meme/poll

every year, thanksgiving raises a very important question; also, halp!

Poll #1491470 very important poll!11!!1!eleventy-one!

what's the best kind of pie?

apple!
3(27.3%)
pumpkin!
3(27.3%)
silly rabbit, there is no such thing as "batman pie" because that would be cannibalism!
2(18.2%)

Also, two weeks ago a few people left comments and in response I wound up writing almost 1,000 words I wouldn't have otherwise, so thanks to them and let's try it again!

All you have to do is write one sentence (or if you're feeling lazy/uninspired, a single word will do), such as: The sky is very green today, or I wish the unicorn would stop eating my roses. In return, you'll get the next bit of Things Already Seen. Which you may not care about, but I'm trying to get it out of my head so help me out, would you?
Indexing:
re: Pie - where's the pecan pie love?!

Here's a sentence: The puppy's mane could use a good brushing.
Well, every Thanksgiving we have apple and pumpkin and only apple and pumpkin, so hence no pecan pie (also I don't like it).

*

“Yes sir,” Ford says, just the slightest suggestion of confusion in his voice, and John wonders briefly if Jensen’s name is one of those things he shouldn’t know, but that’s not important at the moment. “Should we go after them when they leave?”

John has a sudden, horrifying image of Ford and his men (John’s men) dying in vacuum, and his “Negative, lieutenant,” comes out as an unintended snarl because he can’t let Ford even entertain the possibility. Losing him at this point would break something inside John, which is a selfish way of thinking about it, but right now he really doesn’t care.

And then he skids around a tree and down a hill and the Athosian camp is on fire and how had he forgotten about that?
I don't know how anyone can't love pecan pie (and all it's scrumptious variations), but everyone has different tastes. ;-)

Second place would have to go to pumpkin. Although I love apples, I've never met an apple pie that didn't disappoint in one way or another. And, frankly, I'm not a big crust fan - I just want the filling.

Sheppard sure is having a challenging day, isn't he? Just the way we like it.
Challenging and long. Or at least it feels long to me when I consider all that's left for me to write! :P
"Countin' seconds 'till the ground, 'cause I fell in love with you." From "Lunatic's Love Song" found here. (Why no, this is most certainly not an attempt to pimp out small bands that need love....;P)

Mmmmm....pumpkin!
fast-forward a bit in the story:

The man standing in Mack's not-yet office doesn't look much like a conquering hero--more like someone who's been kicked a couple times too many and is bracing himself for the next blow.

"Sir," Sheppard says, and for all that Mack's been pissed about having the man forced on him, jammed into the chain of command like a puzzle piece that just doesn't fit and won't and doesn't want to--

Well, Mack would be dead if not for him, and likely a number of other people too, and somehow the Sheppard standing in front of him isn't the same Sheppard who'd smirked and slouched and just-so-barely skirted the edge of insubordination all through the weeks of preparation for the expedition. The veneer on this one is cracked and there's blood seeping through from somewhere, and all Mack wants to do is palm him off on the chaplain and tell him to stay there until whatever's broken has been fixed.

But he can't do that, so he just says "At ease, major," and waits for whatever fresh disaster is about to be sprung on him.
blackberry cobbler. chocolate meringue.

My dog caught a bambi today, on her daily walk, along with a million cockleburrs in her fur.

Edited at 2009-11-28 05:33 pm (UTC)
skipping a teeny bit forward in the story:

Okay. He can do this: he already knows what stipulations Elizabeth's going to make, and he knows how to meet them, and the thing is, she's right to make them. So he just needs to figure out how to get someone to tell him about the puddle jumpers more quickly than last time---just like with Teyla, only hopefully it will go better this time.

It *will* go better this time, even if he has go Rambo to make it happen.

But he shouldn't have to. "Ford, you still have that address?"

"Yes sir! Used Jensen's arm instead of his head, though. Figured there was less chance of it smudging."

Well, that's twenty minutes saved.
If I can put whip cream on it, then it's all good pie :D Except for pi, which I can't smother in whip cream :(.

"Because I get a thousand hugs, from ten thousand lightning bugs, as they teach me how to dance..."
following directly from the previous bit:

"Right. Jensen, find whoever's in charge of dialing stuff, and get that address into the computer or whatever. Ford, you're in charge of getting everyone out of here and somewhere a little more convenient. Keep a couple of Marines to help you with that. The rest of you, grab a scientist and go looking for stuff that might give us a tactical advantage."

Stackhouse, who's currently helping Charin to her feet, looks over at John dubiously. "Like what, sir?"

John mentally pokes Atlantis and the gateroom's lights flare momentarily. “It’s an ancient alien city. There’s gotta be flying cars or spaceships or something somewhere.”

"Or big-ass guns," another Marine---Markham?---suggests hopefully, and then they scatter and John goes up to sweet-talk Elizabeth.
Apple is the bestest, but ONLY if made from scratch. Though the Paula Deen ones they're selling at Wal Mart are a fair approximation....

@Kriadydragon: LOVE that song! It is adorableness in pop format. ^^



O wert thou justice, or daring, or a whisp 'pon the wind, then wouldst I love thee...but inconstantly, and not well.
My mom makes Dutch apple pie, which is pretty much the best substance known to man. (To whom does that quote belong? It is awesome)

Aaand, more fastforwarding!

*

The first time they did this, John had taken Ford with him, mostly because he didn't really know anyone (had chosen not to) and Ford had obeyed his few orders without hesitation. He hadn't been thinking beyond *bring them home*, and so hadn't even considered what would've happened if all they'd failed, if the platoon had been left without officers and Atlantis without military leadership.

In the alien sunlight, Ford looks young, so young, and something twists inside of John, hard and sharp. They’re all so young. Innocent in the best and worst way.

“Lieutenant, I’m giving you charge of the city. Make sure she’s here for us to come back to.” *Make sure no one dies ahead of schedule*, he thinks but doesn’t say---swallows once against the words pushing their way up his throat. Enters the puddle jumper, where Markham waits as his uneasy copilot, sends it away with a thought and the barest touch.

He doesn’t look back (not that he could; the puddle jumpers don’t come equipped with rearview mirrors).

*I leave you more than half my heart: guard it well.*
Thanks for the snippet--'tis lovely, as they all are! Though I'm not as clear as perhaps I should be on "Mack"--is that Sumner??

Er...sorry to have teased you with the "quote," but I made it up out of nothing but a weird mood and random, half-remembered literary influences. (^_^')
No, don't apologize! The quote is awesome, and even more so because you came up with it.

And yes, "Mack" is Sumner referring to himself, and has been changed to "Marshall" in the master copy to make it marginally less confusing, because I doubt he thinks of himself by his last name. I don't remember why he was Mack instead of Marshall in this first draft...a residual from something <lj user="smittywing" wrote, I think.
Sorry dearie, but I have to add my voice to those nasty pecan pie supporters, though I do love pumpkin very much. And have you ever tried sweet potato pie? It's the consistency of pumpkin, but a heartier flavor - almost a savory pie. Mmm.

Here's a note scribbled during one of my seminars (huggles if you can guess which one): You can accomplish a great many things when the battle is simply the hunt, and the enemy is an animal - a wolf you've been tracking for years.

Sweet potato pie is yummy, although I've had it only a few times. I have no clue which seminar that's from, but it's nifty. :D

*

"Ma'am," he says, even though the word tastes like something bitter, something lost, because he has to make her understand the urgency of his request and the sobriety with which he makes it.

She looks shocked by the honorific, but that gives him a chance to make his case. "I understand the risks of a rescue mission, and how little we can afford to lose anyone else." (And he sounds like someone other than himself, but that's okay, that's necessary---he wasn't sufficient to get everyone home the first time, so if he has to become someone else, he will, and won't count the cost until everything's over and he knows how much blood is on his hands this time.) "But we also cannot afford to leave our people in the hands of technologically-advanced hostiles, particularly ones that apparently feed on humans."

That shakes her even more, but she continues on anyway. "Do we know they're hostile? Perhaps this is some kind of misunderstanding---"

"They eat people," he repeats flatly, because she isn't that naive, just unwilling to accept how dire the situation really is. And how could he blame her? Atlantis is the end of the rainbow, and everyone expected to find the pot of gold, not a man-eating troll. "Teyla and the other Athosians were quite clear on that."
I know as usual I'm late (an actual trait in my family. WE were late for his wedding! We got lost in Canberra :D, And Mum made the taxi wait for hers as she had to go to the 'Little Girls Room' :D)

Pumpkin Pie = no. I won't voluntarily eat anything resembling vegetable food (I know, five year old, right? :D)
Well, I'm late too. :P

*

And he has the Athosians now, has his (potential) allies, has Teyla; there’s no reason for them to stay underwater any longer, so he thinks *Up. Up up up up up*, until he finally manages to hit some virtual button and Atlantis begins to shudder around them, shaking him off his feet and sprawling (gratefully) onto the floor. *Thank you*, he tells the unthinking mechanical brain that controls the city, as people shout and cry and gasp at the seeming cataclysm.

The floor feels oddly warm beneath him.