So.

Well. I've had a somewhat tumultous week, and the fic stalled. Well, not so. Really. It didn't stall. It got a good kick in the pants when I plotted out a big chunk of it. And I'm expecting to spend tomorrow writing it. I think it's fairly straightforward, and shouldn't require a whole lot of time, but I always thing that. Still debating the point of view. Could be Draco. Could be Harry. Could be anyone, really. The first half, at least. Seriously considering doing a McGonagall point of view. It's funny how you can tell portions of a story from just about anyone's point of view and still get the general point across.

I might just have to go with McGonagall. Since I've mentioned it. Heh. Just for the first part. The second part is all Draco, I think. Hmmm. Yeah.

I did manage to rustle up something of a job. It looks promising. I still have a yen to be a flight attendant, cause that would just be too cool.

Sometimes my faith falters too.

I had dinner at a friend's house today, and watched Mystery Men. I giggled madly. I think their cat is dying. She's dropped a tremendous amount of weight in the last month or two, and now she just lies around listlessly. Poor thing. Their other cat is very....S&M, if you want to know. She likes it if you bang on her really roughly. How odd is that? Crazy critter.

My tailbone is sore. But I got to drink Blanche de Chambly, my current favourite white beer in a bottle. It's got to be Hoegaarden on tap, though.

And....

I think I might have my battery power problem licked. I'm going to run it down a bit tonight to see how it does. We turned off a lot of stuff. And hopefully fixed my startup error. Hopefully. I think it might have been AIM, but it's hard to say.

Yeah, might have to start with McGonagall. Heh.

Goodnight.

this is....interesting.

So I went over and did the spark's sex test and got an interesting result. Ha. I lead such a boring life.



So there you have it. Heh. Line forms on the left. Have your references handy.

Intro to Gorge, or, Lib and I make a Good Team(tm)

This is the intro to the new Gorge issue. I'm totally thrilled with it. This is the one part of Gorge that I actually remember writing. Well, I wrote chunks of it, and Lib took it and did stuff to it. Normally she does more to it than this, so parts of it I remember flat out.

His is a routine life.

At six o'clock each workday morning, with the final peals of his alarm clock echoing in his ears, the potions boy slides his feet to the floor and gropes dizzily for his slippers with his toes.Ê Naked, he stumbles to the bathroom, brushes his teeth, wipes the frosting of sleep from the corners of his eyes.Ê In the mirror his face always looks surprised, a little shell-shocked, perhaps.Ê He prods the hollows beneath his eyes with the tips of his fingers and worries about his health.

The beginning of that sentence is all lib. I didn't add an alarm clock. Mostly because I don't use one. I seem to remember starting with the feet, though. I don't think I remember the next sentence, though I think the rest of this paragraph is her. I like the idea that he worries about his health. It's so mundane of him. I love that.

Sometimes, when in the process of dressing, he accidentally wakes Lucius; sometimes he does it on purpose.Ê A dropped shoe, a clatter of a hairbrush, a cabinet door slammed indelicately shut, and Lucius stirs, makes some small sound of protest at the interuption of his dreams.Ê They exchange confused words in the darkness, conversations which would not make sense in sunlight.Ê Sometimes they hold hands; sometimes Severus kisses him, softly, on his hands, on his neck.Ê

I think she took this word for word from me. I think. Possibly the interruption of his dreams is her. I don't remember the kissing part, but damn that sounds Ivyish, don't it. Lib and I borrow from each other in terms of style on occaision, though. I like the sometimes here. I remember starting to write that, and it changing the tenses of what I was writing the moment I put that sentence down.

Sometimes Severus remains silent, still, waiting for Lucius to roll over and fall asleep again.

When he is satisfied that Lucius has settled, Severus goes to the kitchen, grabs some bread, slathers butter on it, washes it down with water.Ê Sometimes he makes coffee, sometimes he skips eating altogether.Ê By this time a weak light will have begun to filter through the windows, and Severus usually feels a strong urge to return to the bedroom, to stand framed in the doorjam and watch that light grow brighter on Lucius' skin.Ê Sometimes he does just that, drily swallowing his breakfast.

This is all me, pretty much. And damn am I proud of that bit. I really like this part. It might be my favourite thing ever. I like the variation in it, and the routine. The desperation of it, the uncertainty.

The lump in his thoat he often suffers at such times he attributes to the grainy consistency of the loaf.

Lib added this, and I think it's a great touch. I think she did anyay, cause I don't remember it.

Within ten minutes he is outside, his thin fingers clawed around his broomstick, the cold morning air suffusing his cheeks with a flush of red.Ê When it is raining he wears a thick, muddy-looking cloak which makes him sweat and scrapes uncomfortably against his wrists.Ê In the snow, he wears a sweater under the cloak, hood up, and pulls his old HogwartÌs scarf around his neck.Ê He never wears gloves.

Lib added the 'suffusing'. I don't think I've ever used a word like 'suffusing'. But I like this paragraph as well. I don't know why I decided to note that he never wears gloves. I toyed with expanding that statement, but didn't. Instead it was just a random detail. And I like it.

He flies into the rising sun.Ê When he is halfway to the home of Evan Rosier, the sun is already high and bright in his eyes.Ê He curses, attempting to shade his eyes while maintaining control of his broom.Ê On those days it is overcast, he stares dully ahead at the silvery, flat orb tucked behind the clouds, and thinks of Lucius.

We debated the use of the word 'orb'. I put it in as a bit of a joke. But it's hard to replace now, isn't it.

Alighting on the front porch of the Rosier's mansion, Severus may or may not be greeted by either a house elf, Rosier's close friend Alan Wilkes, or Rosier himself.Ê Whomever it is, they quickly escort him into the basement of the house, where Severus will spend the next eight hours preparing potions in a small makeshift laboratory.Ê

As I recall, this was where I stopped, but I added women to the picture, which lib removed. I didn't know what this Rosier character was about, so I gave him a wife and a daughter. Interesting that the women were replaced by men. :)

He mixes drugs, medicinal balms, virulent potions; he crushes mandrake, five-finger leaf, dogwood; he works until his fingers ache and all the while there is Lucius' writhing body to distract him, the image lingering insistently in the periphery of his mind.Ê

A phantasm of desire.

Nice touch. I especially like the list, because I have a thing for lists. The longer the list the more people can see the scene, isn't that odd? But I think it's true. If the list is long enough, sometimes you can almost smell it.

How excellent. That works so well. I'm speechless. Lib and I have basically nothing in common; our writing styles are utterly different. We focus on completely different things. I am interested in beauty; she is interested in ugliness, really. But somehow together we do interesting things, don't you think?

Odd.