random flooring poll is random

what do YOU prefer?

wall-to-wall carpeting!
something else!
(batman prefers stone)

Also, I'm writing again! Describe your bedroom floor to me and I'll write a snippet of fic for you. Current choices are Things Already Seen (in which John Sheppard's life has begun functioning like a video game), the originalbigbang story involving dead unicorns and possible poachers, or the imaginarybeasts story about a barefoot princess and the talking fox that's decided to follow her around (tentatively titled Beg, Borrow, Steal and probably a continuation/enlargement of this).
My bedroom floor is blue-grey linoleum. Linoleum (absolutely NOT plastic) is actually a pretty good material for floors. Easy to keep clean and hardly any maintenance. Wooden floors might however be slightly nicer. Stone is hard, make things break, is uncomfortable, not nice to fall on et c., and carpet is unhygienic, dusty and ugly.
I find it hard to believe anything's nicer than wood, though I definitely agree with you about carpeting (as long as you're not including area rugs in that assessment). Stone works okay for small areas such as mud rooms, but no, not something you'd want in the actually living space; that's just a joke about Batman hanging out in the batcave so much.

I hadn't realized there was something other than vinyl flooring called linoleum--the 'real' stuff does sound much nicer. And Saturday posts are unofficial babble-zones around here, so no need to apologize!
bit of fic!
The shoes were too large in some places and too small in others and so soon began to chafe the parts of her feet that weren't already raw from the road.

"You're bleeding again," the fox said after a little while. "I think you should stop at the next town until your feet heal and then get yourself a pair of shoes that actually fits. And won't wear out after a single day's walking."

"They lasted almost a full week," the princes said, sitting down on a conveniently-sized stone and telling herself she wasn't going to cry. Princesses didn't cry, not where someone could see them. "And I didn't ask for your opinion."

"No, you didn't," the fox cheerfully affirmed. "And that's why you needed to hear it anyway."
snippet of 'things already seen'
He can't go on like this: the burden's too great and the task too big and he is so very, very weary, both body and soul. Eventually he'll make a mistake because he's too tired to think, to move fast enough, and people will die because of him. He needs a partner. (He needs a team, but that can't happen now, won't--too many changes made, and not just to the time line.)

And really, no matter how sick it makes him feel, there's really only one person he can go to with this.

*laughs* Being nearsighted is a pain, isn't it.


For a long moment, Abigail's eyes couldn't make any sense out of what she was looking at--too many heads, not enough bodies or legs. It looked more like a child's jumble-toy than a real animal. When Doug had said 'chimera', this wasn't what she'd pictured.

Her first conscious thought after that was unprintable; her second was 'what's it doing here?' She hissed that question into Doug's ear.

"I don't know, but I suspect it's not a voluntary visitor. See the collars?" Now that he'd pointed them out, she did. Metal, marked with distinctive spell-codes and shimmering in that non-visible way that meant the spells were currently powered up.

"Someone's controlling it?"

"Or keeping it alive--whoever built the thing did a shoddy job. See how disjointedly it moves?"


Too talky, but it's a rough draft so I'm not going to worry about it yet.
From teh new living space
I've moved out to the west coast, and the floor for my new bedroom is a light wood that is rather worn and waterstained.

I am very tired from trying to turn big bro's bachelor pad (read: bear cave) into something habitable. Grump Grump Grump. I want furniture.
Re: From teh new living space
*hugs* All moved? Congratulations! (Message me your address so I can send you a postcard or twenty-seven?) And good luck on getting everything settled to his & your satisfaction. Wish I was close enough to help out. :(


Well, Marshall 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 Marshall 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.

He doesn't expect Sheppard to go even stiffer, the naked pain in his eyes suddenly hidden away, leaving only blankness behind. It's like watching someone fold up their humanity and stick it in a box, leaving an automaton behind. If Marshall didn't think Heightmeyer was utterly clueless, he'd be shoving Sheppard at her right about now, but that really, really isn't an option.

"Sir," Sheppard says again, voice like cardboard. "Any way I put this you're going to think I'm crazy, so I'm just going to say it.

"I'm from the future."