Flutterings

[The subject line's from Allen Ginsberg's The Lion for Real]

A downside to being an adult: having to say no to picnic plans because copyediting comparative lit crit is currently kicking my butt.

An upside to being an adult: I am currently baking banana-cardamom-rum-chocolate-chip bread. Because the bananas were ripe, and because I can.

Another downside: more mourning. The price of becoming fond of more people.

Another upside: friends sending Smooch Lions!



In today's mailbox: the newest issue of UU World, which includes my poem "Proportions."

Horsies I correctly picked to win today: Dancing Lion (Monmouth allowance), Imposing Grace (Arlington Matron Stakes)

A horse that placed: Admiral Kitten (Arlington Classic)

Alan's feeling about bronze, a metal with hard permanence, conveys that fluidity between worlds. "It sort of has its own life. It’s the only metal that has that living quality."

- Captured in Bronze: The Lequire Legacy

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Happy birthday, xanthophyllippa! May the year bring you much ski-upon-worthy snow, cooperative classes, fruitful friendships, and a jillion other joys to brighten your being. (Friends with cheesy alliteration attacks notwithstanding. ;-) )

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(Dining table back to looking like a paper-gobbling triceratops threw up all over it. Skimming journals only sporadically. Owe so many notes and cards. Sending all y'all heaps of energy and encouragement to do what needs doing. When I do peek in, I glimpse wonder and hilarity and passionate engagement, and it makes me miss you like you wouldn't believe, and it inspires me.)

Here's to a great year ahead for you! In celebration, a leetle fic in your honor (and inspired by some of your quirks... *g*):

Title: Fruitful
Rating: work-safe
Wordcount: 176
Disclaimer: All characters are Sanami Matoh's. The jacket shows up in Brit's A New Day.


( Dudes, gotta hide! Ryo's on the warpath! )

Nineveh-uk, a rustle in the branches mentioned it being your birthday. I fear that St. George/Charles remains beyond me, but hope Ivan/Jerry will do as a token offering.

Title: Running, They Never Run From It Away (pace Donne)
Pairing: Ivan Vorpatril/the 17th Duke of Denver (Viscount St. George in Wimsey canon)
Rating: G
Words: 178
Premise: I don't subscribe to the apocrypha that St. George bought it in WWII. At any rate, imagine both lads in their late 30s, a friendship developing over periodic hops in space/time by Lord Vorpatril...


Ivan Vorpatril allowed himself to shiver once the door closed behind his companion's visitors. When Jerry raised an eyebrow at him, he said, "Your uncle's manservant. He reminds me a little too much of my cousin Gregor."

"Oh? Does this Gregor mercilessly drench you in a cold, silent shower of you can do better than thises every time he sets eyes on you?" The words were as light as spun sugar, and as brittle as candy glass.

"He doesn't bother with the you can do betters," Ivan said, his shoulders still hunched up. "These days, he just sends me onto the next 'little job' he needs done before I even get out a 'hello.'"

Jerry sidled over to Ivan's chair, casually seating himself on one of the antique armrests. "Saying 'no' isn't an option?"

Ivan said, helplessly, "It was what I was born to do."

Jerry glanced at the coat of arms on the firescreen, the familiar cat and three mice courant forever mocking him. He placed his hands on Ivan's shoulders as he murmured, "I really do understand."

There once was a fan named Valis
renowned for her absence of malice
as through each vacation
with lens and crustacean
she analysed Snape's busy phallus.

(Happy birthday, sweetie! *grins and flees*)

Dear bitterfig, I am late in the day, but this is for you. May your 37th year bring you better health and bright joys.

( If I owned the wind and the trees, I would )

(1) drachenmina's An Unpleasant Man at the Bellona Club (drabble with LP, Bunter, and Snape...)

(2) drachenmina's An Inconvenient Affliction. Author's summary: "Harry’s been kicked out by Severus and is having to share Ron and Hermione’s spare bed with Crookshanks. Who gets Kneazle Flu. Can things get any worse? Oh yes." Ribbons's reaction: It's NC-17 Snarry, which I know some of you would normally avoid like the plague, but I feel compelled to point out that Harry's of age, there's non-sickening Hermione/Ron, there's mention of Bagpuss, and that the author knows cats. Oh, does she know cats. Put beverages out of range of keyboard before reading.

(3) It has been a hell of a week - one of these years, I hope to get my shit together enough to stop feeling like I haven't managed to get my shit together since, well, ever...

...but it is also absolutely impossible to feeling sorry for myself for more than a few moments at a time, considering the myriad blessings in my life -- including a surprise package in Monday's mail that contained...



...a necklace featuring the Whomping Willow. With a Snape quotation, no less. Made by the utterly, unbelievably fabulous westernredcedar. (I almost titled this post "From tree to shining tree..." *eg*) I feel like I've somehow won some sort of cosmic bingo for OTP-indulgence I didn't even know I was playing - I can snuggle the pendant up to my squid when I'm not wearing it, and when I feel like celebrating my other OTP, there's a Remus-keytag marginaliana made it can nestle with.

And I can also go revisit the other treasures written and drawn and translated for me, or inhale a scent, or brew some tea, or reread cards and letters, or fondle feathers, beads, and ribbons -- I have such clever, crafty, comforting, generous friends. I am so utterly grateful that you are in my life. It's not the things in themselves, fun and hilarious and charming as they are - they wouldn't matter one bit if they weren't infused with how you are fun and feisty and thought-provoking and thoughtful. And because they are and because you are, my life is rich beyond measure.

The wrongness: The Dark Is Rising movie is sponsoring a fanfic contest for teenagers. On FanLib.

Actually, I should hold off on the snark until I see what transpires. After all, it'll likely prompt some kids to read the source material, which would be to the good.

The goodness: it's musigneus's birthday! How is she marvelous? Let me enumerate a handful of the ways:

(1) she was one of the very first people to comment on my fics, and she has continued to provide encouragement and sympathy during my protracted battles with plotzillas.

(2) she issued my skyehawke invitation.

(3) she has written some of my favorite Snape/Lupin fics. The Short Measure series is one of my comfort reads.

(4) she beta'd two not-yet-in-circulation fics that I consider among my better stories.

(5) she digs science and children's books and other niftinesses.

Happy birthday, dear one! *lights fireworks and scampers off to hunt down a certain plot-bauble*

Title: Taken, Not Granted
Author: bronze_ribbons
Pairings: Tonks/Lupin, Lupin/Snape
Warning: adultery and angst (no, they aren't synonyms)
Rating: R
Words: ~ 1600
Summary: It was not the epiphany Snape had been looking for.
Beta: the beauteous busaikko (who suggests the White Stripes' cover of "Jolene" after reading this)
A/N: For regan_v, in honour of her birthday. She recently reminded her friends that she's been harbouring a hankering for fics about Snape as a party to adultery. I hope this helps scratch a corner of the itch. :-)

( Read more... )

For thermidor. Happy birthday, gal, and may the Force of Well-Wrought Clawses be with you always.

[100 words, G, Snape/Lupin, Draco/Charlie.]


“It looks like a giant lobster,” Lupin mildly observed.

Draco hid his mortification by demanding, “Since when was lobster ever in your budget?

Lupin’s pleasant expression didn’t change. “As it happens, tomalley’s an essential ingredient in Wolfsbane.”

Snape was eyeing the hybrid dragon speculatively. “We could experiment…”

Draco groaned. “Do you ever look at anything without seeing it as a prospective ingredient?”

Lupin murmured, “If it’s not an ingredient, it’s usually target practice.”

Snape shot him an “Is not!” look. Lupin slyly added, “I’m often one or the other.”

“Fine, Lupin. You measure the creature for its jumper from Molly.”