Words by Sinope

I'm currently in the Deep North, staying with my mother. My mother's cat is a sweet little weirdo:

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And yes, if you're wondering how my mother wound up adopting what appears to be a Turkish Angora from her local rescue: I have zero clue. There was a whole litter of them that were all put up for adoption about a year ago at the age of eight months. There's some sort of story there, especially since as far as I can tell there are no registered Turkish Angora breeders operating in Australia atm. But however it happened, my mum ended up with a sweet, funny, playful, affectionate ball of white fluff with a tail like a plume.

Six Eight sentences from a Regency AU thing I'm working on (because the first time I counted the sentences they added up to six and then the second time I counted them they somehow added up to eight). And just for the record, this is all Samirant's fault.


Count Ilya Rozanov leaned against the ship's gunwale and stared out across the water. In the near distance, the white chalk cliffs gleamed in the afternoon sunlight, a stark contrast with the brilliant blue of La Manche - the English Channel. It was a pretty sight, no doubt beloved of landscape painters, and perhaps also by English sailors coming home after long hours at sea. But Ilya was neither painter, nor sailor, nor, especially, English. He spared the scenery no more than the barest glance, his eyes on the ship of the line at full sail just a little ahead of them. Impregnable she was called. Ilya sincerely hoped that the name did not lie. She was the flagship of the Admiral the Duke of Clarence, brother to the English Prince Regent, and she carried a host of European dignitaries, not least of whom was his Imperial Majesty, Tsar Alexander himself.

He drew an enamel snuff box from his pocket and, shielding it from the wind with one hand, opened it with a practised flick of his thumb.

As always, the first thing that hit me was the smell of thousands of herbs and flowers, a dry, green, enticing smell that got into my lungs and soothed the world away, mortal peril forgotten. A warm light bathed the place, shining from several living octopus-like creatures tangled in the ceiling beams. Rows and rows of hundreds of little tins and jars lined the walls, all of them labeled in Laemura's spidery handwriting: Apple Mint Innocence. Lavender Regret. Smoky Cinnamon Vengeance. Doomed Foreknowledge With Toasted Walnut And Sage.

from The Last Hour Between Worlds, by Melissa Caruso

There was the story I was planning to write, and then there was the much more out there (and potentially much longer) story idea that came up in conversation with a friend last night - when I foolishly said: "I could write that."

Guess which one I've now got 1500 words of?

*sigh*

The word "fuck" has been coming up in my online conversations quite a bit today, mostly coupled with "you". She's an utter menace.

This is my favourite kind of established relationship fic, exploring the "learning how to be together" phase of a relationship. Sweet but in a believable and not too sweet way. This one contains some spoilers for The Long Game, but is mostly set after the end of that book.

Heaven Has Got Nothing On Us (Oh, I Love You Even When My Body Turns to Dust) (39629 words) by overlycaffeinatedgalaxy

Relationships: Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

( Summary )

Tea friends, I haven't forgotten you. Spent some of yesterday mixing up a few tea blends and gathering up bagged options.

The one thing cold weather is good for is chopping down one's unread book stash.
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( Icons )


( Flight Rising )

1. The heatwave - or heat dome as the meteorologists have been calling it - is over. There's eight days I never want to live through again. The max got to almost 42C/107F here again on Saturday, but was down to about 30/86 yesterday and we're on track for only 24/75 today. I'm actually sitting here with a light wrap around my shoulders. When I went out at 8.00 this morning it was, like, 9/48 degrees. Talk about temperature whiplash. It's going to heat up again later in the week, but only to about the mid-30s, which is much easier to live with than 40+.

2. I had dental surgery for an implant this morning. It went well, and very glad they could do it under local anaesthetic, but also very glad it's over. Currently sipping tepid coffee on the non-numb side of my mouth and icing the other side of my face. I think I might curl up in bed with some fic in a while.

3. Festivids is live. I haven't had a chance to watch as many as I'd like yet, but just off the top of my head there are several Babylon 5 vids (yay!), a great character study of Gromit from Wallace and Gromit,  and some really inventive Dykes to Watch Out For vids that manage to turn a static source (a comic strip) into something really effective and dynamic.