Below is a drabble I wrote for [livejournal.com profile] caras_galadhon after one of our many strange conversations. She demanded asked me nicely to post it, so here it is. :) Be warned, it's all crack. (If you prefer to read/comment over on AO3, you can find the drabble here.)

Title: Agreement
Author: [livejournal.com profile] empy
Characters: Thorin, Boromir
Rating: G (or Z for Zombies)
Disclaimer: The characters belong to the Professor. I'm just scribbling stuff.
Note: written for Galadriel, because she feeds my cracky bunnies.

Read more )
empyreus: (Nijinsky)
( Mar. 26th, 2013 08:59 pm)
My journal turns twelve today. TWELVE. And it still feels like it's only been a few years, like Lotrips (in all its crazy, wanky, brilliant glory) only slowed down last year or so. But even that was ten years ago.

It's been twelve lovely years, and I've met (most online but some RL as well) so many fantastic people and now I almost feel a little choked up. Wistful, certainly.

Twelve years. WTF.
empyreus: (Nijinsky)
( Mar. 27th, 2011 06:29 pm)
Damn! My journal turned ten yesterday and I missed it. Oh well, better late than never. :)

Ten years. Wow. Ten years of fannishness* (and different fandoms) and randomness, and ten years of reading about the lives of all the fantastic people on my Flist. I love you all. *squishy hugs* It doesn't feel like it's been ten years already, and yet somehow it does, but certainly not in a negative way.

_____________
*Fannishness on LJ, at any rate. *g* I took my first shaky steps in online fandom back in 1995-96.
First off, the important stuff: Happy birthday, [livejournal.com profile] littlemimm!
(And my profuse apologies to all the people whose birthdays I have missed. :/ Damn you, LJ, bring back the birthday reminders.)

In other, more random news:

- I've totally forgot to post the fic I wrote for the 2010 [livejournal.com profile] sons_of_gondor Trick or Treat exchange. And related to that: go read the fic that [livejournal.com profile] afra_schatz wrote for me: Incessant (Bean/Marton and tattoos, oh my) because it's made of win.

- Many, many thanks to the person or persons unknown for the [livejournal.com profile] mome_awards nominations! I'm very flattered. :)

- Oh gah, it's that time of the year again. I need to tackle the Yuletide Signup Form Of DOOM posthaste, but I can't even figure out what to offer, let alone what to ask for. Halp.

- I'm far too amused by the fact that the hotel I'll be staying at during a course-related thingy this week is called Hotel Arthur. I'm completely serious. That's the name. Hopefully the staircases are paradox-free, and hopefully the gravity stays normal.

- I know I've forgot to mention something, but I can't figure out what it is. Oh well, that's what EtAs are for.
Last night I had one of the weirdest dreams I've had in a while. And it was a rather unpleasant one, too.

I had a doctor's appointment early this morning, so I'd set two alarms (one at 6 am, the other at 7 am). I woke up about three seconds before the first alarm went off, hit snooze and closed my eyes intending to doze for a while. The next time I opened my eyes, the first thing I noticed was the curtains of the window facing my bed had been drawn aside, something I knew I hadn't done. Feeling extremely uneasy, I got out of bed and walked over to the window, which was striped with rain. As I got closer, I saw two grimacing faces peering in, distorted by the rain on the glass. (I should point out that while my flat is on the ground floor, you'd have to be about eight feet tall to be able to look in through my window like that.) At this point, I was panicking a little and stumbled backwards -- only to wake up a second time, this time flat on my back in my bed. I'd fallen back asleep, then effectively woken up inside a dream before freaking out and waking up for real. Apparently it was too unstable. *g*

Also, the dream before that one? I was arguing with Captain Kirk about how I couldn't pack anything heavier than muesli when I rode my orange planet across the fields. Yes, orange planet. It was a little planet, no bigger than a basketball, and it had rings like those of Saturn. Apparently I rode it by standing on the rings and willing it to move. No, I have no idea what it was about either.
I just skimmed the list of rejected fandoms over on [livejournal.com profile] yuletide_admin and I think I hurt something laughing. People really don't seem to understand what "obscure" means.

Some highlights on the list included:
Babylon 5 (!!)
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
The Dark Knight
Due South
Harry Potter (!!! This happens every sodding year!)
Highlander
House
Iron Man (movie)
Lost
Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett - Good Omens
Numb3rs
RPF - Lord of the Rings (!!! Can't.breathe.dying.of.lol.)
The Sentinel
Star Trek: Deep Space Nine (!)
Star Trek: Voyager
Stephenie Meyer - Twilight series (!!!!!! WHAT.)
Supernatural (Aahahahaha.)
Torchwood
Ultimate X-men (comic)
X-Men

(EtA: Okay, I misunderstood a bit. It's a list of fandoms rejected over the years, not just this year. (Still makes me laugh horribly, mind.))

And now, back to freaking out over all the stuff needing to be done.
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Well, today could have started better. I was watching the morning news when my digital receiver decided it would stop working. Suddenly, it rebooted itself, then got stuck loading and reloading the software installer endlessly. Nothing helped: unplugging it was no good, unplugging the antenna cable was no good, removing the channel/cable card was no good. I called the importer, got bounced around in tech support, and finally got told to take the receiver to my cable company and ask them for help. Er... okay. I went to my cable company and completely stumped them. They'd never seen an error like that and told me it shouldn't even be able to get stuck in a loop like it did. They confirmed what I'd suspected: that the receiver was totally fucked and should be discarded. I clenched my teeth, thanked them and headed into town to buy a new receiver. I ended up buying a fairly cheap, basic model, since all I want is to be able to watch tv.

While dallying around in the stores, I was approached by no less than four people and asked for help. Wat. I ended up helping three old ladies and an older gentleman find the right type of vacuum cleaner bag. (Wtf?) I don't know why they, one after another, approached me to ask for help. (They were on their own, not in a group.) Sure, I was standing right by the shelf, but I really didn't look like an employee. Huh. Maybe I just looked friendly and approachable (and/or knowledgeable in the art of finding the right make and model). The amusing thing was that the older gentleman (probably in his early seventies) started flirting with me in this delightfully restrained way. It was... bewildering but cute.

In other annoying news: the front tire on my bike has a slow leak, and I need to fix that before tomorrow, since I really don't want to walk to work tomorrow morning. I'm not worried about fixing the puncture, because I've done it before and because it's easy, but I am a bit worried I won't be able to tighten the nuts and bolts holding the front wheel to the fork properly (hence risking it suddenly coming loose). I should be able to do it, though. I mean, I'm a strong girl. *g* And I have a brand spanking new flex-head socket wrench.

And now, time for coffee. Mmm caffeine.
Last call for holiday cards! If you want a card from me, drop a comment on this post. (All comments are screened.) If you need my address for whatever reason, email me or comment on this post.

I owe lots of people comments, too. *sigh*

And now the random bit: I swear, my subconscious throws up the oddest things sometimes. Last night, I dreamt I was attending a seminar held in a pastel-hued cafe or fast food place. The teacher? Daniel Craig. o_O The group was big, and we were apparently tasked with analysing ragged ad posters pasted onto a brick wall outside a shabby corner shop (which I think was in New York, but I'm not sure.) I even remember some of the ads, because I stood explaining them to my study partner: one for Kool cigarettes, and a black and yellow one advertising a seminar on murder. (It made sense at the time.)

Back at the seminar, I argued with my new partner, who was a friend I haven't seen in years. At one point, our teacher (still Daniel Craig) walked up to the desk where I was sitting, said "You're clearly not making any progress, so I'll take your coffee" and took the mug I was holding. (Oddly, it was a favourite mug of mine.) He then turned and and walked away, and that was when I realized that: a) his hair was wet, like he'd just had a shower, and b) he was only wearing a pale blue evening shirt, which left his legs and a tiny sliver of his buttocks visible. My first reaction was to give him the finger, but I caught myself and calmly noted "I won't do that, because he'd just turn and catch me at it". I may have sassed at him in the dream as well.

I have no idea where that came from. Well, apart from the seminar thing, which probably had to do with the fact that I'd planned to see my thesis supervisor today and ask about the extended farce that the supervision of my work has turned into. (I went to see her, told her I wasn't getting anywhere since the advice I was getting from her was contradictory, and I think I got things cleared up a bit. I also managed to sneak in a few barbs coated in sweet phrasing, and I frankly don't care if she caught them or not.)

I also had a second dream (which means I must have woken up at some point), about being in a dark gift shop in Edinburgh, looking for a specific kind of necklace with feathers and blades (wtf), all while being a bit rushed, since I had to be on time to go see Iron Man with a bloke I know IRL and dislike intensely. I disliked him in the dream, too, but I was still rushed. I kept getting sidetracked, once by a grizzled long-haired rocker who wanted to show off a bondage swing made from thin strips of black leather decorated with glass beads, and several times by (adorable) members of staff who wanted to flirt with me. Oh, and I had to find a specific kind of tea in a particular tin, and couldn't. I suddenly noticed I was late, ran out of the store and went tearing down a steep stone staircase toward a back street that I knew was Hill Place. Never mind the fact that there are no stone steps leading down anywhere on Hill Place, unless you count the front steps of the buildings, none of which are that steep. I woke up before I'd reached the end of the stairs. No idea what that was about, either. I rarely remember my dreams (sadly), but when I do, they tend to be rather bizarre. (Not that I am complaining about the half-naked Daniel Craig, oh no.)

In other news: O NOES [livejournal.com profile] yuletide and the other challenges I'm participating in. *deep breath* I can do this. I've done it before, I can do it now.
Coughing and hiccuping at the same time is really uncomfortable. If you're dead tired when this happens, it's even worse. Here's hoping my body is so worn out I'll fall asleep despite the fact that my thoracic diaphragm is doing its best impression of rubber band and despite the fact that my epiglottis is opening and closing like an out-of-control elevator door.

... I'll go to bed now, lest my metaphors and similes get even more bizarre.
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Well, that was certainly interesting. My sister was giving me a ride home from work today, and just before we set off, the following conversation took place:

Me: "Could you open the driver's side door, please?"
Her: "Why?"
Me (very calmly): "Because my fingers are caught in it."

Yes. I usually take the back seat and sit behind the driver's seat, and when I got in, I held on to the thin strip between the two doors for support while I hefted my backpack inside. My sister wasn't paying attention and slammed her door, which meant my fingers got caught. Thankfully the insulation strips are thick, so nothing in my hand broke or cracked. At least I don't think anything did. I can move all the affected fingers, and there's only a bit of pain. They'll be bruised, of course, but I'm fairly sure that's it. And it's my left hand, so I'm okay.

Sometimes I wonder how I manage to get myself into all these weird situations.
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I've been sitting on this for a while, but now about 90% of the arrangements appear to be in order, so I should be able to mention it here without fear of jinxing it.

In eight days, I'll be buggering off to Scotland for a month. *flails* I'll be taking one of the summer courses at the University of Edinburgh.

Despite dancing with glee, I'm also so nervous that I'm actually feeling vaguely sick. I'm not worried about making myself understood (because hi, I think we've established that I'm able to communicate in English *g*), nor do I fear the prospect of being around complete strangers for a month. What gives me the screaming creeps is the general notion that yes, I really am going, and yes, I really will be there for four weeks. The look on my face is probably confusingly like that of the tarsier in my icon. I'm trying to be mature and calm about this, but it's hard when half of you is having a fit of nerves and jittering and the other half is as excited as a five-year-old at a funfair.

Just. Omg. So much to do still, so much to plan, and so few days left. Send help.

Flist people, do you have any useful tips re Edinburgh/Scotland? It could be anything: what to see, what to try food-wise, where not to go... Also, is anyone going to be in the general area during that time? It would be great to meet Flisters. :)

*I know Edinburgh technically isn't in the Highlands, but the phrase alliterates so nicely that I decided to ignore geography. *g*
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Just. *sigh* I have so many issues with it, and I can't even articulate how angry it makes me. (I won't bore you with my personal issues re the topic, at least not in this post.)

Two of the counter-projects caught my eye: [livejournal.com profile] hahathor's Open-Source Knuckle Sandwich Project and [livejournal.com profile] misia's Open Source Swift Kick to the Balls Project. I heartily support both.

Time to move the "Did I mention the kick in the groin you'll be receiving if you touch me?"* badge from my student overalls to my jacket lapel, I think.

_________
*I made it years ago, when I was customizing the overalls. (Long story short, Finnish university students have overalls in school colours and it's tradition to pin/draw/sew/glue/solder on as much stuff as possible.) At the time, I thought of it as half joke, half statement, since the overalls render your figure non-existent and should at least nominally lessen unwanted attention. However, since they're usually worn on May Day or other alcohol-soaked occasions, people wearing them are also thought to be fair game (for anything, be it a grope or a punch) by some. *wince*
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empyreus: (devilry)
( Apr. 22nd, 2008 10:08 pm)
When ordinary people are tired, they flop on the couch and watch tv, read a book or take a nap. After work today, I was tired, and did indeed flop on the couch for a bit. Then I forced myself to get up and go for a 45 minute jog. o_O I don't know why. I don't even like running.

Now I'm pleasantly tired and buzzing with endorphins, and I feel rather pleased with myself. Mind, only time will tell if I manage to make this into a habit.

Stay tuned for tomorrow's post about how every muscle in my body hates me.
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I finally watched Batman Begins today. (Yes, only three years late, I know.) Within minutes, I was assaulted from all sides by flail-inducing actors, and then the killing blow was struck. No, it wasn't Cillian Murphy (though he was very, very tasty, oh yes). Nor was it Rutger Hauer or Morgan Freeman or Michael Caine or Gary Oldman.

No. It was Liam Neeson. Not because he was stylish (though he was, I'll admit), but because Henri/Ra's bloody well was Dark Side Qui-Gon Jinn. My poor brain squeaked with friction as old loved fandom tropes woke to life and pounced. I didn't see Bruce Wayne being tenderly abused trained, it was a bastard mix of Obi-Wan and Xanatos, and I sat flailing each time Dark!Qui-Gon Henri stalked across the screen in his Jedi ninja gear. I waited for him to slip and say "Padawan".

My brain clearly has faulty wiring.

As for the rest of the movie: I won't even mention the pairings that leapt at me, because they cause me to simultaneously want to look for fic and shudder.
WHAT THE FLYING FUCK, UNIVERSE?

After work today, I dragged myself outside to get my bike, not looking forward to the ride home since the weather was crap and since I'd done the early morning shift. When I rounded the corner and stopped in front of the bike stand, it took me a moment to figure out what was wrong with my bike. Some fucker had stolen the seat and the seat post. Yes. Nicked them.

I was so surprised it took me a moment to get angry. Right now, I'm rather amused by the whole thing, since the seat was a) old and b) uncomfortable as hell*, but there's still an edge of anger. I mean, wtf? There were six other bikes there, all of which had more comfortable seats. Huh. I guess mine was easiest to get loose.

So, after fuming quietly for a while, I called my father, asking him to give me a ride home. He wouldn't stop sniggering, the bastard, but agreed to it. I then went looking for a new bike seat. The first store had none, and the second one had seats but no posts. I got a seat, swore quietly and extensively, and went in search of a post, something which turned out to be surprisingly complicated. The diameter is, as one would expect, all-important, and the first bike shop I entered didn't have the right kind of post. Cue more quiet swearing (not aimed at the shopkeeper, since it wasn't his fault) and me heading to another bike shop. They had the right diameter, thank goodness. The post (which was used) came with a seat, but I didn't complain. It's better than the old one, and bearable, so I'll return the new seat I bought.

Just. I want to find whoever did this and nail their scrotum to a fence. At face height. With rusty nails.

_______________________
*It was a narrow, hard racing seat which minor TMI )and which I hated anyway. I was just too lazy to get a new one.
empyreus: (warmest word)
( Jan. 8th, 2008 05:30 pm)
I've been intending to post about both for ages, and I realized they fit together beautifully.

Item one is a recipe. I promised [livejournal.com profile] caras_galadhon I'd convert this recipe for her, but I thought the rest of you might like it as well.

Angel cookies )

And the second item is a wtf company gift. On my second-to-last day of work before Christmas, I found a red box with my name on it (plus a note wishing me a merry christmas) on the back ironing board, and of course I immediately peeked inside the box. What met my eyes made me laugh like a drain. Thank heavens I was alone and that we hadn't opened yet.

Pictures under the cut, because it's funnier to see it before knowing what it is.

Demon... items. )
empyreus: (confused)
( Nov. 30th, 2007 11:31 pm)
It's not like my life is bizarre or anything, but today:

* I spotted my former French teacher buying two squeaking rubber chickens.
and
* I served a customer who turned out to have the same surname as me, and the next customer in line then told me that his sister's married surname is... (wait for it) the same as mine. This wouldn't be so weird if it weren't for the fact that there are less than 3000 people with the same surname in the country.

*shakes head* I think my daily quota of weirdness is filled.
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Interestingly enough, all of these are language-related. Even the icon* is.

Asshat of the week: the (presumed) second- or third-year student in my Translation Theory II lecture group who asked, in apparent seriousness: "But isn't intralingual translation a bit stupid? I mean, why would you do it?" *headdesk* I thought I was going to have a spontaneous brain aneurysm. Just. What. Someone should ask Roman Jakobson to come over and smack a bitch.

"Err, what?" discussion of the week: Translation Theory II participants listing what is needed when translating: "Pens! Ink! Paper! A printing press!" without stopping to consider that the first thing you need is two languages: a source and a target. *sigh* Abstract thinking must have taken a coffee break.

Funniest ad I've seen all month year: this completely worksafe ad for a porn channel. (Found on Smart Bitches Trashy Books.) I laughed so hard my tea went up my nose. Ow.

(*Note for non-Finns: 'kieli' means 'tongue' and has the same double meaning as 'tongue' has in English.)
empyreus: (wtf)
( Sep. 6th, 2007 07:42 pm)
I seem to have an M.A. thesis subject.

Before this Monday, the thesis had merely loomed in the future and been something labelled "To be dealt with", since I still have some courses left to finish. (It is generally recommended that you complete all your courses before starting work on your M.A.) So what happened on Monday? Well, I went to see the head of the department to ask about an advanced course and came out an hour later with a bunch of paper and a suggestion for a thesis. The dean had looked at the courses I'd taken, and then briskly noted "You're mostly done, so you should start working on your Master's thesis now. Sign up for the seminar so you can start. I have some material here that you could use." (For an approximation of the expression on my face when I heard this, see icon.)

I spent the next three days flailing around, trying to get my head around the subject and what material I might use (and boring all friends to tears with my incessant whining). Dead ends everywhere. I finally thought of another subject twenty minutes before the seminar lecture was due to start. I was intensively relieved when the new subject seemed to meet with the approval of the seminar supervisor (who is also the dean of the department).

The subject? It seems like it's shaping up to be an analysis of the translations of puns in the Swedish edition of Good Omens, with an eye to domestication/foreignization, translation tactics and culture-dependent expressions. I may regret this.
I can't get my head around how I always manage to find myself in the most bizarre situations.

This morning, as I was biking to work, I was hit by a car. Now, before you panic, let me stress that I'm okay. My right knee hurts like a bitch and I have a bruise on my left side, over the lowest arch of my ribs, but other than that, I'm whole. My bike seems to have a minor wonk to the back tire (oh delicious irony), but it's whole as well.

The incident (or accident, whichever you prefer) was a bit bizarre, really. I was biking uphill on the pavement, between the shopfronts and a delivery truck, swerving a bit to get past a courier van that was parked behind the truck and next to the entrance to an underground parking garage. Traffic was a bit busy, but the van blocked my view onto the lane nearest me, so I had to guess whether or not I had time to get past the entrance. I slowed down a bit and pedalled on, and as soon as I got past the van, a car turned to drive down the ramp to the garage. I had enough time to wrench my bike to the side, so I hit the front bumper and hood of the car with my left side first. It's not as violent as it sounds, because the bike was between me and the car, and I only slumped to the side and partially onto the hood of the car. All I had time to think was "Fucking hell, I'll hit it". The driver (a woman about my own age) looked absolutely shattered as she got out of the car, and kept asking if I was okay, was I hurt, was everything all right. I told her I was fine (for some bizarre reason I was more worried about the car), and gave her my number when she asked for it. She later called me to see if I was okay, and her husband called me about half an hour ago to clarify things. Apparently there were a few dents on the car, and now I'm all flaily and wondering if my work insurance covers that sort of thing. (It should cover trips to work as well as time spent at work, but I have to check.) I really don't need to have to cough up hundreds of euros for bodywork.

I don't want to have to deal with shite like this. *curls up*
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