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tanarillToday, I have things and stuff:
I need more icons. I have a default icon (Bastet, who pwns you); an icon for bitchy/having fun, which is for me much the same thing; and an icon for horny/having sex. I need an icon for happy, one for sad, one for sleepy, and one for my girlfriend. I like animations, but pretty screenshots are nice too. Interwebs, if you feel like either providing icons or instructions of What I Must Do To Make Animate Icons Without Photoshop, 'Cause I Don't Own It, I would not be unhappy. In a drabble-writing kind of way, probably.
Title: Sick
Fandom: ASRP, but Bitch Hartman (that ty-po has mutated) still owns DP
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Dan talks
“Feeling better and worse than I did yesterday,” replied Heres Tanarill. “Sick. I’d really like a week in bed to cough and sleep. But at least I’m not quite so depressed.” She looked at him in interest. “Can ghosts catch colds?”
“I’ve never done it. It would get in the way of fucking.”
“Right. I do. I shouldn’t, because I spent ages working on making these simulacra repel bacteria and viruses, but–battle plans seldom survive first contact with the enemy. Bacteria evolved, the simulacrum didn’t. Eventually, I got sick.” She coughed, except that it wasn’t so much a cough as a full-body shudder. “And now I have to rely on the normal human immune system gets rid of it and am always miserable when I get sick.”
“You,” said Dan, “are fucking pissed off. I know because you’re never not fucking pissed off. Except for yesterday, but that was just plain creepy. Get angry. You’re much funner when you’re angry.”
“Much more fun,” corrected Heres Tanarill automatically, and then, “The issue here is that I’m never just angry. I’m angry at things . . . I don’t suppose you might get me some chicken soup?”
“No,” said Dan. He was not her nursemaid. He poked her. “Be angry.”
“Dan,” she half-wheedled, before her voice broke and the rest of it finished as a whine.
Still poking. “You pissed off yet?”
A maid’s outfit fell out of midair and landed on Dan. It had small note attached, which Dan read. Then he crumpled it and shouted, “I’m going to fucking kill Clockwork!”
In the background, Heres Tanarill was making a wheezing sound that it took Dan a moment to realize was laughter. This didn’t help.
Her saying, “I’ll join you,” did, a little, though.
Anyone who follows Neil Gaiman's Blog will already know this, but I thought I'd mention that while it makes a crap Oracle, Neil Gamain's Magnificent Oracular Journal does make a good auto-prompt machine. You pick up the ball, shake it, and see what it says. You do have to wait until something that has no real bearing on anything comes up, but when it does the prompts are, indeed, magnificent. For example:
Title: Origami People
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Prompt: "Over the years, I've noticed a number of interesting Origami people in my line"
Over the years, he had noticed a large number of interesting Origami people in his line.
Generally, Origami people were just that–people made of origami, usually the servants of some power witch or wizard–and had no more personality than the paper they were made of. But sometimes one found the other kind of Origami people, the ones made by witches and wizards who didn’t yet know what they were, or the hopes of a person who has no other hope, or simply the pure artistry of a poet as he tried to put to paper the sound of a happy baby.
These Origami people were different. They were, often, not so gaudy as their more magical counterparts: they were paper that was not creamy white and speckled with gold and embossed with a monogram, and they were not so perfect in their manners and their true nature showed through quite often. But, for all that, they were more real than any of those creations of the powerful mages.
Still, they stood as patiently in line as any other, and this was important. When he came to town, people stood in line for the chance to browse through his cart, which was much bigger on the inside then the outside, for a few short minutes and find what it was they needed. No one could wait the line for another, as many magic users had discovered to their dismay, often quite late in the day when there was no chance that they’d get to the front of the line before he closed and left. But the interesting Origami people . . .
. . . often, they just came to talk to him, or they came with gifts that were small and still quite large enough to blanket the world. Or they came asking the same, for their little masters and mistresses and the lonely old women with whom they stayed and the animals that they cared for. They didn’t have to, and they knew that it was a day of a time that was too short as it was, but they came anyway, for some reason known only unto themselves.
He did what he could, binding the small and wonderful magics that made them and capping them and teaching them to draw, and much as possible, from joy. It was not much, but it would see to it that they could linger perhaps a few months longer than they otherwise would have, fighting despair and planting joy where they went.
There was little enough small magic as it was; and if they chose to make of themselves gifts to the world, these interesting, plain Origami people, who was he to stop them?
I had Thai curry for lunch today. My eyeballs are sweating.
I need more icons. I have a default icon (Bastet, who pwns you); an icon for bitchy/having fun, which is for me much the same thing; and an icon for horny/having sex. I need an icon for happy, one for sad, one for sleepy, and one for my girlfriend. I like animations, but pretty screenshots are nice too. Interwebs, if you feel like either providing icons or instructions of What I Must Do To Make Animate Icons Without Photoshop, 'Cause I Don't Own It, I would not be unhappy. In a drabble-writing kind of way, probably.
Title: Sick
Fandom: ASRP, but Bitch Hartman (that ty-po has mutated) still owns DP
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Dan talks
“Feeling better and worse than I did yesterday,” replied Heres Tanarill. “Sick. I’d really like a week in bed to cough and sleep. But at least I’m not quite so depressed.” She looked at him in interest. “Can ghosts catch colds?”
“I’ve never done it. It would get in the way of fucking.”
“Right. I do. I shouldn’t, because I spent ages working on making these simulacra repel bacteria and viruses, but–battle plans seldom survive first contact with the enemy. Bacteria evolved, the simulacrum didn’t. Eventually, I got sick.” She coughed, except that it wasn’t so much a cough as a full-body shudder. “And now I have to rely on the normal human immune system gets rid of it and am always miserable when I get sick.”
“You,” said Dan, “are fucking pissed off. I know because you’re never not fucking pissed off. Except for yesterday, but that was just plain creepy. Get angry. You’re much funner when you’re angry.”
“Much more fun,” corrected Heres Tanarill automatically, and then, “The issue here is that I’m never just angry. I’m angry at things . . . I don’t suppose you might get me some chicken soup?”
“No,” said Dan. He was not her nursemaid. He poked her. “Be angry.”
“Dan,” she half-wheedled, before her voice broke and the rest of it finished as a whine.
Still poking. “You pissed off yet?”
A maid’s outfit fell out of midair and landed on Dan. It had small note attached, which Dan read. Then he crumpled it and shouted, “I’m going to fucking kill Clockwork!”
In the background, Heres Tanarill was making a wheezing sound that it took Dan a moment to realize was laughter. This didn’t help.
Her saying, “I’ll join you,” did, a little, though.
Anyone who follows Neil Gaiman's Blog will already know this, but I thought I'd mention that while it makes a crap Oracle, Neil Gamain's Magnificent Oracular Journal does make a good auto-prompt machine. You pick up the ball, shake it, and see what it says. You do have to wait until something that has no real bearing on anything comes up, but when it does the prompts are, indeed, magnificent. For example:
Title: Origami People
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Prompt: "Over the years, I've noticed a number of interesting Origami people in my line"
Over the years, he had noticed a large number of interesting Origami people in his line.
Generally, Origami people were just that–people made of origami, usually the servants of some power witch or wizard–and had no more personality than the paper they were made of. But sometimes one found the other kind of Origami people, the ones made by witches and wizards who didn’t yet know what they were, or the hopes of a person who has no other hope, or simply the pure artistry of a poet as he tried to put to paper the sound of a happy baby.
These Origami people were different. They were, often, not so gaudy as their more magical counterparts: they were paper that was not creamy white and speckled with gold and embossed with a monogram, and they were not so perfect in their manners and their true nature showed through quite often. But, for all that, they were more real than any of those creations of the powerful mages.
Still, they stood as patiently in line as any other, and this was important. When he came to town, people stood in line for the chance to browse through his cart, which was much bigger on the inside then the outside, for a few short minutes and find what it was they needed. No one could wait the line for another, as many magic users had discovered to their dismay, often quite late in the day when there was no chance that they’d get to the front of the line before he closed and left. But the interesting Origami people . . .
. . . often, they just came to talk to him, or they came with gifts that were small and still quite large enough to blanket the world. Or they came asking the same, for their little masters and mistresses and the lonely old women with whom they stayed and the animals that they cared for. They didn’t have to, and they knew that it was a day of a time that was too short as it was, but they came anyway, for some reason known only unto themselves.
He did what he could, binding the small and wonderful magics that made them and capping them and teaching them to draw, and much as possible, from joy. It was not much, but it would see to it that they could linger perhaps a few months longer than they otherwise would have, fighting despair and planting joy where they went.
There was little enough small magic as it was; and if they chose to make of themselves gifts to the world, these interesting, plain Origami people, who was he to stop them?
I had Thai curry for lunch today. My eyeballs are sweating.
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no subject
Date: 2007-03-06 06:06 pm (UTC)Except Dan.the oragami thing just. Oh *wow*. So heartful.
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Date: 2007-03-06 06:41 pm (UTC)Dan too, if he's with FS or CW.o////o Thanks!
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Date: 2007-03-06 07:03 pm (UTC)But alas he isn't right now. Woe.[snuggles]
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Date: 2007-03-07 06:55 am (UTC)I now have the urge to write that . . .[cuddles]
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Date: 2007-03-07 07:01 am (UTC)dooo iiiit. You know there has to be a reason dan has such UST with Valerie![pets]
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Date: 2007-03-07 07:02 am (UTC)But yes write schoolgiurl!Dan as well!
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Date: 2007-03-06 06:07 pm (UTC)I got: "(Each of them is dead in a different interesting way.)"
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Date: 2007-03-06 06:40 pm (UTC)(Wriiiiiiite eeeeet. Wriiiiiiiiite eeeeeeeeet.)