For all you shatter is our seeming, And in breaking we are free

From this meme. Posting here as they're completed:

Methos & Nikola Tesla (Highlander/Sanctuary), for oneiriad

Crowley & John Marcone (Good Omens/Dresden Files), for anonymous

Crowley & Tony Stark (Good Omens/Avengers movievers), for nihstel (only tiny, this one, for some reason)

JARVIS/TARDIS (Avengers movieverse/Doctor Who), for laeria (turned into a ficlet on me instead)

Nick Fury & J'onn J'onzz (Avengers movieverse/DC comics), for sablin27

Tony Stark & Harold Finch (Avengers movieverse/Person of Interest), for marbleglove

Crowley & Vimes (Good Omens/Discworld), for subsequent

Nanny Ogg & Queen Mab (Discworld/Dresden Files), for ciaranbochna

I've just sent the Nigel/Nikola series over to AO3. *smiles tiredly* Apparently, the series as a whole weighs in at some 26,600 words. Huh.

Looking at moving more of the Sanctuary masterlist over now. Heh.

I ... haven't really been able to write, lately. I'm not quite sure why. I've just ... There's been this kind of ... luminous blankness? Full of the shadows of ideas, flickering things, there and gone again. Nothing concrete, nothing translatable. Nothing you could make words out of.

I've had this before. It's probably actually somewhat of a bad sign, in that long periods of this, of the kind of on-the-cusp reaching for half-felt, vivid imaginings, usually indicates a downturn on the way. It's a bit like the high before the crash, though I probably don't have to properly worry unless I start getting euphoric flashes and moments of universal alignment. It's just ... when the world gets a bit more stretched and vivid, and full of shadowed things, I'm usually reaching too far, and about to fall. *shrugs*

It's just ... kind of a shame, in a lot of ways. Frustrating, you know? It's the half-way place, the moment of hovering just within the upper edges of the cloud-cover, before bursting out into the upper sunlight. You see things, here, or catch the edges of them, and it's ... Just that little higher, that little further, and you could see them, they would be ... so vivid, so real, but ... well, that's about where Icarus's wings begin to melt, isn't it? *smiles ruefully*

I hate the falling part. I don't want to hit the falling part. But it's that moment, the moment just before, when gravity catches hold but doesn't yet cast down, when things are clear. When things resolve into something usable, something understandable. This, the half-way place, the reaching place, is too full of shadows and half-done thoughts. It's too intangible and too crowded, and nothing manifests itself here. Just shadows of thoughts, out of the corner of your eye. A luminous blankness. *sighs*

Well, theoretically, anyway. My apologies to all, I've been ... I don't know what I've been. Away. For a while. *shakes head* Been a strange month. And ... likely to continue in that vein, so I may be rather absent still for a while yet. My apologies.

Home is ... weird. I thought I'd settle after a while, but ... not yet. Apparently. *shrugs confusedly* There are all these people ... And more keep showing up, and then leaving again, and sometimes because of bed shortages there is someone in my room, and it's been too long since I've had to deal with that and it's driving me a little wrong. Or a lot wrong. You know.

On the bright side, I'm fitter than I've been in a while. Only way to escape the people is to go on long walks, which has resulted in me doing perhaps a couple of miles a day, just for the quiet. Good for me. Made me a little strange(-er), maybe, because I tend to get introspective when I'm walking, but I'm definitely fitter than I was. Heh.

Fan-wise, I haven't been able to watch/read much of anything lately. I've missed the first two(?) episodes of Sanctuary S4, and most of the fannish conversations I've had in a while have been with my sister about her new zombie book (what is the attraction with zombies? Seriously, I've never gotten it ...). Although, I have ordered the boxset of Magnificent Seven, which should arrive in a couple of weeks, so there's that to look forward to. Heh.

Family went for a walk on the beach today. I touched ... something. Point into the wind, hear the roar of it past your ears, feel the sweep of the sea out to your left, the fall of the sun towards evening to your right, sand under your feet, and tilt your head up into the roaring of the sky above you. It's ... something. There should be words. I haven't found them yet. Heh.

Um. Right. Summary. I'm a bit ... strange ... right now. Also absent. And will probably remain so for a while yet. Ah. My apologies? *smiles sheepishly*

I was scrolling back through my youtube favourites, and found this gem:

Manhatta, 1921

This was introduced to me via my Historical Geographies of the City class, and I thought it was so awesome at the time that I faved it when I got home. It's a short silent film from 1921 (though this version has a modern music track laid over it) by Paul Strand and Charles Sheeler. It's bascially a paen to New York as it was in the 20s, and the forces that made it the city it was. A paen to the city, drawing on the ideals of industry from the early part of the century, where a cloud of industrial smog was a sign of industry and honest work. Heh. It's ... It's a thing of its time, and its awesome.

I found it again just now, and the thought occurred ... this New York is Nikola's New York. Heh. *grins sheepishly* The city as was, the city he would have seen out the window of that hotel room. That's ... that's kinda awesome itself. Heh.

This is why I love old movies, old books, old photographs, what I adore about them, the thrill they give me. This is what I love about archaeology. Because this is what was. You are holding a piece of what used to be, seeing it as someone then saw it. This film, up there? That's what someone 90 years ago went out and saw, that's where they walked, that's where they rested their camera. And we get to see it. We get to have it. This fragile piece of film, and it keeps a moment safe, for nearly a century. Encapsulates a moment in time, a city-that-was, and lets us see.

That will never not be awesome to me. That will never not be incredible. Heh. *smiles faintly*

Short, rough thing. I'm working in short bursts between essays, so it's probably clumsily done -_-; Let me know if you notice mistakes, yes?

Title: Gestures
Rating: PG
Fandom: Sanctuary
Characters/Pairings: John, Helen, Gregory, the Five. John/Helen
Summary: After finding out about the Source Blood, Gregory invites Helen's friends for a little tete-a-tete. John ... disapproves
Wordcount: 1291
Warnings/Notes: Set in 1886, possibly early 1887. More a character study than anything. Also? I'm not particularly fond of Gregory
Disclaimer: Not mine

Attempting to sound out John's motivations from Into the Black. Which, this being Jack the bloody Ripper, went to some VERY dark places. Rough piece, mostly me trying to make some sense of him.

Title: Blood
Rating: R (violence)
Fandom: Sanctuary
Characters/Pairings: John Druitt, mention of Helen, Adam, John/Helen
Summary: Introspective piece. John lying there after Helen's left
Wordcount: 2004
Warnings/Notes: Spoilers for 3x20, Into the Black. DARK. Violence. Jack the bloody Ripper. John's somewhat frenzied here, too
Disclaimer: Not mine

There are too many Johns and Jameses in Fictionland! *grumps*

I only find this annoying, of course, because fanfic has hardwired my brain to hear certain names and go "Oh! Such and such a character! Yay!", even when we're talking about the butcher down the street. *grins sheepishly* But I hear John, or James, and suddenly there's about five or six characters waving their hands, and I get a little confused.

James is, by far, the worst, I think. James Norrington, James Watson, James West, James Tiberus Kirk ... But John is pretty bad too. John Druitt, John Watson, John Marcone ...

Okay, fair enough, two of those Jameses (? - what is the appropriate plural of 'James'?) mostly go by Jim, and the first I will ever and always think of as 'Jamie', because Sparrington has rotted my brain. John Watson is only a problem if we're dealing with Sherlock (BBC), because usually he's just 'Watson', and John Marcone is Gentleman Johnny if he's anybody (on a side note, I would love to see Gentleman Johnny meet Johnny Druitt, because that would be awesome, and also terrifying). But! Too many Js!

And lets not even get started on the Jacks. *grumps* And all of them, for some strange reason, are Captain Jacks. Aubrey, Sparrow, Harkness ...

One of these days I'm going to see Jack/James, and wonder what the hell Watson is doing letting those rum-soaked fingers anywhere near his mechanism, or James/John, and wonder how Druitt managed to time-travel to the 23rd century just in time to enter a ham-to-ham contest with Kirk (or how Watson ended up in Chicago, and how the dear detective is going to talk his way out of this criminal's clutches), or go somewhere into the strange, strange place that is Holmes canon crossed with Sanctuary, and my brain is, basically, going to break.

Or we could just do a James/Jamie/Jim/Jim/John/Johnny/Gentleman Johnny/Captain Jack/Captain Jack/Cap'n Jack crossover of DOOM, and have the universe collapse. What a way to go, right?

*groans* There are too many Js in fictionland. And a surprising number of them have rank. *grins* Thank Heavens there are only so many Nikolas and Artemuses and Stephens to go with them. Heh.

This piece of insanity brought to you by a very fried brain ...

Copy-and-pasted from this thread, wherein I babble confusedly at shadadukal. Copy-and-pasted because I'm too tired to force them into something coherant right now, but wanted to put them up to see if someone else could manage. Heh.

Of the turning-characters-into-animals variety. I apologise in advance, for this one. I don't know what came over me -_-;

Title: Craseonycteris Thonglongyai
Rating: PG
Fandom: Sanctuary
Characters/Pairings: Will, Kate, Henry, Nikola, John
Summary: Pretty much just an excuse to turn Nikola into the world's smallest bat
Wordcount: 678
Warnings/Notes: Utter crack. The title is from the scientific name for the Bumblebee Bat, the world's smallest species of bat (or mammal, for that matter), at just over an inch long
Disclaimer: So, so not mine