fenella: (yukon)
Uh, first off: 484 words about Joren HERE!. And now that's done with:

Postcards From New Hope
(Or How to Grow a Woman from the Ground)

Part Seven )

Part One Part Two Part Three
Part Four Part Five Part Six
fenella: (Default)
Dear Diary: Writing is not like riding a bicycle. Eugh, eugh, eugh. Maybe I'll get it right next time. Xoxo Fenella.

Postcards From New Hope
(Or How to Grow a Woman from the Ground)

Part Six )

Part One Part Two Part Three
Part Four Part Five... Part Seven
fenella: (Default)
Postcards From New Hope
(Or How to Grow a Woman from the Ground)

Part Five )

Part One Part Two Part Three
Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven
fenella: (the real show is backstage)
I don't know, this might change. But...

Postcards From New Hope
(Or How to Grow a Woman from the Ground)

Part Four )

Part One Part Two Part Three ... and Part Five Part Six Part Seven
fenella: (antique)
Postcards from New Hope
(Or How To Grow a Woman From the Ground)

Part Three )

Part One Part Two...Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven

Look Up.

Jan. 10th, 2009 04:33 pm
fenella: (antique)
Postcards From New Hope
(Or How to Grow a Woman from the Ground)

Part Deux )

Part One can be found here or if you are wondering... Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven
fenella: (antique)
Tamora Pierce fic written for Piercefic08. This is Part I of quite possibly many. And mostly, this is to get me writing again... so there.

Postcards from New Hope
(or How to Grow a Woman from the Ground)

Part One )

Part Two Part Three
Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven


Jun. 20th, 2008 08:02 pm
fenella: (the real show is backstage)
I've decided that the problem with writing Ozorne isn't that he's Ozorne, it's that he wants to be a ghost. As in, refusing to participate in any way, shape or form that isn't incorporeal. It's not that I have anything against ghosts; I love ghosts. Ghost stories are one of my favourite things ever. Especially if a mysterious East Coast ship (rum runners!) is involved. Embarrassingly, I am one of those people that loves to go on haunted walks of the cities that I visit.

See, I attended camp for a number of summers in my teens (largely music related, though none of them properly qualify me to used the phrase 'This one time, at band camp...') and given the number of times I had great roommates, the last summer before university was probably what they call inevitable. Eight girls between thirteen and sixteen, four bunkbeds, three bagpipers (one from New Jersey, one with the emotional maturity of a three year old), two fiddlers, one highland dancer, one harpist, one fire spinner. A profound lack of adult supervision, an obscene amount of unscheduled time (say, uh, nineteen of the twenty-four hours in a day).

The point was, we had an uninvited ninth roommate. A ghost that would scream in the middle of the night. (Coincidentally, it made its first appearance following our traditional graveyard walk. Spooky.) Eight bored girls, two Wiccans, twenty pounds of salt and some serious chanting later (I kid you not) we found ourselves the proud guardians of a ouija board.

The screaming was uncanny; three nights in a row, after everyone had drifted of to sleep in the early hours of the morning, a high, wailing noise came from the empty space between our beds. This was often followed by sobbing. By the time that all of us were awake enough to stumble out of bed and towards the light switch, the screaming had stopped. According to Ouija, Kat the Wiccan from New Jersey told us with great relish, the spirit was the ghost of a young girl.

Kat the Crazy NJ girl: No matter, with my l33t ghost buster skills, I will raise protection shields. She will interrupt our sleep no more.
Wide-eyed Wiccan: Oooh! How can I help?
Kat the CNJG: With the power of your mind.
Highland Dancer: Is... is it safe?
Kat the CNJG: *Pouring Salt* Yes. Just make sure no one enters leaves the room until they've been lowered in the morning.
Seven Girls: *huddled in sleeping bags* ...Why? What will happen?
Lights: *flicker*
Door: *bursts open*
Eight Girls: *scream*
House Mother: What in the name A. WR. MacKenzie are you girls up to?
Eight Girls: *shifty eyes*
House Mother: Are you hiding a boy in here?
Eight Girls: *silence of guilty solidarity*
Highland Dancer: Lindaaaaaa, I don't want you to die!
House Mother: Why would I... wait, what?
Kat the CNJG: *discreet cough*

For the remainder of the two weeks, we totally and utterly convinced that House Mother would meet an untimely end. Ouija assured us that there would be retribution. Who were we to doubt a piece of paper with "Yes", "No" and letters 'A' through 'Z' scrawled in magic marker?

Well, suffice to say House Mother is alive and well. And to this day, despite not knowing whom, or what was causing the screaming, I don't believe in ghosts. So for the sake of Ozorne, make me believe. I want to hear your ghost stories! I am sure they are far less lame than mine! Share, share, share. I don't want to sleep for a week!
fenella: (cute!)
So I'm at home, studying for an exam that is two weeks away, applying to jobs that I will not get and looking for next year's housing. "What does this matter to me?" I hear you ask. Well, if you haven't already noticed from my million comments on your recent posts, I am bored and procrastinating. So here's the deal:

Comment on this post with any story prompt/pairing/random idea that you would like written and I will write 1000 words of fic on said topic. You can be as creative or as lame as you want, I promise to write them all, so long as they are in a fandom of which I am vaguely familiar.

Sitting at attention, blades buried, THAT MEANS YOU THREE SEAT, ready and... ROW!

Uh. Crack!

Mar. 23rd, 2008 06:30 pm
fenella: (Default)
So I wasn't kidding about the fic but this one is purely Imogen's fault (for some reason, Imogen, your tag at my journal is "imo the dragon tamer". I'm sure it made sense at one time!). An AU where Joren is alive and Scanrans are misunderstood. Really they're just a bunch of sensitive ice sculptors who want to sit around and talk about ice fishing! This bit here is mainly just the set up of the story but there WILL be Scanrans. I am sure of it. Just give me two days to get through the class - rehearsal - midterm - rehearsal - concert slaving, ticket selling - harp moving - lobby concert - masterclass - concert - harp moving.

In the meantime, here is Vania and the Scanrans (Part I) and some pictures of the lot, for your viewing pleasure. )
fenella: (sheep in a box)
"You know what's fun?" I asked myself.

"Self," I said. "Drabbles are fun."

"Oh, yes, okay," I answered. "But where can I find such a thing? Why would I write such a thing? How could I even begin such a thing?"

Lucky for me, my crazy sisters - [livejournal.com profile] ochre54 and [livejournal.com profile] imelford - over at [livejournal.com profile] team_fen are hosting a drabblathon. And since it would be rude of me to not participate when they live to harass, mock, entertain, and occasionaly humour me, I wrote a small something. Because as Imogen tells me, Kel/Lerant is the new black. And I can't resist writing black.

"You have such good ideas," I told myself.

"Oh, I try," I said, and smiled back modestly.

Y'all should go check out Sally and Imo's drabbles (there's some Volney, some Jon, some Liam and Alanna, some Delia) and add to the collection if you've got a minute or two to spare. If you've only got a half a minute, that will do too! (Ignore the deadline, they picked a funny time to start caring about those...) The theme is "Eyes". You can ignore that too.
fenella: (sigh)
Mmm, more fic. This is a young Jon/Delia, and it's sort of been a long time coming.

1,080 words, which is five times as long as the Italian composition that I should have been writing instead. Sally, you can count this as my fluffathon entry if you want. I didn't use the quote either, but I'm sure there's a joke in there somewhere if you use it as the punchline to the cut tag...

So Jon, Delia and an Oak Tree walk into a bar...  )
fenella: (Default)
Yeah, instead of writing my Dove exchange fic, I wrote this. It's short & rough but something that I wanted to write. It's Kel/Lerant.

My Kind of Crazy )
fenella: (the real show is backstage)
I've added Firefly to the mix - since Danny (Sydney's fiancée in Alias, a doctor - hence the healer) has the part of Atherton Wing in Shindig. This also leaves open the door for Gina Torres goodness :) Anna/Zoe - who would win that fight?

So.. Kitchen Confidential/Tamora Pierce/Alias/Firefly. The cross-over that won't die.

Imogen, I may have to kill you yet :P

Supper Spy pt. 2 )

Psst, Sally are you free on Friday Dec 15th?
fenella: (the real show is backstage)
Fic for Imogen! Alias/TP/soon to be KC crossover. I hope you appreciate how weird it is for me writing about the actor Bradley Cooper, when I know a real person by the same name (who isn't like this at all). Not that the actor isn't a real person... but you know what I mean. Anyways, this is still really rough. Spell-checked, but that's about it. But I probably won't have time to write for another few weeks again. Not that I actually had the time to write this, though :P

Summary:When we find him, Bradley Cooper is on the point of breaking. He’s worked as at the Port Caynn docks for the past seven years, an undercover spy, and a mess-up on the first real action he’s seen in years resulted in the death of one of his closest friends and fellow spy, Francie. He’s sure he’s not meant to be a spy, but doesn’t want to disappoint his older brother, George – who just happens to be the king of thieves in nation’s capital. Soon after, Bradley receives a new assignment: to the kitchens of a Tusainie palace.

Pic & Fic pt.1 under the cut, working title: Supper Spy. )
fenella: (the real show is backstage)
670 words of crack. I'm clearly insane to write this, because I may be the only person on the face of the earth who has read both sets of Gordon Korman books on which this is based AND watched "The Class". In any case, "The Class" is wonderfully silly, and Yonk Allen made me think of Hank the Tank Carson right away. If I feel like humouring myself, I may finish this one day. The noise in the kitchen is meant to be the house falling in, like Duncan's predicted, so that he can come join in the fun. And naturally Jardine would be thrilled to meet a REAL LIVE WEATHER REPORTER, Holly. In the meantime:

a Zucchini Warriors/Semester in the Life of a Garbage Bag/The Class cross-over fic

Read more... )
fenella: (Default)
Tamora Pierce Fic featuring an odd assortment of characters and, err, things.

Brought to you by James Blunt, The Panda Band, Iron and Wine, STP covering Led Zepplin, The Edmonton Oilers, Frank and Gord-o (The Bell Beavers), Stacy of Eisley, The Faders, good for the greater evil, “Mrs. Of Arc” of Ted and Bill fame, my unyielding loathing of Bryan McCabe and finally, the colour green:

Dancing Days (In Sleepy Little Deathtoll Town) )
fenella: (Default)
Now that I'm at home, unemployed and mostly stress-free, I don't ever update this thing. Thus proving the popular theory that prolific-ness is directly proportional to stress levels.

Anyways... Happy (now belated, but hey it balances out the early celebration) Birthday to the 26 year old [livejournal.com profile] imelford.

For Imo (and prompted by Sally's five words) here's the first of three parts for Medium Rare the fourth (but second to be written) fic in the ever unpopular "Steak" series.

A shout out for Smoke and Ashes which came out today and another for the efficiency with which indigo.com ships their books. Yay for new Tony! Lee! Jack! Henry! Amy! Zev! Demons! Syndicated television! 4000 year old stunt woman!

This, however, was written before I read the new novel. And yes I do realize that Henry and Tony don't actually act this gay:

Read more... )


Mar. 16th, 2006 03:05 am
fenella: (dance dance dance)
Fandom: Firefly - post Serenity (movie)
Ship: Jayne/Kaylee
Rating: G
Words: 1,996

My first attempt at writing Firefly Fic. It's late. This isn't proof-read.

Poor Simon, *hugs him*. I love Simon, which is why it's okay to make him suffer )
fenella: (Default)
I can not write Wyldon/Owen. It's far too painful.

Yet I crave this pairing - it is a horrible, horrible illness.

If someone writes me Wyldon/Owen I will, in turn, write them what ever they might desire. And need I mention the unconditional love?

Pretty please?


fenella: (Default)

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