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Imrihamun's Electro-Clay Tabletarium
I know 'tabletarium' isn't a word.
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To Readers
Some fic is still here (Dethklok, Yuletide.)

Everything else is permanently moved.
11th-Nov-2008 06:58 pm - Intermission - Yuletide (not IF)
Sorry, IF readers - tonight's post is about my Yuletide fanfic signup. I have lost cool points with the IF crowd.

Dear Yuletide Santa...Collapse )
12th-Oct-2008 08:50 pm - Intermission
The entire weekend I've felt like I had a really good time in a bar, although without remembering the good parts. I started my next game but the headache is back and I'm going to bed early.

Back Monday!
30th-Nov-2007 09:21 pm - What the...synesthesia?
I'm listening to 'Shadow Out of Tim' and I'm only on Track 3, Chapter 2: Blackout. As soon as the track started, I swear I smelled something. Nothing bad - that clear watery ozone smell of a water based perfume, like BPAL Cathode. It hit me so suddenly it was kind of spooky. There's no reason that smell should be here; the desk is littered in potentially bad smelling stuff (breakfast leftovers, mostly.) Nice effect, Toren.
19th-Oct-2007 09:56 am - Dear Yuletide Santa
Actual fandom related info: Things I like: characterization > plot. If someone's out of character, I can't read it. I'm not a big fan of crossovers. I don't RP, although I tried; I think it's a bit of a time-suck and I've never seen good fic come from it.

I haven't read much fic in a while, lately, so it's hard to say what I like and what I don't. I have some friends who write original stuff, and I read theirs, and I write my original fic. The last fanfic I wrote is on y-gallery and should be public in the depths of this journal; I wrote some Metalocalypse fic, slash and a piece speculating on the nature of the Sumerian prophecy that's barely been touched in canon.

I took place in a zombie blogging event on another journal, writing as if I was a priest in a rural place. But not a very good priest. I like 'em better that way. I have had serious debates on whether Caleb (Buffy) or Brother Justin (Carnivale) is more awesome. These have not gone well since everyone says 'But he's the Kurgan! He wins by default!'

Since there isn't much public in this journal to browse, I feel like I should give you some random trivia:

1. I don't actually like movies as much as my public posts may indicate. I just feel like they're more public, and thus I can leave them out in public.

2. I hate House of Leaves. I have never read 'chick lit' and never will. One of the coolest books I read recently involved two messed up priests, a lot of sex, some magical realism, and was half written in Jamaican. I like HP Lovecraft, some Stephen King (Cell had potential and fell dead flat), and lately I've been on a Moorcock kick.

3. That's a name, I'm not a sex fiend.

3.5. Not that I'll say no.

3.75. Okay, I say 'no thank you' to anything involving functions best done alone in a bathroom, or pregnancy (exception is made for anything Rosemary's Baby-like.) But anything else goes.

4. But above all, have fun.

5. Five is a lucky number of mine, and four isn't. So you get a fifth point.
Semi-double-post from my main journal.

To recap:

NIN's new album? Let it grow on you. Even Capital G. Roll around in the ARG if you like your media multi-faceted. (It isn't really marketing. It's just what he wanted to do.) Accept the post-With Teeth Trent that lifts Buicks in his spare time; he's just preparing for a fight.

Manson's new album? TOTAL FUCKING CRAP. It's like one long boring song. I give up on you, Brian. You were much better as a bombastic, unapologetic asshole.
12th-May-2007 12:02 am - Experiment 17

1. I know people involved in this.
2. I may have posted this twice. I can't use this damn thing.
3rd-Feb-2007 08:44 pm - Half a Parody
Back in November, someone (unnamed mostly because I'm lazy and sick and can't see out of my right eye) made a fantastically crap 'request' and I decided to write it.

As parody. Well, half a parody. I got tired.

This is what I wrote at the top of the page:

You want a 'whip, edible undergarment and cat ears' challenge? For Metalocalypse? One of these things is not like the other...one of these things could actually be Metal but the others make me laugh my ass off.

NB: Look into 'laugh ass off' exercise program.

This is the meanest fic I've ever written.

Kayla squirmed. Four should have been early enough, right? When she had arrived, the line spiralled far from the back entrance of the Mordhaus, under the access road. It'd still be totally worth it. The line would probably move fast, she thought. There were some sketchy girls here. But she was cute. As she turned, the fruit leather under her miniskirt stuck and pulled. It was warm under the parka.

Going to be totally worth it.

At seven the line started moving, slowly. As it snaked around the bends she looked at other girls - and a few clueless, desperate, hopeless boys. They were pulled from the line by faceless roadies, a few briefly interrogated, some clothing lifted, one or two jostled back into place (presumably not men after all, but what were their chances, anyhow?), but most tossed into the camp on the other side of the overpass. Kayla looked over at the tents - the boyfriend support camp made up of men and a few dykes - and rolled her eyes. Everyone had to make exceptions, or at least, try for one. And a boyfriend? What was the point? Like you'd want to go back afterwards.

"Jesus Christ, are you wearing cat ears?" Kayla blinked in the hazy sunrise and looked down. "That's a new kind of special."

"What the fuck does it matter to you?" She tilted her head to look down her nose at the girl. Short hair with no particular color, chunky, wearing jeans and a Dethklok t-shirt. "You think you're getting in like that?"

The girl laughed and sniffled. "I did it." She slurped coffee from an insulated mug. "Three-month stint in the stables right after my eighteenth birthday. Some of us veterans just come to watch you newcomers." More slurping. Up wafted the smell of something alcoholic in the coffee. "You wearin' a tail, too?"

Kayla turned, wincing as her undergarments stuck again. The girl sniffed, looked at her midsection, and rolled her eyes. "Have fun. Remember insurance won't cover your antibiotics after this."

She boggled. Three months? That long? Her? Was three months the shortest period? Maybe it was. She dug in her pockets for the booklet, watching the girl continue down the line, trading barbs with some of the punkier-looking ones, sneering at others. Once she saw money exchanged for something dug out of the girl's bag.

Stop, stop, stop caring, Kayla! You are something different and he likes different. There was a faint creaking noise as she ground her teeth together. The girl was probably lying. She looked like a lesbian anyway.

The pamphlet was well-creased. The sequence, written out like this, was peaceful, meditative. Application, line, evaluation, trial, residence. Five steps, two done. The word 'residence' glided over her tongue, clicking on the 'd', breathing out at the end. Below this was a notice for the maximum known residence - just over six months. 'Only???' was scrawled underneath.

~some hours later~

Kayla shuffled in as the roadie opened the door and waved. Skwisgaar drummed his fingers along the table, glancing over the one-page summary. She twisted her hip and smiled. His eyes flicked back and forth across her, looking for something interesting to focus on. She tilted her head and he tapped a stack of guidebooks. The week-trial guidebooks.

"Dat's a hideous perfumes. It's specificially saying on this no perfumes."

Her eyes went wide. "But it's not!" Nails scritched as she lifted her leather miniskirt. "It's..."

He turned his head sideways and groaned. "You see, dat's is work, for me. Aaah, no." Skwisgaar waved his hand and turned to the next sheet of paper.

"Hey, 212," he shouted as she was assisted to the door by the other roadie, "Yous tell them out there dat anyone wearing anything like hers is out of the line now, ja?"

"The, uh, undergarment or the hat, my Lord?"

"Both." He stood up and stretched. "I's back in a half hour."
1st-Feb-2007 03:23 pm - Metalocalypse: Divination
nathan is a god
Imrihamun - 1 Feb 42/2007

Summary: So, what does a Sumerian prophecy have to do with Dethklok? While not guessing at the prophecy, Ofdensen knows more than he's letting on. He's not Dethklok, though. He uses Nathan to try to find out more.
Time: Before the events of 'Dethwater'. No spoilers except for his name, I think.
Rating: Violence, no sex. Probably not suitable for vegetarians.

Disclaimer: Fanfic is a homage. If the copyright holders for the animated series Metalocalypse or people representing them ask for the removal of this, I will comply.

Notes: I'd like to thank my undergraduate professor for 'Babylonia Before 1600'.
Gift for: kleenexwoman
Archive: hatredy Removed for being retarded, Y-Gallery, any personal archives I may create. No others. Linkers please send me a note so I can do a happy jig.

DivinationCollapse )
31st-Jan-2007 12:23 am - Status
Sumerian fic is ALMOST done. Seriously. I need another 1/2 hr or so; I might be able to do it at work tomorrow. (Wednesdays are hard to be on the internet, though - I'm in the front office, not the back.) I kind of started writing by jumping into it and now it needs a beginning. Feels slipshod right now.

For anyone in the Metalocalypse fandom, I'm going to be doing all my posting in hatredy from now on. SF is full of SO MUCH CRAP it makes me want to STAB. I may post something in SF saying that, too. I'm kind of pissy that I've e-mailed the mods about certain issues and they've said, 'oh, we'll get to that, do you have ideas?' and I say yes, here's a page of guidelines I've written up - and then the mod application thing, which seems to have gone nowhere - AARG.

Anyhow, yeah. Just sos you know.
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