a fool's musings

Boreas by Waterhouse
Fool, said my muse to me,
look in thy heart and write...

Warning: Adult Content

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2002-01-09 - 10:24 p.m.

H-Con 172 (spoilers)

Aaron Sorkin is one cruel bastard.

First off, how could Josh even *think* he likes a woman who calls him "Special J"? That is the lamest nickname ever.

And could he have sounded any *less* enthusiastic when he said, "I'm ensorcelled"? Sheesh, I've heard grocery lists read with more conviction.

So, happy about the President's final decision, somewhat disturbed by how Donna looked at Cliff [and Christ I've been reading fic too long. Deep Throat references *shouldn't* be about sex first on a show that deals with the White House].

Digging Jordan. Definitely.

But Amy... I'd like Amy [aside from the Special J thing and the weird way she talks] if I weren't convinced that Josh and Donna belong together.

Bah.

Feh.

So I'm writing the fight scene in Consumption at a rate of about two lines a day. Here's some of it.

It sucks the big one, just so's ya know...

"Magneto's going to mutate the crowd. That's his big plan," Scott responded. He pulled the non-working phone from his pocket and tossed it at Logan. "Next time, give me something that works."

Logan raised an eyebrow, and suddenly, they were all in Scott's head. He could feel Storm and Beast and Wolverine filtered through Jean's familiar presence. He repeated his news and heard Hank's surprised thought.

~It must be a dangerous procedure. He is going to transfer his powers to Rogue,~ Beast mused.

~And let her take the risk,~ Jean finished.

"Over my dead body."

Scott looked sharply at Logan, who had spoken aloud as well as telepathically.

~Then, let's go,~ Storm said, her thoughts marked by the same crisp tone as her speech. ~Wolverine, you handle Sabretooth. Jean and I will attempt to control Magneto. Beast, Cyclops, you find Rogue and get her to safety. We will discuss your disregard of my orders later, Cyclops.~

He shivered even as he voiced his agreement with the plan. That was one conversation he was looking forward to even less than this fight ahead of them.

They found the stairwell and began climbing.

Wolverine sniffed the air, all senses on alert. "There's someone here."

"Where?" Scott hissed.

"I don't know. Keep your eye open."

"Logan --" Scott began.

"Would you two be quiet?" Storm snapped. "Wolverine, who is it?"

"Sabretooth. Magneto. Toad. I know they're here. I just can't see 'em."

"What about Rogue?" Scott asked.

"Yeah." Logan's voice was clipped.

~Telepathy only,~ Storm's voice sounded in Scott's head. ~Sabretooth's senses are almost as acute as Logan's.~

They climbed in tense silence, and Scott found himself grateful for the punishing training Logan had put him through; otherwise he'd have never been able to climb up thiryy flights of stairs so quickly and silently.

They'd reached the landing on the thirty-fifth floor and were taking a quick breather when Logan went completely still. Scott could *see* his ears perk and his nostrils flare.

~Sabretooth.~

Almost before the word finished echoing in his head (and later he would wonder how Logan managed to growl telepathically), a large, hairy blond man had jumped from the landing above them and was wrestling with Wolverine, who extended his claws but wasn’t able to swing freely in the enclosed space.

Scott’s hand went to his visor. If he could just get a clear shot --

Sabretooth and Wolverine tumbled down the stairs together, entangled, still growling and fighting.

"Logan can handle Sabretooth," Storm said sharply when Scott made to follow them.

He ignored her, and was on his way down the stairs when another man leapt down, knocking him into Jean and Storm.

As he and Jean struggled to untangle themselves, he saw Storm get picked up and flung up the stairs, and then he it was happening to him.

"What the hell--"

It felt like a snake, only warm and slimy instead of cool and dry, and it squeezed all the air out of his lungs as it tossed him over the railing. He landed, coughing and wheezing, unable to catch his breath.

~It’s his tongue,~ Jean said, bringing her powers into play as Toad turned to attack her. She held a hand up and he was frozen in mid-leap. He made a hacking sound and spat, covering her face in slime.

As she tried to peel it off, to no avail, Scott yelled, “Jean!” She grunted in response, stumbling around on the landing. “I’m coming, Jean. Hang on.”

He reached her and attempted to remove the mask of slime encasing her face, but it didn’t come off. “Oh, God. Don’t move.” His voice held a note of command that even he was impressed with.

He stepped back and dialed down the opening on the visor. He and Hank had experimented -- and he wondered just where the hell Hank was when they were in all this trouble -- with different degrees of force and precision and he was sure he could do this. He had to do this. Because Jean was suffocating and she’d die if he didn’t.

He chose not to think about what would happen if he didn’t do it right.

He touched his visor.

A pencil-thin beam of red light shattered the slime coating Jean’s face, and she gasped and collapsed into his arms.

===

That's what I've got so far. Eek.

~victoria



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2002-01-09 - 4:25 p.m.

ick

Random hygiene question for the world:

Why do people lick their fingers to handle papers and then give them to you and expect you to want to *touch* them?

I hate that. It icks me out, man.

~victoria
particular about whose saliva I come into contact with

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2002-01-09 - 10:50 a.m.

Self-deception is nature; hypocrisy is art.

I am a hypocrite.

All that stuff I wrote about awards and how I'm ambivalent about them etc. etc.?

I still mean it.

That hasn't stopped me from listing my stories in the CBFFAs or whatever those CFAN awards are.

You can see my list here.

I did it for a few reaons.

One, I'm egotistical enough to think my stories are good enough to be nominated and win.

Two, I need to see if other people think that.

Three, humiliation is supposed to be good for the soul, right?

Considering the competition and my general anonymity, I doubt I'll get nominated. Which despite anything I'll say later to the contrary, will be quite humiliating for me. So I'll take the humble and get over it, after gnawing on my own liver for a while.

And there's a lovely image this fine morning. *g*

Four, I was asked to participate because there's not much movieverse presence [and really, from what I've *heard*, a lot of comicfen like it that way] and the hope is that having a bunch of movieverse authors at least *offer* themselves would raise the genre's profile.

However, since most of my fic is L/R, I have serious doubts of ever being accepted by most comic fans, even if the vocal and vehement resistance to the pairing died down a long, long time ago.

It's definitely a niche pairing. And it's definitely got a reputation that's not always of the good.

So I did it last night. I looked through my list of stories and picked about 20 I thought could compete.

Since I don't read a lot of comic-based fic, I probably will not vote, or I"ll vote for stuff I already know.

Once I've figured the categories out. I'm a little fuzzy on that. Well, it *was* about two in the morning when I decided to post my list and read the rules, so I don't think it made much sense.

And considering the lack of sleep I've suffered in the past two days, I'm not sure it would make too much more sense this morning.

No more caffeine at 5 pm. Not unless there's a big meal going with it.

Why yes, I'm blaming the caffeine rather than my own disinclination to ever, you know, go to bed at a reasonable hour.

I don't know *why* [and y'all know how tormented I am by the *whys* - just call me Bayliss *g*], but I've always had this *thing* about going to bed early. It's like I'm afraid I'm going to *miss* something. As though there's something TO miss at 2 am on a Tuesday evening in January...

Anyhow, you can view the nomination form etc. here, and more information on rules and categories and such here.

(FYI: click on the "heres" to get there, eh? I realize that since I have my links the same color as the text, sometimes it looks like there's no links there. And don't EVEN get me started on how crappy every site I've made looks in Netscape. Grr.)

Songs for this morning:

Take a Walk on the Wild Side - Lou Reed [and you haven't heard this song until you've heard my dad sing it. Trust me on this]
Obscurity Knocks - Trashcan Sinatras
I Want You To Want Me - Cheap Trick

And the quote in the title of this little entry is from a guy I've never heard of named Mason Cooley.

I LOVE Bartleby.com.

~victoria
"I would prefer not to."

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2002-01-08 - 10:02 p.m.

Rogue's Clever Plan

Okay, this is how utterly out of the Buffy loop I am...

I didn't know there was a new episode tonight until about 7:30 pm.

It was... okay.

Nice Xanderifficness. Decent Willow.

Was the nerd trio supposed to be funny?

Though I *loved* the Lex Luthor reference. *g*

And The SHining reference. And there was another big movie ref that's escaping me.

That David Fury...

I'm working on a little L/R PWP that might just be fun... Here's the beginning:

"I have a plan."

"A plan?"

"Yeah, a plan."

Logan stared at Rogue across the pool table. "Tell me, genius, what's the plan?"

As he bent to take his shot, she said, "We go away for a weekend and we have sex."

The eight ball flew off the table and slammed into the wall as the cue ball ended up in the right corner pocket.

"Not funny, Rogue."

"I'm not kidding."

He leaned on the pool cue. "You and me go away for a weekend and have sex. And this does what exactly for us?"

"It solves the problem. I won't follow you around anymore like a wounded puppy. You won't growl at every guy I bring home and drive them all away so you can have me to yourself."

"You've been reading Cosmo again, haven't you," he said in resignation.

"Come on, Logan! The sexual tension between us is so thick you could cut it with a knife. I swear, sometimes just the way you look at me almost makes me come." He swallowed, her words making him hard. "Like that!" she continued, her voice triumphant. "Right now, you're picturing me naked, aren't you?"

"Marie--" He was annoyed to find that came out more as a whine than a growl.

She nodded in satisfaction. "I thought so." She cocked a hip and looked at him, lower lip pushed out in a pout that had been labeled adorable by more than one admirer. He returned her stare with a heated gaze of his own. "So, what do you say?"

That's all I've got so far.

So, what do *you* say?

~victoria
current music: "Runaway Train" Soul Asylum
mood: caffeinated



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The painting is "Boreas" by John William Waterhouse. Again, not a muse, but I like her. She suits the color scheme.

The quote is from Sir Philip Sidney.

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