Almost Faemous

FANMIX!

2010-06-01T04:39:23Z

This fanmix (my very first one) is a gift to runic_binary, who is excellent and wonderful. I don't think I'm very good at this, but I wanted to do it for her anyway.

I Will Follow You Into the Dark
A Lucci/George Fanmix
Download the whole thing here!

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1. Don't Fear the Reaper - Blue Oyster Cult

Come on baby...don't fear the reaper
Baby take my hand...don't fear the reaper
We'll be able to fly...don't fear the reaper
Baby I'm your man

2. Heartbreak Warfare - John Mayer

Drop his name
Push it in and twist the knife again
Watch my face
As I pretend to feel no pain

3. Her Diamonds - Rob Thomas

And she says ooh
I can't take no more
Her tears like diamonds on the floor
And her diamonds bring me down
Cuz I can't help her now
She's down in it
She tried her best and now she can't win
It's hard to see them on the ground
Her diamonds falling down

4. Limits of Our Love - Charlotte Martin

And when the world is crashing down
I'll throw it on my back for you
When you're paralyzed and bound
I'll be waging war, my love
My love, my love

5. Follow Through - Gavin DeGraw

Oh, this is the start of something good
Don't you agree?
I, haven't felt like this in so many moons
You know what I mean
And we can build through this destruction
As we are standing on our feet

6. The Way I Am - Ingrid Michaelson

If you are chilly, here take my sweater.
Your head is aching, I'll make it better.
'Cause I love the way you call me baby.
And you take me the way I am.

7. The Luckiest - Ben Folds

I don't get many things right the first time
In fact, I am told that a lot
Now I know all the wrong turns, the stumbles and falls
Brought me here

8. Fix You - Coldplay

And high up above or down below
When you're too in love to let it go
But if you never try you'll never know
Just what you're worth

9. Wherever You Will Go - The Calling

So lately, been wondering
Who will be there to take my place?
When I'm gone you'll need love
To light the shadows on your face
If a great wave shall fall and fall upon us all
Then between the sand and stone
Could you make it on your own?

10. I Will Follow You Into the Dark - Death Cab for Cutie

Love of mine some day you will die
But I'll be close behind
I'll follow you into the dark
No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white
Just our hands clasped so tight
Waiting for the hint of a spark

PROMPT REQUESTS!

2009-07-11T11:41:13Z

I haven't written fic in a very long time, but I think it's about time I got back into the saddle! And what better way than to take prompts! Leave as many as you like! I can't promise that I'll be able to get to every single one, but I'll do my best to at least do something for as many prompts as I can. Just to get the creative juices flowing.

As for fandoms! The ones I've been into the most lately have been Hetalia and Dead Like Me, as those have been the fandoms I've been RPing (lolol), but I'm willing to write for almost anything I'm familiar with! If you're not sure whether I know a fandom or not you can check out My Anime List and My Manga List! As for non-animanga fandoms...Harry Potter is always good, I mentioned Dead Like Me...and I don't know what else. Feel free to ask about those if you want. My interests are many and varied, but I don't know a lot of pretty popular fandoms.

And this is taking way too long, I'm sure I've lost your interest. Anyway, just leave a character or pairing (and their fandom(s)) and some kind of a prompt, whether it be a word, a phrase, a quote, a picture, a song, a poem, ANYTHING!

So yes! You may request/suggest as many as you like, and I'll see what I can do! :D

Thanks, friends!

Cold as Stone

2009-02-12T20:08:47Z

So, I wrote this story something like two years ago for a challenge at a writing community that I started (that died shortly afterwards), and have posted it in several places since then, but since this is my official writing place, I thought I'd repost it here. Apologies galore if you've already read this, and if not, please enjoy. But yes. It's a short story, incorporating some Greek mythology.

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Cold as Stone

She sits in the garden day after day, the red roses overflowing in waves like the sea. She is pale, and her skin is unmarred by the sun, though she spends countless hours of her empty life in the garden, attempting in vain to cover up her many sins with mountains of roses. The garden grows each year, as there are more of them to hide with each passing season. Hunched over in the dirt, she plants roses at the base of a tree where an unfortunate fawn once caught her eye. As she works, a bird’s song floats through the air, distracting her from her task and causing her to forget herself for a moment. She turns her head to search for the source of the sound, and all at once it has stopped. A happy little stone bird stares back at her from its branch in the tree.

***

Medusa couldn’t remember anything of her life before she became a Gorgon. She spent her days in icy, quiet isolation; any creature who happened to stumble upon her in her seclusion instantly became another cold reminder of her fate.

Life was a lonely ordeal. The endless monotony of her life left her feeling empty and hopelessly alone, the cold stone statues of her victims her only companions, hidden in the summers by the endless cascading saves of roses, and in winter emerging from fallen flower petals, even colder than death, crowding the gardens around her small hut and staring blankly and unseeingly. In the winters she prayed for death.

Once, long ago, she had tried to drown herself in a nearby stream, but the cruel curse that left her isolated also left her unable to die. Immortality. What good is forever if there is no warmth? She slowly felt herself freeze, and lost all hope. For years she prayed to uncaring and cruel gods for change, for anything to remind her that she was still alive and not in some frigid purgatory, but the days continued to flow into one another, each one as achingly empty as the last, and soon it had been several decades, and she still had nothing but cold, hard stone and acres upon acres of roses.

One day, during the height of summer, after spending the lonely hours of the morning bent over in the garden, urging the roses to grow over the statue of an ill-fated fox, Medusa slowly drifted towards the stream to rinse the dirt from her hands. She’s never in a rush, because there’s never anyplace to be, anything to do, anyone else to answer to. The stream was uncharacteristically smooth, and as Medusa knelt to dip her hands into the cool water, she caught a glimpse of her reflection. Cold gray eyes and hair that slithered and hissed stared back at her. She jumped back, running pale fingers through her smooth, fine hair, still, after all this time, not accustomed to the frightening illusion of the snakes. Another cruel part of her punishment for a crime she couldn’t even remember committing. The price of stealing the affections of a god.

Suddenly, there was a rustle in the tall grasses of the field beyond Medusa’s extensive gardens. Hidden by the tall reeds that lined the river, she saw a young man stalking through the grass, spear in hand. For a moment, Medusa froze. It had been ages since a human being had come anywhere near her home. He was tall and warm and dark, and she marveled at the way the muscles in his legs and shoulders shifted as he walked.

‘He’s looking for me,’ she thought sadly. From time to time, young men seeking fame or glory would search her out specifically, sure that they would be the one to slay the cruel and evil Gorgon. And she’d killed them all, each and every one of them. They were now buried under mountains of roses with strange expressions of fear and surprise permanently etched into their cold, stone faces. It would be most merciful for her to hide, and let the young man search for her in vain and escape with his life, but at the sight of him, her heart froze.

Before she even realized it, she was crawling carefully through the tall grasses, and drawing as close to him as she dared. After all, it had been so long since she’d even seen a live human being. She watched his chest rise and fall as he took a deep breath, soaked in the light in his warm amber eyes which were shifting about anxiously, never quite finding the girl hiding among the reeds.

Medusa’s hands itched with longing as she drew even nearer to the young man. She couldn’t remember what it felt like to touch another person, and yearned for human contact more than anything else in the world. The man stopped for a moment, holding his breath and shivering as Medusa drifted closer and closer, until her outstretched hand was mere inches from his muscular calf. She felt his body twisting as he turned to look at her, spear at the ready. Squeezing her eyes shut as tightly as she could, she heard the young man gasp and drop his weapon.

“But…” he said shakily, “You’re so beautiful.” Shocked, Medusa’s eyes flew open to rest upon his face, which bore an expression she had never seen before, an unfamiliar warmth and astonishment flowing freely from his bright amber eyes. And all at once, the light faded, and he was nothing more than a statue with a kind face.

Desperately, Medusa threw herself at him, praying that the stone still retained some of the young man’s warmth. She threw her arms about his neck, and frantically pressed her lips to his, but it was already too late, the curse is complete, the lips that had only moments ago spoken were cold and lifeless, and she felt something inside herself crack.

With a small sigh, she knelt on the ground, pulling a small package from the folds of her robes. Soundlessly digging a small hole at the young man’s feet, she poured in the seeds she had been saving for something worthwhile, a last small thread of hope.

“Forget-me-nots,” she whispered thickly in explanation to no one, tenderly covering the seeds with the soft earth, “I was getting tired of roses.”

And then she laughed like crying, and for the first time since she could remember, watered the earth with her tears.

Poetry

2009-01-28T21:16:28Z

I've had this little writing comm for awhile now, and I still haven't posted anything in it. Today in one of my English classes we were discussing a poem and how it related to poetry we've written ourselves, and I remembered a few of the poems I'd written for a poetry class last year. I thought I'd post two of them here, just in case anyone cared to read them.

Disclaimer: I don't consider myself a poet by any means.

Sister

We’ve sat in these wicker chairs for years,

Dribbled ice cream and melted popsicle in the crevices between the woven fibers,

Jumped up to escape from mice

Hid behind during hide-and-seek

Dragged off grumpy kittens from sharpening their claws on the wood.

Now we huddle in the dark, sitting close,

Remembering ice cream while smoke floats above our heads.

You tell me that you wish I’d never leave

And I tell you that you’re the only person I know I’ll have forever.

You make mistakes and I fix them,

Brightly colored band-aids now a hug and advice

That you trust because you know

That I know you better than anyone else

And always will,

No matter how long we’ve been apart

Because I carried you up stairs and

Read you stories before you knew the words

And even now you want me there

To put the puzzle pieces back together

Because you know that I’m the only person you’ll have forever.

We drift back into the living room and bright new green couches.

You fall asleep and I try to leave quietly

But half asleep you ask me to stay

And I do.

Soap

The bathroom is an escape from the thick, sick air of the bedroom

and I can finally breathe deeply and stare at the little soaps

lined up on the counter while I wash my hands for longer than I really need to.

They’re from all over the world,

those tiny plastic-boxed soaps you get at nice hotels.

One from Copenhagen, Hamburg, Greece, Norway,

and a small ovular tin box that looks like it was hand painted

but probably wasn’t

with the words Stratford-upon-Avon

and a slightly blobby pink flower.

He’s been all these places

and seen more things than anyone could hope to see in one lifetime

and ninety-five years should be enough, right?

He’s seen two wives die and the third is clinging to his hand

while he dreams about dancing and fishing with granddaughters who never catch fish

and reuniting with the daughter he lost

and I’m in the bathroom staring at soap

from Shakespeare’s birthplace.