The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors
05 January 2020 @ 10:49 am



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Prison Break Fanfiction
I write primarily non-shipper general fiction, and some Lincoln/Michael slash pieces as well. Yes, I know they’re brothers… and no, I normally wouldn’t be writing brothercest. That said, if it’s not your thing then please stick to the General Fiction section.

                  Prison Break Gen Fiction                      Prison Break Slash Fiction

Supernatural Fanfiction
Supernatural also deals with two brothers, who in this case are bound together in the pursuit of demons and vengeance. An excellent overview of this show and its characters can be found here.
                  Supernatural Gen Fiction                      Supernatural Slash Fiction

Other Fanfiction: Iron Man, Die Hard 4, Chuck, White Collar, Burn Notice, Reaper, and more

Original Fiction and Non-Fiction Stories: Miscellaneous Original Fiction // Real LJ Idol Season 8 // LJ Idol Exhibit A // LJ Idol Exhibit B // LJ Idol Season 9


 
 
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors
Title: Silver Linings
Fandom: Die Hard 4
Author: HalfshellVenus
Characters: John McClane, Matthew Farrell (Gen or pre-Slash)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: You can forget that not all surprises are bad.
Author's Notes: For the writerverse prompt of "Response."

x-x-x-x-x

John McClane had a very simple plan for life: Don't fuck up, and keep moving forward. The reality was harder to pin down, maybe something closer to Fuck up less, and Just keep moving. That was hard enough. He'd been a cop with a troubled marriage who became an overnight hero, then a disciplinary problem, then a hero again, then an attitudinal headcase-turned-hero. Now he was still years away from retirement (assuming he didn't get killed first) and still doing grunt work like picking up some kid in Jersey on the say-so of someone too far above his pay grade to even bother telling him Why.

He'd nearly been blown up within minutes of knocking on the kid's door, which was some kind of personal record, and shot at for the better part of a day. The clincher was when he actually shot himself.

It'd be great to say that nothing like that had ever happened before, but it wouldn't be true. The kid was new—thank God for the kid—and so was taking down a helicopter with a car. But the rest was the kind of craziness that made John focus on mottoes and shit in the hope of keeping his life under some kind of control.

As far as he could tell, it had never worked.

Finally, at the end of one of the worst days of his life, he found himself inviting the kid to come stay with him while they both recovered from their injuries. Blame the painkillers, maybe, because while John would start a gunfight at the drop of a hat, he wasn't the type to extend himself long-term for much of anyone. Hey, that "charity" shit would kill you.

Still, he'd done it anyway, and the kid had actually said yes. It had been a long time since John had been so goddamn happy to hear a Yes.

The two of them living in his apartment for weeks or months might be awkward and inconvenient, and yet John was totally looking forward to it.

Planning, he had finally decided, was overrated.


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The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors
Title: Charon, In Reverse
Fandom: Pushing Daisies
Author: HalfshellVenus
Character: The Coroner
Rating: PG
Summary: It had never been a dull job, and now it was weirder than ever.
Author's Notes: For the writerverse "Character Spotlight" to focus on a secondary character.

x-x-x-x-x

There was a possibility that Crazy Mofo was not an actual profession, just as there was a possibility (slim) that college tuition for the coroner's granddaughter might cost less than the GNP of several sub-Saharan African nations. The coroner was a man of science, however, and he preferred facts and simpler interpretations of reality.

The reality was this: Detective Mofo and his cohorts were straight-up nuts, but they were good at solving crimes and they also knew the value of cold, hard, tax-free cash.

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The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors
16 June 2015 @ 12:43 pm
I was out bicycling early enough on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday to keep from overheating (highs of 96-102 all three days), and Sunday I actually ran all 5 of my target miles—for the first time in a month. It'll be heating up again midweek here, but despite last week's awfulness, it has been a fairly mild spring compared to the usual.

The side-effects of losing the Whale-cat have become really evident over the last year. There are multiple squirrel families here now (one over my home office, where I hope the skittery sounds I hear on the roof are... anything but rats, really), and a lot more birds in the backyard. The Whale would be outside much of the day and all night, and his presence clearly was noted. But now? Our current kitty doesn't seem to want to go out much during the day, and is only threatening to string, rubber bands, and biteable pieces of paper.

So, last week we had a sudden influx of Northern California magpies in the backyard. These are plump, large-ish birds with pretty coloring, and they soon clustered at the top of the decorative fountain and started yakking:

Bird 1: What do you suppose this is?
Bird 2: Looks like a very small set of streams. Strange.
Bird 1: That's what I was thinking. My feet are certainly wet.
Bird 3: But what's the rest of it? These aren't rocks or pebbles. I don't know what they are...

At this point, the cat raised her head and spotted all of this going on outside. So, like any pet owner, I tried to make the situation worse:

"Look at that! It's happening right in your own yard, and what are you doing about it? Huh? They're out there stomping around like they own the place, and they're touching your stuff!"

The cat just looked aghast, which totally made that worth my while. ;)

In other news, I've finished Egg And Spoon, and have started The Lost Boys Symphony. TV-wise, we're re-watching Fringe (and I'd hoped to get my son interested, because WALTER! But he hasn't taken the bait). We're also giving Breaking Bad a chance, and wow—that pilot episode was genius. I'd ordered it via Netflix years ago, but HalfshellHusband auto-vetoed it on arrival as he was going through cancer treatments himself and just was not in the mood for that plus the show being centered around drugs.

Moviewise, we tried out Welcome To The Punch via Netflix streaming, mainly for the cast (James McAvoy, Mark Strong). Good, mindless entertainment. The visuals in the first 10 minutes are striking—great use of light and color, very clean-looking. That was one of the things I liked about the middle of John Wick, too—beautiful filmwork in an unexpected setting.

All right, back to work. Hope you've all been doing well, and have either vacationed or are looking forward to one over the summer!

 
 
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors
07 June 2015 @ 11:51 pm
Hot, hot weekend. Yesterday was in the low 90s (I ended the morning's 5-mile run right at 3.9 miles, because it was suddenly clear I was done). Today was 96o, and felt hotter because it was a little muggy. My bike ride went from aiming for about 24 miles to maybe 22 miles and then, "Nope—I have to quit right now, 1/3 mile before even the shortest distance." Ugh. Both days, it took me about an hour to recuperate from overheating, and by then it was 1:30-2pm.

In addition to the heat, today's ride featured a great blue heron, and a guy drafting off of me for over 6 miles without even asking (typical). Last weekend, I picked up a hitchiker along the parkway, but it wasn't the usual cute ladybug or even a beetle. Instead, I looked down and saw yellow and black antenna and part of a body underneath my cyclometer, next to the 'Pause' button. This happened near my turnaround point, so I kept checking on the bug's location and thinking, "Don't press the pause button. Don't press the pause button" just so I wouldn't forget and get stung. The creature—a wasp—crawled on top of the cyclometer, got blown off onto the center bar and then closer to me. It was near my legs by then, and I've been stung there before, so I pulled over to let it escape. Whew!

Speaking of "Whew," I finally finished The Shining. It... did not thrill me. The foreshadowing seemed really heavy-handed, I hated how the female character was written, the five-year-old-boy often seemed more like 9 or 10, and there are times King really seems wedded to the Magical Negro stereotype (though that was my favorite character). I much preferred the sequel, Doctor Sleep, which had an unsettling spookiness about it that is more typical of King's son's writing.

With that out of the way, I started Egg and Spoon. This book has the feeling of several overlapping wisps of Russian folk tales, with wry interjections by the narrator. The style reminds me a bit of reckless_blues, and the rendering of Baba Yaga here is everything you could hope for and more. I'm almost halfway through already.

Movie-wise, we watched Three Days To Kill last weekend (more of a comedy than a thriller, and we loved the comedy parts), and we're now watching Paul. I was sure this last movie was PG-13, because it feels like that should be the audience. But no, it's rated R, thanks to a ton of misplaced cuss words—because heaven forbid a movie should get a PG-13 rating! Clearly, that would mean it was no good! Argh.

Now, courtesy of our son, have some links to a bizarrely funny set of toilet paper commercials: Sir Froggy, Daddy Gator, Birds, Conductor Randy, Great Grandpa Thaddeus, and Little Miss Puffytail. Good times. :)

 
 
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors
28 May 2015 @ 01:15 pm
The raccoon that keeps invading our back yard and trying to make off with the cat-food container has finally succeeded in getting the thing open.

This is the container we bought 15 years ago to foil ANOTHER raccoon, who gave up after ripping out the rubber ring under the hatch-locked lid.

Pesky little animals, with their persistent and clever little hands!

This means war. And padlocks. *Grrrrrr*



 
 
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors
27 May 2015 @ 11:21 pm
I had a bizarre semi-work-related dream this weekend, which started off with coding, bug-fixing and sailboating (!), and ended with my taking retirement and requesting the coporate bonus of 150 sheep (talk about random). But hey, free sheep! At worst, I figured I could sell them for their "meat." (!)

I traveled back to Oregon, SO happy to be returning home, but the second day I was there, the sheep arrived—while I was still staying at a hotel, with no immediate plans to buy a house or anything. The sheep were all roaming around outside, and I was worried they'd wander off or get hit by cars. I realized I'd have to buy grazing property ASAP—most likely near Salem, an area I don't especially like—and how on earth had I ever thought I could be a sheep farmer?

That was about when I woke up. It sure beats the dreams of walking to work and back (30 miles each way). :O

When not dreaming insane dreams, I ran, bicycled, collected stuff to donate to Goodwill, read Battle Creek fanfiction and wanted more of it, saw Kingsman: The Secret Service, watched John Wick (10 minutes of plot and two hours of revenge action, though it has both Dean Winters and Willem Dafoe, so that's something), tried to go hiking and failed (access closed due to insufficient parking), and then BLAM—the weekend was over. :(

What a blur. How did yours go?

 
 
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors
21 May 2015 @ 10:45 pm
This morning featured new noises, halfway between a "shriek" and a "gronk," that sounded as if someone was torturing a whale. The sound was so piercing, it went right through the earplugs. There was a white, county utility truck parked out on the street... Please let this not be some kind of new garbage truck. The current ones are loud enough!

I went out for Chinese food with people from the office yesterday, and had very good szechuan pork. Spent the rest of the afternoon in the usual fashion, which is to say jonesing for chocolate with mint. I don't know why Chinese food does that to me, but it's consistent. Every.single.time. :O

So, after that comment the other day about Battle Creek slash, I went looking for some. Let me just say that of the various things at AO3, I did not expect so many stories to be in Russian and Chinese, nor the explosion of things like wing-fic, vampire AUs, etc. I suppose I should have, because fanfic, but really? Damn.

I did find a really marvelous story worth sharing. This isn't the way I would have thought of Milt, but the author totally persuaded me, and Russ? Is so very Russ. Crabby, aggravating, and yet you can't help liking him. The style is decidedly unfluffy slash (again, Russ), very masculine and realistic. Really good storytelling, and a very satisfying read:

Upon My Liar's Chair (R) by Lessandra.

Another conversation the other day made me think of something else I should rec, for Justified fans. This story came out during the nvrleaveharlan "Hillbilly Remix" challenge. The author really captures Dickie Bennett here, from his seemingly half-crazy non-sequitur-based conversations to his underlying wiliness, and it's funny and perfect:

Tiger, Tiger by lymricks.

A three-day weekend is coming up here in the States, but I didn't get around to making plans for HalfshellHusband and me to go out of town. My follow-through is just awful these days. :( What will all of you be up to?

 
 
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors
The day started off questionably: a seemingly nightlong dream about repeatedly being kept awake and not getting enough sleep (which makes you feel as if that's what has actually happened), and then waking up for real to discover I'd set the alarm an hour late. Ah, Monday. :\

The weekend was less rushed than the previous. We watched The Penguins of Madagascar, which for the most part was glorious insanity. I mistook Benedict Cumberbatch's voice for Kelsey Grammar trying to be British (not for the first time), though Cumberbatch has a more consistently deep velvet tone than Grammar. That really was not the point of the movie, though. Penguins, halfbaked schemes, and serendipitous outcomes are the movie's selling points.

We saw the season finale of Grimm, which had no surprises. I can't get worked up over it, though if the show tries to redeem Adalind any farther, I will be peeved. Move away! The finale of The Blacklist satisfied some little corner of my barely-acknowledged shipper heart (you heard nothing here, nothing), and broke open all kinds of possibilities for next season.

Battle Creek is not over, thank goodness, though I'm suddenly wondering if there's slash for this series yet. I'm betting yes: Milt saves Russ from his own cynicism through the power of handsomeness and squeaky-clean sincerity. I'm totally serious. :)

In real-world news, I just now ordered graduation announcements for our daughter (choosing the ones I can pick up tomorrow, because I'm that far behind). My wedding anniversary is in two days and I'm wholly unprepared for that and the coming 3-day weekend, and no summer plans have been made. Please, let the water-treading slow down at work so I can get some sort of handle on life again. :O

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The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors
Title: Professionalism on Hiatus
Author: HalfshellVenus
Characters: Sam, Dean (Gen)
Rating: PG
Summary: Not every stakeout is a winner.
Author's Notes: For mdlaw, who requested Supernatural and "cold."

x-x-x-x-x

"I'm freezing," Sam said.

Dean just watched the clearing. "So get the blanket."

"Can't. I burned it, remember? That demon in Astoria slimed it." Sam shivered. "I hate November."

Dean sighed. "There's a space blanket in the car, try that."

Sam went and got it. "This thing's thinner than Kleenex." He wrapped the blanket tightly around them both. "Hey. That's better."

"Yeah. Though I feel like a Shake-and-Bake drumstick…"

"Great. I'm never eating that again."

Five minutes passed. "I'm hungry," Sam said. "Think this thing's coming?"

"Nah."

"Let's get burgers, then."

"Actually," Dean said, "Right now I'm totally craving KFC!"


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