing it." Jo grins. "I hear this species doesn't leave a whole lot left when they're finished."

He grimaces. "Please."

"And you guys thought I couldn't handle hunting," Jo says, laughing. "You try to have a threesome and end up dinner."

"Guess I'm just that talented." Dean grins. He's blushing. "So, you got an idea how to get me out of these? Preferably one that doesn't involve hacksaws."

"What about axes?" Jo asks.

He glares. "Just figure it out."

She sits back and thinks. "Okay," she says. "No hairpins, so we're out." She stops. "Close your eyes." She pulls her arm into her shirt and then stops. Dean's still staring at her. "Seriously, Dean, close your damn eyes."

He smirks again, but closes his eyes. Jo whips her shirt over her head, dumping it on his and then takes off her bra. She never thought she'd be happy for underwire.

"What're you doing?" Dean asks, voice muffled by the shirt.

"Getting you out of the handcuffs," Jo says, putting her bra back on. "Hang on a second." She rises up onto her knees, working the wire into the lock.

"You ever do this before?"

"Yep." Jo grins. "More than you'd think." Dean laughs, his breath warm on her bare belly and she shivers. "What?"

"You don't know what I think," he says.

"Oh, like it's hard to figure that one out." Jo says, rolling her eyes. "Please."

"Excuse me?" Dean rears back, the shirt slipping down. "Ooooooooohmigod," he says.

She stops working. "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Are your eyes open?"

He hesitates, his breath stuttering on her skin. She's going to kill him. He's looking. "Nope," he says.

"Dean!" Jo sits back, underwire in hand.

Dean grins. "What?" His eyes drop and she resists the urge to cover herself. She refuses to give him the satisfaction. "You're the one who took your shirt off."

"You're the one who decided to fuck his way into the New Year with a couple of sex demons." Jo holds up the underwire. "You want out of the cuffs or not." She sees the glint in his eye and scowls. "You even think -- "

"Oh, I'm thinking," he says. "I am so thinking."

"I should've let them kill you," Jo says. She gets up on her knees. "Keep your mouth to yourself and I don't break you, got it?"

"Break me?" Dean says.

She hears the disbelief and jabs him in the chest "Bare assed naked, handcuffed to a bed, at this point? Barney could take you."

"Oh, man, purple dinosaur jokes?" Dean frowns. "That's low."

"Keep it up and I break out Tinkywinky," Jo says. She goes back to work on the handcuffs.

Dean licks her stomach.

"Okay, that's it," she throws the underwire down on the bed. "Give me one reason I shouldn't kill you?" He twists and throws her off balance. She lands in his lap and realizes he's hard. It's not unimpressive. "That's not a reason," she says.

"Believe me, honey, it is if you let it."

She covers her face with one hand. "How the fuck do you ever get laid?"

He doesn't answer. Not right away. He starts to speak and stops. Then starts again. "Get me out of these cuffs and I'll show you."

Jo looks at him and weighs her options. There was a day she wouldn't have thought twice. She would have thrown herself at him with a lot less of a suggestion. Funny. It's not really that long ago, but it sure as hell feels like an eternity.

She reaches for the clasp of her bra. "I've got a better idea," she says. "You stay in the cuffs and we never speak of this again."

Oh yes, Keptin, Livejournal vas inwented in Kiev.

2007-12-03T03:33:57Z

OMG. We have been sold to the RUSSIANS people. See?

Jokes aside, I'm a smidge apprehensive about this. Wasn't there all sorts of wank over the Russian side of LJ filtering out some group's name last year?

Just when you think it's safe to venture out onto your f-list...*Jaws music*

*

Also, in funnier news, best typo ever. "Her lips curve into a wicked smirk as Dean's frustration summers."

Yes, that's right folks. Dean Winchester's frustration pwns your frustration.

Dean Winchester's frustration summers because he is Dean Winchester and he is just that badass.

*

The first of my advent drabbles was posted last night.

A Better OfferSmallville; Chloe/Ollie; S7 spoilers ; 567 words "To be honest," Oliver says, leaning on the rickety table, "I think you're wasting your time at the Planet."

fic: a pirate's life for me (Firefly/Pirates of the Caribbean) 1/1

2007-09-20T01:38:36Z

title: a pirate's life for meauthor: medierating: gword count: 379summary: It'd been a while since Serenity had seen a proper mutiny and they were always fun.note: written for IBARW for debc reposted for international talk like a pirate day. Because, yeah, my arrrrrr is pathetic. "Husband?" Resisting the urge to fold her arms, Zoe looked at Wash with an expression that was, she hoped, neutral. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mal look skyward and heard the snicker he was trying to suppress.

She silently contemplated spacing him. It'd been awhile since Serenity had seen a proper mutiny and they were always fun. She needed to remember that when they were actually in space again.

"Yes, oh bastion of gorgeousness that I am blessed above all men to call wife?" Wash pushed the dreads back from his face and smiled lopsidedly at her.

Zoe let out a little chuckle, "What are you doing?"

He straightened up, trying for dignified, and waved a bejeweled hand. "Isn't it obvious?"

Zoe swallowed her first response and sent a warning look Mal's way to discourage his. He looked back, as innocent as a newborn babe. If that babe was, of course, a hardened criminal type. "No," she said.

Wash looked insulted as he gestured at his open shirt, tight pants, and the dreadlocks topped by a hat. "You can't tell by the clothes?"

Through masterful effort, she kept a straight face. "They seem less colourful than usual. Are you all right, husband?"

"Fine," Wash said. "Fine, fine, a thousand times so." He waved them off. "Excuse me, everyone, I do believe I need to go keep us from smashing into something, dying in a rather spectacular explosion, and, thus, dinging the paint job."

"We're not on the 'ship," Mal said, apparently happy to point out the obvious.

"Exactly!" Wash called back. "Imagine how much more horror inducing it'll be to watch."

"Zoe?"

She looked over at Mal. "Yes, sir?"

"You have any idea what the rutting hell has gotten into that husband of yours?" Mal paused then added, "Well, other than him being Wash, of course."

Zoe smiled serenely. "He discovered a pirate in the family," she said, recalling Wash's glee on the subject. "Back on Earth-That-Was in some place called the Caribbean." She turned away, leaving the dumbfounded Mal in her wake, "Personally, Captain, I think it's cute."

"Oh, well, just see that you do," Mal said.

With a smirk, Zoe followed her husband back to the ship. She had a pirate to molest.

oh procrastination, thou art my friend

2007-08-27T18:01:28Z

I am in dire need of something good to happen to me today (if that something good were of a monetary nature, dear universe, I would not be averse to this), but in lieu of that happening, I am writing and trundling around YouTube.

This fanmade Justice League Movie Trailer is of the AWESOME. It is seriously one of the best, fanmade things I've seen done in a while. It's just a hair-short of professional. Watching it makes me long for a fanmade Supergirl movie trailer. In my happy mind, it would be perfect. Use, say, Katherine Heigl as Supergirl - she would make an awesome movie-verse Kara (Kristen Bell would make an awesome tv-verse as tv requires snarkier) and you can totally poach her Grey's Anatomy and Roswell footage for adult!Kara (I like the idea of a Kara working in medicine though, generally, I think of her as a nurse) and then there's Stargate: Atlantis for shots of a futuristic city to stand in as Argo City (Argo City as a flying city, rather than "omg, it spun off into space on a fragment of Krypton" reasoning, works much better)...

It could so easily be done.

Alas, I am unable to do it as I have no access to all the necessary bits and bobs. But someone *SO* could. I live in hope. *G*

my emo could beat your emo into a bloody, emo-shaped pulp.

2007-08-27T16:59:35Z

See, my friends (WHO ARE AWESOME) designed me a new layout for my website for my birthday. The fic is not up yet, not even close (for lo, I am prolific) but I have managed to transfer the layout over. The rest I can figure out later.

It's so GORGEOUS.

A Curious Mix. see? Some day, I will manage to get all my fic back up. Which, given the amount I have written, will probably instantly crash Ink And Quill and my fellow I&Qers will vote me off the island.

In other news, I really hate being emo about things. I am not an emo-person by nature, truthfully, I find it unproductive and frustrating. (I should clarify, I am a terrible procrastinator so, do not allow my words to convince you that I am, y'know, organized and get-up-and-go-y.) So much so, that I am awesome with the "deny, deny, deny" emo? What emo? I do not know of emo! I try to avoid even suggesting emo most of the time. That may just be paranoia about not wanting to seem negative in my journal space, or it just may be my natural grouchy-self. Whichever.

It's probably been a lot with the upheaval and such going on in the RL (plz to be paying me now, employers!) but I've been fighting with writing my spn_harlequin fic like nobody's business. I didn't completely transform the SPN-verse into that of the prompt, instead I've got canon!Sam and Dean making a swing through Louisiana. That had me uncertain enough, but I'm just a hair over 13,000 words right now and I'm possibly a little over halfway done. And with Sam/OFC, that's an awful lot of story to ask people to read. I'm enjoying myself, which is all that really matters, but you know how it is. You want to please the audience too.

Well, worst comes to worst, I've got the bare bones of a pretty cool gothic romance novel. Change some names, flesh things out, and bob's your ghost-in-a-skull, we're in business. *G*

Now, to change things up, I have a few hundred words of a Supernatural snippet. If I had time, I could go trolling through the spn_xx prompts to find one to match this and flesh it out into a real story. It has the potential for that.

For now, though, it remains a few hundred words of random that popped into my head. It was completely tossed off in the space of a few minutes, but I like it.

"I will put enmity between thee and the woman"

The question's one she's always wanted an answer for, but never dared ask. Questions like it aren't asked easily, not when their answers change the shape of worlds.

"Why did my mother have to die?"

Drying herbs, her grandmother looks up with a settled expression - a calm that comes with the arrival of something long-awaited. "Come here, baby," she says, holding out a gnarled hand.

She goes, sitting at her grandmother's knee like she's done so many times before. And, her grandmother stroking her hair, she listens.

"You remember your scriptures?"

"Yes, ma'am." She learned them as she's learned everything else. Quotes and passages mixed in with potions and poltuces, each as invaluable as the other.

"Do you remember Genesis three and fifteen?"

She thinks for a moment before repeating the words, "And I will put enmity between thee and the woman, and between thy seed and her seed; it shall bruise thy head, and thou shalt bruise his heel."

Her grandmother hums approvingly, "Do you understand what that means?" When she doesn't answer the question, her grandmother continues, "That's the moment, baby, the moment we were marked to change the world. God entered the world through the body of a woman and that ol' Scratch can never forgive. He's been trying to get even with us for that ever since."

Her grandmother reaches out and tilts her chin up, looking her in the eye. "Women like your Mama started hunting to pay him back a little, and turns out they've paid him back a lot. Hunting takes a lot of folks too soon, folks just as good as your Mama - better sometimes."

Nodding, she looks at the picture on the wall. Everyone says, more and more, she takes after her Mama. None of them know how right they are. "Then so will I," she says, and her grandmother smiles.

That's the start of it, the day she followed her family along the path, and she hasn't looked back since.

fin

I'd ask if you were serious, but really, I already know

2007-08-14T17:34:55Z

Link of the day. An Australian men's magazine is offering, as a prize for a contest, a set of new breast implants for the winner's girlfriend. It gets better as the competition? Consists of men taking pictures of their girlfriend's cleavage which, then, be posted on the internet for voters to choose the woman 'most deserving' of the implants.

What makes it more special, someone points out in the article, these women may not necessarily even know their significant others are entering them into the contest. The whole thing is quite stomach turning but, I'm not under the delusion that it hasn't happened before. I'm sure that somewhere, some other magazine in whatever country, has either considered, done, or is planning on doing something very similiar. I may have even heard about it but it escapes my rather pitiful memory.

The worst of it? I wasn't even surprised. I do think, still, that having larger breasts? IS NOT all that it's cracked up to be. Seriously, when you're 5'2" and people still manage to have entire conversations with your breasts? NOT as fun as you'd think. And let us not even speak of trying to find dresses that fit your upper body that aren't large enough to house half the United States Marine Corps on the bottom. And the penchant toward skinny shirts? Thanks, but, no, I like breathing. I've tried some lately and, I swear, corsets are less restrictive. Not to mention living with your breasts shoved up under your chin? How is THAT attractive?

Ahem.

/end rant.

How fitting is it that a Dolly Parton song just came on my Yahoo LaunchCast Radio. Oh psychic LaunchCast, your music fu is genius today.

Random quote from my spn_xx fic, just to cheer things up!

"You two keep this up," Carolina said, amused. "And folks'll talk."

"Which you like," Kate pointed out. "Ms. I-Carry-A-Bullwhip-And-I-Know-How-To-Use-It-Just-Ask-Me-How."

"You know, with a name like that, I can see why you'd go by Carolina," Jane said with a smirk.

"Well, it is tradition," Carolina said, her mind still mulling over the conversation she'd interrupted. "After all, Grandpa named himself after the dog."

"Oh god, seriously?" Kate blinked. "I thought those movies were bullshit."

"They are," said Carolina. She didn't try to keep the aggravation from her voice. Everyone on campus knew of her extreme dislike for all things Spielberg. "Complete and utter bullshit."

"So, pretty much bang on?" Kate said, looking over at Jane.

"Where the Jones family is concerned?" Jane nodded. "Yes."

"Dude," Kate grinned at Carolina. "Your family seriously trumps mine in the fucked up department. No wonder you like hanging out with hunters."

plz, to be having good news yes?

2007-08-09T17:39:30Z

so I have updated my user info with my alternate journal links. Just in case. No, I'm not in any hurry to leave Livejournal, moronic administration aside I like it here. I like the environment on my f-list and in the comms. Yes, fandom occasionally makes me want to strangle it (at the moment I'd happily shove parts of SG1 and SGA in front of an opening wormhole) but I LIKE it here. (though LJ isn't making it easy for me to plan around their stupidity by saying "no, linking to the hinky material is the same as posting it here" so, heh)

In the meantime, gah, can I has paycheque now? I haven't worked in a month as the people I babysit for are in a work tangle. Husband is waiting to go away to the mainland to work and while he's home, there's no need for a babysitter and while that was fine for a while, my bank account's getting pretty thin. (As in bills for this month are cool, next month I am screwed.) *pokes them* I'm HOPING they will figure it out soon but if they keep this up, I'm going to have to break my word and go elsewhere for a job.

I've been wryly joking to myself that I need to pull a Stephen King (or whoever it was) and write and sell a short story. Yeah, like that is going to happen.

By everything bosses have told me, I'm reasonably certain that I will be working soon (they thought he'd be gone this weekend but, apparently not) so I doubt I'll run into any real trouble but it's not fun walking around with that knot in my stomach, y'know?

BTW This is not a pity-me post, got me? I just need to say something SOMEWHERE or I swear I'm going to explode. It's not like there's anyone hanging out around here in RL that I can tell. The cat's a lousy listener.

In the meantime, I suppose I'll finish my spn_xx fics (I'm partways through one) and my spn_harlequin. Must do something constructive with free time other than flip out.

medie

In Trek, RPF gets published...

2007-08-08T19:08:19Z

for serious. I picked up a couple old-school Trek books the other day. One of them had introductions written by the TOS actors and lo and behold? One of the stories features William Shatner, Leonard Nimoy, and DeForrest Kelley, 'accidentally' getting beamed aboard the real Enterprise and pretending to be Kirk, Spock, and McCoy until Scotty could get them back home.

Seriously.

RPF.

In a book. A PUBLISHED book.

I'm still giggling.

Oh HAI!

2007-08-07T18:12:58Z

I should probably remember to use this thing shouldn't I? I am sorry Journalfen, I'm still in that damn marriage with LJ and having a torrid affair with InsaneJournal. But don't worry, I'll still hit you up for wanking later.