If you found me but are looking for my less-fannish content, you can find that at
![[livejournal.com profile]](http://s.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
jacquez.![[sticky entry]](http://s.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/entry/sticky_entry.png)
Sticky: The things what you will find herein.
Aug. 28th, 2010 07:45 pmThis journal contains almost exclusively fannish content, and as of this writing, all content is public.
If you found me but are looking for my less-fannish content, you can find that atjacquez.
If you found me but are looking for my less-fannish content, you can find that at
jacquez.I am trying to remember what pro Trek novel had the Spock Manpain Meditation in it, where Spock sits in the dark and listens to terrible news stories about things like orphanages being crushed in earthquakes, and has Manpain over them. This is his actual meditation routine in the novel, I kid you not.
I believe that the Spock in this novel is older -- post-TMP Spock, not TOS-era. Anyone know?
(I am possibly using this Uhura icon because that look on her face is the look I imagine she would have if you told her about the manpain meditation.)
I believe that the Spock in this novel is older -- post-TMP Spock, not TOS-era. Anyone know?
(I am possibly using this Uhura icon because that look on her face is the look I imagine she would have if you told her about the manpain meditation.)
so apparently "The One Where Vincent Is The Son Of King Jareth" is a She Never Died story?
Sep. 17th, 2011 11:52 pmVincent raised his hand to block out the sun, hot in an orange sky, but still the light glancing from the walls of the stone city hurt his eyes. He'd been a creature of moonlight and candlelight since birth.
"You have never been to the Goblin City," said a voice close behind him, and he turned; a tall, slim man stood on the hill with him, not even a foot away. He could not hear the man's heartbeat, and he did not smell human; he smelled of lightning and earth and a little of owl. There was no human scent on him at all, not even underneath the surface.
The man smiled, a flash of uneven teeth, longer than human, with eyeteeth drawn almost to the vicious points of Vincent's own. "I have waited long to show it to you," the man said. His silver hair blew back from his face, though there was no wind on the hill.
"Who are you?" Vincent asked.
The man ran a gloved finger down his own cheek. "Oh," he said, "someone rather less human than you are."
Vincent flicked his eyes up and down, looking the man over, and huffed out a skeptical breath. The man laughed, and a sudden flicker of the sun -- a stutter of darkness in a cloudless sky -- made his face seem to shift, as if some demon looked out from his skin. Vincent drew back, startled; the sun settled again in the sky, and the man looking at him was just a man: tall, gloved, shoulders broad beneath leather armoring, cloak drifting about his body like night.
"Yes," the man said, "we've a touch in common, haven't we?" He held out his hand. "Come with me, and be my heir. Or solve the Labyrinth, and I shall tell you whatever truths you seek, at the end of it."
Vincent looked out over the mazed city; he had solved greater labyrinths than this, alone, in the dark. "I cannot leave my world," he said. I cannot leave Catherine, even though she is lost. "And not all truths are knowable."
"Wise man," the man said. "I shall tell you two truths, then, when you find my Castle: the names of your parents, and the location of the woman you love."
Vincent thought of everything he knew of magic, every bargain that could and could not be struck with Fair Folk. "And if I do not solve your labyrinth? What price do I pay, then?"
The man tossed a glass ball lightly into the air, where it hovered, spinning. "If I cannot tell you where she is," he said, "she will die. There is no changing that part of time: you must learn of her location from me, or not at all. Is that price not terrible enough?"
"You have never been to the Goblin City," said a voice close behind him, and he turned; a tall, slim man stood on the hill with him, not even a foot away. He could not hear the man's heartbeat, and he did not smell human; he smelled of lightning and earth and a little of owl. There was no human scent on him at all, not even underneath the surface.
The man smiled, a flash of uneven teeth, longer than human, with eyeteeth drawn almost to the vicious points of Vincent's own. "I have waited long to show it to you," the man said. His silver hair blew back from his face, though there was no wind on the hill.
"Who are you?" Vincent asked.
The man ran a gloved finger down his own cheek. "Oh," he said, "someone rather less human than you are."
Vincent flicked his eyes up and down, looking the man over, and huffed out a skeptical breath. The man laughed, and a sudden flicker of the sun -- a stutter of darkness in a cloudless sky -- made his face seem to shift, as if some demon looked out from his skin. Vincent drew back, startled; the sun settled again in the sky, and the man looking at him was just a man: tall, gloved, shoulders broad beneath leather armoring, cloak drifting about his body like night.
"Yes," the man said, "we've a touch in common, haven't we?" He held out his hand. "Come with me, and be my heir. Or solve the Labyrinth, and I shall tell you whatever truths you seek, at the end of it."
Vincent looked out over the mazed city; he had solved greater labyrinths than this, alone, in the dark. "I cannot leave my world," he said. I cannot leave Catherine, even though she is lost. "And not all truths are knowable."
"Wise man," the man said. "I shall tell you two truths, then, when you find my Castle: the names of your parents, and the location of the woman you love."
Vincent thought of everything he knew of magic, every bargain that could and could not be struck with Fair Folk. "And if I do not solve your labyrinth? What price do I pay, then?"
The man tossed a glass ball lightly into the air, where it hovered, spinning. "If I cannot tell you where she is," he said, "she will die. There is no changing that part of time: you must learn of her location from me, or not at all. Is that price not terrible enough?"
I'm pretty sure Catherine and Vincent Go To Anthrocon would be funnier, but I can't shake the feeling that I ought to write The One Where Vincent Is The Son Of King Jareth or The One Where Richard Mayhew and The Marquis Hunt The Beast of New York.
dementia email going away
Aug. 3rd, 2011 11:29 pmIf anyone, for any reason, is still using my dementia.org email, please change it over to my gmail address ASAP. I haven't regularly used the dementia account for a very long time, and the domain owner has reached an agreement to sell the domain, so the account will be completely dead very soon.
(If you are an archivist, I will probably be dropping you a line in the next few weeks about updating the info on old stories....)
My website will move elsewhere, but maybe this'll be the kick in the pants I need to get more things on the AO3....
(If you are an archivist, I will probably be dropping you a line in the next few weeks about updating the info on old stories....)
My website will move elsewhere, but maybe this'll be the kick in the pants I need to get more things on the AO3....
Backup Project stuff; signalboost request
Jul. 30th, 2011 02:59 pmI made a DW version (![[community profile]](http://s.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
backupproject) of the Backup Project LJ community, because of the DDoS attacks; I've just posted some Backup Project website update information over there.
I'd appreciate signalboosting, since I can't post to LJ to let people know about the changes right now. I've already put a note on the Facebook group.
Thanks!
backupproject) of the Backup Project LJ community, because of the DDoS attacks; I've just posted some Backup Project website update information over there.I'd appreciate signalboosting, since I can't post to LJ to let people know about the changes right now. I've already put a note on the Facebook group.
Thanks!
5 questions meme
Jun. 23rd, 2011 04:58 pm![[personal profile]](http://s.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cereta asked me 5 questions! If you want me to ask you 5 questions, let me know in comments.( questions & answers )
So. RIP DWJ.
Mar. 26th, 2011 09:24 pmI've been in class all day, and it was a marvelous class, but I'm only now catching up and -- ah, no. Not Diana Wynne Jones!
I never read her work when I was in the nominal target audience; I started reading it as an adult, because I tend to find YA fantasy more interesting, creative, and all-around pleasant to read than I do "adult" fantasy. (I am, in fact, about a third of the way through Enchanted Glass right now, and before that I read The Pinhoe Egg, and before that House of Many Ways.)
Sad now.
I never read her work when I was in the nominal target audience; I started reading it as an adult, because I tend to find YA fantasy more interesting, creative, and all-around pleasant to read than I do "adult" fantasy. (I am, in fact, about a third of the way through Enchanted Glass right now, and before that I read The Pinhoe Egg, and before that House of Many Ways.)
Sad now.
Accidental AO3 discoveries
Mar. 21st, 2011 11:38 pmStories tagged "bonding", "male bonding", and "forced bonding" are all collected under one tag.
FIC: The House That Was, by Laura JV
Mar. 12th, 2011 10:44 pmTitle: The House That Was
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Warnings: Choose not to warn.
Rating: F is for Funeral
Notes: Written for "The Case of the Underground" atsherlock_flashfic.
The House That Was, at AO3.
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Warnings: Choose not to warn.
Rating: F is for Funeral
Notes: Written for "The Case of the Underground" at
sherlock_flashfic.The House That Was, at AO3.
basingstoke, upon learning of my deep love of Sherlock marriage-of-convenience stories, wrote me one.Bells are Ringing. Mycroft's gone and made Sherlock French, for no-doubt nefarious reasons.
Things I never did figure out.
Feb. 18th, 2011 09:18 pmBeauty & the Beast, the television show, which I loved passionately as a pre-teen/teenager, had some serious logic problems. Serious enough that a pre-teen passionately in love with the show noticed them, people.
1. Vincent was all terrified of scratching up Catherine in some kind of lustful haze. Fingernail clippers, dude. Look into it.
2. Vincent is basically a tall hairy guy with fangs, a cleft lip, and claws. Fingernail clippers and a razor can take care of two of those problems, and then you've got a kind of homely guy who mumbles a lot and never opens his mouth too wide. Sure, rude people are going to stare at the cleft lip, but you can, in fact, clean up and take your lady out to dinner if you want to, homes.
One of these days I'm going to up and write the story for #2. After I build my fangirl-proof bunker to hide in afterwards, because that fandom is even crazier than Due South.
1. Vincent was all terrified of scratching up Catherine in some kind of lustful haze. Fingernail clippers, dude. Look into it.
2. Vincent is basically a tall hairy guy with fangs, a cleft lip, and claws. Fingernail clippers and a razor can take care of two of those problems, and then you've got a kind of homely guy who mumbles a lot and never opens his mouth too wide. Sure, rude people are going to stare at the cleft lip, but you can, in fact, clean up and take your lady out to dinner if you want to, homes.
One of these days I'm going to up and write the story for #2. After I build my fangirl-proof bunker to hide in afterwards, because that fandom is even crazier than Due South.
Contamination: End Notes
Feb. 15th, 2011 02:05 pmSee master post for headers & chapter links
These end notes contain spoilers for the story "Contamination".
( End notes )
These end notes contain spoilers for the story "Contamination".
( End notes )
