demon_rum

Here is a short, fluffy, entirely-cheerful thing I wrote for Passover. Chag Sameach Pesach, to anyone who celebrates.

Fandom: Eagle
Pairing: Esca/Marcus
Title: Next Year in Jerusalem
Word Count: ~2K
Rating: PG
Warnings: modern AU, swearing, drinking, politically incorrect language, a less-than-totally-devout seder
Summary: April, 2014. Marcus has been exploring his Jewish heritage and decides to host his first seder.
Notes: this is a short sequel to my BB fic, Everything is a Stall. (It's also a lot happier, which is nice.) It could be read as a stand-alone, but it will make more sense if you've read Stall first. It will also make more sense if you have a vague familiarity with a seder, but that's not necessary.



Marcus stared at the table. Plates that matched, coordinating napkins, candles, wine glasses … check. But as for the rest of what he needed: egg? Check. Horseradish? Check. Lambshank and parsley? Check check. Shannon and Kevin were bringing the charoset, Steven and Jason were bringing wine, and Emily and Dov were bringing (hopefully) some sort of knowledge of what to do.

Title: Chosen
Pairing: Marcus Flavius Aquila/Original Female Character
Rating: Gen
Warnings: none
Summary: Marcus catches the eye of a wolf. A prequel to Pack Dynamics.

On the seventh day of training after receiving their centurion's crests, those who had been chosen already spent the morning in combat drills, learning how to modify their basic maneuvers and formations so as not to accidentally trip over or stab 14 stone of snarling wolf. Those who had not yet been chosen did group drills and endurance training, and worried in private whether they would ever have a mate. Full centurions were not required to be soul-bonded, of course, but the unmated were limited to training grunts, pushing paperwork, or overseeing the army slaves.

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This is something I wrote for motetus' birthday, and it is probably the most embarrassing thing I have ever done, ever. A lot. I nearly didn't post it, because ... well, you'll see. But she talked me into it and I an very biddable, especially when porn is involved.

I hereby disavow all knowledge of what I have just written and posted.

*blush* oh god, do not read it.

by the by, it is all based on this early Victorian tea set. Early Victorian art is fabulous, because it's before they started putting lace over everything.

In which Cpt. Aquliaine takes his tea, eventually, and he and the Rev. St. John Rivers discover the various perils of switching rôles.

~*~

( tea porn after the jumpCollapse )

The Captain and I are fleeing to the dark, scary woods of the Pacific Northwest for a week. We shall drink beer by a roaring wood fire, fend off bears*, luxuriate in the stunning view from the outhouse, and have absolutely, positively no internet for an entire week, except for each evening when we go to the local brewpub 4 miles down the road. There are limits to Roughing It.

During this time, I intend to help renovate the cabin, knit ridiculous presents, and write porn for motetus my big bang fic. We shall see.

Everyone behave. Also, I shall actually be back in town Monday morning, long enough to pick up a prescription and mail out books.



*there are not actually bears in these woods, just racoons. But racoons are assholes, so there's that.

update: we are at the local pub! It's called the Valley Tavern, and it's as awesome as you can imagine: pull-tabs everywhere, a pool table and a wii, and a very drunk/loud guy at the bar talking about how the government makes businesses hire Orientals. YAY. This is the bar that on Thursdays hosts something called "Bacon Bingo." I don't know how it works, but the Captain once won 4 pounds of bacon at it. There are guns and stuffed elk heads and Budweiser ads everywhere, and I temporarily have internet, so the world is good?

I actually cried in the middle of my pediatrics final (not my best moment), because I had studied, damn it, and all the questions were on things that I never would have ever, ever studied in a thousand years. At the start of the test I began a tally of how many questions I didn't actually solidly know the answer to, and when I got to question #65 (out of a total of 100 questions), and realized that I had *45* tally marks, I may have melted down, just a little. I thought I was going to fail, and that would mean repeating the quarter, losing all my nursing school friends, no nursing job in fall, no trip to Europe, etc.

This is why I hate school.

After this terrible peds test was over, the teacher ran our scantrons through the machine (nursing school tests are all multiple choice, which may be the most positive thing I can say about the entire experience) while we took a second, stupider exam. I finished first, of course (I always finish first--it's the class joke), and I asked the teacher for my peds grade. She said she would email them out tomorrow night. Not a good answer. I asked again, more politely. She said no, so I pointed out that my scantron was in an envelope on the desk in front of us, and if she did not give me my grade I might throw up. :D And so she looked it up for me. Result: passed the test. Not by much, but I passed, and thus passed the quarter. Europe is still a go (at present), as is the rest of my life. YAY.

UPDATE: my classmates and I are celebrating at a crappy brewpub. I may be am drunk. YAY MORE.

Happy Friday, everyone! Yes, I mean it this time. Passion & Profession is done, really done, and I'm looking at the proof copy in my hands as I type. Here, see the pretty cover? See the beautiful kites against the blue Calcutta sky? Well, you can't, not really. The picture is garbage, because I don't have a digital camera that works at the moment. Taken with phone = blurrrrr.

16 chapters in all, one entirely new (mostly because chantefable said "BB, you ended it too fast! Where's the make-up sex?" Those might not have been her exact words, but She Was Right. I have remedied that.). Prologue and epilogue, historical notes, two short stories in the appendix, a map because who doesn't love maps, and an all-around sounder, more detailed story.

So it's ready, it's done, and more copies will be printed tomorrow. This is, of course, a not-for-profit vanity project in the finest sense of the word, and so copies are free if you want one, until I run out. Naturally, if you feel the urge to throw in money for shipping or beer or whatnot, that's *totally* different. PM me for details, etc, and we can talk. (The hard copies also come with a wicked-cool dust jacket, because motetus wouldn't stop drawing pictures for the story.)

I will also be getting the final pdf, for those who want to read it on Kindle. (I'm assuming you will be able to read it on a Kindle. I wouldn't know. See: broken camera, for state of household technology.) I can't figure out a clever way to get it to you, other than email, so you'll have to PM for that too. Naturally, you are welcome to share it as you see fit.

If you absolutely, positively cannot wait, and you'd like to read it online and avoid the whole PM'ing thing, there's an LJ website for it. Try not to laugh at the user name. I wanted to simply call it Passion&Profession, but it turns out there's a character limit AND no use of ampersands allowed. (Apparently it is 1997 again?)

Passion & Profession online, with all the trimmings

Now I am a (self-) published author. Yay!

Well, sort of yay.

( writing emo here... tl;drCollapse )

I was being *terribly and cruelly* harassed earlier in the week by Nobody In Particular, about a certain work of fiction that's been sitting at 98% done for, um, a while now. And so this little fiction is for Nobody In Particular, who should NOT talk about putting off major projects. (Naturally, I am also hoping for art.) Yes, this is what I did with my vacation weekend: I sat on a couch and wrote caveman ... well, you'll see.

Also, 98% becomes 100% TOMORROW. No, really, TOMORROW.



Mrc and Esc: Spear, Sling, Club

Esc stands in the breeze and sniffs the wind. It smells fresh and clean.
 
The air is warm, and the days start to grow long once more. It is spring! Esc is glad. He likes it when the days are short and cold, and he can spend his time in the cave with Mrc. The cave is dark and snug. They sleep and eat and rut, then rut and sleep and rut and eat and sleep some more. It is nice, very nice. But spring means more good food, fresh meat and green plants, bright days and warm, dry nights. Now they can lie on the grass and look up at the stars and give them names, and they will not be snowed on. Now they can go and swim in the clear, cold stream, and Esc can try to catch a fish with his hands while Mrc flops on his back to see how big a splash he can make.
 
Best of all, now they can hunt! Esc goes back to the cave. Mrc squats by the hot coals and chews on a piece of dried cow. Cat purrs at his feet and gnaws on her own piece of cow. Purr purr.
 
“Mrc, it is Spring! Where are the spears you made?”
 
But Mrc turns his back on Esc and pets Cat. “I did not … not here. They will be here. Soon.”
 
( just where are those spears?Collapse )

I've never understood soap operas. I hated shows like Melrose Place. The last time I watched a TV show with dedication bordering on fervor was mumble X-Files mumble. And then there's Downton Abbey.

By the time we finally get it pirated from The Internet a full day after it shows in England (thanks, Internet! ITV can suck it for delaying the US release until some time in 2012, plus I'm still mad at them for editing the first season for an American audience. A) we're not *that* stupid, thanks, and B) no one in Britain knows about entailment, either), I'm basically wandering around the house banging into furniture like a madwoman until the Captain makes the computer do whatever thing it does so that the show plays. I am such a technophobe.

Thoughts from tonight's show (last night's show, if you get to watch it like a normal person in Britain): Every time I really work up sympathy for Lady Mary, she goes and takes a shit on someone I like even more, like Mr. Carter. Sir Richard is such a dick; he and Lady Mary will be perfect for each other. Sybil: noooooo don't go back it's a trap! Matthew: RUN WHILE YOU CAN, LAD.

That is all. I will go back to holding my breath until next Tuesday.

ps: watched Lost in Austen the other day. What a head trip. Besides all the fun of watching the plot of Pride & Prejudice turn to chaos, and the horror of Mr. Collins' brothers, my brain was torn. I couldn't decide which urge was stronger: the urge to shout "but River, you can't marry the Earl of Grantham, you're already marri--Spoilers!", or the urge to leap through the screen and forcibly trim Jemima Rooper's bangs at knife-point.

(update: I have just noticed, not that my brain is more functional, that this post is approx 11,000 words long. I am hiding most of it beneath the jump, because otherwise I have just spammed everyone with bitching about my sinuses. Sorry, everyone...)

I had a wonderful post all planned out, really I did. It was going to be about Divali and how I wish I had a chance to celebrate it, and how every time I stare in the mirror at my slowly changing body, as it ages and as an entire year of nursing school slowly but surely kicks the crap out of it, I wish I could get away with wearing saris instead.

( details, if you really want themCollapse )