So this year I spread my wings and wrote two, two I tell you fics:

I have to see a man about a god - Greek mythology, Apollo + Dionysus + Artemis + Athena + the rest of the gang in a 1920s mobster AU with a murder mystery flavour.

What's another four dead bodies in a city with Zeus as its unofficial king? Apollo just wants to be left alone with his poems and his latest broken heart. Unfortunately for him, Artemis has other ideas. Even more unfortunately, Athena's roped in a stranger to help him solve it. Apollo doesn't make the best first impression on Dionysus, but they've got bigger things to worry about as they race to catch the killer before he finds his next victim. As they pull the threads, a sordid history begins to unravel...


Still here? I had a blast writing this although I wish I'd seen this chart before I started - but anyway, it turns out that you can write things with a lot of words when you have an actual plot - also Greek mythology is my favourite set ever. It was really hard to keep quiet about this because I wrote this for [livejournal.com profile] moetushie, and what are the odds of getting someone you know for yuletide, let alone someone on your flist?


Then I trawled through the Yuletide prompts and one for Horrible Histories latched on to me, so I also wrote a treat for Skew:

Cranky Christmasses - Horrible Histories, the News at When team trying to celebrate

It's the twenty-fifth of December at the HHTV studios and the News at When team isn't in the best Christmas spirit. Sam is losing the battle with her sudoku, Mike runs into trouble on a historical field report, and Bob is convinced Santa is trying to kill him. Can the exchanging of gifts bring them some much-needed cheer? What is terrorising the interns in the kitchen? And will anyone ever think of the rats?


Apologies to everyone who left me lovely reviews and only just got replies! I keep going back and reading them when I'm feeling a bit rough. Thanks for reading and see you same time next year!
YULETIDE FIC IS POSTED!!!!

*falls in a heap*

(Also if you're my Yuletide author, I may not be able to read your story on the 25th. I'm looking forward to it very much though!)
Finally I coded it properly and apparently LJ is using its backup hamster for speed, but here it is!

Title: Spare Me Your Pity, Lend Me Your Ears
Warnings:  PG-13 for swearing and non-explicit mentions of rape
Summary: The Downfall of Numenor was written by those of the Faithful who survived and fled to Middle-earth. The last Queen of Numenor thinks it’s about time someone told the other side of the story.

Fic is here

Post full of notes that did not fit is here
These are notes for the fic I wrote about Tar-Miriel for [livejournal.com profile] femgenficathon. The fic is here if you're interested.

Read more... )
Another day, more articles about calc-alkaline magmatism. Also writing about Elves in the Age of Sail for reasons I do not quite understand, especially because it is rapidly heading towards Finduilas/Celebrimbor.

Anyhow:

CORONATE, Merlin, no spoilers - Arthur's new bodyguards are determined to get him to his coronation one way or another. Arthur has other ideas.


Arthur peers at the ground. A single, bulbous globe looks back, and if the contraption of metal and glass could express any emotion, he's sure it would be looking exasperated. The thing lifts its arm-like prongs, shifting the royal robes slightly towards him, a clear invitation. Arthur declines to acknowledge it, and he seems to have the upper hand at present.

His new bodyguards move through wood, crowds and even stone with little to no trouble. He has seen them work around the issue of stairs, after a moment's consideration.

They have not yet, however, solved the issue of trees. Or rather, the issue of the tree that contains the heir to the throne and so cannot be disintergrated like all other problems (and trees. If they ever grow tired of being bodyguards, clearing forest ought to be their next job of choice.)

'CORONATE,' the thing intones, and yes, that's definitely a note of exasperation in its grating voice.

'The ceremony isn't for another three hours,' Arthur points out. 'The robes would get all crushed and messy if I put them on now.'

'CORONATE,' it repeats.

'You are being tiresome,' says Arthur in his haughtiest voice.

'CORONATE,' says his bodyguard, with a lingering flavour of right back at you, mateSire.

'I can see that there's no point in continuing this discussion until you decide to be reasonable,' Arthur says, and reaches for the next branch.

He can hear the Dalek grumbling 'CORONATE' to itself as he climbs, and he wonders how long they can live off leaves, rain and the birds that Merlin convinces to land in their tree.
Busy days; having recovered from some sort of flu bug and having finally got past a fortnight that included a stolen laptop, my mother's aunt dying and an oven door that decided it wanted to become stuck halfway open, I find myself trying to start and finish a lit review and begin the process of cutting my rock samples and battling winter. I am knee-deep in articles right now and trying to convince myself that Fimbulwinter is not upon us quite just yet even though we only reached 11 degrees today (that's 11 degrees celsius, and northern hemisphereans, feel free to laugh at my quaint ideas about cold. I do the same when there's mass panic about a 35-degree heatwave.)

I have also finished my genderflipped Silmarillion casting that I started with [livejournal.com profile] minviendha  however many weeks ago, covering the House of Finwe and the main Sindar players. And that will be all. Slightly incestuous with my regular Silm ladies casting which I will make one day, but it can't be helped.

So I realised that I had a few ficlets on various computers and USBs that I never actually posted here, and you'll be seeing them this week. Without further ado:


Geology Rocks - Merlin season 1, no spoilers - In which the Merlin crew are going on a field trip. [livejournal.com profile] agenttrojie  mentioned the idea and I ran with it.


It's bloody typical, Arthur thinks, that it would rain all day every day on the one field trip he forgot to pack his raincoat. He's remembered why all the professors speak about rain as a geologist's worst enemy: everything is slippery, he can't see a damn thing, the outcrop is getting soaked as fast as he can hammer away at it and the expensive waterproof notebooks are living up to their claims, except that he can't write on them in pencil when they're wet and the ink from his pen is running all over the page. He's soaked to the skin, again. He'll have moss growing on him by the time they go home at this rate.

Even more unfair is that he's the only one getting soaked. His father and Morgana are looking at an anticline hinge on the other side of the hill and no raindrop would dare fall on them in case Uther vaporised it with his eyes. Gwen is ridiculously sensible so of course she's prepared, although from the way she's going on about acclaps in the succession she probably wouldn't notice if it started snowing. Lance is tagging along with her although if he's interested in structural he should be up with Uther and Morgana, and the bastard has some secret way of keeping his notes perfectly dry. Bloody scholarship students. And Gaius doesn't even seem to notice the rain because he's looking at the succession with a dreamy expression, although knowing Gaius he's equally likely to be wondering what's for dinner.

So that leaves Arthur getting soggier and soggier and not having anyone to yell at about it, when Merlin reappears around the curve of the outcrop. 'Bit wet, isn't it?' he says cheerfully, and then 'God, you look like a drowned rat.'

'I've noticed,' Arthur growls.

'I've found some forams in the mudstone up above the volc stuff,' says Merlin in the tone of someone revealing an amazing secret. Arthur's tempted, but this is normally the point when Uther looms over his shoulder and manages to convey through body language alone that only hopeless reprobates study fossils, no matter what Jurassic Park told him when he was eight. Then Merlin says the magic words.

'They're under an overhang.'

Arthur turns around and checks very carefully for Uther being behind him, but his father is still on the other side of the hill. 'Lead the way,' he says, and Merlin grins.

 

I offered to write [livejournal.com profile] minviendha more of this, and ended up doing nothing that she requested.

Title: Growing Up Finwean - The Movie Night
Fandom: The Silmarillion, in our cracky pocket universe
Warnings: A lot of swearing and some references to drug use
Summary: In which a bad reaction leads to an overreaction.
Notes: Celegorm's point of view this time, hence the swearing. Once again names are switching left right and centre. So:
Celegorm - Cleeg, Tyelkormo
Maedhros - Mae, Maitimo
Aredhel - Ar, Irisse
Caranthir - Cara, Karnistir
Galadriel - Gal, Artanis

Oh you got me shakin', oh you got me high )
Meme that I should be able to answer over the weekend:

Ask me fandom-related questions in the comments. They can be fandom specific, general, or about fandom/lj stuff/fic writing/etc. in general. Questions can be as wacky as you want. Ask me about tv shows, characters, fanfic in general, fandom issues/meta, anything about any of my stories specifically. Whatever you want.


Ask me things please? I am having a good time with the rocks but they are, well, very rocky and I would like to think about something else. Indulge me, flist!
I finally posted it, Lise! Hope you've finished the college essays of doom by now.

This is all [livejournal.com profile] metafandom 's fault. No, really.

SOMEONE ON METAFANDOM: *calls Tolkien-style Elves "prissy"*
[livejournal.com profile] minviendha: *makes a post expressing extreme confusion about how any Tolkien elf could be prissy*
EL: Certain Feanorians think Fingon is prissy. Fingon is just trying to salvage what's left of our family's good name, unlike some people who seem to revel in sinking it even further into the mud. He's not unlike GUC!Edward in that respect, albeit with less obsession about cleaning products.

And it all went downhill from there.


Title: Growing Up Finwean
Fandom: The Silmarillion (or our version of it, anyway. Warning: vast amounts of fanon ahead.)
Rating: R for Celegorm swearing and Caranthir's questionable taste in music.
Pairings: background Aredhel/Celegorm
Characters: Fingon-centric + Maedhros, Galadriel, Aredhel, Celegorm, Caranthir
Word count: ~2800
AN: Modern AU based, of course, on the amazing, the spectacular Growing Up Cullen, and you should read that first because a) it is hilarious and the best thing to come out of the Twilight fandom, and b) you may not understand much of what is going on here unless you know the source material. Regarding the names: completely my fanon, but I'm going on the idea that Fingon addresses people he likes by their Quenya names, and those he doesn't like so much by their Sindarin versions. So this is why there is Maitimo and Caranthir in the same fic.
Summary: Vague threats of violence, cleaning bathrooms, conversations about insects, cleaning, tea with a stressed step-cousin, more cleaning, and interrupted bedtime reading. It's a typical day in Fingon's life.

---

Growing Up Finwean )
Last fic written for [livejournal.com profile] sharp_teeth .

Title: and six billion minds are as mind of one
Fandom: Star Trek AOS, contains spoilers
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Word count: ~1000
AN: Written for the prompt: Vulcan souls do not fade gently. The title is a riff on New Year's Chimes, which deserves a happier fic. Also, black holes are creepy.

--

Vulcan souls do not fade gently. )
Another one written for [livejournal.com profile] sharp_teeth . The person who posted the prompt probably expected cannibalism; I took it in a different direction.

Title: What You Eat, You Are
Fandom: Firefly (post-BDM)
Rating: R for pica, character death, very minor bloodplay. (Pica: a medical disorder characterized by an appetite for substances largely non-nutritive (e.g. metal (coins, etc), clay, coal, soil, feces, chalk, paper, soap, mucus, ash, gum, etc. ...a specific appetite caused by mineral deficiency in many cases, in females named typically iron deficiency.)
Characters: Kaylee POV + ensemble
Word count: ~2800
Summary: It's cold out in the black. Sometimes you get lonely. Sometimes.. you just get awful hungry.

---

What You Eat, You Are )
Okay, so I could make a post about what a lovely day I had yesterday and how today was nice too, but I need the pictures I took to tell that properly and my camera is upstairs and I have eaten my own body weight in rice vermicelli and lemongrass beef and all manner of delicious Vietnamese foods, so I'm not inclined towards moving right now. So my USB is within reach and I have a backlog of fics to post from various comment-ficathons (dangerously enabling!) and if this isn't friday night crackfic I do not know what is.

I have written horror-themed fic for The Magic School Bus. [livejournal.com profile] sharp_teeth  is a dangerous place.

But! In the interest of preserving it for posterity and possible blackmail, and in the grand tradition of tacking a wrecking-ball to my own childhood and others', here it is.


Title: On The Ice
Fandom: The Magic School Bus
Rating: R for swearing, mentions of children meeting horribly vague fates, a couple of children meeting horribly specific fates, Miss Frizzle being unsettling
Characters: Arnold's POV plus ensemble
Word count: ~4000
Summary: For the [livejournal.com profile] sharp_teeth  prompt: They are on a field trip learning about the tundra when it all goes horribly wrong.

On The Ice )
Meme: Post a snippet of all the WIPs you can find on your computer.

Organised by fandom, varies between serious and utter crack.


Silmarillion )




Merlin )



Star Trek )


So in conclusion, I have a lot of things to be working on, and so I'll be back to haunting comment fic fests for a while.
Inspired by a fic [livejournal.com profile] hellokatzchen  wrote for the Awesomely Untranslatable fic fest (still running! Go check it out!) and how we concluded that Jim loves extreme sports that involve jumping off high places (or any extreme sport, really) and that Bones really, really doesn't.


Title: Out Of Your Comfort Zone
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Rating: PG
Word count: ~3700
Characters: Kirk, McCoy (eventual Kirk/McCoy)
Summary:  Fifteen extreme sports that Kirk tried to get McCoy to do, and one McCoy picked for himself.


‘Come on, Bones, where’s your sense of l’appel du vide?’ )
Title: We're On A Boat
Fandom: Silmarillion
Summary: Irisse and Artanis are going sailing. Inspired by/continuation of [livejournal.com profile] minviendha's fic Seasick, and apparently I have missed another bit of fanon, this one about Celegorm being no good with boats.


HEY VANYAR CAN YOU SEE MEEEEEEEEE )
Diamonds are behaving themselves tonight. I've done the first draft of my essay and it's only 1025 words over the limit. I think this is a personal best!

Also, someone get rid of this Nu!Trek bunny for me or help me give it a plot, I only have this line for it:

'Jim, STDs are not creatures in an ancient children's game. Your aim should not be to catch 'em all.'

Yes, that's Bones saying it. He is my favourite.
Start your year with a zombie AU! Following on from The Brainmarillion: Brainulindale, I bring information about all our favourite flesh-eating Powers of Arghda.

Title: The Brainmarillion: Valarghquenta

Rating: Z for zombies

Disclaimer: All characters, places and plots are Tolkien's, I merely mangle - although if he rises from the grave to feast on my flesh in revenge for this, that just proves it all, doesn't it?

-------

Compiler's note: these tales have been translated from Quenyargh and Sindarghrin into the Common Moaning. In all cases the syllable 'argh' is pronounced as a long, guttural moan and should not be confused with the 'arrrr' in tales of pirates, despite the similar spellings.

--------

The Great among the Brainur the Elves name the Valargh, the Powers of Arghda )
Um. *shuffles feet* *points incriminating finger* Read this fanficrants post! It's all their fault!

Title: The Brainmarillion: Brainulindale
Rating: Z for zombies
Disclaimer: All characters, places and plots are Tolkien's, I merely mangle - although if he rises from the grave to feast on my flesh in revenge for this, that just proves it all, doesn't it?

There was Arghru, the One, who in Arghda is called Iluvatargh... )
The bit in italics is a direct quote from Ainulindale. More coming soon...

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