[For Pietro?]

Forge was raised on the reservation, in this present mockery of old traditions, where they are all neither one thing nor another; he understands a life lived on the edges of things, in the between places, how the natural and the unnatural can -- must! -- intersect at the boundaries, forcing adaptation, evolution. He himself has been a cyborg for far longer than he ever was not; there is no shame, he thinks, in becoming more than you are.

Beneath his fingers, flesh and metal, Celestial technology hums its delight.

Clarice is mouse quiet, and it takes a moment to notice her hesitating in the doorway. She's not looking at him, but at the sample in the collector, the fine dust cloud of techno-organic nanites. They're practically inert now, blank slates, awaiting reprogramming. Forge sometimes thinks about finding Bastion and Cassandra Nova and telling them how the provided part of the key to this transformation, how their evil works have been turned to good; then he remembers Nimrod, and how his own good works have been turned to evil over and over and has to let his mutant abilities take over until everything is clear again. Clarice is watching.

"Is it dead?" she asks, small voiced. "I mean, I know it wasn't really alive before, but, is it?"

"It's perfectly safe," Forge assures her. "There's no trace of the Phalanx imperatives in the substructures."

"It could be lying," Clarice says, edging into the room. "I, I mean, they do that; like Gregor."

Forge smiles gently. "Do you know what my mutant ability is?" She shakes her head a little, eyes on him. No pupils. He finds himself wondering how she sees and if those markings are tattoos or natural, and quickly pushes the thoughts away as he explains, "I can invent anything."

Her lips twitch, shyly approaching a smile. "Anything?"

"Anything you can think of."

Clarice considers. "An alarm clock that makes ice-cream?"

"I can make you one," he insists. Her smile is wider this time, and he knows she thinks he's joking with her. Forge grins. "You'll see."

His hands start work without him, and he finds himself humming something under his breath, an old song from long ago, when he sat at Naze's side and learned the medicine chants. Clarice moves closer as he works, examining the machinery, touching nothing.

"It looks like a flower," she says.

"Something like," Forge agrees. "It will certainly make things bloom."

"Mike said--" Clarice frowns. "Mike said, no-one has to be alone any more. That we'll still be different, but, I mean. Everybody would be connected."

"Everybody is already connected," Forge corrects, watching the box come together before him, clock dial at the front. "We're just going to show them that. We're going to make everybody better. No more wars. No more sickness. No more disease. No more worrying about dwindling resources, when we can turn the ingenuity of the entire human race to the problem. Just one massive free flow of ideas; the greatest forum ever conceived of."

Clarice's frown doesn't change, but she moves closer to him, shifting restless from foot to foot.

"Something you wanted to know?" Forge asks.

"Is, um. Is Mike okay?" Clarice shrugs a little. "I mean, I don't know, she seemed really sad about something."

"It's been a hard year for all of us," Forge says. "We just have to--" The clock under his hands starts beeping. "Oh, look: the lunch-time alarm."

Clarice gapes as the top of the clock folds back and two cones of vanilla ice-cream are lifted into view. After a long moment, she starts to smile, and then giggle. "That's brilliant! I mean-- That's amazing! You just made that!"

"For you," he agrees, taking a cone and holding it out to her. She accepts it with a laugh, smiling beatifically at the first lick, humming happily as she eats. He takes a bite of his own, grinning. "Just the thing for this heat."

"It is very warm here," Clarice agrees, chasing melting trails of ice-cream with her tongue.

Forge coughs a little, turning away. "There, ah. There are cooler places around Akkaba -- the town, I mean, not just here. If you wanted to see them."

Clarice frowns a little. "Is-- Is it okay? I mean, I know we're hidden here, but the town, well--" She quirks a wry smile. "I kind of stand out."

"Don't worry," Forge says. "I'm sure I can invent something to help with that..."

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Mourning is selfish. Clark knows this. He’s been through it enough times to know that when something is lost it doesn’t care. Sometimes, they never did to begin with, as abstract as those things can be. And if they’re people, well, then they’re usually dead and the dead don’t mourn. The dead don’t grieve. A relationship doesn’t know it’s broken beyond repair, that a love that once was can never be again.

But is it pity? Clark doesn’t think so. For the people left behind mourning may be selfish, but it’s necessary. It’s part of the healing process, he’s come to accept, and in those cases, well, you have to be a little selfish. Because if you’re not, you’ll go crazy. You’ll end up losing yourself and more often than not, that’s worse than losing whatever it was you lost to begin with.

So Clark allows himself to mourn the things and people he’s had to let go of over the years, to grieve for anything and everything that was important to him that he no longer has, or never had to begin with. It helps. Eventually.

But in doing so, you also have to take stock of what you still have, appreciate what’s still around you. Especially the people who are there to help with your grief. Dwelling isn’t good for anyone, no matter what it is that was lost. Another lesson he’s had to learn the hard way. At least he’s learned it.

Mourn. Grieve. Accept. Move on. But never forget.


Comments here.


Muse: Clark Kent
Fandom: Smallville
Word count: 253

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"The problem, of course, was that people did not seem to understand the difference between right and wrong. They needed to be reminded about this, because if you left it to them to work it out themselves, they would never bother. They would just find what was best for them, and then they would call that the right thing. That's how most people thought." --Alexander McCall Smith, The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency

"How can you stand this?"

There are many moments in history where the Doctor can't do anything. He's mentioned them to Donna in the past; the big wars, the big disasters and revolutions, and one particular day in 1963 in a junkyard. She very stubbornly didn't understand his words until Pompeii, until she had to see exactly what he goes through every time they land somewhere he can't touch. Now, she's still stubborn about it, but she relents after a time, more understanding.

There are also cultural things he can't touch, great cruelties he can't change. Slaves and executions and horrible genocide. He avoids these places on purpose and the TARDIS never accidently lands them there. Those places are too big, too tempting. He can't interfere, he's no god. It's better to stay away.

(  Sometimes, though, sometimes they land in places where he wishes, with every fiber of his being, that he could change something. Cut for disturbing imagery. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,480

#326 - "Mourning is just extended self-pity."
- Don Draper, Mad Men

[Chase's You Really Got Me verse | Cuddy is ihavehisballs]

I don’t mourn. What is the sense of it all? The person is dead they don’t care anymore, don’t feel. We pretend we are honoring their memory but really it’s all about us. People feeling sorry for us because we’ve lost someone close to us, someone that meant a lot to us? Basically mourning is just us needing time for ourselves. Any little thing can cause us to morn. A love one. The death of a pet. A chipped nail. You name it we can bitch over anything.
Maybe I sound a little judgmental, while maybe a lot. I do know what I’m talking about. I lost someone close to me. Destiny, she was more than a soul mate, she was definitely my other half. When she died, I closed into myself refusing to let anyone else get close to me. I hide out, I wasn’t honoring anyone, she was dead what did she care?
People are always mourning something.

(sorry in advance for raven's bad mood

Raven Darkholme/Mystique
misc comics xmen
160 words

Prompt 326: "Mourning is just extended self-pity."

The problem with having mortal friends, lovers or simply objects of interest when you're immortal is all the dying.

Mortals who make pets out of creatures with shorter life spans than they have know what I'm talking about. No matter how much you love your cat, there's a part of you deep down inside that's always getting ready to detach, because you *know* that unless a horrible tragedy happens to you, your cat will die in your life span. Which may be why mortal old ladies are willing to take on the burden of loving so many cats (or whatever... have you ever seen Vulcan matriarchs with twenty-seven chal'matyas running around their property? Sure, they *say* it's just logical because the quality of life of wild chal'matyas is so much lower than pet chal'matyas, and matriarchs whose great-grandchildren are adults can pass off all their duties to their families onto their own matriarchal daughters and spend their time rehabilitating wild chal'matyas... but come on. No one needs twenty-seven small, cute, fuzzy, venomous cat-lizard-things. But I digress.) Mortal oldsters know their own time might well run out before their pets' does.

This is not a situation I am ever in, for obvious reasons.

So I don't cry over dead mortals, because seriously, over billions of years that would be a whole lot of crying, and that would positively *ruin* my boyish complexion. Some have accused me of being utterly callous toward the death of other Q, however, because I don't seem to spend a whole lot of time mourning dead friends, either.

( Feel sorry for what you've lost all you want, but don't pretend it's nobler than that. )
Muse: Q
Fandom: Star Trek TNG/VOY

A way to actually piss in someone's Wheaties without them knowing about it.

That would be awesome, man.


(Cut for the overuse of a certain word.)


Bart Allen
Smallville/DC Comics
Please direct comments to the journal entry itself.

A time machine.

I wish I had a time machine.

(Cut for potential season 9 spoilers)



Chloe Sullivan
Misc. TV (Smallville)
[ooc: Please leave any and all comments at the above link.]

The topic for the week of 12 - 18 March 2010 is:

"Mourning is just extended self-pity."
-Don Draper, Mad Men

1. Put current season TV spoilers behind a cut.
2. Your post must be a minimum of 150 words to count towards your community membership.
3. Put posts longer than 450 words behind a cut.
4. Put the topic number and/or text in the subject header of your post.
5. Sign your post with your muse's full name and fandom.

Reminder: To remain current, you must have answered at least one of Topics 323, 324, 325, and 326 by March 18th.

Actually, the real question here is 'do I dare answer this while in earshot of Bunsen?'

Dr. Bunsen Honeydew is the head scientist and inventor of the Muppet Labs, which is actually a real working laboratory and not just a skit on the show. If there's ever a need for something, or Bunsen perceives there's a need for it, then chances are he's either already invented it or will in the near future. Need a banana sharpened, an automatic wastebasket? or some sort of gizmo to detect gorillas? Bunsen's your guy.

Actually, you know what I do wish somebody would invent? A mute button for people. It doesn't have to be big; in fact, it needs to be small enough to be portable and to rest on a small area, but be able to cover a decently-sized space, like a room...or a theater balcony. And maybe it could be operated by remote control, so that it could be turned off and on at the wishes of the performers or theater staff.

That's it. That's what I wish someone would invent.

Muse: Scooter
Fandom: Muppet Show
Word count: 180

Prompt 324: If you, as a child, could see yourself now, what do you think you would say?

Meg blinked blearily at the young girl in front of her, not entirely sure exactly how this could be happening. The red-haired child -- she couldn't be older than 10 -- had her hands on her hips and an expression of great self-righteousness. "You're a supervillain?" she demanded, plainly extremely upset.

( Conversations with the child self )
Muse: Margaret "Meg" Santoro/Dr. Mystery
Fandom: Original

What do I wish someone would invent? Well, to tell you my honest opinion of the matter, there are really no inventions of a particular kind I that I yearn for. Unless there was a foolproof way for people to find God, but it is really up to every individual to discover faith for him or herself. Our Heavenly Father granted us free will, after all, and gave His only begotten Son, Jesus Christ, to die for us and be the Savior of all the world…

Technological wonders, human inventions, can be useful tools if they are used for the service of others, but can encourage laziness if used for the ease of the self. Good, honest toil, difficult physical work, challenges us and strengthens our characters. “Opus Dei” means “God’s Work” after all, so work is something to be valued. The more arduous the work, the stronger the effort and one will achieve better results.

Perhaps doing without technology for a while is a useful method of corporal mortification.

Words: 170
Muse: Silas
Fandom: The Da Vinci Code

I wish someone would invent a way to bring back the dead.

Not those I’m responsible for killing – no way in hell, they deserve what they got and they should stay dead forever – but I wish there was a way to bring back my beloved, beautiful Mommy. The only person I’ve ever really loved and who really loved me.

She should be brought back and we could be together for all eternity, both of us against the world.

And I wish the person who invented that would invent something else – a way to make me human again, and not deformed. My Mommy’s beautiful child, with a second chance, a chance to live life over again in the way that an innocent child’s life should be lived. A chance to live a happy life and to grow up normally. Oh, there are advantages to being an indestructible, undead avenger, but I would much rather have a happy childhood.

Words: 160
Muse: Jason Voorhees
Fandom: Friday the 13th

We're finishing up a few odds and ends before our next major release. Our mighty Ops guys continue to slay spambots and balance load times on a highwire without a safety net (which is kind of tough dressed in full ninja gear). Down on solid ground, we're celebrating this week's virtual birthday party with a warm toast to pants. If you can rearrange the letters of your favorite city, state, and/or country (feel free to combine these elements) to spell one of Frank's favorite treats (e.g., pants, wire, paper, etc.), he'll send you over a can of whipped cream to top it all off (provided you return the empty can for his midnight snack)! And, with that, let the word scrambling commence!

Stuff you should know:

To our paid users, we send squirrels in love!

If you have a paid or permanent account, you can send five free Squirrels in love vgifts through Monday, March 15th at 4pm, PST! You'll see both the free and the $0.99 squirrels displayed until they've scurried off to their new homes. Please send only one vgift at a time. In other words, you'll need to complete check-out and start a new order for each vgift you send. If you're not receiving vgifts (from friends and/or Frank), you may have disabled them. To enable vgifts, visit Edit profile (under Profile), scroll down to the bottom of the page, and select 'Do not disable' from the drop-down menu. Have fun!

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We've crowned a header

Congratulations to ohterlus for submitting the winning header, which will go live next week and keep us leafy through mid-April! You can submit designs for our next header contest at ljnewscontests now until March 31st. We'll post a poll in the news to let you decide which header will sit at the top of LiveJournal from mid-April to mid-May. All artistic interpretations are welcome. The winner will get a $25 LiveJournal gift certificate. All other contributors will receive $5 gift certificates. Our heartfelt appreciation for sharing your talent and creativity!

For this week's winning photo and more adventures with Frank & Meme, we'll catch you under the cut!

( Read more... )

“What’re you gonna be?” Smiling up at me, I finger the full of her bottom lip. Soft and wet and plush and lush, like the air pressing on our skin.

“When?” I want her lips, with my lips. She’s underneath me. Oh, fuck, is she underneath me in her white cotton tank and low loose jeans.

“For real, when things get real.” Her teeth scrape across her lip. My eyes catch there, wanting to see that again. The deepen of color from the pressure, the release.

( What...? )

//
Detective Brian Cassidy, Law and Order SVU
[au]Halcyon - where Cassidy is a teenager

TM prompt 325
What do you wish someone would invent?

Seriously, someone needs to invent a remote control that can be used for real life. Especially one where fast forward and mute works when someone goes into a blah fest and your eyes glaze over. Yeah, I can interrupt a client or an enemy with a blah, blah, blah but it would be a lot more fun to just bring out a remote and hit mute until they’re finished yapping about things that I don’t really care about.

Oh, it should also have a way to show an instant replay. That way when someone does something embarrassing or stupid you can play it over and over again instantly. I don’t just mean watch it like you recorded it. I mean have the person re do it over and over again in person.

Yeah, it can be used for other fun things, that aren’t embarrassing or stupid but I won’t go into that. We all know what I’m thinking about so I don’t really need to spell it out.

Hey, if there’s a tech genius that wants to work on this little project let me know and I’ll front some R&D money.


Muse: Gwen Raiden
Fandom: Angel the Series
Word count: 191
Comments: Here