Another Electronic Sheep

I say HAES, and you say "what's that?"

Fri, 18 Jul 2008 16:24:28 GMT

This post should be subtitled "How A Lot Of My Conversations Have Gone Recently".

I don't diet. Y'all know that. I reject utterly the concept that an 'athlete' is someone who's skinny. I dance and sing and eat ice cream and green beans (sometimes for the same meal). There is no such thing as good and bad food in my world, just tasty food. I go on twenty mile hikes and drive half a mile to the store and I only trust one person in the wide wonderful world to tell me if I'm healthy, and that's the person in the mirror.

The glorious thing about the Internet? You learn stuff has names. And apparently, my life fits in nicely with something called Health at Every Size, or HAES.

Here is a good summary of HAES, complete with a pretty triangle graphic that outlines the three components: mental health, intuitive eating, and movement. Mental health is appropriately the foundation of the triangle, because without a healthy mind, what the hell use is a healthy body?

Or, as deeleigh puts it:

Weight loss programs tend to cast adults into the role of children, and they use doublespeak. They call blindly following instructions and ignoring your body's needs "taking control of your life." I would call that "losing control of your life." They call organized shaming and self flagellation "support." I would call that "mental torture." They've even begun to steal size acceptance and HAES rhetoric. They treat intelligent, disciplined adults like stupid children and make them feel like failures when they can't succeed long term in restricting an autonomic system. This fucks people up, mentally and physically.

I am so straight for Neil Patrick Harris.

Wed, 16 Jul 2008 02:32:45 GMT

After watching Doctor Horrible's Sing-Along Blog (Act I) seven times, I must say my favorite part occurs at 11:58.

Best $3.99 I've spent on entertainment this year. Yes, I bought the 'season pass' on the iTunes. That's how I watched it seven times today.

Not at work! I have a two hour commute, people! Public transit!

Oh, for fuck's sake... literally

Tue, 01 Jul 2008 02:40:52 GMT

Dear slash writers of the world:

BOYS DO NOT GET ALL CHATTY LIKE BAD ROMANCE NOVELS WHEN THEY HAVE ERECTIONS.

At best, they get all chatty like bad porn.

Here's the best thing to do: write the scene the way you want. Then go and cut every sentence to less than five words.

This will keep me from cursing your name and also keep your characters from going OOC.

Thank you,
Mee

ABC Family show: The Middleman

Tue, 17 Jun 2008 00:56:16 GMT

Three minutes in, we've got a snarky art school graduate temping at some science lab, a big funky fugly monster, and a nattily attired superhero with fun gadgets.

They had me at funky fugly monster.

*writes Mrs. Mary Sue Middleman in her journal and draws little hearts around it.*

Ben: It seemed like a good idea at the time.
Wendy: So did the Carter Administration.

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

Because I just saw a commercial on teevee,

Sun, 08 Jun 2008 04:39:45 GMT

I need to make this public service announcement.

If someone comes up to you and offered you money, eternal youth, and a pony to go on a Japanese game show...

RUN! FOR THE LOVE OF YOUR PERSONAL DEITY REPRESENTATIVE, RUN LIKE RABID BADGERS ARE AFTER YOU!

(because if you go on a Japanese game show, rabid badgers is one of the milder options)

Panties for Burma

Mon, 02 Jun 2008 15:39:25 GMT

Best. Protest. Ever.

Ya see, in Burma, women are being kidnapped and basically enslaved by the military, to fetch, carry, and be raped whenever the men want.

But, here's the thing: the military rulers of Burma are superstitious about women's underpants. They honest to God believe touching women's knickers or even a woman's skirt will take away their mojo.

I am not making this shit up, yo.

So, Panties for Burma was born. The addresses of the embassies worldwide are here. Donate that old, worn, elastic-shot, hol(e)y pair to the cause.

Men's drawers also gladly accepted.

Take THAT, Everywhere Else!

Thu, 22 May 2008 01:59:06 GMT

As I reported last night, Sam Adams is going to be the next Mayor of Portland, Oregon.

Apparently, we are the largest US city to date to elect an openly gay mayor. And it didn't come up once during the campaign.

He's Sam. Everyone knows Sam. Everyone knows Sam's gay. NO ONE CARES.

Except, apparently, CNN.

Who can just bite me.

Portland is fucking awesome.

Oregon does not have an open primary. Which sucks for me.

Wed, 21 May 2008 03:25:46 GMT

At 8:15pm, with 43% of the Dem vote counted, they called Oregon for Obama.

Why does Wolf Blitzer sound so SURPRISED?!? And depressed?!

(For those who give a shit, they called for Sam for Mayor at 8:20pm. Everyone else can stare at the icon. Because politics is teh sex0rz.)

Happy International No Diet Day!

Tue, 06 May 2008 16:47:16 GMT

That's right. Today is the day to declare a personal, one-day moratorium on dieting. There are no good foods or bad foods. There is just food, which keeps your body running and happens to be v. v. tasty to boot.

(This is, of course, the philosophy I run with all the days of my live-long life.)

From Shapley Prose, the top 10 reasons not to diet:

10. DIETS DON’T WORK. Even if you lose weight, you will probably gain it all back, and you might gain back more than you lost.
9. DIETS ARE EXPENSIVE. If you didn’t buy special diet products, you could save enough to get new clothes, which would improve your outlook right now.
8. DIETS ARE BORING. People on diets talk and think about food and practically nothing else. There’s a lot more to life.
7. DIETS DON’T NECESSARILY IMPROVE YOUR HEALTH. Like the weight loss, health improvement is temporary. Dieting can actually cause health problems.
6. DIETS DON’T MAKE YOU BEAUTIFUL. Very few people will ever look like models. Glamour is a look, not a size. You don’t have to be thin to be attractive.
5. DIETS ARE NOT SEXY. If you want to be more attractive, take care of your body and your appearance. Feeling healthy makes you look your best.
4. DIETS CAN TURN INTO EATING DISORDERS. The obsession to be thin can lead to anorexia, bulimia, bingeing, and compulsive exercising.
3. DIETS CAN MAKE YOU AFRAID OF FOOD. Food nourishes and comforts us, and gives us pleasure. Dieting can make food seem like your enemy, and can deprive you of all the positive things about food.
2. DIETS CAN ROB YOU OF ENERGY. If you want to lead a full and active life, you need good nutrition, and enough food to meet your body’s needs.
And the number one reason to give up dieting:
1. Learning to love and accept yourself just as you are will give you self-confidence, better health, and a sense of wellbeing that will last a lifetime.

And now, also from Shapely Prose, DEPRESSING STATISTICS!

Seventy percent of normal weight girls in high school feel fat and are on a diet. Ferron, C. “Body Image in adolescence in cross-cultural research” Adolescence 32 (1997), pp. 735-745.
Over half of the females studied between ages eighteen and twenty-five would prefer to be run over by a truck than to be fat, and two-thirds would choose to be mean or stupid rather than fat. Gaesser, Glenn A., PhD. Big Fat Lies: The truth about your weight and your health. Gurze Books, 2001.
A survey of college students found that they would prefer to marry an embezzler, drug user, shoplifter, or blind person than someone who is fat.* Gaesser, Glenn A., PhD. Big Fat Lies: The truth about your weight and your health. Gurze Books, 2001.
Up to thirty-five percent of normal dieters will progress to pathological dieting and, of those, twenty to twenty-five percent will progress to partial or full-blown eating disorders. Shisslak, C.M., Crago, M., and Estes, L.S., “The spectrum of eating disturbances,” Intl Journal of Eating Disorders 18 (3) (1995) pp. 209-219.

Yom HaShoah

Sat, 03 May 2008 00:19:58 GMT

Jews: 5.1-6.5 million
Soviet POWs: 2–3 million
Ethnic Poles: 1.8-2 million
Roma: 220,000–500,000
Disabled: 200,000–250,000
Freemasons: 80,000–200,000
Gay men: 5,000–15,000
Jehovah's Witnesses: 2,500–5,000

May the great Name of God be exalted and sanctified, throughout the world, which he has created according to his will.
May his Kingship be established in your lifetime and in your days, and in the lifetime of the entire household of Israel, swiftly and in the near future; and say, Amen.

May his great name be blessed, forever and ever.
Blessed, praised, glorified, exalted, extolled, honored elevated and lauded be the Name of the holy one,
Blessed is he- above and beyond any blessings and hymns,
Praises and consolations which are uttered in the world; and say Amen.

May there be abundant peace from Heaven, and life, upon us and upon all Israel; and say, Amen.

[Ficlet, TW/DW10] This is totally Wolfram's fault.

Wed, 30 Apr 2008 03:25:24 GMT

Daddy-O gave me this plotbunny almost a week ago. Jackass.

So, this is like vaugely anti-canonical because canon is for pussies. And because I want Martha there but don't want to deal with Zombie!Owen. If you don't like that, go write your own bloody story. Not mine, no money, don't sue. Rating? Uh, SexImplied and Nekkid... weapons. Plus boykisses!

However, it was late one evening with the Hub ticking over smoothly. There was no world-ending case, but increased Rift activity translated into increased overtime. Everyone was at their stations, doing something worthwhile to keep Wales and the rest of the Earth safe. Which in Owen's case looked a lot like computer solitaire.

Ianto had closed the Tourist Info desk an hour earlier and was now ensuring the coffeemaker was clean and prepared to go into action when called upon (which, by his calculations, would be in approximately 27 minutes).

The alarms startled him into dropping the pitcher of cream. "Alien life form detected in the vaults! Bulkhead three breached!" Toshiko announced.

"Do we have picture?" Jack demanded.

Tosh banged on the keyboard a few times. "The monitors are out. Bulkhead two breached!"

"Tosh, begin Upper Lockdown Delta-Three. Owen! Cover Martha!" Jack barked, then "Martha! Don't argue!"

"No argument here, no, none at all..."

"Gwen! Ianto! With me!" He ran down the ramp and Ianto followed, belatedly realising his gun was in his hand already. He remembered to point it at the ground, at least, instead at anyone he cared about.

"Would now be a good time to mention I haven't had any weapons training?" Ianto heard Martha say as they dashed past the medical bay.

Gwen didn't even smile one bit; the perfect cop was staring at bulkhead one with the same expression she'd stared down Weevils.

The door swung open, and Ianto brought up his weapon. An idle part of his brain whispered that it was proud of him for not letting his hands shake.

A floppy-haired man in square glasses stood in the doorway and looked around as if he owned the place. His hands were shoved deep in the pockets of a hlafway decent pinstriped suit, and he was wearing black canvas sneakers. The stranger's eyes alighted on Jack and something in them shifted from ownership to wickedness.

The stranger took two steps towards Jack and Ianto's finger began tightening on the trigger. Jack put up his weapon, though, stepped into Ianto's line of fire, and began to say something.

The stranger didn't let him get out more than the first sound before he was kissing Jack.

"Doctor!" That was Martha. She seemed delighted to see him. So did Jack. That idle part of his brain was whispering again, something about 'standing down', but Ianto was still continuing the steady pull on the trigger, shifting slightly to get a better shot (well, one that would only wing Jack).

Jack and the Doctor came apart with a soft sound that felt like a fist to Ianto's gut. He broke free of whatever mental ice had held him immobile and he put up his weapon. There was that grin, though, Jack's grin when he was genuinely happy.

"About time," Jack said, and reached for the Doctor again.

"Oi! none of that. What kind of man do you take me for?"

"We know what kind of man you are," Martha said, Owen behind her with his gun still out (but at his side, finger along the barrel instead of on the trigger. "Where's mine?"

"Martha! Martha Jones!" The Doctor all but shouted, and Ianto turned away and went to the kitchen to start the kettle and clean up the mess.

He was on his hands and knees when he heard, "Fantastic view." His spine stiffened (as did another part of his anatomy, which he cursed mentally for its Pavlovian response). "Not that I couldn't watch it all day, which I could, but do you need some help?"

Ianto took a breath, then stood up, brushed off the knees of his suit, and turned around. "I am fine," he said, looking Jack in the eye. "Thank you," he added, half a beat too late.

Jack's eyebrow went up. And then he leered. "No, thank you."

Ianto turned around and began working the levers on the coffeemaker. Jack's hand came down gently on his shoulder. "Hey, it's not what you think."

"It's none of my business."

"He was just--- returning something. Something he borrowed without asking, I might add, and don't think we're going to have words about that once Martha's done telling him about everything that's happened in the last few months."

Ianto didn't turn around, because he was still trying to decide if he should grab Jack and remind him who had woken up in his bed this morning or punch him right in the mouth. Besides, this was a crucial part of the brewing process, if done improperly the toilets would back up for some ungodly reason.

One day he'd trace that plumbing problem and fix it

Jack's hand slid down Ianto's arm to the crook of his elbow, and he followed the hand's gentle .pressure to turn around. But he didn't look up at Jack.

Jack took half a step closer and rested his forehead on Ianto's. "hey," Jack whispered. "I'm not going anywhere."

The kettle screamed, and Ianto turned away to tend to it.

* * * * *

HI! IF YOU CAN READ THIS YOU'D BETTER COMMENT! EVEN JUST TO TELL ME YOU READ IT I AM AN ATTENTION PROSTITUTE AND FEEL LIKE A TOTAL FAILURE AS A WRITER! *waves*

Why do I like making Ianto ~~angst like an angsty thing on Angst Day in Angstonia~~ spill things in the kitchen?

Store Security

Sun, 27 Apr 2008 18:53:18 GMT

I really don't travel outside my neighborhood a lot. There's really not anything I need beyond there.

Except my Mom sent me a Target gift card and I wanted a new DS game (I wound up getting Lego Star Wars, which should be renamed Crackity McCrackersons).

Mall 205 on a Saturday made me happy, because of all the adorable families running around. And a goodly number of them were speaking Spanish. That also makes me happy because it feels like home.

After I paid for the game at electronics and had a nice geeky moment with the sales clerk who'd been to the Coulton concert (his gf won a snack cake because she had the d20 he'd given her as a good luck charm 3 years ago in her purse), I started wandering through the jewelery and purses section, just having a look-see if anything caught my eye. And there was this adorable family with three girls dressed exactly alike in flowered dresses, all three of the girls looked like my sister did at those various ages, right down to the drastically different hairstyles. So I went, "Awwwww!" and then continued my quest to find a waterproof purse big enough for Moco for under 30 bucks that didn't look like something a 12 year old would carry to prom.

As I walked through jewelery towards the purses, the woman at the jewelery counter ran for her phone and dialed quickly. I said to myself, "You're being paranoid," and I continued on my search.

Mind you, I was acting kind of suspicious. See, I had Moco in my hands and was putting him in and out of various purses. However, when the gentleman in chinos with three walkies hanging from his belt wandered over and started following me from aisle to aisle, that is when I got pissed.

I had to decide then and there how much of a scene I wanted to cause. Could the jewelery counter woman have made the call for some other reason? Did the security guy just happen by? And was this because they'd had 'problems' with brown people in the past? Of course I thought that last part, because, hell, I spent most-all my teenage and college years getting followed around stores by clerks and security because I was young and brown.

I decided I wasn't going to do shit unless they stopped me. At which point I was going to pull on my best news anchor accent and tear them a new one.

But first I wanted an Icee.

I walked through the cash lanes, shoulders tensed for the tap and the "May I have a word with you?" I had my hand in my pocket ready to whip out my receipt for my $35 game. I went through a mental catalouge of what was in my bag that they might stock here and I'd have to answer for. I locked eyes for half a second with a woman in a Manager nametag, and she all but ran to a stationary phone as I walked by.

I went into the little restaurant and knew I had an audience watching me on video. The poor dear manning the food station was sweating like crazy, but that was because she was standing between two ovens. I looked around for a tip jar, to give the kid a couple extra bucks for being pleasant despite the awful work conditions, but of course there wasn't one.

Deciding between orange Icee and cherry Icee took me a few minutes (it's a momentous decision, yo) and I hated having my back to God and the whole store. I'm always nervous with my back unprotected like that, anyways, because I hate people sneaking up on me.

I went with cherry and started sucking it down as I walked to the front door.

A woman who looked much like my Auntie Emma of blessed memory was entertaining a round-cheeked baby in a cart near the door. I smiled, and my eyes slid past the adorable scene to lock with the cold, blue eyes of the uniformed security guard. She was watching me with one hand on her shoulder radio and the other on the holster at her hip. It was probably mace or something like that; but the violence in her eyes was frightening.

I left the store, and looked straight ahead. I was listening, though, for footsteps behind me.

Jonathan Coulton is f'n awesome.

Sat, 26 Apr 2008 07:23:43 GMT

If you do not know him, you are missing a fabulous nerd folk singer. A lovely cross-section of Portland's geeks turned out at the Mission and we laughed, we arr!ed, we clamored for snack cakes, and we sang "All we want to do is eat your brains" at the top of our lungs.

You missed it. Sucker.

Now it's time to eat ice cream and watch fatbabies take on Doctor Who.

Everyone's seen the Guy-who-wants-to-touch-women's-boobies post, right?

Wed, 23 Apr 2008 02:32:09 GMT

If that horror has not hit your RSS reader yet, well, I'm not linking.

However, to add to the legions of women who are going, "Hahahaha! No.", I'll just say that the last time someone grabbed my bosoms uninvited, the cops agreed with me that he had the four broken fingers coming and didn't even write my name down.

The Management would like to point out that violence doesn't solve anything, but it is at times hi-larious.

Oh my God, I'm ranting about AU. Someone take away the sugar.

Fri, 18 Apr 2008 02:39:00 GMT

SERIOUSLY PEOPLE! I know most of you only have vauge memories of the TWENTY SEVEN SEASONS of DW before this recent restart, but the Time Lords were not all geeky and spastic.

Matter of fact, the Doctor is the freak amongst Time Lords (which, imo, is why he survived the Time War). He was constantly getting hauled before the Guardians (the guys in the funny headdresses and capes at the Vortex flashback) for dicking around where he shouldn't. The rest of the Time Lords were a much more sedate, serene, and diplomatic lot.

Like Teyla.

Not Rodney.

Therefore, if you're doing a crossover wherein there is a Sooper Sekrit Time Lord somewhere in Atlantis, you know who would be a good idea to make it be?

That's right, TEYLA!

Besides, most of your readers prolly won't see it coming and you'll likely get some interesting passive-aggressive hate mail comments.

Fun @ Work

Wed, 16 Apr 2008 15:06:50 GMT

Our kitchenette is a long, narrow hallway with a door at one end to our conference room, which is a repurposed greenhouse. We have excellent views of all the construction going on in the SoWhat, and there are several potted palms and really nice leather couches in there.

I was getting coffee and my coworker came in, flailing about something one department or another was doing. I was at the opposite end of the counter from the greenhouse door, and he opened it up and said, "Wow, it's hot in here. Poor plants."

Then he looks at me and says, "Every time I look out that window, I see a giraffe."

Of course, at that announcement I took a step away from him and checked where my exit routes were. He said, "No! Come and look!"

"I'm not sure I want to!"

"Come on!"

So I stepped over to the greenhouse door and looked. My bleary early-morning eyes sure enough did see a giraffe.

I blinked, and it was a ROBOTIC giraffe.

I blinked again, and it was a drilling rig of some sort painted yellow.

But that was boring so I blinked one more time and saw a robotic giraffe!

I watch too much TV

Thu, 10 Apr 2008 19:22:43 GMT

Because the first thing I thought when I saw the new shuttle car system at Heathrow was "Those are just aching to attempt to take over the world, and either the Doctor or Jack or UNIT is gonna have to blow it up."

Boom, baby!

Wed, 09 Apr 2008 03:40:15 GMT

Ronin's Sword, the Official Last First Draft, is at 1347 words.

...and COUNTING!

Bwahaha.

It's also on Google Docs, so if you ~~promise not to laugh~~ want to read it as it appears ~~and promise not to laugh~~ send me your email.

Sooper Sekrit Message to Honeybones (and other Seattle-area geeks)

Thu, 03 Apr 2008 15:13:09 GMT

Your offer for Emerald City?

ACCEPTED!

We must save many shiny rocks to trade for ~~bail money~~ paper with pretty pictures on it, because Wil just confirmed and while I have Dancing Barefoot, I somehow never picked up a copy of Just a Geek

Plus, I cans buy my own tickets. Sonic Screwdriver fund FTW! \o/

[Ficlet] Ration - Doctor Who Episode Tag

Wed, 02 Apr 2008 03:42:40 GMT

Title: Ration
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue. Episode Tag for "The Family of Blood". I really like Matron and I also like to explore the fact that the Doctor must, obviously, think a lot differently than normal humans, which lead to the inventive, bordering on the avant-garde narrative style. Since my beloved beta gets antsy when I use run-on sentences, this has not been subjected to her loving edit pen. All errors and annoyances are, therefore, my own.

--------------------------
The problem with the Universe (well, this one at least) was that it was so linear.

And that, really, was the curse of the Time Lords. Humans plodded away at their boring, four0dimensional lives with only the rare geniuses and madmen seeing past, beyond, to what-may-be-and-once-was. Time Lords, of course, had seen the Vortex (capital V, proper noun for a fundamentally improper thing) and knew that the line one being traced through the universe was from one angle horribly convoluted (contorted, convex, curlicues) and yet from the most important angle in front of one's own eyeballs, it was horribly, frighteningly, ploddingly, maddeningly straight.

And you could only go forward. No, never back. Not really back.

Once a year, once an Old Earth year, once every 365 solis, an alarm went off in the TARDIS. And when he got a chance (saved the people, watched them die, helpless always helpless to change their straight line paths) he set coordinates for a special mirror, in a museum there on Old Earth, to check his reflection in a mirror (make sure her path was just as straight and plodding as usual because sometimes, sometimes escape was possible when the convolutions cooexited with a Time Lord's path).

And then the TARDIS took him to a place where he could look (not touch never seen nary a whisper) in on herself. As she followed her straght line and he followed his apparently crooked but really truly straight (from the only perspective that matters). He could never change her from her path, not after all that had happened. Not after she had said 'no'. She had to decide herself (paste Bondo superglue epoxy) to pick up the pieces.

He hated to see her sad. So he rationed his glimpses.

Little hint....

Thu, 27 Mar 2008 22:15:09 GMT

I'm a fairly easygoing person, as you all well know.

So when I say, "You've hurt my feelings", what I really mean "I've taken into account all stress I know of in your life currently and our past history and the fact you're at a point in your life where you feel the need to nuke a lot of your relationships through passive-aggressive sniping, but you have stepped WAY THE FUCK OVER THE LINE and you need to fucking take into account the fact that I am telling you here and now, what you said was NOT COOL and you've hurt my feelings you fucking jackass, what are you going to do to make *ME* feel better about continuing the relationship you've done your goddamned best over the last few weeks to destroy?"

And yes, this is for a specific person who isn't taking the direct hints with the cluebat, so we're trying the indirect route.

Hah!

Wed, 26 Mar 2008 19:18:43 GMT

I decided a few months ago to quit giving SUP/Livejournal money. Because I don't like them very much.

They keep sending me frantic notices that my ACCOUNT! OPTIONS! ARE! EXPIRING! Oh noes!

The one today I actually bothered to open up. And saw this:

If you have any questions or requests, please contact us by replying to
this email. We want to keep you happy. :)

Best laugh all day.

\o/

Tue, 25 Mar 2008 17:49:14 GMT

From here:

NASA: Mars Rovers Won't Be Cut

LOS ANGELES (AP) — NASA says it has absolutely no plan to turn off either of the Mars Rovers because of budget cuts.

NASA is saying Tuesday that it has rescinded a letter that recommended budget cuts in the Mars Rover program to cover the cost of a next-generation rover on the Red Planet.

The move comes a day after scientists at the agency's robotics center said they would need to hibernate one of the twin Mars robots and limit the duties of the other because their budget was being cut by $4 million.

That announcement was based on a letter NASA sent to the Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Pasadena last week.

But NASA is saying in a statement Tuesday that neither of the rovers will be shut down.

Time to start planning the Kessel Run! Because, of course, the next step is interplanetary space ships. *nods*

By the by, I recently flipped from Bloglines to Google Reader, and GReader allows y'all to see blog posts I flag as interesting. If you're already using another feed reader (and technically, your flist is a feed reader), you can get my interesting posties feed here.

Things I find interesting enough to share:
ZOMBIES!
Personal Finance schtuff
Some religious schtuff
Stuff that makes me laugh because I am a big dork.

Open Letter to State Senator Gary George

Sat, 22 Mar 2008 19:56:31 GMT

From an interview with Just Out:

Just Out: What if an employee is fired because of his/her sexual orientation or gender identity? Isn't the Oregon Equality Act in place to guard against such discrimination?
George: As an employer, I don’t wanna hear about it. This workplace is for work purposes. My advice to the gay community is SHUT UP, just don’t talk about it.

Dear Sen. Gary George:

NO.

Love,
Mary Sue

[fanfic] Two-Way Mirror (HP/NCIS, PG, 297 words)

Thu, 13 Mar 2008 01:39:32 GMT

Yes, I wrote it. Or at least part of it. Shutupnow.

Tony and Ziva were passing popcorn between themselves. Ziva magnanimously offered some to Tim, but he declined.

“Oh!” Tony said as the door in the interrogation room opened. “Turn off your cell phones, the show's about to start.”

Gibbs was reading a file and ignoring the young man seated at the table. It was okay, though, because apparently the young man was busy ignoring Gibbs and staring at the two-way mirror with a puzzled look on his face.

“So, Harry---” Gibbs began, but he was interrupted.

“Are they really eating popcorn in there?”

Tony paused, halfway to tossing another kernel into his mouth.

“Okay,” McGee said. “That was creepy.”

“He must have really good hearing,” Ziva replied.

“Probably,” Gibbs said, closing the file folder and placing it on the table. “But that's not important. What is important, Harry, is how, exactly, you got into our morgue without going through security or showing up on any of our surveillance cameras.”

“Sorry,” Harry said, “But I am rather hungry. It's a long flight from England, even with the best racing broom Galleons can buy.”

Tony looked at his suddenly empty hands in confusion. Ziva and McGee were too busy staring open mouthed at the young man who had identified himself a few hours earlier to a startled Ducky as “Harry Potter”.

Harry Potter was busy rummaging around in the bottom of the bag of microwave popcorn. Their bag of microwave popcorn.

Gibbs had his weapon trained on Harry. “Put the bag down and your hands on your head.”

Harry shoved a giant handful in his mouth and chewed, then swallowed noisily. “Let's just pretend, for a little while, that magic exists and I really am a wizard, okay? It'll make the next few days go a lot smoother.”