[sticky entry] Sticky: Master List and Stuff

Dec. 28th, 2010 09:30 pm
kasihya: autopsied corpse of Will Graham from NBC's Hannibal (Default)
Welcome! I can't imagine what's actually brought another human being to this page, but whatever, you're here. Hello other person! Feel free to poke around/say hello/run screaming in the opposite direction.

I use this journal to post all of my writing -- all of it, even the really awful stuff -- and meta and stuff. Occasionally personal things. This post is my list to keep track of actual writing. The majority of it is original fiction, with a small but growing collection of fanfics and outlines of fanfics that I will never actually write. If you see weirdly-spaced gaps, there are whited-out links there to out-of-date writing, because I have a continually-evolving canon.

fandom things )

gallows hill )

miscellaneous original )

rift worlds )

sixth world )

novel-related endeavors )

apocalyptic continuity )

Magna Carta

Last Updated: 2013.2.27
kasihya: autopsied corpse of Will Graham from NBC's Hannibal (Default)
The time is upon us once again!

dear yuletide author )
kasihya: autopsied corpse of Will Graham from NBC's Hannibal (Default)
Update, I am not dead. I may go back to working on the End of Days, because I really like the idea, and I like the characters. And transcendental eldritch horrors. So ... yep. I need to go print that out.

I go back to school next week. But also I don't really care about updating here because it's just talking to the void, and I discovered that I like people at this point in time and I want to be around people.
kasihya: (turchwad)
Table Here

Let's give this another go. It's been far too long since I wrote anything of substance.

howdy y'all

Aug. 3rd, 2013 07:03 pm
kasihya: autopsied corpse of Will Graham from NBC's Hannibal (Default)
It's been a while. I'm still trying to make sense of life, because I thought I had a handle on what I wanted to do, and then I went away to field school for six weeks, met a whole bunch of new people, cleaned skeletons, and reevaluated my life. I've got a couple new ideas floating around in my head, and they're all pretty awesome options, but I can't really do much with all of the new thoughts until I get back to school and incorporate that into my new plans as well.

Will type up more later. Right now, I'm busy organizing music in order to avoid doing laundry and organizing the clusterfuck that is my room after two rounds of unpacking (from school, and from San Jose de Moro) without any cleanup. I also, at some point, want to put together a SJM playlist, because that's how I do nostalgia.
kasihya: autopsied corpse of Will Graham from NBC's Hannibal (will)
For a while I thought I was somewhere on the autism spectrum, and I'm still not sure that that's not true. But one effect of the whole “crippling social anxiety from the age of three onward” thing is that I just didn't interact with people the way I should have, and so I didn't learn the social skills that I should have learned, and I didn't learn about how other people functioned the way that I should have. And it's not like I didn't have any friends, because I did, but they were shallow friendships confined to school – I rarely had friends over or went over to other people's houses – and I just didn't get it. It seemed like everyone else had this instinct for how to deepen and maintain friendships that I was missing, and I couldn't interpret it. I couldn't crack the code.

not very nice pity party inside )
kasihya: (naruto)
Real life has done a number on me lately, and I'm trying to sort through all of it without feeling totally overwhelmed. I haven't been writing lately as a result - not creatively, anyway. I have been doing a lot of introspective writing.

"Ты мне нравишся"


May. 21st, 2013 11:30 pm
kasihya: (naruto)
Yes, this is what I do with myself when it's hot and I can't write narrative stories: I write shitty semi-poetry about being enclosed in an environment nearly a hundred degrees in temperature.

I want to pry you open with my bare hands and curl up inside you. I want to press myself close to you, skin on skin so there is no end to you or beginning of me. I want to drag my nails down your chest, along your sternum and down to your stomach, slicing through the skin to your bones. I want to pry the cartilage from your ribs. I want to open them up like a door, and I want to slide through the gap into the cavity of your chest. I want to close your ribs around me. I want you to press your skin back together with your fingertips, sew it shut and seal me in. I want to lie there, curled inside you, resting against your lungs as they expand and contract with each breath you take, arms wrapped around your heart as it beats. I will hold tight and love you from the inside out, and you will keep me safe within the confines of your chest, carry me with you as you get up and go about your day.
kasihya: (doctor who)
Obviously I did not get around to writing everything I intended, so I finished up one of my existing fics so at least I'd be sure to get it done in time for the amnesty period. The last three hundred words or so are utter crap, but I just wanted to be done at this point. I hope it fits the prompt well enough.

Title: Mother's Day
Fandom: Doctor Who, with Star Wars references
Characters: Amy, Rory, River
Prompt: Age Play
Content Notes: brief reference to incest role-play
Summary: Maybe, if we had gone to a restaurant off-planet, people would believe that River was our time-travelling daughter whose other mother was a sentient spaceship. As it was ...
Author’s Notes: I’ve only ever seen a few episodes of the 1966 Star Trek, and I’m ignoring the fact that there have been crossovers in comic book canon. All drinks are stolen from geeksaresexy.net, and I cannot vouch for any of them. The Enterprise-themed restaurant is entirely made up, unfortunately.

first-person amy pond )
kasihya: Ned from Pushing Daisies, wearing a straw hat and obviously fake moustache (ned)
Also not knowing where I stand with someone
Like why do you like me? How do you like me?
Once I've got that figured out then I'm good
Eye contact from people I don't know well and with whom I don't know where I stand. This also makes me uncomfortable
People touching my arms
Fans or media producers who cross the line between the two in weird ways
Real person fic, with the exception of three fics total
Being on the phone in public
Asking for help for physical reasons (currently I have a cracked rib and a sprained wrist, and I'm not fond of having to ask people to carry things for me/pick up prescriptions/etc)
kasihya: (naruto)
I feel like this icon accurately depicts how I've been feeling the past week or two.

I've decided to do the Blog Every Day In May challenge, because I think it will be a good exercise in discipline as well as in writing.

The first prompt is: Give us your life story in 250 words or less. The following is exactly 250 words:

Zero: born, Long Island
One: New Paltz, lived in my dad’s childhood home with my grandparents downstairs
Two: received sister
Three: moved to the suburbs
Four: acquired crippling social anxiety
Five: didn’t know how to play “telephone”
Six: first crush on a girl (Jenna); first crush on a boy (Tony)
Seven: started gymnastics; brief stint as a ballerina
Eight: learned to crochet, received brother, first mutual best friend
Nine: joined accelerated English class, rejoiced
Ten: played Moriarty in school play opposite first serious crush (Melissa)
Eleven: refused to wear a bra; no more best friend
Twelve: joined accelerated math class; received 99% in English
Thirteen: tragic year of MySpace and social isolation
Fourteen: started writing to cope with crippling loneliness; first therapist
Fifteen: first serious crush (Russell); two-week backpacking trip resulted in permanent damage to knees; left public school for Catholic school; questioned gender
Sixteen: increased self-esteem; solidified first real group of friends; met future first girlfriend on online writing forum (Inge); rejected by first serious crush
Seventeen: college visits and applications; entered love triangle; two declarations of love from classmates; depression resulting in alienation of friends and diagnosis of bipolar disorder type II
Eighteen: partial reparation of friendships; three declarations of love from classmates; graduation; broke up with first girlfriend; came out and went to college
Nineteen: lost first group of college friends, got top surgery; started HRT and fanfiction; 4.0 GPA; social isolation
Twenty: moved in with new friends; started anxiety medication and social drinking; wrote magical realism

Jess meta

Apr. 23rd, 2013 04:50 pm
kasihya: picture of a halloween village, with a haunted house and bats and that sort of thing (halloween)
I took a break off from working on my HBB story, mostly because I've been a stellar combination of lazy/busy with work, but it turns out that that was a good thing. I reorganized the playlist for the story yesterday, which actually helped me (a) tighten up the plot structure and arcs, and (b) gave me a kick in the pants to actually sit down and write some more. I've even got a title - tentatively called Collateral Damages, but after the aforementioned reorganization, I'm tempted to switch it to Baptized by Fire because that's the closing track of the playlist and it fits on both a lyrical and a thematic level (and, of course, the name is incredibly apropos of this particular character and how she starts her character arc in my story.)

This is going to be my miscellaneous meta post for Jess's characterization.

I see Jess as fiercely protective of her and hers, but not particularly nurturing. When someone she loves is hurt in any way, or wronged, she is quick to go straight to the source of the injury, and only afterwards will she remember to treat the wounds. This applies to physical, mental, and emotional injuries as well, so it’s not always a bonus, but it’s how she works.
kasihya: (fog)
I went and read the brick for an hour or so because I'm stressed and I seriously needed it because when I am not reading Les Miserables I spend an unhealthy amount of time pining and waiting until I have time to get around to reading it. Which I never do, and I really needed to read Richard III for class tomorrow, but this was the right decision. I feel much better now.

Anyway, I've been thinking about brick!Javert a lot, because that's what I do, and I wonder if there's been any discussion about the possibility of reading him as autistic. Disclaimer: I am not autistic. My therapist and I discussed whether I might have Asperger's Syndrome, but as far as I know I do not and thus do not consider myself qualified to talk about this in-depth. That being what it is, here are my thoughts:

1. The man worships rules and regulations, and they govern his life to a degree improbable in your average person.

2. He sees the world in such black and white terms, and he needs to categorize people. There can be no exceptions, and as you can see, when there is absolutely no way he can categorize Valjean as either good or bad, he literally cannot cope with it.

3. I was particularly struck by the scene where he arrests Fantine. It is so frustrating to read because he just repeats himself, and repeats himself, no matter what M. Madeline says. It's like there's this mental block for him, where he can't comprehend the idea, M. Madeline is his superior, and therefore he is supposed to fit into a certain category and have the same beliefs as Javert, and when he doesn't, Javert is incapable of processing it. He strains to fit it into his preexisting categories of responses, even though it doesn't make any sense to do so. It reminded me of the posts I have seen on tumblr from autistic people (or is it "people with autism"? I've seen some people prefer the latter) talking about the difficulty that they have communicating sometimes.

4. His inability to empathize with other people, and to even try to understand them. In his eyes, it's like there's only one worldview, and one right way to see things, and that is his way, and if you do things that are wrong in his worldview then there is no way that you could possibly justify yourself because clearly there is a right thing to do and a wrong thing to do and you know that what you are doing is wrong.*

*This is, I will admit, kind of drawing on personal experience: one of the things which led my therapist to talk to me about Asperger's Syndrome is because I had difficulty remembering that other people are just as real as I am, and that they have concerns outside of their interactions with me. (In my case, it had a lot to do with how little time I spent interacting with people growing up, and I've gotten a lot better since then.)

Now, I've only read the first two books so far, and I know Javert shows up more later, so this is definitely an incomplete thesis.
kasihya: (naruto)
It's that point in college where I panic about what I want to do after I graduate, because all my senior friends are making concrete plans. And while I still don't know what I want to do as a career, I have decided that I want to work through Americorps doing some sort of educational volunteer work; preferably in the West or Midwest, somewhere I haven't been but also somewhere I'm not going to have to fear for my life if someone finds out I'm queer. I don't think I could do Teach For America. I'm going to talk to a representative about it next time they visit my school, but I'm pretty sure that I'm not the right person for that job. Adult literacy, or running an after-school program, or assisting in a classroom, those are all things I think are important and are things I could do.
kasihya: (naruto)
I was listening to "Orange Sky" by Alexei Murdoch, and I wanted to write something, and then I realized it's basically the perfect song for the Novel. And I wanted to write something for it, but I've got to actually pick up where I left off, so in the meantime, I did a doodle from the happy alternate universe where Taran gets to the capital city in time and no one dies except for Siaras.

Taran falls asleep on the floor of the palace, with mud matting his hair, too exhausted to take notice. Beside him, he can feel Neirin, sitting close, his back against the wall. Tanwen walks past as Taran is drifting off to sleep, stops to murmur to Neirin in a low voice. Neirin responds in the same tone. In the warm, fuzzy haze preceding sleep, Taran is dimly pleased by the sound of his voice. He reaches out a hand from where it is curled against his chest, reaches out until he catches the fabric of Neirin’s clothing. A hand comes to rest on his shoulder, fingers curled, and Taran hums to himself before a final wave of exhaustion sinks into his bones, and sleep envelopes him.

Or maybe this is the part after he is mortally wounded defeating Siaras, and he doesn't wake up after this ... I think the sentiment would still be the same.

It's been way too long since I wrote anything for this story.

kasihya: [snowy field with trees] (winter)
I've been on the computer a lot more than usual, lately, and it hasn't been the productive kind of "on the computer". Nope, I've turned into the sort of person who constantly flicks back and forth between social media sites, hoping for something to happen or someone to talk to me. I've even started watching television again. When I noticed it, I thought, that's weird. I'm behaving the same way that I did last year, when I was all isolated from everyone else. Then I realized: I am lonely again.


My standard for what constitutes "alone" is rather high, so I guess that's why it didn't occur to me sooner. I live with people, I can't be lonely. I hang out at least once a week with MR, I can't be lonely. I talk to MM after or during class at least once a week, I can't be lonely. Etc, etc. But I am. I want to spend more time with people I like, different people. I want to do things. And I do my best to get out and go to events when I can, but I'm always going by myself, and I do wish that I could go with other people, you know?

Part of it is self-imposed. I've been stressed for weeks now, and when I'm stressed, I get very easily irritated, so nearly everyone has been -- oh, but even that's not true. When I say "nearly everyone", what I really mean is "R", because she's the only other friend I have. I feel bad for being so irritated by her that I tend to generalize every issue I have with her into a blanket statement, and that's another story.

So there's that. I am lonely, and I'm doing my best to fill the void, but so far I am having only moderate amounts of success, and I still feel unhappy and unfulfilled most of the time. I keep thinking: I just need to write this story, I just need to finish this drawing, and then everyone on the internet will love me and then I won't be sad all the time. It doesn't work like that, and it never works out like that anyway.
kasihya: (naruto)
Background information: I do research for my bioanthropology professor. We are currently doing the osteology unit for which I have been waiting the entire semester.

I was talking to this professor after class today about a project that's due Tuesday, and after we'd got that sorted out, she asked what I'm doing this summer. (I'm staying on campus for the first summer session to do a collaborative research project with another professor, and then I'm going to Peru.) The reason she asked is that she's seen my doodles on the quizzes I hand in, of whichever bones are on the table in front of me, and she said that they're quite good, and would I be interested in doing drawings for her dissertation?

Would I. This is a dream come true. I used to be fairly serious about art, and at one point I could do pencil portraits better than your average art student. Then I went to college, and the art classes at my college are intense, and I focused more on writing, so I don't draw as often anymore. But I still love it, and I love drawing bones. So an opportunity to be paid to draw bones? Oh. My. God.

I'm really excited and I want to tell everyone but I am going to refrain until I am 100% certain that this is going to happen. However, I am definitely following up on this later. Once I'm done doing my current research project, which I had to postpone because I had a million assignments to do.
kasihya: (naruto)
Or: "okay, if I take half the suggested dosage, will I be able to stay awake this time? because tumblr is making me anxious and I need to get work done"

My housemate is talking on the phone in a very penetrating voice.

I read for twenty minutes today and it was satisfying.

Also I went to my profile and it seems I've managed to accumulate over 500 journal entries without a single comment. I think I deserve some kind of award.

EDIT: the answer to the question is YES! Half-dosage means that I will be awake but not vibrating with fear while I wait to present in front of my class (I don't actually mind doing long presentations? My issue with them is more "ugh I don't do words well" than it is stage fright. It may also be that I dissociate when I'm in front of an audience and nothing feels quite real, but given that it is nothing but helpful, I don't care.)


Mar. 19th, 2013 10:57 am
kasihya: [snowy field with trees] (winter)
Cross-posting my sign-up post here so I don't get confused. I checked the prompts masterpost and they didn't post my Ruby prompt, or my Dairine one ... sadface. I might write both of them myself, anyway. And my prompts are posted, so yay! There were SO MANY good prompts, and I really wanted to write one about Jaime being gay in eighteenth-century Scotland, but it was Two/Jaime and I don't know if I could work that.

Username: kasihya
Fandom: Community
Prompt: Britta Perry, when people find out Britta's realised she's bisexual they treat it like the punchline to a joke because of her tendency to be so brash about social justice issues, or assume she's just adopting the label to be 'controversial'.
Posting Date: May 7th

Username: kasihya
Fandom: Doctor Who
Prompt: River Song — so she likes to flirt, and kissing’s fun; that doesn’t make her any less asexual and people need to quit implying otherwise.
Posting Date: May 30th


Mar. 16th, 2013 10:14 am
kasihya: autopsied corpse of Will Graham from NBC's Hannibal (Default)
I don't know what's going on here but it takes place in Schenectady. The idea has been floating around in my head for a while but I don't know where it is going and I don't really care.


We left at dawn on the longest day of the year. Everyone that we spoke to, from your grandmother to my father’s cousins, said that we needed to go east, so east we went: from apartment buildings to peeling houses with broken-down bikes piled in weedy yards, to the huge derelict building that might have been a factory or might have been a tenement house or might have been nothing at all, abandoned before it was finished. We climbed over the fence and skidded down the embankment just as the sun cleared the tops of the trees in the distance, and crossed the train tracks with its golden orange light burning our eyes.

Most people agreed that it was bad luck to talk before you’ve left your city, but once we crossed the train tracks, we were allowed to talk again, so we said things like, how far do you think it is, and, what do you think it will be like? What’s the first thing you’re going to do when you get there? Neither of us had any answers to these questions, so we left them hanging in the air, and we kept walking. The field wasn’t quite as flat as it looked from the roof of the apartment building where we used to meet to plan our journey; there were ridges and dips, and unexpected pieces of twisted brown metal hidden in the grass. You wanted to collect the old nails from the train tracks, but they weighed too heavy in your pockets, and so you dropped them one by one back into the dirt like bread crumbs. I caught at the feathery tops of the grass in my hands and ran the tips up and down your bare arms, even after you laughed and told me to stop.

Let’s go, I said. Don’t you want to make it there before nightfall?

Common sense told us that we needed to pass through the woods before we would find anything worth finding, so we headed straight through the marshy fields towards the dark line of trees turned black by the sun. Our sneakers got stuck in the mud, and water sloshed up into our socks. I took off my shoes after the first hour because we wouldn’t need them anyway, but your grandmother had just bought you new ones for your birthday and you didn’t want to leave them behind.

I can deal with wet feet, but Grandma would kill me if she knew that I’d wasted all her money, you said.


kasihya: autopsied corpse of Will Graham from NBC's Hannibal (Default)
strix alba

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