Winner in the Procrastination Olympics

Random food link

2009-08-09T14:58:22Z

This website - lovefoodhatewaste - looks interesting. There's a lot here that's common sense, but there are some interesting ideas about storage and using up the 'veg on the edge' too. I want to try out the tip about adding that last, lonely, brown-ish banana to a vegetable curry!

dS snippet: Spoiler

2009-07-12T19:52:48Z

dS, F/K, ~340 words, PG, not mine
Dedicated to vsee
Summary: Ray has just finished watching Torchwood...
Warning: Contains spoilers for Torchwood: Children Of Earth

Warning: Contains spoilers for Torchwood: Children Of Earth

Spoiler

Ray wandered into the bedroom where Fraser was reading his book, sitting on top of the covers and leaning back against the headboard comfortably. Ray flopped down on his belly beside him, burying his face in his folded arms.

“Did you enjoy your TV show?” Fraser asked, his attention still mainly focussed on his reading.

“No,” came the muffled reply. “It was bleak and nothing good happened and it was actually kind of disturbing.”

“That’s a shame.” Fraser gave Ray a quick glance before returning to his book.

“Plus...” Ray rolled onto his back and let out a sigh. “It looks like they killed off the gay guy.”

“Ah.” Fraser leaned over and picked up his bookmark from the nightstand. Once he’d marked his place he shuffled onto his side and waited for Ray to continue.

“I mean,” Ray said, “I know life isn’t one great happy...”

Fraser’s lips twitched.

“...If you say fairy tale I will not be responsible for my actio.....” The kiss silenced Ray, but only temporarily.

“It’s just they killed off someone who likes what I like. They killed off my show. It sucks. You know what I mean?”

“I’m afraid, Ray, that until recently, my opportunities for watching television have been few and far between.”

Ray groaned theatrically. “Okay then. What about when someone checked one of your favourite books out of the travelling library?”

“Well, most of the time I would read other books and make an effort to find new favourites,” Fraser replied.

“But...?”

Fraser looked away briefly, chewing his lip. Ray needed no further invitation and pushed for an answer.

“But the rest of the time...?”

“Okay, the rest of the time I worried myself silly that they would be returned with writing in the margins and the corners of the pages folded over.”

Ray gave a mock wince, but Fraser was now in full story-telling mode. “In fact, did I ever tell you about the time when someone returned Paradise Lost complete with the piece of pemmican they’d used as a bookmark...?”

Birthday ficlet for Aka

2009-05-28T14:27:40Z

♥ Happy Birthday, dearest Aka!♥

Your generosity with your time and talents make dS / C6D a fantastic place to be, but your kindness and thoughtfulness makes the rest of the world better too! I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels my life is better for knowing you. I hope your day and your year ahead is as shiny and wonderful as you are! *many birthday hugs*

Here is a birthday fic for you, based on the Microfic AU – “...And coming up later on Arts Review, we talk to the Philharmonia’s principal violinist, Benton Fraser, about the appointment of their charismatic and controversial new conductor, S. Raymond Kowalski...”

Overture
F/K pre-slash
~2000 words
AU
Author’s Notes: due South is not mine. Any organisations mentioned in this story are entirely made up as far as I can ~~google~~ tell. Many thanks to vsee for beta.

Overture

The rehearsal room was buzzing with gossip. Even in this there was music, Benton reflected, as the rhythm of ‘Do you know...?’, ‘Is it true...?’ and ‘Well I heard... ‘ punctuated the excited chatter. Usually he was one of the first to arrive. Today, however, most of the orchestra were already present, assembled in small groups and eager to hear the latest news.

“Benton! Over here!”

The two trombonists, Jack Huey and the generally cheerful – though slightly obnoxious – Tom Dewey, were waving at him. Francesca Vecchio was also with them. As Benton joined the group he tried to position himself between the two men, rather than by the over-eager young clarinettist.

“Have you heard?” asked Jack. “Have you heard what her brother’s done to us? Abandoned us with only 10 days left until the Philharmonia’s centenary concert!”

Shocked, Benton turned towards Francesca. Her exasperated tone suggested that she’d had to give the same explanation several times already that morning. “I’m his sister, not his keeper,” she said to Jack. “Nevada State Orchestra made him an offer he couldn’t refuse, apparently.”

Benton was bitterly disappointed at this news. As the leader of the orchestra, it had been important to develop a good professional relationship with the conductor, but his association with Ray Vecchio had become deeper than that. Ray’s friendship had been as important to Benton during this period of – admittedly self-imposed – exile as any professional guidance he had been able to offer. He forced himself to concentrate as Francesca attempted to pull them all towards her in some sort of huddle.

Anyway”, her voice lowered as she checked she had the full attention of her audience, “I hear Harding’s already fixed something up. A replacement. S Raymond Kowalski.”

“Kowalski? Like the Stella Kowalski?” asked Tom.

“The ex-husband of,” replied Francesca with a knowing nod. “I saw her on TV last night. She’s doing very well for herself.”

“What else do you know about him?”

“Well I heard he has a tattoo...and he was nominated for three Golden Batons.”

Despite Francesca’s obvious pleasure at her knowledge of their new conductor, Benton couldn’t understand how any of this information could be of practicable use. “What’s a Golden Baton?”

Francesca seemed slightly deflated by having to provide further explanation. “It’s an award for conductors, given by Midwestern Music Monthly Magazine.”

“Oh, that’s just not fair,” complained Tom. “Why don’t they give awards to trombone players too?”

“Because a ‘Golden Bone’ award sounds like something a porn magazine would give out,” replied Francesca, manoeuvring her way around Jack and laying a hand on Benton’s arm. “Isn’t that right, Benton?”

Mercifully, Benton was saved from discussing pornography with Francesca by the arrival of the Chicago Philharmonia’s managing director, Harding Welsh. He was accompanied by another man, presumably the S Raymond Kowalski they all knew so much – or so little – about. Kowalski was about the same height as Benton, but of a leaner build. His fair hair was spiked and he wore a faded grey t-shirt with a rather worn looking pair of jeans – a marked contrast to his predecessor who always took such care over the neatness of his appearance. Benton noticed a narrow stripe of red and black under the edge of Kowalski’s sleeve. His thumbs were tucked into the pockets of his jeans, his hands resting at the top of his thighs, and Benton’s gaze followed the long fingers as they pointed down Kowalski’s long legs. He felt a pulse of heat surge through his blood, even more so when he looked up and found Kowalski staring straight at him.

Welsh raised his hands to quiet those who hadn’t noticed his presence and were still chattering. “Ladies and gentlemen. Please be seated for a moment. I imagine many of you are anxious to find out what’s going on.”

The orchestra members sat, by force of habit, in their usual section places. Welsh waited until he had everyone’s attention before speaking again. Benton was ready to listen, but he also watched Kowalski with interest.

“I know some of you aren’t too happy that Ray Vecchio took the job at the Nevada State Orchestra, and with only ten days until the centenary concert, I appreciate the timing is far from ideal,” Welsh said. “But we are fortunate that S Raymond Kowalski is...available to step in at such short notice. So, I’ll hand you straight over to him – I expect he’d like to say a few words before you all get started. Mr Kowalski?” Welsh stepped to one side to allow Kowlaski to take the central position at the conductor’s stand, but Kowalski finished the long, appraising look he was giving the orchestra, ending with a long look at Benton, before moving forward to speak.

“Okay. So...um, the name...” He stopped to clear his throat. “The name thing. Just ‘S’ is kind of weird, ‘S Raymond’ isn’t any better, so I go by Ray. You can all just call me Ray, like the last guy.” His expression remained a mixture of apology and challenge as he carried on, “ And yes, the Stella Kowalski on the Stella’s Flute Fantasy CD is my ex-wife.” Out of the corner of his eye Benton saw Francesca give Tom and Jack a slightly triumphant look, but he was more interested in the new Ray to pay them any further attention. He didn’t look particularly nervous to be there, but he definitely had an abundance of nervous energy. His long fingers were tapping at the stand, as if it were impossible to keep them still. Benton gave him a small smile, in what he hoped was an encouraging way. Ray relaxed slightly, having clearly got the two most uncomfortable points he had to make over with.

“So, what else? I love conducting, but I may not do it in a way you’re used to. I’m gonna ask you to play things in a way you’ve probably never been asked to play them before. Sometimes I use proper Italian terms and sometimes I don’t – I just say what I want to say. I rarely use a baton – golden or otherwise.” There was a faint murmur from a few of the players at this last remark and Benton felt a slight thrill at the way Ray had already summed up some of the orchestra members. He looked again at the hands Ray would use to lead them through the music. They appeared as elegant as a floating melody and as strong as a heavy bass line. Benton wondered which musical instrument would suit those hands best, and was, as if Ray had read his thoughts, answered immediately.

“Before I became a conductor I studied the cello so I’ll give you fair warning, I tend to ride the strings pretty hard.” He looked directly at Benton and at the musicians assembled around him and then smiled. “But, on the upside, I’ll bitch with you about fingerings and if I can help with technique or anything, then that’s cool too.”

Ray waited, as the cellists gave some pantomime groans at the idea of being under extra scrutiny from their new conductor, before he went on. “Okay. This morning we’re just going to run through the concert pieces you’re....we’re....working on at the moment. No stopping, no picking apart, just a play through to see what you can do and how you follow me. So, I’ll give you 5 minutes to get ready, tune up and we’ll work through the Copland, Bartok, Bernstein and Holst in that order.”

A voice from near the back called out, “Whatever you say, ‘S’!” Tom Dewey’s feeble joke was met with more groans than giggles, but Ray held up his hand and addressed the players with mock seriousness.

“Don’t laugh at the trombones, please. It only encourages them.” There was more laughter, genuinely good humoured this time, as people started to get up and move to where they had left their instrument cases.

Benton stood, ready to collect his violin, but was met with Ray Kowalski’s outstretched hand.

“You’re Benton Fraser, right?” Ray said.

“Yes,” Benton replied with a nod.

“Okay. Good.” The handshake lasted longer than expected and Ray suddenly gave an embarrassed smile and dropped Benton’s hand.

“I’ll let you...um..” He gestured as if to let Benton pass by.

“Yes, I’ll....” Benton moved away, feeling the heat in his face as he walked over to where he’d put his violin case.

Renfield Turnbull, who played the French horn, was warming up next to him. “He’s a bit scruffy, don’t you think?” he asked.

“Perhaps a little different from what we’re used to,” Benton ventured, as neutrally as possible. He accepted the musical responsibility that came with his position as leader of the orchestra, but was a little bemused by the way in which the other members gave their opinions so freely and frequently to him, as if he were the orchestra shop steward. Perhaps the fact that he’d been involved in...unrest...in the past had given the impression that he actively sought confrontation.

He also had personal reasons for wanting to keep his impressions of Ray Kowalski private for the time being. He felt disoriented by this new Ray – or by his possible attraction to him, his feelings as jumbled as the random tuning notes and passages which now filled the room. Blocking them out, he used the routine of preparing to play to calm himself. He breathed in time to the sweeping strokes he made as he applied the rosin from one end of his bow to the other. He adjusted the shoulder rest and let the familiarity of the violin under his chin, in his hand, part of him, settle his nerves.

Once everyone was ready and tuned, Ray returned to the conductor’s stand. Benton watched with fascination as Ray shrugged his shoulders several times and rolled his neck from one side to the other. The exposed stretch of Ray’s neck was extremely appealing, though Benton was concerned at how much Ray resembled a boxer, preparing to fight. Remembering the challenge in Ray’s expression earlier, he hoped they were not about to do battle with the music. Benton glanced around at the expectant faces of the orchestra and then gave Ray a small nod to let him know they were all ready to play. Ray gave an answering nod and held up his hands. They were about to begin.

Benton’s fear that Ray would be a combative conductor disappeared immediately. Ray adapted himself to the varying styles of the different pieces, blending in as if he were inside the music, invisibly woven together with the time signatures, tunes and textures. He could switch instantly from intense energy to utter calm, and although at times his whole body moved with the music, it was his hands which captivated Benton. He was astonished by their eloquence. Never before had he found the beat, or the conductor’s intentions so easy to follow. Benton expected to play the correct notes – he was a professional musician, after all – but today everything seemed to fall under his fingers with a rightness he couldn’t explain, and he played louder, softer, faster and with more feeling than he could ever remember playing before. Ray said nothing between each piece – he just nodded to himself and made one or two notes before picking up the next score and letting his expressive hands say everything that needed to be said. Benton wished the rehearsal would never end, but eventually the last chord came. The sound died away, and Ray held them all in position for several more seconds, totally still. Only when he finally lowered his hands did the orchestra relax, seeming to take a collective breath as they did so.

“Okay. See you tomorrow,” was all Ray said. The players began to move away, but Benton once again found his exit blocked by Ray Kowalski. Ray’s slight breathlessness mirrored Benton’s own and the two men stood looking at each other for a moment before Ray spoke.

“So. Do you think you can work with me?”

ds_snippets: New Leaf On The Tree

2009-05-24T19:27:49Z

Title: New Leaf On The Tree
Fandom and character: due South, Bob Fraser
Rating: PG
Length: 133
Prompt: leaf
Author's Notes: due South is not mine. Spoilers for Hunting Season. Title taken from lyrics to From Hank To Hendrix by Neil Young

New Leaf On The Tree

A daughter.

Great Scott – a daughter!

I thought our family tree had withered. I thought it would end with Benton. He won’t make a branch of his own – I may be dead but I’m not blind! He’s made his choice and, as happy as I hope it makes him, there’ll be no offspring there.

Benton. Benton has a sister. That’s good. I hope she’ll be better family for him than I’ve ever been.

And Maggie. My daughter. She’s had her heart broken but she’s young and strong. She may learn to may love again and this next generation may turn out to be a beginning rather than an end. A new branch on the Fraser family tree? It’s a possibility. But for now, at least, it’s nice just to have a new leaf.....

ds_snippets Rec-a-thon challege Masterlist

2009-05-23T21:10:48Z

This was such a great challege - I'm looking forward to some catch-up snippet reading!

Author's LJ: keerawa
Fandom/Pairing: dS, Benton Fraser, Bob Fraser, Ray Kowalski
Link to story: The Case of the Missing Stetson
Why I love this snippet: The Fraser snark between father and son is made of win – as is the image of a seven year old Benton standing at parade rest....

Author's LJ: spuffyduds
Fandom/Pairing: due South, Fraser, Ray K
Link to story: Radio Fraser
Why I love this snippet: I love to see Fraser’s sense of humour. Ray K sees it here for the first time.

Author's LJ: nos4a2no9
Fandom/Pairing: due South, F/K
Link to story: Body Modification
Why I love this snippet: This snippet is full of beautiful imagery... and honesty – In all truth, Fraser envied Ray’s body before he loved it.

Author's LJ: keerawa
Fandom/Pairing: due South, Fraser, Ray K
Link to story: The Return of Nautilus
Why I love this snippet: Fraser makes a mistake, which makes me (though possibly not Ray K...) love him more than ever.

Author's LJ: brigantine1
Fandom/Pairing: due South, F/K
Link to story: Home Is Where The Dictionary Is
Why I love this snippet: Fraser’s embarrassment. Thatcher’s bafflement. RayK’s mischievous “Wow, that’s a lotta swelling goin’ on.”

ds_snippets: Nothing Personal

2009-05-10T18:55:21Z

Title: Nothing Personal
Fandom and Pairing: due South, Fraser-centric with another character (reader's choice!) implied
Rating: PG
Length: 288 words
Prompt: case
Author’s Notes: due South is not mine. Many thanks and hugs to akamine_chan for a wise and helpful beta. ETA - and for pointing out that I'd disabled comments on dreamwidth *and* lj - *sigh*

Nothing Personal

He opens the newspaper and goes straight to the personal ads, like he always does. Even from here, I can see he’s tense as he starts to read. I think I know what he’s looking for, but I don’t know why...and I never ask.

********

It began in the hospital, after...well. After. He’d woken one afternoon to the end of a movie whose flimsy plot hung on the characters communicating through a series of messages in the personals section of a newspaper. In what probably had been a pain-medication-induced haze, he had convinced himself that she would contact him in the same way. One of the nurses got him a Sunday Tribune and he’d studied the random announcements and cryptic messages but found nothing. Disappointed and frustrated, he’d obsessively re-read the personals that day, determined that the meaning of one of those indecipherable messages would reveal itself to him if he just studied it enough. He had no idea what code she would use – he just had to trust he would recognise it when he saw it.

Each new day brought another paper, another search.

Years later, he is still looking – just in case – but things have changed. He isn’t looking for a connection now; now he looks for a warning. Unlike the last time, he wants to see her approach, wants to be ready to protect the new life and the new family he has made for himself. He finds comfort in the patterns he sees in the daily notices – repetition, recognition, rhythm – but vigilance while tracking is important, even in the most familiar of landscapes.

Nothing. Today is safe.

********

He hasn’t found anything. His shoulders sag. I hope it’s relief, but I’m afraid it might be disappointment.

leafy22 @ 2009-05-10T13:44:00

2009-05-10T12:57:51Z

Happy Birthday, luzula !

I hope you have a lovely day!

dS fic - He's No Mug

2009-05-03T21:40:26Z

New fic - inspired by this picture

It could be set in the same universe as Tea For One For Two or One Man's Sweet Is Another Man's Poison.
It's due South (which is not mine) F/K, about 500 words and for prudence_dearly , because she likes this sort of thing.

He’s No Mug

“And Francesca really didn’t see the...problem with the wording?”

Ray shook his head, grinning as he picked up one of the mugs.

“She thought they’d ‘boost the morale’ of the people on the night shift. Apparently it took Welsh ten minutes to explain it to her. There’s a rumour that he had to resort to diagrams, but, I don’t know...” Ray shrugged. “Upshot is, we all got two to take home. Welsh said he didn’t want to see them around the station – said it would ‘tarnish our otherwise spectacular relationship with the public.’”

“Well, I can see his point,” Fraser said. “I’m not sure I’d want to use one. The slogan is in rather poor taste.”

“I think it’s hilarious.” Ray slowly traced his fingertip around the star-like shape on the side of the mug before suddenly looking up, directly, at Fraser. “Do you want a tea or something?”

Fraser only realised he’d ‘hmm’ed in agreement once he heard Ray’s exclamation of “Greatness!” and watched him snatch up the pair of mugs and head into the kitchen. It wasn’t the first time he’d been caught off-guard whilst appreciating Ray’s hands and it almost certainly wouldn’t be the last. He cleared his throat. “On second thoughts, Ray, I think I’d rather have a glass of water, thank you kindly.”

Over the course of the next week or so, the only mugs of tea Fraser drank at home were the ones he made himself when Ray was either out or still asleep. Ray offered Fraser enough tea to float a two-man canoe, but always with a glint in his eye that he couldn’t quite manage to hide. Ray gleefully used what he called his ‘mug of death’ for every single coffee, a couple of hot chocolates and even, on one occasion, soup, but Fraser had remained vigilant and had so far managed to avoid having to drink out of one himself.

He had at least managed to persuade Ray not to give one to Constable Turnbull as a birthday gift and Ray had, of his own volition, put the mugs at the back of the cupboard when his father called round, to remove the possibility of re-opening any old wounds.

Then, on Thursday evening, Ray came home and announced, “Well, Frannie’s done it again.”

He put his gym bag on the coffee table, unzipped it and began to rummage through the contents.

Fraser’s feelings on hearing this news were decidedly mixed. On the one hand he would probably now be able to stop trying to dodge those awful mugs. On the other, what fresh mischief would Ray make now?

“Aha!” Ray found what he was looking for. “She’s managed to get the most completely useless thing possible for the night shift guys – so more goodies for the rest of us. Here, catch.”

Fraser caught....and cautiously opened the rectangular box.

Oh dear. Francesca had, literally, made another spectacular misjudgement.

“Sunglasses?”

leafy22 @ 2009-05-02T22:13:00

2009-05-02T21:38:54Z

1. Okaaaay, I'm going to try posting this from dreamwidth to see if I can work out the crossposting thing. I am leafy on dreamwidth. (Oh the angsting over whether to '22' or not. Be glad you missed it.) I'm starting to add people, although I've already accidentally joined a community I didn't mean to and left it straight away. Perhaps I will wait a day or seek advice before I attempt to import my lj...

2. Yesterday I knew 4 swine flu jokes. Today that number has risen to 6 and may climb higher still! Panic in the streets!

3. This photo posted by prudence_dearly has got me thinking about a little ficlet. Some people specialise in angstful angst or porny porn, but me? Hot drinks, apparently.

leafy22 @ 2009-04-08T21:56:00

2009-04-08T21:15:19Z

In ds_con_envy news....

lucifuge_5 asked for F/K established relationship with the prompt "and now the other...". I included a Sudoku-solving Dief and wrote One Man's Sweet Is Another Man's Poison for her.

I asked for any happy sort of F/K or gen story. Prompt: "Delusions of grandeur? More like delusions of adequacy." and alex51324 wrote me a fantastic snippet, Delusions Of Grandeur, where the boys finally buy a clue.

Plus, seekrit message to luzula - thank you for the lovely postcard!

What would Fraser think?

2009-03-11T20:15:36Z

Giving out leaflets to my class today about a sports playscheme week over the Easter holidays, I noticed one of the activities was 'New Age Kurling.' I can't decide whether Fraser would be delighted at the idea of children discovering the joys of curling or whether the 'K' would make him sad.......

Happy 11th March, everyone!

Birthday greetings!

2009-03-07T22:58:40Z

Happy Birthday Nos!

Happy Birthday, dearest you - and many more happy days to come.
Thank you for being so full of fabulous Nos-ness!
♥♥♥♥♥

ds_snippets: Here's Looking At Hue

2009-02-18T22:13:01Z

Title: Here's Looking At Hue
Fandom and Pairing: due South - Frannie, Stella (RayV/Stella if you squint)
Rating: PG
Length: 220 words
Prompt: aubergine
Author’s Notes: due South isn't mine - especially the dialogue taken from 'Perfect Strangers'. Thanks to vsee for the once over. Pineapples are yummy too.

Here's Looking At Hue

ds_snippets: Quick Step, Slow Step, Stop Step, Go Step

2009-02-15T21:52:22Z

Title: Quick Step, Slow Step, Stop Step, Go Step
Fandom and Pairing: due South, Fraser/Kowalski
Rating: PG
Length: 292 words
Prompts: spin, fall
Author’s Notes: due South is not mine. Beta thanks to akamine_chan (doesn’t she look splendid in her new hat?) and luzula .

Quick Step, Slow Step, Stop Step, Go Step

Happy More Joy Day!

2009-01-15T18:36:05Z

In honour of More Joy Day, I offer you, not something fannish but...........a tree.

It’s amazing the effect these seedlings will have when they’ve taken root! As well as providing fruit or nuts to help communities become self sufficient, trees provide shade and shelter, and even prevent soil erosion.

25 trees covers everyone on my flist so you have all given a tree to someone who needs it! Much joy to you all, today and always. ♥

ETA. I've been given a tree too, accompanied by a gorgeous F/K smut-let, which you can find here. Thank you, Seekrit friend!

Microfics

2009-01-10T21:40:50Z

I spotted this first over at nos4a2no9 's journal - I'm looking forward to reading the others that have appeared on my friends list once I've posted these!

Try to write different categories of fic (angst, fluff, UST, etc.) in 10 30 words or less

Kidfic

Benton had taught Ray how to plait Isabelle’s hair using her doll. He missed watching Ray’s agile hands at work once she could do it herself....but hoped for grand-daughters.

Episode related

None of the usual bitching about wolf hair on the seats tonight – Ray was too pleased at having the GTO back. Fraser was just pleased to have the wolf.

H/C

I’ve spent the last three nights sitting here, listening to the beep of the monitors and Ray’s murmurs of ‘Stella’. Today though, he opened his eyes. Smiled. Said ‘Ben’.

Crack

Buck had been delighted to see Sprocket again. However, six months later, the strain of the nightly phantom Musical Ride rehearsals was beginning to take its toll.

Angst

Their sled used to take them everywhere together. It isn’t used anymore these days.

AU

“...And coming up later on Arts Review, we talk to the Philharmonia’s principal violinist, Benton Fraser, about the appointment of their charismatic and controversial new conductor, S. Raymond Kowalski...”

Fluff

There’ll be disapproval, just like years ago. At least this time as Ray buys the ring he isn’t nervous about asking the question. He knows the answer will be yes.

Crossover

“Any luck?” asked Ray as the Duck Boys came into the bullpen. “No,” said Dewey. “They weren’t the droids we were looking for.”

2008 writing round-up

2009-01-02T22:02:36Z

Here's the year end writing meme, for who am I to say no to Nos.....?

Written for ds_flashfiction

Written for ds_snippets

Tea For One For Two

Written for ds_aprilfools

Written for ds_con_envy

You Are What You Eat

Also...

Ray Lends A Hand...And A Leg...Or Two - written for nos4a2no9 's birthday comm,nolimbs4u

(Something Spherical) - written for vsee 's birthday and inspired by her musings about *koff* terminology. The brackets are because it was more of a working file name and an lj cut, but I suppose it probably is the story's official title too.

At First Sight - inspired by comments at a dS chat and dedicated to sisterofdream

I also wrote a Verbotene Liebe Christian/Olli ficlet, Not Alone

I'm surprised at this list - I really hadn't thought I'd written 11 things this year as it's felt like a very lean writing year for me.

My best story(ies) of this year / My favourite story of this year: I think I'm particularly fond of Tea For One For Two (which also became a funky, leaf-shaped Wordle picture) and You Are What You Eat. Melt and Sing To Me, Come Home To Me took pictures that had been in my head for ages and became stories (freeing up a little bit of mental space!) which I enjoyed writing and reading.

Most fun story to write: Well, I made myself laugh while I was writing You Are What You Eat, Ray Lends A Hand... and Something Spherical. I'm never sure whether that's a good thing or not.....

Sexiest story / Story with the single sexiest moment: Maybe Melt, or the kiss in Tea For One For Two, or trying to get the shoes off the bed in Not Alone.

Most "Holy crap, that's wrong, even for you" story: Hmmm...the number of testicle related puns in Something Spherical....?

Hardest story to write: I had a picture in my head of the scenes in And In Whose Arms You're Gonna Be and I just didn't feel they they came across in the story as they were in my head.

Biggest Disappointment: Only managing 3 aprilfools fics

Biggest Surprise: Sometimes actually writing something was a pretty big surprise!

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you'd predicted? I've not got much to compare to as I only started writing in 2007. I've written less this year than in 2007, mainly because of the 30 pieces I completed for the 2007 aprilfools. However, I'm not terribly satisfied with the quality of all those entries. Maybe time will tell, and it will be interesting to look back this time next year, but I think my 2008 writing is a little more considered, on the whole.

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January 2007? Umm...photo POV? And Verbotene Liebe has been a new fandom this year.

Did you take any writing risks this year? (See above for unexpected pairings, etc.) What did you learn from them? I wrote things for people this year - gifts and exchanges - which was something new for me. I also wrote something that wasn't for a challenge or a comm or anything like that, posted it in my journal and pimped it on the noticeboard (then had a large glass of wine!) That felt like a bit of a risk to me. I betaed for the first time this year too.

Do you have any fanfic or profic goals for the New Year? Every time I write something I wonder if that's the last one. So to write something in 2009 would be good. Maybe I'll finally get the angsty, other dS character POV piece to be more than just random lines on a page..... I'd like to continue to respond to prompts and challenges as well as post fic independently. Plus, I must definitely archive something in 2009!

I'd like to thank the academy... sageness , zabira , akamine_chan and luzula all betaed for me during 2008 and I'm very grateful for their support and insight. Thanks to vsee , too, for that golden ticket! I'd also like to say a huge thank you to anyone who's left comments - each one makes me smile and glad I wrote something.

Quack quack!

2008-11-25T21:42:23Z

For akamine_chan and love_jackianto - here are your little ducks before they swam off their separate ways!

dS ficlet for sisterofdream

2008-11-22T22:53:13Z

Title: At First Sight
Pairing: F/K
Rating: PG
Length: ~580 words
Summary: “So, when did you realise? You say you don’t believe in love at first sight, so was it more of a gradual revelation to you?”
Author’s note 1: Spoilers for Eclipse. Could be set after Say Amen. due South isn't mine.
Author’s note 2: Many thanks to luzula for beta and comma therapy.
Author’s note 3: The idea for this fic was inspired by some comments during a recent Saturday dS chat – it is dedicated to our trusty Captain of Awesome,sisterofdream.

At First Sight

”So, when did you realise? You say you’re not sure you believe in love at first sight, so was it more of a gradual revelation to you?”

“There was definitely some lust at first sight. You’re kind of cute when you’re confused, you know that?”

“Cute?”

“Cute. Hey, give me more of the blanket, it’s freezing tonight. I guess it was gradual – with the random flashes of lust, obviously – though there was definitely a moment early on, the day in the crypt, you remember?”

“Yes, I do.”

“It was like a sign that we were gonna, well...you know.”

“That was quite an eventful day. You revealed your true identity to me – although I knew it anyway.”

“Of course you did, 'Mr Prudent'.”

“I told you I’d be proud to call you my partner and my friend.”

“Your attractive partner and friend.”

“Ah yes – that question. As I said, it was an eventful day.”

“It sure was. C’mon, you’ve still got all the blanket. The sign wasn’t any of those things though.”

“Was it the dream catcher?”

“I had very good dreams that night – I dreamt about you.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah, and as soon as you quit worrying about whatever the sign was, I’ll show you what I was doing to you in my dream.”

“Mmmm, that sounds good.”

“It’s gonna feel good, too.”

“Although, strictly speaking, the traditional purpose of a dream catcher is really to catch and keep away bad dreams, rather than induce fantasies of an erotic nature.”

“You believe that if you want to. Me, I think sleeping next to you is what keeps my bad dreams away these nights.”

“Thank you, Ray.”

“You’re welcome, Frase – now stop hogging the blanket! But it wasn’t the dream catcher.”

“Oh. Was it the party?”

“Right, Fraser. Because trout is the way to my heart.”

“Ah. Understood. So was it....”

“This is really bugging you, isn’t it?”

“I’m sorry. If I’m bothering you, I can always go and sleep in the...”

“Okay, okay. But it’s...well, it’s kind of sappy, so you have to promise not to laugh or anything like that.”

“I promise.”

“Mountie’s honour?”

“Mountie’s honour.”

“May the Queen go bald if I...”

“Ray!”

“It was my glasses, alright? I gave you my glasses when we were in the crypt, and they were all smudgy from the dust and everything. But when you gave them back to me, you know, behind that gravestone, they were clean. I noticed as soon as I put them on, and I knew then how great we would be together – set ‘em up, knock ‘em down... “

“...the best duet ever.”

“Right. You cleaned my glasses for me and I really liked that you seemed to care about me enough to do something like that. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I still thought you were a freak but, I think, when I look back on it, that’s when I started to fall in love with you. See? I told you it was kind of sappy.”

“Not at all...”

“Well. Good. Okay then. Now can we....”

“...but I didn’t clean your glasses. Admittedly they were in my pocket along with my handkerchief, which may have inadvertently wiped over the lenses whilst I was moving, and...Ray...Ray?”

“You ever heard of the expression ‘too honest for your own good’, Fraser?”

“Ah. Yes. Are you still cold? Perhaps you would like more of the blanket and... maybe I could help to warm you up.....”

\o/

2008-11-05T07:10:37Z

I heard the news on the radio alarm and lay in bed yelling "Yes, yes YES!" (sorry, neighbours!)
Enjoy the celebrations US flisters - I am with you in spirit!

Let's dancercise!

2008-08-24T19:05:34Z

I was watching A bit of Fry and Laurie last night. Stephen Fry as a dancercising quantity surveyor = awesome.

VL ficlet

2008-08-09T19:38:42Z

Title: Not Alone
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Christian / Olli
Language: English ~630 words
Disclaimer: VL characters and dialogue don’t belong to me. Translation of dialogue in opening line courtesy of ichglotzutube.
Summary: This is a response to the mini fanfic fest on seifen_slash. The scene I was given was the comfort scene (about 5:30 minutes in) after Christian fired Wolle Grandetzki and before Gregor walks in on Christian and Olli.

Not Alone

“Well,” said Olli, tapping Christian’s wrist lightly, “you still wouldn’t be all alone.”

Christian sighed – all he’d done today was sigh or shout – and rested his head on Olli’s shoulder. He watched Olli’s thumb stroking back and forth over his knuckles and felt the gentle kiss Olli pressed to his temple.

And it was true – he wasn’t alone. Olli was sitting here with him, waiting for him, giving him the time he needed – just as he’d always said he would. Olli had been there for him throughout his new training regime, jogging with him, working out with him, loving him. Meanwhile, he knew he’d become fitter, stronger, more sure of his boxing talents. Beating Axel in their latest bout – without the steroids – had made him certain of that. Christian had really started to feel that with having Olli’s support and a contract for the big fight he had the best of both worlds...as long as he could keep those worlds apart.

Unfortunately those worlds had collided. Catastrophically. But it wasn’t just the Olli issue that had made working for Grandetzki so unbearable in the end. The way Grandetzki insisted on his fighters taking steroids was dirty. Christian wanted to win, but he wanted to do it honestly. Finding out that there appeared to be so much cheating amongst Grandetzki’s boxers had been a crushing disappointment. If that was what the boxing community was really like then he needed to re-think his dreams rather than let down himself, his brother...and his father. He’d been looking forward to telling Grandetzki he’d achieved his success without taking any of the drugs and now it didn’t seem as if that would happen.

“He said I’d be less than a nobody.”

Olli jerked his head up to look at him. “Gregor?”

“No, Grandetzki.”

“Rubbish.” Olli huffed out a derisive half laugh as he leaned his head back against the wall. “Forget about him. He doesn’t know anything.” He turned to look at Christian. “He doesn’t know you.”

Christian met Olli’s gaze and felt in a rush, the joy and relief of being here, just with Olli – someone who did know him, someone he could be truly honest with.

He tried rolling over, reaching to put his arms round Olli and ended up in the tangle of bedcovers bundled between them. As they giggled, tugging and flapping at the covers to straighten them out, something caught Christian’s eye.

“Olli, you’ve got your shoes on the bed.”

“Oops,” Olli grinned. “Sorry.”

Without unlacing his shoes, Olli pulled them off and threw them onto the floor – and then his socks.

Christian bit back his smile, trying as hard as he could to look serious. “You’ve got your clothes on the bed too,” he said, pulling lightly at the hem of Olli’s shirt and then at the belt loop of his jeans.

Olli’s look of amusement disappeared beneath his shirt as he pulled it off over his head and Christian set to work unbuckling his belt. As he popped the button of Olli’s fly, Olli’s hand stopped him. Christian looked at him, frowning slightly.

“What about your clothes?”

He was tempted for the briefest moment to tell Olli it was his bed, his rules, because keeping his clothes on while Olli got naked might be kind of interesting. No - another time, maybe. What he needed now was skin to skin contact with Olli, holding him as close as he could and knowing that everything was still right at least in this part of his life.

Christian stripped quickly – not as quickly as Olli but then he’d had a head start. He slid under the covers, into Olli’s arms and they wrapped themselves around each other. They lay like that for long moments, enjoying the feeling of being together...

...just the two of them...

Birthday ficlet for vsee

2008-08-03T10:59:44Z

♥ Happy Birthday, Vee! ♥

It has been such a pleasure getting to know you. Your comments, your writing and most of all your friendship are a real source of joy for me and I wish you a truly happy year ahead. ♥ ♥ ♥

(A while ago you made this post - and later mentioned your hope that it would inspire some fic from someone. You may not have been hoping for something quite as silly as this, but.... )

“Print, damn you.”

I look around to see if Fraser’s arrived – computers understand him – but there’s no sign of him yet. Every time I try printing again I get the same stupid error message and I really need to get this done before I go. Fraser fixed this for me the other day. I can’t remember exactly what he said he did, but I do remember I got a pretty good view of his ass sticking out from under the desk while he was busy down there.

I slide off my chair with a sigh and crawl underneath my desk. There’s a couple of cables hanging down that I’m fairly sure should be connected somewhere. Fraser said I fidget so much that it makes them work themselves loose but I reckon Dief must pull them out or something. It’s dark under here and I can’t really see what I need to do. This is reason number five million and seven why I hate computers. The damn things don’t work half the time and when they do they make my eyes go fuzzy real quick.

Sticking my arm out from under the desk, I reach out and up to fetch my glasses. My hand is suddenly stopped by something before it reaches the desk top. I push my palm upwards against whatever’s blocking the way. Fabric, thick and scratchy, soft weight resting on the heel of my hand.

Oh.

I twist my head and look through the space between my body and my arm. Yep, there are the shiny boots...and that’s the edge of his tunic I can feel bumping up against my wrist.

Fraser and I both know we’re building up to something, I think, but blindly groping between his legs in the middle of the squad room hasn’t really been how I saw things progressing between us. Still, it could be worse. It could have been Dewey...or Welsh.

I realize that I haven’t moved and I’ve been...cupping a very vulnerable part of Fraser for about ten seconds now.

Maybe if I stay real still, he’ll just take his balls out of my hand and leave.

“Um, Ray?”

Or maybe not.

I back out from under the desk, pretty sure my face is as red as The Serge. I glance at Fraser, for about half a split second, but he doesn’t look pissed or freaked out, just a bit...curious.

“Um, sorry about that, Fraser. I was looking for my glasses.”

Fraser gives me a look that’s just a bit too innocent to really be innocent.

“Oh, so it was a pair of spectacles you were searching for?”

I don’t believe it. He’s teasing me about this. I wonder if this is going to become a running joke between us and suddenly I see a picture from our future – him pretending to remember the first time I felt him up and me acting annoyed, giving him a hard kiss as I mock growl at him to shut up.

I groan quietly and turn away, still embarrassed. He gets under the desk – and this time I deliberately don’t look. A few seconds later he says “Try it now,” and the printer whirrs into life. As he comes back out I busy myself with shutting down the computer trying to ignore the hot feeling in my face – and my palm.

Fraser pulls the sheet off the printer and I steal a glance at him . He’s obviously still proud of his little joke because he’s doing that lip twitch thing which is like Fraser-speak for clutching his sides and wiping away the tears because he’s laughing so hard. I’d love to see him really let go and laugh like that with me.

“I’ve got some balls,” Dewey shouts across the room.

Fraser raises an amused eyebrow at me. Damn him. Damn him to Canada. And back, obviously.

“You’ve ...you’ve ... ? What?” asks Huey.

“The robbery from the sports store. A crate of soccer balls has shown up at the fitness centre on Le Sac Street. It’s a lead – let’s go. I’ll drive”

“No, I’ll drive.”

“You drove last time...”

They’re so busy arguing as they go through the door they bump into Frannie without even noticing. Mind you, she’s too busy struggling to open a small bag of something or other to be looking where she’s going either.

“Jeez, what are they so testy about?” she complains. Fraser makes a squeaky sound like someone just trod on his toes and I close my eyes, feeling like fate is just kicking me in the head today, over and over again.

Frannie’s finally got the bag open now and the bullpen is quiet enough that I can hear the plastic crinkle as she offers it to Fraser and smiles at him.

“Hey Frase. Interested in some nuts?”

Fraser’s attempt at a cough is too high pitched to be truly convincing, in my expert opinion, but even I’m finding it hard not to laugh now. Definitely time to get out of here – and time to get Fraser out before he bursts something.

I know he doesn’t trust himself enough to speak so I say “Later, Frannie. Thank you kindly,” for both of us and as I put my hand on his shoulder to guide him out I can feel his body shaking with the effort of holding himself back.

We walk to the car without speaking or looking at each other. He gets in first and then the second I close my door behind me he starts to giggle. I turn to look at him and I start giggling too because, yeah, I suppose that whole episode back there was pretty funny, but his laughter is so infectious I just can’t help myself. In the end he actually does have to wipe the tears away – and it’s one of the best things I’ve ever seen.

When we’re done we sit there – breathing kind of hard – and I feel like for the second time today, something weirdly intimate has happened between us. Fraser’s leaning back against the head rest, looking totally relaxed. He puts his hand over mine where it’s resting on the brake. “Your place? There’s a few things I’d like to say...and do.”

I smile back at him. “Yeah, me too. My place it is.”

And off we go.

Even MORE joy!

2008-07-05T20:56:25Z

Someone sent me a brain in a jar! It came with the most totally gorgeous snippet of Fraser practising being lazy - but all in a very worthwhile cause!

I was very smiley and happy when I read it and you will be too.
♥ ♥ ♥ and ♥ to my anonymous gift-giver!

Random list of joyful things

2008-07-03T19:34:46Z

*I've been podficced! The ever lovely

vsee has made a recording of a story I wrote for ds_flashfictionlast year - Five Times Ray Kowalski Tried To Make Someone Feel At Home (Even If It Didn't Always Work). It's such an honour and a thrill to hear Vee's beautiful, gentle voice read something I wrote and I couldn't stop smiling with JOY as I listened to it. *hearts Vee*

*I betaed for the first time this week. I was a little nervous about not having done it before but I really enjoyed being thinky about akamine_chan's fantastic story Spiders From Mars - and having a sneak preview of it! The fact that it also hit my space kink and my competent!Ray kink was just a bonus really... *hearts aka*

*We had an 'if you see someone without a smile, give them one of yours' rule in my class today. *hearts my smiling class*

*The biography of Michael Collins I ordered arrived today. He may not have actually walked on the moon but I reckon he's still way cooler than Neil or Buzz.. I mean, he claims to be a veteran member of Athletics Anonymous - 'that stellar organisation which, when you feel the urge to exercise, will send someone over to drink with you until you return to your senses.' *hearts Michael Collins*

ETA - I can't work out how not to have that annoying space in the top line - but I'm refusing to let it squash my joy!

ETA 2 - I've just received an lj gift certificate ~~but I don't know who from! I can only assume it's from one of my dear flist, so~~ thank you very very much - ~~whoever you are!~~ j_s_cavalcante !