it's alright, you can afford to lose a day or two

Little Damn Table I : Susan/Lobsang from Discworld

Fri, 06 Oct 2006 10:44:09 GMT

Here it is, my Little Damn Table for fanfic100.

♥ Name of the Fandom: Discworld
♥ What you are claiming: The pairing of Susan Sto Helit and Lobsang Ludd
♥ What your fandom is: A book series.

001.	Beginnings.	002.	Middles.	003.	Ends.	004.	Insides.	005.	Outsides.
006.	Hours.	007.	Days.	008.	Weeks.	009.	Months.	010.	Years.
011.	Red.	012.	Orange.	013.	Yellow.	014.	Green.	015.	Blue.
016.	Purple.	017.	Brown.	018.	Black.	019.	White.	020.	Colourless.
021.	Friends.	022.	Enemies.	023.	Lovers.	024.	Family.	025.	Strangers.
026.	Teammates.	027.	Parents.	028.	Children.	029.	Birth.	030.	Death.
031.	Sunrise.	032.	Sunset.	033.	Too Much.	034.	Not Enough.	035.	Sixth Sense.
036.	Smell.	037.	Sound.	038.	Touch.	039.	Taste.	040.	Sight.
041.	Shapes.	042.	Triangle.	043.	Square.	044.	Circle.	045.	Moon.
046.	Star.	047.	Heart.	048.	Diamond.	049.	Club.	050.	Spade.
051.	Water.	052.	Fire.	053.	Earth.	054.	Air.	055.	Spirit.
056.	Breakfast.	057.	Lunch.	058.	Dinner.	059.	Food.	060.	Drink.
061.	Winter.	062.	Spring.	063.	Summer.	064.	Fall.	065.	Passing.
066.	Rain.	067.	Snow.	068.	Lightening.	069.	Thunder.	070.	Storm.
071.	Broken.	072.	Fixed.	073.	Light.	074.	Dark.	075.	Shade.
076.	Who?	077.	What?	078.	Where?	079.	When?	080.	Why?
081.	How?	082.	If.	083.	And.	084.	He.	085.	She.
086.	Choices.	087.	Life.	088.	School.	089.	Work.	090.	Home.
091.	Birthday.	092.	Christmas.	093.	Thanksgiving.	094.	Independence.	095.	New Year.
096.	Writer‘s Choice.	097.	Writer‘s Choice.	098.	Writer‘s Choice.	099.	Writer‘s Choice.	100.	Writer‘s Choice.

Tue, 12 Sep 2006 23:27:42 GMT

Back after hiatus. Summer got in the way, with the wonderfully crack-a-licious summercamps (I was promoted this year! Head of studies, second-in-command and direct responsible for all the kiddies. Also, bigger salary).

Broke up with R and got back with him again. I love him. I'm not in love with him. I thought this was forever. Fuck it, I feel 16 again. More on that later.

Have met A at summercamp. Sweet, fun. Makes me giddy. Also 8 years older than 22-year-old self. Shouldn't it bother me? It does.

Never got around to writing my 200 fics for fanfic100, goddammit. I started like 25 of them and never finished any. I need to push myself harder when it comes to writing.

Had a delicious crack-versation with banned scum seoinage (hey there!) over at fandom_wank which got me all excited about Ender's Game again. Alai/Ender FOREVER!

Starting uni again on the 2nd. Feel up to hard work this year. I'll be able to really push myself, as I've quit teaching at the school. Aitor was heart-broken. So glad I never have to see his ugly mug again. :) I'll major in journalism if it's the last thing I do!

Watched friend dig himself into a hole trying to come on to other friend, last saturday. Allan, sweetheart, you've been ignoring/adoring her for two months now. Make up your fucking mind and don't act all offended when she gets fed up with your indecision and passive-agressiveness and makes out with hot irishman, friend of A's.

Tue, 14 Mar 2006 12:42:37 GMT

Um. Writer's block, I laugh in your face! Your father was a hamster and your mother smelled of elderberries!

Not really, but after many years in the Harry Potter fandom (many years cringing at the wank, often) I finally managed to finish my first R/S fic. Which is kind of important, because it means I CAN WRITE AGAIN. After 5+ years of writer's block (thank you, first fucking love, I'll always cherish your memory and hope I broke your heart as bad as you broke mine, kthxbye) I'm starting and finishing stories. I'm getting ideas.

Hope is not lost yet, even if I'm still a purple prose writer. :)

Anywhoo, here it is. I posted it to RemusxSirius and I'll be biting my nails until somebody comments. I hope my English didn't fail me too badly. I teach it for a living, but if you take a look around Spain that actually isn't much of a guarantee for somebody actually being good at English. Also, woo-hoo! Weird formatting and stream-of-consciousness. Fighting writer's block the hardcore way, indeed.

Hello! I've only ever commented on this lovely comm... And now I've finished my first R/S fic, so I thought I'd post it. I'm a bit nervous, there are so many talented artists and writers here!

Also, introducing a Sirius!Kink: Cello!Sirius. Men who play classical music are sex-ay. And our pups are a bit fucked up. Anyway, I hope you like it! Please comment honestly, I can take it.

Title: Glissando
Rating: PG-13 for swearing and mentions of sex (actually, one mention)
Warnings: Sometimes delves into stream-of-consciousness style. Also, wonky formatting on purpose. :)
Disclaimer: They are not mine. They're JK's.
Feedback: Is sought after. Concrit is inmensely appreciated! I'm not a native English speaker so I want to improve my writing. :)
Summary: Sirius played the cello. Remus broke. 910 words.
Author's Notes: Cello!Sirius, my new kink.

You said you liked your cello to sound as anguished as possible, so you’d pull the bow until it was tight enough to make the instrument cry out. The polished horsehairs tight enough to cut, you’d brush it against the strings ever-so-gently, ever-so-slowly, caressing a whispered C out of the cello. Then you’d breathe in for an instant. You’d let the almost non-existent note linger, cling to my ear in desperate persistence, and die a futile, stillborn death. Eyes tightly closed, I’d glimpse a brief tightening of your jaw and—

and you’d release the bow, your arm gripping it violently, passionately back and forth in a growing staccato. Your body would sway along with every stroke, each A minor drawing you closer to an unknown edge. One, two, three drops of sweat I’d count, I’d search for them, I’d witness their birth and follow them along the furrowed eyebrow, across the closed eyelid, between the thick, silky lashes—

some would get caught there, along with my breath—

down the side of the regal nose, so close now, so close to that place, my place, where I’d once told you I’d probably live my whole life. When they got there, the quivering cupid’s bow over narrowly parted lips, everything would seem to come to a halt—

your hands, my life—

and only the music would remain, filling my head like a fever and pounding away with such delectable violence that I thought I might break. You’d look so far beyond my reach by then that I could’ve drowned. So perfectly alone you were, alone and self-sufficient, just needing the bow in your left, the cello in your right and the nut softly pressed against your cheek—

it shouldn’t have been there, the nut should’ve been well beyond your head, your mother would’ve gotten you a bigger, better cello had not your growth spurt come after your disinheritance, my foolish, beautiful Sirius—

so perfectly alone I’d realise that if I didn’t reach out to grab your hand and stop that hateful bow it wouldn’t be you who’d disappear, but me, I’d dissolve in the delirious, sweet, cruel melody that was you, pure, unadulterated you, you without the thousand little tics and masks and half-smiles and rules of decorum which your family had wedged so deep between your skin and your bones you’d probably—

I’m so sorry, dearest, you can’t even begin to understand how sorry I am—

you’d probably never break free. And you’d look so beautiful, Sirius, so painfully angelic that I could never bring myself to slap your hand away from the cello. I wish I’d been able to. I wish I’d had the guts to slam that blasted thing onto the ground. But I couldn’t, I wouldn’t be able to move, to talk, to whimper even, so breath-taking you’d look. Sad, hopeless wreck that I was, all that I’d do—

all I could do—

would be to stare at you and let your music—

you—

ravage me, rip my essence out and leave nothing.

Some eternities later you’d stop playing, the music would cease and the mood would be broken at last. And in breaking it you’d finally give me the chance to slowly pull myself together and rebuild my existence. Never fast enough, for your face would go from cloudy to ridiculously real in less than seconds, your Black-grin would take over and you’d oh-so-casually remark

stop staring, you girl, you silly ponce

as if you hadn’t been tearing my life apart, as if I was some annoying, stuttering, dribbling fly buzzing around your mighty, manly being.

You never knew it, you dumb fuck, but I could do your mother’s voice better than she could, and I bit my tongue every single time not to answer in a manner to break your fucking heart once and for all, not to fuck your mind in a way even your cruel, pathetic, in-bred family couldn’t even have dreamed of. I bit my tongue and I never smacked you down as you so deserved, you bastard, not only because of the kisses I could never fully give in to, nor the occasional clumsily tender fucks against the wall, the infirmary door, the cold tiled shower, the greenhouse, the cupboard.

I loved you, you utter berk, and I bit my lip because sometimes you’d give in and break a little bit and bring your trembling hand down the side of my face as if you were testing the tautness of the chords and I’d moan softly and you’d bite your lower lip as you did when you couldn’t manage the glissando for Song of the Birds and you’d almost break my ribs with your sudden embrace, your left arm sinewy and hand rough from the bow, right arm firm and steady, and you’d break down, you’d bawl like a baby, sputtering nonsense, tears snot spit all over my shirt, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m so sorry would be all I’d make out, and I’d also be so sorry then, so sorry to have been tempted to do your mother’s voice in you, to spit out all the bile I always bit back, it wasn’t your fault, dearest, it wasn’t, I’d try to give in to your kisses, I promised I would, beloved, you didn’t laugh when I called you beloved and it should have made me happy but it didn’t. If only you didn’t hurt, my love,

if only you didn’t hurt

Fighting writer's block the hardcore way

Fri, 17 Feb 2006 11:56:31 GMT

Gah!

I've gone and submitted a claim to fanfic100. Actually, not one, but two.

♥ Name of the Fandom: Discworld series
♥ What you are claiming: The pairing of Susan Sto Helit and Lobsang Ludd
♥ What your fandom is: A book series.

♥ Name of the Fandom: Rurouni Kenshin
♥ What you are claiming: The pairing of Megumi Takani and Sanosuke 'Zanza' Sagara
♥ What your fandom is: Manga and TV show.

I was pondering for the longest time on whether to choose Granny Weatherwax/Mustrum Ridcully instead of Susan/Lobsang. After all, I've written them before, unlike Susan/Lobsang. And what came out is probably my best fic, or at least the one I've felt happiest about. Oh well. Better focus on these 200 (if I get them! I hope I do!) and then work on more stuff. :)

Ah, Rurouni Kenshin... Almost my first fandom. That brings back memories... :) And Megumi/Sano, my original OTP. Le sigh.

Thu, 16 Feb 2006 19:09:33 GMT

The 120 Marriages of Joseph and Sarah L

The young couple first married on August 5, 1744, when Joseph was eight and Sarah six, and first ended their marriage six days later when Joseph refused to believe, to Sarah's frustration, that the stars were silver nails in the sky, pinning up the black nightscape. They remarried four days later, when Joseph left a note under the door of Sarah's parents' house: I have considered everything you told me, and I do believe that the stars are silver nails. They ended their marriage again a year later, when Joseph was nine and Sarah seven, over a quarrel about the nature of the bottom of the river Brod. A week later, they were remarried, including this time in their vows that they should love each other until death, regardless of the existence of the river bed, the temperature of the river bed's bottom (should it exist), and the possible existence of starfish on the possibly existing river bed. They ended their marriage one hundred and twenty times throughout their lives and each time remarried with a longer list of vows. They were sixty and fifty-eight at their last marriage, only three weeks before Sarah died of heart failure and Joseph drowned himself in the bath. Their marriage contract still hangs over the door of the house they on-and-off shared-nailed to the top post and brushing against the SHALOM welcome mat:

"It is with everlasting devotion that we, Joseph and Sarah L, reunite in the indestructible union of matrimony, promising love until death, with the understanding that the stars are silver nails in the sky, regardless of the existence of the bottom of the river, the temperature of this bottom (should it exist) and the possible existence of starfish on the possibly existing riverbed, overlooking what may or may not have been accidental grape juice spills, agreeing to forget that Joseph played sticks and balls with his friends when he promised he would help Sarah thread the needle for the quilt she was sewing, and that Sarah was supposed to give the quilt to Joseph, not his buddy, ignoring the simple fact that Joseph snores like a pig, and that Sarah is no great treat to sleep with either, letting slide certain tendencies of both parties to look too long at members of the opposite sex, not making a fuss over why Joseph is such a slob, leaving his clothes wherever he feels like taking them off, expecting Sarah to pick them up, clean them, and put them in their proper place as he should have, or why Sarah has to be such a pain about the smallest things, such as which way the toilet paper unrolls, or when dinner is five minutes later than she was planning, because, let's face it, it's Joseph who's putting that paper on the roll and dinner on the table, disregarding whether the beet is a better vegetable that the cabbage, putting aside the problems of being fat-headed and chronically unreasonable, trying to erase the memory of a long since expired rose bush that a certain someone was supposed to remember to water when his wife was visiting family, accepting the compromise of the way we have been, the way we are, and the way we will likely be. May we live together in unwavering love and good health. Amen"

Excerpt from Jonathan Safran Foer's Everything is illuminated. Doesn't everybody need to read things like these now and then? It left me floating. I read it to R and he sighed, the soppiest grin on his face. I love him when he's unwillingly touched.

That came out so wrong I can't stop giggling.

On other news, today one of my students punched another in the face. I must say that the punched one had been earning points for that since september. Teaching is madness. Ah, well. I love thursday nights. I don't see them until next week, so today I'm beyond it all.

And yet, I love it-- even if none of my students ever get my particular brand of sarcasm. In fact, luckily for me, it goes so far above their 11-year-old heads that their mothers never get to hear of it.

Mothers. *shudder* Am meeting Aitor's mother on tuesday to talk about the little abomination she calls 'son'. Hope to get a word in sideways, unlike during our last meeting. And not to feel vaguely threatened the whole time.

The kid is definitely not adopted.

On why kids are only cute until you teach for a living & 13 going on 30

Tue, 07 Feb 2006 19:22:51 GMT

Today I took my students to the computer room, since they've been behaving exceptionally well (for them, which means nobody's broken somebody else's nose lately). They were flabbergasted when I told them, one of them most of all: Aitor, my absolute worst student. Worst not as in "bad at studying" but as in "bad at fucking existing". Subsequent dialog goes as follows:

Aitor: Seriously? You're taking us to the computers?

M: Yes, Aitor.

Aitor: Because you want to? For real? It's not that somebody told you to?

M: Yes.

Aitor: O-kay, just was surprised that you'd take us voluntarily... I mean, you're so evil...

Little bastard. It actually made me laugh, but also hate him a little more.

Also: isn't 13 going on 30 an absolute, albeit guilty, pleasure? I go weak at the knees every time I watch it. I ended up buying it because I always felt like seeing it whenever I have a crappy day. Last tuesday Aitor's class fucked me over as much as they could and I got home feeling awful... 13 going on 30 later, I was all giddy with a silly grin plastered on my face. I also shed a tear every time Jenna goes back to her parents, with Billy Joel's Vienna in the background. Someday I'll expand upon that. :) Jennifer Garner is almost too cute to handle, Mark Ruffalo's broken voice is just... whoa, and I love the fact that it has such an anti-romantic comedy feel to it. And a happy ending as well. :)

Hence the icon, which just shines. Makes me smile every time.

on why I hate my degree & LJ addictions

Tue, 07 Feb 2006 19:09:16 GMT

Tomorrow I will take my Communication Theories I exam for the fifth time.

Well, actually the second time.

Only I've paid for 6 sittings. I just didn't go to 4 of them. The 6th one will hopefully never come to be.

This was the exact subject I got stuck upon when my mother got ill. I failed, then could not take it again. Would panic in the last moment and leave. Is that pathetic or what? I need to take it and pass. I want to major. But I'm so scared, god.

I also hate the subject, which doesn't help much. I NEED TO PASS THIS TEST. But I need to sit it first.

And on quite a different topic: LJ is a drug. I'm finding comms for each and every one of my obsessions. I was extremely nervous to post at first (I've actually only posted on one, on the others I've just commented). Is it like this for every newbie? I'm 21, I shouldn't get like this over teh intarwebs. Oh well. :)

classic_couples ---------------> ♥! Also, people answered to my post on classic_daily loving on Audrey Hepburn, which made me so giddy and happy. I'm like a frickin virgin here.

Raping childhoods right, left & center

Sun, 05 Feb 2006 19:52:19 GMT

Fandom_wank is such a goldmine for things such as these:

For hours-d'oevres we have this wonderful Thundercats Outtakes. Priceless even if you can't even remember the series.
Quote of choice>> Lion-O: "Ha ha ha! It's when Wiley Cat and Kid are pretending to be the most helpful that they're---dropping their pants? On the thang? While I'm talking?"

And as the main course, only for those of a strong stomach among us: Slave Bear of Care-a-lot. Care Bears rape porn.
Quote of choice>> "Slave Bear, you are in the rape rack for crimes against caring."

Good grief.

Obscurity, humanity and LJ-cuts

Sun, 05 Feb 2006 17:16:07 GMT

Is Future Boy Conan that obscure a series? I finally got my wonderful 26 fansubbed eps through bittorrent and have been going through a bit of a re-watching frenzy. I cannot believe so much got stuck in my mind. I must have been 6 when I watched this series. It's fucking beautiful, that's for sure. And yet there's only 11 LJ users who list it in their interests! Too bad, for I've never seen a cartoon series with such depth or heart. Even R, who hates cartoons in general and anime in particular, became absolutely addicted to it when I showed him.

It's 2008 a.d., 15 years after the Great War which tore apart the Earth and almost anihilated humanity. Conan, a 12-year-old boy, lives in Remnant Island with his grandfather. Their home is on the remains of a crashed airplane which has been almost covered by vegetation by now. As far as they know, they're the only people on Earth, and their little island is the only piece of land which wasn't covered by the ocean. Conan's existence is peaceful and happy. But one fateful day the call of the gulls and the terns brings him to the shore, where they are flocking to a prone figure on the sand. It's Lana, a young girl of Conan's age who has been washed ashore and is close to collapse and to whom the birds are constantly drawn to. She's the granddaughter of Professor Briac Lao, the only surviving scientist expert in solar energy; and her arrival tells Conan and his grandfather not only that there are many more survivors than they ever thought possible, but also that a new military force, Industria, is rising from the ashes of the old world, and an unequal war is brewing. Thus starts an amazing, riveting story on whether humanity deserves to be saved or not, on choices, death and love. Just mind-blowing.

So here's Monsley, the redheaded commander of the Industrian forces. Absolutely kick-ass character. Wish I knew how to take screencaps from my .avis, then I'd show the amazing moment where she prepares to go down in a hail of bullets. She has more balls than all the cast combined, and is the source for my LJ name, of course.

Here's Conan, Lana and Jimsy. The animation is stark and simple; they aren't exactly the watercoloured red-cheeked cherubs you see here. Another thing I love about this series is that in its 26 episodes there are close to none anime conventions-- no enormous bosoms, starry eyes, glomping, nor general not-quite-in-touch-with-reality situations. If you can live with Conan's absolutely freaking surreal boy-from-the-future mad jumping skillz you'll be alright.

I need to watch this again. :)

good god, where's my sleigh?

Sat, 04 Feb 2006 19:11:28 GMT

Should I have known that every time you change the silly mood setting you lose the whole entry? I guess so, I mean, it's such a logical thing to happen.

That said, finally got LJ. Won't let R know about it yet.

Something to bitch about? Comm Theories I final. But I'll major if it's the last thing I do.

Icon is teh pretteh. Si Manech etáit mort, Mathilde le saurait... Bit angsty though. But who doesn't like trombones?

Also, mood themes are fucking cutesy.

ETA: My, such a Gryffindor colour scheme. Now I'll have to quit my job. Bartending. In the dark.