embroidering the truth

Note on warnings: I will always warn for major issues like rape, character-death, and underage sex - not that I write those things very often at all. I will always warn for violence to animals. Potentially upsetting things that I'm NOT likely to warn for are drinking, minor drug use and puking. However, if you have any concerns that a specific issue that's triggering to you might be in one of my stories, please feel free to contact me and ask me about it. I promise that I'll answer your question in a respectful manner.

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Title: The Comforts of Home
Author: embroiderama
Rating: PG
Pairing: Steve/Danny
Warnings: none
Word count: 1,523
Spoilers: 2x10
Summary: What do you see, when you close your eyes and think about home?

Notes: This was written for the h50_flashfic Comfort challenge, also the Amnesty challenge, since I was too late for the main Comfort challenge. The link takes you over there for reading.

~~~

( For many, many months after he moved to Hawaii, long after the house in New Jersey had been sold, the image of home in his head was still that brick Cape Cod, small and cozy with a postage-stamp sized yard that was always full of dandelions. )

I've been listening to some music and this song just struck me as perfectly Dean/Cas even if it's not particularly my pairing. Who Will Guard The Door by Over the Rhine.

You were the hand that I tried to take
You're the decision that I could not make
You're the religion that I should forsake

You were the story I tried to tell
You were the savior that tripped and fell
Beautiful dancing infidel

Who will guard the door when I am sleeping
Who will guard the door when I am sleeping
I'm not sleeping

You were the season that would not change
I often was the same
Then four horseman came and stole my name

I never saw you fall apart
I never saw you work so hard
Never saw you need no one
I am my father's son

Bonus song: Drunkard's Prayer, which I uploaded by accident.

Title: The Secrets You Can't Keep
Author: embroiderama
Rating: PG-13
Characters/pairings: Sam & Dean, past Sam/Jess
Word count: 6,914
Summary: Dean knew almost everything about Sam, but after Stanford there was one vitally important thing that Sam neglected to tell Dean. Sam was used to keeping secrets, but keeping this one was a bad idea.

Notes: This was written for shangrilada's prompt at the ohsam Fic Challenge. Thank you to nelle816 for looking it over for me.

~~~

( The one thing that Jess and his good friends at Stanford — hell, most of his casual friends there — knew about Sam, was the one thing he couldn't quite figure out how to mention to Dean. It's not like it was a big deal. )




One of the things that makes me laugh about life with my cats is that they believe that any kind of can that requires a can opener (I use a manual one) is tuna. So, they hear the plunk of a can on the counter, the rattle of the can opener, and suddenly all three cats are in the kitchen, crying, jumping on the counter, etc. See, when I open a can of tuna, I drain the liquid onto a dinner plate and put it on the floor for all of them to huddle around and lap up. Why waste it, right? When I open something other than tuna, which is always something they have no interest in like beans or diced tomatoes or (as it was today) pumpkin, I have to show them. I hold the can out for them to smell, and then they walk away. Cats: they require proof.

( a pic of the sharing tuna juice that I tweeted months ago )

The Space Between the Bullets in Our Firefight -- Part 2

Return to Part 1

( Jeff leaned over his computer, trying to stretch out the tension in his back, then sat up and took another long drink of coffee. )

Please go check out the Art Masterpost and leave lots of lovely comments for mysticwaters!

I haven't done one of these in a long while, but I figured why not. delicatale is hosting a love meme, and my thread is here.

:)

I've been looking at old WIPs and in the interests of one I'd need to research, I'm wondering if there are any die-hard Dog Whisperer fans out there who'd be able to point me toward an episode that dealt with a dog who was obsessed with food to a dangerous degree (stealing food from people, etc.) from being underfed previously. Or anything similar to that? I've only ever seen one or two eps of the show, but I like the ~1000 words I have on this WIP.

I'm looking through my google docs, and it's like a graveyard of stories half-born. Kind of enticing and depressing at the same time.w

I just posted this very silly little ficlet over at kissemdanno.

Title: Lip Smackers
Author: embroiderama
Rating: PG
Word count: 550
Summary: Steve gets home to find that Grace has left her Danno with something special. (established relationship)

( Danny stood just inside with one of Steve's favorite kind of goofy smiles on his face and--what was that? )

Short Ode
by Stephen Vincent Benet

It is time to speak of these
Who took the long, strange journey overseas,
Who fell through the air in flames.
Their names are many, I will not name their names
Though some were people I knew;
After some years the ghost itself dies, too,
And that is my son’s picture on the wall
But his girl has been long married and that is all.
They died in mud, they died in camps of the flu.
They are dead. Let us leave it so.
The ones I speak of were not forced, I know.
They were men of my age and country, they were young men
At Belleau, at the seaports, by the Aisne.
They went where their passion took them and are not.
They do not answer mockery or praise.

You may restore the days
They lived beneath and you may well restore
The painted image of that fabled war,
But not those faces, not the living ones
Drowned in the water, blown before the guns
In France or Belgium or the bitter sea
(And the foreign grave is far, and men use the name,
But they did not go for votes or the pay they got
Or the brave memorial speech by the D.A.R)
It is far, the foreign grave. It is very far
And the time is not the same.
But certain things are true
Despite the time, and these were men that I knew,
Sat beside, walked beside,
In the first running of June, in the careless pride.
It is hard to think back, to find them, to see their eyes
And none born since shall see those, and the books are lies,
Being either praise or blame.
But they were in their first youth. It is not the same,
You, who are young, remember that youth dies.
Go, stranger, and to Lacedemon tell,
They were shot and rotted, they fell
Burning on flimsy wings.
And yet it was their thought that they did well.
And yet there are still the tyrants and the kings.