a fool's musings
Fool, said my muse to me,
look in thy heart and write...
Warning: Adult Content
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10.17.03 - 3:21 p.m.
lyrics spam!
Crimson flames tied through my ears
Rollin' high and mighty traps
Pounced with fire on flaming roads
Using ideas as my maps
"We'll meet on edges, soon," said I
Proud 'neath heated brow.
Ah, but I was so much older then,
I'm younger than that now.
Half-wracked prejudice leaped forth
"Rip down all hate," I screamed
Lies that life is black and white
Spoke from my skull. I dreamed
Romantic facts of musketeers
Foundationed deep, somehow.
Ah, but I was so much older then,
I'm younger than that now.
Girls' faces formed the forward path
From phony jealousy
To memorizing politics
Of ancient history
Flung down by corpse evangelists
Unthought of, though, somehow.
Ah, but I was so much older then,
I'm younger than that now.
A self-ordained professor's tongue
Too serious to fool
Spouted out that liberty
Is just equality in school
"Equality," I spoke the word
As if a wedding vow.
Ah, but I was so much older then,
I'm younger than that now.
In a soldier's stance, I aimed my hand
At the mongrel dogs who teach
Fearing not that I'd become my enemy
In the instant that I preach
My pathway led by confusion boats
Mutiny from stern to bow.
Ah, but I was so much older then,
I'm younger than that now.
Yes, my guard stood hard when abstract threats
Too noble to neglect
Deceived me into thinking
I had something to protect
Good and bad, I define these terms
Quite clear, no doubt, somehow.
Ah, but I was so much older then,
I'm younger than that now.
***
17 Again
~Eurythmics
Yay though we venture through
The Valley of the stars
You and all your jewelry
And my bleeding heart
Who couldn't be together
And who could not be apart
We should’ve jumped out
Of that airplane after all
Flying skyways overhead
It wasn’t hard to fall
And I had so many crashes
That I couldn't feel
At all...
And it feels like
I’m seventeen again
Feels like I’m seventeen
Times might break you
God forsake you
Leave you burned and bruised
Innocence will teach you
What it feels like to be used
Thought that you’d done everything
You didn’t have a clue
And it feels like
I’m seventeen again
Feels like I’m seventeen
Looking from the outside in
Some things never change
Hey hey I'm a million miles away
Funny how it seems like yesterday ...
All those fake celebrities
And all those viscous queens
All the stupid papers
And the stupid magazines
Sweet dreams are made of anything
That gets you in the scene
And it feels like
I’m seventeen again
Feels like I’m seventeen
Sweet dreams are made of this
Who am I to disagree
I travel the world and the seven seas
Everybody's looking for something
Yeah
***
That's my Remus/Sirius soundtrack for the day. *g*
~victoria
link
[current mood: bored]
[current music: Don't Fear the Reaper - Blue Oyster Cult]
[random quote: the seasons don't fear the reaper, nor do the wind, the sun and the rain]
~*~
10.16.03 - 3:37 p.m.
fic snip: younger than that now
They're playing "I Shot the Sheriff."
I think this is a hint that I have less than ten days to write my Two Lines Challenge fic, and I still have no idea what I'm going to write.
*snerk*
This is what I'm working on instead:
Younger Than That Now
Remus Lupin is thirty-five years old. He can count how many times he’s been in love on one hand, and still have two fingers left to flip off Snape when he comes around.
So he’s pretty sure he should be forgiven for pulling away in shock when the person he’s been in love with the longest -- the one with whom he’s never had a chance -- kisses him one night while they’re doing the dishes.
He jerks away, spraying them both with water.
“What are you doing?” he asks, more surprised than angry.
Sirius looks at him sheepishly. “I thought, I mean, you-- you fancy men, right? That hasn’t changed?”
Remus blinks.
“No. Yes. I mean, yes, I do, and no, it hasn’t.”
“Give us a kiss then, Moony.” Sirius leans in, breath minty fresh and sliding over Remus’s lips like a warm breeze.
Remus flashes back to seventh year, Sirius teasing him about being a poof, mincing about and blowing kisses at him. Remus shoves him lightly. “Cut it out, Sirius.”
Sirius cuffs his shoulder. “Oi! Not good enough for the Professor, am I?”
It’s surreal, the way past and present are merging in Remus’s brain; the playful touches, the banter -- this could be any of a thousand nights they’ve spent together, at Hogwarts, at Sirius’s flat, at Godric’s Hollow -- but it’s not. The house never lets Remus forget, even when he manages to overlook the wasted grandeur of Sirius’s once-handsome face, or can’t feel the years weighing down his own scrawny body.
“I don’t blame you,” Sirius mutters, and the faint edge of bitterness breaks through Remus’s reverie, cuts through him like a stiletto.
He’s tempted to lecture, but Sirius has never responded well to lectures and Remus has had his fill of giving them in the two months they’ve been at Grimmauld Place. With the kids off to Hogwarts and the Weasleys back at the Burrow, he and Sirius have to come to some sort of peace with the past, with each other.
Sirius opens his mouth and Remus can already hear the diatribe he’s going to unleash. There’s only one way to stop it, he tells himself. And for a second, he lets himself believe that.
He kisses Sirius, open-mouthed, tasting mint and a hint of dinner and something uniquely Sirius, tangy and addictive on first contact.
***
I'm not sure how this is going to go from here, but as I said, I wanted to see if I could write them as not having been sexually involved until after Azkaban, and I'm trying.
I have to figure Sirius out, because I don't want to do fanon cliche playboy!Sirius, but he does seem the type to have messed around with people rather than dating monogamously.
Of course, I also think Remus probably has quite a bit of experience under his belt, so to speak, from the time right after the Potters died and Sirius was arrested. He had the sex, drugs and rock-n-roll lifestyle for a bit, though I don't think he did a lot of drugs, being too afraid of that loss of control.
So I'm not sure how this is going to play out. They're both men, not 15yo girls. Which is why I love them so. Sigh.
~victoria
link
[current mood: thoughtful and sleepy]
[current music: Time of the Season - the Zombies]
[random quote: what's your name? who's your daddy? is he rich like me?]
~*~
10.15.03 - 9:44 a.m.
xover drabbles!
I've been neglecting the diary shamefully.
I have a feeling that once my paid time runs out, I'll not renew, and spend most of my time posting in the LJ, even though it can be utterly infuriating sometimes.
Anyhow, my hp100 entries, for the crossover challenge:
Sunday in the Park with Barnabas
Every day for a week after Sirius died, Remus went to the park with a bottle of firewhisky and two sandwiches. He sat on a bench, drank, and fed a stray dog that reminded him of Padfoot.
The dog demanded nothing, which was good, because Remus had nothing left to give.
On Sunday morning, he was feeding the dog when a redheaded man and a girl with multicolored hair approached.
"Barnabas!" the girl exclaimed, hugging the dog.
"We've been looking for you," the man said.
"Me?" Remus asked.
"No, me," Barnabas said. "Thanks for the food."
Remus never drank again.
~*~
Welcome to Mutant High
After class Remus's first day, some of the students gathered around his desk.
"So, what's your mutation?" Jubilee asked.
"My what?"
"Mutation. You know." She waggled her fingers, generating sparks, then indicated the girl with two-tone hair. "Rogue has life-sucking skin." Rogue smiled shyly. "And we don't call Bobby 'Iceman' 'cause he's cool." Bobby reached out a hand, formed a perfect sphere of ice on Remus's desk.
Dumbledore hadn't mentioned that the "gifted" in the school's name was literal.
Remus grinned and pointed his wand. "Mobilicorpus."
Rogue rose off the ground, giggling. "Cool!"
Remus thought he might fit in here.
~*~
Exes
Remus doesn't know what possessed him. A desire for conversation with someone who can look him in the eye, a conversation where Sirius's name will never come up, so it doesn't matter that no one will say it.
"How've you been?"
"I'm well. I'm to be the new librarian at a school in California."
"Congratulations."
They drink in awkward silence, until Remus can't take it anymore. He stands, drops money on the table.
"Take care, Rupert. Be well."
"You, too," Giles replies.
Calling ex-lovers to mourn dead ones is even less comfort than expected. Remus won't be doing it again.
end
***
Also, Mother Knows Best is up in the LJ.
You know, for all of the talk about how everybody loves angst and drama, and how fluff is just stupid and unworthy, I have gotten an incredible amount of feedback over the past 18 hours or so for this story, a story that is clearly farce. Well, not quite farce, but broad comedy. I mean, honestly, *what* are the odds that Molly would be trying to gayify Bill and set him up with Remus? But it was just too much fun to write once I got started, and jealous!Sirius is quickly becoming one of my favorite things to write, because Remus just laughs and laughs at him, and Remus laughing is like my favorite thing in the fictional world right now.
Also, is it clear in the XMM drabble up there that Remus is *teaching*? I don't want anyone thinking I bollixed up the timelines. originally there was a line about the kids not warming up to Ivanhoe, so he's surprised they stay after class, but that got cut in the ruthless drive toward 100 words. Of course, in the original of the Sandman one, the sandwiches are ham, there are children on the swings, and Destruction actually converses with Remus, so... And it *killed* me to cut the ham detail, but those nuances have to go sometimes. I mean, there's no harm in being a word or five over in a drabble, but for hp100 purposes, making 100 words is key, if only because I feel terrible that Gryffindor always loses. Somehow it became cool to be Slytherin and now Gryffindor is the underdog in fannish circles, in a complete reversal of canon.
Which may just be an explanation of fandom in a nutshell.
Heh.
I also started a new R/S fic last night, with their first kiss taking place at 12GP. Yeah, I know. I want to see if I can do it, if I can believe that's how it happened...
I know some of you believe it never happened at all, but joint Christmas presents, living together, it's all there! In the text!
You know it, I know it, the American people know it. Theirloveissocanon! *sniffle*
I'm just gonna go now, and be sad for Remus.
~victoria
link
[current mood: headachy]
[current music: Fool in the Rain - Zeppelin]
[random quote: Josh: \"You like winning, don’t you?\" Toby: \"Saves you from having to say please.\"]
~*~
10.13.03 - 3:59 p.m.
BRAD (without you, I'm nothing)
They've just played:
Closer (*the* post-Azkaban Sirius song)
Freak on a Leash
Disarm *and* Bullet with Butterfly Wings
Jeremy
You Know You're Right
Behind Blue Eyes (another *perfect* Sirius song; even if it was the awful Limp Bizkit remake that doesn't include half the damn song!)
Going Underthat relatively new Foo Fighters song I never remember the name of Times Like These*G*
Sigh.
I need to write a nasty!bastard!Sirius fic, but... I just can't. I know he is sometimes, but meh...
In other news, I updated the site: Exes - a BtVS/HP crossover drabble (spoilery for OotP) and Speaking in Tongues, a porny Sirius/Remus fic based on this poem:
Bring us no candle-light at dark
Because the moon-face of our love is full.
We worship wine and pour our vows, and it is
Against my law to be without your face...
...In our assembly bring no rose perfumes,
We breathe the fragrance of your long hair.
Do not praise to me the taste of sugar,
For my desire is satisfied on your sweet lip.
by Hafiz, Iranian lyric poet, translated by R. M. Rehdar
Isn't that just *gorgeous*? (The poem, not my story.)
Today is Beta Reader Appreciation Day, so thank so much to Meg, Pete'n'Melissa, Dot and Jen for being constants over the last three years (!?) in my quest for improvement in writing. Thanks also to everyone else who's helped out - DD, Bethy, MaidenJedi, Jenn, Pru, Gail, Bow, Katta, Rana, Peggy, Jengrrrl, Laura Smith, Naomi Chana, Sarah T., Leslie, Mom *G* (yes, my mother was my first beta. Shut up.) um... I know there have been others - hugs and kisses and big huge thanks for helping when I needed it.
Dear god, I should *never* have gotten regular coffee at lunch. I've got the shakes, man.
~victoria
link
[current mood: caffeinated]
[current music: Give It Away +RHCP]
[random quote: I just need a hand that I can hold onto When it's darker than death out there. \"Make It Go Away\" - Holly Cole]
~*~
10.12.03 - 7:33 p.m.
October 2003 WsIP Roundup
Happy Anniversary, Mommy and Daddy!
Also, I forgot to mention that 10/3 was my one year anniversary in this apartment I adore so much and would marry if, you know, it were a guy and not an apartment.
After the movie last night (went to see School of Rock with Leslie and Doris - liked it a lot), we attempted to go to the Bar Around the Corner, which was packed. I mean, packed, like not an inch to spare.
So we went to the Bar Across the Street, instead, which was slightly less crowded.
We caught the end of the Yanks-Sox game (the reason for all the crowding) and saw footage of the brawl. What in hell was Zimmer doing charging Martinez? And how the hell do you not pull back and not knock over the 70 year old man?
::shakes head::
I'm rooting for the Cubs. That's all I know.
Someone behind us had way too much cologne on, because I ended up with the Headache From Hell. It was the kind of headache that nauseates you, because it's so relentless and sharp behind your eyes. I cut the evening short because of it, and even ended up getting offline after only about half an hour so I could curl up and whimper in pain all by myself.
I slept a lot, which was good, and made the pain go away.
Today, I meant to do a lot of things, wound up watching the Giants suck ass, and didn't get much done. Then this stupid thing with AT&T having trouble with the phonelines made reading my flist an excruciatingly slow experience. I did manage to code some more pages for the Unfit site redesign, but man, I get really irritated and distracted when I can't get my email. It sort of takes over everything and nothing else gets done.
Right now I'm on through a Queens number, and I know I can connect using a LI number, so later if I have to, I'll do that.
But now I'm trying to write. After all that talk of me not being able to write Sirius/Remus PWP, I'm writing *another one*.
That'll be three, counting Speaking in Tongues, which I have yet to post the final version of. I still have Stealing Joy feedback to answer and I try not to post anything new until I've answered feedback from the last thing. Though that doesn't always work. And I have Mollyfic ready to go, I think. I'm just sitting on it for some reason.
In Vino Veritas - I know what I want to happen, it's just a question of getting the ball rolling.
Remember to Breathe - I need to sit and write and not think about the other versions of the story.
Last Full Measure - again, less thinking, more writing.
Nightswimming fic - I just need to write.
Rust Never Sleeps - Forever-like story. I think I may be starting this too early in the story - I need to get the ball rolling, get Harry into that little occult bookstore discreetly hidden between the pharmacy and the children's clothing shop in Little Whinging, let him get his hands on some candles and some fake magic that may just be covering up real magic...
Sirius in Sunnydale - WHY can't I write this? It works in my head, but on paper... urk...
Dogstar Detective Agency - another one I just need to pay attention to.
Green-Eyed Monster - I have to think about Ginny here, and what motivates her to go along - is it vanity? Pride? Anger? Because she's not stupid, so what does she think she's doing?
Yeah, I think I have a full plate of WsIP that I want to write, but can't seem to manage atm. I hate that.
Sigh.
~victoria
link
[current mood: tired and frustrated]
[current music: Treason - Velvet Chain]
[random quote: “Work is the curse of the drinking classes.” Oscar Wilde]
~*~
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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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