no, not the young people. they shall be spared.

amor_remanet @ 2009-11-23T01:08:00

2009-11-23T06:10:46Z

I have a morose in my heart place.

Comment below and I will tell you which of your characters that I've played against are my favorites and why I love them. Then repost this in your own journal.

for omystarling. ♥

2009-11-13T21:56:12Z

Title: A Haven for This Heart.
Characters: Barty Crouch Jr. & Bellatrix Lestrange; mentions of several others.
Requested by: omystarling
Prompt: "And walked among the lowest of the dead"
Summary: "I would never ask that of you."
Rating: PGish. It's tame, really, especially considering the subjects.
For: this thing.

Never did occur to Barty that the wards keeping Muggles where they oughtn't be could falter and wither with time. The ones at Hogwarts never wavered. Maybe the professors all kept them in check. The Founders' magic was powerful, but so, in theory, are the wards around the ruins on the Aesalons' Theban estate. Perhaps, it's just precautionary, having Demetrius and Aquila make the rounds to strengthen everything.

It wasn't meant to happen this way. Nothing was. At least, when those equality-minded upstarts charged them, seeking to reclaim "their" Wizarding Britain, those of the Dark Lord's numbers who could run did so. Before this, it was France, and they stayed in safety until Marius got seen. They had to leave for his sake.

At least Demetrius has family abroad. At least the Grecian Ministry has no idea that they're here, and, if there were any hints, Purist philosophy runs deep within in the Peloponnesus. Officially, Demetrius's uncle assured them all over supper — officially, the government will be compelled to condemn the Death Eaters' actions. On the international stage, the bureaucrats cannot afford to seem sympathetic to murderers and terrorists. However, they will grant the Dark Lord's fallen ranks the protection they need.

Should anyone attempt to stop it, there's always Germany or Russia. Antonin's family is legion and they will protect their own at all costs. Besides that, some stink of the Muggles' "war" of non-communication has carried into the magical realm. The Russian Ministry will refuse any favours for the British; there's too much communication between them, the French, and the Americans. And, should that fail, there are other options. China and Siberia are both too large to look for a ragged band of twelve. They could lose the Aurors in the Urals. They could leave Eurasia all together and seek amnesty in Africa, Australia, the old Spanish colonies in the Americas…

Running brings them no closer to a victory, but it's what they need to do, it's how they must survive until they can fight back.

They need Rodolphus. More than that, they need their Lord. And Barty, for his part, needs Regulus. He needs to feel more youth inside his bones, not this premature age that makes them creak after only twenty-one years on Earth; getting taller wasn't worth it, and he needs it to stop. But, as is all too often the case, some things are not destined to come to them. Regulus is dead, his disappearance still a mystery. Their Lord is in hiding, regaining his strength for when they can strike back. Rodolphus, like too many of their number, is dead. Of everyone they need, he alone could be called 'deader than dead.' Their opponents made sure of that.

What Bellatrix needs, Barty does not know, but as he watches her slink away into the night, briefly, he considers that she could need to be alone. Fingering his pocket watch, a family heirloom he stole when he felled his father like the scum he was, Barty looks off at the trail she weaves through the night. He keeps an eye trained on her back until long after he's lost sight of her, thumb running over the engraving of the family crest, the family motto, etched deep into the silver: Ad maioram bonam. To the greater good… such words for such a time.

Idly observing the night, the stars, the utter lack of moon, Barty returns the watch to where it belongs. Barty's hand instead brushes against the one possession he wishes that he didn't have. He wraps his fingers around it and even now, eighteen months, two weeks, three days, six hours, and twenty-seven minutes after watching another casket descend into the earth, all he feels is an aching where his heart should beat. He wonders, does it snow in Thebes? How long will they be here, in the first place; how much time do they have before their clemency expires? Will it be long enough to see the advent of forgetful snow? Will it be long enough to watch it melt and see encroaching flowers take its place?

How long will it be until another one of their number dies? Who will it be next time? What new wounds will carve themselves into society's chest and who will pour the salt into them? Too many of them have wives and families to care for — Lucius, Leoben, Demetrius, Marius, Aquila. Rabastan has not yet wed Anzhelina, and the likelihood of that happening diminishes every day. Mister Nott's children haven't seen their father once since they left Britain; getting the three of them and Mrs. Nott out of the country has been too difficult.

As he sets off down the steps, Barty doesn't light his wand. On the parts of the estate closer to the manor, there's ambient light enough to see; here, though, he doesn't want it. Illuminating anything ruins it for him. Ever her lapdog — or Aquila's come to call him so — Barty follows Bellatrix's footsteps in the dirt path. He traces them all the way to the western wall of the estate and finds her leaning on it, just outside the gateway, on the side toward the city. For several minutes, he just stands beside her, hands folded behind him, letting silence settle in between them. He pretends not to notice that her eyes are bloodshot red and he ignores the paths where tears ran down her pale face.

"Tell them not to concern themselves," she tells him, her voice shaking to establish itself. "They need not worry. I will return when I am ready to do so."

"No one sent me," Barty whispers. "My reasons for coming were mine alone."

The starlight dances on her hair and face, and he feels her eyes upon him. "So, what were they?"

"My own," he says, though he knows that this will not suffice. She quirks an eyebrow; he looks at her long enough to see it. "I may have spoken too soon," he confesses. "Using the plural in this case was not entirely accurate."

When she directs him, "Elaborate," there is no warmth inside her voice, but there is no coldness either.

In the distance, the city shines, a diamond in their frozen night. Barty turns away from it. He shows it his back and steps to stand in front of Bellatrix, looks right into her grey eyes, hewn like hematite in her winter pale face. Deeply wrought into the core of his being, a long-standing anxiety begins to writhe. It thrashes at him like a maenad, and claws up his insides, but where he might have lost his head before, where he may have succumbed to fretting and to flailing, he inhales to his stomach and regards her with an expression of solidity. His face stays stable, even as he takes the necklace out of his pocket.

Eyebrows raised, he holds it up between them. The chain glistens and the charm dangles, glimmering. The fine-cut heart of pale, blue-white diamond swings like a pendulum, like all the hours he has wasted until now, like the clock ticking away the precious minutes, the undefined number of them that they have left.

Bartemius Hallam Crouch, Jr., has done too much running in his life and all it's ever been is a fate worse than death. As he closes the distance between them, as he takes one of her hands in his, he knows that they must keep running still. All of them must; in this case, it's run or die. None of the Aurors will show them mercy this time, and they need to redouble before they stand a chance. Barty isn't an idiot; he knows that, now, they need to run. But he does not run from this.

He holds her pale wrist, his fingers wrapped around her bones. Gently, he lowers the necklace into her palm and wraps her fingers around the faded silver chain. "It was my mother's," he tells her, his voice low and deferential. Stark and sober as an empty grave, he does not look away from her eyes. He keeps his fingers on top of hers; the hand on her wrist moves to cradle her hand. "I would like for you to have it."

Again, her eyebrow quirks at him. She tries to pull her wrist away, but the way she does is more like playing than like actual avoidance. "Am I to be the receptacle for your unwanted memories, Barty?"

"Of course not," he tells her. His voice is stronger, louder— but he doesn't raise his voice. "Bellatrix, I… If you feel I am speaking out of turn, I apologise and you may take any retribution for it that you see fit, but, considering our present situation… I wouldn't be able to live with myself if anything unfortunate were to happen to you without my sharing this."

"So cut to the point then," she tells him, whispering like the Edenic serpent. "What, pray tell, can prey so heavily on Barty Crouch's mind?"

"Bellatrix, I — I know…" he starts, his anxiety rattles at its cage. "I know that this is quite improper, and for several reasons… and I know that you are still meant to be in mourning, but…"

"But…" she prompts him, both her eyebrows elevated.

The hand below hers moves to cup her face. With a sigh, he closes the final distance and steals a kiss of her soft, unyielding lips. Always a surprise, she kisses back and they ascend to their passions quickly. Open-mouthed and hungry. Selfish and selfless. For each other. For themselves. Their held hands come up between him, to let him better access her mouth, and he feels her fingers cleaving tightly to the chain.

When they separate, he stays close to her. His heart pounds hard enough to make him shake, and his own breath feels lacking to his lungs. As he brushes his thumb across her cheek, she tells him, "I can never love you in return, Barty."

Nodding, he replies, "I would never ask that of you."

for giraffery. ♥

2009-11-13T08:54:58Z

Title: I will carry you home in my teeth.
Characters: The House of Atreus (Elaine, Mitchell, Virginia, Kilgore, Louise, Davin the First, Sid, Anaïs, James, and Alex); Mr. & Mrs. Greer; Mr. Fagels; Eleanor Brown; Raleigh Hausmann-Brookes; Dr. Matt Moriarty.
Requested by: giraffery
Prompt: "Grendel's mother."
Summary: "All her life, she's been a fighter."
Rating: PG-13ish. Nothing major; it's mostly just familial dysfunction.
For: this thing.

It is 1988 and Elaine's mother is singularly failing to pretend that there is no tension between them. The summer months mean that Elaine gets to see her children. Anaïs is with her father, Siddhartha is with his grandfather, and gathered in the constraints of the Ithaca, NY kitchen, Virginia sits at the table reading. Louise bustles around, tidying up after family brunch. Opposite Virginia, Elaine holds Kilgore, aged only four years, in her lap, along with his constant accompaniment, his decrepit stuffed hippopotamus.

As he cradles the over-loved green thing, Elaine leans him into her chest. She rests her chin on his head and strokes his hair. Though he's said nothing, she knows something doesn't feel right between the two of them. It feels off through the whole house, and, perhaps Elaine can excuse it here. While everyone else is content to ignore Alex's absence, Kilgore can't be expected to acknowledge it. He's only met his maternal uncle a handful of times to begin with, and so far, the most coherent sentence he's ever spoken to Alex has been, "You're big." Thinking on it now makes Elaine squeeze Kilgore's shoulder just a little tighter. As she squeezes her son, as she kisses the top of his head, her lungs feel constricted.

Alex's absence cannot be mended by relying so much on her son, much less on her youngest, too young to know the difference.

"Can you believe the nerve of your brother, Elaine?" Louise says out of nowhere, not even looking up from her round of dishes. "I don't mind that he's a homosexual, of course I don't — your father's friend, Professor Rosenthal. He's a homosexual and he's a lovely man. It's not at all an issue, but to not tell any of us… It does hurt me."

"If it isn't an issue, Mother," Elaine says, her voice lower and more vicious than she has ever known it to be, "then why do you keep bringing it up?"

Virginia looks up from her Austen, eyes wide. Louise turns from the sink and her face is salmon pink. "Excuse me?"

Elaine can understand their surprise; of all the people she fights, Louise is never on the list. But she narrows her eyes, and rests a hand on Kilgore's head to steady herself. She is on the Trojan battlefields now, and fighting for something far more precious than Helen. "You're uncomfortable with Alex's sexual orientation," Elaine says plainly, no notes of accusation in her voice. "This isn't a crime. I think you and your husband could both be more open-minded, and, even so, it's not my place to correct your opinions. But at least do my brother the courtesy of being honest with him. Alex deserves that from you."

She doesn't wait for Louise's reply. Gently, Elaine coaxes the hippo out of Kilgore's arms; she nudges his arms around her shoulders. Carrying both of them, she goes to the wooden swing on the back deck, overlooking the expansive backyard. She holds her son close to her heart and he seems to know not to say anything. It bothers him. Underneath her hand, he's tense and occasionally, he shifts under her, moving his stuffed animal and making noise as though he wants to say something. But he doesn't.

Finally, he straightens up. He cranes his neck up to kiss her cheek. He whispers, "Mommy, I love you."

She smoothes out his hair and kisses his forehead. "I love you too, Kilgore."

~*~

Mister and Mrs. Greer seemed to think that Elaine would be afraid of them. Deference was what they expected from parents, in these situations. Instead, Elaine sat opposite them, proud and defiant as Hera herself, all of her expressions cold. Though Mitchell sat beside her, he was less involved in the debate, and his presence commanded less attention.

"My daughter is no common cheater," Elaine tells them, her voice hissing and allowing no room for a discussion of this. "And it is by no means her fault that neither of you has much more than sawdust sitting between your ears. Step up to your titles and give Virginia the caliber of teaching she deserves or, so help me, I will not rest until both of you are barred from educating young minds for the rest of your earthly lives."

~*~

Never has Elaine liked Mitchell's brother, and never has she bothered to bite her tongue about this. Standing in the doorway to Kilgore's bedroom, though, watching Davin explain performing magic tricks for his nephew, and watching Kilgore, enthralled, enraptured, all of six years old and so devoted to his uncle… she has to keep quiet. Or at least she needs to keep her words down. Before too long, she coughs to get their attention. Kilgore startles as though she's catching him peeking at his Christmas presents early. Davin is singularly unimpressed.

Tapping Kilgore's shoulder, Davin tells him, "Go downstairs, kiddo. Go see if Sid and Anaïs need help putting the tree together."

Kilgore nods and, without a word, scuttles out to follow through on this. Mitchell's reported having difficulty getting Kilgore to handle simple six-year-old chores. Entire face dark, Elaine closes the door. She leans against it and crosses her arms over her chest. All Davin does is chuckle.

"You know… I appreciate the spirit," he says, his laughter unrestrained, his eyebrows arched in a mocking, sardonic mask. "But you can't intimidate me, Jadis."

"I don't need to intimidate you," she tells him bluntly. His nickname, despite what he thinks, is far from creative. "If I wanted you to be afraid, I would let you watch while I took your testicles as a trophy." Her face stays straight; for all the outlandishness in her proposal, she is dead serious.

"So is that what gets Mitchie Mouse off? I always thought he'd have a kink for that—"

"It is Christmas, Davin, and Mitchell asked me to invite you." No holiday warmth seeps into her syllables, and in her voice is a blizzard enough for ten white Christmases and more. "For whatever reason, he's decided to attempt making nice with you and it's not my place to stop him. I only wish to be clear with you on one thing."

Davin leans back, palms flat on Kilgore's mattress. "And what's that, oh Wicked Bitch of the East?"

Another nickname. Childish. "Regardless of what you think you're doing, Kilgore is mine and Mitchell's son, not yours. I am not going to say that your brother is always the best father to our youngest, but every time you attempt to subvert Mitchell's place, you are not helping anyone but yourself." …Even so, she has to admit: Kilgore's at his happiest when he's with his uncle. Outright taking that away from him would kill him, and Elaine can't do that. "Learn some subtlety when you malign your brother, or, so help me, you and Kilgore will not be spending any more time together."

For once, she sees Davin's permanent smirk come to falter.

~*~

The phone call earlier in the week had started out so very formulaic. Yes, she was Doctor Elaine Andrews. Yes, Siddhartha was her son.

And then the tides had turned: no, she hadn't been signing her name to excuse him from gym class. No, she had no idea of what was going on. No one had told her anything.

Mitchell stands by her now. Both of them have convened in Ithaca, him from New Haven and her from Bennington. Siddhartha and Anaïs are both out with friends; James and Louise are preoccupied with scotch and newspapers. Kilgore is in New Haven; Mitchell's parents have come down to watch him until Mitchell can get back.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he sighs. "I don't see why all this fuss is necessary—"

"Mitchell, when they tried to call Virginia a cheater, I fought for her. Why wouldn't I do the same for Siddhartha?"

"Aren't you always the one saying that Kilgore needs to learn the value of accepting consequences?" As she looks at him, she feels her face paling. "I — Elaine, I'm not calling you a hypocrite, God, no, of course not, I just… Siddhartha got caught. He doesn't know it yet, but… let him accept what happens when you get caught faking sick out of class."

She narrows her eyes like a viper ready to strike. "He faked sick out of gym class, Mitchell," she hisses. "But, more importantly, our son wouldn't do something like that without a damn good reason and I would sooner die than let that school and its administration hold that against him."

She puts on her coat and slides on her shoes. As she leaves, she turns back to her husband and informs him, "If you say so much as a peep to Sddhartha, I swear to God: we will not make love again until you're too old to sustain an erection anyway."

Mitchell says nothing and it's just as well. If he started talking, Elaine might be all too inclined to slam the door, and she isn't sure that James and Louise's house can take any more abuse.

~*~

All things considered, Elaine is hardly surprised when she gets another call from the school, and this one, she sees no reason to dignify by leaving Vermont. Where Siddhartha was being actively hounded by people looking to make him suffer for inane reasons; now, some math instructor has gotten far too big for his position.

"Doctor Andrews," he breathes as hyperventilating. "Surely, you can appreciate my position here. I'm not saying that your daughter isn't intelligent, but, with her marks—"

"Mister Fagles," she cuts him off with a bear-trap snap. "For the past half-hour, all you have said to me is that you are not the kind of teacher Anaïs deserves. I won't defend her if you feel she has disrespected you in a genuine fashion, but the situation appears to me to be very cut and dry. My daughter is intelligent, and passionate, and driven, and you, sir, feel personally slighted that her passions do not include imaginary numbers and finding the area of a circle without knowing its radius. That, Mister Fagels, is called egocentrism, and I will not allow you to inflict it on my daughter."

~*~

As Elaine sits in the waiting room of this Doctor Moriarty, she only counts her lucky stars that she picked a day and time when no other patients are there. One is in with the doctor right now, as the pretty, vapid receptionist informed Elaine when she came in, but if she waits here, then maybe Doctor Matt will make an exception for her. It needs to be an exception, seeing as Elaine doesn't have an appointment to be here.

"Wait, Andrews?" the receptionist asked, some look of recognition dawning on her face, after Elaine revealed her name. Whatever it was, it had looked about as positive as the omens before the birth of Oedipus. "Are you Davin's mother?"

"Yes," Elaine told her. "He's my youngest."

The redhead had looked like she knew something unfriendly, but her perfect, gleaming smile had been back after hardly two seconds.

Elaine can't even bring herself to read the paper now. She checks her watch, her email on her phone, her text messages to see if Mitchell's yet noticed his missing Klonopin and Viagra or the fact that she's borrowed his car without asking... No signs of life from anywhere, and the second hand on her watch takes advantage of the opportunity to stretch out each tick. The time moves so slowly that Elaine might succumb to vertigo, or to anxious nausea. Although the circumstances are so wildly different than anything she's encountered before, although she cancelled her classes for an extra week, although she wouldn't tell even her closest friends at Bennington anything beyond, 'My son needs me' — although all of that is different, it isn't as though she hasn't sat in a waiting room before. Mitchell sat with her as they waited for every sonogram, and she sat with him after his students complained about his increasing agitation, waiting to meet his Dean of Faculty-suggested psychiatrist.

How she wishes he would be with her here, waiting with her now. Nothing about this visit has been easy. Very little about their marriage ever has been, and, for both of them, this has been a necessary feature of how they work. Without the difficulty, it would be all too easy not to care. Perhaps, Elaine supposes, she could have been more delicate with Mitchell through all this time. She could have asked him to come to the PFLAG meeting with her, rather than kidnapping him. She could have given him the benefit of the doubt and skipped lecturing him about respecting Rafe before the twins' birthday dinner. She could have been more receptive after their talk with Aaron, when she'd left the room to cry and Mitchell tried to put a hand on her shoulder and say something witty and charming, the way he always did.

But, to her credit, he should have known better. He's having subconscious suicidal thoughts, Aaron had told them about their youngest son, and that hadn't even been the worst of it. Depressive spiral, psychotic break, self-harm, ketosis, organ failure, Kilgore's body being in starvation mode… if ever there hadn't been a time for Mitchell's usual charms, it had been then.

Looking at her watch again, Elaine feels her heart plummeting. All her life, she's been a fighter. In public, and in private; over socio-political issues and over personal ones; for everything that she believes in, and, more than anything (she likes to think) for her family — always, whether or not they knew she's done it, she's been the one taking up arms and charging into battle. But this war can't be waged against something tangible, like oppressive teachers, or her late mother, or Mitchell's atrocious brother; and, for the first time, Elaine isn't sure that she can win. So it goes: in the one instance where she needs to win, the battle looks hardest and the outcome looks the grimmest.

The door opens and Elaine looks up. Some small, fragile looking young woman exits first. Her eyes are wide and, for a moment, she stares at Elaine as though she's expecting to be met with retribution for something or other. Looking over her shoulder, she says, "Goodbye, Doctor Matt."

"Goodbye, Raleigh," this doctor replies from within the office.

She scuttles out like a skittish crab, and Elaine rises to her feet. Hearing something, the doctor comes out to meet her. He's tall, like Kilgore, but far more solid. His face is serious, and possessed with gorgeous bone structure.

"Hello," he says, his voice smooth and soothing. "And you are..."

Force of habit would compel her to extend a hand, but she keeps her arms crossed over her stomach instead. "Doctor Elaine Andrews." Her introduction comes out shaky. "I'm sure that Davin's told you about me before."

Another look of grim recognition. A nod. "That would be one way of describing it, Doctor Andrews."

"Elaine," she tells him. "Please. …I know that I don't have an appointment... but Davin's sister, Virginia, is engaged to Doctor Aaron Leeley, from the medical center. He's the one who helped me find you." She pauses. She sighs. She runs a hand back through my hair. She doesn't want to cry again, not here, in front of this kind stranger who's been treating her son. "…I don't know all of what Davin's told you about me, but, considering our relationship, I'm assuming it hasn't all been good. I am not going to defend myself; I haven't been a perfect mother, and I haven't been helpful, but… Doctor Leeley talked to me and my husband. About this situation, and I — I just want to know how to proceed. I want to help my son."

The doctor nods and gestures to the interior of his office. "Please come in, Elaine."

amor_remanet @ 2009-11-10T15:01:00

2009-11-10T20:25:53Z

Stolen from loads of people, because I'm doing STUFF!^TM while I'm still energetic.

Comment with one of my characters and one of yours, and the number of a prompt from the list, and I will write you a fic! Let me know if you want friendship or shipping.

PROMPTS COBBLED TOGETHER FROM LOTS OF PLACES
(because I'm incapable of making things easy.)

1. a night with no stars GWP, splott
2. "And walked among the lowest of the dead" (TS Eliot) Bella & Barty, omystarling (A Haven for This Heart.)
3. Grendel's mother the House of Atreus, stars_destined (who needs to get an OOC journal already) (I will carry you home in my teeth.)
4. the ballroom at midnight Seph & Barty, venezia
5. a vision softly creeping
6. stranger in a strange land Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid, musify (who loves me and wanted to share the Ben Barnes love by commenting with smokeandmirror)
7. effect of impact on stationary objects Evan & Andy, fruityoatybar (who was a lazy and commented with clickit)
8. a red violin and half a glass of wine the Barty Crouches, Jr. and Sr., parisian
9. becoming a monster
10. the seventh circle
11. incense and tobacco
12. skulduggery Barty and Jacqueline, greyskyeyes
13. "It's so cold out here, I’m freezing." Ian and Andy, brogue
14. "I wanted to forget about my problems." Rudy and Evan, brogue
15. All the tears of God
16. These Are Things Man Was Not Meant to Know

amor_remanet @ 2009-11-05T16:03:00

2009-11-05T21:15:36Z

Holy snaps cup, Batman.

I don't remember when the last one of these I saw was; I just remember that I didn't participate and comment on nearly enough people's posts. This time, it's my resolution to do better, and so I will.

My only real complaint about the past few days is that the leg I busted at Rocky Horror is restless. It is both sprained and restless. So, I've been taking it easy, trying to NaNo/RP/write for class/do my research assistant stuff, and, then, out of nowhere, it'll start going, "You know what we should do? THINGS. We should go do THINGS. Like, I don't know, DDR. Or running a marathon. Or going up and down the steepest hill on campus just because! Or, or, or SOMETHING. That'd be AWESOME, let's do stuff." …And it's sprained, so I can't do much more with it than the awkward, gimpy walk thing I can do with my crutches. I had no idea a limb could be both sprained and restless.

amor_remanet @ 2009-10-26T03:08:00

2009-10-26T07:46:48Z

Strictly speaking, I have other things to do. I just don't care right now.

+ Pick 20 of your favourite movies.
+ Go to IMDb.com and find a quote from each movie.
+ Post them here for everyone to guess.
+ Strike it out when someone guesses correctly, and put who guessed it and the movie.
+ Using Google is right out.

1. Foreplay is for *sissies*!

2. ~~Oh, my dear Bartholomew. I'm afraid that you've gone and upset me. You know what happens when someone upsets me.~~ The Great Mouse Detective, starsguard

~~3. This is the most uncomfortable coffin I've ever been in. You are wasting my time.~~ Ed Wood, theblev

~~4. Just look at the face: it's vacant, with a hint of sadness. Like a drunk who's lost a bet.~~ Shaun of the Dead, theblev

5. A: Do you send my mother your clippings? And your grades from college?
B: Please stop belittling me. The Royal Tenenbaums, geaniebeanie

6. ~~We get caught laundering money, we're not going to white-collar resort prison. No, no, no. We're going to federal POUND ME IN THE ASS prison.~~ Office Space, rainbowling

7. A: What's he like?
B: God? Lonely. But funny. He's got a great sense of humor. Take sex for example. There's nothing funnier than the ridiculous faces you people make mid-coitus. Dogma, parisian

8. Oh, and Senator, just one more thing! …Love your suit!

9. If I spoke prose, you'd all find out
I don't know what I talk about!
Ad hod, ad loc, and quid pro quo!
So little time; so much to know! Yellow Submarine, greyskyeyes

10. ~~The world changes; we do not. Therein lies the irony that finally kills us.~~ Interview with the Vampire, hobbit

11. ~~Everyone, just… pretend to be normal.~~ Little Miss Sunshine, geaniebeanie

12. A: If I didn't know you better I'd call this ingratitude.
B: I am ungrateful? You call ME ungrateful? My life has been stolen from me. I'm living in a town I have no wish to live in... I'm living a life I have no wish to live... How did this happen?

13. A: Hey, aren't you Bobbi Markowitz? I love your books. What was the name of that book, the one about your relationship with your mother?
B: "I Love You, But Please Die."

14. A: Look, you've been letting this quack experiment on you for the last month.
B: I'm not a quack! I'm a mad scientist. There is a difference.

15. A: What is your nationality?
B: I'm a drunkard.
C: That makes Rick a citizen of the world. CASABLANCA, starsguard

16. We've got a blind date with destiny... and it looks like she's ordered the lobster.

17. ~~Spying on 30 million people isn't part of my job description.~~ The Dark Knight, hobbit

18. When I'm high, I AM Odetta. …Let's get naked and SMOKE!

19. That man... is a brownie hound.

20. ~~Life's not fair, is it? You see, I... well, I shall never be king. And you... shall never see the light of another day. Adieu.~~ The Lion King, theblev but hobbit's comment posted at the same time SO.

21. Look, Kirk, no offense. I know you're the big, fancy actor here, but I've done a lot more effect-driven films than you have and I think I can spot... a prop head when I see one! It's corn syrup, guys! Corn syrup and latex. Warm... blood-flavored corn syrup. Tropic Thunder, geaniebeanie

amor_remanet @ 2009-10-23T09:49:00

2009-10-23T14:13:30Z

Whatever keeps me awake in class.

HP
Barty Crouch Jr.: 5'10"
Mitch Hewer: 5'9"
Joe Anderson: 5'11"
(So Barty is the average of my two PBs of choice. Nice.)

Xeno Lovegood: 6'3"
Owen Wilson: 5'10.5"
(I find this truly hilarious and I have NO IDEA WHY.)

Caradoc Dearborn: 6'2"
Matthew Gray Gubler: 6'1"
James Marsden: 5'10"

Theodore Nott: 5'11"
Shaun Haugh: 6'1"

Jason Dorny: 6'4"
Cillian Murphy: 5'9"

Hermione Granger: 5'6"
PB to be determined, but Emma Watson stands at 5'6" also.

Daphne Greengrass: 5'6"
Kirsten Dunst: 5'6"

ORIGINAL CHARACTERS
Emerson Arden: 5'9"
Eddie Redmayne: 5'11"

Isaiah Fitsgerald: 5'7"
Tom Schilling: ...apparently, IMDB has no idea.

Jeremy Garrett: 5'5"
Jackson Rathbone: 5'9.5" (which is about as tall as Jeremy is EVER going to get. If he wears modest heels.)

Josiah Quinn: 5'11"
Aaron Gilmore: I HAVE NO IDEA BECAUSE NO ONE ACTUALLY KNOWS WHO HE IS. He's a gorgeous goth model, though. I can say that much.

Dylan McKellar: 6'3"
RPattz: 6'1"

Davin Andrews: 6'4"
Matthew Gray Gubler: 6'1"

Mitchell Andrews: 6'1"
Hugh Laurie: 6'2.5"

Andy Beckett: 5'9"
Chris Colfer: 5'7.5"

Jason Blackwood: 6'2"
Neil Patrick Harris: 6'1"

JoAnn Kaczkowski: 5'8"
Sara Rue: 5'7"

Rory Mitchell: 6'2"
Orlando Bloom: 5'10.5" (REALLY? I thought he was a lot taller than that.)

Bobby Morrell: 5'8"
Ryan Gosling: 6'1"

Alice Ridley: 5'9"
Olivia Thirlby: 5'4"

Ashleigh Roberts: 6'1"
Jesse Spencer: 5'10.5"

OTHER
Clytemnestra: 5'5"
Shara Worden: Nooooo idea, but she's not that tall, apparently.

amor_remanet @ 2009-10-21T13:13:00

2009-10-21T17:22:48Z

It's a meme week, isn't it? Fun stuff. Today's agenda is pretty much class until 3:30, finish Doc, watch Glee, and decompress so I can work my butt off tomorrow. And a meme now.

Comment with one of my characters (past or present) and I will tell you the following:

1. What initially prompted me to like the character enough to write about him/her.
2. One of his/her best traits.
3. One of his/her worst traits.
4. How easy/difficult I find it to write the character.
5. The story/thread/chapter/post/paragraph/tag/phrase where I feel that I truly captured the character.
6. My plans (if any) to write the character in the near future.

amor_remanet @ 2009-10-20T16:52:00

2009-10-20T20:53:02Z

1. 36 songs! iTunes! Shuffle!
--- addendums: no audiobooks, memos, playcount must be greater than 1, no repeat artists
2. First line!
3. Guess! (without looking at what everyone else did)
4. No Google!
5. Top three guessers get to request an handful of icons or a drabble or something special.

1. I got that crank-trippin' baby shoe, I got the grape Kool Aid-filled swimming pool
2. My friend has problems with winter and autumn, they give him prescriptions, they shine bright lights on him
3. Right now, you are down and out and feeling really crappy
4. I [title], and no, it didn't mend my broken heart. I'll probably always have these ugly scars...
5. Hey, boy, take a look at me. Let me dirty up your mind.
6. Jackie is a punk, Judy is a runt.
7. Why do I have to fly, over every town up and down the line? I'll die in the clouds above, and you that I defend, I do not love.
8. When she was [title], the future looked bright. But she's nearly thirty now and she's out every night.
9. All day long, [title]. But instead, I went out and smashed up a phonebooth 'round the corner.
10. I am the son and the heir of a shyness that is criminally vulgar.
11. Inside the labyrinth walls, there lies a tiny child who sleeps alone.
12. Hello, darkness, my old friend. I've come to talk with you again.
13. Well you should see my story-readin' baby, you should hear the things that she says. She says, "Hun, drop dead. I'd rather go to bed with Gabriel Garcia Marquez."
14. [title], in just being human? And not being one of the elements that you can light your cigar on?
15. [Title] takes you down to her place near the river.
16. Once there was a man who had a little too much time on his hands.
17. When I was young, it seemed that life was so wonderful, a miracle, oh it was beautiful, magical.
18. Superstar, where you from, how's it going?
19. I'm an [title], on a long run, on a long run. Would I were beside her...
20. Busted flat in Baton Rouge, waitin' for a train, and I's feelin' near as faded as my jeans.
21. It all began when they took me from my home and put me on death row, a crime for which I'm totally innocent you know.
22. There's a moment you know, you're fucked. Not an inch more room to self-destruct.
23. I may not always love you, but long as there are stars above you...
24. This ain't a song for the broken-hearted. (Fair warning: this is a trick question.)
25. Mama thinks I'm living in a convent. A secluded little convent in the southern part of France!
26. You can tell from the scars on my arms, and the cracks in my hips, and the dents in my car, and the blisters on my lips that I'm not the carefullest girl...
27. [title] way up high, there's a land that I heard of once in a lullabye. (Bonus points if you guess which recording it is.)
28. Too big. Too small. Size does matter after all.
29. Sometimes I feel I've got to run away. (Bonus points for correctly guessing which version of the song it is.)
30. Your cruel device. Your blood like ice. One look could kill. My pain, your thrill.
31. [title], she'll get a hold on you, believe it. Like no other, before you know it, you'll be on your knees.
32. Oh life is bigger. It's bigger than you and you are not me.
33. Drove downtown in the rain, nine-thirty on a Tuesday night, just to check out the late night record shop.
34. When I wake up early in the morning, I'm still yawning.
35. Alone, listless, breakfast table in an otherwise empty room.
36. I know that your powers of retention are as wet as a warthog's backside. (More bonus points for guessing the correct version of the song!)

amor_remanet @ 2009-10-19T10:21:00

2009-10-19T14:24:24Z

Dear Kassie (and Caradoc as well, but mostly Kassie),

Contrary to the opinion that your present app-writing behavior shows, not every question on an app is an essay question. Some of them are meant to have simple answers.

Get with the program.

♥, Kassie.

(P.S.: Bree and Claudie, I apologize in advance.)

amor_remanet @ 2009-10-15T22:16:00

2009-10-16T03:15:45Z

This week has sucked eggs, but it's going to get better, even if I have to spend a long weekend at my parents'.

Plans for October Study Days
1. Annex parents' kitchen table for use as study space.
2. Read the Old Testament prophets (and the Book of Enoch) and making my parents wonder what on earth has possessed me to study the Bible. Read JSTOR articles I've spent the past two hours downloading? ...Maybe. The JSTOR articles, I'm allowed to procrastinate on, since I don't have conference until week after next. Yay! (This is my collection of articles. All things considered, I'm probably not done scouring JSTOR for more of them.)
3. Catch up everywhere. Really, this starts tomorrow.
4. Finally app Caradoc for 91mod. I deserve that app-writing.
5. Writing exercises for Lucy: escapes, nonsense words, something involving a list.
6. NaNo planning? NaNo planning!
7. Catch up in Aeneid reading (being woefully behind is compensated for by having translated it [badly] in high school. Apparently, I can still discuss it intelligently). Beat Glenn's 53-page article on "Shekhinah, the Virgin Mary, and the Song of Songs" to death with a stick.
8. Grandma's birthday brunch on Sunday. Orthodontist on Monday (followed by going to my literature studies mentor from high school and telling her about the research assistant jazz)! Maybe taking bb cousins to see Where The Wild Things Are?
9. Back to school on Tuesday. Maybe I will waste time in Grand Central before getting the train back to Bronxville. Maybe.

Tomorrow: Finish packing (as necessary, which, hopefully, will consist of, "Put hairbrush, toothbrush, toothpaste, and laptop into suitcase. Remember sneakers."), read for Glenn, RP!, get to airport by 4:30, more reading for Glenn (since Laguardia is Internet-less), apping? (hopefully), if I could finish the Arthur Green article today, it would be awesome but unnecessary, go to Target if at all possible.

Saturday: reread and re-note on: Moses's prophecy, Elijah & other prophets in the 1st & 2nd Kings, Jeremiah, Lamentations, Ezekiel, Isaiah, Jonah, Amos, Hosea.
* Lucy exercises: at least escapes, since it's already started. Lists, if I feel like it, since the prophets are good at those.
* apparently, we're having dinner at some new Japanese place near the house. Neato.
* a CM log involving Hestia, Barty, and Sev needs to happen sometime today?
* apping!

Sunday: Grandma's birthday brunch. Bring Virgil. Try to hide mild contempt of my closest-in-age cousins and their ridiculously poor decision making.
* Prophets: Daniel, Joel, Ruth, Obadiah, Micah, Nahum, Habakkuk, Zephaniah, Haggai, Zechariah. Really, Daniel and Ruth are the most necessary of these — Daniel because he's the apocalyptic OT prophet and is, thus, special, and Ruth… mostly because I like her. The others will probably be skimmed/read less closely, depending on what I'm getting out of them and how useful it is to my conference work.
* apping!
* Where the Wild Things Are?

Monday: Orthodontist at 9:30 AM. Be still, my beating heart. Bring Essential Papers on the Kabbalah, which, sadly, will not read itself.
* visit Roeper. See Em, Dan, & MKG, others optional. Share the fact that my personal life leaves a bit to be desired, but at least I'm making something out of the educational foundation they gave me.
* Where the Wild Things Are? — call Kelly. Discuss.
* Get Thai food to put in checked bag and take back to New York. Yum.

Tuesday: 10:30 flight to LGA. Cab to Grand Central. Dork around. Take train back to school. Cab back to campus. Enjoy not having class. Healthy balance of work and RP.

Throughout: Remember what Bill said about how having an academic challenge in Glenn's class is good for me and try not to get down on myself about it.

amor_remanet @ 2009-10-12T02:42:00

2009-10-12T07:00:37Z

Monday: Day Off. Huzzah. What to do with it:

Finish Glenn reading, with notes. Resist urge to chuck Through A Speculum That Shines out the damn window.

Tags: DEs IC/OOC log, Davin-Nick, Bobby-Riley, Ian/Andy.

Journals: Barty, Izzy.

Write a Lucy exercise.

Read more Aeneid. Resist urge to throw Robert Fitzgerald's shoddy translation out the damn window.

Catch up on thought pieces for Bill: binding of Isaac in the narrative style of the Odyssey, …something about Gilgamesh idek, and why Fitzgerald's translation of Virgil's invocation of the Muse sucks, is wildly incorrect, and completely removes the Important Thing that Virgil did that set the stages for how Dante opened Inferno and how Milton opened Paradise Lost.

Go to health services if I still sound like a sick cat.

Ponder NaNoWriMo stuff? Maybe. I can't do Cabaret this week, so I'll have more time.

Other shit to do this week: pack. Talk to Nick in the student employment office. Start working on the Milton annotating. Survive (won't be difficult, considering I only actually have class on Tuesday and Wednesday, FML; I need Bill's class to act as a buffer between me and October study days, but no. It had to go and be canceled on Friday). Resist very powerful urge to be stupid.

to do lists!

2009-10-07T16:59:48Z

Today
1:30 — 3:30: Jewish Mysticism.
3:30 — 9ish: Cabaret piece-writing, note-collecting for Odyssey essay (ha. Yeah, right.), Lucy writing.
9 — 10: Glee or Criminal Minds. As yet, I don't know. Piece-writing etc. will continue through this. On the one hand, Rossi's hometown will be involved in CM. On the other, I skipped Glee for CM last week and I think alternating might just be the easiest solution to this issue.
10 — ?: Cabaret rehearsal. Stay sentient.
? — ~2 AM: More work. RPing if I've been good. Caradoc app for 91!
Recurrent: Defend The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari to brogue. Possibly remind him that I have responsibilities beyond tagging him. Like tagging other people. And not failboating at school.

STATUS: Survived.

Tomorrow
* Get up and actually work, as opposed to "get up and stare at the Internet until it dances for my amusement."
12: Meeting with Bill & Meggles, re: research assistant stuff.
? — 3:30: Meeting with Glenn. Pretend to know things about Jeremiah, Isaiah, & Jonah. Succeed? Maybe.
4ish — 10: Work, work, work. Write Odyssey essay (DNW. Why can't we write about the Aeneid? I do not know, but I would very much prefer to write about the Aeneid. I prefer the character AND the story, AND I have some lingering degree of functional grasp on the original language, AND I read it in Latin originally to begin with, so… I'd really just like that better. But Bill says we're writing about the Odyssey. Fail.). Write things for Lucy (Samael & Lilith; revisions to "All These Old Places" would probably be easier. Both? Probably both.). Sometime in here, find downloads of Glee and Criminal Minds. Read books 1—4 of the Aeneid, try not to die a little inside at how Fitzgerald totally neuters the Aeneas/Dido sex in a cave. Can't make promises.
10 — ?: Cabaret rehearsal. Live.
?: Really, probably just sleep.
RPing: Yeah, probably not.

STATUS, 10 AM: I got out of bed. Then went to the library. Then got food. To the prophets!
STATUS, 5:33 PM: …Apparently, I'm good at this or else just good at faking it. Either way, Glenn thinks I'm pretty awesome. I've had tea and hanging out with people. Now, to impugn Odysseus's manhood.
STATUS, 1:23 AM: Odyssey paper finished! Nine pages for a four-to-five page assignment. I was planning on six. Two people have yelled at me for overachieving. …It's not like it's something that I plan on? Almost made a Lion King joke about Telemachus accepting his place in the Circle of Life. Got stared at while rocking out to Glee on my walk home from rehearsal. Feel accomplished. Today was awesome.

Friday
9:30 — 11: Epic Lecture. Do we get to the Aeneid today? God, I sure hope so.
12: Lucy conference. Hope she still likes my writing. How has it been two weeks already? I don't know.
After that: Jump gun on next week's Glenn reading, because I do not like my recent habit of procrastinating. Smack Meggles if she continues to be ridiculous. RP. Relax.
9: Cabaret line reading.
10: Cabaret rehearsal.
12 AM: It's SHOWTIME!

STATUS, 11:29 AM: Writing is horrid. Dreading conference. But I turned my nine-page beast in. Tired. Feel like might get physically ill for the first time in almost two years. Probably building this up to be more than it is.
STATUS, 1:05 PM: Lucy didn't kill me! Yay!

Saturday
Start work on story to be titled either "The Sleepwalker" or "The Somnambulist." Fervently attempt not to make it reminiscent of The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. Dread the end of next week.

The End of Next Week
My only class and, by extension, my group conference on Friday got canceled (sad-face), because Bill is going to a Milton conference in Tennessee (happy-face for him, but selfishly sad-face)… but I still have to go back to Michigan for Stupid October Study Days (sad-face), during which my mother will probably be a cantankerous whore (sad-face) and make me miserable indirectly by making my sister miserable (epic sad-face), when really Devon is miserable ENOUGH due to the trouble she's having in her freshman year at the College for Creative Studies (sad-face). I think her problems would find an antidote in going out of state, to New School, Cooper Union, RISDE, or one of the other east coast art schools… but she refuses to hear this opinion when it's presented to her. Sighs. Sometime in here, most likely after my orthodontist visit on the 19th, I will pop by my high school and start telling people there about the research assistant/Norton Critical Edition publication jazz. I sort of meant to email Dan, Emery, and Mary Kay, since they'd care the most, but at this point, I'd rather just tell them in person and, really, this is the perfect excuse to pop by and see them. I miss them.

Throughout: Try to keep lungs on the inside of my body. Liberally apply DayQuil.

This is happy-making:

this is for you, marypickford.

2009-10-02T22:08:41Z

Oasis ~ Amanda Palmer [lyrics] [download

I want to put lyrics, but, really, there aren't any specific lyrics that fit Kilgore and Mark. It's the sentiment of the song, really, and sort of the fact that it's one of Kilgore's favorites, because he is addicted to Amanda Palmer.

Tainted Love ~ Various [lyrics] [downloads: Marilyn Manson Soft Cell Gloria Jones]

Sometimes I feel I've got to run away
I've got to get away
From the pain you drive into the heart of me
The love we share
Seems to go nowhere
And I've lost my light
For I toss and turn I can't sleep at night

Once I ran to you (I ran)
Now I'll run from you
This tainted love you've given
I give you all a boy could give you
Take my tears and that's not nearly...

This? Is one of my personal ultimate Davin/Mark songs. The lyrics say it all. I could get away with just the Soft Cell one, I think, but… the Manson cover needs to be here because it's just angrier and meaner, and the Gloria Jones… mostly because of Kilgore's penchant for female vocalists and the fact that hers has more raw emotion, whereas the Soft Cell cover has some of that, but its efficacy, for me, is in that it's more of an emotional shut-down. Oh, and the lyric, "I love you, though you hurt me so / So now I'm gonna pack my things and go" …is pretty much Amsterdam in a nutshell.

Walking In My Shoes ~ Depeche Mode [lyrics] [download, my favorite remix of it ever]

Morality would frown upon
Decency look down upon
The scapegoat fate's made of me
But I promise now, my judge and jurors
My intentions couldn't have been purer
My case is easy to see

I'm not looking for a clearer conscience
Peace of mind after what I've been through
And before we talk of any repentance
Try walking in my shoes

Depeche Mode is one of my big Davin/Mark bands in general, but this song is perfect because it really could apply to either of them, for different reasons.

I Don't Like the Drugs (But the Drugs Like Me) ~ Marilyn Manson [lyrics] [download]

Norm life baby:
God is white and unforgiving
We're piss tested and we're praying.
Norm life baby:
I'm just a sample of a soul
Made to look just like a human being.

A-yep.

Coin-Operated Boy ~ The Dresden Dolls [lyrics] [download]

I'm not bothering to quote this one either. That said: Alice objects to sharing this song with Kilgore, because she hates him, but this would be about Davin's thoughts on relationships immediately following Mark.

Insatiable Love ~ Darren Hayes vs. Marilyn Manson [download]

I listened to it during their hatesex scene. Enough said.

Runs in the Family ~ Amanda Palmer [lyrics] [download

It's Kilgore's theme song. The end.

Personal Jesus ~ Depeche Mode [lyrics] [download, acoustic version, mashed up with some Fall Out Boy song I don't know

I really have nothing to say for this one. I like writing angry sex to it, apparently. I also recommend Johnny Cash's cover of it (Marilyn Manson's, not so much), albeit for different reasons. That one doesn't get to be on the Kilgore and Mark playlist.

Tanz Der Arroganz ~ And One [download]

I'm not linking to the lyrics because I don't know what they mean. Loosely, it's "Dance of Arrogance" and the vague translations I've gotten so far have basically been, "We fuck each other over, and it's so good."

Mandy Goes to Med School ~ The Dresden Dolls [download]

I'm not linking to these lyrics because, being about abortions, they're mostly irrelevant. I like this song for the sentiment and the music, less than the lyrical content.

Master and Servant ~ Depeche Mode [lyrics] [download]

Domination's the name of the game
In bed or in life
They're both just the same
Except in one you're fulfilled
At the end of the day

Strictly speaking, this is a really obvious choice, and probably second most obvious on the list after "Tainted Love", just because of the sexual dynamics between Mark and Kilgore. The lyric choice I picked… I can kind of imagine Kilgore saying that with bitter irony, because, ultimately, by the time he ditched Mark in Amsterdam, he wasn't fulfilled in bed or life. So he wanted out.

Boys Will Be Boys ~ Goldfrapp [lyrics] [download]

The HTML on this one got fucked, so it doesn't get a blurb.

Thnks fr th Mmrs ~ Fall Out Boy [lyrics] [download]

I hate Fall Out Boy.

I hate Pete Wentz.

That said, I love this song. And, moreover, the line, "He tastes like you, only sweeter" sticks out to me for Kilgore and Mark. It's Kilgore and his string of rebound boys! Or possibly Mark and whoever he slept with after Kilgore ran away.

Crystalline Green ~ Goldfrapp [download]

Again, the lyrics aren't really that important. The overall feel of the song is. ~~And maybe that my first association with it is that time in season two of House where Cameron took crystal meth and had sex with Chase.~~

I Hate Everything About You ~ Three Days Grace [lyrics] [download]

Everytime we lie awake
After every hit we take
Every feeling that I get
But I haven't missed you yet

Only when I stop to think about it
I hate everything about you
Why do I love you?

It's easier to try and tell yourself that you hate someone, instead of letting yourself feel hurt, betrayed, devalued, etc. but still deeply attached to him, isn't it, Mark and Kilgore? Really, it's a lyrically simple song, and it's a relic from eighth grade for me… but it works.

Record Year for Rainfall ~ The Decemberists [lyrics] [download

What's the use of all of this?
It's to remember you in the entire
Because I'm watching it slip away
And in the annals of the Empire
Did it look this gray?
Before the fall

A Girl In Trouble ~ Romeo Void [lyrics] [download]

There's a time when every girl learns
To use her head
Tears will be saved
'til they're better spent
There's no time for her to be afraid
So instead
She takes care of business
Keeps a cool head

This is one of my many "Kilgore leaving Mark" songs. It would be the one where Kilgore tries to tell himself that it's not worth being upset anymore, because he's getting out.

Never Say Never ~ Romeo Void [lyrics] [download]

The slump by the courthouse
With windburned skin
That man could give a fuck
About the grin on your face
As you walk by, randy as a goat
He's sleeping on papers
When he'd be warm in your coat

I might like you better
If we slept together
But there's something
In your eyes that says
Maybe that's never
Never say never

Hi, Mark.

One of Us Cannot Be Wrong ~ Leonard Cohen [lyrics] [download]

There's too much of the lyrics I could quote. They can speak for themselves.

Glittering Clouds (Locusts) ~ Imogen Heap [lyrics] [download]

Domino motion jump starts when we touch
The blackout approaching
Here it comes now, wish me luck
It's all over, it's all over, it's all over in a flash
I can't remember,
What have I done now?

Hi, Kilgore.

Tristan ~ Patrick Wolf [lyrics] [download]

I am the victim
And the murderer
You speak of love
But I’ve never heard of her

I am fucked
And I am fucking too
My name is Tristan
And I am alive

Time Is Running Out ~ Muse [lyrics] [download]

I wanted freedom;
Bound and restricted,
I tried to give you up
But I'm addicted.
Now that you know I'm trapped;
Sense of elation,
You'd never dream of
Breaking this fixation.

You will squeeze the life out of me.

Bury it, I won't let you bury it,
I won't let you smother it,
I won't let you murder it.

And our time is running out,
And our time is running out,
You can't push it underground,
You can't stop it screaming out.

How did it come to this?

I wasn't lying when I said that I had an absurd amount of "Kilgore right before or right after leaving Amsterdam" songs.

Find You're Gone ~ Wolfsheim [lyrics] [download]

This? Is one of my favorite songs, of all time, ever. That said… I first put it on here thinking of Mark finding his place suddenly sans a Davin, but really, looking at the lyrics, it moves so seamlessly from Mark's POV to Davin's that making strict delineations between the two can sometimes be difficult. It's mostly Mark's, overall, but either way, it's lovely.

Paper Bag ~ Fiona Apple [] []

And I went crazy again today, looking for a strand to climb
Looking for a little hope
Baby said he couldn't stay, wouldn't put his lips to mine,
And a fail to kiss is a fail to cope

And I said, "Honey, I don't feel so good, don't feel justified
Come on, put a little love here in my void."
He said, "It's all in your head."
And I said, "So's everything'," but he didn't get it.
I thought he was a man but he was just a little boy.

Hunger hurts, and I want him so bad, oh it kills
'Cause I know I'm a mess he don't wanna clean up
I got to fold 'cause these hands are too shaky to hold
Hunger hurts, but starving works, when it costs too much to love

There are several reasons for me putting this one on here, the least of them being that Kilgore has been enamored with Fiona Apple's music since he was a teenager. …I had more to say, then I got talking to Ann about Kilgore, Elaine, and Virginia, so I think I'll just leave this to speak for itself. …Even the hunger lines work, though, given Kilgore's problems with that.

I'm Going to Bring A Watermelon to My Girl Tonight ~ Neil Innes [download]

I brought my girl an apple, she let me hold her hand.
I brought my girl an orange, we kissed beneath the band.
I brought my girl bananas, she let me squeeze her tight.
I'm going to bring a watermelon to my girl tonight.

I brought my girl red ribbons, she hung them in her hair.
I brought my girl some sequins, she stuck them here and there.
I brought my girl good china, she hung it from the shelf.
Tonight, I'm going to bring some rope so she can hang herself.

…Pretty much.

ZIP FILE ONE | ZIP FILE TWO

I used my ipod because I keep, like, no music on my computer.

2009-10-01T20:46:15Z

How many songs total: 15,087 (my poor bb is almost full, alas)
How many hours or days of music: 47.7 days
Most recently played: "Paparazzi" ~ Lady Gaga. This was my best friend borrowing my ipod; the last song I actually listened to was "Nowhere Man" by the Beatles.
Most played: "Timekiller" ~ And One.
Most recently added: "Attics of My Life" ~ The Grateful Dead.

SONG TITLE
First song: "À Quoi Ça Sert L'amour?" ~ Edith Piaf
Last song: "2012" ~ The Gossip

TIME
Shortest song: "Where Would I Be?" ~ Cake (0:02)
Longest song: Colin Meloy's NPR concert, 1:36:28. Not including that (or other full shows, like Rufus Wainwright Live in Berlin and Eddie Izzard's Unrepeatable), "Slashcast Episode 13: Le Disko" runs 1:33:27. Not including podcasts, "Ch 33 - The Prince's Tale" from my Stephen Fry audiobook of Deathly Hallows runs for 1:02:48. Not including audiobooks and recorded lectures, Muse's "Do We Need This? (Live)" runs for 26:10. Not including songs where live stuff is involved, Pink Floyd's "Atom Heart Mother Suite" goes for 23:44. And I'm done over-complicating this now.

ALBUM
First album: Abbey Road (The Beatles)
Last album: 55578 (Wolfsheim)

First song that comes up on Shuffle: "Ghost of a Texas Ladies' Man" ~ Concrete Blonde

SEARCH
Death: 94
Life: 200 (Albums help: How to Save A Life, Life for Rent, Life in Cartoon Motion, Life Is Peachy, Life Grows Back, The Life Pursuit, Life Isn't Easy In Germany, & On How Life Is)
Love: 705 (I'm a little ashamed by that number.)
Hate: 102
You: 1,504
Sex: 53 (And one of the first ten is "I Wanna Sex You Up." Oh, bad 90s pop.)

CHARACTERS
Characters I have playlists for and # of songs:
Barty: 26
Caradoc: 33
Davin/Rafe: 17, so far. It's still building.
Davin/Mark: 19.
Spencer Reid: 319
Rory: 41 (my explanation is that, really, a lot of 90s pop songs could be misconstrued as stalking, and thus representative of how Rory gets on with his ex-girlfriend)

amor_remanet @ 2009-09-28T17:29:00

2009-09-28T21:46:10Z

The original Nightmare on Elm Street is why I originally got interested in studying film criticism. It introduced me to the wild, crazy shenanigans of Wes Craven. Despite myself and my various attempts at having intellectual street cred, I love talking about the implications of the slasher genre and analyzing the bigger players. He's definitely my favorite slasher villain of all time, ever, and in some way, I hold all/most of my violent crazies (except Barty, who does perfectly fine on his own) up to the standard of Freddy Krueger.

And the reboot actually looks promising, rather than well intentioned but mildly suspect (e.g., what Rob Zombie did with Halloween) or totally missing the point (e.g., the Friday the 13th reboot — the whole point of the first one, and the thing that made it interesting was that Mrs. Voorhees was the killer). And, really, I could do the whining fan-nerd bit about Robert Englund not reprising his role, but… seriously, there isn't any way I'm going to argue with Jackie Earle Haley. I may have only seen him in Watchmen and as a kid in Bad News Bears, but I like the idea of him as Freddy, Robert Englund apparently likes him as Freddy, and just akdkfjfhf

SO. EXCITED.

amor_remanet @ 2009-09-27T12:48:00

2009-09-27T16:55:51Z

Title: "À la recherche"
Characters: Kilgore Trout (future Davin) Andrews & his namesake, Uncle Davin Andrews.
Requested by: No one! I just felt the need to get this out.
Prompt: "quaking need"
Summary: Confessions, emotions, sadness.
Rating: PG-13ish. Nothing major; it's mostly just depressing.
For: my 100(ish) prompts.

Kilgore's sneakers squeaked loudly as he wandered out of the rain, letting the wet plastic hit the linoleum and slide. None of the first few nurses he saw were familiar, and he didn't mind. By now, he didn't need to stop and ask them where Uncle Davin's room was. Luckily, the receptionist ignored him. En route to the elevator, he walked by two doctors coming together, a nurse with a wheelchair-ridden patient (dressed in street clothes, which meant that the lucky guy got out of here today), a small throng of medical students or interns or whatever they were following diminutive Doctor Nakamura (the one who'd been in and out of Uncle Davin's room, explaining the worsening of his condition), and no one said anything. Maybe it was just that they were used to Kilgore being here, after all this time.

A soaking wet Kilgore probably fell outside of what they'd grown accustomed to, but they all did the good thing and avoided looking at or talking to him. Shuffling purposefully through the crowd, Kilgore tried to keep his eyes down and kept his hands wrapped around the strap of his messenger bag. Only when he got to the elevators and saw one closing did he lose the composure he'd picked up, tried to keep up. The noise of his sneakers squealed like tires and he nearly felt his ankle twist as he dashed to meet the closing doors. Sharing the space with him was some woman — she looked younger than Mom and Dad, but older than Virginia, and as she tucked a piece of honey-colored hair behind her ear, she gave him an inquisitive look over her wire-frame glasses.

"Get caught outside?" she asked, smiling.

"I walked here," he informed her. From memory, he pushed the button for the fifth floor. She was going to the third.

"Whoever you're seeing must be important."

Kilgore nodded, but said no more — not that it particularly mattered. Whatever she was doing here, she had the good sense to know when someone wanted their personal space. As the elevator slowed for her floor, she sent another smile his way and wished him good luck. He didn't need luck. He needed … well. Maybe he didn't know what he needed, but it definitely included his uncle not to be in the hospital, dying. Why couldn't it have been someone else's uncle who was going to die? Wrinkling his nose and trying not to grind his teeth together, Kilgore stepped out of the elevator, eyes on the linoleum, feet headed right for Room 517.

When he got there, Uncle Davin was reading Proust — in the original French, even, not that Sodome et Gomorrhe really needed to be translated for the reference to be tenable. It was even horrifyingly appropriate for what prompted him out of the house, down the blocks of Ithaca streets that made up the just-over-two miles between home and the hospital. As he lingered near the doorway, still looking at the floor, he teetered on his elongating limbs and wondered if he had enough quarters to get on the pay phone and call Sid for a ride home. He'd managed getting here, but his bones had already hurt from the growth spurt he was going through and Kilgore was sure that walking back home in the rain was pretty well impossible. After hesitating long enough, he forced himself to look up and loudly cleared his throat.

Uncle Davin looked away from his book and smiled. Kilgore liked seeing that smile — or at least, he always had. It sort of lost its luster when the IV and various other medical instruments got factored into things. "Hey, kiddo. …Did you fall in the creek getting over here?"

"Sid was busy, and Gin's with her boyfriend, and Anaïs said she didn't feel like driving with me," Kilgore explained, clenching his fingers around the strap of his bag. "So I walked. …Can I come in?"

As soon as Uncle Davin nodded, Kilgore nearly tripped over his own feet getting into the room and closed the door behind him. It wasn't that he didn't trust the doctors and nurses; he just didn't trust Dad or someone not to come and show up when Kilgore didn't need them here. Already, he felt ill, and the subject hadn't even come up yet. They'd barely talked. His heart was pounding in his chest so loudly that Uncle Davin had to hear it too, and even if that weren't the case, he was sure that he'd throw up before too long, and if he didn't do that, he'd probably make his palms start bleeding from pressing his nails into them too hard, and breathing had stopped coming to him easily, and his eyes felt hot and wet, and…

"Kilgore." Uncle Davin said his name firmly, but not harshly; unlike Mom, Uncle Davin could manage to say his name tenderly. But it wasn't that that made Kilgore look up from the floor and start breathing right again. Uncle Davin's hand was on his shoulder. "What's wrong, kiddo?"

There were a lot of possible answers to that. None of the real ones came up. "…You shouldn't be out of bed?" Kilgore reminded him timidly. How did he not hear the IV clattering when Uncle Davin moved over here? "Doctor Nakamura was going somewhere else when I ran into him on the way up, but if one of the nurses… I mean, they'd have to tell him, right? And he wouldn't like it, and—"

"Me? I'm as fine as I'm going to be while I'm on the way out." Nothing about Uncle Davin's face or tone was lying, and none of his usual wit or levity was coming through. "They're making me comfortable; that's all I can ask for. You, on the other hand? You, I'm worried about."

"You don't need to, I mean, I — it's nothing, really, I'm just being stupid—"

Uncle Davin's hand tightened on Kilgore's shoulder briefly, but not uncomfortably. "You came down here in the rain instead of waiting for someone to drive you. Whatever it is, it's important."

Even though he nodded in agreement with this assessment, Kilgore gave his uncle what he liked to think was a Very Significant And Intimidating Look. It probably wasn't anywhere close to that, but at least Uncle Davin played along. He backed up towards his bed, pulling the IV and bringing Kilgore along by the shoulder; before he sat back on the hospital mattress, he gently coaxed Kilgore down into the plastic chair that any number of nurses and visitors had used before him. Sitting was probably supposed to be comforting, but it wasn't. All the chair really made him think about was the arguments he'd had to listen to while sitting in it — Dad failing to convince Uncle Davin to take part of his liver; Mom, Dad, and Davin arguing over whether or not Kilgore really needed to watch his uncle die; Mom and Dad hissing at each other while Uncle Davin slept, trying not to wake him…

After a decent length of silence had passed between them, Uncle Davin finally broke it for Kilgore: "So… whatever it is, you want to talk about it without saying it," he commented pensively. Kilgore nodded, and he went on, "Alright. We'll piece it up together then, how's that?" Another nod. "Then let's start with the most obvious one, aside from Jadis and Maugrim, I mean: school?"

Kilgore managed a small smile at Uncle Davin's names for his parents, but it morphed into a wrinkled nose fairly quickly. "It's July," he pointed out.

Uncle Davin shrugged. "So it is, but you never know. I'm betting Sid and Anaïs are pretty flustered with starting college in September, and you're going off to high school… It'd be natural to dread it. I did. Your dad won't admit it, but he did too."

"I'm not dreading it," Kilgore told his uncle, earnest in his dispiritedness. "I just — I already know it's going to suck. I've had enough time to prepare for that, I guess."

"What makes you so sure about that?"

Looking away from his uncle, Kilgore blinked several times; anything he could do to stop tearing up was fine by him. "Well, it's not like there's any way it's going to get better," he said. Whether he was being downtrodden or matter-of-fact was something he'd lost track of. "I mean… sure, I'm going to that family legacy prep school thing now, but… it's not like it's going to be any different? I can't see how it's going to be any different, anyway. …It's just going to be a new group of people to hate me."

And he'd be living with Grandpa James and Grandma Louise, who were both pretty open about the fact that he was their least favorite among their grandchildren. And Sid was going to be off at Columbia, five hours and several train transfers away in New York City, probably making tons of friends and winning over his professors just by showing up — because, really, who in their right mind didn't love Sid? And Uncle Davin was, in all likelihood, going to be dead. And Kilgore would be alone, listening to Sarah, Fiona, Alanis, Joni, Hole, The Carpenters, and Sonic Youth, reading whatever Mom told him to read when she called, wishing that maybe someone would want to be his friend.

Feeling one of Uncle Davin's hands on his own, Kilgore looked up again. "You're going to do fine, Kilgore," he said, so sure of it that Kilgore almost believed it. "Don't go ruling the whole thing out yet. Just wait."

Kilgore wanted to believe that. He'd long outgrown his habit of taking everything that Uncle Davin told him on complete, unquestioning faith, but it was asking too much of him not to want to believe what his uncle told him. After all, what real adult figures did he have? His parents, both of whom had earned the nicknames that Uncle Davin had given them. James and Louise, neither of whom thought Kilgore was worth anything positive. Marlin and Clara, Dad and Davin's parents, who were… better than James and Lousie, but could still be difficult to reach, sometimes. Mom's brother, Alex, who was off in California or Michigan or something, who was a poet and had some friend called Jason, and who Kilgore didn't really know at all, excepting that he suffered from the same thing Kilgore did, in a manner of speaking. And Uncle Davin, who actually took the time to treat him like a person, even if he wasn't always there. …It was just too hard to believe that when there wasn't any evidence for it. Anyone who'd been his friend before had been using him, or had just moved on when it became undeniably obvious that he was an incurable nerd.

Kilgore must have gone too silent for too long, because Uncle Davin's hand squeezed his. "Come on, kiddo. What's giving that overworked brain of yours grief?"

Before he could even consider other options, Kilgore blurted, "I'm gay." To him, it sounded as though he was shouting this from the rooftops; in reality, the sound was quiet, and not much unlike choking.

And then it was out there, and there wasn't any taking it back. Uncle Davin squeezed Kilgore's hand again, and this time, Kilgore returned the gesture, practically cleaving to his uncle. While his grip fell short of any strength expectations, Kilgore still felt his arm shaking, which got his shoulder trembling right in time with it. He'd said it. He'd actually managed to say it — but now it was out there, and something bad was bound to happen, and…

"Does anybody else know yet?" Uncle Davin asked solemnly.

Eyes down, Kilgore tried to keep his tone clinical. "Some jocks at school have called me 'faggot' before, but… I don't know, I don't think they really know, they're just giving me Hell because I'm not them."

"You know that's not what I meant, Kilgore." Hearing that felt like having a gold-coated, fifty-pound lead brick dropping into his stomach. "What about the family?"

Frantically, Kilgore swallowed and shook his head. "I can't tell them—"

"What about Sid?"

"He's moving to the City, soon, and he has friends, and he'll have classes — he has other things to worry about. And I just — I can't tell him." More than even the fact that Sid would be busy, coming clean would have required admitting that Kilgore had knowingly and willfully looked his brother in the eyes and lied to him. Kilgore had pretended to be straight and interested in a girl at school; he was pretty much stuck keeping up that lie now.

Uncle Davin, thankfully, skipped asking about Ginny and Anaïs. There wasn't any reason to ask why Kilgore hadn't told them; Ginny would have run and told Mom, and Anaïs would have only given Kilgore Hell over it. "So… what do they think?"

"I don't know… probably that I'm straight and just can't get a girlfriend because no one in their right mind's ever going to be interested. Female or otherwise."

"You're thirteen, Kilgore; give it time. It feels like it, but trust me, your life's not over yet." A sigh, and then a jerk on Kilgore's hand that made him look right up and meet his uncle's eyes. While Uncle Davin had that eye contact, he added on, "Kilgore… I know that you know that I wouldn't rat you out unless you were really in trouble. So, answer this honestly: are you only telling me this because I'm dying?"

Kilgore's stomach twisted uncomfortably and, slowly but surely, the tears he'd held back started coming out. "No, it's not, I just — it isn't, I — they already think I'm broken, I — I can't give them another reason, and I just, I…"

Kilgore didn't trail off so much as cut himself off with a sob. The tears came in greater number, and echoes of the first sob started coming from him. He hardly noticed Uncle Davin shuffling around, but as soon as he felt his Uncle's arms around his shoulders, he clung to the man, buried his face in Uncle Davin's neck, and sobbed.

Gently petting Kilgore's hair, Uncle Davin told him, "It's okay, kiddo; you're not broken. I love you. Even when I'm gone, that's not going to change."

Weakly, Kilgore managed to whisper, "I'm not ready for you to go." Uncle Davin couldn't die. Kilgore needed him. Thinking about how much he needed him just made Kilgore cling to his uncle harder.

"Want to know a secret, kiddo?" Delicately, Uncle Davin kissed his temple. "I'm not ready either."

this will mostly be amusing to me, Sally, & Penny.

2009-09-26T18:52:51Z

So, Sally is watching Never Been Kissed.

In Never Been Kissed, there is a character named Armcast Henson. He is played by an actor named Derek Morgan.

This is Derek Morgan.

On the short-lived TV series "For the People," Derek Morgan played a character named Thomas Gibson.

This is why Sally and I find this whole business hilarious.

amor_remanet @ 2009-09-25T02:24:00

2009-09-25T06:25:11Z

Fwah, memeage. You give me a character, and I tell you the following!

1. Does your character believe in true love or soul mates? Love at first sight?
2. Are they or have they ever been in love?
3. What are their general feelings about sex?
4. How do they feel about sex without love?
5. What about sex before marriage?
6. What counts as cheating and is cheating forgivable?
7. Have they or would they ever cheat?
8. Are they a virgin?
9. First partner? Most recent?
10. What sort of experience do they have with sex?
11. Do they have any fetishes or fantasies?
12. How comfortable are they with their body?
13. With their partner's body?
14. Who gave them "The Talk"?
15. Do they have any special skills?
16. Post-sex habits? Weird habits? Anything else?

baa.

2009-09-18T17:55:49Z

Today's a good day.

Give me one of your characters and one of my characters. I will tell you three things my character wants to tell them and three things they never want to share.

This is for icemice, but may be useful to others?

2009-09-12T09:47:51Z

MUGGLEBORNS! HUZZAH!

OR,

HOW KASSIE LEARNED TO MAKE PUNNET SQUARES IN PHOTOSHOP
THEN SUBSEQUENTLY PUT TOO MUCH THOUGHT INTO THIS
(a morality play)

ACT ONE
Alright, so, first, I admittedly tried just doing a basic dominant/recessive inheritance for magic, but this is too simple and rather flawed:

1. Assuming that magic [here given the genotype M for dominant, m for recessive] is the recessive trait, then all magic-users would need to have the genotype mm; MM would be pure Muggle and Mm would presumably be Squibs... but they'd be the children of magic users who had children with Muggles too, which we know from canon doesn't work. One (meaning me) assumes that this is what the more reductionist members of Dumbledore's side think that the Blood Purist mindset resembles.

2. On the other hand, magic could be the dominant trait, but this poses problems of its own. If magic were the dominant trait, then genotypes MM and Mm would be magic-users, mm would be Muggles, and almost the entire world would be waving a magic stick around, shouting mangled Latin, and making things happen. Which is entirely nonsensical, since we know that Muggles are the vast majority.

I WILL NOTE that, after going through the process of doing all of this, I neglected the possibility of mutation, which JKR sort of hinted at once, in her, "I didn't really do this much in high school" (understandably, since the teaching I got in genetics had the benefit of being in the twenty-first century, after many revolutionizing discoveries, and JKR wouldn't have had said privilege) way. HOWEVER, even factoring the possibility of mutation into things, a simple dominant/recessive pattern is too simple.

So I tried a sex-linked recessive pattern, which is usually taught through the examples of hemophilia and red/green colorblindness in American biology classes. Basically: you have X chromosomes and Y chromosomes; if you have XX, you're biologically female, and if you have XY, you're biologically male; there are plenty of interesting occurrences that can happen with the genes themselves, how they end up expressed, and how a person comes to deal with and identify their gender, but for right now, all we care about is XX vs. XY. Now, on a chromosome map, the X chromosome is very large and chock-full of genetic information; it's the big, bad wolf of the sex chromosomes, if you will. Y, on the other hand, has genetic information in it, but he's smaller, contains less of it, and can very easily be pushed around by X.

Sex-linked recessive patterns arise out of things that get expressed on the X chromosome, usually noted as X_q. With females, chances of being affected by these conditions are rare. Because X is so big and butch, it is possible for a woman to have the genotype XX_q and not be affected because the X without the q on it has enough genetic information to outweigh the q and whatever it feels like doing. In order to be an affected female, you need to have both a carrier mother (i.e., XX_q) AND a father suffering from the condition, and even then, it's fifty-fifty. You COULD get screwed and end up X_qX_q, but you could also end up just being another carrier. Males aren't so lucky. Because their Y chromosome gets pushed around by X, having a carrier mother lands them with a fifty-fifty chance of being affected; if a boy ends up with X_qY as his genotype, he'll have whatever condition is being discussed.

fig. 1: Sample punnet square for sex-linked recessive
inheritance of magic, where m denotes the magic gene.

This, too, creates problems. As you can see in the punnet square, if magic were a sex-linked recessive trait, there'd be no Muggleborn girls. Ever. Which we know is BS, since Lily and Hermione are both Muggleborn.

(NB: I didn't do anything with Y-linked or X-dominant inheritance because, to be perfectly honest, I haven't been in a biology class that did doodly squat with genetics for a while [like, since 2006]. I sort of think we covered those, but we may not have, and if we did, I'm very rusty on them, so they got ruled out due to personal necessity. There are probably good reasons why they could or couldn't be a possibility, but I like the explanation I eventually wound up with. Anyway.)

On to...

ACT TWO
So I'd exhausted the very simple ideas. Next stop, I turned to the idea of doing a dyhybrid cross. Usually, these come up in textbooks in the form of a test-cross, or taking two things with genotypes like AaBb and posing the question, "What's the likelihood of getting an offspring with [some random genotype here]?" The first trait I needed was sex, not due to issues of inheritance as before, but mostly to test and make sure we weren't going to end up with a predominantly male-inhabited or predominantly female-inhabited Wizarding world, because neither really suits the image of a (mostly) gender-equal society with a (presumed fairly) even distribution of genders.

The second trait was magic, denoted with m and q rather than M/m because, given how things had gone before, I wanted to experiment with having magic be a case of mixed inheritance, or possibly a continuum of genes being expressed simply (so... less like hemophilia, more like hair color and texture). I settled with a continuum instead of mixed inheritance... honestly, because I thought it made more sense for almost no rational reason. Retrospectively, a continuum makes more sense because mixed inheritance brings up the issues of why magic can't be a simple dominant/recessive inheritance pattern from act one. Either way. Not so important to the story.

fig. 2: Sample punnet square for a test-cross illustrating
the mq idea of magical inheritance, where mm and
mq denote a magical person and qq denotes a Muggle.^*

*: This is based on a quote I can't find from JKR, where she basically said that magical genes are very hardy, difficult to get rid of, and most likely would take the dominant-ish role here.

This, too, creates problems.

It's getting closer to some semblance of reality, but we end up with far too many magical people to make sense. Granted, this is a test-cross of two magical people, but this has the problem of accounting for Muggleborns. All of them would end up needing to be accounted for by random mutation (which JKR has hinted at or outright said occurs before, though I don't have the exact quote), and while I can accept the idea that magical genes (i.e., the genes in charge of magical inheritance, not the genes of magical people) are more volatile and prone to mutation than the other ones, it would still have to be a seriously rare occurrence. I won't try to put a number on it, but considering all the examples of Muggleborns in canon, there's pretty much no way all of them can just be because of random mutations. (Unless, of course, something was in the water supply or likewise, but, even so, I have to imagine that the Creeveys, Grangers, Clearwaters, Finch-Fletchleys, et al. all live in vastly different parts of Britain, so the odds of them all drinking the same water before the conceptions of their Muggleborn kids are astronomically high.)

Anyway...

ACT THREE
...which is an appropriate heading, because I wound up figuring things out (in a way that makes sense to me) with a trihybrid cross!

Click Here for Figure 3. WARNING: BIG IMAGE.
Fig. 3: A hypothetical trihybrid test-cross between two
magical individuals, with the genotypes XXmqAa and XYmqAa.

Now, to explain what that big mess means, beyond the little notations in the squares.

XX vs. XY: Sex. We've been over it.

mm vs. mq vs. qq: The continuum of magical possibility. We've been over this too, but, writ short: m is the vaguely dominant allele in this situation, but it and q are more cooperative than a standard dominant/recessive pattern. mm means definite magical ability; mq, in most cases, will mean magical ability, but does not always; and qq means a definite absence of magical ability.

AA vs. Aa vs. aa: The genes that regulate the expression of magical ability. I honestly do not remember how I came upon this idea, but while I was sitting on my bed, staring at my punnet squares in photoshop, it came and whalloped me upside the head. THIS pattern of inheritance IS dominant/recessive. In this case, the dominant genes express magical powers, which is to say that someone with the genotypes AA or Aa, and at least one m in their magical potential genotype, would be a Witch or Wizard; the magical genotypes are, given this: mmAA, mmAa, mqAA, and mqAa.

aa, on the other hand, turns magical potential off. So, any magical potential genotype that ends up with aa tacked on the end ends up being a Squib. A person with the genotype mqaa is, then, someone with the potential to cast spells... but without the natural ability to do so. They're the Squibs who are most likely to be helped by the Quik-Spell course, because, I imagine, it taps into the fact that they do have this potential and helps them find ways to tap into it, even if only to a very limited degree.

Fun fact: There are a lot of reasons for why I went with a dominant/recessive pattern, but my favorite is the one where, if you look at patterns and trends in inbreeding (specifically, how recessive traits often end up becoming more dominant in inbred lines), it's entirely possible that Purebloods (meaning Blood Purists) are breeding their own demise by keeping everything in the family. The more you inbreed and keep a recessive trait around, the more likely you are to have it crop up and get fully expressed, so, in this case, the more likely you are to get Squibs. Mwahaha.

EXCEPTIONS TO THIS (or just colorful, interesting anomalies)
mmaa: Now, according to my above rules, the mmaa genotype should be turned off. However, as JKR said wherever she did so, the genes in charge of magic are very powerful and ornery, and so I've reasoned that having two m alleles would outweigh having two recessive a alleles. As such, people with the mmaa genotype are still perfectly capable of using magic like normal witches and wizards.

qqAA and qqAa: Good for these people. They have a theoretical possibility of expressing magic. Too bad, they have no actual ability to do so.

But, wait, Kassie, doesn't this mean there are too many Witches and Wizards in Britain?: In theory, yes. BUT, that said, this test-cross is of two magical people, so more magical offspring are to be expected. The "typical" Muggle genotype (i.e., the one I imagine Uncle Vernon would have) would be qqaa, so no potential for magic and no ability to express it, besides. The question of why a recessive gene is the most prominent one in a population is a tough one to answer, especially since, theoretically, having magic is a great survival advantage. This debate could wander off down too many different paths and, really, would deserve its own post, but here are a few possibilities: 1. squibs procreating with Muggles who had the qqaa genotype, thus creating lines of Muggles with a theoretical possibility of expressing magic, but no ability to do so; 2. persecution of magic users throughout the ages was, occasionally, more successful than the Spanish Inquisition and ideologically-related witch-burnings that got sporked at the beginning of PoA; 3. early witches and wizards tended to remove themselves from the gene pool more often than not; and 4. "I don't know, but things like this do happen in the real world, so let's accept it and move on."

AND WHAT ABOUT THAT ASTERISK ON THE CHART, EH?
IN THEORY, it is possible for Muggles to display the genotypes: mqaa, qqAA, and qqAa. Possessing the m allele and a dominant A allele would seem to be indicative of magical ancestry (and, if we acknowledge that squibs could have abandoned magical life, like Ron's random relative who works in a Muggle office, and had children with Muggles, this is very possible), but this is not necessarily true. As I've said before, the possibility of random mutation is one that JKR vaguely mentioned, but she did so without really considering what she was talking about. Which, again, is understandable.

Now, random mutations would be rare occurrences, even considering how volatile and easily mutable the genes in charge of magical inheritance likely are, but it's entirely plausible that: a. they could happen, and b. they would happen. Muggleborns do not come out of nowhere, and even if Squibs were tossing magical life aside to procreate with Muggles, the incidence of that happening is likely just as rare as, if not rarer than, random mutations. Both are possibilities, and neither is inherently more valid than the other (though, I personally, do believe more in random mutation), and both would, technically, be natural occurrences. It's also very possible for various mutations within families to pile up and still not result in a magical person. At a certain point, it would start getting to a credulity-straining low probability, but it's still possible.

The interesting conundrum that this led to, for me, involved the protective spells that get used to keep Muggles from seeing Hogwarts, the Quidditch World Cup, et al. Now, I'm pretty sure we're all clear on the basics: some folks used said spells, and they make the magical places in question look like something other than what they are. On a biological level, though, if Muggles and Squibs can potentially have the same genotypes, then they should all, theoretically, be able to see through the spells like Squibs can (or, conversely, the Squibs shouldn't be able to see Hogwarts, et al.).

So far, the only potential explanation I have goes back to the volatility and otherwise special-ness of the genes in charge of magic: in the case of a squib, he/she would be from a family with already extant magical blood, and so the genes would recognize themselves as magical and be immune to the anti-Muggle effects. In the case of Muggles, their genes would have mutated, but they wouldn't recognize themselves as magical because they couldn't actually make magic happen, ergo they would be affected by said spells. This does complicate things, if we think about the possibility of squibs and Muggles intermarrying, but it's possible that, after so long without the ability to express magic, the genes would stop identifying themselves as magical.

ACT FOUR
Examining some canon cases of Muggleborns.

Fig. 4: a possible explanation for Hermione Granger,
Petunia Dursley (nee Evans), and Lily Potter (nee Evans).

This one started out as just trying to figure out how likely it would be for Hermione to have a magical sibling, but once I got into it and filled in the boxes, I found that it could be a potential explanation for the Evans sisters as well. I've given the hypothetical parents the genotypes XXmqaa (so a mutation or history of familial mutations left the mother with the potential for magic, but no ability to do anything about it) and XYqqAa (a mutation or history of them left the father with the ability to express magic, but no magic to express). Given these mutations, it's unlikely that Hermione would have a very low chance of having a magical sibling, and she herself only had a 12.5% of existing in the first place. Same went for Lily.

Now, Petunia has the mqaa genotype in my theoretical punnet square, which I think makes sense because of the memory in DH where Lily calls her out on having harassed Dumbledore into giving her an invitation to Hogwarts. It wouldn't have meant much, because she has the genotype that I gave to Squibs who'd be most helped by Quik-Spell, but, theoretically, given her possible genotype and the fact that Lily was magical (c.f., the JKR quote I referenced before, which made a point of how magical genes are resilient and worm their way into families), there could be a slim, highly theoretical chance that she could learn to do magic, given the right mindset. She'd probably never have the right mindset, but it's possible.

I will also note, because Penny and Kira's Dursley twins at nextgen remain two of my favorite characters from that adventure (which doesn't say much, because I had a lot of favorites, but either way), that while Dudley is most certainly a Muggle, it's very possible for him to have magical kids. Even if Vernon had the qqaa genotype for certain, Dudley has a fifty-fifty chance of getting Petunia's m allele and, so, would end up with mqaa as well. Since he's a Muggle, he couldn't have a mutation to get a dominant A, but we don't know who he marries and has children with, so she could be mqaa, qqAa, or qqAA (or possibly one of the magical genotypes, but I'm assuming that he wouldn't marry a Witch), and then, from those combinations, it's possible for him to have magical kids.

Fig. 5: a possible explanation for the Creeveys.

And here, we finally get back to the question I originally set out to answer: how likely is it for Colin and Dennis Creevey to both be magical? In the case of the Creeveys, the genotypes I saddled their parents with were: XXmqaa and XYmqaa, which wound up having the same outcome for magical children as the Granger/Evans punnet square.

Now, to more accurately answer this question: barring a random mutation that made one of them (most likely in Dennis, since Colin is the first, he's already magical, and JKR's stance is that magic is rather difficult to get rid of, once it's in a family), the Creevey family has a 25% chance of having a magical child in general, a 12.5% chance of having a magical son, and about a 1.6% chance of having two magical sons. So, it's very unlikely, but still possible, and there's probably some adjustments to things to be considered, given that Colin was already magical... but I've spent a lot of time on this already, it's almost 6 AM, and I want to sleep.

random call-out joke here

2009-09-11T04:45:31Z

12:35:52 AM Penny (Antonin, Aaron, Rudi): ...damn it, Kassie, now you've got me thinking about other possible alters. ><
12:36:00 AM Kassie: :D?
12:36:12 AM Sally: Xd
12:36:21 AM Sally: Kassie's a horrible enabler, isn't she?
12:36:27 AM Kassie: Yes.
12:36:52 AM Penny (Antonin, Aaron, Rudi): because, well, in theory there could be others.
12:36:59 AM Penny (Antonin, Aaron, Rudi): ...oh, hell.
12:37:02 AM Kassie: :3
12:37:06 AM Penny (Antonin, Aaron, Rudi): *facepalms SO BAD*
12:37:09 AM Penny (Antonin, Aaron, Rudi): like, say, his mother.
12:37:46 AM Kassie: *does the Time Warp of Thinking ALL OVER PENNY'S BRAIN*
12:38:03 AM Penny (Antonin, Aaron, Rudi): because being made to kill one parent could, in theory, cause the emergence of the possible remaining parent-alter
12:38:18 AM Kassie: *jumps to the left*
12:38:23 AM Kassie: *steps to the riiiiiiight*
12:38:24 AM Penny (Antonin, Aaron, Rudi): *cries*
12:38:26 AM Penny (Antonin, Aaron, Rudi): go tag me, wench.
12:38:27 AM Sally: XD
12:38:29 AM Kassie: *puts her hand on her hips*
12:38:37 AM Kassie: *brings her knees in tight*
12:38:44 AM Kassie: I'M ALMOST DONE, PENNY, LET ME HAVE THIS.
12:38:52 AM Penny (Antonin, Aaron, Rudi): hee.
12:38:53 AM Sally: hahahahaha
12:38:55 AM Kassie: *but it's the pelvic THRUST*
12:38:56 AM Penny (Antonin, Aaron, Rudi): DO THE PELVIC THRUST.
12:39:03 AM Kassie: *that really drives her insaaaaaane*
12:39:05 AM Kassie: LET'S
12:39:06 AM Kassie: DO
12:39:06 AM Kassie: THE
12:39:07 AM Kassie: TIME
12:39:08 AM Kassie: WARP
12:39:12 AM Kassie: AGAAAAAAAAIN!
12:39:28 AM Kassie: Okay, now I'm tagging you.
12:39:33 AM Kassie: Thank you for indulging me. :D
12:39:36 AM Penny (Antonin, Aaron, Rudi): ...I love that you had to pause for a whole five seconds to not get kicked from chat for spamming :-P
12:40:05 AM Kassie: *dances the dance of taggage*
12:40:09 AM Sally: Tag Penny. XD
12:40:20 AM Penny (Antonin, Aaron, Rudi): ...also, Kassie, do me a favour and turn "extend" into "extent" in my tag? It is bothering me'
12:40:28 AM Kassie: Will do. <3

i has a bandwagon.

2009-09-07T03:38:50Z

http://kevan.org/johari?name=amor_remanet

Classes This Semester
Epic Vision and Tradition from the Odyssey to Walcott's Omeros (lecture, Wednesday and Friday)
Jewish Mysticism from Antiquity to the Present (seminar, Wednesday)
Visible & Invisible Ink: How Fiction Happens (seminar/workshop/thing, Tuesday)

I shudder to think of how obnoxiously long my book list is going to be. At least I don't have to drop $50 on a NOAB and $75 on a complete boxed set of In Search of Lost Time this year, though.

stolen from... multiple people.

2009-09-05T07:41:52Z

1. Which character of mine do you associate the most strongly with me?
2. What character types do you most associate with me?
3. What character or character type do you think I should play?

100(ish) prompts.

2009-09-01T07:02:05Z

Because oh, why the hell not?

Comment here with prompt(s), character(s) for it/them, and you get a ficlet.

Pretty much anyone I've ever played is fair game, including: PSLs, Next Gen, characters I talked about but never got around to, inactive ones, whatever. I'm easy like cheese from a spray can.

001.	Beginnings.	002.	Middles.	003.	Ends.	004.	Her eyes believed in mysteries.	005.	All sorts of complicated.
006.	Hours.	007.	Days.	008.	Weeks.	009.	Months.	010.	Years.
011.	Red.	012.	Orange.	013.	Yellow.	014.	Green.	015.	Blue.
016.	Purple.	017.	Brown.	018.	Black.	019.	White.	020.	Colourless.
021.	Leap of faith.	022.	Dragon of shadow.	023.	Lovers. "Of the Pre-Rafelites" (Davin Andrews)	024.	Family.	025.	Strangers.
026.	Quaking need. "À la recherche" (Davin Andrews)	027.	Parents.	028.	Children.	029.	Birth.	030.	Death.
031.	Sunrise.	032.	Sunset.	033.	Too Much.	034.	Not Enough.	035.	Dream the impossible.
036.	Endless darkness.	037.	Haunting melody.	038.	Flame in the twilight. "My Werewolf" (Davin Andrews)	039.	Ghost of a rose.	040.	Like shattered glass.
041.	Hollow.	042.	"Shut up!"	043.	"I feel like someone's sitting on my chest and holding me down."	044.	"Stop distracting me." "A Right Little Shakespeare" (Percy Weasley/Penelope Clearwater)	045.	"For crying out loud."
046.	Star.	047.	Heart. No More Romance, No More Small Talk (Jason Blackwood)	048.	"Smoke me a kipper, I'll be back for breakfast."	049.	The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.	050.	Glass onion.
051.	Slippery when wet.	052.	Bonfire.	053.	Earth.	054.	Air.	055.	Spirit.
056.	Breakfast.	057.	Lunch.	058.	Dinner.	059.	Several Species of Small Furry Animals Gathered Together in a Cave and Grooving With a Pict.	060.	Your songs resolve.
061.	Winter.	062.	Spring.	063.	Summer.	064.	Fall.	065.	Objects in the Mirror are Closer Than They Appear.
066.	Rain.	067.	Snow.	068.	Thunder.	069.	Storm.	070.	42.
071.	So long, and thanks for all the fish.	072.	Serpentine.	073.	"Don't you dare."	074.	"That's a bit of a disappointment."	075.	Never forget, never forgive.
076.	Who?	077.	What?	078.	Where?	079.	When?	080.	Why?
081.	How?	082.	If.	083.	And.	084.	Stillness is a lie.	085.	Caustic chemical.
086.	Plague.	087.	Maladroit.	088.	Idiosyncrasies.	089.	Fathomless waters.	090.	A fire in the rain.
091.	Birthday.	092.	Christmas.	093.	Thanksgiving.	094.	Independence.	095.	New Year.
096.	Answers.	097.	Dreams.	098.	Nightmares.	099.	"...It could happen."	100.	Aurora Borealis.
101.	Prompter's Choice.	102.	Prompter's Choice.	103.	Prompter's Choice.	104.	Prompter's Choice.	105.	Prompter's Choice.