noli_me_tangere: (Default)









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noli_me_tangere: (Default)
Screw you, LJ. Screw. You.
noli_me_tangere: (Default)
For three days now, LJ has not let me access the website from my computer. It's only LJ, and only on my computer. What. the. hell.
noli_me_tangere: (castiel)
Title: Inumbrare
Author: Shane
Pairing/Fandom: Meg/Castiel, Supernatural
Rating: NC-17 [not that graphic, but I thought I'd be on the safe side for thematic stuff]
Spoilers: 7x17, "The Born-Again Identity"
Summary: (highlight for spoilers) Meg pervs on Castiel in the mental hospital.
Notes/Warnings: Het, may be construed as dubious consent. This fic was hastily scrawled, inspired by a prompt on the [livejournal.com profile] spn_kinkmeme two rounds ago, I think. The prompt was something to do with Meg and Castiel and Cas' hands. Anyway. This is what came out. Unbeta'ed.

For an angel, it’s practically like throwing his legs open and yelling “take me.” )
noli_me_tangere: (death comes)

Suddenly, all the rain is for you
 and there are compasses
    in the gutters,
gleaming as they point
   an inexorable north.  
Suddenly, the wind reminds me
 in no uncertain terms
   that the flow of history stops
on street corners
   in bar room mirrors,
 thick as honey and slow
with mercy
    it is written: you may lift up
 the edges of the minutes
   every once in a great while.

You may be more
   in an instant than in a lifetime
it says
  if you dare
to tread where some dirty angel

of time and place has led,
  lurking where the cigarette smoke is
 watching chance like a deal
       done with a slip of the wrist -

it will tell you that
 the price of things is getting too high
    To ask the wrong questions
        Or consult the charts
        Or lock up the valuables:
 memories,
  hesitations,
 hearts.

It was a collection of regrets
 and they were small
   and grew with space and absence
and turned a little bitter
 to the things not done
      to the beat of empty hearts
and the beliefs of fools.
 When it was done they shone
   -and I couldn’t hate them
        though I tried-
  for they were beautiful
   like the lies you told
     and the way you held
  what was more precious than you knew
  close under upturned pages
     warm as breathing
    in a cold bed
  soft as trusting
      in the vapid myth of love.

noli_me_tangere: (Default)
Title: Whom Thunder Hath Made Greater
Author: Shane
Rating: NC-17
Genre and/or Pairing: Lucifer/Sam
Spoilers: no specific episodes, but set between S5 and S6.
Warnings: Hell-fic, non-con, dub-con, gore, violent images, bodily mutilation, psychological damage, various forms of graphic sex, graphic kink (highlight for details): vomit, force-feeding (sort of), wound-fucking
Word Count: 3,000
Summary: Lucifer slowly breaks Sam during their time in the Cage.

Lucifer inside him was like swallowing the sun... )
noli_me_tangere: (Default)
I'm incapable of processing my feelings into intelligible words at the moment.

Oh, and LJ, fuckwad that it is, for some reason refuses to process my payment even after I try 50 times to give them money.
noli_me_tangere: (curt)
Further proof that the government wants to take away EVERYTHING THAT BRINGS ME HAPPINESS.

"File-sharers, beware: By July 12, major US Internet service providers (ISPs) will voluntarily begin serving as copyright police for the entertainment industry, according to Cary Sherman, chief executive of the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA). The so-called “six-strikes” plan is said to be one of the most effective anti-piracy efforts ever established in the US."

The article goes on to give details. After six notices, internet providers will decide to throttle a person's internet speed, or cut it off altogether. I don't know if they will crack down on torrents only, or if it is up to the internet provider. I get the sense it is up to the internet provider. So some people could get away with downloading non torrents, while others might get their internet service cut off. I urge you to click it and read, as we all know people who download.

No more downloading eps of your favorite shows for vidding, gifs, or fanfiction art. No more downloading screencaps possibly. I'm so sorry my friends. I don't even know if BT Guard will work to protect you, but I would google it if I were you. It is a professional service that supposedly can protect you from the invasive eyes of your internet provider.

Just, my friends, please make each other aware. Please be aware of the date JULY 12TH. Mark your calendar and double check with your internet provider by then. If you start receiving notices of downloaded activity, this is why. And your internet service could be throttled or cut off.

Fox News confirms this:
http://anonym.to/?http://www.foxnews.com/scitech/2012/03/17/us-isps-become-copyright-cops-starting-july-12/

Youtube video explaining this:
http://anonym.to/?https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H5OG0R-yS-c


ETA: Petition for RIAA and the Obama Administration: Stop ISPs from launching a massive copyright spying scheme this July 12th
noli_me_tangere: (Default)
Dude.

I don't remember this Sesame Street special, but holy shit.

Big Bird versus the guardians of the gates of the afterlife. No lie.
noli_me_tangere: (Default)
My fucking credit union is still not mailing me my card because of some fuck up with the mail and my forwarding address. They want me to call them and verify. LIKE WHEN THE FUCK DO I HAVE TIME TO DO THAT??

I have no money, no access to money, no ID, no access to ID. FUCK EVERYTHING.

At least that explains why LJ sucks--paid account is gone. God damn it.

In need of

Feb. 2nd, 2012 09:12 pm
noli_me_tangere: (write)
Anyone want to do a fic/let prompt challenge?

I'm willing to write Torchwood or Dean/Cas from Supernatural. Also possibly original stuff.

Who's down?

If you are, comment and say what you'll write or what you want, then give or receive a prompt...
if you're receiving, just be aware I work on a boat and it's madness, so it might take a bit for my response. I just want some creative stimulus, is all.
noli_me_tangere: (no day)
Title: So Nice to Come Home To
Author/Artist: Shane
Fandom/Pairing: Torchwood; Jack/Jack
Rating: PG
Word count: 200
Art size: 1161x1632
Notes: This is a gift I did for [livejournal.com profile] madder_rose for the [livejournal.com profile] torchwood_fest holiday exchange.

You'd be so nice to come home to... )
noli_me_tangere: (absinthe)
[Error: unknown template qotd]

White Christmas. I've watched this with my family every holiday season that I can remember.
noli_me_tangere: (Default)
Hey. So I'm debating moving from LJ - or at least altering the way in which I use it. I loved LJ for all of the awesome friends I had, but times change.

So, this is going to be a reverse-trim, because it just makes more sense that way.

Please comment if you WANT to remain on my friendslist. Some of you, unfortunately, don't have a choice, because you're awesome and you actually read all the detritus I post on here...;)

And don't worry, you have several days because I don't always have the energy to get online after the workday. So, have at it. Leave a comment if you want to stay "LJ friends."

Cheers.
noli_me_tangere: (Default)
Title: Pila Jectus
Author: Shane
Pairing: Dean/Cas
Summary: Dean and Sam find a strange object that seems to have something to do with angels.
Notes: I wrote this fluff myself. Yes I did, and it is dorky and unbeta'ed. This is for [livejournal.com profile] half_vulcan, who needs some happiness and fluff in her life. In fact, you should write her some, too.

As it turned out, Bobby had no idea what the hell it was, either. )

{{May}}

Nov. 22nd, 2011 01:31 am
noli_me_tangere: (empty)
Say nothing
                of April -
  it is November that's cruelest -
and the cold voice of the wind
  the ice-rimmed wings that crack
against trembling dawn
                to take
  all the years of rain
       between Heaven and Earth,
  ferry-man for the winter
      who touches the lavender
  by the door,
     the sharp, tough herb
       that clings the hardest
                   to last summer's soil,
    who says,
      all the roads of memory lead here:
         a house within itself,
   a piano showing silent teeth
     a hat upon the door-nail
       shoes that have walked
    down from the mountains
  to the wet rim of the sea,
empty
  except for three grains
        of cold still sand.
  Listen to the note where summer ended,
it rings in the inner ear
     like a trumpet that once hit a note
  all the way to the hospital,
   you did it for him then,
 and all your childhood hope meant.
     Listen to the winter pull
 her long cart over the cobbled road
     as though for the last time;
  no candle lights the way through this,
      no calendars any more
because this is where time is different:
           summer is in a room far away,
    a car forever winding up the hills
     running fast past the herds of antelope
   the fossil beds in Wyoming,
   still as a picture
      quiet as the gun in its leather case,
    bright and three-dimensional,
        a souvenir looking-glass, a story-book
   from the topsail yard
     to the Uintah peaks;
 you can almost hold it in your hand,
   this rough warm thing like a stone
from the canyons.
  You had a good conversation.
   He knew the way by memory.
noli_me_tangere: (depressed)
It's been an incredibly crappy couple of weeks, and I want to read something fluffy. Or at least, romantic. Or at least, not tragic.

Anyone want to write me a fic, pretty please? Or give me a recommendation? I'll even prompt you if you comment!
noli_me_tangere: (Default)
Worried about Occupy Portland. Typical nameless/numberless riot cop squads surrounding protesters who have moved to Pioneer Courthouse Square to hold their GA.

www.occupystream.com

Writer PSA

Oct. 15th, 2011 10:40 pm
noli_me_tangere: (no wai)
Dear fanfic writers:

The word is "poring," not "pouring." As in, "he was in his room, poring over recent newspaper articles." Every single recent fic in which I've found this word has used it wrong. That's at least fifteen separate fics. FOR FUCK'S SAKE.

One more time and I'm going to declare a moratorium on the word "broken" as a catch-all for any vast set of negative emotions you're too damn lazy to describe or specify.

STOP SHIFTING YOUR CHARACTER POV'S IN THE MIDDLE OF A FUCKING PARAGRAPH. In fact, preferably, pick one and stick with it.

Thank you from those of us who are spending recent weeks doing nothing but popping oxy and reading fic on the internet. Even losers have standards. Good day.

30th

Oct. 9th, 2011 04:28 pm
noli_me_tangere: (Default)
Not gonna lie, it's not the best birthday I've ever had.

In a way, though, that's okay.  I was planning (long before this) to do something fancy, a big party or something, because that's supposedly what you do when your physical body has reached this arbitrarily significant number of years of age.  To be honest, it's almost better this way, because I'm not sure many of my friends would have come, and then I would have felt disappointed, somehow, like I'd failed to mark this "milestone" appropriately.  

Instead, something far more significant has happened, something far deeper and more life-changing.  It's that thing on which I should focus now, instead of assigning such morbid significance to turning 30.  It's not the number of years, it's the stage in life.  

Of course, the fact that my dad is gone is such a huge thing--something so much more terrifying and at the same time inspiring than checking off three decades.  Terrifying, because it brings into sharper focus everything that I haven't done.  In a way, I'm at the worst point so far in my life: I am more broke than I've ever been, yet with more debt that I've ever had.  I haven't written anything.  I have no job and no career, no place to live except sponging off of my mom, no working car, no immediate and attainable goals.  My dad is gone, and I'm not in a position to be of very much help to my mom.  At the same time, it's the depth from which everything has to change.  Either everything will, or nothing will, and of course the latter seems so much more possible and horrible.

I can feel the pattern of depression already dragging at me--the lack of impulse to do anything productive, the panic at how insurmountable all problems seem.  The easy, if dreadful, consistency of doing nothing.  The exhaustion, even after twelve hours of sleep.

Logically, I'm a believer in the Universe helping those who help themselves, but sometimes I just want to give in, breathe and not think, surrender myself and hope for some kind of divinity.

Today, I feel caught somewhere between the two.  It's not the manic feeling of starting fifty projects at once, but it's not entirely the profound hopelessness that I will never achieve anything.  It's more the despondent, but calm, realization that I have to achieve something, and that that something might be so much smaller and so much more insignificant than I'd ever wanted.
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