Be the change you want to see.

i have 888 bookmarks on Archive Of Our Own. woot!

i have 30 stories posted on Archive Of Our Own, most of them complete!

i have 8,095 words written for nanowrimo, woot!

I wrote 3000 words over two days, woot!

I just invented the word "dildoish"!

I wrote a sex scene hot enough that I had to go get myself off. Woot! :D

I'm grinning like an idiot and yeah.

Suddenly, KITTENS. Kittens everywhere. Steve couldn’t understand how every single one of the Avengers, every single member of security and support staff, were suddenly talking about, sharing photos of, and even bringing the actual animals in to work at the Tower.
His own kitten was pathetic and adorable, and was of course discovered in a moment of maximum pathos: crusty eyes, covered with fleas (that jumped dark against the star on his chest after Steve picked him up), sneezing, and mewing pitiably as he cringed beneath a pile of garbage in that old dark Brooklyn alley after Steve came home from the mission in Pennsylvania.

The kittens were all adorable, but Steve can’t be the only one to have noticed that during the last week every kitten he’s petted, stroked, played string with, admired, has a small bump in the very center of their skull. In the exact same spot. In the center of their skull.

Once is an accident. Twice is coincidence. Three times (and two dozen times) is, well… is time to call Bruce and ask him to examine Liberty from bottom to top, making sure he’s pure kitten with no unnatural, um, additives. Was that weird? Did that make his kitten sound like he was a food product? ugh, that’s awful. He needs to be sure to never ever say this out loud.

Bruce examines Libby thoroughly. (“You know I’m not that kind of doctor, Steve…” he said with a tiny smile, accepting the kitten, paws frantic, high squeaking heading for the upper range of human hearing, tiny sharp claws at full extension.)

“Libby seems fine, Steve. As far as a near microscopic examination can tell, he’s an ordinary Felis Cattus with a curious small protrusion of his skull. It’s not outside the realm of possibility that all the kittens come from a family where this is a harmless genetic mutation.”

“What bothers me, Bruce, is that the kittens here at the Tower came here from all over the five boroughs… Delia in R & D drives in from Hoboken, said she found her kitten going through the backyard trash bins. Sam found his kitten when he was visiting his mom in Queens. I found Libby in Brooklyn. They can’t all be from the same family! Now statistically speaking, how likely is that?”

Neither man, thinking hard during this discussion, has noticed that the tiny kitten Steve thinks of as “his,” is quietly tucked up in “loaf of bread” position on the end of the laboratory table, freakishly huge radar dish kitten ears perked, and large, now clear, blue eyes lazily watching them both.

Bruce frowns and pulls off his glasses, reaching for a handkerchief in his shirt pocket. “Unlikely at best.” He glances over at the unnaturally well-behaved kitten curled up tidily at the end of his table. “What about it, Liberty? Care to share your secrets with us?”

The response is a lazy blink from a seemingly contented kitten, whose head falls forward slightly as his eyes seem to close.

“I don’t think we’re going to hear anything from the source here. We may want to hire a veterinarian with enough security clearance to examine all the kittens in the Tower, just to make sure nothing untoward is happening.” (The kitten’s eyes slit open briefly, then close again)

“Let’s do that,” says Steve. “I mean, we want to make sure they’re healthy anyway, best case scenario. If we get a vet who’s a research veterinarian, can’t we ask them to look for anything out of the ordinary?”

“Sure,” says Bruce, lifting his eyes and his chin toward the ceiling. “JARVIS, can you please start hunting us up a veterinarian within those stated parameters?”

“Certainly, Doctor Banner. I can even initiate contact with likely candidates and narrow the field for you by start of business tomorrow morning.” The smooth, British accented voice of the resident artificial intelligence was inherently soothing, and the next piece of the puzzle was in good hands. Steve relaxed.

Libby yawned widely, showing needle sharp teeth, and stretched his front paws out to show off his tiny needle sharp claws as well. From his sphinx like pose, he regarded Steve’s massive chest like it was a tree to climb, and then took up the challenge. Leaping from his seated position, he latched on to Steve’s tee shirt and mountain-climbed to the top of his shoulder. Once there, he commenced head-butting and purring at Steve’s ear and jaw until Steve laughed and put his hand up to catch the tiny cat whose claws were skidding over the top of his bulky shoulder muscle. “Lib, you’re adorable, but I’m never letting Stark name a pet of mine ever again. Thanks Bruce!”

Steve turned to head for the elevator, hand still protectively cupped around the small cat whose front paw rested atop his ear, and who rode the supersoldier’s shoulder with grace, like a mahout aboard a particularly humongous elephant.

***

Later that night, Steve slept, quietly, without his former tossing and turning. Libby ran around, clattered over the tops of tables and bureaus, chased small cat-toys through the living room until he wound up far far beneath the entertainment center.

Far enough under the entertainment center that he knew JARVIS couldn’t see him.

He lay flat against the carpet and broadcast a short message: “Sample subjects were NOT randomly selected. All subjects work in the same scientific environment. Abort information gathering efforts. Abort.”

Libby lay his head down on the carpet. Wondered hopefully if his superiors would allow him to stay with the man-mountain, especially if all the other data-collectors were recalled to other duties. Sighed. Rolled suddenly out from under the entertainment center with a catnip mouse in his paws, throwing it into the air and almost-catching it, chasing his prey again, towards the bedroom where the man-mountain Steve was sleeping.

Steve slept better when Libby was curled up, purring, in the crook of his head and shoulder.
Libby had the data to prove it.

(the kitten invasion fleet has arrived)
(sequel to be titled, i for one welcome our feline overlords)

I woke up this morning to sweet cuddles and caresses from a warm sleepy husband. Nothing more than cuddles this time, as he read his newspaper with one hand and ran the other absent mindedly over my head. I felt like a cat in a lap, warm and contented and loved. When he rose to wash up, I worked on my morning stretches. It feels so good to move the body, the First Home, to have it respond so sweetly to my requests. Bodies are wonderful, they soak up the sunlight and warmth, they feel the touch of loved ones, they can work, kiss, write, interpret for the brain. Bodies are the filters through which we experience pleasure, all the pleasures. Sex and food and running and tickling, laughter and back scratches and massage, intoxication of love or of good wine. I am in good health, able to accomplish what I set out to do of a day without more than slight pains or discomfort. Doing pretty well for a middle-aged woman whose favorite activities are writing, gardening, and cooking.
I am thankful for my body.

When I finished my stretches and my morning meditation, my husband had begun preparing breakfast. I always boil a pot of black tea for myself, as he doesn’t care for it. We had crepes with ham and cheese and apple, and a dash of maple syrup. Then he got on the computer to book hotel reservations and make other arrangements for our upcoming trip, and then we worked together on preparing the Thanksgiving duck. Last night he was working for hours, between research on a project for our house, fine tuning a home improvement project (this required a skill saw that lets him cut a tidy hole in the wall for a new electrical outlet). Before that, he had been supervising the final stages of some work being done in our yard.
I am thankful for my husband.

My life is very abundant. The loving husband and friends and chosen family and biological family are all blessings to me. Though I have never carried to term, I am a beloved auntie and sister-mom to many children, I have worked in schools with many children, I have loved many children. I am surrounded by friends who seek my company. I am surrounded by people who speak and write to me with supportive and kind words, who encourage my artistic endeavors, who inspire me with how they work and play and strive to build a better world.
I am thankful for my community, and the connections within it.

My home is colorful and comfortable. We have quilts on the beds, clothes in the closets, warm curtains against the chill. We have an outdoor space that is green and lovely, with water and earth and space to grow food. We have a kitchen and a living room with space to entertain comfortably, and food enough in the pantry and refrigerator to feed people we like and love. Our soft and lazy felines nap in the sunshine, on our laps, atop stereo speakers and under the kitchen table. They love us, rub against us, talk to us, chide us when the food is late or the box unscooped, and their antics continue to make us laugh down the years.
I am thankful for our lovely house, and for our sweet cats.

Recently I have been writing very prolifically. The ideas and images have been flowing easily to my pen and my screen, and releasing them and arranging them has been giving me great joy. For many years now, I seek the printed word for comfort, whether reading them or writing them. I feel like I am hitting “the zone”, as runners do, as other artists do. The words are friendly and flirty and I handle them comfortably, even when they zip and zing and burn, even when they are as cold and mean as dry ice.
I am so very thankful for the words and for my muse, and for the privilege of crafting with words.

Plot bunny: Artemis and her dogs.
Artemis ruffles the soft ears of the long legged dog panting between her feet. Her keen eyes scan the … (trees in the forest, could have bookend scenes beginning similarly at different points in the story) … house for the inevitable evidence of dog scuffles and minor misbehaviours. she nods and smiles, as Gwen rolls over for belly rubs. The house gnomes are not striking yet, the house looks tidy still. Gwen smiles up, tongue lolling out, as Artemis’s long fingers groom through her coat, pulling a few loose leaves and twigs from their last ramble through the fields. Artemis wonders why Arthur has not put in an appearance, as usually he is not willing (does not hesitate) to forego (demand) his share of any human attention.

She sniffs the air. Deliciousness is in the air, a right and proper British lamb stew in the making. Her one extravagance, a live-in housekeeper. She grins. Otherwise, as she knows well, the house will be a mess (in spite of the gnomes’ best efforts!) and she would be eating a lot of plain fruit, granola, cheese, crackers, and beef jerky. *grimace* She remembers her “bachelor phase” quite well and has no desire to go back to that way of living.

It’s a simple house, her house. Small and neat, with a rambling back yard and kennels along the side, attached to the garage. The puppies are born in birthing boxes in the garage, and once they are old enough to wean, join the pile of dogs in the kennel, until they are trained up properly as hunting and guide dogs. There is always a demand for guide dogs. There is always a demand for hunting dogs. Artemis loves both kinds of training, and her babies only go to clients who have been thoroughly vetted and interviewed and who will treat them as the treasures they are. Family members, but family members trained to help with specific and necessary tasks to make a person’s life BETTER.

Standing, after one last rub to the soft belly under her hand and a soft grip on one silky ear, she walks into the kitchen and greets Mrs. (elephant elephant need a fairy housekeeper name) with a grin and theatrical sniffing of the air. Gwen has followed Artemis into the kitchen, where Arthur has decided to rule today from under the kitchen table. His doggy-face splits in a grin and he scrambles up to jump up on her legs while she laughs and scruffles his ears and scruffs his neck, pulling his smile even wider as he tries to lick her face and she denies him, pushing his nose to the side so he can not get a good lick in. “Dammit dog, it’s a good thing nobody ever comes here to adopt puppies. Nobody would believe that our puppies have any damn training at all after seeing YOU at your worst!” But of course she’s not mad, she’s still laughing, he’s still jumping and trying to love on her the best way he knows how, and the housekeeper has her arms crossed over her apron and is laughing at all of them, even Gwen who is sitting in Good Dog Pose by the doorway, with a panting, smiling face.

Uncle Cy understands about her dad. They went to college together and apparently dad was even a bigger jerk with poor impulse control, in his youth. Oy. it is pretty damn bad now, she has difficulty imagining her dad being even MORE immature.

Cy says he’ll meet her at the visitor’s center for the park. it is a pleasant drive up into the Santa Cruz mountains, and a lovely walk from the parking lot into the park. He wraps a rough arm around her shoulders, his heavy canvas coat scraping against her wool jacket. He’s the only relative that treats her like this, like they can rough house a bit and they won’t “mess her up”. she knows she takes after her mother in wanting to look put together and tidy… most of the time. But Athena loves spending time with Cy. He treats her like an adult (why her father and mother can’t understand how to do that she does not know) but doesn’t shy away from hugs, physical affection, hair tousling, that kind of thing. He can also tell, without her saying a thing, when she’s too fragile or upset to play that way. And when she is, he makes sure to treat her more gently, though he doesn’t refrain from touching her, like her siblings do.

it is nice. it is nice to have at least ONE family member she can rely on for hugs and blunt, honest conversation.

They walk, an arm around each other, into the smooth and well manicured park beneath the towering redwood trees. it is a beautiful day, and the needles and leaves underfoot smell sharp and clean. The air has a tang of autumn in it. It catches at the back of her throat when she breathes in deeply. And here, unlike at work or at home, she wants to breathe in deeply. It smells so good. She can distinguish sun warmed crushed pine needles, and the bitter green scent of bay laurel and eucalyptus mixed. A slight floral note comes, she expects, from the small patch of flowers over there in the sunbeam. She doesn’t know what kind of flower it is. Corey would know. Her cousin knows all about the local and imported flowers. Anything that grows in California, Corey knows everything possible it is to know. At least that’s how it seems to Athena. She shrugs beneath her uncle’s arm, and he shakes her lightly.

“you lost in your own head again, there?” She looks up at him with a wry smile. He pats her shoulder with the hand that’s wrapped around her. “you might as well be HERE while you’re here, you know. It is more fun that way.” His tanned and weathered face bends towards her as he drops a kiss on top of her head. there is NOBODY else who does that to her. She loves it. As a tall woman since adolescence, meeting a man taller than her has been a rarity her whole life. A man taller than her who loves and hugs her and kisses her atop her head? rarer than hen’s teeth.

She hugs him sideways and leans her head briefly against his shoulder. “Thanks, Cy. Thanks for dragging me out of the city and getting me out of my own head and everything.” She heaves a sigh, shaking her head slightly. “My dad is being a jerk again and I just needed to get away for the afternoon.” She smiles down at the path as they continue walking. “I am glad you were free for lunch.”

“Anything for my favorite niece, you know that.” The proud smile shows up in his voice, even (when she can’t see his face) with her not looking at him. She darts a smiling glance upward. “I know you say that to my sisters too… but I am okay with us all being your favorite.”

Cy laughs suddenly and loudly. “It is true, you are all my favorites. And I love when you all, or any of you, come to visit. We’ll have to have a family sail before I put the boat in drydock for the winter storms.”

He shakes her gently again, as they start up a slight slope in the path, illuminated by the bright beams slanting through the tall trees. “I am sorry Zee is being a jerk again. I wish I could say he’d get over it, but after many years of experience with his charming and crappy attitude, I’ve come to the conclusion that what’s needed is a giant fish slap upside the head.” Athena snorts involuntarily with laughter as Cy continues. “Kind of like in that superhero movie recently. A cognitive recalibration, they called it.’ Athena flat out giggles. “I am giggling.” she says, holding her hand self consciously in front of her mouth. “You’re the only one who makes me laugh like this.”

“Probably helps that I am one of the few, the proud, the stupid, who continue to be friends with your dad despite his jackassery. I get what you’re going through because I’ve been there too.” He releases her shoulder with a final squeeze to step up high onto the next part of the trail. When he extends his hand to help her up, she takes it and lets him give her a tug. She doesn’t NEED the help, and she doesn’t get huffy with him the way she might have done with any other man… but she appreciates the gesture, coming from him. They stand for a moment to catch their breath and take in the view of the river below.

“Look, Kid.” And who else would call her, a 40 year old attorney practicing international law, a kid? She looks up at him, his hands in his pockets. “You know this, I’ve said it before. You need to live your own life. Your dad has his own stuff to take care of, and to be honest? Your mom does too. They both could stand to have some serious conversations and hash out some of the ancient stuff that’s just continuing the patterns that got established in the very beginning.” He shakes his head and stares out over the river gorge. “None of that nonsense is your fault OR your problem, even if Zee tries to make it so. Maybe you want to spend more time with your friends or your other family, if Zee is making life awkward for you.”
He cocks his head, considering, as he looks back down at her... “Girl, when is the last time you had a REAL vacation?” She looks up at him, wide gray eyes wary. “Don’t give me that, answer the question. Have you had more than a weekend off work in the last two years? Have you turned your cell phone off for more than a night (once it gets charged)? Ever refuse to answer it when your dad or your mom phones you up?” Her guilty glance sideways tells him what he needs to know. “Right then. It is October now. You book yourself a week off, and you go alone or you take a friend with you, and you go someplace new, someplace you’ve never been.” She looks up with that sharp assessing glance he knows she uses on fellow lawyers and board members. “Someplace you’ve always wanted to see. Tokyo or Kyoto, or Moscow, or Anchorage, the boating is superb up there. (He grins.) Boston in the fall maybe. Go shopping in Paris and eat baguettes and coffee for breakfast. Go visit Prague and study architecture for a week. Whatever.”
“It is time you do something for YOU, not for Zee.” His face quirks into a half-smile in profile as he looks away again.
“It is also time that he realizes how valuable you are to him, and how fucked he would be without you covering his ass all the time.” She joins him in a smile, though hers is shyer than his. “Your PA can handle your email and phones while you go. there is nothing huge on your schedule right now, which is probably part of why Zee is being such an ass right now. There;s no crisis for him to get high on, you know your daddy loves him some DRAMA.” She giggles again. “See there (it) she is.there is my smiling girl.” He turns and puts both hands on her shoulders, stepping down the trail till they are eye to eye. “you. you are amazing at what you do. You are competent beyond belief. You put on your armor and pick up your briefcase and you go into battle for him. But all warriors need rest at the end of the battle. And you? You have been working nonstop for entirely too long. We worry about you.” He moves his hands to her cheeks and places a kiss on her forehead. He holds her face a moment, looking into her large clear beautiful eyes.

“let’s hike back, have some lunch, and talk about what you might want to do next.”

She exhales and bumps her forehead into his sternum as she leans forward into his hug. His arms wrap around her and his hands rub her back in long, firm strokes.
She speaks quietly. “I am so damn TIRED, Uncle Cy.” She breathes in the salt and tar and wool smells of him as she leans her cheek on his chest.

“I know, girl, I know.” they stand in silence for a few moments as the sun warms their coats on one side and the shade chills their flesh on the other.

“Let’s get you out of town awhile. Maybe you can go teach that weaving class you started up a few years ago. Get your hands busy and get out of your head.” She raises her head quickly, and he smiles. “or,” he continues, “you could come crew the boat for me for a week? I promise you’d be too tired at the end of the day to worry, fret, or even think.” She raises one eyebrow. “Good point. I remember doing that with the sibs when we were kids, it was the best sleep I ever had, a night on your boat after working on it all day. The sea would rock us all to sleep in those hammocks you had.”

“All right then. Food, plans, let’s grab your sibs and the cousins and start planning a sail. And you start dreaming on where you want to fly away to. You deserve it.”
Athena straightens up, sighing and nodding. “I need it. You’re right.”

They pick their way back down the path, arm in arm, heading back towards the (guest) center visitors center. “I admit,” she says, “that I am NOT looking forward to telling Dad that I am taking a vacation.”

“So don’t tell him,” says Cy. “You’re a woman grown, and the head of your department. You’ve good people working for you, competent people. Let them handle it awhile. It will be FINE.”

She nods, already lost in her head and dreaming of a week of freedom to do what SHE wants to do, see, experience, and try for the first time. They walk the rest of the way in a silence broken only by birdsong and the sound of the water below.

Dionysos grinned like a cat licking cream from its paws. Nobody else has seemed to notice that subtle little tag he has scratched into the wall beneath the lamp post at the home his parents have up in the Berkeley Hills. For those with eyes to see, it is an invitation. More than an invitation, it is a celebration. D can not wait to see the look on his siblings’ faces when everyone in the know shows up for the party.

Midway through the evening, Athena and Apollo start to notice people who they don’t recognize coming through the gate at the garden party, filtering through the more civilized throngs. More to the point, many of these people are dressed in not garden party kinds of clothes. They look like (Athena shudders delicately) BURNERS. There are boots and hiking sandals at the bottom, veils and scarves and ridiculous hats at the top, and a variety of fabrics intermingled in between: leather, lace, tulle tutus, sarongs, silk, satin, gears and fobs and monocles and OH DEAR the steampunks seem to have arrived as well (think of some of the things Delirium wears in the Sandman scenes of the Deathless, go research that later elephant elephant). These … PEOPLE are mobbing the bar and the waitstaff, eating all the canapes and drinking all the champagne cocktails and demanding more and more. Apollo glances at her, an eyebrow raised in well-bred horror. Artemis is leaned against a pillar with her champagne flute, amused as all get out. Of course she is dressed in such a way (elephant elephant) that a couple of women with … interesting and unnaturally colored hairstyles have come over to have a rather intense conversation and are offering to share the contents of a flask. Apollo would be jealous but he is more interested in feeling INVADED.
“Do you think we can get rid of these persons without causing a scene?” he demanded of Athena in a barely audible whisper.
“If it were MY party, I should say yes” whispered Athena, “but it is not MY party, it is Dionysos’s. I mean LOOK at them, they MUST be the people that go to his shows, and he MUST have invited them!”

Dionysos is wearing the faintest hint of a smirk behind his usual gold-tinged sunglasses, and the colored lights swing and flow all around him, moving with the beat of the music as he DJ’s and blends seamlessly from one song and rhythm to the next. Athena scowls in his general direction because while his music may not be her THING, family is family, and family TRIES to support one another. She knows that usually his face is Buddha-like, lost in concentration and a zen like flow state. He loses himself in the music, usually. All that needs to happen now is something like Dita showing up with an entourage…

“Well, if this isn’t where the party started, it sure is where the party is now?” Athena avoids putting her face in her palm in sheer awkward embarrassment, but it is a damn near thing.

Dita Cypress slinks into their yard, an arm around a gorgeous young man on one side and around a brilliantly laughing incandescent blonde on the other. She unwraps from the one to collect a flute of champagne, gives him a thought provoking kiss that he returns with interest before she turns him, pats his bum, and nudges him into the throng. Arm around the lovely laughing lady at her side, she quirks an eyebrow briefly at the three Olympians (middle aged? hrm how to describe them and I need a family name for Zeus’ direct descendants for this fic, middle generation? I do not know this yet elephant elephant elephant). quirks an eyebrow briefly and flashes a brilliant smile at the three of them before kissing the woman at her side with the same level of interest and focus as she had shown the young man a few moments before, and with a caress to the girl’s cheek and a wink, sends her off into the party as well. Dita waggles her fingers at the trio who really aren’t all that much older than she is, really she is NOT that much younger than they are, how scandalous how DARE she… and she heads toward the podium or dais where Dionysos is holding court or rather is being worshipped by a sea of bobbing, dancing and flailing bodies under the flashing flowing colorful lights.

Athena gestures to one of the waiters to bring her more champagne. She is going to need it.