meme/poll

writing implements

In celebration of actual writing being done this week, I give you this poll:

I prefer to write with

roller ball pen
1(7.7%)
ball point pen
0(0.0%)
fountain pen
1(7.7%)
gel pen
2(15.4%)
pencil!
0(0.0%)
...don't you even *think* about combining the words "bat" and "pen"
2(15.4%)
if I say "crayon", will you laugh at me?
0(0.0%)

Also, help me write my WIP(s)! Tell me your favorite part of spring, and I'll write a chunk of Things Already Seen in the comments. Unless you specify something else, which would also be great. Right now, all I really care about is getting back in the habit of writing on a regular basis.
Being from the south there comes a point every year when you will walk outside in the morning and everything will be covered in a fine yellow-green pollen - cars, sidewalks, streets, other plants... EVERYTHING! When I take the puppy for a walk she turns yellow. It makes me sneeze and my asthma hates it, but - for some odd reason - I love it; it means spring is really here. One of the things I love to do is get in my car and turn on the windshield wipers and just watch the pollen swirling away.

Does this make me weird?
This reminds me of the spring rowing season (which I have to wake up early for tomorrow...sadness); the first few weeks the water in the Severn is actually opaque because of the layer of yellow pollen on the surface - the oars and the sides of the boat get covered in it, so we have to rinse them after every practice for a while.

Also: there is no such thing as spring in Florida. I wonder, is there springtime in Atlantis, it being all waterbound and such? For that matter, how cold is the ocean? Hmm...
We have a pond in the middle of the business park where I work. Watching the ducks swim across it, cutting through the layer of pollen floating on top, is another spring feature. Wonder how they get it out of their feathers?

I wonder, is there springtime in Atlantis, it being all waterbound and such? For that matter, how cold is the ocean? Hmm...

One of the things I would have loved to see was changing seasons in Atlantis, but apparently the entire planet was a temperate zone. :/ Do the Marines practice their swimming off of one of piers? What do the Athosians wear when it snows? Forget bathroom facilities! How do they de-ice the puddlejumpers?
The breeze blowing in across the empty city smells ever so faintly of brine and ancient mental, like memories and hope. The brush of it against John's skin comes like a warning to be patient: push too hard, too soon, and he might ruin his chances to change anything for the better, might accidentally change everything for the worse.

So he tilts his head in seeming agreement and does not argue. "I'm hoping Rodney can get some usable info on the address Ford copied down, and my men are currently hunting for anything that might be useful in a covert rescue attempt--scientists in tow, of course." Elizabeth looks at him oddly when he says this (*McKay*, he chastises himself), but he can't interpret her expression.

"Very well, Major. But until you do have sufficient information and some kind of tactical advantage such that your rescue attempt won't actually be a suicide mission, I will not authorize any offworld activity."

"Any?" John inquires, bemused. Elizabeth colors slightly.

"Beyond what's necessary for the continued survival of this expedition."

"Ah." John doesn't point out the loophole.

Edited at 2010-04-08 02:35 am (UTC)
“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.”

"That's something else we need to talk about--how do we know we can trust them? For all we know, they could be lying through their teeth and you just got caught in the middle of a private feud. Or maybe one of them called the Wraith in on you." For a moment John wants nothing more than to punch her square in the nose, because Teyla--the Athosians--they *never*--

He takes a ragged breath and reminds himself of when he is, of who he's speaking to. "If you could call cattle being slaughtered a feud, or think it's likely that someone would allow their home to be utterly destroyed simply because of some random people that wandered in for a chat. Ma'am," and this is easier if he thinks of her as a superior to be persuaded, not an almost-friend, "the Athosians were clearly shocked that we had never heard of the Wraith, and just as clearly didn't think there was anything to be gained by defending themselves. They *warned* us about the Wraith."

"All right," Elizabeth says, looking slightly taken aback by the force and extent of his reply. "So we give them a place to stay for the moment. But that doesn't change the fact that we're in no position to mount a rescue mission. We have no information, limited resources, and for all we know, there's no one left to rescue."

In which Bruce deals with the fallout from The Dark Knight in a perfectly sane and rational manner.

After the whole big mess with the Joker, Bruce takes a week or so to pull himself together. His injuries are mostly internal, insubstantial, but they’re enough to slow him down, and he can’t afford that now. Not with both sides of the law gunning for him and Gordon forced to play prosecutor.

(And justly so, as it was Batman’s failures that—

But no. Bruce failed, not Batman. Bruce was distracted, Bruce was selfish, Bruce blinked and the whole thing came tumbling down, and now people are dead who wouldn’t be otherwise. Harvey’s dead. Rachel’s dead. But Gordon’s son isn’t, and that’s something.)

And so Bruce is sitting in a uncomfortable mod armchair (he misses the giant wingbacks of his childhood), an over-priced and oh-so-stylish laptop balanced on his knees, surfing the ‘net, because it’s either that or go batshit crazy.

Ha.
Leaving the winter blues behind. Spring gives me renewed energy. (Doesn't mean I do anything with it ;-))
random snippet of 'things already seen'!
“Very well, Major. But until you do have sufficient information and some kind of tactical advantage such that your rescue attempt won’t actually be a suicide mission, I will not authorize any offworld activity.”

“Any offworld activity?” John repeats, taken aback by her vehemence. Elizabeth colors slightly.

“Beyond what’s necessary for the continued survival of this expedition.”

“Ah,” John says, and doesn’t point out the loophole. Instead, he radios Ford to ask the Athosians' current location, and then walks Elizabeth over to meet her first set of allies. Both parties seem to make a good impression on each other, so John leaves them to it and snags Ford on his way out.

“You know the troops better than I do,” he begins, a lie that would’ve been true if his life hadn’t apparently started working like a video game. “If you needed to put together a team for covert prisoner extraction, who would you pick?”

Ford visibly brightens at this, and from the speed with which he launches into his answer, he’s been playing with the idea ever since they got back to the city.
The warmth. Love the rising temps and being able to go from sweaters to light long-sleeved shirts. I also have more of a desire to go places and do things when spring comes.
another snippet of 'things already seen'!
“You know the troops better than I do,” he begins, a lie that would’ve been true if his life hadn’t apparently started working like a video game. “If you needed to put together a team for covert prisoner extraction, who would you pick?”

Ford visibly brightens at this, and from the speed with which he launches into his answer, he’s been playing with the idea ever since they got back to the city. And most of his suggestions are sound, although Markham (who has just enough of a gene marker to fly the puddle jumpers without the aid of modern medicine) will have to be switched in as copilot, and one person will have to be switched out: Ford.

John looks at Ford’s shining face and remembers all their missions together and knows it must needs be done, but he can’t quite force the words out yet. Not now. So he settles for “Sounds good, Lieutenant,” and leaves it at that. Maybe he’ll regret it later, maybe not. There’s still plenty of time for everything to fall apart around his ears regardless of how he handles this small matter.