wordwitch: Woman in a shift, reading on a couch (Huh)
A great deal of gratitude is due to Ladyholder, who encouraged me to write this, and to Callie Sullivan, who wrote the transcript from which I was working.

Thank you both.
Note: This is as far as I know to go. Ideas will be gratefully accepted.

More of an attempt to work some things out in my head. Warnings for potentially triggering stuff, and choppy writing. And *Outcast*. )

And now I need to know: how do I finish off this monster? Ideas? Anyone? Bueller?
wordwitch: Woman in a shift, reading on a couch (Date)
Cesperanza / Speranza / Francesca has always written with this background knowing of queerness; how it exists as community, the adjustments and compromises that one makes, and those one refuses to make. How an individual exists in isolation, and how he exists in a shadowed society.

Her newest work, Friendly, takes this background and makes it foreground. And it is all done with body-language: who may talk to whom, and about what; who is prevented from talking, and why; and how such barriers may be overcome.

I highly, highly recommend it. Guy-warning: there is a public blowjob, but you can skip past that if you are very, very careful.
wordwitch: Woman in a shift, reading on a couch (Default)
So I got through the bit about the will. My gratitude to [livejournal.com profile] batdina and [livejournal.com profile] laureth, as well as an instructor in family law at my school, for their help and suggestions. (Believe me: that was a scene I did not want to write! I was grateful to avoid it.)

The thing as a whole may be seen here: http://wordwitch.insanejournal.com/tag/hell+of+a+home

Not too much more now.
wordwitch: Woman in a shift, reading on a couch (Default)
Sardonicsmiley is, as I have said before, a frightening and excellent author. So I will tell you:

There is no Sex. In fact, there is no Romance.
Rodney - goes. Permanently.
John abandons Atlantis.
There is Background of Families.

And you absolutely must read the story right away!!!

It is called The Other Side of Grace, and you will need a hanky or tissue.


That is all.
wordwitch: Woman in a shift, reading on a couch (Huh)
A great deal of gratitude is due to Ladyholder, who encouraged me to write this, and to Callie Sullivan, who wrote the transcript from which I was working.

Thank you both.
More of an attempt to work some things out in my head. Warnings for potentially triggering stuff, and choppy writing. And *Outcast*. )
wordwitch: Woman in a shift, reading on a couch (Default)
Sardonicsmiley is an author of skill, depth, and terror, like unto Holly Lisle, and needing to be taken with the same kind of caution.

If she tells you a thing "squicked her out," you may be certain to need to keep your squeeze ball, your trash can, your tissues handy. You may also be certain that she has handled it with skill in the plot, the characters, the wordcraft, and the pacing. It will be worth your reading.

Such a story is her Praying Won't Do You No Good, written for Kink Bingo #14, Bondage (immobility). Set in Stargate: Atlantis, it examines the question of what it would be like if a Chief Medical Officer had the moral capacity and the self-delusion of Lois McMaster Bujold's Sergeant Bothari. It is written in the tight Point of View, with an internal monologue that chills the spine.

In fact, I avoided it for some time, because I feared nightmares. But I finally took it up, because - well, it's Sardonicsmiley! And I read the comments.

And then I did a little bit of self-therapy, examining what would happen if the Chief Military Officer found out about the situation, as comment-fic. If you have the strength to read Praying Won't ..., then go ahead and read The Conversation, a comment-fic by yours truly. ETA Alas: when the lady took down her journal, that and other commentfics went with it. I apologize for the loss.
wordwitch: Woman in a shift, reading on a couch (Default)
A great deal of gratitude is due to [insanejournal.com profile] ladyholder, who encouraged me to write this, and to Callie Sullivan, who wrote the transcript from which I am working.

Thank you both.
More of an attempt to work some things out in my head. Warnings for potentially triggering stuff, and choppy writing. And *Outcast*. )
Chapter 11
wordwitch: Woman in a shift, reading on a couch (Huh)
A great deal of gratitude is due to [insanejournal.com profile] ladyholder, who encouraged me to write this, and to Callie Sullivan, who wrote the transcript from which I am working.

Thank you both.
More of an attempt to work some things out in my head. Warnings for potentially triggering stuff, and choppy writing. And *Outcast*. )
Part 10
wordwitch: Woman in a shift, reading on a couch (Huh)
Author’s Note: in the question of which is the elder, I went by the actors’ relative birth dates.

A great deal of gratitude is due to [insanejournal.com profile] ladyholder, who encouraged me to write this, and to Callie Sullivan, who wrote the transcript from which I am working.

Thank you both.
More of an attempt to work some things out in my head. Warnings for potentially triggering stuff, and choppy writing. And *Outcast*. )
Part 9
wordwitch: Woman in a shift, reading on a couch (Huh)
Author's note: A great deal of gratitude is due to [insanejournal.com profile] ladyholder, who encouraged me to write this, and to Callie Sullivan, who wrote the transcript from which I am working. Thank you both.

ETA: This section, and the previous section 7, have been combined. You may wish to re-read.

Still more of an attempt to work some things out in my head. Warnings for all kinds of nasty-ass stuff, and choppy writing. And *Outcast*. In fact, dialog taken directly from there, and in direct point of fact, you'd probably better have watched it to understand what's going on. )
wordwitch: Huh ... (Huh ...)
In honor of [livejournal.com profile] ladyholder's request, I give you Hell of a Home You've Got There, a work in progress set during, and great chunks of dialog carefully taken from, Outcast.

Read at your own peril.
wordwitch: Woman in a shift, reading on a couch (Huh)
Author's note: A great deal of gratitude is due to [insanejournal.com profile] ladyholder, who encouraged me to write this, and to Callie Sullivan, who wrote the transcript from which I am working.

Thank you both.
Still more of an attempt to work some things out in my head. Warnings for all kinds of nasty-ass stuff, and choppy writing. And *Outcast*. In fact, dialog taken directly from there, last one and this one both. )
wordwitch: Woman in a shift, reading on a couch (Huh)
Author's note: A great deal of gratitude is due to [insanejournal.com profile] ladyholder, who encouraged me to write this, and to Callie Sullivan, who wrote the transcript from which I am working.

Thank you both.
Still more of an attempt to work some things out in my head. Warnings for all kinds of nasty-ass stuff, and choppy writing. And *Outcast*. )
wordwitch: Woman in a shift, reading on a couch (Huh)
Author's note: A great deal of gratitude is due to [insanejournal.com profile] ladyholder, who encouraged me to write this, and to Callie Sullivan, who wrote the transcript from which I am working.

Thank you both.
Still more of an attempt to work some things out in my head. Warnings for all kinds of nasty-ass stuff, and choppy writing. And *Outcast*. )
wordwitch: Woman in a shift, reading on a couch (Default)
ETA: WARNING
It was just abruptly borne in on me that a warning for personal history of child-molestation needs to be here.

For those who have still not seen the SG:A episode *Outcast*. )
wordwitch: Woman in a shift, reading on a couch (Date)
You must all immediately go and read this bit of unfinished wonderfulness:

http://www.glitterati.talkoncorners.net/log/2008/01/14/i-blame-you-serial-karma-and-lyra-sena-i-blame-you/

And then you must tell her to finish it. At book length. Maybe three or four volumes, I dunno. Anything that leads with the following scene must be rewarded:
Chapter 1: Wherein Our Hero Is Rudely Awakened

John was only half-into his breeches when Samantha burst into his room, red-faced and furious and her hair in wild disarray, throwing down a bouquet of orange roses and shouting, “John, he’s done it again! The third year in a row!”

Trying to pull himself off of the floor, where he’d fallen with a yelp of horror, pulling all the sheets and blankets off of the bed and around him to protect his limited dignity, John said, “Sam, for God’s sake!”

“Oh, John, honestly,” she sighed at him, settling herself on the edge of his bed. “You’re practically my brother.”

“Yes,” he shot back, struggling to his feet and still wrapped entirely in bedclothes, “which makes this delightful moment wrong and incestuous.” He pointed at the wide-open door of his bedchamber. “Now, if you’ll humor me and feign being a young woman of good breeding.”

Sam ignored him. “Two dozen hideous orange roses,” she mourned, staring down at the petals.

“Of course,” John said through gritted teeth. “And this shall be the third year you’ve stormed into my room wailing about it as well.”

“We must find him some other poor woman to marry, John,” Sam decided, looking grim. “It’ll be too cruel, really, for us to press some girl onto him, but his insistence on courting me can no longer be endured.” She looked thoughtful. “Perhaps Miss Brown. She’s quiet, and she seems to entertain thoughts that people are kinder than they truly are.”

Beneath the sheets, John tried to dress himself as well as possible, ducking his head underneath a blanket to align the row of buttons on his breeches, thinking vile, ungentlemanly thoughts toward his cousin. Since they were children they’d played together and she’d always been a trial: too smart and too stubborn. John half-wished she’d just marry whichever poor bastard was pining after her so wretchedly so she’d move out of the house and stop barging in on him while he was half nude.

“Given your history of suffering indignities I’d think you’d understand why I’m so upset about this one,” John grumbled, finally emerging from the covers and tugging his shirt and trousers back in good order.

Samantha gave him a considering look. “You are perfectly aware I barely see you as a man, John.”

“Thank you,” he replied, dry as flint, hauling all the covers back onto the feather mattress. “Now—who is the unfortunate gentleman who continues to struggle for your affections all these years?”

Really. So. Much. Love.

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