a fool's musings

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

Warning: Adult Content achromatic unfinished fic graveyard recs journal new stuff recent stuff my back pages January 2004 December 2003 November 2003 October 2003 September 2003 August 2003 July 2003 June 2003 May 2003 April 2003 March 2003 February 2003 January 2003 December 2002 November 2002 October 2002 September 2002 August 2002 July 2002 June 2002 May 2002 April 2002 March 2002 February 2002 January 2002 December 2001 November 2001 the five Ws, or, all about me profile e-mail victoria my livejournal the original P&R comments current mood: "pathological and unbalanced" Items of Interest People LiveJournal folks Baraita bishclone claritylit Jintian Kat Allison Kit Mason metablog mix-tapes Neil Gaiman Nestra Sarah T. Seema Shrift Sundry Mourning zendom Music Walk On - U2 Thunder Road - Bruce Springsteen If I Can't Change Your Mind - Sugar Sick of Myself - Matthew Sweet Town Called Malice - The Jam One - U2 The Space Between - DMB Books Lord of the Rings Catch-22 The Neely Trilogy Absalom! Absalom! Possession: A Romance Foucault's Pendulum Dreamhouse LA Confidential I Capture the Castle Sandman Waking the Moon Shows Angel Buffy the Vampire Slayer (in reruns) Alias West Wing The Simpsons webrings < ? fanfiction ! > < ? writers ! > diaryreviews.diaryland.com NYC Bloggers Comments by Haloscan.com all links, if I haven't screwed up somehow, should open in a new browser window

2002-01-18 - 9:55 a.m. more hellish commuting tales Morning from hell today. Overslept by about 40 minutes. How is that possible? The alarm went off! I looked at the clock at 6:45 when it went off. And yet, there I was, still in bed, sleeping, at 7:30. Gaaack! Then I had the coughing fit that can only end in heaves, which hasn't happened in ages, and is never a good way to start the day. At least I didn't get the whole broken blood vessels under my eyes deal, which used to happen all the time. Then I get on the A train and there are no seats, since it's later than normal for me. Finally I walk through and find a seat. I say "Excuse me," and then "Thank you" when the guy scoots over to let me sit. He starts telling me about how he lost his leg in the 'Nam and how war is only ever started when the govt [which govt? Dunno. Maybe it's a conspiracy] wants to thin the population. Now, first off, I've got my headphones on, I'm not making eye contact, and this guy is still chattering away. What part of my body language said, "Please talk to me"? Arrgh. Secondly, thinning the population? It's gonna take a pretty big fracking war to do us any good at this point, and if you say anything about 9/11, I will offer the horrible but utilitarian thought that you know, if "They" want to cull the herd, cops, firemen and stockbrokers aren't exactly the ones they'd be getting rid of, you know? While this is going on, there's this young guy across the way who suddenly bolts from his seat to across the car [it was one of the grey ones with the long bench seats that face each other], holding his newspaper in front of his face, so he can toss his cookies in the doorway. While the train is still moving. I don't know how all those people stayed in that car. The smell was going to kill me. So I got up and moved to the next car at East New York. Cripes. People are wonderful, sure, but only from a distance. I think I need to become a hermit. Yeah, that's the ticket. At least I've got the walkman through all this. "Everlong" by Foo Fighters has to be one of the sexiest songs ever, especially the acoustic live version that's just Dave Grohl and his guitar... 'Breathe out, so I can breathe you in... hold you in" *swoon* Another really sexy, seductive line, "In you I taste God" from "Eye" by Smashing Pumpkins... Damn, I would melt if a guy said that to me under the right circumstances... <*snort*> Like that's going to happen any time soon. Oh well. At least it's Friday, and I have a three day weekend. Monday's MLK day. ~victoria [current mood: ] [current music: ] [random quote: ] ~*~ 2002-01-17 - 2:52 p.m. Day of Jubilee! Woohoo! Bring me the finest muffins and bagels in the land, for it is my Day of Jubilee! The fight is finished. Done. All she wrote. Of course, it's now going to get ripped apart by betas far and near, but that's okay, because I FINISHED IT! ::whooping can be heard:: Ahem. For those of you interested, here it be. Of course, it's basically exactly the same as it is in the movie, except the location is different. <*shrug*> Not real creative, I know, but I hate fight scenes. I fast forward through 'em after the first time, usually, unless the dialogue is exceptionally witty, or the moves are really, really cool. Like any Buffy/Faith fight is worth rewatching, and, of course, the whole of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. The fight in X-Men didn't interest me [Wolvie was clothed. Nothing good to see there], so I guess that apathy sort of translated itself to writing this scene, which was necessary, but not my forte. Enough chit chat... They're still not mine, sigh. I'd treat 'em real well if they were. Logan and Rogue would just be having sex all the time... and Scott would play guitar and occasionally strip on the side. *g* ~*~ Scott pulled out the little cell phone that came with the uniform. He realized it had no recognizable buttons or keypad. "Shit." He pressed the button on the side of the gizmo and was rewarded with a burst of static. "Great. Just great." He pushed through the crowd, amazed at how lax the security was. He could remember two, three years ago, when the police had cordoned off all but eight main entryways into Times Square and were out in force. Apparently, they'd once again grown complacent, just in time for another madman to wreak havoc on the city. <*Half an hour until midnight,*> he thought. <*Not a lot of time to find Rogue and save the world.*> Making his way through the throng was getting harder as he got closer to One Times Square, even as some of the people edged away when they saw him coming. He heard the muttered insults they cast at him as he pushed his way through. Finally, he was close to where he needed to be. He slipped down into the subway, jumped the turnstile, and walked underground until he was at the right exit. He came up inside the building, almost running into Logan's back where the Wolverine stood in the doorway. "I thought you were staying with the jet," Wolverine growled. "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 but said nothing. Then, 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 blatant 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 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 thirty flights of stairs so quickly and silently. They'd reached the landing on the thirty-fifth floor and were taking a short 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 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. Storm was up, floating above them on a cushion of wind. The scent of ozone filled the air. Toad turned and extended his tongue at her, but she was quicker. Her lightning struck him, and sizzled along the length of his tongue. While he was distracted and howling in pain, she called on the wind to lift and push him over the banister. He fell with a scream. They heard him land with a thud. Logan came rushing up the stairs, covered in scrapes and blood, his clothes torn. "The roof," he snapped. "We have to get to the roof." He pushed past them and hurried up. "Where the hell is Hank?" No one had an answer. They ascended in silence for a few moments, finally reaching the landing that would lead to the roof. Wolverine stopped dead and said, "Everybody get out of here." "What is it?" Storm asked. "I can't move." No sooner was he done speaking than he was slammed up against the wall. The banister took on a life of its own, the metal shrieking as it twisted into bonds to hold the X-Men immobile. Over the screech of the metal, Scott could just make out the sounds of someone screaming. He looked down and saw Hank, also trussed up in metal bonds, with large dark spots that must have been blood matting his fur. Magneto opened the door to the roof and came down the stairs, a genial smile on his face. "Ah, my brothers," he said. "Welcome." With the door open, Scott could now recognize that screaming voice as Rogue's. He struggled vainly against the metal bars trapping his arms at his sides. He noticed the strain on Logan's face and surmised the Canadian was struggling to get free as well. That was the last thing he saw. *** Up on the roof, Rogue struggled as Sabretooth and Larry strapped her into the machine. It consisted of a raised platform and encircled by two large metal rings. She screamed for help as they easily overpowered her. She reached out with her bare hands, but Sabretooth was too quick and Larry was covered from head to toe, a black ski mask covering his face now. "It's not that I don't want to touch you," he crooned in her ear while Sabretooth's back was turned, "but Magneto would be pissed if you got away." She shuddered, mind working desperately to come up with a way to escape even as they cuffed her hands to two waist-high poles that were topped with handholds. She wondered if there were something she could do, some way she could kill herself before the thing started and thwart their plans. That way, at least, she'd avoid being used again. The crowd on the street was noisy, and distracted her for a moment. She stared at the New York skyline, wondering if she'd still be alive when the ball above her dropped and the New Year came in. *** Sabretooth came through the door and nodded at Magneto. "You'd better close your eyes," Magneto said as Sabretooth reached out a large hand and removed Scott's visor. "And, you, let's point those claws of yours in a safer direction," Magneto continued, using his to make Wolverine's hands point towards his chest. "This is crazy, Erik," Jean began. Xavier was speaking through her, and he hoped his old lover could be convinced to abandon his plan. "Don't think you can dissuade me, Charles. Why do none of you understand what I'm trying to do? Those people down there, they control our fate and the fate of every other mutant. Well, soon our fate will be theirs." Rogue's panicked voice floated down to them over the noise of the crowd on the street. "Help! Please help me!" "You're so full of shit, bub. If you were really that righteous, it'd be you in that thing," Wolverine growled. "Help! Somebody help me!" "Rogue!" Scott yelled. Sabretooth cuffed him across the face, banging his head back into the wall, stunning him momentarily. For a second, nobody breathed, waiting to see if he would be able keep his eyes closed. One heartbeat, then two passed without Scott unleashing the full power of his optic beams, and everyone exhaled in relief. The brief interval of commonality was over. Magneto frowned, looking between Logan and Scott. "I'm sorry about the girl, but this is far more important." He reached out to Logan and drew the dog tags over his head, tossing them to Sabretooth. "I believe you asked for these, Victor?" Sabretooth bared his teeth in a mockery of smile as he dropped the chain over his head. Magneto turned and headed up to the roof. They could hear Rogue calling for help. Sabretooth growled softly and Logan responded in kind, but then Sabretooth turned away and began taunting Storm. "You and I have some unfinished business, girlie," he purred, stroked one long, clawed finger down her cheek. Logan recognized his chance and took it. With a grunt, he extended his claws, cutting through the metal bonds, and in the process, his chest, freeing himself. Jean looked at him, shocked. "Logan!" He fell to the ground, unmoving. *** Rogue sat silent and pale, willing herself not to cry. She wouldn't show weakness again. They could kill her, but she swore they wouldn't break her. Magneto walked over and, with a gesture, forced her to stand, the metal cuffs chaining her to the podium rising and threatening to pull her arms off if she didn't. "Please don't do this," was all she said as he approached. "I am sorry, my dear," Magneto replied. His tone conveyed regret even as he reached out to cup her face with his bare hands. As she felt the connection open, Rogue began crying, at the end unable to keep up the stoic pretense. She was overwhelmed with Erik's sense of purpose, his bitterness at how the world had treated him, and the fear that America would soon turn into a twenty-first century version of Nazi Germany, with mutants replacing Jews in government-sanctioned concentration camps. *** Wolverine lay on the landing, unmoving. He could feel Sabretooth walking over to him, hear his purr of consideration. He kept his eyes closed until he felt Sabretooth lift him. As he rose, he unloosed his claws, stabbing Sabretooth in the chest. Roaring in pain and anger, Sabretooth flung Logan through the door to the roof. Logan rolled and rose smoothly into a fighting crouch, his self-inflicted wounds already healing. The two men were evenly matched, trading blows that would have rendered most people unconscious as Logan attempted to reach Rogue and Sabretooth blocked his efforts. Using a claw, Logan pulled his dog tags from around Creed's neck. "This is mine." Sabretooth merely grinned and leapt, grabbing Logan in a chokehold. "Don't matter runt. I'll take 'em back when you're dead." With a sharp thrust of his hip as he jerked forward, Wolverine managed to throw Sabretooth to the roof. Following up on his advantage, Logan leaned over and stabbed Sabretooth again. Rogue's screams rent the night as Magneto poured his power into her, audible only to those up on the roof, as the crowd in Times Square began counting down to the New Year. It was clear enough to Logan, though, and he half turned, drawn by the sound of Rogue's anguish, enabling Sabretooth to launch a kick that sent him tumbling off the edge of the roof. Only quick use of his claws, sunk into a cornice, saved him from hitting the ground at a rate that would probably have killed even him. Magneto fell back, weakened from his contact with Rogue. The machine began to rise; a white glow emanated from it, which obscured the light from the Waterford crystal ball descending behind it, signaling the beginning of a new year. Sabretooth, thinking his enemy defeated, jumped back down inside the building. He once again returned to Storm. Baring his teeth, he said, "Now where were we?" Behind him, Wolverine came down the stairs. "Hey, bub. I'm not finished with you yet." As he strode toward Sabretooth, he was in frantic communication with Jean. ~I've got Scott's visor. When I give the word, take it and put it on him.~ ~Okay. Are you--~ "Jean," Logan barked. "Scott, when I tell you, open your eyes," she said. Scott shook his head violently. "No." "Trust me," she implored, repeating it silently, ~Trust me,~ and visualizing what she and Logan were going to do. She passed his silent acquiescence to Logan, who raised the visor and said, "You drop something?" Jean gripped it telekinetically and brought it up to Scott's eyes. "Now," she commanded. Scott opened his eyes, shooting Sabretooth squarely in the chest. The big blond mutant went through the wall, falling out of the building. Wolverine cut the others free. "Thanks," Scott began. "Don't mention it," Logan replied shortly. Magneto's mutation machine began to whine loudly, competing with Rogue's screams. The X-Men rushed up the stairs to the roof to see what was happening. Logan's voice was urgent. "We gotta get her out of there. Cyclops, can you hit it?" "The rings are moving to fast." "Just shoot it," Logan demanded. "I'll kill her." Logan made his decision. "I'm going in." They all stared at him. "Logan, we don't know what that thing could do to you--" Jean began. He cut her off. "Someone's got to. At least I'll heal. And if I don't make it, then you can still blast the damn thing and save everyone else." Storm nodded. "All right. Do it." Wolverine leapt with a grace surprising in a man weighed down by a hundred pounds of heavy metal, land landed on top of the machine. The nimbus of light flowing from the machine extended toward the crowd below, which had begun to panic at the sight of it. Wolverine jumped down to Rogue, claws extended to cut her loose. Magneto managed to keep his hold on consciousness and somehow found the strength to immobilize Logan. Scott's hand rose to his visor. "Come on, Logan," he muttered. Jean closed her eyes, focusing her power on Magneto, trying to deflect his attention from Logan. Holding Scott's hand in a viselike grip, she battled silently with the old master of magnetism. Logan was also fighting as hard as he could, the strain of his struggle visible in the lines of his face and the set of his body. His arms moved almost imperceptibly toward the spinning rings surrounding Rogue. The white light spilled from the rooftop, creating a sea of luminescence that reached out to engulf the people closest to the building. "The crowd is in danger," Storm said. "Scott, take the shot." "No!" Jean interrupted. "Scott, wait." As Logan inched his way closer, he could see tears streaming down Rogue's cheeks, smell the fear and desperation that filled her. He watched as her hair began turning white before his eyes, framing her face in platinum. He had to save her, or the whole night would be meaningless. It was his fault she was up there, screaming. He tuned out the panicked sounds of the crowd, stampeding away from the ever-widening nimbus of white light radiating from the top of the building. He stood, frozen, as Magneto used the last of his considerable -- and unexpected -- strength to hold his metal-boned body in place. With an effort of will stronger than even he knew he possessed, Logan dug deep and urged his body to move. It didn't work, though he nearly passed out from the strain. He was going to fail. He'd promised to protect her, and he was going to fail. It was unacceptable, but it was true. "Scott," Storm commanded. "Just wait," Jean countered. Scott watched, torn between saving the people below and saving Rogue. Magneto rose, reaching out with his hand to hold Logan back, giving Scott the angle he needed to hit Magneto without harming either Logan or Rogue. "I have a shot," he said. "I'm taking it." The red beam shot from his eyes and he hit Magneto easily, laying the old man flat out on the roof. The release of the hold on him almost sent Wolverine to his knees, but he used the forward momentum to propel himself at the machine, plunging his claws into it, destroying it in a cacophony of shrieking metal and flashing lights. The white light dissipated as rapidly as it had appeared. Rogue collapsed, her hands stuck to the metal posts that had drained the life out of her. Logan slashed at the cuffs around her wrists and lifted her in his arms. She didn't move, didn't breathe. He couldn't hear her heart beat. "Come on," he whispered. "Come on, kid." He slipped a gloved hand in the funnel of her turtleneck, but no pulse beat beneath his fingers. "Shit, Marie. Don't do this," he muttered. "Don't you dare die on me. Don't let the bastards win." There was no response. He slid one finger over the blinding white lock the machine had burned into her hair, and it came to him. Her skin. Using his teeth, he peeled off his glove and laid his hand flat against her forehead, then slid it down to cup her cheek. Nothing. "Dammit, Rogue," he growled. "I'm more stubborn than you are." And he kissed her, dragging his lips across her forehead, her temple, each delicate eyelid, and down the curve of her jaw. Suddenly, as he covered her lips with his own, in some mockery of CPR, he felt his skin begin to tingle, and then it burned as if someone had injected him with acid. He felt himself pouring into her -- heart, soul, mind and strength. His wounds, which had begun to heal, reopened, and he heard her gasp as her heart kicked into gear and her lungs began pumping air again. Her eyes snapped open, horrified, and she pushed at him. "What? What are you doing? Are you insane?" she raged as he toppled over. She dropped to her knees beside him, crying, "Too much. Too much. Oh, God, it was too much." And he passed out and knew no more. *** So there you have it. Ten pages of misery. If you've got suggestions etc, you know the drill. E me. And yeah, I really do like this diary business. And you have to keep coming back, because I update so frequently and god forbid you miss out on any of the excitement that's created by my randomly firing synapses. <*smirk*> Just scarfed down my lunch - 5 mozzarella sticks, a handful of onion rings [the real kind, not the frozen kind] and a Krispy Kreme cream donut. I'm still hungry, dammit! I think it's my sense of accomplishment that's making me hungry. Yeah, that's it. ~victoria current mood: jubilant current music: I Want You to Want Me - Cheap Trick [current mood: ] [current music: ] [random quote: ] ~*~ previous - next DiaryLand Disclaimer: Reading this diary is not required by law. If you do not like or agree with the contents herein, or find them to be offensive on more than one occasion, please go elsewhere and don't come back. Management is not responsible for any adverse reactions to content within. The painting is "Boreas" by John William Waterhouse. Again, not a muse, but I like her. She suits the color scheme. 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