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klenaI've been in a wierdly good mood today. Things keep striking me just at the right time. I have cried today but it's been happy crying. Bizarre happy crying.
I spent two hours outside ironing (can we say whipped much?) and I was listening to 'Run' by Snow Patrol and the sun was sorta shining behind clouds and then "Light up, light up" was sung and the clouds parted and the sun was blistering. It was fucking awesome
I got angry today thinking about parade season but I'm not going to. I will rant about it, probably on the Tuesday if there is trouble, but I just can't now. I'm too....In a laconic sorta mood to think about things like that.
I have blistered feet from Belfast but I'm good. It isn't bothering me so much anymore. And the girls and I talked about America and how we can't believe it's happening and how much FUN we're going to have and Elizabeth and I talked about Star Wars AGAIN. And how we destroyed it for June etc. June hummed as we talked, hahahaha.
We had such fun on the bus going up. But then again we always do.
And as we waited for June's dad to pick me and June up at the end of it all, I got Elizabeth in a head-lock-hug and she turned AND BIT ME. On the boob! I asked June for sympathy and she asked what happened. My response?
She bit me on the boob! But she didn't get the nipple. The nipple's the best part.
Ah well. Good times.
My laptop is KICKING MY ASS. File space is disappearing EVERYWHERE and I don't know why it's happening. That and Microsoft Word is fucked up. And I can't get myslash porn work off the laptop because the removable CD drive doesn't work either. Tragic, tragic!
So! Without further rambling (because I had all these points earlier on and I forgot them all)A drabble! For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
trowicia because she rocks and I couldn't help her the other day. My guilt kicked my ass. ^_~ I'm sorry this isn't better. The words had trouble coming out!
Remus isn't sure what he expects from Sirius after their first full moon on their own. James -finally- managed to break Lily's barriers and got a date and Peter had to serve a detention with McGonagall - 'Professor McGonagall!' his brain balks - for falling asleep in Transfiguration. Again. So it was just going to be him and Sirius. On their first full moon alone since 'The Prank.'
Before the change clawed his brain to nothing more than shredded rags of thought, he worried about what the wolf would do to Padfoot. The burn of the wolf's anger at being betrayed by a pack mate was still fresh. Wondered what would happened without his wits around him.
Now it's morning and he can't remember a thing about the night yet because he's in pieces on the floor. That's normal. All he knows, as the cold wood of the Shack sears against his cheek, is that parts of him are bleeding again and his bones are aching so badly he thinks his body is about to split in two and the wolf is still lingering at the edge of his mind, like the dying moonlight filtering in through the slashes of wood beams.
It's too early now and he can feel himself stitching himself back together, feels his body covered in drying, sticky blood which means more scars. There's a sharp but familiar pain in his right shoulder which means he dislocated it again. No matter, he can feel it starting to heal.
There's a soft sigh that Remus realises he let out and an answering mumble from his feet. It's impossible to move yet but not for Sirius.
So Remus lies against the wood, cursing the Wolf as he always does, wondering where his trousers are when - that can'tbewhatIthinkitis! But as a tongue swipes against his thigh, he realises that he hasn't gone mad, Sirius Black, flirt of Hogwarts, is kissing his way up his body.
Well....this is new.
"Whatidaru do'ng?" Remus asks, in his first attempt at speech. Which fails miserably and ends up coming out as a long and needy moan. Sirius has never done anything like this. Actually Sirius has never done this to him his brain corrects and reminds Remus of the time he caught Sirius and some girl from Hufflepuff on his bed.
But suddenly all thoughts of Sirius-and-the-girl-from-Hufflepuff are gone because Sirius' teeth just grazed over one of his nipples on the path to lay a painfully gentle kiss on the gash across his collarbone.
And it isn't fair because Remus isn't Remus yet - he's a half-finished patchwork doll on the floor of the Shack and if Sirius keeps - OhsweetMerlindothatagain - doing this, he'll remain a half-finished-Remus and he doesn't care anymore because Sirius is licking at the hollow of his neck.
Then Sirius stops dead. Remus manages to meet eyes which are nearly black from the dark of the shack and opens his mouth....But words aren't forming in his head when Sirius Black's breath is ghosting over his neck and making every hair on his body stand on end.
Obviously this is some joke that you don't get. Some joke James would get, his brain says snidely, and Remus is inclined to agree.
Well, he does agree until his lips are crushed against someone else's and oh wait that has to be Sirius and he wonders distantly is he's the one making that moaning? The lips are gone as if they were never there and he is definitely the one moaning now. There are still no words in his brain. At least, none that a Prefect or a Remus Lupin should ever use.
And then words don't matter because he can't even breathe because Sirius beams at him as if he's the most glorious sight which he isn't because he's a naked, scarred, 17-year-old werewolf boy covered in blood.
"Morning Moony." Sirius says, as if this is the most normal thing in the world and leans in for another kiss.
Sorry Tro! That sucked. It was very quick. ^_^;;;
I'm away to watch T.V with Matt! And eat Cornetto!
I spent two hours outside ironing (can we say whipped much?) and I was listening to 'Run' by Snow Patrol and the sun was sorta shining behind clouds and then "Light up, light up" was sung and the clouds parted and the sun was blistering. It was fucking awesome
I got angry today thinking about parade season but I'm not going to. I will rant about it, probably on the Tuesday if there is trouble, but I just can't now. I'm too....In a laconic sorta mood to think about things like that.
I have blistered feet from Belfast but I'm good. It isn't bothering me so much anymore. And the girls and I talked about America and how we can't believe it's happening and how much FUN we're going to have and Elizabeth and I talked about Star Wars AGAIN. And how we destroyed it for June etc. June hummed as we talked, hahahaha.
We had such fun on the bus going up. But then again we always do.
And as we waited for June's dad to pick me and June up at the end of it all, I got Elizabeth in a head-lock-hug and she turned AND BIT ME. On the boob! I asked June for sympathy and she asked what happened. My response?
She bit me on the boob! But she didn't get the nipple. The nipple's the best part.
Ah well. Good times.
My laptop is KICKING MY ASS. File space is disappearing EVERYWHERE and I don't know why it's happening. That and Microsoft Word is fucked up. And I can't get my
So! Without further rambling (because I had all these points earlier on and I forgot them all)A drabble! For
trowicia because she rocks and I couldn't help her the other day. My guilt kicked my ass. ^_~ I'm sorry this isn't better. The words had trouble coming out! Remus isn't sure what he expects from Sirius after their first full moon on their own. James -finally- managed to break Lily's barriers and got a date and Peter had to serve a detention with McGonagall - 'Professor McGonagall!' his brain balks - for falling asleep in Transfiguration. Again. So it was just going to be him and Sirius. On their first full moon alone since 'The Prank.'
Before the change clawed his brain to nothing more than shredded rags of thought, he worried about what the wolf would do to Padfoot. The burn of the wolf's anger at being betrayed by a pack mate was still fresh. Wondered what would happened without his wits around him.
Now it's morning and he can't remember a thing about the night yet because he's in pieces on the floor. That's normal. All he knows, as the cold wood of the Shack sears against his cheek, is that parts of him are bleeding again and his bones are aching so badly he thinks his body is about to split in two and the wolf is still lingering at the edge of his mind, like the dying moonlight filtering in through the slashes of wood beams.
It's too early now and he can feel himself stitching himself back together, feels his body covered in drying, sticky blood which means more scars. There's a sharp but familiar pain in his right shoulder which means he dislocated it again. No matter, he can feel it starting to heal.
There's a soft sigh that Remus realises he let out and an answering mumble from his feet. It's impossible to move yet but not for Sirius.
So Remus lies against the wood, cursing the Wolf as he always does, wondering where his trousers are when - that can'tbewhatIthinkitis! But as a tongue swipes against his thigh, he realises that he hasn't gone mad, Sirius Black, flirt of Hogwarts, is kissing his way up his body.
Well....this is new.
"Whatidaru do'ng?" Remus asks, in his first attempt at speech. Which fails miserably and ends up coming out as a long and needy moan. Sirius has never done anything like this. Actually Sirius has never done this to him his brain corrects and reminds Remus of the time he caught Sirius and some girl from Hufflepuff on his bed.
But suddenly all thoughts of Sirius-and-the-girl-from-Hufflepuff are gone because Sirius' teeth just grazed over one of his nipples on the path to lay a painfully gentle kiss on the gash across his collarbone.
And it isn't fair because Remus isn't Remus yet - he's a half-finished patchwork doll on the floor of the Shack and if Sirius keeps - OhsweetMerlindothatagain - doing this, he'll remain a half-finished-Remus and he doesn't care anymore because Sirius is licking at the hollow of his neck.
Then Sirius stops dead. Remus manages to meet eyes which are nearly black from the dark of the shack and opens his mouth....But words aren't forming in his head when Sirius Black's breath is ghosting over his neck and making every hair on his body stand on end.
Obviously this is some joke that you don't get. Some joke James would get, his brain says snidely, and Remus is inclined to agree.
Well, he does agree until his lips are crushed against someone else's and oh wait that has to be Sirius and he wonders distantly is he's the one making that moaning? The lips are gone as if they were never there and he is definitely the one moaning now. There are still no words in his brain. At least, none that a Prefect or a Remus Lupin should ever use.
And then words don't matter because he can't even breathe because Sirius beams at him as if he's the most glorious sight which he isn't because he's a naked, scarred, 17-year-old werewolf boy covered in blood.
"Morning Moony." Sirius says, as if this is the most normal thing in the world and leans in for another kiss.
Sorry Tro! That sucked. It was very quick. ^_^;;;
I'm away to watch T.V with Matt! And eat Cornetto!
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no subject
Date: 2005-07-09 12:19 am (UTC)Awwww....I thought the writing was beautiful. You and Tro are very bad influences upon each other. =^^=
no subject
Date: 2005-07-09 12:45 am (UTC)And you don't have to feel bad for not being able to help me, silly. :P I was being stupid, and now I'm better, so don't worry about it~ ^w^ ::hugs::
no subject
Date: 2005-07-09 12:45 am (UTC)Suck? Nah
Date: 2005-07-09 03:35 am (UTC)The simplicity in conveyance of a sensual and powerful core of happenings.
Really nice actually.
no subject
Date: 2005-07-09 07:27 pm (UTC)Anyways! There was no nipple sharing! It was an almost-unprovoked attack!
I like being a bad influence. However I still don't like it.
no subject
Date: 2005-07-09 07:28 pm (UTC)It's a thing with me. I have guilt for everything. I'm thinking of becoming a superhero. ^_~ I'm glad you feel better.
♥ ♥
Re: Suck? Nah
Date: 2005-07-09 07:33 pm (UTC)But I appreciate the kind words. ^_^
Re: Suck? Nah
Date: 2005-07-09 08:03 pm (UTC)Suck, it is definately teh not.
That's how things go though.
They come fast and hard and blunt, and they also come lingering and soft and subtle.
But that doesn't mean either is bad.
You're a skilled writer, and as such, you could pretty much thow your thoughts at most given times on paper, and someone somewhere will appreciate it. But I don't mean to undervalue other people's responses to it either.
The primal response people have to art in it's many manifestations is as important a thing as the act of creating it itself.
I'm rambling. My point?
My point is don't let yourself fall victim to the trap of letting your internal criticism process (debatably an important thing) trash your art to the point that you either stop doing it, or feel so bad about doing it that you don't show anyone.
And my words are only ever kind because they are true.
I do not believe in flattery, and I will give my honest opinion on things.
That being said:
your writing makes me teh l0v3
no subject
Date: 2005-07-10 01:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-12 11:07 pm (UTC)I think they're quite good names.....
XD
no subject
Date: 2005-07-13 03:41 am (UTC)And much love goes out to CAPSLOCKY!Harry. ^w^
no subject
Date: 2005-07-13 01:31 pm (UTC)They are pretty good names, hahahaha XD
no subject
Date: 2005-07-14 08:12 pm (UTC)You put 'em in your mouth and suck 'em! And they're fruity, too!
no subject
Date: 2005-07-14 08:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-16 05:52 pm (UTC)Dude, I so plan to own S/R doujinshi some way or another ^_6
no subject
Date: 2005-07-16 05:52 pm (UTC)Re: Suck? Nah
Date: 2005-07-16 05:57 pm (UTC)Now who's being to hard on themself?
But whereas to the producer of it, it looks like so much regurgitated thoughts, to the outsider, it is a thing of beauty nonetheless.
I think that is my problem with regards not liking some of the stuff I write. The words all flow out of me in a very 'stream-of-consciousness' way and I feel that there should be some order. But that may just be me inflicting constraints on myself.
The primal response people have to art in it's many manifestations is as important a thing as the act of creating it itself.
That is so true I can barely respond.
My point is don't let yourself fall victim to the trap of letting your internal criticism process (debatably an important thing) trash your art to the point that you either stop doing it, or feel so bad about doing it that you don't show anyone.
I'm going to try not to be so critical of my stuff. I am. It's very difficult to stop being self-depreciating though.
And my words are only ever kind because they are true.
I do not believe in flattery, and I will give my honest opinion on things.
That being said:
your writing makes me teh l0v3
You make my head spin with how awesome you are. And I appreciate - so, so much - that your words are truthful and honest because 'beauty is truth - truth beauty', ne?
Your writing makes me think in an insanely profound way and makes me extremely happy. You are teh awesome-age. ^_^
no subject
Date: 2005-07-19 01:30 am (UTC)Now? Dunno. I was acknowledging my propensity for it in the past, and that my work to overcome it is a concious continuing effort.
I for one am quite partial to stream-of-consciousness type writing, be it poetry or prose or song or what have you. I feel as if order sometimes is more poignant when it emerges of it's own accord, rather than being contrived from outside.
As I said at the beginning of the post, that is something even I am still working through. Self-deprecation is wired into many of us from childhood outwards. There are traps and pitfalls in society to capture those who would cultivate the most dangerous of weapons towards a society of control: a free mind. Thus art in all forms, the technical body of the art is ripped from the spirit that inhabits it, and made to puppet for organisations that would use it to their own ends, rather than the message it was originally meant to convey. In view of this, I feel as if it is my duty to the very soul of life, the very nature of art itself, to encourage the freedom of expression, the ability to defy forces that attempt to control one. It is in the struggles of life, juxtaposed with the settings of nature, be it ordered or chaotically interpreted.
Art in itself is the gift of a thinking mind onto the world that spawned it, appreciated by culture or it's creator, or conversely hated, it will remain as valid as the thought that spawns it. It is only from examing all our feelings that we can come to understand them. Not by dismissing that which troubles us, but by working to it's comprehension.
Then it is fair, for you make my head spin too. *grins* I speak honesty for the sake of it's very spirit. There is always a simple elegance in truth, but it can be either beautiful or ugly, as it is as varied as our universe
Always with a blush, and a spinning head, and the acceptance that it comes from someone whom I think likewise for. You rock. ^^