This has been eating my life all day, you guys (I came to the coffeeshop to write my stuff and instead am writing other people's—whatever, I'm an adult!!) Thus far I've written:

• SING, LITTLE BIRD | ASOIAF, Littlefinger/Sansa (Old Hollywood)
• WE'LL BURN THIS WHOLE CITY DOWN | mythology, Paris/Helen (Prohibition)
• THE WEIGHT OF PARADISE | BSG, Gaius/Caprica (pioneers)
• YOUR HEART IS A VAST STONE DESERT | BSG, Gaius/Six (Western)

Americana riffs have been eating me up lately; it's nice to have somewhere to put them. SUCH FUN! Come play!

I am no longer a student of political theory. I do not think it is physically possible to be happier than I am that I am no longer a student of political theory. I went to get pudding with yon_lougawou after my final and kept grinning manically about it. I am no longer a student of political theory! Hobbes can eat me, basically.

Meanwhile I have been mostly just reading in the park now that it's nice and trawling Madison Square Eats (BLESS U NYC). Am reading Jacqueline Carey's third trilogy and o m g it is 5 much. She's never one for understatement, is Carey; her heroine this time isn't the BDSM messiah but she is touched by the ~goddess of desire, making her, functionally, a horniness magician. Trashy fantasy manna to me, but the babe-in-the-woods schtick this protagonist has going on is way less fun than courtesan spies. Needs more courtesan spies!

In terms of important books, though:

"Why did she love a skinny, lying mortal man, this woman with a heart like the sun? That is what men like him are made for: to pick the locks inside of a woman far bigger than he."

yo I am not at all over the Dirge for Prester John books, like. Not even a little bit. I read The Folded World in S'mac* and basically clawed my face off without even noticing. WAR STORY, HUGE STAKES, CAN'T TALK TO PEOPLE ABOUT THE REVEAL AT THE END, NEEEEED TO TALK TO PEOPLE ABOUT THE REVEAL AT THE END. Having a literary panic attack all by myself, basically! The world needs to read them and talk to me about everything but especially about John of Mandeville; sobbing about John of Mandeville as a narrator, mendicant rogue of my heart. (Rubbish rake writing the stories of the world he wishes he inhabited: talk about characters written for me.)

*Finals week problems: I ended up in S'mac twice last week. Do not regret this. There was a lot of macaroni and cheese to be consumed. There was a lot of stress to eat away.

Also someone needs to put that quote on a Six/Gaius tumblr graphic. (Speaking of things I am not over, will never be over.) I just.

And speaking of tumblr, there's a love meme bandwagon going round and as I am ever one to hop on that shit:

Do as I say and as I do, etc. I'll be hopping around people's there, strewing emotional confetti and all that jazz. How are you lot?

Sometimes I remember that Measure for Measure is a play and end up weeping copiously about the fact that it exists; currently the fact that Tricia Helfer and James Callis are not doing it in a theater somewhere gives me physical pain. There's a lot of physical pain related to faces enacted by those assholes: I maybe walked into a glass wall today and I am blaming the robot feelings fugue I was in. (Like, straight up, no blinking, stupid-pigeon-in-a-Windex-commercial walked right into it and now I have a bruise on my knee so I can't even forget it happened; I keep hitting it with my chin as I type.)

Other things: Game of Thrones continues to be perfect (Tyrell ot3, oh my days), my life is melting away in increments of vanilla vodka and raspberry gingerale, I need to write my first law paper this week (what the hell, yes, first, this late in the game), and I got into Columbia for the summer to study Russian four hours a day five days a week for a month. I know. Unspeakably fun. But I'm going to seduce some hapless Columbia-ite and languish in sundresses and write (Tenent Scintilla immersion mode, plus fairytales which I've already started roughing out in a notebook), and maybe I'll come out the other side (gasp!) learning Russian properly; it ought to be good, all things go. Oh, and I read Margaret Atwood's The Year of the Flood, which was glorious and I want everyone to do the same. Ask me about my feelings; they involve ladies weathering the apocalypse and CULTS.

Not even trying to make this a coherent entry. Instead:

THE MAKEOUT MEME

Pick a pairing from any fandom, and come up with a location and/or situation, and I will write you between 50 and 250 words about the kiss that happened in that context.

This noise! Allllways.

you can write but you can’t edit
Seminar. (Remember that play I got really angry about? Yeah, that play.) R. 7K+
Kate wins: the fic. Or maybe just, Kate gets to be angry and use it: the fic. (Plus Kate/Martin—damn Lily and Hamish's forever chemistry.) Set at the end of the show and onward. Canon compliant, too.


( Here's the secret: all you have to do is just that. Write it. )

Tonight I saw Seminar, the play with Alan Rickman as a writing teacher, one-act comedy, fairly tightly paced. And then I stomped home in a fugue of building irritation about what it means to be a writer, which is a topic that writers are obsessed with, and consistently, maddeningly, seem to get wrong.
( In which I am angry about this play as well as the literary world at large. )

don't bite; i'm baiting you 
Borja Theatrical Studios AU, Lucrezia/Cesare, NC-17. I wasn't intending porn, but it happened. Bless. Happy Valentine's Day to Emma, my valentine, plus candy hearts for disco_vendetta who wanted more of them anyway, and much love to all. No better way to express.


( "Perfect pageant. Right out of Old Hollywood. Be careful, or Dad'll send in a paparazzo." )

So, in the spirit of -entines both Gal and Val, and because I'm feeling ridiculously productive, wordwise, un meme! Super basic and open-ended:

Leave me some shippy fic prompts, and I will write you something!

Be ridiculous, be-be ridiculous. I know I'm sometimes awful at delivering with these, but if you ask for robot/cockroach otp* and/or shameless AU anything, there is a 95% chance you will Get Writ. Also fairytales. (On which cryptic note, I've a new project that I'm actually being productive with—shan't jinx until I hit, like, 10k. But it feels goooood.) So hit me up, kids!

* & if you missed it: She Laughs Like God, shameless AU and robot/cockroach otptime. 7k+ of Gaius/Six doin' noir, aka a compounded glimpse of my entire ficbrain right now.

She Laughs Like God
Battlestar Galactica, noir!AU. R. Featuring Gaius Baltar and the femme fatale in his brain; possibly the most self-indulgent 7000+ words I will ever write. (...Best not to tempt fate. But really, now.)


( "Darling, I’d kill for you.” He think he heard that on a radio play somewhere, right before the gunshots started going off. )