Most of this journal is open, and likely to remain so. Icons, pictures, and (fan)fiction are accessible without an lj account, let alone having to friend me (not that you'd want to; I bite.)

Seeing as that's so, then, everything personal and/or original is kept under lock and key, and likely to remain so. My rl friends, those who aren't also on my f-list, are aware of the existence of this journal, and I'd rather they not read a bitch post without context, y'know, as one does. Given that I bitch frequently, at some length and with a fair bit of (often illogical) vitriol, I think this only reasonable. If you don't, well, that's your problem, innit?

I've also managed to spawn a number of secondary accounts, for various purposes, so, just to keep it all together, the person known as toujours_nigel on this journal also uses hermioneregis, scenes_of_lives, mrswblack, alice_prewett, m_bagnold, and still_bright as handles in various other nooks and corners of livejournal .

Anything more you have to read this journal to find out. Ta, all.

( Dear Yuletide Author, )


***

Feel free to write something entirely different if you’d rather, of course, these are just off the top of my head, (as is everything in the requests themselves) and do not in any way indicate that I must have a story along these lines. I’ll appreciate anything you write. Thank you.

So I'm reading Clare McManus' Women on the Renaissance Stage: Anna of Denmark and Female Masquing in the Stuart Court (1590-1619) and it is indisputably freaking awesome.

It is, however, fucking ever so subtly with my brain. See, I have a Ren Drama (excluding Shakespeare) course, and a Macbeth course, and as obvious, one of the main themes (in Macbeth, The Maid's Tragedy, The Duchhess of Malfi, The Changeling) is the depiction of aristocratic women, their honour, and how it is entangled with family status, marriage, sexual policies, etc, etc, ad infinitum, ad nauseum. Women must not be seen in less than yards of brocade and perfect hair, woman as fortress, blahblahblah.

And then there's this. And slightly-naked (as in, yards of brocade/silk/velvet/taffeta/what-have-you, but nearly-bare breasts) depictions, even of Anna of Denmark herself, who was pregnant at the time of the Masque of Blackness (costume for which is the link above), in which she performed.

So, yes, slightly mind-fucked, in the entirely good way. Because even these depictions don't actually hand agency over to the women, except, y'know, when they do, seeing as Anna planned and instigated at least some of these masques (she performed in six) herself.

because i'm in a silly mood

My gran is going to be admitted to the hospital tomorrow. Her arm broke off just below the shoulder joint, and shifted. Hence, operation on Saturday.

In other news, I have a test tomorrow, and am accordingly reading beatonna's comics.

And, in a repeat, you guys, this is my current list of people who want Yule drabbles: kiskafalair (Andromeda/Aphrodite), ceredwensirius (Sirius, Hermione, sledding) applegnat (Kaminey), cutthroatpixie (Mythology, sunshine) and noneedofcrepe for whom I have no prompt.

ceredwensirius and applegnat should please give me their addresses, yes? And if anyone else wants a card, please prompt?

Courtesy cutthroatpixie :

1. Comment on this post if you want to.
2. On request, I will give you a letter.
3. Think of 5 fictional characters whose names begin with that letter.
4. Post their names and your comments on these characters in your LJ.

( meem )

She gave me the letter 'D'.

Well, that or a strange unibrowed D:)-emoticon, but well.

So. Yuletide. *headdesks*

This. Should be interesting.

This is my first post. I'd thought I'd got rid of this story in its entirety (it's all at scenes_of_lives) but apparently not. Anyway, I'd noticed mid-October that I was almost at the one year mark, but, well, I then evidently forgot. Happy Birthday, my lj. Here, have a cake icon. *pets lj*

This has been ever so much more successful than either of my earlier attempts, bheglu and toujourspur1 . I started posting on lj because, well, something rather stupidly nasty had just happened to me, and my blog on Blogger felt like too much of a fishbowl. The people reading my posts were my friends (I use the term in its looest possible sense) from uni, and, well, I have privacy issues. This is the last entry there, everything even remotely personal on that blog has been stripped off; I was really really murderously angry at the point.

Anyhow, let's not rehash all that rubbish. My point is, this has been a great ride, y'all. You have all been brilliant, and twistedly evil, and I'm having a hell lotta fun. I've made some grand friends, found a lot of people to fangirl (the overlap is significant), and the best reading-material a girl could ask for.

A special note of thanks to allinplaid, which resurrected my love of Potter when I'd thought it dead and buried, and maryrenaultfics, which gave my Alexander-fannishness sanctuary from the (often atrocious) movie-verse stories on ff.net. If I'm less active now than I have been at times, (and I am), I apologise to all of you, and I hope to be able to participate more fully come January.

That's about it, for now. Thank you. You girls have been great.

So, because I am clearly insane, I was wondering, I really like the thing noneedofcrepe does, of sending out cards, but I really cannot draw at all. But I can (mostly) write.

So, I could write out, in longhand (my handwriting is legible, promise) a drabble (100-200 words) of your choosing, and mail you them. If anyone wants one?

Of course, likely I'm spouting rubbish, but, yeah, thought I'd offer.

PM if you want your addy unknown to other commenters.

***

ETA: My bigger fandoms are Harry Potter, Renault's Alexandriad, most of Graeco-Roman mythology, so that's likely how I know y'all. However, long as the source is well-known (by which I mean wiki and/or youtube will let me get a basic grasp, if I don't already have it) I'm up for whatever you choose. Yes, ceredwensirius , I am looking directly at you. kiskafalair and dearlyderanged , no walruses. I mean it.

dude. there is in existence an actual Brandywine River?! O_o

if you're not a Tolkien fan,

(info stolen off wiki, in both cases. the things you find out, man.)

So, according to enigel 's Spreadsheet, two people requested Kaminey (me and applegnat ) and four offered it. How interesting, and giving of hope.

Of my other (requested) fandoms, The Alexandriad has 7 requests and 17 offers, Mists of Avalon has 6 requests and 20 offers, and Masters of Rome has 2 requests and 5 offers.

ETA: Run, don't walk, to this story by eruthros. u can haz LOLcats.

ahahaha. hahaaaaa.

"In the play MacBeth and Lady MacBeth had a desire to be king and queen of Scotland. At the time they didn't consider the tool it would take on their lives because their heads were full of greed."

alrighty, then

i particularly love Shumon's 'wtf is wrong with that boy' expression.

and, aw, charlie hadn't quite accepted that mikhail was dead. tch.

So clearly you guys are awesome. ithiliana just left me three separate rambly comments in response to this post, and applegnat mailed me. And then there's my wife, who's clearly a different kind of crazy.

***

me: :(
dearlyderanged : awww.
ki hoyechhe?
snugs
me: dunno.
Gawd.
Just.
speak with me?
dearlyderanged : vokay.
http://icanhascheezburger.com/.
you can has kitties?
me: kitties are good
dearlyderanged : indeed they are.
***
http://icanhascheezburger.files.wordpress.com/2009/10/funny-pictures-goat-gives-peace-sign.jpg.
write drabble.
on that
me: i sawww.
what?
No.
O_o.
doood
dearlyderanged : yes.
think animal farm
me: i.
oh come on.
dearlyderanged : no.
i dare you. you sez u has no lines.
me: ohgood god woman.
i said that was a BAD thing
dearlyderanged : goat-fic.
i wants it.
hippie goat fic.
alternate world.
talking animals.
me: you're a strange sort of wife, my love
dearlyderanged : or maybe just from the pov of someone who's high.
frat boy, why not?
me: i. was thinking that, actually
dearlyderanged : now you're doomed.
goat-fic.
heee
me: i like the mind-meld, but why always on such strange topics?
dearlyderanged : because such is the method of mind-meldery.
mind-melding on everyday stuff is boring.
and hardly justifiable as mind-meldery at all.
me: indeed.
for the record, baby girl, i'm doing this under protest.
dearlyderanged : of course you are.
pets

***

( me: i hate you. )

So, um. this. requires explanation. So, yeah, this is me and applegnat last evening.

me: i want to write gender-flip

applegnat : good

me: except i'd land up without a story to write.

applegnat : who'd be flipping?

me: idk. if i flip charlie, he'll have no access to Mikhail. if i flip Mikhail charlie'd be beaten up and stuffed into a trunk somewhere. mikhail flipped (as a friend told me when i whined at her) is basically sweety.

applegnat : hmm. he's a good deal less -- goal-oriented.

me: yeah and more attached to his brothers but, i mean

applegnat : i mean, you can bet that if sweety were flogging coke worth 10 crores she'd have got it done in the time it took for bhope to eat a vada pav

me: the whole beloved baby girl of crime family deal

applegnat : yeah, but at least she hasn't been coddled into – death or fuifide, as mikhail would say. LOL

me: yeah

applegnat : girl charlie might be interesting

me: doesn't it cut down on the very physically intimidating thing, though

applegnat : look the basic problem is that a girl of charlie's social aptitude and economic status wouldn't be doing charlie's work. as a rule.

me: yeah

applegnat : you can't be a controller, even if you can be a don. i don't want to enforce the sterotype that girls with charlie's social aptitude and economic handicaps would be pulling tricks if they were into crime. quite realistically, though, it's difficult for them to do anything else.

me: no, i know. i thought, and then i thought, well, prostitute. and then i stopped wanting to write that

applegnat : well, it's entirely possible that mikhail happens to be charlie's only john

me: because i like happy!Charlie. um. how periclean of him. but what a bad Aphasia she'd make (by which I meant Aspasia, but eh)

applegnat : besides, happiness and prostitution aren't mutually exclusive - not in the least trying to diminish the horrors of sex work etc

me: no, i guess, but, thing is i can't think of Mikhail as idk, caring enough?

applegnat : aw, young men are generally assholes. but i'm sure he's capable of affection, even concern. in an AU you can explore those avenues.

*** *** ***

( this, therefore, is me, exploring those avenues )

Lillian Ferris sat on her unmade bed and watched her boyfriend watch her. “You’re moving?” he asked, and she hated herself for flinching at his voice.

“Yeah,” she said, watching his hands on the poster for The Passion of the Christ—their play, and that’s them on it, Christ and Magdalene, and all it had been was that, nothing more. “Playtime’s over.”

“It is,” he assented, rolled it up and slipped it into the gaping mouth of her hold-all. “And you’re off to Johannesburg.”

“Yeah.” You haven’t asked me to stay. “You?”

“Back to the grind,” he smiled. He always smiled—the last three months were a series of his smiles, and none less than ruthless or more than kind. “But this was fun.”

Fun. “Yeah.” Or something. “I’m pregnant,” she volunteered, like he didn’t already know.

 “I know,” he smiled, like he’d never forget the sudden hunger for him she’d had, and how easily she’d thrown away all the caution—they’d been so careful, till then—because she’d wanted him. “You’ll be a great mother.” Like a promise, like he knew.

“You’ll come see me?” she asked, voice small and self-hating. “Sam?”

“Both of you,” he said, and smiled.

I have realised that one piece of fic that I would love to read, but cannot possibly write, is a cross-over of sorts between Maurice and The Charioteer. Not cross-over slash (given, by 1940, Maurice would be, um, 52?), but a story, yes, please. Any story.

Anyone?

For applegnat .

( Mikhail-Shumon/OFC, 1997 )


*** *** ***


( Sweety-Mikhail, 2009 )

“If you would excuse me,” she said, took a small box from her bag, “this might sound bizarre, but I’ve got to take out my contacts. I’ve had them in for twelve hours already, and they tend to get irritating, after a point.” 

You nod assent—what can you possibly say, after all “Are they cosmetic?” Her eyes are too green, somehow, and you’ve been wondering. 

“Oh no, she says, takes her hand from her eyes, closes them as she closes the box. “I’m quite blind without them,” she laughs, and you stare, eyes wide, at her blank white eyes.