MUSE LIST

Oct. 31st, 2037 02:34 am
repositorian: (my fandom is a total spaz)
Micah Callahan
chartreuse_eyed
sandbox
Charles Monroe
licensed_pro
sandbox
Noriko Ashida (Surge)
electro_kinetic
milliways, medietas

Finvarra
sidhe_king
sandbox
Sinthia Schmidt [AU]
sist3r_sin
sandbox
Ganymede
the_cupbearer
milliways
Sooraya Qadir
veiled_hellion
milliways




Lorelei Jones [OC]
mosthexcellent
sandbox
Tristan Lancaster [OC]
elydoric
sandbox
Balthasar [OC]
pocketable
sandbox


code by [community profile] cawaii
repositorian: (my fandom is a total spaz)
More to come as I think on it and rewatch! But in order of watching the ep:

this is why I had a salad last night )
repositorian: (nightcrawler)
It's been a long time since my last post, and there've been a lot of reasons for that, but mostly it's personal stuff. In the space of the last few months I almost quit Milliways, joined Ten Forward as a mod and player, rejoined Milliways but dropped a bunch of characters that I didn't play much, and then quit as a mod for Ten Forward, to stay on as a player.

I've not been feeling great about all these transitions, and even less good about all the interpersonal mess that came along with them; I hate being ignored and told however kindly or round-about that I'm simply not good enough or not entertaining enough to be kept around.

Not much happy in this update, I guess.
repositorian: (Default)
She actually met Steve first, of the two of them. He was an illustrator for a comics company, she herself an editor for the title he headed. He wasn’t the biggest guy but his arms were covered with tattoos, even including his knuckles--they spelled out BROOKLYN, one letter for each finger. Sinthia wouldn’t have thought that she’d find the look appealing at all, with a slim hearing aid stuck in the blonde’s ear over the arm pieces of his glasses. (Which, upon discovering he actually needed, she found she liked more on him than off, the way he squinted at fine detailing in his drawings with them pushed up to his forehead.)

Sinthia met Bucky only later, when Steve wasn’t the one who showed up to her desk to collect the bunch of approved drawings and stories at the end of the week. He was far more of an outright flirt with the sort of crooked, triangular grin (pierced, like his ears, with snakebites) that made something flutter in her stomach. It was impossible not to flirt back--and Sinthia wouldn’t have been particularly interested in trying even if she thought it was feasible, and it wasn’t long before there was mention of coffee after work sometime, which left her smiling even as she enquired after Steve.

“Where’s Rogers?” she asked.

“Hospital,” he replied lightly, though there was something to the look on his face that told her in no uncertain terms he’d rather be there than here. She frowned, but left it at that; the date--though Bucky was primarily the one who called it that--went well for what it was, both of them discussing work and Steve, though from different angles. It was date two that really got interesting, because Bucky brought Steve along in half-laced work boots and a hospital bracelet still on his skinny wrist.

She blinked at them both when they appeared at her table, Bucky grinning and pushing a lock of hair behind his head to show his piercings, and Steve halfway blushing and leaving Sinthia a little confused with her hands still wrapped around her ceramic cup.

“See,” the charming brunet said, “We have this...arrangement, Stevie and me.”
repositorian: (gearheart)
Sinthia holds the little pudgy round robot cupped in her hands, casing cracked and one lens-eye missing and a stubby circular wing snapped off and broken into pieces in her pocket. She does this sometimes--where the boys, the newer generations of androids went out and tussled, got themselves banged up and bent so they needed to be hammered back out, Sinthia collected bits of other discarded droids, the useful ones Darcy could use to repair Steve and Bucky. The boys always needed it.

She’d never collected another whole thing before, though she thought nothing of it when she brought back in the little remote pokobot, still talking to it so it would learn her voice and command language, like a human would have brought in a puppy with the pleading look of but he followed me home can’t I keep him. It was broken, and so far removed from her android iteration that it might as well have been from the Stone Age. Her creased brows and the uncomprehending but worried look did the trick; Darcy repaired the damage as best she could. It’s once-gleaming white polymer casing was now scuffed and gray, one foot mismatched entirely, but it worked and the unsynched eyes would, eventually, follow her. Sinthia kept it on top of the control box for her recharging station and would talk to it, let it turn the lights on and off.

“You know that thing’s not real,” Bucky told her matter-of-factly after Sinthia had almost punched him for jostling the box enough that Poko--her name for the pet robot--had fallen off.

“Neither are we,” she answered, tucking her hair behind her ear as she plugged herself in to recharge for the night.



-----
So a pokobot is my made-up term for something like this, which is a universal remote robot called the apripoko, borrowed from the italian phrase for little by little. Also I have no idea what this is about or when it's set but it came to me. So. Uh. Yay?
repositorian: (but dragons don't DO dishes)
...And why I cannot refuse some of them.

So some of you know I'm planning to do a cosplay of China Mieville's character Carrianne from The Scar, and short of some final pieces I'm almost entirely done with that. It'll be a fair mix of Native American and Middle Eastern (primarily Turkish) styles of clothing, and all the colors I can get my hands on, because Armada is a floating pirate city, there are not regularly-supplied textile shops there. It's coming along nicely, and I figure if all else fails and my group does not cosplay with me, I will be a multicultural steampunk-ish character and will be fine.

But today I got presented with the idea of a genderswapped Thorin Oakenshield. It is absolutely not a secret that I have a huge, huge, huge thing for that character and adore the representation of him in the Peter Jackson films. So, I began actually thinking about doing it. I know the first question most of you will ask is, of course: are you doing the beard too? and to be honest I haven't decided. I've tried gluing crepe wool to my face with spirit gum before and the whole experience sucked. A lot. So I really may not do one and I will be okay with that. But I figure, if I can pull off this cosplay it would do a lot for my love of the character and positivity for plus-size cosplayers. That said...I am undecided on a lot of the costume; what materials I should use for both authenticity and coolness, and opinions on the bits I've got planned so far. Instead of making a shitload of little rune-stamped shapes for a genuine brigandine, I was figuring pop-tab chainmail layered over a blue tunic would be an appropriate substitute for the actual brigandine he wears. And from there, all I'd need is jeans--got those--the bracers, which I can make, and the shoes and overtunic. (No way in hell I'm wearing a fur-lined coat anywhere not wintery cold and north of the Mason-Dixon line, sorry.)

The shoes are what actually presents me the biggest problem; maybe if I can find some mens cheapy boots at a goodwill or something I can make the toe-caps and wrap belts around the shaft to make it look thick enough, but I have issues finding boots that fit my legs, since I've got relatively narrow ankles and big calves. The tunic I can sew no problem--it doesn't have sleeves, I can roll with that easy.

More thoughts to come.
repositorian: (love the world)
I know like, half my friendslist does not do religious holidays. I'm still doing winter cards for whatever holidays you *do* celebrate, because I like to send cards in midwinter. It's a bleak period of the year and people can usually do with some cheering up, even from something so little as a card in the mail.

So here's what you do: You guys can comment to this post, and all comments are screened, but leave me your mailing address and I will send you a card and a short ficlet if you want it. (You have to give me the characters and a little prompt, though.)
repositorian: (crepe myrtle)
So when I feel bad, I cook, or try to; lately I've been wanting to try more international stuff, so that's been on my mind. So the last couple of days have been busy and adventurous!

I finally made this Mongolian sweet-cured beef I found a recipe for online; it's very sugar-heavy and I intended to fix it as actual *cured* beef, but after both parents gave me a look of you want me to eat what I kind of had to change that up and make it a marinade so I could cook the beef. I actually do want my mom to eat it. So I tried documenting the process of making the marinade mixture, which...kind of worked. It looks a bit like road tar, but my kitchen smelled like a spice market making it; it's got demerara sugar, soy sauce, sesame oil, Indian brown mustard, cinnamon, coriander, tabasco sauce and onion powder. I would have used chopped onions, but I wanted to thicken the sauce so it wouldn't be so very liquid and might stick better to the meat. I'm hopeful of it working out, but also kind of apprehensive.

So with it my plan is to make a cracked wheat salad with roasted veggies, though it's been a while since I've made anything with cracked wheat and my family sometimes can be capricious about liking that.
repositorian: (Default)
So the 'rents and I went out to Mossy Creek Barnyard Festival this past weekend, and that was actually kind of fun. We went Sunday afternoon, because Sunday dinner--for those of you not keeping track of the minutiae in my family, my maternal grandmother used to always handle Sunday dinner for us, and now it's my mom's job as only girl of four, now three with my oldest uncle deceased--was in the slow cooker, and the weather was gorgeous. Didn't buy much, but I bought some wooden spoons (and oddly enough none of the three is actually a spoon) from one of the guys that frequents the festival.

Which is good, because they're all hardwoods and made from recent deadfalls in his/our area and are well-made and hand-turned and all that stuff. I got one really long-handled spatula made of oak, and an avocado spoon made out of what I think is light cherry, but it doesn't have the wood type burned into the handle like his stuff usually does. The other thing is mostly for my mom, and it's called a roux spoon, though it's not technically a spoon nor do we make a lot of stuff that calls for roux. It's really a spatula with a very sharply cut angle on the flat end, good for scraping the fond off the bottoms of pans--something which is deliciously conducive to all the flavors in pan sauces and gravy and stuff, as well as actually getting the pan cleaned up before washing it. That one is a very pretty cherrywood and the best thing about all of them is that they only need to be cleaned with soap and hot water and very lightly oiled once or twice a year. Among the other things I saw at the festival were a wonderful local soap company that does light scents which do wash off in the shower, which is a delightful thing since I like smelling pretty but also don't want to upset all the allergies of the household; they had a muscadine-scented soap which I almost bought but didn't. There was a lady who did handmade lace-weight yarn and had her own custom-made spinning wheel there, and it looked so cool that I had to stop and talk about it, and take a picture. I take a lot of cell phone pictures, and at fairs and festivals and conventions and things I try to ask first, but still a lot of people say it's A-okay. The rest were a whole lot of business cards and a guy knapping flint who let me take a picture of a pretty red knife. (It's a bad angle, but the blade was about half again as long as my middle finger, so...five inches maybe?)

I've been making dinner for the past couple nights, and will be making for the next couple more; Sunday night was slow-cooker pork ragout, which was amazing, and last night was mini cheeseburger pies that you make in a muffin pan, both served with green salad. Tonight I'm getting adventurous and doing chicken Florentine in a way that doesn't really have a recipe. I'm hopeful for how it turns out since the idea seems easy enough, but we all know how things that start like that go. My basic idea is to lightly panko-coat chicken breast strips, and bake them until crispy, then top with spinach and artichoke dip and cheese and broil them to make it hot and bubbly, and serve with roasted tomatoes and orzo with some light kind of oil/vinegar dressing, or maybe a very light red sauce. I dunno yet. That with a green salad seems like a pretty excellent dinner on a Tuesday to me, and it should be pretty easy since I have all day to do the pre-assembly and cleaning of the kitchen. Since I cook I usually don't handle cleanup but the parents neglected it last night and I hate walking through there with stuff all over hell and creation.

I'm also taking a bit of a break from the candymaking since it kind of wore me out and there's only so much sweet stuff I can subject my family to in good conscience. I've tried giving stuff to my neighbors before, but I thought in light of it almost being Halloween I'd wait until like...November or December when it's more traditionally acceptable to just leave stuff on someone else's doorstep; and it's also more feasible temperature-wise here in Georgia.

The outfit on Sunday did work pretty well; I looked really cute, according to the guy who sits behind me in the choir loft and sings bass and might play stuff with me when or if I get to do instrumentals. Ryan is kind of a doll and I adore him and his sense of humor, so it was great validation to hear him say I looked really pretty. I'm still missing a particular friend of mine who's still at boot camp and will be for the next eight weeks; he's going to have a spectacular christmas party when he comes home, but I'm kind of worried that he won't be the same guy, because boot camp changes you in ways nobody expects. But that's a worry for another day, I suppose.
repositorian: (me!)
I've been trying to feel good today. It was the beginning of Shark Week, which sucks to begin with but aside fro a couple hours of cramping it's been okay; I take birth control pills for this reason, because I only get four Weeks a year and I can deal with that. Theoretically I can skip them and not have them at all, but sometimes I spot through and that just kills my day, because hello unexpected wardrobe malfunctions, how are you doing?

That said, because I feel kind of 'ehhhhh' already, and I didn't want to showcase that in my look--it's a thing, I hate looking like I feel awful, more on that later--I put together what I think is a super cute outfit for church. Technically I can show up in whatever the hell I want to since I'm under a full-length long-sleeved choir robe (black cassock, while alb) the entire service, but since I also get there like an hour early I like to dress nice and it helps me feel better about being there. I sing alto, which doesn't have a whole lot of 'oomph' to it for most people not musicians; we don't sing the melody an awful lot, we're not pitched for Disney Princess songs, et cetera. (In point of fact I haven't been able to sing any Princess songs in their written key since I was twelve. The first one I can remember singing in the set key since my voice dropped was Ursula. This should tell you a lot about my range and timbre.) And the sopranos at my church...are interesting. They're split pretty evenly half-and-half between young women my age who *ALL* go to a private university, or older women my grandmother's age who've known me since I was literally born.

There's also about thirteen of them, and four altos. Five on a good day.

So when one of them makes snarky comments at me--and she does on a regular basis, I try to ignore it. But that's easier said than done and a lot of what she makes comments on is that I don't dress like she does, or what she deems fashionably. (I wasn't aware that black pants and heels and a blouse weren't fashionable anymore, but then I miss that sometimes.) So I'm kind of better armed to capital-I Ignore when I feel like I look good, which makes sense. I spent a bit of time contemplating what to wear, since it's supposed to be overcast and kind of fall-like for Georgia, and decided on pants.

Grey trouser pants. My favorite. They fit well, they're comfy, they're not too low-rise or high-waist and they don't gap in the back. I have a white dress shirt that's wonderful because it's half spandex and zips up the front--all the fastenings are zippers, which makes it fun to have a relatively narrow waist and D cup boobs, because hello again, wardrobe malfunctions. And at church it's never a good idea to flash people. Especially not at *my* church, because I'm Episcopalian and we're routinely about as happy as someone who's been force-fed a live trout. I wish I was joking. (You know that line from Dogma about how Catholics don't celebrate their faith, they mourn it? It totally goes for us too, we just speak less Latin.) So there's the pants, and the shirt. And then there's this sleeveless plaid jumper-overshirt-thing that my parents got me last Christmas that I love, but have been really conflicted over wearing. It's black, which I'm trying to get away from, and also plaid, which I've never worn before.

But. It looks really really cute. And though the whole outfit is undeniably masculine, everything's made for women so it's not really...boxy, I suppose? I mean, if my mother were talking here--and she has no grasp of the fact that I'm bisexual--she'd say it doesn't look dyke-ish. I personally take offense at that term for a whole lot of reasons, but you get what I'm trying to say here, hopefully. I'm only wearing hoops and a cross, but it's a big multicolored gemstone cross I got when I turned 21 from my grandmother, because in my mind I can never have too many crosses, since they're a nice jewelry piece and they're not in anyone's face and it saves me from having to explain that yes I go to church and no I'm not an SBC member and yadda yadda yadda. (There's a lot of that around here. Some cities, your reputation is dependent on where your daddy works or where your mama's family went to school or what after school thing your kid is in; here, it's where you go to church. Inexplicable, but then we are in Georgia.)

My only still-undecided option is shoes. I love shoes. I really do. I can get wild with my shoes in ways I cannot with clothes, and still be practical. I can either wear black slingbacks that're kind of low but have a cute 1940's vibe to them with the patent leather and knots on the toes, or I can wear by 5-inch black stiletto oxfords. These shoes, man. They're Fioni, and so were like 20 dollars at payless and I love that price, plus they make me super tall--like I'm not already; these shoes make me 6'3"--and that's icing on my cake. (Mmmm, cake.)

The only problem is the stairs at church. And if I can't walk quietly up the stairs, I just feel awful. I get comments from everyone about how clompy I am and how if I lost weight it'd be easier and all that sort of shit that makes no sense but that people who mean well say anyway. I hope to have this problem--the shoe one, anyway--resolved by tomorrow morning; the rest of it may take longer. But that's okay, I have time. Time is on my side. There should be more of these horrible metaphors, but I'm kinda running out. Eh.

Senbazuru

Oct. 15th, 2013 07:17 pm
repositorian: (barefoot)
I think I'm going to try doing it. God knows I could use the luck and the benevolence, and hey, maybe I get a wish at the end of it. I don't know yet if I'm going to get a kit that comes with the string and beads and all, or not, but I really think I want to do it. I don't know if I'm going to try for October 31st as a start date or November 1; All Saint's Day would seem to be the more obvious choice, but since the idea goes that you have to make all thousand of the cranes in a year from the date of your first one.

Well, we'll see how it goes, at least? Wish me luck.
repositorian: (nightcrawler)
Oh My God, I have such a back-ache and headache and everything-ache today. I'm hoping this is not the start of shark week, because that'd suck.

But on the upside, I've made another batch of divinity since the parents wanted some--the other batch was for my uncle--and am looking at the recipe for candied nuts which I love, but don't like having to cook for so long. The recipe says it's for pine nuts, but I have sunflower kernels since they're crispy and not just soft.

And I painted my nails a pretty glittery grey from OPI's James Bond line, called On Her Majesty's Secret Service. Looking at it is sort of making me feel better.
repositorian: (Default)
Today I made divinity candy with pecans, and I'm also making shortbread because it gives me a good chance to use all the cute mini cookie cutters I have, and some of them are halloween-slash-fall themed, and I love them. The little black cat ones are cute especially, and they make me remember my cat, Baxter. He was our oldest and all black and he kind of hated Halloween because there were ALL THESE PEOPLE COMING TO HIS HOUSE WHAT.

But then we started keeping him inside because one year some bunch of assholes broke into the animal shelter and killed all the black cats, and we didn't want him hurt. (Personally I find it hysterical and just that when the group of offenders was found a bystander clocked one of them across the face with a baseball bat, but that's just a bonus.) But I digress.

Anyway, the divinity I count as a real accomplishment since it's the first time I've made it in a long while, and it's notoriously hard to get it to come together right. Essentially the candy is egg whites beaten into stiff peaks mixed with sugar, corn syrup, and water that's come to the hard ball stage (somewhere about 250-260 degrees Farenheit) and vanilla, beaten until it holds its shape, and dropped onto wax paper. I stir in pecans most of the time, but because I forgot to on this batch they just have one pecan half pressed into the top. It works. The trick is getting the egg whites to stiff peaks, because it's a fairly fine line between stiff and broken. I normally use like, a pinch of cream of tartar to act as insurance; it won't keep you from overbeating, but it helps.

Then you stream in the molten sugar--being very careful, because it is rocket-hot and is for all intents and purposes culinary napalm--slowly while you've got the mixer running on high. Run it for about five minutes after you get the sugar mix and vanilla in, and it should look something like marshmallow fluff; white, glossy, fluffy and sticky like flypaper. I use two spoons sprayed with nonstick spray to get it onto the wax paper; you push it off one spoon with the other, and sort of twirl the spoon so that, ideally, it looks smooth and like the top of a dairy queen ice cream.

Mine never look like that. They always turn out a bit more like this instead--and you can tell the ones on the left were slightly hotter when dropped on the sheet, because they're smoother--which is fine by me because I'm not a pastry chef nor do I really worry about impressing people with how my candy looks. It's all about the taste for me.

But even more than that baking makes me feel calmer, and makes me feel like the people--women especially, though the men too--in my family before me would be proud. These aren't necessarily family recipes, but they take work and the results make people smile, and that's really what I'm going for. I don't know if I love it enough to make it my career, because I don't want to be bullied into making it professionally every single time, and if I don't absolutely love it then that could turn me off it forever. And I'm already mostly done with a history degree. I like it better as a career anyway.

So.

Oct. 12th, 2013 12:56 am
repositorian: (me!)
I was accomplished this week. I made lots of candy; caramels, divinity, and shortbread, and tomorrow I'm trying brandy snaps as well as more divinity--for my uncle this time--and shortbread for me, and will hopefully have pictures of some of the processes once I'm actually done with them. I mailed all the caramels off to their respective locations--so be on the lookout, those of you who requested them! I want to know how they are.

I also threaded a lot with people both in Milliways and out, and I feel good about that. Work still progresses on the sekrit-epic-needlepoint-of-doom, and it's coming closer and closer to being done at last! I can't wait to see it all completed, because just looking at it makes me happy. In church news I've got a bunch of new music to play, for whenever I get to play my flute again, and we're working on Handel's Awake the Trumpet's Lofty Sound for an offertory or communion piece sometime in the near future, and I absolutely love that song. I've never seen the whole oratorio, but it's Handel and I love him, and he wasn't nearly as musically all over the map as, say, Bach. Though I love him too.

It's going pretty okay, all in all. I'm happy with myself more often than I was, which is a huge deal. I've pruned down and prettied up my muse list and am trying to not feel bad about playing those of them that are loud, and not letting myself feel bullied into doing anything I don't want to.

I'm gonna be okay. Really.
repositorian: (my fandom is a total spaz)
Title: various (10 drabbles, all the prompts are functioning as titles here)
Author: Me, duh.
Warnings: Uh, some slashiness? Not in all of them. But it's pretty clear I ship Chekov/Sulu like nothin' else.

(Clicky the cut to read.) )
repositorian: (statue)
I give thanks that I have risen again today and to the great rising of life itself; as the sun brightens the sky and earth may my soul be bright with gratitude for all the good things in me life, and may I be generous in sharing these with others.

May I sing the song of my own heart, sing it gladly whether in joy or sorrow, and may it help me find laughter in the day;

May I keep the vision of my life ever before me and have faith that my life has meaning;

May I be strong in my struggles, and meet adversity with courage and hope;

May I embrace the earth, speak the truth of the land, and take responsibility for my life.
repositorian: (my fandom is a total spaz)
So, yeah, I wrote--and finished!--a fic for Sanctuary. It's short and there's no real plot, but it came to me and begged to be written before I went back to sleep. Hence my being up at five in the morning. The fic, cut for sexual situations (not smut, though it's a minor miracle):

Clinical )



Lemme know what y'all think, hm?

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