chomiji: Screen shot of my Flight Rising matriarch, Yarok (Flight Rising)
([personal profile] chomiji posting in [community profile] flight_rising Oct. 21st, 2014 07:36 am)

Ha, I got a nice mixed nest (3) of bar-and-daub hatchlings by judicious use of only two genes! (Both parents were originally IriShim.)

Read more... )

Deep price cuts for members, of course.

Metaphors of the day:

Still by the shore of the quiet deep lake in the mountains, Saranac Lake, which has not been plumbed (or plumbered, though one may plummet into it from a height and go down a long long way.)

Awakened from sleep and lay in the dark feeling sensations move through me -- today, like the grain of fine wood. As if finely shaved planes of wood were moving through me and I could feel the little wavers of graining. Like being in a certain kind of snowstorm, in very cold weather, the sensation of very fine pellets hitting the skin -- except this is inside, not out, and it is not cold or numbing.

Today's sunrise is quieter and azure rather than the crimson-salmon wildness of yesterday, but no less dear. It is not yet up; I can listen to the turning of the world as birds start, one by one, and crickets, and the gears shift on the Beltway. The Beltway, the bane of my life here, has become simply another sound of life, a sign of movement, the flow of energy.

And the burden of fear is still gone. I think I have carried it all my life, even before birth, because I was that last chance pregnancy after a long string of miscarriages. There was always fear that I would not, could not, be enough--but with the expectations layered onto me by others and perforce adopted, Jesus could not have been enough. Now that is all gone.

gone gone completely gone all the way, in a stroke of lightning.

I am thinking that some of Gretel Erlich's A Match to the Heart would feel very familiar now. She was in pain after being struck by lightning; I am not. But the flow of sensations, the sense of observing what is happening in and around the body without attempting to control that which cannot be controlled is there.
([syndicated profile] ao3_agents_of_shield_feed Oct. 21st, 2014 06:45 am)

Posted by orderlychaos

by

“Soooo…”

 

Phil didn’t glance up at Skye’s attempt at wheedling, because he’d become all too used to it over the past three days. Instead, he calmly continued to add his latest bunch of muffins to the display case. The tail end of the morning rush had finally ebbed, leaving Bean There, Done That startlingly quiet. Naturally, Skye was taking the opportunity to quiz Phil about his date with Clint, and Phil’s continued silence hadn’t done much to curb Skye’s curiosity. Mostly, Phil was just trying to be a gentleman, but he had to admit that Skye’s increasingly annoyed huffs were very amusing.

 

Phil Coulson doesn't consider himself particularly special. He's just your average kind of guy. Only his life doesn't quite seem to work that way. If his meddling staff, and his teasing friends weren't enough, his morning run is interrupted by, well...pixies.

Words: 5331, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 4 of The Adventures of Wizard!Clint

supergee: (gargoyle)
([personal profile] supergee Oct. 21st, 2014 07:15 am)
Ex-fighter-pilot says drones are better than her kind. Also smart cars may work, if they can deal with the nut behind the wheel.

Thanx to [livejournal.com profile] andrewducker
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([syndicated profile] ao3_agents_of_shield_feed Oct. 21st, 2014 06:56 am)

Posted by rvst

by

After two decades of wondering, Skye met her father.

He was underwhelming.

The senior HYDRA woman with the baton things?

Far more impressive.

Words: 1188, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

andrewducker: (Default)
([personal profile] andrewducker Oct. 21st, 2014 12:00 pm)
I may not be able to link to it on this device , but:

Oh.My.God.

Y'all need to go to YouTube right now and see this video.

( edited to add that I really can't get the embed to work, either)

This video is amazing on so many levels.

First level, the way it presents a constructed reality completely at odds with the song lyric.

A song that is on the face of it about drinking and partying as a coping mechanism for personal pain( to the extent that it even includes a drinking game chant in the lyric ) is transformed into a an anthem about the persistence of hope and imagination in the most squalid of circumstances.

More specifically, it discusses how girls hold onto their dreams in a reality that offers them no support, but also, how even our most ambitious childhood aspirations ( as girls and women) include an element of performing for and seeking approval from an imaginary audience.

Even more amazing:

It does this all through dance. Really, really good dance.

Performed by one dancer. Who is eleven years old.

The video is one dancer, dancing powerfully.

And really, I could go on and on about how the costuming of the dancer tells its own story: how the dancer is both a stand-in for the singer, is clearly a girl but the dance is pushing back against performative femininity (except perhaps in the closing shot.)

There's a whole other level of meta-commentary,less intentional, perhaps, involving the selection and use of this particular dancer for this video.

The dancer (who is, by the way absolutely brilliant in her dancing: angry, lonely ,whimsical, desperate, athletic)
Is a reality star in a show that glorifies and rewards a dance style that evokes ' beauty' and typical femininity.

So a feminine and conformist reality star is cast in a role that pushes, hard, against femininity and conformity, but ends with an acknowledgment of how pervasive an oppression needing to perform is.

The whole thing is brilliant.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=2vjPBrBU-TM

Posted by sleeplessmiles

by

‘It’s…’ May trailed off, unsure of how to broach the delicate subject. ‘Nat, Hydra’s using brainwashing.’

There was silence across the line for a several moments, punctuated only by sporadic gunfire and Natasha’s soft, barely discernible breathing.

‘I’ll be there in two hours.’

--

May enlists some help to extract Jemma.

Words: 4569, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

pulchritude: (Default)
([personal profile] pulchritude posting in [community profile] bicycles Oct. 21st, 2014 05:49 pm)
Hello!

I'm seriously considering buying a foldable bicycle for getting to and from work (8 km or so each way), and I was wondering if you guys have any recommendations for the type I should get? I'm not sure what else I should put here, since I've never bought a bike before. I do think that I would like a bike that can change gears and basically one I could also ride recreationally.

Any help would be appreciated, and thanks in advance!
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rmc28: (OMG)
([personal profile] rmc28 Oct. 21st, 2014 09:21 am)
By 8am this morning I had already:tales of success and woe )

Why is there never any chocolate left?
([syndicated profile] ao3_agents_of_shield_feed Oct. 21st, 2014 03:11 am)

Posted by AstridV

by

A companion art to Anuna's wonderful story: The team runs into an Asgardian who turns people into their own worst ideas of themselves, and during the fight with her, Ward steps in front of May, taking the blow of her magic. Now the team has a rather big problem on their hands.

Words: 0, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

torachan: anime-style me ver. 2.0 (Default)
([personal profile] torachan Oct. 20th, 2014 11:33 pm)
1. So busy at work today, but I was training someone to take over one of my departments and I think she's going to work out really well, so I'm excited about that.

2. Irene found that Hataraku Maou-sama is on Netflix, so we started watching it tonight (she's never seen it before).
vass: Warning sign of man in water with an octopus (Accidentally)
([personal profile] vass Oct. 21st, 2014 05:37 pm)
When you reflect on how your country's unofficial national anthem is about someone so terrified of being arrested that they killed themselves to escape.

And he was being arrested for theft. And the police were enforcing the property claim of someone who had himself no legal title to the land he grew rich on.

And the general national sentiment is that this is a song about a loveable larrikin and the experience of waiting for a cuppa... rather than about police brutality and injustice. Straya!

Meanwhile, Ms Dhu's family would like to know why she died aged 22 in prison over a fucking parking ticket on her own traditional land. She wasn't the first and won't be the last. Here's the petition link.
.

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