After a Fall

Fri, 23 Feb 2024 15:30:03 GMT

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53976535

finally putting my Gellix story out in the world. I started writing it at a time when i was in a wider circle of writers and a few of us had stories from the same mission going out at the same time so i set mine aside, not wanting the comparison- which honestly should have been a sign that things were awry in the group.

Still, i'm happy with it. It is more concerned with Aedan's mental state than the relationship she's in than i expected, but it's the story that wanted to be told. it also shouldn't surprise me as much considering the number of stories i'm seeing with- forgive the phrase- but wet noodles.

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Wed, 17 Jan 2024 02:11:54 GMT

there's a certain familiarity to the wave of absolute misery trying to swamp me. No brain, no one is tired of me. We're all just really tired from the holidays and your cycle is about to start and probably your thyroid med needs adjusting if you don't snap out of it. When the weather breaks, you should probably spend some time outside and get the feeble sunbeams.

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settling our brains for a long winter nap

Mon, 25 Dec 2023 03:33:27 GMT

a little note to wish you all a pleasant and joyful end of the year, no matter how you celebrate the season. The days will creep longer here, even as what passes for winter deepens and we'll get our coldest days in the coming months. For me, i hope it brings a return to writing, long evenings for small projects, and the gentle comfort that the rough past few years seem to have passed back into a kinder steadiness. i hope to see you all around more and look forward to the stories we'll all have to tell.

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indy ficlet

Tue, 12 Dec 2023 15:56:09 GMT

“Are we old?” They had turned down a chance to go for a club crawl in the depths of the zakera ward- even Steve had gone, lured- in Kaidan’s opinion- by Chet’s giant puppy dog eyes. But he was well aware that Aedan only clubbed when teased into it, though he’d never gotten the whole story of why. And he’d rather spend the evening here in front of the apartment’s flickering fireplace with her anyway.

Hell, maybe they are old. Still, can’t admit it.

“Nah. Anyway, it ain’t the years- it’s the mileage.”

She chuckled and the vibration of it rumbled through him, nestled as she was against his side. “Heh, that’s clever.”

…wait. “It’s from a movie.”

“Oh? Okay.” He really wanted to be distracted by her fingers under his t shirt but…

“Really? Indiana Jones?”

“…Is he famous? You know I don’t really know much history that isn’t…” She made a lazy finger gun, “people shooting each other.”

Absolutely not. “Terrible archaeologist and brilliant adventurer? Punches Nazis? Whip? Hat?”

She’s lifted her head up now to peer quizzically at him. “I got like two words out of that and one’s because I’ve met Liara. What the fuck are you talking about?” She makes a disgruntled squeak when he sits up and triggers his omni, the vidscreen over the mantle flaring to life.

“I’ll make it up to you with popcorn.” He assures her as the first movie queues up.

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ficlet

Fri, 08 Dec 2023 03:33:28 GMT

The sheets next to him are cool when he wakes, curled around a pillow and he's almost positive he dreamed her, dreamed her mouth on his throat, the brush of her slender calloused fingers and her legs wrapped around his hips.

And for a second he aches with it, the throb of *just a dream.*

*Again.*

Until a faint clink of glass in the kitchen brings him conscious to the hint of her shampoo on the pillow he's buried his face against.

Kaidan opens his bedroom door to the rare sight of her in the kitchen, barefoot but clad in her old green cargos and a black sports bra, concentrating on that mildly baffling way she has of glaring eggs into a scramble. Like they'll run away if she isn't locked on target and he can't help the chuckle that bubbles up in his chest.

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spicy pumpkin bread recipe

Wed, 22 Nov 2023 21:31:11 GMT

2.5 cups pumpkin
2/3 cup milk
1 cup oil (or 1/2 apple butter+oil)
4 eggs
3 cups sugar (2 if using apple butter)
3 cups flour
3 teaspoons baking soda

1/2 teaspoon salt
3 teaspoons cinnamon
1 teaspoon nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon cayenne
1/2 teaspoon allspice
1/4 teaspoon cloves
1/4 teaspoon ginger

Oven at 350 F butter a bundt pan and a loaf pan or line 12 muffin cups (makes two of three)

stir together wet ingredients in a large bowl

Sift together dry ingredients, add half and mix, then half and mix

pour out into pans, bake for 45 minutes, turn pans bake for another 15-30, keeping an eye on it. when pulls away from side and a pick comes out clean, remove from oven and cool on racks.

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somebody might die (but nobody gets hurt)

Sat, 18 Nov 2023 18:05:25 GMT

"Explosives aren't my favorite," Shepard rolled her eyes at Williams' phrasing, "But they're generally put together by people who are logical, which is relaxing, or crazy, which is fun." Her grin was a little vicious but contagious and Kaidan couldn't help but smile back.

Chakwas admonished, "'Crazy' is a pejorative, Commander."

"I once disarmed a dirty nuke that used twinkle lights and high tensile, conductive fishing line as part of its wiring. The materiel was encased in a silicone drell dildo and part of a holiday display of 'Gifts for the Special Person in Your Life.'" Shepard added the last dryly.

"Sometimes usefully descriptive, I will admit."

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Thu, 16 Nov 2023 15:08:48 GMT

the house is feeling a bit stale and last night's chicken stew is lingering, but it's too wet to keep the windows open long so i have a pot of ginger/pepper/bay leaf on to simmer in hopes of freshening the air. And a slice of rye toast to go with my tea today

And Thanksgiving is next week!

and i don't care really. having the holiday at my niece-in-law's has cut into my enjoyment. I bake my pumpkin bread/cake, they don't eat it and i take it to my brother who adores it and will happily keep some in his freezer to thaw out when he wants a snack. But if i don't take it, they ask why i didn't so...eh.

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ficlet- hey little train we're jumping on

Thu, 16 Nov 2023 02:13:04 GMT

The gun was a lump of cold metal in her hands, but Ashley asked anyway, stroking the cotton tip of a swab along the corrosion, "What are we fighting for then, if not that? If we can't even let people grieve their dead in the way they see fit?"

Shepard's hand stilled, the barrel gleaming under its thin coat of oil. "Is that what you joined up for?"

"Nerali got up from her prayer rug to go and die on a spike and now her husband can't even bury her."

"I don't have an answer for you, Williams. I'm not sure why anyone who had what Nerali had would sign up for any of this." She can feel Shepard's eyes on her face, like the cool back of a silver spoon on a bruise. And the question Shepard isn't asking, why are you here?

It's a good question.

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DV- ficlet

Thu, 16 Nov 2023 01:07:57 GMT

The ship breathes around them as she blinks open her eyes to the faint strip lighting and it takes her a moment to feel the slightly scratchy weave of the standard issue sheets, the stolid square pillow under her head instead of the mildly terrifying plummet she’d woken from. She starfishes her hand out and brushes the edge of the mattress, then the other and…oh.

She’d fallen asleep again.

The thing is…she’s still not sure she didn’t dream him up, too. Conjured him up like one of Mama Des’ premonitions. The ship hums soothingly, cutting its smooth path through their stars and she watches him breathing steadily, turned her way for a change instead of curled up on the edge, but still wrapped around his pillow like it might try and escape.

If she could have dreamed of anything back then, the way the glimmer of bluish light catches that cheekbone and the arch of that eyebrow were probably beyond her but just in case…just in case she’d had just that much imagination she has to carefully lift her hand, and trace the air over them, watching the shadow fall on him. It isn’t quite enough and here, in the dark with him sound asleep, it’s safe to let herself wonder.

There’s just a hint of warm breath on her hand and the heat draws her like a magnet to skim the edge of her thumb along his hairline, to that scar that she knows the story behind now. To the faint tickle of stubble and the smooth line that splits it and…
He moves…just a little and she holds her breath, still as if she’d spooked a target.
Then he tilts his head into her touch like he’s awake. The faintest press back against the…the caress and a hmm of contentment before he sinks deeper into sleep.
The thud of her heart tells her she’s still holding her breath, eyes wide in the dark and she’s caught between wanting to try it again and wanting to hold that moment, real and soft against her.
She pulls her hand in, curling her fingers around that sensation of stubble and smooth and that moment as if she can hold it against her chest. And she drifts back to sleep safe between his steady breathing and their ship slipping through the long dark around them.

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DV- ficlet post cabana

Tue, 14 Nov 2023 19:03:25 GMT

There’s a ping and when Aedan answers it with a fond smile and a lifted eyebrow, Gerte hmphs from across the galaxy.

“You.”

“Me.” She nods.

“You were supposed to call us and tell us everything and yet, here I am again.” They cross their arms and glare. “Calling you.”

“I literally just got settled, they insisted on giving me this swank hotel room, instead of a decent bunk.” Aedan swung the camera around the relatively vast space that she’d been assigned ending on the mug of coffee that was still steaming on a granite counter. “Made my cup and was trying to decide what sofa to sit on before I checked in. Because there are three. Just for my ass, alone.” It was hard not to sound frustrated with the situation. There’d be a PAO on her doorstep come tomorrow morning, instead of just an assignment, she’d bet her boots on it.

“Well, as you say, it’s a pretty nice ass.” She can’t help a laugh at Gerte’s prim mimic. “You did quite the thing, though, lille du.”

“Yeah, well. Didn’t do it all alone, though.”

“And how was it?” Gerte’s voice has gone a bit gruff, their version of hopeful concern. “Not being alone?”

“It was...good. I had fun.”

“And...”

“And it was nice to pretend I belonged in the world for awhile,” she admits it like she’s giving confession again, expecting a penance. Not that Gerte would. “We went to a market, did the tourist thing. Couple of decent restaurants, even.”

“That sounds delightful. It...” Gerte pauses to lean closer to their comm. “It does not have to be pretend. You belong.”

She can’t explain it, what a relief it was to step into that Alliance locker room at the spaceport and strap her armor back on and feel it shutting off all that exposed skin. All that...connection. "It already feels like it wasn’t real.” She leaned back on the sleek, giving cushion of the sofa farthest from the window and snags her cup. “But my coffee’s getting cold. Tell me about Serrice.”

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ficlet

Tue, 14 Nov 2023 18:46:30 GMT

he was too late too late the geth slipped his pull somehow somehow they’d picked up a dampner it hadn’t worked and her slide to the side had been too slow when it rushed and she hadn’t jammed her knife into the juncture and she’d... she’d....

this time it was his nightmares driving him to the mess in the late watch. He stuck with tea, a little grassy and bitter but it just matched the adrenaline in his mouth. And she catches his startle when she rolls around the corner.

It’s almost wary, the way she reaches for the bowl of fruit. Her head down, he can see the way the skin is almost bruised under her eyes as she skims over a yellow pear and a pale blue plum and picks up a fairly decent looking strawberry macintosh, flecked with yellow like a russet almost like he could have picked it up off the orchard floor, like a treasure from a frost bitten row of lavender bushes. Another knife, this one tiny and silver, produced again from god knew where but it’s soothing, to watch her peel it. The long curve of a peel.

Did she know that old harvest game, one long peel to toss in the hearth to see if it spelled a letter?

He swallowed the urge to ask, sometimes things like that made her retreat- did you evers when he and Ashley were chatting in the MAKO while she drove.

He’s so focused on not asking, the pale slice of apple reached out to him makes him jump again and her jaw clenches.

“It’s better...than whatever you’re swallowing down.” Her voice is a little rough. Husky.

He takes it and bites into it, smoothly tart to make his mouth water. Good for a space shipped provision. She quirks a half smile when he catches a drip of juice with his thumb, taking a bite of her own right off the knife.

It is better. And he takes the next slice offered with a smile of his own.

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makery bakery

Tue, 14 Nov 2023 18:32:08 GMT

Today is a scone sort of day, apparently. I had intended to make something- possibly a pumpkin bread which i still might do but then there was my nice bit of butter and the idea of cinnamon scones and the recall that sigoth is out for a company dinner tonight, so maybe something simple like scrambled eggs for dinner and hm. Ham and cheese scones would be good with that. And then i have SO MUCH cheddar left from the log he bought a couple weeks ago so maybe some plain cheddar ones to keep in the freezer for snacks.

Anyway. Lots of scones, lol.

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Sun, 12 Nov 2023 18:38:47 GMT

"Here, it's been rattling for a week." Gerte handed Shepard the HouseMouse ™️ and Shepard patted the casing before she flipped it over. She shot a cool eyed glare up over her shoulder at Gerte and Ianya absolutely did not hide behind the giant bowl of poppedcorn.

"You've been letting the poor thing suck up earring backs again, haven't you?" But she pulled a tiny wrapped kit out of the pocket at her knee and, as the movie started, seemed to find an acceptable tool to open the hull.

They were about a third of the way through the well-acted political dramedy (nothing with action, Gerte had told her, no one needs Aedan critiquing battleplans and ambush opportunities) when Shepard reached up and taps Ianya with the sturdy resin handle of her screwdriver in the midst of a scene set around a dinner table, a lull in the banter; the chief counselor blushing after a mild flirtation.

She hummed inquisitively and Shepard pointed to the holoscreen with the metal prong. “Is that accurate, the way ranks are arranged at the table?”

Ianya blinked at the setting. She hadn’t noticed, but...”Yes, actually. The writers must have some experience with diplomacy.” Gerte paused the play as she indicated,“See, the upper level counselors are placed between lower ranks, but spaced with an opportunity of educating their lessers. No one is above the other- circular table- but the north/south windows allow the chief to receive the benefit of the setting moonlight highlighting their headpiece.”

“Good to know.” Something rattled and she held up the offending bit of jewelry. “Got it.” Gerte held out their hand and it glittered as it dropped. “Mind your bits, Lundqvist.” And chuckled when Gerte rapped her head with a gentle tap. The movie started again, with a clink of crystal.

The HouseMouse wheels made a warbling noise as they spun in diagnostic. “Yeah, I bet it does.” Ianya heard Shepard murmur and smiled as she settled back against Gerte’s side.

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an indy project (ficlet)

Sun, 12 Nov 2023 18:35:18 GMT

“Are we old?” They had turned down a chance to go for a club crawl in the depths of the zakera ward- even Steve had gone, lured- in Kaidan’s opinion- by Chet’s giant puppy dog eyes. But he was well aware that Aedan only clubbed when teased into it, though he’d never gotten the whole story of why. And he’d rather spend the evening here in front of the apartment’s flickering fireplace with her anyway.

Hell, maybe they are old. Still, can’t admit it.

“Nah. Anyway, it ain’t the years- it’s the mileage.”

She chuckled and the vibration of it rumbled through him, nestled as she was against his side. “Heh, that’s clever.”

...wait. “It’s from a movie.”

“Oh? Okay.” He really wanted to be distracted by her fingers under his t shirt but...

“Really? Indiana Jones?”

“...Is he famous? You know I don’t really know much history that isn’t...” She made a lazy finger gun, “people shooting each other.”

Absolutely not. “Terrible archaeologist and brilliant adventurer? Punches Nazis? Whip? Hat?”

She’s lifted her head up now to peer quizzically at him. “I got like two words out of that and one’s because I’ve met Liara. What the fuck are you talking about?” She makes a disgruntled squeak when he sits up and triggers his omni, the vidscreen over the mantle flaring to life.

“I’ll make it up to you with popcorn.” He assures her as the first movie queues up.

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n7

Sun, 12 Nov 2023 18:28:05 GMT

Long, bony fingers reached out and flicked the emblem on his collar, fingernails making a staccato rhythm. “What’s that?”

Anderson didn’t flinch though he did level a sharp look her way that made her grin and lift her hands in appeasement. “My N7.”

The expression on her face couldn’t have read, “what the fuck does that mean” any clearer.

“There’s a…” She didn’t have reference for any of this and he knew it and proud as he was of the emblem, he wasn’t sure how to explain it. “After enlistment, after officer training- I got an opportunity to join special forces- elite soldiers who take on unique missions, usually on their own. They call it N-level training. There are six levels of training, hard as hell and dangerous and the seventh is…earned.”

“Oh.” Her eyebrows lifted as if something had come clear. “Earned like?” Ace tapped the inked barbed wire on her thin chest, the splatters of red making the spikes stand out.

“Something like.”

“Betcha I could do it.” Her grin is sharp, daring him to contradict her.

I’m betting you were made for it

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On the beach (somewhere between the devil and the deep blue sea) N7 day

Thu, 09 Nov 2023 15:46:59 GMT

Sarge leans over her, eyes glinting on the rifle wrapped in the bottom of her wet suit still clutched to her chest as she sprawls across the sand. "Well, Shepard. That's an approach."

"Seemed a good idea at the time, Sarge."

"Worked for you. You gonna get up anytime soon?"

"Not until you make me. Sleep when you can, right?"

That gets her a snort, seems approving. She'll take it. He raises his head like he's looking around for the rest of the squad before he grunts. "You got about five minute before the rest of 'em scuttle out of the surf, looks like." She took a chance and gave him a thumbs up. "Dunno what it is about you. What makes you better than them?"

She isn't going to answer that, trap clear as the daylight breaking but the toe of his boot almost gentle against her ribs stirs her. "Not better. Just…done this all, already- done it scared, done it hungry, done it tired. Hell, Sarge. I've done it high, drunk, and strung out on top of all that. Well." She shifts, considering. "Ain't done it with a pound of quartz sand up my asscrack, I guess. Something'll trip me up, don't worry."

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well, here i am again

Thu, 09 Nov 2023 14:57:20 GMT

Guess we're firing this back up again. I'm gonna be transferring a bunch of writing, maybe art from tumblr as the week goes on.

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Bye bye blackbird

Tue, 03 Jan 2017 02:53:01 GMT

I don't use this often, anymore, but I'm glad it's still here. However, I have shut down my LJ. I don't feel comfortable with the whole Russian aspect of the ownership.

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do you know what's worth fighting for

Tue, 14 Jun 2016 16:51:40 GMT

I'm trying to decide between writing this week's letter to my various elected officials about restrictions on high capacity magazines and assault weapons or about the fact that a foreign national government is suing my kids' school because they don't like the way some people voted.

I mean...both letters are going to be written but

why is this real life?

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sing us a song of the century

Mon, 07 Mar 2016 03:23:45 GMT

Trying to write...trying and failing miserably, but trying.

I can do the work part of the writing, the settings and the choreography. The dull bits. But I'm missing the spark. The voices.

I'm wondering if I need to go back and play, or at least run some youtube playthroughs.

On the other hand there's this. And my need to post criticism somewhere, though I like to keep my tumblr mostly non-political.

if things don't get better they won't get worse.

And they could get so much worse, my darlings.

There's a portion of me...a dark, dark portion watching in fascination as part of our country marches happily towards doom. And the rest of me trying not to scream when I read my fb page where it seems most of my family is marching.

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shelter from the storm

Sun, 22 Nov 2015 15:32:05 GMT

You know, it's not that I don't know how to approach these arguments with my extended family. I have the capability of making my point and reducing their hate and ignorance fueled high points to rubble. I could do that...in a coffee shop, during a car ride, in my own home.

It's being a guest in their home that shuts me up. I can't do it, I can't get around twenty years of social training that you *don't* attack people when you're a guest. Family or not. I've been a debater, an arguer all my life; my mum used to tell people, with a certain amount of exasperated pride, that I would argue with a fence post. And so they taught me manners to deal with it. There are arenas where it's okay and arenas where it's not and the top, most important one is...you DON'T ARGUE WITH PEOPLE IN THEIR HOMES.

But my sister in law collects nativity scenes. And I will be using that snappy "if only we had an example of Middle Eastern families searching for refuge in the face of heartlessness...oh wait..." if the opportunity arises. Surely I can call out hypocrisy without triggering my hospitality reflex?

we'll see.

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oh how far we are from home

Sat, 14 Nov 2015 05:26:28 GMT

and then somedays it seems all you can do is is gather what warmth you can find,close your eyes, and pray that tomorrow will be better. my prayers are with you all tonight, lights in the dark

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you know my name

Thu, 12 Nov 2015 18:48:40 GMT

I was in band a long time. I played the 007 theme so many times. SO MANY TIMES.

I warmed up with 007 and ...uh...Belinda Carlisle's Circle in the Sand.

Leave me alone, I'm strange.
<3

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i'm bad behavior but i do it in the best way

Thu, 12 Nov 2015 02:27:48 GMT

I don't know. I didn't really leave the internet all that time ago because of IM though it was something that started to weigh on me after a while. "I should talk to these people, because I can." "But I don't have anything to say. Or too much or the wrong thing or sarcasm will be misinterpreted or i'll be pedantic..."

And so it goes. ( Read more... )

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