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bending_sickleBut first:
Written May 11, 2006
After the frustration of trying to cut into sugar cane (so worth it, though), I’m now frustrated because I can’t find a fic I saved and haven’t read yet. Something about veils?
Gah.
It’s bloody gone.
Am making self finish “All Things Copper” today, so can post prelim’ and see if there’re any reactions.
So…finishing.
…yep.
Finished! Whee! First actual completed Firefly fanfic! (Or, actually, first completed fanfic ever). Although it’s not exactly a fic, really. Storywise, I mean. Just a few missing scenes.
Techincal questions: Is it really PG-13? Do I have to mention the not-really-there pairing in the intro?
And if anyone feels like constructive criticism, here are the bits where I’m unsure of:
Is the engine-scene too…well, too much? Does it try to hard? Does the ending have an actual “this is ze end” feel? Or should I add a bit more (and believe me, I’ve got the cut-lines* to work from)?
PS: To all those who’ve watched Serenity: why and what the hell did Simon inject Mal with before the bank-job? (And quite possibly later on in the movie: there’s some highly suspicious shirt-fixing.) Is our cappy ill? A junkie? Wha?
* 1) Once Simon bid them leave the infirmary and before heading back to the engine room, Kaylee slipped down into her bunk and stuffed her bloodied work-rag into a drawer.
2) She didn’t know whether she wanted to keep it, wash it, throw it into the airlock or smother it in engine grease, but she…
3) Kaylee has a smudge of blood somewhere that Jayne sees and surreptitiously rubs off.
Problem is, bits 1 and 2 need a bit of explanations as to what exactly does she do with the rag, and why and I think the whole thing would just drag on too much.
Written May 8, 2006
I’ve been having the “what day is it?” syndrome for two weeks now. Granted, I was in France yesterday, and two days before that in a teeny tiny little country that everyone forgets exists (Andorra, between eastern Spain and France). Apparently all the drug-lords stash their money there. They’re “very discrete”, as the bank told my dad.
Oh, that’s right: parents are here. They got here two weeks ago on Tuesday (you can go fetch the calendar yourself) and will stay a week more. They’re pretty much the same, except dad’s taken it to grow a beard. Sadly, the result is three or four scraggly hairs in the shape of a moustache and beard that he just cannot stop petting. Very annoying, btw.
Mom’s stressed as always, and as tired-lookingly old as always.
The discussions are the same, though there’s the new topic of dad’s drinking, which is getting a bit habitual.
Last weekend we went south, to Valencia and Murcia and a whole lotta other cities I can’t recall. It was a long weekend, and I went AWOL one day, so it was a grand total of 6 days tripping. We even went to visit my great aunt (Gran’s youngest and only remaining sibling) and her husband at their summer house (which they’re planning to sell). Both are pretty ok with their health, within realms, really.
Then this weekend, Thursday to Sunday, we went north, to Andorra and France (like Carcasonne). I had the typical casulet stew.
It was bloody hard crossing the border back in. (Not, y’know, actually crossing the border in either direction: didn’t even have to show id. I love shengel.) I liked being in France, listening to the French radio station, watching the French countryside, watching BBC for once. (Hey, you try 7 months with almost no access to your mother tongue.) Then we crossed the border and I wasn’t liking the countryside so much.
I started cursing the country and football when, after taking the train and arriving in Barcelona with a very heavy bag, I found the main street blocked by football enthusiasts and had to walk some 6 blocks to a bus stop that actually had the possibility of seeing a bus anytime soon.
I got home, did my homework, had a shower, had a little French almond cake and Earl Grey for dinner and watched Serenity in bed.
And all was good with the world.
Today I watched it again.
And all was again good with the world.
I had so many more things I wanted to share, and now I can’t remember anything. Also, somewhat not keen on the joy or patience right now.
Edit: We bought delicious food in France, wandered about in castles and old markets and ate individual-sized melons just off the highway. Then in Barcelona, Mom and I had ice cream and bought shoes.
Dad asked if I was happy in Spain (uh, “no”, duh) and that I could always gohome to the T-dot and study there, not to worry about permits, how he’s always said so (“always” being last summer around July, when plans were kinda sorta definitely already made), that they’re there for me (pending inevitable transfer, of course).
Oh god do I want out of this place.
In the eternal words of Douglas Adams, in So Long and Thanks for all the Fish: “Not hippy”.
No, that is not a typo. At least, not my typo.
Almost finished with my definitely one-shot “All Things Copper” fic. Last Wednesday I wrote 1428 words and named two new types of guns. I kinda like naming them. So far, then, there’s:
Teppic 84– small handgun; rare and/or very pretty
Delcat 52 – old model handgun
Cobalt – long-barreled pistol
Vicar – the new model has a longer handle
Of course, now that I’m almost finished, I’m having trouble getting started. Blast.
I’ve been lying on my bed since around 4 pm and it’s now 10:30. All this time I’ve been half-dazed. I would have napped if only for the fact that I wanted to do stuff. Which I haven’t actually done either. (If I had my way, I’d stay up very late and wake up equally late. That way I stave off facing the next day each time. Don’t want to sleep so it won’t be tomorrow. Don’t want to wake up so it won’t be today.)
Oh, about three lines off from finishing fic. Have been for the past hour or so. In point of fact, have written 600 words in 4 hours. Think one section is way too “omg drama”. Don’t now how to say what I mean by that because I haven’t been able to think clearly all day. One line in particular I don’t know if I should keep.
(Edit: I have all of two or three lines to write and I don’t care. Not doing it now.)
Doing homework now. So totally not writing essay tonight. Not at all bitter that my French teacher hasapparently lost my essay. Nope.
Holy fuck it’s hot in here.
After more than 24 hours of being the only one in the apartment, people are here. Great, just when I was finally a-ok with there not being anyone. I hate how my flatmates come home every other day at 11:30 and watch the TV on load and talk loud till late.
Feeling very antisocial and maybe even a tad aggressive. Under and over layers of “blah” and “wah”. Gah.
Gonna watch some (I’ll try) of Serenity, possibly the commentary bit, because I’m nothing if not perseverant in my obsessions. Also, I like things that make me giddy with joy. Could use more of them.
Did I hallucinate the post where someone mentioned a second Easter Egg of River fighting the Reavers in a cartoon-version of the scene?
Ooh, just two more things, because my left hand has gone completely numb and I have to get in bed (though have been on bed for ages):
1)so totally knew Inara was in the shuttle when Mal got all chocked up. Glad to see the footage exists, even if only as a deleted scene
2)Jayne scared the hell out of me when he started talking all quiet and steely to Mal about Serenity Valley. “No, that’s right…” More so than when he yelled. Freaky creepy scary. But how can I be scared of itty bitty funny Jayne? Why, damnit it? Go back to being all adorable, Adam, you with your amazing little leather mittens. (I absolutely adore those work gloves. Don’t ask me why. Just do.)
And was it just me, or was his “western accent” way strong in his first scene and in the Jayne&Kaylee scene?
And now I wish I had friends within a hundred mile radius so that I could share. Maybe tempt? Convert? I pimped the film to Jo (she was totally sold by the space-geishas which I have now confirmed have a very itty bitty part, and they hardly seem space-geishas at all) and I distinctly remember having K swear to me she’d watch it. But meh.
Written May 3, 2006
Finally cracked and started writing a blatant Mary Sue. Oh, the shame*. (Of course, “started writing” may translate to “wrote 450 words and never will write any more”.) It’s a MS in that it’s somewhat of a self-insertion but not an “omg this girl is liek so great with purple eyes and velvet hair and she can play the trombone upside down”. Blame those hundred of Pirates of the Caribbean fics where teenaged girls fall into the movie. I indeed went through a PotC-fic phase, and there was an overabundance of that style fics. Some even decent.
Actually, it’s a serious take on one’s reactions were that to happen, the whole “fall into another, supposedly fictitious, universe” thing. It just seems psychologically fascinating. (Of course, it’s a bit like crossovers, with the character coming to term with the new reality, but with the added kink of them having to repeatedly say, “this is really real”.)
Of course, in true me-style, I’ve started writing the second part (“One year later”) first, instead of the actual beginning.
It’s also not the first time I have a plot with this idea, especially the cyclical-memory I’ll be introducing (think Memento, but instead of five-minute slots, more like a whole year).
Still, pretty.
Rewatching Firefly’s “Safe”, wonder why River says “Not him” in reference to Mal as he walks in after she’s had her “not a gorram doll” outburst. What does she mean? Also, when River stops dancing in shock, the editing is a bit ambiguous. Does she either “see” Book wounded when Mal does (and not when he’s shot, which is interesting) or does she react in anticipation of the kidnapping of Simon. (Although she doesn’t seem too concerned afterwards, when she finds Simon as if it were hide-and-seek. “I found you!”)
* Appropriately enough, though, it’s currently saved as “ShamelessMS”.
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Written May 11, 2006
After the frustration of trying to cut into sugar cane (so worth it, though), I’m now frustrated because I can’t find a fic I saved and haven’t read yet. Something about veils?
Gah.
It’s bloody gone.
Am making self finish “All Things Copper” today, so can post prelim’ and see if there’re any reactions.
So…finishing.
…yep.
Finished! Whee! First actual completed Firefly fanfic! (Or, actually, first completed fanfic ever). Although it’s not exactly a fic, really. Storywise, I mean. Just a few missing scenes.
Techincal questions: Is it really PG-13? Do I have to mention the not-really-there pairing in the intro?
And if anyone feels like constructive criticism, here are the bits where I’m unsure of:
Is the engine-scene too…well, too much? Does it try to hard? Does the ending have an actual “this is ze end” feel? Or should I add a bit more (and believe me, I’ve got the cut-lines* to work from)?
PS: To all those who’ve watched Serenity: why and what the hell did Simon inject Mal with before the bank-job? (And quite possibly later on in the movie: there’s some highly suspicious shirt-fixing.) Is our cappy ill? A junkie? Wha?
* 1) Once Simon bid them leave the infirmary and before heading back to the engine room, Kaylee slipped down into her bunk and stuffed her bloodied work-rag into a drawer.
2) She didn’t know whether she wanted to keep it, wash it, throw it into the airlock or smother it in engine grease, but she…
3) Kaylee has a smudge of blood somewhere that Jayne sees and surreptitiously rubs off.
Problem is, bits 1 and 2 need a bit of explanations as to what exactly does she do with the rag, and why and I think the whole thing would just drag on too much.
Written May 8, 2006
I’ve been having the “what day is it?” syndrome for two weeks now. Granted, I was in France yesterday, and two days before that in a teeny tiny little country that everyone forgets exists (Andorra, between eastern Spain and France). Apparently all the drug-lords stash their money there. They’re “very discrete”, as the bank told my dad.
Oh, that’s right: parents are here. They got here two weeks ago on Tuesday (you can go fetch the calendar yourself) and will stay a week more. They’re pretty much the same, except dad’s taken it to grow a beard. Sadly, the result is three or four scraggly hairs in the shape of a moustache and beard that he just cannot stop petting. Very annoying, btw.
Mom’s stressed as always, and as tired-lookingly old as always.
The discussions are the same, though there’s the new topic of dad’s drinking, which is getting a bit habitual.
Last weekend we went south, to Valencia and Murcia and a whole lotta other cities I can’t recall. It was a long weekend, and I went AWOL one day, so it was a grand total of 6 days tripping. We even went to visit my great aunt (Gran’s youngest and only remaining sibling) and her husband at their summer house (which they’re planning to sell). Both are pretty ok with their health, within realms, really.
Then this weekend, Thursday to Sunday, we went north, to Andorra and France (like Carcasonne). I had the typical casulet stew.
It was bloody hard crossing the border back in. (Not, y’know, actually crossing the border in either direction: didn’t even have to show id. I love shengel.) I liked being in France, listening to the French radio station, watching the French countryside, watching BBC for once. (Hey, you try 7 months with almost no access to your mother tongue.) Then we crossed the border and I wasn’t liking the countryside so much.
I started cursing the country and football when, after taking the train and arriving in Barcelona with a very heavy bag, I found the main street blocked by football enthusiasts and had to walk some 6 blocks to a bus stop that actually had the possibility of seeing a bus anytime soon.
I got home, did my homework, had a shower, had a little French almond cake and Earl Grey for dinner and watched Serenity in bed.
And all was good with the world.
Today I watched it again.
And all was again good with the world.
I had so many more things I wanted to share, and now I can’t remember anything. Also, somewhat not keen on the joy or patience right now.
Edit: We bought delicious food in France, wandered about in castles and old markets and ate individual-sized melons just off the highway. Then in Barcelona, Mom and I had ice cream and bought shoes.
Dad asked if I was happy in Spain (uh, “no”, duh) and that I could always go
Oh god do I want out of this place.
In the eternal words of Douglas Adams, in So Long and Thanks for all the Fish: “Not hippy”.
No, that is not a typo. At least, not my typo.
Almost finished with my definitely one-shot “All Things Copper” fic. Last Wednesday I wrote 1428 words and named two new types of guns. I kinda like naming them. So far, then, there’s:
Teppic 84– small handgun; rare and/or very pretty
Delcat 52 – old model handgun
Cobalt – long-barreled pistol
Vicar – the new model has a longer handle
Of course, now that I’m almost finished, I’m having trouble getting started. Blast.
I’ve been lying on my bed since around 4 pm and it’s now 10:30. All this time I’ve been half-dazed. I would have napped if only for the fact that I wanted to do stuff. Which I haven’t actually done either. (If I had my way, I’d stay up very late and wake up equally late. That way I stave off facing the next day each time. Don’t want to sleep so it won’t be tomorrow. Don’t want to wake up so it won’t be today.)
Oh, about three lines off from finishing fic. Have been for the past hour or so. In point of fact, have written 600 words in 4 hours. Think one section is way too “omg drama”. Don’t now how to say what I mean by that because I haven’t been able to think clearly all day. One line in particular I don’t know if I should keep.
(Edit: I have all of two or three lines to write and I don’t care. Not doing it now.)
Doing homework now. So totally not writing essay tonight. Not at all bitter that my French teacher has
Holy fuck it’s hot in here.
After more than 24 hours of being the only one in the apartment, people are here. Great, just when I was finally a-ok with there not being anyone. I hate how my flatmates come home every other day at 11:30 and watch the TV on load and talk loud till late.
Feeling very antisocial and maybe even a tad aggressive. Under and over layers of “blah” and “wah”. Gah.
Gonna watch some (I’ll try) of Serenity, possibly the commentary bit, because I’m nothing if not perseverant in my obsessions. Also, I like things that make me giddy with joy. Could use more of them.
Did I hallucinate the post where someone mentioned a second Easter Egg of River fighting the Reavers in a cartoon-version of the scene?
Ooh, just two more things, because my left hand has gone completely numb and I have to get in bed (though have been on bed for ages):
1)so totally knew Inara was in the shuttle when Mal got all chocked up. Glad to see the footage exists, even if only as a deleted scene
2)Jayne scared the hell out of me when he started talking all quiet and steely to Mal about Serenity Valley. “No, that’s right…” More so than when he yelled. Freaky creepy scary. But how can I be scared of itty bitty funny Jayne? Why, damnit it? Go back to being all adorable, Adam, you with your amazing little leather mittens. (I absolutely adore those work gloves. Don’t ask me why. Just do.)
And was it just me, or was his “western accent” way strong in his first scene and in the Jayne&Kaylee scene?
And now I wish I had friends within a hundred mile radius so that I could share. Maybe tempt? Convert? I pimped the film to Jo (she was totally sold by the space-geishas which I have now confirmed have a very itty bitty part, and they hardly seem space-geishas at all) and I distinctly remember having K swear to me she’d watch it. But meh.
Written May 3, 2006
Finally cracked and started writing a blatant Mary Sue. Oh, the shame*. (Of course, “started writing” may translate to “wrote 450 words and never will write any more”.) It’s a MS in that it’s somewhat of a self-insertion but not an “omg this girl is liek so great with purple eyes and velvet hair and she can play the trombone upside down”. Blame those hundred of Pirates of the Caribbean fics where teenaged girls fall into the movie. I indeed went through a PotC-fic phase, and there was an overabundance of that style fics. Some even decent.
Actually, it’s a serious take on one’s reactions were that to happen, the whole “fall into another, supposedly fictitious, universe” thing. It just seems psychologically fascinating. (Of course, it’s a bit like crossovers, with the character coming to term with the new reality, but with the added kink of them having to repeatedly say, “this is really real”.)
Of course, in true me-style, I’ve started writing the second part (“One year later”) first, instead of the actual beginning.
It’s also not the first time I have a plot with this idea, especially the cyclical-memory I’ll be introducing (think Memento, but instead of five-minute slots, more like a whole year).
Still, pretty.
Rewatching Firefly’s “Safe”, wonder why River says “Not him” in reference to Mal as he walks in after she’s had her “not a gorram doll” outburst. What does she mean? Also, when River stops dancing in shock, the editing is a bit ambiguous. Does she either “see” Book wounded when Mal does (and not when he’s shot, which is interesting) or does she react in anticipation of the kidnapping of Simon. (Although she doesn’t seem too concerned afterwards, when she finds Simon as if it were hide-and-seek. “I found you!”)
* Appropriately enough, though, it’s currently saved as “ShamelessMS”.
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no subject
Date: 2006-05-12 06:39 pm (UTC)Mal's general innoculation has either gone past the expiration date, or like I said above, he's never been to this planet before and needs to get the special cocktail for it. Although, I tend to think his innoculation is expired since no one else, including River get innoced. I doubt she's ever been on that planet.
no subject
Date: 2006-05-13 07:35 pm (UTC)