the river runs through it

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I have no idea if anyone ever comes here anymore, but for what it's worth: I'm obviously never here. Likely won't be again, unless I decide to do a brain-upheaval and start treating this like an actual journal.

All of my new stuff, and the old stories I felt were worth it, is posted at AO3. I won't be deleting any of the older (embarrassing) stuff from here, so if you go trawling around you can still find them. (Really, though, please don't hold the old things against me. Everyone has to learn somehow.)

--Liz
the river runs through it

Fic: Songs of Vengeance -- The Avengers

Around a thousand years ago in fandom-time (in real time, it was around the end of 2008), a meme ripped through the Psych_Slash community that couldn't be stopped. "Put your music on shuffle," they said, "and write little fics for the first ten songs you hear."

Well, how are you supposed to not instantly have that on the brain every time you hear a song? I was thinking of it again the other day, and I was thinking of the Avengers simultaneously, and then this happened. To be fair, I cheated by only ticking down songs I instantly got an idea for, but whatever. Cheating is awesome. ...Yeah. I also only did six, because... because. Whatever. 

Fic: Songs of Vengeance (six drabbles)
Fandom: The Avengers
Pairing/Characters: Loki/Tony, Loki/Thor, Natasha, Steve



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Hmm thinks Perry.

Fic: Indeterminacy - The Avengers

Wow. Livejournal. It's been a... long time, it turns out. I kind of fell off the face of the internet, doing non-fandom writing and having a job and all that good stuff, but then I watched the Avengers movie and then I watched Thor and then I fell down the rabbit hole of fandom again and, well, here I am. 

This story is fucking weird. It's born of lots of scotch and reading everything astolat has ever written and also what lots of other people have written, and no one had yet said the thing I kept thinking, and--well, shit, sometimes you just have to do it yourself. So.

If you're confused about timing: the first section is just after the events of The Avengers, followed chronologically by the second and third sections; the fourth section happens kind of throughout all of time and space; the fifth section happens... well, after the fourth one and also sort of immediately after the third one; and then the last section covers an imaginary version of Thor: The Dark World. 

Title: Indeterminacy
Fandom: The Avengers/Thor/Norse mythology
Pairing: Loki/Thor, Loki/Angrbotha, Loki/OC
Rating: R
Summary: "I do it because I want to hurt you," Loki says, staring unblinking at Thor, and the pale skin around his mouth is cracked by the irritation of the just-removed gag, raw and bloody. "I want to hurt you. Is it not obvious? Is there anything else I could do?"



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If you want to know more about indeterminism, read on here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Indeterminism

Big props if you got through it. Would appreciate a comment.


the river runs through it

Fic: Divergence - Firefly

I've been watching a lot of Firefly lately. I think Jayne is my favorite character - but the most interesting relationship is between Simon and River. This happened accidentally this afternoon. It's okay. I do like River's justification, though. I hope the non-con is clear.

Title: Divergence
Fandom: Firefly
Pairing: Simon/River
Rating: R
Summary: She needs to show him, and this is the only way she knows.


 

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Firefly people: do you think she's in character? Non-Firefly people: become Firefly people.

 

 

psychic

sylvia & valentine

"Sylvia is writing a poem, I think – judging by the sharply indrawn breath, and her endless cigarettes. She is curled up on the chair next to her writing table, elbows on the table, and one leg curled under her small buttocks. Her hair looks very black against her pretty pink coat. How narrow her hands are – How deeply I love her. My eyes constantly stray from this page, across to her. How much, and how completely I love her."
the river runs through it

Poison - original story

I'm really, really, really tired, so this is going to be brief. Normally, I'd try to preface this a little more, beg for attention. I do like attention, that's true. (ZOMG COMMENTS.) As it stands, though, I wrote this in approximately four hours and I'm not sure if it's any good. Maybe it is.

If you've read the apocryphal Bible story of Judith, this will probably make a tiny bit more sense. But, you know, maybe not. One note: I'm considering whether "Holofernes" really has to die at the end.

Anyway:

 

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the river runs through it

tweetstalking

Writing slash in 140 characters or less:

Ianto wrapped a shaky hand over Jack's neck and hitched himself closer. Not bad for a first time, Jack thought, and then Ianto moved again.


For all his beauty, all it took for Ianto to make Jack's invulnerable heart stop beating was to stand at his sink, in boxers, flossing.


A cool laugh fluttered across Zuko's overheated skin and he gulped down air, eyes closed, trying not to scorch the sheets in his fists.

He ran slow fingers along the sweat-damp spine.



(Also: I just saw an unmarked white van... with portholes. So the kidnapping victim can at least see some light? ...OR SO THEY CAN GO TO SEA?)
the river runs through it

excerpted from Intercourse, by Robert Olen Butler

William Shakespeare
29, poet and playwright

Henry Wriotheseley, Third Earl of Southampton
20, courtier and literary patron


in Shakespeare's rooms in St. Helen's Bishopsgate
, London, 1593


William

proud Nature humbled by the work of its own hand: his azure eye, his auburn trees, the chest it hangs on white as the sun can seem when veiled in silken cloud, his silken doublet white as cloud cast off to bare the fire beneath, and if his heart be sun and his chest be sky then his eye be heaven and his earth below be forested lush around a great high oak that stands stripped clean of limbs from the lightning strike: I give my limbs to this land and touch his beating heart and burn, and yet he is night as well as day, a well as well as tree, a well dug deep and dark and I send my vessel down: he is, in flesh, the world inconsonant made one: my young man, my dark lady

Henry

I soon will lie alone and he will cross the room and sit at his table and once again he will take up his goose quill and find it blunt and take up his knife and bend and squint and turn slightly to the light from the window and begin his sweet circumcision, playing at the tip with the blade, making it less blunt, then sharp, then sharper still, and he will pause and touch the tip to his tongue and he will pull the ink pot nearer to him and dip the pen, dip it deep, the tip growing wet and dark, and he will withdraw and let it drip and drip till it stops, and then he will bend to his paper and his words will come and the tiny scratch of his quill will shudder its way up my thighs and I am pen and I am ink and I am his words
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psychic

oh, also -

Romantics: Johannes Brahms and Clara Schumann
-          Lisel Mueller

 

The modern biographers worry
“how far it went,” their tender friendship.
They wonder just what it means
when he writes he thinks of her constantly,
his guardian angel, beloved friend.
The modern biographers ask
the rude, irrelevant question
of our age, as if the event
of two bodies meshing together
establishes the degree of love,
forgetting how softly Eros walked
in the nineteenth century, how a hand
held overlong or a gaze anchored
in someone’s eyes could unseat a heart,
and nuances of address not known
in our egalitarian language
could make the redolent air
tremble and shimmer with the heat
of possibility. Each time I hear
the Intermezzi, sad
and lavish in their tenderness,
I imagine the two of them
sitting in a garden
among late-blooming roses
and dark cascades of leaves,
letting the landscape speak for them,
leaving us nothing to overhear.


Hwhat?!

the world's first guitar-playing redwood tree

Feeling pretty fuzzy and at peace with the world this morning. Last night (and this morning) BB whileintucson  and I played violent videogames, drank girly alcohol, and talked about ladies we find attractive until my brain was going to leak out my ear. Pretty awesome, even if my stupid internal clock did wake me up at nine today. But I don't care, because now I have a warm mug of Earl Grey and some PB&honey on toast, and my kitties are sleeping on either side of me. I mean, it doesn't get much better than that.

And it's even better than that, actually, because BOB IS IN ARIZONA YAY HOORAY FUNTIMES. He'll be staying with various members of the Clan around the state until we go to Los Angeles to scoop up Mike/get ready for the wedding. So exciting! I mean, I do feel bad that bb Amanda has to languish in Ann Arbor without her Bobby, but... well, he was my Bobby first, and sometimes I get a little selfish. Plus, on August 9th he'll go back to Michigan and be legally, officially transferred over to her. So I feel like I get to hoard him a little in the interim.

I'm not really sure what'll be happening for the next few weeks, except that I need to seriously get some hours in at work. Paying the full share of the bills is depleting bb Z's bank account too damn quickly. I know I'm going to be paid back, it's just... ack. On August 2nd I may have three dollars left to my name.

Hm. Now thinking about watching the Airbender cartoon, in hopes that it'll be a little better than the movie. Here, by the way, is the problem with the movie: it was made for children. Now, normally that's not an issue - it is a cartoon, right? - but where Nickelodeon failed was in not recognizing that humans have pretty sophisticated narrative minds almost from birth. Pixar knows this, which is why their "for children" cartoons are routinely nominated for Oscars - their directors, writers, and editors know that even young children can recognize tropes and themes extremely quickly, and so they can present the plot in intelligent and refreshing ways. Nickelodeon (I can only assume) made the tragic mistake of thinking its viewers were morons, so every single step in Airbender's plot was broadcast about twenty minutes before it happened, and the audience spent the whole movie waiting for the pace to pick up. I wonder what Ebert thought about it.

I should probably go to the grocery store today, but I'm probably just going to end up watching Netflix and drinking tea. Tragedy!

 - kisses