bironic: Neil Perry gazing out a window at night (Default)
Finally got around to watching Proof. The poem--I'm calling it a poem--that Gwyneth Paltrow's character read from her father's workbook, taken from the original play by David Auburn, made the whole experience worthwhile:
Let X equal the quantity of all quantities of X.
Let X equal the cold. It is cold in December.
The months of cold equal November through February.
There are four months of cold and four months of heat, leaving four months of indeterminate temperature.
In February it snows.
In March the lake is a lake of ice.
In September the students come back and the bookstores are full.
Let X equal the months of full bookstores.
The number of books approaches infinity as the number of months of cold approaches four.
I will never be as cold now as I will in the future.
The future of cold is infinite.
The future of heat is the future of cold.
The bookstores are infinite and so are never full except in September.
Decided to give the movie a try today because it was on theme; last night my friend L. & I went to see The Man Who Knew Infinity, about Indian math prodigy Ramanujan and his unlikely friendship with English mathematician G.H. Hardy in the 1910s, because our former professor wrote the book it was based on and he came up for a Q&A with the writer-director and a local mathematician.

Like Proof, that movie was... perfectly serviceable. Both turn out to have been inspired by or based in part on Hardy's memoir, so that was neat. Jeremy Irons played him in Infinity: one of the strengths of the film. Dev Patel as Ramanujan was also lovely. I joked ("joked") with L. afterwards that I made my own fun during the enjoyable but formulaic--ha, math pun--story by pondering how much of the dialogue and how many of the nonverbal gestures between Hardy and Ramanujan and between Hardy and colleague Littlewood (Toby Jones) were meant to imply more than platonic intellectual relationships. There was some slashiness going on that has not been refuted by a quick perusal of magazine articles about the movie and the people being depicted in it, is all I'm saying.

Now off to friend C's for Crimson Peak and spaghetti. A much-needed screen-filled weekend to end April and Passover.
bironic: Neil Perry gazing out a window at night (RSL neil window)
Happy Passover, Passover celebrators. As I eat scrambled egg over matzoh, I encourage you to (re)watch [ profile] jetpack_monkey's vid Moves Like Yahweh for a dose of plague-filled, irreverent joy.

Happy National Poetry Month, poetry lovers. I am taking this occasion to -- incredibly belatedly -- rec a podfic (podpoem) [ profile] susan_voight recorded of my SGA sestina, An Unanticipated Side Effect of Dosing Oneself with Wraith Enzyme to Deliver an Important Message. Susan did a regular version that is quite easy to understand, as well as a super-fast version (my personal favorite of the two) that mimics the way McKay's mind was racing. I'd always wanted to hear the poem read aloud like this, and am so happy these exist in the world. Give them a listen if you're interested, and be sure to leave Susan some feedback!

State of me: Long and boring story short, I had some unexpected issues for a couple of weeks but now things seem to be back to normal, i.e. I can get things done and string two sentences together and not vibrate out of my skin with anxiety. It's April; the snow is almost all melted, and we had a thunderstorm at something like 5 o'clock this morning.

On the docket for the day:

- Matinee of Furious 7 with friends and friends-of-friends
- Do overdue beta of friend's vid
- Rip the last of the DVDs for Club Vivid vid, and lay down more clips
- Laundry
- Group watch of Into the Woods
bironic: Neil Perry gazing out a window at night (RSL neil window)
Speaking of ways to celebrate National Poetry Month, on Friday [ profile] ellen_fremedon, [ profile] recrudescence, new friend [ profile] bloodygoodgirl and I went to see The Improvised Shakespeare Company, who'd popped over from Chicago for one night/two shows. Excellent times! The all-male troupe selects a title from suggestions thrown out by the audience and then spends 60 to 75 minutes improvising a complete play in quasi-Elizabethan English, often rhyming and sometimes even in meter, without props or costumes. Plus they incorporate tropes from Shakespeare, a bonus I hadn't been expecting; our play, "Bed of Thorns," featured mistaken identity, cross-dressing, a Polonius-like lecturing father, the wooing of a lady in a garden, a murder plot, a silly party song and a misplaced turkey. Also a servant named Humble and a pair of "Frenchmen" with Spanish names and exaggerated pan-European-into-Russian accents.

They joked, they punned, they clowned, they constructed impressive couplets on the fly, they broke for anachronistic asides at appropriate moments. Some managed to play two roles in the same scene. They cracked us and occasionally one another up. (It was fun to watch the troupe members on the sides of the stage laugh when they were watching their companions perform.) They sometimes struggled to finish lines or find rhymes, and rather than feeling awkward that was often made to be funny too, especially when other troupe members jumped in or when they chose something utterly ridiculous because it was the only phrase that fit. And what began in the prologue as a binary man/woman love story ended with one guy falling for another guy posing as a woman (even after learning he was not a woman) and what looked like it was going to be a happy FMM poly marriage. Then things took a sudden turn for the tragic and everybody died. Like, everybody. (Stabbings purposeful and accidental, suicide by tryptophan allergy, and a hanging with the intestines of one of the recently dead as they'd used up all the invisible daggers and swords. All within maybe two minutes.) Except the blind seer. He survived to deliver the moral.

I'd warn for spoilers, but as the lead troupe member (who sort of looked like Joseph Morgan from The Vampire Diaries) pointed out during the intro, we were treated to the world premiere -- "assuming a linear theory of time, that is" -- and also the only performance of "Bed of Thorns" the world will ever know.

Good times had by all. Just so impressive, creative and fun. No wonder [ profile] bloodygoodgirl used to see them so often when she lived in Chicago. Recommended if they're ever in a town near you!
bironic: Neil Perry gazing out a window at night (RSL neil window)
A little reminiscence for Poetry Month, because some of my favorite fanworks that I've posted have been poems. Let's see: Spanning 2006-2011, I appear to have posted nine complete poems, one unfinished poem, one set of haiku, one "found" poem, and one poetry-inspired fic.

T.S. Eliot, Wallace Stevens and Shakespeare; sestinas, heroic couplets, haiku, a sonnet and a found poem; SGA, House and Harry Potter )

Lots of people don't like fan poetry. Probably a lot of it sucks, just like a lot of any category sucks. But I think it can be great, and I'm so happy to have found so many LJ/DW/etc. friends and community members who welcome, enjoy, read, write and critique fan poetry as well as regular fic. And I am proud to have work featured in the Fanlore article on fan poetry. Here's to more yet. ♥
bironic: Neil Perry gazing out a window at night (RSL neil window)
I haven't been reading much poetry these last few years, but some of the best I've encountered in that time are songs by Joanna Newsom. Behind the cuts are two of my favorites, including the first one I ever heard, the remarkable "Emily." Joanna's voice isn't for everyone, I know, but she's a demon on the harp, and the way she spins out stories and plays with the sounds and rhythms and textures of words—not to mention her ease with vocabulary—whew. I don't always know what it means, but I sure like listening to it.

Emily (12:10, 850 words) )

Sawdust and Diamonds (9:07, 683 words) )

Thank you, [ profile] rubberbutton and [ profile] recrudescence, for introducing me to her music.

Who are your favorite poet-songwriters these days?
bironic: Neil Perry gazing out a window at night (RSL neil window)
Am experiencing that unfortunate blogging state where you don't post for a while and then there are too many things to talk about, so you don't talk about any of them, repeat until something gives. Let us try to overcome the blockage through the magic of a "five things" format:

1. I am reading the Twilight series. No, really. )

2. I watched seasons one and two of Girls. )

3. synn and I accidentally made The Challah That Ate Pennsylvania. )

4. Went to an excellent Sigur Ros concert. )

5. Five things, five things, hm. Starships and Home showed at Muskrat Jamboree and apparently were well received, yay. Many thanks to those of you who texted or emailed or dropped comments to report on how the vidshow went. Starships'll be showing at VidUKon soon, which is also awesome. Meanwhile, someone is doing a really cool project that involves one of my vids; I got to see a draft today, and it's going to be exciting to talk about when it's out in the world.

Looking forward to the time, ever closer, when my brain decides to be productively creative again. Mayhap it will involve one of the "gift basket" mini cards at Kink Bingo. Or not, since work is busy and my mom will be visiting next week.

Either way, for now, it's National Poetry Month once again, which means it's... time to read more poetry. Reading poetry means reading slowly, means appreciating the aesthetics of language, the exquisite ways artists find of expressing the simplest, most ordinary experiences, or of articulating what had seemed to be ineffable. Means slowing down the brain. Taking time. Thinking. So different from the skimming and attention dividing that tends to dominate my days. I didn't used to be like that, when I was a teenager. (Ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny in the metaphorical sense that my personal [d]evolution from measured, thoughtful and introspective to fragmented, rushed, digital- and social network-immersed reflects our culture's shift over the past couple of decades?) Poetry Months—and Septembers, when I remember the beginnings of school years—always make me wonder whether and how you can restore yourself.
bironic: Neil Perry gazing out a window at night (Default)
One excellent weekend at Vividcon, another out on the Delmarva peninsula with my visiting mom (hadn't seen her in 13 months, whoops), and now it's back to work work work.

+ Thanks to [ profile] rubynye for the heads up—Teresa Nielsen Hayden recced Thirteen Ways of Looking at Rodney (AO3 version) alongside many other interesting-looking literary and/or crossover-type fics in a blog post over at Making Light. !! So cool. A couple of commenters also mentioned that Starships! is linked over there; I finally found it on the sidebar under the "Jim's Diffraction" links. Alexis Lothian did a whole awesome post on the vid, too. Basically: Eeeeee!

+/- I do feel like I should add a note over in the vid intro about how it wasn't intended to represent a history of spaceship media or anything, being entirely English-language and Western-centric, no anime, etc. No one has called me out on it but a few people have made celebratory remarks about how "everything" is in there and, you know, really it isn't at all. That's the major thing I'd have fixed if I'd had more time.

+ Despite lingering Vividcon-acquired germs and about 450 miles of driving, we quite enjoyed our three(ish) days out on the shore, browsing in non-chain stores in various coastal towns such as St. Michaels and Lewes, waving to the wild ponies in Chincoteague/Assateague, taking pictures of ourselves in cardboard-cutout space suits at NASA's Wallops Flight Facility visitor center, eating lots of seafood and other delicious fresh foodstuffs, playing Skeeball and dropping into ridiculous tourist shops on the Rehoboth Beach boardwalk, and even making it to the beach a couple of times between drizzles. The hotel we stayed in the second night had a glowing sink and ice bucket.

+ In one store, we found and acquired a Star Trek-themed crossword puzzle book. It's hard even for we two Trekkies and crossword aficionados (Puzzle 1, clue 1 across: "I.K.S ___-H'a, Klingon ship in 'The Chase' [TNG]"), but it's great fun nonetheless.

+/- Looked like I was going to have three weeks of evenings and weekends in which to do whatever I wanted, but then I went and acquired a volunteer job putting together a fast-turnaround newsletter. Sigh. (Those of you who knew me in grad school might remember a particular research foundation I worked with; it's for them, because I want to maintain the relationship.) So that'll be the next little while. It's cool, though. I like being "in the know" on breaking news. :)

+ Wrote 1,900 words of Mary Sue fic yesterday (the beginning of the Karin/Makor saga). *coughatwork* It's been a while.

Happy weekend to you all.
bironic: Neil Perry gazing out a window at night (Default)
I made a thing!

Title: Found Poem: I'll Always Remember / The Time the Aliens Made Us Do It
Fandom: SGA
Pairing: Nonspecific/multiple, but mostly John/Rodney, with many onlookers
Rating: R-ish
Word Count: 1,600
Summary: They’ve all grown wary—understandably so—of alien initiation rites. A meta-AMTDI story.
Contains: "Aliens made them do it" trope, and all the accompanying dubious consent issues; voyeurism/exhibitionism; bondage and blindfolds; other people's characters, plots and words (credited at the end)
A/N: An attempt at a "found poem" for my Kink Bingo voyeurism square: every line comes unedited from a preexisting story. Inspired by [ profile] linabean's brilliant SGA_storyfinders-based found poems. Thanks x10 to [ profile] synn for coming up with the idea, tracking down some fics, making me finish this and cutting the two unnecessary endings. And thank you to everyone who's written an SGA AMTDI story. This is my love song of sorts to them.

There's just the matter of the welcoming and friendship ceremony / the purification ritual / this fertility ritual / The offering ceremony / The harvest festival... )

Credits )

x-posted to mckay_sheppard, sga_noticeboard
bironic: Neil Perry gazing out a window at night (Default)
I got to hang out for most of the day in a video production studio, and felt no hesitation in asking the guys questions relevant to vidding. And work. But also vidding.

That was a great change of pace. But since the rest of my tasks had to be squeezed in afterwards, I got home almost three hours late. I'm doomed to miss fangirl Fridays forever.

Speaking of vidding, with two free weekends and Veterans Day on the horizon, my fannish goals are to work on either the SGA flashfic or the House WIP from like three years ago that has been late for as many Halloweens, or to work on the SGA vid-in-progress that has a Statement to Make. All gen.

It's been strange and wonderful and a little angsty lately as I slowly open myself up again to a wider variety of interests than I've let myself focus on the last couple of years because of work and school and new career. For example, poetry podcasts at Slate. There is Robert Pinsky -- once upon a time I could do a killer Pinsky impression -- reading an old favorite of mine, "Jubilate Agno," a poem so wonderfully weird that I'm breaking my "no cats on LJ" rule to recommend it to you now if you don't know it. I miss poetry so much.

ETA: And nobody told me that was the wrong link! Fixed now. It had linked to another neat article at Slate, about the Levi's commercials that've been using Whitman poems.

And I read Tim O'Brien's The Things They Carried, finally. Beautiful and horrific, and messes with your head with its unresolved arguments about storytelling and truth and war and writing. Is what he wrote true? What is "true"? Does it matter? Why? Just don't read before bed, alone, in the dark, like I kept doing. The ghosts feel closer that way. Or actually, maybe that's the perfect way to do it.

Starting to watch movies again, too. TV has lately been good for stuff like New York City Serenade (Sebastian!) (dir. Frank Whaley, RSL's old buddy), Ordinary People, a documentary about Bon Jovi, and an Alien marathon. Now the nearby American Film Institute is having a European film festival, and I think I'll pick up some tickets. Any recommendations from the AFI calendar? (Euro are in blue.) I am thinking some combination of Piggies, Dragon, Parnassus, John Rabe, Infer, Disco, maybe Bluebeard or Ander.

Music, only a little. There aren't many radio stations in the area. At least at this new job you can stream radio, so I've been putting the classical station on quietly in the background. (Once upon a time, I thought of comparing fanfiction to radio, where gen was classical -- people keep thinking they don't think like it, but when they start listening to it, it's hard to go back to the other stuff -- darkfic was the heavy metal/alt rock stations, fluff was easy listening, meta was NPR or talk radio, and the everyday forgettable sort of average stories were the pop stations. And of course a ton of them are love songs.)

Anyway, took a walk down memory lane this week when Richard Shindell rolled into town(ish) on his annual fall tour. Fellow folk singer Antje Duvekot opened. I hadn't heard of her, nor had I heard of last year's opener, Caroline Herring, but from now on I'm trusting his taste because I enjoyed them both and loved at least one song from each ("Sex Bandaid" from Antje, which I sadly can't find on YouTube, and "Paper Gown" by Caroline).

Richard's show was maybe my least favorite of the times I've seen him, front-loaded on the new album and heavy with the more repetitive, blander stuff. Blander to me, anyway; those songs always get requested when he takes requests. He forgot lyrics more than usual, too. Still, he's always a pleasure to listen to. He did do "Mavis," and a punchy minor-chord rendition of the usually bluegrass "Waiting for the Storm" made the whole show worth it. If he'd recorded it that way, the song would be in my top ten. I wish I could find a recording of that version.

I know I've pushed his stuff on you before, but here is some more. Or rather, here is a lot of it again. hxxp:// (change the x's)

Zip contains: )

ETA: Oh, Dee, duh, I was going to include "Fishing," one of the great extended metaphors of modern folk. Says me.

Wow, this post took much longer to write than it should have.
bironic: Neil Perry gazing out a window at night (Default)
Those of you who might be interested have probably already seen this, but yesterday I committed iambic pentameter in SGA based on a post and comments at [ profile] sheafrotherdon's. I suppose it's only fair, after doing the epic House adventure. It is called Rodneyo and Johniet: A Prologue, PG, 100 words, warning for meta and showrunner-bashing. It's at Cate's (beware "Vegas" spoilers up top) and on my website.


My sister and her friend and Ryan came to town last night and left this afternoon; Ryan had a gig and some kind of radio promotions to do. The show was nice—acoustic solo, instead of eardrum-blasting rock-out, although I do like his new(ish) backing band, and it didn't end too long after my bedtime. HI THAT'S RIGHT I AM STILL 50 YEARS OLD INSIDE.* Anyway, it was nice to see her for more than 45 minutes this time. I gave her Goodnight Bush, and she brought up my mail (thank you for the holiday cards, Caro and Catherine!) and some snacks, and, long story short, we watched the inauguration rerun.

* No negative implications intended toward people here of that age group. It is just that I have been accused before.


This is how I ate Mallomars when I was a kid:

- Knock the top of the cookie on the table to crack the chocolate coating
- Pick off pieces of the coating and eat them (this can be done with teeth and tongue or with fingers)
- Nibble around the bottom to get the rest
- Peel the (sticky, chewed-on) marshmallow off the soft cookie base
- Eat the cookie
- Chuck the marshmallow

I don't tend to eat Mallomars these days, because I don't like marshmallows. But my dad sent up a box, so I gave the old method a go. Still works.

They made me want milk, but I don't know if the remaining bit of milk in the fridge is drinkable, and I didn't want to check. It is like Shrödinger's milk: So long as I leave it in there unopened, it is neither okay nor sour.


My dad used to tease me for having eaten raisins in multiple bites when I was little. Shh—I still do that, sometimes. Grapes too. They last longer and can be better appreciated that way. They are sensual on the lips, grapes. And blueberries. Come on, how else does one discover that blueberries are green on the inside?


Haven't watched House yet. Maybe I'll go do that now. Before the rest of the House fans defriend this journal.
bironic: Neil Perry gazing out a window at night (Default)
I think it will come as a surprise to exactly no one who visited [ profile] remixredux08 that I was the sad soul behind the 300-line mock-epic House remix, OMG so much work and I loved it.

Title: A Princeton Odyssey (Alexander Pope Is Turning In His Grave Remix)
Characters: House, Wilson, Cuddy
Summary: A night on the town, in heroic couplets.
Rating: PG
Warnings: May leave you thinking in iambic pentameter. Otherwise, none.
Spoilers: None
Word Count: 2,600 (ca. 330 lines)
Original story: Three Sheets to the Wind by [ profile] joe_pike_junior
A/N: Thanks to [ profile] synn and [ profile] moonlash_cc for cheerleading as this came together bit by bit, and to [ profile] joe_pike_junior, in whose story this one lurked.

O Muse! do sing to me of 'Ventures grand,
The great and glorious Exploits in the Land
Of Princeton, where resides our Hero true:
A Man with Razor Tongue and Eyes of Blue
Who makes Fun of the Morons, heals the Sick,
Outwits Disease with Mind and Med'cine quick,
Annoys his Friends by acting like a Dick,
Delights in fig'ring out what makes Men tick,
Lives by the Credo that Ev'ryone lies,
And swells with Pride each time a Patient cries.

And because I love talking about myself and House and writing and poetry all at once, I whipped up a DVD commentary on the writing process.

Now, off to see who's who, respond to feedback, and, er, do some legitimate work.
bironic: Neil Perry gazing out a window at night (Default)
Flashfic when I should be working on Remix. Oops.

Character: Rodney McKay (Stargate: Atlantis)
Word Count: ~250
Spoilers: References events in "The Storm"/"The Eye," "Grace Under Pressure," "The Tao of Rodney" and "Doppelganger"
A/N: Based on Wallace Stevens' poem, inspired tonight by [ profile] nightdog_barks after her Wilson poem.

"Thirteen Ways of Looking at Rodney"

The city is quiet. Rodney must be keeping watch. )

ETA: Awesomeness of awesomeness, check out [ profile] jadesfire2808's Latin translation and remix!
bironic: Neil Perry gazing out a window at night (Default)
I still think this could use improvement, but here it is anyway.

Title: Sestina: John
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Characters: John/team/gen
Rating: PG
Word Count: 500
Summary: John finds a home.
Spoilers: "Rising."
Disclaimer: Neither the canon nor the fanon that inspired this are mine.
A/N: I'm glad to have this finished, finally. Big thanks to beta-readers, especially [ profile] roga and [ profile] jadesfire2808, for encouraging me not to give up a few months ago and for pointing out the clunky parts.

When John first steps through the gate into Atlantis...  )

Feedback and concrit are very welcome.
bironic: Fred reading a book,looking adorable (fred reading)
Have a poem about writing.

Personal Helicon

for Michael Longley

As a child, they could not keep me from wells
And old pumps with buckets and windlasses.
I loved the dark drop, the trapped sky, the smells
Of waterweed, fungus and dank moss.

One, in a brickyard, with a rotted board top.
I savoured the rich crash when a bucket
Plummeted down at the end of a rope.
So deep you saw no reflection in it.

A shallow one under a dry stone ditch
Fructified like any aquarium.
When you dragged out long roots from the soft mulch
A white face hovered over the bottom.

Others had echoes, gave back your own call
With a clean new music in it. And one
Was scaresome, for there, out of ferns and tall
Foxgloves, a rat slapped across my reflection.

Now, to pry into roots, to finger slime,
To stare, big-eyed Narcissus, into some spring
Is beneath all adult dignity. I rhyme
To see myself, to set the darkness echoing.

Seamus Heaney, Eleven Poems, 1965


ETA: Oh! And everyone should go read [ profile] catilinarian's gorgeous half-sestina, Holy Week. Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous.


Share a favorite of yours in comments?

Other links:

- "when faces called flowers float out of the ground" by ee cummings from [ profile] musesfool
- "A Story That Could Be True" by William Stafford from [ profile] pwcorgigirl
- "What is it to be human?" by Waldo Williams from [ profile] nightdog_barks
- Excerpt from Milton's Paradise Lost from [ profile] elynittria
- "Instructions" by Neil Gaiman from [ profile] thewlisian_afer
- "West Wall" by W.S. Merwin from [ profile] pwcorgigirl
bironic: Neil Perry gazing out a window at night (Default)
Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
My f-list is great;
I love all of you.

ETA: Yes, yes, fine, I appreciate you more than that dinky poem suggests. Here is a tritina, coerced inspired by [ profile] purridot. Pure sap, but nevertheless true (and in pentameter!):

On LJ we can squee and share our love,
bonding with strangers who become our friends
to celebrate the things that bring us joy.

In fandom and beyond, through grief and joy
alike, we've come to laugh, support and love
each other -- although far apart -- as friends.

I don't know where I'd be without you, friends.
With luck, this Valentine conveys the joy
it is to have you in my life, to love.

My love to you, dear friends, who bring me joy.

I mean it. I don't always do a good job at keeping up with everyone, but you're in my thoughts, and you make my life better with your conversation and your art and your passion and your wit and your ... everything. You really do. ♥

I wish I were getting an MRI of my chest instead of my abdomen today, because then I could show you my heart and do little dotted lines showing which pieces you've stolen. :D

I hope those of you celebrating today have a wonderful time, and that those of you who hate the holiday with an unholy passion don't have too horrible a day. For the rest, happy Thursday!
bironic: Neil Perry gazing out a window at night (Default)
So Pru was talking about how Sheppard must write totally unhelpful mission reports such as "We went to the village. There was a pony," and her examples got me thinking about him writing them up as haiku just to be difficult. Such as this one:

Bite got infected.
Briefly turned into a bug.
(I really hate bugs.)

(Oh, look, my word count for December just rose to 12.)

Anyone want to play? Any mission, from any character. Or do a patient-of-the-week case from House & co. We can play guessing games.... Come on, I need something to distract me while we're still here working when most of the rest of the country is at home....
bironic: Neil Perry gazing out a window at night (Default)
My latest effort to pull out of the "everything I touch turns to crap" mode that I've been in for the last several weeks is to try some more sestinas without worrying about how tight or original they are. It seems to be working. The one I started last night about John Sheppard has stalled halfway through, but here's another I managed to write today.

For those of you unfamiliar with the show: It's Rodney McKay during "The Hive," the second half of a two-parter in Season Two where spoilery plot summary for those who want background, even though you probably don't need it. )

I like this one because it uses the end words to return to the same thought over and over, rather than inventing an entirely new meaning or context each time. Characters on drugs help, apparently.

Concrit welcome!

ETA: x-posted to [ profile] sga_flashfic for the Wordless Challenge, here.

Title: An Unanticipated Side Effect of Dosing Oneself with Wraith Enzyme to Deliver an Important Message
Character: Rodney/team gen
Rating: PG
Word Count: 513
A/N: Many thanks to [ profile] daasgrrl, [ profile] elynittria and [ profile] synn for concrit.

...what was he saying again? )

bironic: Neil Perry gazing out a window at night (Default)
- Sestina #1: House post-infarction
- Sestina #2: "A Typical Day in Diagnostics"
- Sestina #3: "Breaking the Cycle"

Title: The Truth in Dreams
Character: Gregory House, with House/Wilson undertones
Rating: PG
Word Count: 362
Prompts: truth (from [ profile] daasgrrl), Vicodin, Wilson, dreams, leg, puzzles
Spoilers: Vague for "Meaning" and "Cane and Able"
A/N: This ended up veering far away from what I intended. I'm a little sorry I substituted "dreams" for a previous prompt; it...cheapens the rest of the words. ETA: Have been overruled on that point. Thanks, guys. *love*

Most nights, his leg allows him a few hours of solid sleep. And he dreams. )

x-posting to [ profile] housefic and [ profile] house_wilson.

Thoughts very welcome.
bironic: Neil Perry gazing out a window at night (work in progress)
This was the first sestina of all of them that I started, and it's still not finished. It was supposed to be a breathless sort of poem about the night Sirius nearly got Snape killed, bracketed by the somber reflections of current-day Lupin, but it kept getting stuck the further I went, all tangled up in itself, trying to say too much in too little space. I wrote, I wrestled, I deleted, I wrote, it got stuck again, and again, and again. I still don't like the last filled-in stanza, and to fix that, the one before it has to be tweaked. Here it sits, forlorn.

Character: Remus Lupin
Rating: PG-13 for language and mentions of violence
Summary: Remus drinks his potion and remembers.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Prompts: Tame, reject, detention, guilt, sour, waiting (from [ profile] thewlisian_afer)

In his younger days, the waiting was the worst part. )
bironic: Neil Perry gazing out a window at night (Default)
- Sestina #1: House post-infarction
- Sestina #2: "A Typical Day in Diagnostics"

Title: Breaking the Cycle
Character: James Wilson
Rating: R
Word Count: 400
Prompts: whispers (from [ profile] daasgrrl), pound (from [ profile] thewlisian_afer), part, wife, friend, lies
A/N: With thanks to [ profile] synn for looking over draft after draft and saying each was fine, even if I didn't believe her. :)

After two divorces, it's happening again. )


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