Amanuensis's Journal

Dirty, dirty AU non-con fic. NOW.

Sat, 14 Nov 2009 01:35:51 GMT

So I finally got around to seeing Transformers...

Megatron: "Is it fear or courage that compels you, fleshling? Give me the Allspark and you may live to be my pet."
Me: *pants* Oh, F**K. I need fic.

It's called a stuffing cage.

Sun, 08 Nov 2009 23:06:21 GMT

First thing I said when I saw this in the Bed Bath and Beyond flyer was, "There's gotta be porn of that somewhere."

Exchange fest musings

Sun, 08 Nov 2009 19:17:53 GMT

I filled out my Yuletide form, and when I saw that I'd messed up on one I'd volunteered to write--picked Richard Adams' The Plague Dogs instead of Watership Down--I thought, fudge, if I get stuck with that one, I should just suck it up, go read the book and write the damn thing. S.O.'s been telling me for years I should read it.

For exchange fests like these I get more excited thinking about what I'd like to write. What I request is a bit bewildered-feeling, half-hearted. Is that what everyone feels? When I click with a fandom, I usually think about the story that comes to me, which means it's a story I want to write, not a story I want someone else to write.

What I want from other authors are the stories I can't think of.

Comic update and an arrrgh.

Sat, 07 Nov 2009 07:20:23 GMT

*smacks head*

Good news: Starfighter has been updated!

Bad news: I FORGOT ABOUT IT WHEN YULETIDE NOMS CAME AROUND. And it didn't make the list from anyone else either. Arrrgh.

Halloween Pumpkin 2009

Sun, 01 Nov 2009 18:20:20 GMT

I didn't carve my Halloween pumpkin this year until the 31st!

This is the original screencap that I chose:

Sebastian from Kuroshitsuji

And this is how the pumpkin came out (unretouched photo!):

This is what I did with it to make the screencap a template, playing with the saturation and brightness in Photoshop:

Here's the finished pumpkin in normal light, without being lit from within:

And, again, the finished product.

I leveled up this year in pumpkin carving; this is the first time I've gone for pumpkin scraping in different levels of layers, without cutting all the way through anywhere. It was a trickier learning curve, but seeing the results, it's darned rewarding, and I'm going to keep at this technique.

Update, original fic: Lord Bereshti's Concubines, ch. 14 & 15

Tue, 27 Oct 2009 23:26:18 GMT

For those following my original smutfiction:

Chapters 14 and 15 of Lord Bereshti's Concubines are up.

Teaser:

Atramentium.

One of the most difficult colors to create in the silk trade, the sheen overlying its blackness having a tendency to muddy in less skilled hands. Bereshti liked to see Silvian clad in it on candle-dark nights. Silvian was aware his hair blended with it, making him seem a hooded image in the proper light. His duties were made even sweeter when he felt himself as beautiful as this.

Hope you enjoy!

Yuletide noms. Omnomnoms.

Mon, 19 Oct 2009 00:03:12 GMT

Made my Yuletide list. I asked for 4 fandoms already on the list:

BlackJack
Ginn Hale - Wicked Gentlemen
Kuroshitsuji
Sunshine (2007)

And I added two that weren't:

Arturo Perez-Reverte - Captain Alatriste series
Michael Manning - Androgyne series (The Spider Garden/Hydrophidian/In a Metal Web)

I was surprised those hadn't been on there! For those who are curious about the latter, it's graphic novel erotica, and as intricately visual as it is, it's got a fascinating plot that was cliffhangered in the last volume, so it screams for fanfic. Check out the author's lj at metalweb. Note: Manning's stuff is very NSFW and he doesn't hide his art behind cut-tags, bless him.

Sunshine/MST3K "The Day the Earth Froze" crossover icons

Wed, 07 Oct 2009 01:32:36 GMT

I love the 2007 film Sunshine, but as a MST3K fan, I had to give it the The Day the Earth Froze treatment.

Previews:

Take, enjoy, credit or not, it's all good.

88 Sunshine/ MST3K "The Day The Earth Froze" crossover icons

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Created with angelamaria's Icon Table Generator @ Bauble

Update, original fic: Lord Bereshti's Concubines, ch. 12 & 13

Thu, 01 Oct 2009 11:28:38 GMT

For those following my original smutfiction:

Chapters 12 and 13 of Lord Bereshti's Concubines are up.

Silvian found himself returning the kiss, melting a little under Van’s hands. Working himself into a state of upset wouldn’t help anything. He pressed back against Van, letting his hips take as much contact as Van would allow. Van inserted his thigh between Silvian’s, silently, let Silvian rut against it as he would, petting his hair with one hand and using the other to trace interesting lines beneath Silvian’s jaw. Silvian let him do it, arching his neck when sensitive spots were traced, not breaking the kiss, enjoying the stubble of Van’s cheek tenderizing his own face with each movement.

From behind the wall, the muffled crack of a lash.

Enjoy!

Stuff that bothers me when I think about it...

Tue, 22 Sep 2009 23:36:22 GMT

FICLET: His Butler, Diagnostician (Kuroshitsuji, Sebastian/Ciel, NC-17, ~1300 words)

Sat, 19 Sep 2009 02:24:02 GMT

Title: His Butler, Diagnostician
Rating: NC-17
Characters Sebastian/Ciel
Word count: ~1300
Warnings: Sounding (if you don't know what that is look it up before you read this), discipline/torture. Ciel's age is not given in this.
Notes: Written for kuroshi_contest's theme of Language.

Sebastian's glove tastes of iron filings and cloves.

The balled girth of that glove fills Ciel's mouth and leeches all moisture from his tongue in an efficiency of simple white cotton. Ciel tries to force it out with his tongue and cannot; how can the thing have expanded so? He chews down against the soaking, immense sphere of cloth, hoping to reduce it to a size he can expel; all he manages is to bring one of the glove's fingers dangerously close to slipping into his throat. His gorge convulses. Sebastian, he is sure, will not let him choke to death, but the prospect of inhaling his own vomit is not appealing.

Black-tipped nails on an ungloved hand dance down his torso, flickering against one nipple, then the other for good measure. Ciel pulls against the ropes; the bonds which restrain his wrists thread diagonally beneath the bed to hold the opposite ankle in place, so that Ciel pulls on his own legs in painful tension each time his arms try to flex, making the spreadeagle even more diabolical. Damn Sebastian to the hell he came from.

He'd done it so bloody quickly. His master, stripped and secured and served up like a dish. Ciel hadn't even had time to ask what had set Sebastian off this time.

"Nnnnnnng!"

Sebastian chuckles, raises an admonishing finger. The tetragrammaton winks blood-scarlet upon the back of his hand. "Young master, do not strain yourself. You are quite incapable of going anywhere." The hand descends, moving again to his chest, now to his belly. His skin trembles as the black nails linger there before moving to the tip of Ciel's penis, also trembling, trying not to react with automatic erection.

Ciel does not cry out against this. He does not dare.

The nails scratch, the nails catch. They stroke over the velvet of Ciel's organ with deceptive gentleness before flickering their tips edge-on against the vulnerable underside. Ciel is stiff and still, forgetting to breathe, remembering only as his vision begins to dim and he sucks up stingy threads of air through his nose.

Sebastian lifts his other hand to show Ciel what is in it: a medical thermometer, mercury-tipped. "I cannot think," he begins, "what has made you act so very unlike yourself today, young master." He twirls the thermometer in his fingers. "You were exceedingly rude to Lady Elizabeth at luncheon. I thought we had got beyond such an open lack of manners." His fist coils about the thermometer as though he has no more interest in it, as he leans low over Ciel's unclad body to fix Ciel's gaze with his. "You may be succinct, you may even be cold. Such prerogative is yours as a nobleman. What you may not be--" his eyes narrow-- "is anything other than a gentleman. You do not keep a lady waiting, you do not turn your back on her, and you most certainly--" Sebastian's mouth is a hard line-- "do not strike her."

She deserved it, thinks Ciel, unrepentant.

"Therefore--" Sebastian's fingers uncurl and lets the thermometer fall to his fingertips again-- "I can only assume you are not feeling well. So I must see if it is serious enough for us to phone for a doctor."

Ciel bites the cloth again and whimpers. Outrage will earn him nothing from Sebastian now. If he could plead aloud he would.

Sebastian shakes his head. "I fear you are not ready for me to unstop your mouth. In your state I'm sure you would only spit this back at me. I shall devise an alternative."

His fingers have not left Ciel's penis, and Ciel whimpers again, a whole string of ghastly puppy noises that move Sebastian not at all. Sebastian looks almost human, the light in his eyes sparking as he sets the mercury end of the thermometer to the eye of Ciel's penis and slides it in. That's all Ciel sees of it or of him; he howls about the ball of cloth, back arching as he wrenches at his restraints, eyes screwing shut against the hot knifeblade of pain lancing down the length of his organ.

"There, young master." Ciel hardly hears it. Breath rasps through his nose as the razor of agony slices deeper and deeper into him, the fire of it pressing against his perineum, He feels Sebastian's fingers gathering his scrotum into his hand, as if by moving it a little more ground can be gained. He's going to be sick, he knows it.

Sebastian twists the thermometer's end in his fingers with a little hum of satisfaction and Ciel's vision nearly goes again, choking off any cry he might make. "Several minutes, I think," Sebastian says, and Ciel can hear the savor in his voice, "are the recommended duration before attempting a reading."

Ciel's heart flutters in his throat like a terrified bird as he endures an eternity of minutes, an ocean of pain, buffeting him until the promise of tears spills over, dampening his temples. Sebastian, damn his black heart or whatever passes for it in a demon, won't ever call his evil games punishment. A demon can't punish the master he serves.

Nor can a butler.

"That should suffice." The last sibilants are still being hissed as Sebastian jerks the thermometer from Ciel's urethra in one movement, the pain so intense Ciel is certain, terrified, that the glass rod has shattered within him and is tearing its way out. But the thermometer in Sebastian's hand catches the light, intact down to its mercury tip, as Sebastian holds its length up to his gaze.

At last, as Ciel struggles again to breathe, to gain his voice, Sebastian lowers the offending rod. "No fever, it seems. Not enough concern to request a doctor, I would guess, then." He smiles benignly at Ciel. "A good night's rest should be sufficient to have you on your best behavior tomorrow, shouldn't it."

Sebastian's bare fingertips lift Ciel's chin in a fond caress; then the fingers of the other hand snake into Ciel's mouth, slipping between the wedge of the balled glove and Ciel's stretched cheeks. With a squeeze, the ball of cloth is made small enough to be drawn free.

Ciel coughs and coughs. The retch that has teased the back of his throat these long minutes turns away, eases as he swallows. The soreness of his jaw is almost ache enough to match the needle-like aftershocks burning in his groin.

He tests his jaw by opening and closing it a few times. Then he sets it.

In hindsight--be fair, even in foresight--it would have been wiser to wait until after Sebastian released the ropes to speak. But Ciel is raw and unprotected, too bruised to be wise. He pours out his outrage, a deluge of invective at the demon, the foulest curses he can manufacture. His threats are insults and his insults are threats and at last Ciel is reduced to babble that finishes with a full-hearted snarl of, "...if you'd ever had a mother!"

Sebastian listens to the entire tirade with parted-lip interest. When Ciel is finished, Ciel sees Sebastian smother a smile as he raises a finger again, tut-tuts at Ciel. "Language, my lord."

The balled-up glove is soaking, and slips back into Ciel's mouth with ease. Ciel howls about it, wanting to bite it to shreds, knowing there's no chance of that. Sebastian pats Ciel's cheek, runs a thumb over his lower lip. "That should do until I can fetch the soap." He stands. "The young master must have more motivation to remember his manners, it seems."

Never once will the bastard call it punishment. Ciel growls his promise of bloody vengeance behind the gag.

From starchy sticks of bitterness to 300-proof rotting slime in ten seconds flat. IT HAPPENS.

Thu, 17 Sep 2009 00:55:24 GMT

Me: I hate that I've become so picky about bananas. They've got to be at the exact stage of ripeness and not beyond or I won't eat them.
S.O.: I know what you mean, I'm the same way.
Me: You watch them like a hawk: too green, too green, too green, not quite yet, a little more-- and then you take ONE bathroom break and suddenly, oh, f**k, I missed the window!
S.O.: Took yer eyes off 'em just long enough to inhale. And it's all over.
Me: Yeah, sometimes you hit them in that twelve-hour time span when they're edible. And just one day beyond that...
S.O.: ...it's time to call in John Constantine.

In other news, I watched the first episode of Ouran High School Host Club twice tonight, once in Japanese with subtitles and one with English, and, damn, I have to say, that's a great English dub. Think I'm gonna go with it.

Kuroshitsuji icons

Wed, 02 Sep 2009 00:38:43 GMT

The S.O. and I watched all the episodes of Kuroshitsuji together and, of course, MSTied the hell out of them (like you do). The end credits for the later episodes got a lot of jokes made by both of us, so I made icons for 'em.

Preview:

Take, enjoy, credit or not, it's all good.

Non-animated:

Animated:

KUROSHITSUJI FIC: All's Flair In Love and War (Grell/William, G, 1180 words)

Sat, 29 Aug 2009 01:45:21 GMT

Title:All's Flair In Love and War
Rating: G (for shame)
Pairing/Characters: William, (/) Grell
~~Warnings/Notes/~~Summary William never expected Grell could make him feel comfortable.
Word count: 1180
Written for kuroshi_contest Week #4 theme: Haven.

"Oh, Will-i-am..."

He didn't look up. That singsong couldn't be anyone else. "No, Grell."

He could hear Sutcliffe's pout. "I haven't even told you what it is."

"I'm saving myself time." The tip of his quill snapped. Damn. Opening his desk to hunt a spare, he pretended Sutcliffe wasn't actually entering the office.

Grell sat his trousered rump upon the desk's corner, obscuring half the scroll with a coy drape of a leg. William sighed. "What is it."

"William, dearest." Grell leaned his shark's grin in with a simpering duck of his head. "You must let me have my scythe back. I can't be a proper shinigami with these." He punctuated his protest with twin snips of his probation scythes, right in front of William's face.

William drew back to avoid the danger of having his eyelashes trimmed, gave Grell his usual unsmiling gaze. "No."

Grell, never much for negotiations, clasped his hands beneath his chin (nearly puncturing his palms with the scissors) and burst into tears. "Please?" he wailed, tears plopping onto the scroll and making the ink run.

"I'll take those away too if you keep this up."

Grell leapt off the desk, contorting in horror. "No! Oh, William, how you treat me. When is it a crime to bring a little flair to one's duties?"

"You'll receive a full-sized regulation scythe again when I say." The scroll would still be salvageable, he thought. "So try to act as if you deserve an end to your probation."

An unhappy sigh. "Yes, William. Here," Grell was extending a hand, placed something slender and shiny-slick upon the desk. "I picked this up for you on my last assignment."

With a sweep of hair he left the office. William picked up the object. The end depressed with a click; the tip which emerged on the other end was not sharp enough to be a weapon, but left black dots on his fingers. After a moment of experimentation, he understood its function.

It did work more efficiently than a quill.

*****

"William I heard some of the others talking they say I shouldn't wear this they say I need to be dressed in a suit but this is a suit and the rules don't say anything about the jacket length and I love red, William, tell me you won't make me change it oh tell me tell me please please please?"

It still was not worth looking up. "There is a dress code."

Grell squeaked. "But, William--"

"And no, it does not specify jacket length." Now he did look up. "Nor does it specify that the jacket should be wide enough for one's shoulders, because that was thought to be a given. Could you at least have the thing tailored, Sutcliffe?"

Grell lifted a hand to his lips in another horrified cringe. "But it's cut for a lady. I can't destroy my lovely coat with dreadful blocky fabric. I'd look ridiculous."

He wouldn't even waste an eyeroll on that one. "Have I said anything about your jacket to date?"

"N-no."

"Then don't pay attention to others. Your censures come from me." He returned his gaze to his work. "It counts as a suit. Barely. Try not to push your wardrobe further, Sutcliffe."

Grell leapt like an overjoyed jack-in-the-box. "Thank you, William!" Almost before he had touched down, he set another item on William's desk, a tiny ceramic pot with something growing in it. "This is for you."

As Grell scampered away, William wondered why Grell didn't try to bribe him before he made his requests. The plant had stems and spiky pink-green ovoids that bit closed when stroked. William set it on the shelves behind his desk.

*****

"Williammmmmm..."

The cry was anguished enough to make a weaker god weep. William was not such a god.

But he did look up. "What."

"I did what you said, I didn't listen to gossip," sniffled Grell. "But I saw, oh, it's written right there in the latest memo, William, oh, how could you, you signed it yourself--hair length, William, don't make me, you heartless beast!"

William would have liked to have pointed out that a limit of waist-length hair should be generous enough for any organization's dress policy, and that it would only have cost Grell an inch or two to comply. But he didn't. Gesturing with his ballpoint (everyone wanted to know where he'd got it), at the memorandum's header, he read aloud: "'For New Hires,' Grell. It's not an informational handout for the division. New hires have stricter guidelines, you...fool." He rejected a stronger insult.

He wouldn't watch the play of emotions over Grell's face, it was too naked. By the time Grell was shedding tears of relief William had crumpled the memorandum and tossed it into the bin. "Go...comb your hair or whatever it is you do. Don't," he warned as Grell was clearly about to clasp his hand, probably to kiss.

Grell's heels danced a patter on the floor as he headed out of the office. Then he turned. "Oh! I almost forgot."

This time it was an absurd little poppet, some kind of totem, no doubt, made of something that looked like rubber but smelled strange, and had a topknot of bright pink hair above a ridiculous squashed-in face.

The pink hair didn't look anything at all like Grell. Not at all.

*****

It occurred to William that he hadn't had any deskside intrusions in over a week. Grell was off on a private assignment; the ninny had even filled out the proper forms before. How refreshing.

He adjusted the tiny discs in his ears. Grell had called this an eyepod, and the music on it dixieland jazz. William still wasn't sure if he liked it, but it was different.

An error on the scroll before him made him grimace. Opening his desk, he rummaged for a moment, but failed to find what he was looking for. He turned to the shelves behind him, found them a good deal more occupied than they'd once been. A Chinese fan sat next to a a glass globe with a scorpion incased within; a Roman strigil lay upon a cube of yellow notepaper inscribed along one edge with the words What Happens In Vegas Stays In Vegas. Shells, wire puzzles, and wishbones from long-extinct birds littered the covers of his books, and the flytrap on the corner of his desk was looking healthily fat.

It wasn't neat, but it was interesting.

There--right between the music box and a wooden egg that opened to reveal a wooden chick, there was the tiny bottle of quick-drying white paint, liquid paper, clever name. William dabbed a bit onto the error and blew on it.

Capping the bottle, he looked again at the collection. Such a lot of clutter. Perhaps he should try to organize things a bit.

He squelched the thought. No, it looked all right like this. Even...cozy.

When the singsonged Oh Will-i-am floated through his door ten minutes later, William didn't even think it incongruous how quickly he looked up.

Update, original fic: Lord Bereshti's Concubines, ch. 10 & 11

Sun, 23 Aug 2009 22:50:00 GMT

For anyone who's following my original smutfiction:

Chapters 10 and 11 of Lord Bereshti's Concubines are up.

"Nonetheless--" Bereshti was still fingering Jovari's chest-- "you're very pleasing, just as you are. What shall I do with you first?" He was watching Jovari's eyes now; Silvian in turn watched the master's face. "Shall I bury myself in you, lovely one? Have you strung up and teased until you beg to be taken? Whip you until your well-used flesh colors and I learn the sound of your unrestrained cries?"

Enjoy, smutophiles!

AVATAR FIC: An Immodest Proposal (G, ~1600 words, shippy)

Wed, 12 Aug 2009 00:18:17 GMT

GUYS GUYS FINISHED WATCHING AVATAR TODAY

I BRING FIC

(and now I can join communities and look at wikipedia pages and stuff wheeeeee)

Title: An Immodest Proposal
Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Summary: His second official act isn't as well-received.
Rating: Very very G.
Words: ~1600
Author's Notes: A little scene I imagined as the last episodes approached. Something to flesh out the denouement, for the incorrigible multishipper in me. Spoilers for the series.

*****

Fire Lord Zuko's first official act after his coronation is to declare the war at an end. His audience of thousands cheers as one.

His second official act has only one witness, and her reaction is not nearly as enthusiastic. In fact, there's violence.

"What did you just say?" Katara shouts, and Zuko's pretty sure she isn't asking him to repeat it.

"I--" He winces, physically, unable to stop himself. "I just thought it would be a good idea. You know. Fire Lord. Waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe. Harmony. Stuff." He winces again. Why did he think he could handle this as a dignified negotiation? He'll never be able to pull that around Katara.

Katara's snub little nose is flared like she's the one about to breathe fire. "That--that is the worst, the dumbest--you can be so stupid, Zuko!"

As if he doesn't already have acres of proof of that. "Look, I was trying to make a sensible plan. I think it would go a long way to making peace between the nations. It's not as stupid as all--"

He doesn't finish; his words turn into a strangle as Katara hurls a nearby wine carafe at him, the liquid in it surging into a whip-thin line which hits him, hard, on the right cheek. "Ow!" He has to catch himself from falling with a hand against the wall. "You trying to scar me on the other side to match?"

The wine arcs back toward Katara, forms a sphere and hovers over Katara's shoulder like a parrotmonkey. She folds her arms. "It isn't the idea that's stupid." Some of the anger leaves her face. Only some, though. "As ideas go, it makes some sense."

"It does? I mean--yes. Yes, I think it does." He pushes himself to a standing position, wondering if his crown is crooked, wishing for a mirror. Wishing to be out of the room altogether, truth be told. "It would show how serious the Fire Nation's wish for peace really is. Does--does it really make you that angry?"

"I thought you and I were starting to be friends." The wine sphere twitches in response to her agitation. "And then you pull that, 'As Fire Lord, I make a formal request of the Daughter of the Southern Water Tribe' garbage. Did that crown heat your brains when they put it on you?"

He can't keep from touching the crown. It is crooked. Great. "I--"

"That has to have been," Katara huffs, "the worst marriage proposal on record. Could you have acted as if you cared about me even a little? Called me by name, even?"

"Oh." The syllable is startled out of him. He really has been an idiot. "I'm sorry. You're right. I'm never good at these things." He thinks back to his moment of Hiya, guys, Zuko here and decides this one might have topped it.

"Zuko." Her remaining anger fades from her face, from her posture. She separates the sphere of wine into sections, lets it flow into the empty goblets on the table. When it's done she looks back at him. "You don't love me." She says it sadly, but not with regret. It's a sadness of having to explain something to a fool.

He meets her eyes, gives her the truth. "I could." And it is the truth. "I could learn to. You're smart, you're clever--"

"'Clever' means smart. You could try to come up with different compliments, at least."

He's floundering. "You're pretty--"

"Not in the way Mai is," she says without anything like jealousy.

"Let's not talk about Mai, okay?" He doesn't want to think about Mai now. Really doesn't want to. He takes a breath, an act so difficult he feels it should count as airbending. "You're caring. And you're good. I feel...I feel as if just by being with you it could be easy to be good." Her eyes haven't changed, and he lets that breath go. "I'm sorry. I'm still making a mess of things."

But she steps closer to him, close enough to touch his arm. "Actually, you're doing a lot better. You sound like the Zuko I know." She doesn't smile, but her eyes are kind. "Thank you for not pretending you're already in love with me."

For that statement, for her kindness, his heart does go out to her even a little more. He knows it's still not love--not love in the way a marriage proposal should have it--but it feels just as important. "If I'd said it this way from the first, would it have made you say yes?"

She drops her eyes. "I...don't know. I think...I think you don't want me to, and maybe that's why you said it in a way you knew would make me angry. So that I wouldn't say yes."

"What? Katara, I'm not that smart!"

She hides the start of a smile behind her fingertips. "I wouldn't put it past you."

He groans, but the knot in his gut is loosening.

"Zuko..." Her face sobers again. "I could say the same things about you. I could learn to love you, if it came to that. If it were necessary."

He's still very young. Both of them are, and so he's neither so bold nor so cynical to suggest, even to think, that love isn't important in a political marriage, if it really were that necessary. "I thought it would have helped things." He hears himself speaking in the past tense and feels the knot loosen completely.

"You have all the help you need." She stands a little straighter. "I'm your friend. Toph is your friend. Sokka, Suki...we're all going to stand beside you because we're your friends. Not because we're bound by duty in marriage."

"Yeah, Sokka's probably glad he wasn't in the running for that."

Katara smiles only a little, refusing to stray from her point. "And you have the friendship of the one person in the world who makes any kind of diplomatic marriage shallow by comparison."

He knows what she means, but wonders if she might think he's dumb enough not to get it, so he says it out loud. "Aang."

She nods. "With the Avatar at your side, you'll hardly need anything else to convince the rest of the world that the Fire Nation is sincere in its wish for peace."

Now he smiles. "I'm betting Aang doesn't want to marry me either."

He does capture Katara's smile this time. She laughs. Then she pinkens. He doesn't miss that. "That's part of why you won't marry me, " he says, and when it doesn't hurt him at all to say it aloud, he's glad Katara is so wise. So glad of it that he loves her even more...but still not in that way.

Katara tries not to turn from him, but he can see the struggle. "The Fire Lord...doesn't need me." Her voice breaks on the last part of it.

"But the Avatar does." He's right. Hanging around Katara does wash off on him a little. He's found a little of her wisdom.

Again she colors. But she looks him in the eyes, and says, "Aang saved the world, not because he put himself above the world but because he tied himself to it. Even if I didn't love Aang...I would stay with the Avatar."

If he speaks it aloud, and he's wrong, he doesn't know what he'll do. So he doesn't say it, coward that he is. Instead he asks, "Are you the only one who's going to practice duty around here, then? Just leave the rest of us to run wild?"

She looks distressed for a moment, and he's sorry he teased her, but more sorry that this might mean he actually is wrong. Then her eyes narrow, and a grin creeps into the corner of her mouth. She swats him on the shoulder. "Don't do that. The Avatar is one thing." Her mouth softens. "But Aang is Aang."

Zuko breathes, and it's easy, easy as life. "Oh. Oh, good. I was worried--maybe--"

"I was confused, there, for a while." Her hand goes to her necklace in that unconscious gesture. "But I'm not anymore. Thank you, Zuko. I think you helped."

"Oh." He thinks he sees it. "You mean, you realized that if the Avatar had proposed to you in the formal way I did, you'd have accepted him but not me?"

"Nah, I'd still have decked him," she grins. "But now I can always tell myself that I was this close to becoming wife of the Fire Lord. And that I turned it down for the something I really wanted instead. Kind of a neat memory, you know?"

"Are you going to tell Aang?" His mouth is dry. "Please don't tell Aang. No, forget that--you can tell Aang. Just please don't tell Mai."

"I won't tell Aang," she says. "Don't you tell Mai." And she leans in and kisses Zuko, not quite on the mouth, but nearly. "Some secrets you keep for love's sake."

He watches her go, taking a small piece of his heart with him, but in the way that leaves his heart feeling fuller than before. Friendship does that.

He wonders how he'll propose to Mai. Definitely nothing formal; she'd hate that just as much as Katara had, more. He'll take her on a picnic, tease her until she throws leftover dessert in his face with her deadly accuracy, and he'll pronounce himself defeated. And then he'll ask. She'll probably tell him to clean himself up and not to assume she's that desperate, which for Mai will mean yes.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

*****

Avatar Pic Discussion of Loooove

Sun, 02 Aug 2009 00:26:57 GMT

I'm utterly in love with Avatar. So much so that ten episodes from the end I halted watching in order to make a big ol' I Love This So Much, No Matter How It Ends post to share with those who are similarly squeeful.

And I'm doing it using big honkin' pictures.

Please not to be spoiling me for the remainder of the series? I want to get it fresh, kthanx.

Bits and bites

Sat, 01 Aug 2009 16:14:04 GMT

-I have no proper con report for Azkatraz, as the gist of it goes, "Glomped this person, glomped that person, glomped those people," and has no anecdotes of crazy doom to entertain you. Plain, delightful fun that does not make for clever blog posts. Not that I'm complaining in the least. Those of you who made my weekend awesome, you know who you are.

-I did remember that it was Harry's birthday yesterday. But when it came time for cake, I was craving an egg tart. If I sang over it, that counts, yes?

-In my travels I saw some in-flight films, among them Monsters vs. Aliens. There were some joke-went-on-too-long, they're-pausing-too-long-for-audience-reaction flaws, but it was still oodles of fun and my favorite new oath is Hugh Laurie as Mad Scientist Cockroach Guy (still the consummate gentleman) crying, "Hawking's Chair!"

-Anime series I am currently giving a try: Monster. Tortured ethical protagonist. Ristorante Paradiso. Cute gentlemen waiters of middle age in glasses. Variety is important.

-Why I have not yet finished watching Avatar: Because there's a large joy-post coming shortly to celebrate my love for it before I reach the end.

Discussion: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (Film)

Fri, 17 Jul 2009 17:44:00 GMT

Half-Blood Prince.

Short version: Hooray for the film doing a great job with a book I thought was badly flawed. It came much closer to selling me on its story, and I only felt the absence of perhaps one element from the book. I enjoyed it lots, and a good portion of it felt perfect.

No secret I was badly disappointed in the book of HBP. Summary of my ranty reasons:

1. All those Pensieve trips. Pure exposition; so much so that I thought, "There has to be something else going on with these." I tried to make plot out of it.

2. As soon as Dumbledore explained horcruxes I said, "Harry's one," and expected Dumbledore to try to off Harry by the end of the book. I thought that's what all the exposition and the cave and Dumbledore's odd behavior was leading to.

3. Snape's loyalties are spelled out right from the Spinner's End scene, so for Harry to remain in ignorance at the end of the book insults the reader.

4. Emotionlessly-done Harry/Ginny, all tell, no show.

So I've been looking forward to the film a lot, because I had nowhere to go but up from there, and thought it was likely that the film could tell the story in a more credible way. Maybe Snape's motives could be better concealed, maybe they could develop the Harry/Ginny visually in a way the book couldn't.

And I was really pleased with how hard they tried. Reducing the Pensieve jaunts. Thank god. Only one major scene of that, and a minor one which instantly began to drive scenes that followed (Harry pursuing Slughorn), and the last one then moved directly into the final action sequence. That part in particular was gratifying because it gave a sort of "quick, don't linger on this" glossover to the whole "is Harry a horcrux, is Dumbledore taking Harry somewhere to kill him" --but did you notice how Dumbledore's eyes flick up to Harry's when he says, "I may have...found another one," tellingly? In the books Dumbledore's known about this all along, but perhaps the films are trying to make that a dawning moment for Dumbledore. Harry has that weird flash-scene moment when he touches the dead ring, immediately before. Innnnnnteresting.

This film flowed, with almost every scene leading into another, and less of the change-of-seasons lightness that marks the earlier films. This film should be effing dark, and Harry sober as they made him to be, following Sirius's death as it does, and I didn't have the feeling of irreverence in this film as I did in the book, not once. (Even Harry chatting up the café waitress seemed cynical and nihilist.)

Harry/Ginny, I'm giving them all kinds of credit for working on it, putting Harry and Ginny together as much as possible in emotionally connecting moments. Recognizing that they had none of those from the first five films (because there were almost none in the first five books) and doing what they could. They even did their best to put the kibosh on the Harry/Hermione chemistry in a, "Please, everyone, we're going to spell it out for you that Harry thinks of Hermione as just a friend, because even we think this one is going to need an anvil of 'No!' We're going to have to ask you to stop going there." I didn't quite buy the Harry/Ginny, still. By the time Hermione asks Harry, "What do you feel when you look at Ginny and Dean? I've seen the way you look at her," I thought, "Ah, nope, too early. If you'd asked that at the end of another hour of this I think I'd've bought it. I'm sorry, I know you just didn't have that hour." But credit for doing their best, and I like to think they might have sold a lot of the audience on it nonetheless.

Snape's loyalties--I've never disliked the scenes that lay his loyalties bare, I've just argued that you can't lay all that groundwork and then pretend it's a secret you're keeping for the next book. And I don't see how the filmmakers could subvert that without completely rewriting the last book. So one could suggest that his loyalties should be made more obscure. But the film's brought me to the point where I see that's just not possible, it cheapens Snape not to give the audience his story. I still think it's wrong for Harry not to be given it as well at the end of this chapter. It turns Half-Blood Prince into half a book instead of a book, and I hate that, BUT I think they did what they could to display how Harry is being kept in the dark and even say, "Yes, it's unfair, isn't it."

Before the film I would have argued (did argue) that removing the Spinner's End scene was the wisest way to make his motives less obvious. By abbreviating it as they did, removing Snape's laundry list of excuses that keep him in Voldemort's graces, it was at the least much less a wet fish in the face. Nevertheless you still felt Snape was roped into it, felt his bravado as he steps up to the Vow, felt his "Oh, I'm fucked," as he hesitates before part three of the Vow. And the scene where Dumbledore and Snape argue, I'm glad they kept that, because it can't be helped, Snape's loyalties are meant to be gleaned by the audience, that's all there is to it, and to do less is to cheat him.

Did many of you feel cheated by the omission of "Don't call me coward" at the end? I think it was (blasphemy!) a wise elimination. This is the line that dangles a shove of meaning in front of Harry, and by keeping that from Harry (Snape's coldness during that scene, omigod, that was incredible), it's the grim look of the filmmakers out the fourth wall, saying, "Yeah, we know. It couldn't be more unfair that they're keeping Harry in the dark, isn't it." Snape didn't get the least hint of passion, the implication that he cared at all what Harry thought of him, without that line. Nothing upon which Harry could pick up. Yes, I think they were wise.

Okay, on to other points. How have I got this far into this and not mentioned Draco so far? Well, because Draco's part in this book is the gleam of rubies beneath the rubbish, and if the filmmakers didn't know that, sheesh, no one could help them. This was the good stuff, and they knew it, and it was beautiful. I adored that the Borgin and Burkes scene was turned into "an intitiation," because we deserved that, that sort of dark ceremonial feel to this plot. (And I'm not speaking of Death Eater initiation orgyfic for once. Wasn't even going there.--I know, I must not be feeling well.) Draco's progressive scenes with the cabinet were haunting. (Anyone else flash on Jeff Goldblum in The Fly?) By the time we reached the crying-in-the-bathroom scene Draco's terrified frustration just pulsed off the screen, and I kiss every one of the film's creators for what they did with the Draco-sees-Katie-Bell scene and making the Sectumsempra scene work that marvelously. Draco on the tower was the unhappiest and most miserable of young men, as he should have been in that scene, and the inclusion of Harry analysing Draco's actions at the very last ("No. He was lowering his wand,") had me swooning with how utterly attentive they'd been to the core plot. Yes, I'm a thesaurus of superlatives for this. Deal.

I mentioned I felt only one real omission; in general, much as I did with Order of the Phoenix, I watched this film all the way through without any litany of, "Oh, they cut that...oh, they left that out." At the least if I did notice something I didn't think, "How dare they cut that." (Though the absence of the "I'm his head of house, and I shall decide how hard..." line did have me thinking, "Ah, shit, femmequixotic must be crying buckets.") Y'gotta judge a film on how it works as a film; them's the rules. But I did jaw-drop a little that they didn't explain "half-blood Prince," and left the audience to believe it's some pompous title. It's the TITLE OF THE FILM, fergoshsakes. I really expected Hermione to say to Harry, there on the tower at the end, "I looked it up...Prince was Snape's mother's maiden name. And his father was a Muggle." 'S all it would have taken.

Can we talk about the slash? Of course we can, it's my journal. Yes, there were all those Harry-stalking-Draco moments (how fitting that Harry laments that the ache of unrequited love "feels like this," just as they cut to a shot of Draco slinking), but the two unsurpassed moments for me were actually not between the boys (though they involved each of them).

Harry: You said Slughorn would try to collect me.
Dumbledore: Yes.
Harry: ...Do you want me to let him.

ALDFJAS;LKFL RENTBOY!HARRY HOMG. ALBUS YOU PIMP.

Second, when Snape has Draco up against the wall, and the camera pans off of them to eavesdropping!Harry just as Snape is oozing, "if you let. Me. Assist. You," I swear I heard the zipper. NOT HALLUCINATING.

Bits and pieces:

-I did not like Lavender's performance. She was a caricature. I much preferred the flirtiness shown by the Patil twins in the previous film, and expected Lavender to be more along those lines, not nearly so over-the-top. Even the glimpse we had of Romilda was realistic, and Luna, for all her loopiness, is nevertheless grounded. It was as if they'd pulled Lavender in from some cartoon. (But I blame the directors, not the actress.)

-The pensieve-memory effect was visually arresting, just beautiful. And I loved how
luminescent Riddle looked.

-Harry watching Malfoy on the map while he's in bed, OH WHAT IS YOUR RIGHT HAND DOING HARRY. BIT OF A TOSSER INDEED. Okay, that one's almost up there with the other two unsurpassed moments.

-I wince to imagine the number of screencaps that will feature Ginny rising from tying Harry's shoelace with her head at just...THAT...height.

-Harry high on Felix Felicis merits ROFLing. Hippy Dippy Weather Harry. And the scene with Aragog's dead body would have felt wayyy too long if not for the fact that we were seeing that Felix Felicis just makes things CRAYZEE.

-Am still convinced that Rickman could make a rock orgasm just with his voice.

-DRACO GOT DADDY'S PIMPSTICK.

-I was worried that Harry would not feel like the center of this film from the way the previews seemed to show everything but him. Shouldn't have worried. He still carried the film, was its center, even as other characters seized the spotlight at every turn. It's still about Harry.

-Even as the scene showcased the woes of Neville, I had to laugh that it carried through on Belby falling out of Slughorn's graces. Nice, that.

-HELLO LUCIUS'S PICTURE.

-Dumbledore: "I'm sure you must be wondering why I brought you here, Harry." Harry: "Actually, sir, after six years, I just sort of go with it." Sometimes Lampshade Hanging is perfect, yes.

-The Burrow-burning scene has been dubbed Wizards of the Corn.

-Man, I liked Hermione's Christmas Party dress.

Lots of other stuff. Just because I didn't mention it doesn't mean I didn't like it.

I've already heard a lot of criticism of the way many scenes were changed, but here I am, sitting back and saying, I thought it worked for me as a film, and none of the abbreviations or deletions, save one, bothered me in particular. The floor's open to discussion for any dissenters. ^_^

And I have all these Draco fans on my flist, too!

Wed, 15 Jul 2009 10:13:49 GMT

NRG!

I haven't seen this particular picture or its accompanying discussion anywhere on my flist, and I would have thought it would have polarized folk! Had to wait until I turned the pages of a magazine, what's up with that?

DARK MARK!

Me, I'm thrilled. I always thought Harry's suspicions about that should have been answered, one way or the other. And I feel the choice to show Draco displaying the mark eliminates any possibility that it's an afterthought.

Enablers R Us

Tue, 14 Jul 2009 11:37:22 GMT

I looked at this XKCD comic and I knew what the punchline was on the SECOND ROW.

There is no site more addictive.

Torchwood Children of Earth (Spoilers for the whole series)

Sat, 11 Jul 2009 00:29:25 GMT

Some discussion regarding Torchwood C of E and some cold facts regarding narrative structure/resolution:

1. If you're going to end Torchwood (the organization as well as the series), killing three-fifths of the team and making the leader leave Earth works.

2. Jack reneging on "An injury to one is an injury to all" is bitterly, bitterly unpopular. Unfortunately, Jack has had moments when he didn't exactly stick to this credo, so it's not completely out of character. It's damned unfair, and it really couldn't be crueler to have put him in the situation to make that particular sacrifice, but at least the writers recognized that that's really it for Jack. He can't stay here any longer after a decision like that. He's no longer our hero. He can't die, so at the least he has to leave Earth.

(Mind, I don't like that choice. It was a very mean thing to do, to take away the Jack-as-hero perception. I can't argue the structure of it, but I will argue that it sours the audience. An audience might grieve and that is the way of sad events in a story, but souring the audience is a risky choice.)

3. Watching the politicians of Earth turn into genocidal maniacs was brilliant, but I'm sorry, that demands an ending far more devastating for the majority of them. Not all of them could/would/should get Frobisher's ending, but we really needed to see more death/imprisonment/suicide/abject public stoning of these characters.

4. Similarly, when the world has gone stark staring genocidal you can't gloss over that with a "Six months later." I think the descent into hell that this miniseries depicted was fabulous but the world would be irreparably scarred if it could come back at all from a devastation like that. Children ripped from their parents' arms by their own government. Chaos and anarchy, guys. Riots in the streets. Not "Six months later."

You can hate the deaths, you can hate what they did to our Captain Jack Harkness, but as for me I'm vilifying them for dropping the ball on the resolution. Which is a serious pity, since most of it was tight and horrifying and brilliant. Bad writers, no denouement biscuit.

So much shiny today! Must keep posting!

Fri, 10 Jul 2009 18:44:13 GMT

This is my new favorite thing in the world.

Must make into icon. And I think I will order everything on their site just to thank them.

Unless they suspect your mad photoshop skillz...

Fri, 10 Jul 2009 11:22:51 GMT

I just saw something about a local event thingy that will provide some free medical services for those who are unemployed. At the end it states, "You must provide proof of unemployment."

...

"Yeah, here's a photo of me sittin' on the couch playing Nintendo yesterday afternoon. See the timestamp? Two p.m."

Torchwood Children of Earth Ep 4 (Spoilers)

Fri, 10 Jul 2009 10:05:00 GMT

I want this actress to get whatever the English equivalent of an Emmy is. Jeebus, that was fantastic.

...oh, you thought I was going to talk about that other thing? Well, why not.

1.) It doesn't make sense for them to have killed off so many members of the team and then to kill off more. Unless the series is ending completely.

BUT

2.) It doesn't make sense to give a character a long emotional death scene like that and then go "FAKE" one episode later.

So, yeah, there are little hints Ianto might not stay dead ("He will die," says the 4-5-6, as if there might be a while before everyone's actually dead. It's alien poison, who knows) (and Gwen's "There's nothing we can do," is just ripe for contradiction) but I'm trying to deal with the likelihood he's toast. If that's so, then I'd prefer the series end. Most of us aren't watching Torchwood in a "I only like the Jack And Gwen Show, all the other characters can go f**k themselves" way, so they'll piss off more viewers than they'll entertain if they've killed off this much of the regular cast.