"Old Dogs and Tricks," HL, Aidanverse, gen
Next prompt up is from 
lferion : Methos (backstory for Aiden-verse would be fun, or what kind of fanfic he would write :-))
(ETA: Other fanfic by other characters can be found here, here, and here.)
Old Dogs and Tricks
The first email asked, "Do you have time to look a file over for me? 30,000 words or so." Aidan read it while the bread was in the oven, considered how Marc was coming along in his studies (better with broadsword than katana, by far, and picking up German quickly from his weekly calls with Damien) and how close she was to done with a current editing job. Why not, though? It wasn't as if she was juggling job, student and lovers just now, what with this lover currently in Paris and the other one off on an estate sale/auction house tour with his clansman.
So she sent back, "Yes, certainly, which journal is it for?"
The email that came back had a Word attachment called "Old Dogs and Tricks" and a note saying, "The word you're going to be looking up next is 'fanfiction.' And have you read these novels? They're quite good. P.S. -- Did Duathor ever write up that collection of poisons, antidotes, and dirty tricks she calls a mind?"
"That word," Aidan murmured, "I already know, Magister. I'll send you the next Sackett piece to look over…" She opened the file, already smiling, and dove into it for the first read-through.
The Cetagandan force was advancing up the valley in a staggered skirmish line that didn't take into account the way their face paint stood out against the woods and their opponents' superior knowledge of the terrain. Pyotr Vorkosigan's sharp, carrying whistle triggered the explanation of both facts. Original post on Dreamwidth | Leave a comment on DW | Read
comments on DW
lferion : Methos (backstory for Aiden-verse would be fun, or what kind of fanfic he would write :-))
(ETA: Other fanfic by other characters can be found here, here, and here.)
Old Dogs and Tricks
The first email asked, "Do you have time to look a file over for me? 30,000 words or so." Aidan read it while the bread was in the oven, considered how Marc was coming along in his studies (better with broadsword than katana, by far, and picking up German quickly from his weekly calls with Damien) and how close she was to done with a current editing job. Why not, though? It wasn't as if she was juggling job, student and lovers just now, what with this lover currently in Paris and the other one off on an estate sale/auction house tour with his clansman.
So she sent back, "Yes, certainly, which journal is it for?"
The email that came back had a Word attachment called "Old Dogs and Tricks" and a note saying, "The word you're going to be looking up next is 'fanfiction.' And have you read these novels? They're quite good. P.S. -- Did Duathor ever write up that collection of poisons, antidotes, and dirty tricks she calls a mind?"
"That word," Aidan murmured, "I already know, Magister. I'll send you the next Sackett piece to look over…" She opened the file, already smiling, and dove into it for the first read-through.
The Cetagandan force was advancing up the valley in a staggered skirmish line that didn't take into account the way their face paint stood out against the woods and their opponents' superior knowledge of the terrain. Pyotr Vorkosigan's sharp, carrying whistle triggered the explanation of both facts. Original post on Dreamwidth | Leave a comment on DW | Read
comments on DW