Hell is Full of Burning Boats

ophelivia @ 2009-12-08T17:58:00

2009-12-08T22:59:40Z

Title: Delusional
Author: ophelivia
Rating: PG
Word Count: 100
Characters: Cutler Beckett/?

Delusional

Cutler awakes in those pitch dark hours between midnight and the first light before dawn. He yawns, blinks hard, focusing the fuzzy darkness around his eyes, and finds that he left a candle burning; which is now practically a puddle on his desk. In the shadow of the candle there is a figure hunched over; a dark haired young girl wearing white. She has one of his quills and is writing furiously. Every now and again she will pause, look up and regard him with huge dark eyes.

The eyes, their penetrating scrutiny, are what make Cutler cry out.

Meme!

2009-10-31T01:27:40Z

1. Post a list of up to 20 books/movies/anime/TV shows/video games/bands that you've had an obsessive fannish love or interest in at some time in your life.

2. Have your f-list guess your favorite character/member from each item.

3. When someone guesses correctly, strike through the item and put the name of your favorite character next to it.

1. The Prince of Egypt (film)
2. Pirates of the Caribbean (film)
3. The Phantom of the Opera (book, musical, film)
4. Rent (musical)
5. The Wild Party by Andrew Lippa (musical)
~~6. The Wild Party by Michael John LaChuisa (musical)~~
***PLEASE NOTE--THESE ARE TWO SEPERATE PLAYS AND I HAVE A DIFFERENT FAVORITE CHARACTER FOR EACH
7. Sailor Moon (TV)
8. Repo the Genetic Opera (film)
9. Flash Forward (TV)
10. Gargoyles (TV)
~~11. Nightmare Before Christmas (film)~~
12. Edward Scissorhands (film)
13. Law and Order (TV)
14. Law and Order SVU (TV) /*no one will get this right*
15. Batman the Animated Series (TV)
16. The Vampire Chronicles (Books)
17. The Weetzie Bat Series (Books)
18. Wicked (musical)
19. Gangs of New York (film) **I'm fucking with you.**
20. Hip Hop music-*who is my favorite rapper?*

God I really hate myself sometimes

2009-07-19T07:32:07Z

The stage really really fucks with people I swear.

So we are officially two days away from the showing of "Words," the poetic play in Manhattan--we are filming on Monday with a sizeable audience of about twenty people because we actually OVERSOLD! It has been such a crazy, wonderful expirience but of course because it's me we're talking about nothing can ever be simple. How is it possible that at a time when I should be at my happiest I am breaking my heart and my brain?

One of my costars in the show is a guy I've known for over a year, and we've gotten really really thick together. He's handsome, a too-brilliant-for-words writer and just a fascinating guy. I think of him very much as a brother. This guy is a very gaurded person who I think has a lot of secrets, but puts on a very elaborate, layered front for people that can hardly be understood. A lot like me. And I think we gravitated towards each other for that reason. Instantly we sensed each other's masks and the strength we took only from ourselves. He once told me "You're the only person I know who has any true strength." A few weeks back he actually said, "I hate everyone, but I love you."

Now, because I am very sheltered and because of my disability I often feel very very strongly and get somewhat overly attatched to people when they make it clear they care for me--especially men. And so much has happened with this guy and is continuing to happen that my mind is going heywire. He has transferred out of my school and after this show I don't know when I'll see him again. The thought of this is becoming more and more disturbing to me and I don't know why. I can't stop dreaming about him, thinking of him. In the play our director has cast he and my other friend as lovers. There is an awful lot of them holding each other, grabbing each other and every time I see it I just wish it was me. But why? I am not in love with him. I set him up with my closest friend, I got them back together during a horrid, horrid breakup they had before he left school. Last weekend I let them stay at my house because they wanted to be with each other after not seeing each other for months. Oh to be a third wheel! Watching them lay in each other's arms on the floor. They are perfect for each other and I love them both like wild. Why did I hate them for being happy? Why when he said "I want to spend the rest of my life with you" did I feel my whole point of view being disrupted? It was so much easier to believe true love didnt exist. Do I want him or just anyone to love me the way he does her? Was it the weekend, or the stage that's fucking with me? Maybe it's just all the time I'm spending with him. I would never, never come between them.

I don't want him to forget me when he leaves. I've never felt like I was important to anyone as amazing as I think he is. I want to continue being there for him even after he can't see me, and to know that I can still count on him. He makes me feel safe, wanted. I don't want to lose that. And I just want him to hold me in his arms for half a minute before he goes. I don't know how to ask for any of those things.

New chapter coming

2009-06-29T05:46:38Z

Thank yeh Jesus, praise the lord!!

I just want everyone to know that there is a new chapter of Song on its way thank God. And I am in the process of uploading all my photos from Europe (what a drudge!)

My daddy flew to London today. I wanted to go with him. Sad panda.

Meme

2009-06-14T00:36:44Z

1. Your Middle Name: Caroline
2. Age: 20 as of several weeks from now
3. Single or Taken: single sigh
4. Favorite Movie: The Phantom of the Opera
5. Favorite Song or Album: Song: "Possession" by Sarah Mclachlan Album: "Everything You Want" by Vertical Horizon
6. Favorite Band/Artist: Band: 10,000 Maniacs (when they had Natalie Merchant) Artist: Shawn Colvin
7. Dirty or Clean: Clean definitely
8. Tattoos and/or Piercings: None of either
9. Do we know each other outside of LJ? No
10. What's your philosophy on life? Smile, everyone will wonder what you're up to
11. Is the bottle half-full or half-empty? I'm happy so long as the bottle doesnt get thrown
12. Would you keep a secret from me if you thought it was in my best interest? Yes
13. What is your favorite memory of us? Seeing a picture of you for the first time, then asking my parents if I could shave my head
14. What is your favorite guilty pleasure? Cartoons
15. Tell me one odd/interesting fact about you: I name inanimate objects. My wheelchair is Queenie, my laptop is Jamie and my ipod is Flaminio
16. You can have three wishes (for yourself, so forget all the 'world peace etc' malarky) - what are they? 1. Get rid of the goddamn CP 2. I want to write music 3. I want to be able to paint
17. Can we get together and make a cake? SURE!
18. Which country is your spiritual home? I haven't been to many but I'm thinking England
19. What is your big weakness? Eloquent words
20. Do you think I'm a good person? Hell to the yes
21. What was your best/favorite subject at school? English
22. Describe your accent: "Bumbidah-bumpah" = bumper to bumper traffic on Long Island
23. If you could change anything about me, would you? I would take one of your cats lol
24. What do you wear to sleep? Sweats and big t-shirts
25. Trousers or skirts? Skirts but only if there are leggings under them
26. Cigarettes or alcohol? Cigarettes, I like the scent
27. If I only had one day to live, what would we do together? (If you have no idea, just say something crazy, it'll entertain me!) I'd bring you to my great aunt's house for a seven course Italian meal where you could watch us all argue
28. Will you repost this so I can fill it out for you? Yep.

HOME!

2009-06-11T13:26:01Z

I just wanted all my beautiful ladies to know that I am back on New York soil safe and sound! There will be a massive pickspam that will probably span two posts in a couple of days but as of right now I am going to vid and vid and write and watch period films until the jet lag goes away! Toodles!

FIC! One sentence prompts

2009-05-26T23:29:37Z

Hey guys!!! Headed off to Europe the day after tomorrow so I thought I'd leave you guys with some fun. This batch was great because I got some good insight into little things I could expland into whole scenes when I start writing the novel (which was the point.) Special shouts to my homie kittymay because I will be invading her capital in less that forty eight hours!

Title: Lonely Miracle: Rose Gillete A Hundred Times
Rated: PG to R
Characters: Rose, Cutler, James, Goldie, Andrew
Warnings: Child abuse, rough play and unadulterated cute fluffiness

83. Predatory

There were three of them that night wearing red navy coats, and one had asked the little girl, “do ye wanna make some money, sweetheart?”

65. Temper

After her aunt and uncle took her to mass with them Rose overturned a vanity, smashed half the china and kept screaming even as Drew held her to keep from getting smacked.

67. Tan

Goldie’s skin is as much as her name after years in the Caribbean sun; Rose just burns.

59. Hairbrush

As she smoothes James’s hair back into a queue with her own brush she realizes she doesn’t hate him all the time.

37. Laugh

She feels the rush of air at her back as Cutler’s hand dives for her arm and misses; and laughs like a playful child, imagining she sees the blur of his smile before he comes after her.

Fic! One liners

2009-05-06T08:26:43Z

Celebrating the end of school! NO MORE FRENCH EVER! WHOOOOO!! The next chapter of Song is giving me hell so I'm taking a cue from greeneyespurple and sunsetdawn and doing 100 one-line prompts about Rose. I love summer!!!!!!

One Sentence Prompts
Characters: Rose, Andrew, Goldie, Robert Gillette, Cutler mentioned
Rated: PG to R
Warnings: Character death, implication

Together

She has her memories, the four of them together and happy, but sometimes she truly believes they’re only the desperate fantasies of a woman gone mad.

Cranky

Goldie is snappish and tired when her courses are running, and Rose realizes she herself hasn’t bled since the basement and the old woman holding the stick.

Last

Andrew dies, she doesn’t say her own name again for years.

Kiss

She stands on the barracks of Fort Charles, the salt she tastes on the breeze the tear-stained kiss of the one she’s lost.

Love

“Da!” she cries, dashing down the dusty path and leaping into Robert’s crushing embrace, feeling the scratch of his beard against her face.

Too much good news!

2009-04-08T01:13:58Z

In celebration of spring I am going to post so much amazing stuff that there needs to be an LJ cut to contain it all!! This has all happened in the last couple of weeks and a few of you may know bits and pieces about it but I wanted to finally sit down and tell everyone at once ::bounces::

A few months ago one of my friends and I went out to dinner to discuss an idea he had about staging his own poetry reading with a group of our friends. We've all met through the Writer's Club here at school and there are some incredibly talented people there. I only started going two semesters ago and most of them are much older than me (this particular friend is a grad student) but they've been really wonderful and we've become great friends. One of the things that continues to astound me is the different vocal styles each of us employ when reading our work to each other. Poetry has really become an auditory art and we have not only amazingly talented writers but really diverse readers. To that end, my friend wrote a poem last year meant to be read for five voices with me, himself and three of our friends in mind, crafting each line for one of our voices in particular. He had me read it over, and we started talking about staging a reading together off campus, it was just a matter of finding a venue and getting the money
Anyway, a few weeks ago, one of my other writer friends and I were hanging out in my room when my friend who'd written this poem comes over and says he has something to tell us. He showed us a website to buy tickets for a show in an off-off-broadway theater for a show called "Words" which was the title of the five voice poem.
"I'd love for you both to be involved," he said.
Turns out, over the last few weeks he's been collaborating with a director friend of his and "Words" has developed into much more than a reading. She liked the idea so much she bought my friend a theater and has been developing an entire show with him. He is going to play a poet struggling to craft a poem, me and my friends will be playing different aspects of the muse, showing how we war against and meld with each other as well as reading our own work inside the perameter of the plot. Let me sum up: Come the end of July there will be a show in a theatre in Manhattan that seats a hundred people and will be starring me in a role that my friend wrote for me and my work especially.

SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!

I already made sure there will be cameras so naturally all you guys will get to see it. Can you imagine what this is going to look like on a resume?? Holy shit!!

And as all this wasn't enough, in the same week I found out from a reliable source that an older guy in my poetry class may admire me. My professor, who's become my mentor, well she makes everyone in the class keep journals and once during the semester she looks at them to see what kind of things we've written down. One of the best poets we have in our class had my name written all over his in the margins. So my teacher asks him, "So ye fancy Liv, huh?" (You have to imagine the thick Irish accent.) and he got all red in the face and muttered something about me being very talented and then said "and anyway, I'm sure she has a boyfriend."
I have to admit I've never given this guy a lot of thought other than being a really exceptional writer, but he seems really nice. Now I just need to figure out the next step

Quick poll

2009-03-27T04:24:22Z

Okay, here are the choices my prof gave us for our final project in advanced poetry--should I do:

A) An acrastic poem (a poem in response to another work of art)

B) A surrealist poem

C) A poetry video

D) A poetry collage (using various images to illustrate the piece)

Natasha Richardson

2009-03-19T02:28:59Z

Stage and screen actress Natasha Richardson has passed away at the age of 45 from head injuries sustained in a skiing accident. I will miss her profound skill and beauty.

RIP

A few announcements!

2009-03-16T09:36:21Z

Hello lovelies!

I haven't posted here in a while because internet explorer has been fucking around with LJ but I got firefox so everything is chill now. I miss you guys like crazy so I wanted to check in with everyone and make a general report about important stuff that's been going on lately.

Firstly of all: Gray Girl has been published in the February issue of an online journal called "Wordgathering" that seeks to expand the genre of disability literature. Anyone who wants to have a look at it can go here: http://www.wordgathering.com/issue9/poetry/mammone.html In other news, I've been offered two peer teaching positions for the advanced poetry and advanced prose classes next semester! I also opened at a reading for one of my very, very favorite slam poets at her Woman's Herstory Month reading last week! It has been a network-fest like what this semester!

Secondly: I wanted to ask an open question to my steady readers over here: how many of you are still with me on Song? It's been a bloody dog's age since I posted I know but I think my muses will kick in if they know there is still an audience. Kate and Maria I know you guys are down for the ride ::hugs:: Pink? Kitty? Biggles? Are my big sisters still down?
The reason I ask is because I have come to the decision that Song in Red and Gray isn't content to be just a fic anymore. It's very close to its ending but Rose is not through with me. I've recently decided that I would like to revise it heavily and turn it into an original novel. However, I've also been attempting to contact Terry Rossio to discuss the prospects about publishing it with some of its Pirates elements intact. I've been seeing more and more published fanfics in bookstores and I'm wondering if this could be a legitimate path for me. Whatever I decide to do I'm really really really going to need your continuing support because the fic NEVER would have come this far without it.

Other creative detritus: A special note to june7rose : The Norribeth vid I'm making for you is about half done, I know it's taken forever but it's going to be really tight! I am going to read the excerpts from your book, I promise! I'm so excited for you

And now this is the Idea That I Need to be Talked Out Of: I've joined a club here at school where artists across all mediums meet to just do their thing. Many of my new friends are dancers and I've been watching them carefully. I've figured out that I can mimic more of their steps than I'd ever thought, I just can't do it without something to hold onto it. A few months ago the main dancer in this group was telling me about how dancers need props, whether it be a scarf, a ball or a chair. So I have decided to choreograph a dance piece using my wheelchair as a main prop, almost as a partner. I plan to have it ready by December of next semester for the school's Art of Healing showcase against domestic violence, Yes, I am completely and utterly out of my mind.

So yea, miss you guys terribly. This is about everything that's been keepin' me away lol. Just want you gals to know I love you. And as my hero once said: May the work always be good!

June's quiz!

2009-02-14T00:14:39Z

1 -- I firmly believe love is all you need. No

2 -- I have dated a man over 50. No

3 -- I have back-talked to my boss at least once. No

4 -- Life is too short. Have fun. Yes

5 -- I like the strong but silent type. Yes

6 -- Social status is pretty important to me. No

7 -- I would trade everything for love. No

8 -- I believe in fate. Yes

9 -- I'm loyal enough to follow a great leader into the depths of hell. Yes

10 -- It wouldn't matter to me if everybody thought my guy was a loser. You're just jealous, folks, he's friggin hot. Yes

11 -- Rules were made to be broken. No

12 -- Money is really important. A guy's looks, competence or age are immaterial next to the material. No

13 -- Man must have tan. I don't dig that pasty white thing. No

14 -- I can be considered a wallflower. No

15 -- If a man loves you, it's most important to you that he says it. Yes

16 -- I'm perfectly fine with being the second runner up. No

17 -- I expect that the world works a certain way and I am treated as befits my station. Yes

18 -- I am fearless. Yes

19 -- I am more than happy to be the employee. When something goes wrong, it's not my fault. Yes

20 -- I prefer a man to be established, I don't take chances on "comers." No

21 -- I prefer a romantic hero to a good provider. No

22 -- I would give my life for someone I love. Yes

23 -- To do what's best for the world is to do what's best for me. Yes

24 -- I have spent at least one night in jail. No

25 -- I would choose an honorable death over a dishonorable life. No

26 -- Did you read the last question? Come on, please...anybody would choose to keep on breathing. Yes

27 -- I never break the rules. No

28 -- I've learned something about myself I didn't know and I was able to adjust. Yes

29 -- I'm never the winner, but I will keep fighting until my last breath. No

30 -- If I can't see it, taste it, touch it and smell it, it didn't happen. No

31 -- A place for everything and everything in its place. No

32 -- Commitment isn't for me. Or, I am committed but I confess I tend to have a wandering eye. No

33 -- It's important to work for an important company and make my way up the ladder. That's the way things are done. Yes

34 -- I would date someone in a lower class than I am. Love is the most important thing. Yes

35 -- I worked hard for my success and I expect to be acknowledged for it. Yes

36 -- I feel very guilty for mistakes I've made. Yes

37 -- I never feel guilty. You can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs. No

38 -- I'd do anything for the person I love. I'd follow them anywhere. Yes

39 -- I lead. That's what I do and everything is my responsibility. Don't like it, go somewhere else. No

40 -- I have a crush on someone out of my league. Yes

41 -- I develop strong friendships with people I work with. Yes

42 -- I love my job. Yes

43 -- I believe love lasts forever. No

44 -- I'm open-minded

45 -- At least one person has called me a cynic.

Song in Red and Gray-Chapter 38

2009-01-25T01:47:30Z

Title: Song in Red & Gray-Chapter 38: Future
Author: ophelivia
Rating: R-NC17
Word Count: 18,530
Pairing: Beckett/OC, James/OC
Characters: James/Rose
Summary: "Do just what I tell you and no one will get hurt." A series of vignettes spanning both films.
Status: In-Progress
Disclaimer: I don't own the Pirates characters. Rose is mine, but I should mention that she began in an RPG over on fanfiction.net. This story has nothing to do with the plot of that game. The prompts for each chapter are from 50_smutlets.
Warnings: Power plays, S&M, emotional manipulation, prostitution and implied slash. The chapters will go in no real order. I'm picking the prompts at random.

Hey y'all! I'm back, finally. So going back to school for a new term in four days so I wanted to pretend this vacation was as productive as I wanted it to be. You know what that means: new chapter! This one took a while to get right (you'll understand why.) Please keep reading! Earlier chapters: here

2-46: Future

“What will happen if we’re caught?”

Before the Mercer scare James had been lying in her bed. The question murmured against her hair. Rose could’ve laughed but she didn’t.

“When we’re caught, James.”

She pulled away, though his hands bid her stay. His eyes large and troubled. He didn’t want this to be the truth.

“James, you know as well as I do that we can’t hide from him. That we’ve done it this long is God’s grace. It’s only because his mind’s been taken over with this pirate bullocks. He’s not thinking of us, but it’s a matter of time.”

Her voice got rough at the end of this assertion, as it always did when she said harsh things to him. It was how James knew the anger wasn’t real. He pulled her back to him. She closed her eyes, but he persisted.

“What will happen?”

She sighed, turned her head and kissed the parted, anxious mouth.

“I don’t want to talk of him,” she whispered.

If she kept kissing him he’d shut up. When they fucked, they could both forget. That’s why she kept him. It was dangerous, but it was all she had. Tonight though, James wouldn’t have it.

“What will happen?” he persisted.

“James, please…not now.”

She left the bed, sitting down at her unsteady little vanity. Her back was to him. She saw him peripherally. Rose began to viciously yank the tangles in her hair with her brush. They would not give. She threw it down with a bang.

“God damn it!” she swore, as if it were the object’s own fault, but made no move to reach down. James sat up, his confusion somewhat mingling with dread.

“Why are you acting like this?”

Because she had answered this question herself. Because Rose hated the future as much as the past. Because she didn’t want to tell him. His voice punctured her thoughts.

“Rose!”

“What?” she hissed, still not looking.

He came to her. The stool made an ugly noise as he turned it towards him. Still she would not face his gaze, like a stubborn child refusing to eat food.

“You’re scaring me,” he said sternly.

She looked at him at last. James jerked. Rose’s eyes were wide, staring, but the fear was raw. His hands dropped away. She thought she might take flight. Rose drifted to the window, looked at the past-midnight sky. Dark. Hot. Breathless.

“You want to know?” she asked in monotone. “You want to know what I’ll do, James? I’m going to save my own hide, that’s what. I’m going to say whatever I have to say to make it out alive. I’m going to leave you to yourself.”

It was how Rose said this; with her back turned to him, in a voice of measured quiet. This was not the typical fiery rage he so often earned. This was puppetry. James heard Lord Beckett from Rose’s mouth.

“You…you don’t mean that,” he murmured. Hands tightened on the windowsill. “You can’t.”

“I do.”

He felt like he was running as he crossed the room. Gently touched her shoulders. She’d never allow an embrace. James was talking very quickly.

“I understand you feel you’ve got to say these things, you know. I understand you’re afraid—”

“I’m not afraid of anything.”

She lied to herself. Her voice got softer as his got louder.

“But you know what, it’s all right! We’ll be all right, I promise you. We can find a way to protect ourselves. I can protect you!”

“I never asked that of you,” Rose whispered. And I never will.

Now he was holding onto her. Hard. His fingertips pressing very hard into her arms. She couldn’t see his face, but when he next spoke voice split. Rose shut her eyes, bit her lip, prayed. If he shed tears on her account she’d have to scream at him. She didn’t want to. Promised not to. James kept going, more and more frantic as minutes passed.

“Your, your life has been very hard,” he babbled. “You’ve been through things…things I can’t even imagine what with your…” He swallowed, “your family. You’ve always been alone.”

Rose hated this. She wanted this to stop.

“But Rose, do not shake me off now. Not after this, not after all this time and risk. I am not going to leave you.”

She found her way out of his grip, tilting his face so he would truly see her eyes. James’s throat closed, shocked at the sheer emptiness that flooded her. Voice as still as frozen water.

“Maybe not, but I’m going to leave you.”

James looked at her sadly for a time.

“We won’t talk about this anymore,” he said, stony determination in his voice. “Because you sound like him. You sound too much like him.”

Is it possible to be frightened by lack of fear? She knew he was right.

They stared at each other, and then, weakly, without strength, she fell into his arms. Rose wanted to cry. Instead she heard sounds like sobs, but there were no tears.

“It’s all right,” James whispered. “We’ll be all right.”

He led her to bed by the hand. The gentle touch made her feel wicked. The strong arms were a curse. These arms had held the sword, had steered the ship to make it sing. Where was all that strength now, Rose wondered? Why were the arms cradling her as if they needed her?

She had not been lying. She would do to him exactly what she said when the time came. She had to.

James breathed deeply at her back, and when he shut his eyes she felt dark lashes graze the back of her neck. He snuggled into her, his lips resting unconsciously on her shoulder. An endless kiss that Rose would never wriggle out of.

Betrayal was a window. A small fissure of light. It was hard, and might well get her nothing at all, but in point of fact giving James up to Cutler was the only choice she had. There was no other way to even attempt survival.

James shifted in his sleep. Across her stomach, chords of muscle in his arm rippled. A powerful man. He was afraid now, holding on to her for support; but once she pulled the brace away he might end up saving them both. Power was not the same as spirit. Power was never snuffed out. Dogs bit their masters every day.

But the dog that tastes blood gets put down.

tagged!

2009-01-15T02:33:28Z

Tagged by pink_siamese</lj>

01. What are your nicknames?

::takes deep breath:: Liv, Livia, Livvy, Oliv, O, Berries, Petite, Kitty, Lila, Styx

02. How does your hair look currently?

I can’t give a number, just past ear length

03. What's new in your life right now?

I have a lot of ideas for novels, I’m having tremendous fun making videos about OC’s

04. How many colours are you wearing now?

Hmmm…five. Gray, pink, light blue, dark blue, black

05. Are you an introvert or extrovert?

I think a little of both. I like being with people as long as I know them but only for a certain amount of time

06. What was the last book you read?

A Tale of Two Cities Charles Dickens. Right now I’m balancing Wives and Daughters by Elizabeth Gaskell and The Passion by Jeanette Winterson

08. Who is your favorite super hero?

Batman and Robin all the way baby

09. Is there anything that has made you happy these days?

Conversations with sunsetdawn20, James Barbour, the fact that Keira Knightly and Ralph Fiennes have made a film together, homemade Shirley Temples, Dr. James Wilson and Brideshead Revisited on dvd

10. What's your current obsession?

Song in Red and Gray, Tale of Two Cities the novel, films and now defunct musical, 1920’s culture

11. How long does it take you to get ready in the morning?

An hour if I have class.

12. What websites do you visit daily?

Livejournal, youtube, James Barbour’s blog

13. Do you write fic? What was the last fic you wrote?

::spits out Pepsi laughing:: Um…sheeeeyah. Currently I am chipping away at my baby Song in Red and Gray, and incubating an idea for a Dickensian fic. I’ve also been working on a Phantom of the Opera story for four years, which will either be published or burned upon completion.

14. What's the last thing you laughed about?

That last question. No seriously, the Leroy Jenkins reference on the last episode of Moonlight.

15. What's the last song that got stuck in your head?

An Ocean and a Rock by Lisa Hannigan

16. What's the last movie you saw?

The Aviator, last night.

17. Do you buy or download the movies you watch?

Both. My dvd collection is waaaaay too extensive.

Now I tag sunsetdawn20</lj> , enigma731</lj> , stillthere4me</lj> , bookworm2007</lj> , vlita316</lj> , mandy_lu</lj> , june7rose</lj>

Rest in Peace

2008-12-26T19:49:18Z

A great light has gone out, songstress, actress, beauty Eartha Kitt passed away last night. She was eighty one. I have lost one of my idols and this world one of its greatest stars.

I really need to stop auditioning for things

2008-12-04T21:31:49Z

I am not an actress. I should really just accept this and move on.

I'm going to Europe!!

2008-11-19T13:53:11Z

My grandmother has decided to give me my graduation gift two years early and take me on a trip. (According to her she "isn't going to be around" by the time I hit senior year. Pffft. The woman'll live out the next ice age.) Anyway, it took us a while to decide where to go, but we've decided to take a tour that goes through London and Paris. So come May, I get to see Versailles, Westminster Abbey, the Mona Lisa and a performance of "Wicked" in the West End. BUT...but but but here's the kicker. The tour has arranged a tea on the train to Paris hosted by none other than the granddaughter of Gaston Leroux.

God. Fucking. Loves. Me.

This is going to be freakin amazing!

NEW CHAPTER!

2008-11-10T11:41:26Z

Title: Song in Red & Gray-Chapter 37: Invisible
Author: ophelivia
Rating: R-NC17
Word Count: 1700ish
Pairing: Beckett/OC
Characters: Mercer, Rose, Cutler, James mentioned
Summary: "Do just what I tell you and no one will get hurt." A series of vignettes spanning both films.
Status: In-Progress
Disclaimer: I don't own the Pirates characters. Rose is mine, but I should mention that she began in an RPG over on fanfiction.net. This story has nothing to do with the plot of that game. The prompts for each chapter are from 50_smutlets.
Warnings: Power plays, S&M, emotional manipulation, prostitution and implied slash. The chapters will go in no real order. I'm picking the prompts at random. Here: MECKET...no like A LOT of Meckett. And a dash of Speckett too actually. LONG CHAPTER

Okay it has taken me FOREVER but with this hella hella complicated semester drawing to a close I have finally gotten around to posting a new chapter! Man it feels so good to be back. I've really been in a creative downer lately. Anyway, I'm actually really proud of this chapter because this is the one that breaks all the rules. I've written everything here that I said would never make it into this fic. I'm also really excited about how much of a response I got to my last chapter, you guys are the best! I'd especially like to thank life_of_amsu because this chapter is a long time coming and I never would've gotten the idea without her awesome fics!
Earlier chapters: here

2-39: Invisible

It was hard, almost torturous to do it this way. Walking practically at the quarry’s heels. Fighting every impulse to hide. This betrayed every instinct. This was not a hunt and this creature wasn’t worth the effort, useless off the sea. Couldn’t even watch his own back. Nevertheless it had to be. He had to track the Admiral. The Admiral would lead him to the thing. Then he’d find out what he already knew.

In the old days his instinct would have been enough. Maybe even unnecessary. But Lord Beckett’s own senses were no good now. Bewitched by the prey Mercer should have been chasing. The joints in his arm still weren’t right. This would have to do.

His tracking ground was the sordid end of the island, past buildings hunched like old men’s shoulders. Broken windows, doorframes and people inside them.

The Admiral did not belong here.

He attempted disguise, shirtsleeves and tricorn. Clearly he had been on his way to the thing when David had made himself known. Now the two were weaving designs of elaborate desperation in the district’s dirt roads. This was what David wanted. For nights he had engaged in this ridiculous dance, dogging the dog, telling him I know. Then, as the fool began to understand, he’d disappear. Only the Admiral’s imagination. David could use real guile; play on the pet’s stupidity as he led him back to the smarter of the two.

Even now the very thought of it enflamed him. David had no doubt the redheaded succubus was the one to plan it all. Reeling the Admiral in with diaphanous threads of sex and guilt. Guilt over her precious Andrew. James Norrington owed that wild creature, and she was going to get her due even if she had to drag them both down. David admired that certainly. But he knew that she would fail. He knew she would. He remembered.

∞

There had been no Lord Cutler Beckett at that time. There had been only Young Master. Fair haired, fair eyed, near invisible in thin silver skin. Just a feverish face hidden by thick curtains and satin pillows.

The servants knew better than to question what was happening to the desperate master’s only son. It was more than their jobs were worth. But Mercer had only ever felt vague disgust when he thought about the dying child, more a white ferret than a person. If the little thing couldn’t survive in the word, well that was not Mercer’s problem.

Then came that night just before the boy turned thirteen. Torrid, storm ready heat. Mercer returned to find the spindle legged youngster in the middle of his room, hands clenched and shaking behind his back. The older man raised an eyebrow.

“Master Cutler?”

“Mister Mercer.”

The boy struggled for monotone. He had a querulous voice on the edge of manhood. One day it would freeze the veins of courtier and whore alike. Then it just made David smile.

“There is a professional matter I wish to discuss.”

Mercer smiled. Stepped forward close. Shadow spreading entirely over the child’s plague-ravaged body.

“You,” the clerk whispered, “slunk past your nurses, your parents, all those in charge of you, found your way through the dark and broke into my rooms without anyone’s permission?”

Cutler gulped eyes wide and blue moon bright. Tried to draw himself up, succeeding only in tripping.

“Sir.” The boy began a speech now that was clearly long rehearsed. “You have worked in service of my father and his father before him. One day…One day you will work for me. I merely wish to…expedite the value of your services.”

David leaned down.

“And how is that?”

At first, Mercer thought the boy’s words a joke. But looking closer, he saw something else. A flame struck deep inside, like a lamp placed in an alabaster tomb.

In this young child, whom no one thought would live out the year, Mercer saw the mark of a killer.

“Don’t deny it,” demanded the quavering treble. “I know more than you think I do. I know more than everybody thinks I do.”

The silver cherub leaned close to David’s pock marked mess of a face.

“You get people who try to hurt my father. Well these people are hurting me. They’re killing me.”

He looked full up. His voice lost its shake.

“I want you to destroy them.”

∞

The shadows were a welcome embrace to an older, different David now. It had been some time since he’d come to the thing’s splintering rooms. Back when it was a game. When the slut was just another kind of victim. If your prey could give you everything how much was left to take?

∞

David wondered even now if it had been a game. The boy grew stronger each day, as if thriving on the death itself. Mercer broke the silence and told his master about the physicians, assuring the old man things had been taken care of (and getting a fine fat raise in the process.) But he couldn’t remember when the son became part of his dreams.

The boy was a born huntsman, and for the first time David felt he had found a spirit to match his own. Brought back from the brink of death the child was a predator, sinking teeth into the world, hanging ever on. The flame Mercer had seen steadily grew into an icy blaze. The burning conviction to never again be victimized. And to that end, a great, almost hateful mistrust of men. If his short life had been believed worth less than personal gain, why was any life worth more? The boy studied endlessly in business and war. Worshiped strategy. Conquest. The evaluation of strength and weakness. The never-ending human fray for power. One day he dreamed of using his father’s position to gain some of his own. But a future leader was bound to make enemies, and had to feel neither fear nor concern when dispatching them.

Mercer began to instruct Cutler in the craft of taking life.

He taught the boy how to pick the best knives, where the most prominent veins were located. He showed him the beauty of blood against a wall. The way it felt to experience the life flooding slowly from your victim.

“Take your time,” he always told him. “Savor it. Celebrate your control.”

∞

Now time at last. They hadn’t thought he’d seen them. The panicked sea horse grabbing her arm, racing through the midnight darkness. Shaking her shoulders. Whispering:

“I’ve got to see you. Something’s happened. Mercer—”

David felt a surge of pride at the way the thing paled at his name.

“Mercer what?”

Norrington gulped.

“Tomorrow. Find me tomorrow.”

Like a coward he ran. In the dark David watched it run its hands in its hair and swear against his name.

∞

Master Cutler had a difficult time of it at first. The poison in his blood would leave him forever something of the child he was then. And while he showed some prowess with a blade and a great love of shooting from the back of a horse, his physicality kept traditional methods like David’s slightly out of reach.

“I’ll never be as strong as you,” he complained sadly.

The older man took cupped one leathery finger beneath a pearlized chin.

“In the jungles of New Spain,” he said. “There is an enormous beautiful flower that gives off the scent of rotted meat in order to attract flies and reveal its animal nature. A female praying mantis will bite off her mate’s head even as his body still copulates. Every creature on earth changes and develops for survival’s sake, master. Do the same. Use what you have been given, do not fight against it.”

The boy’s eyes ignited once more, maybe brighter than ever. It was at this time he turned to another great love: the classics. He poured endlessly over the ancient philosophies, plays and legends. Here he began to find his way. He began to learn seduction. He asked David to help him set traps. In hindsight Mercer realized that this was where the diversion began.

The two watched from the underbrush, still and silent til the sun was high. The first lesson: be patient.

Suddenly a badger hobbled up amidst the leaves. Lesson two, Cutler noted, one never knows when the right victim will appear.

They’d slathered a slice of fruit in honey as bait. The woven snake of a snare invisible on the ground. Lesson three: always sweeten your offers. Lesson four: conceal your intentions until the last possible moment.

“You see?” Mercer breathed beside him. “One wrong step and…”

The rope made a fantastic hissing sound as it caught the creature’s leg and strung it high. Master Cutler’s triumphant cry melded perfectly with the first in a series of loud yelps of terror from the animal.

“Congratulations,” said Mercer. “And now for the final phase.”

The clerk unsheathed a small knife in one hand and grabbed the struggling badger with the other when suddenly the boy protested:

“Wait, you must not!”

David looked to him.

“And why not?”

“Because…You know what will happen. Then it will be…gone. Over.”

He stared bemusedly. Cutler was having a hard time forming the words, but he knew he wanted the badger to live. Just for a little while. He liked watching it, the sound it made. He stirred at the option of letting it go or stabbing it through. He didn’t want that thrill to end.

“Eventually even a trapped thing must be disposed, master.”

The boy looked at him.

“Why?” he asked.

∞

The thing was cruel in its fury. Through the keyhole Mercer saw one of the Admiral’s proud shoulders bend. A murmured apology. And the thing’s snarl in response. Mercer saw its narrow hands, speckled in cinders. Darting through the air like blades or birds. And on the inside of its wrist, pulsing veins as it gesticulated and trembled. It was unnecessary to hear the words. They argued, they doubted, they attempted to scheme; and towards morning the Admiral left. After he was gone Mercer returned to the keyhole. The thing sat on the bed with its head pressed in its knees. Then it stood, picked up a crooked brass candle and dashed it to the floor.

David had hoped they would fuck. But it was all right. Now to the difficult stage.

Tracking the thing would be much harder thanks to the…indiscretion. Thinking of it even now made David’s jaw clench. How could he have been so stupid? Caving in to desire. Under the bitch’s spell just like his boy.

Now it knew his ways, and with the Admiral’s warning she’d be looking to every shadow. David comforted himself however. The purpose in this hunt (and indeed it was that) was the same. A warning. I know. Then let the lovers suffer. What could she do? Go to the master?

It did not do that of course. It did something else.

∞

For the first time in his wretched life, David Mercer knew exactly what he wanted. As he dropped the last victim’s bloodstained handkerchief into his charge’s hand, he knew he had to take it. Caught beautifully between child and man, Master Cutler looked up at him with all the trust and gratitude of the angels in his eyes. Mercer got down on his knees.

“It will be all right now,” he said. “You’re safe.”

The boy looked away, nodded tightly. Something glittered in his eyes.

∞

Mercer was beginning to see, perhaps for the first time, the change his master had wrought over his pet. He remembered tracking at the beginning, and a few scattered times in between when he’d just wanted to look at her…He remembered her steady eyed, confident step. The way she twisted her practiced body to avoid being pushed by the crowd. How passerby called out her name and she fired back with greeting or good natured insult. The way she knew the streets, was at home in the muck. Like him.

But now…now it merely ran almost blind. It kept its eyes low and tripped over its feet. It was pushed and pummeled and seemed almost to fade away. It went straight out and straight home.

And this the thing that came so alive as he listened in the night. Who sighed and screamed and fought and submitted. It only came alive in the hands of its master.

Perhaps they were more alike now than ever.

∞

The boy did not stray from his dark guardian now, and became a better student than ever. Yet Mercer found that the more time they spent together, the more a dissonant chorus inside him rose up screaming:

Do it, do it! He must learn…Do it.

He dreamt of him at night, his little angel. So many times he entered the bedroom in stealth, merely to watch Cutler’s face turn gold beneath the light of a candle in David’s shaking fist. Then the boy would twitch or sigh in fitful dream and Mercer would bolt back to his own dark hole; on the bed, stroking himself with trembling hands that could so easily choke the breath from any man.

It was not enough.

∞

Four steps behind. Four steps between David and the nighttime desert of the pale freckled back. The ever so fragile curve of the spinal column, shoulders, limber swinging arms. In the slow motion world of David’s mission even the tendril of hair against her neck swung like a pendulum. Mercer kept his eyes glued to it.

This was going on too long, he knew. He tracked its movements ever so much longer than the Admiral. Every night promised to be the end, but David simply couldn’t. He was ensnared. Pulled toward the thing. Pulled toward her.

He only wanted a closer look.

∞

Snares had become Cutler’s weapon of choice and he’d taken to fashioning them himself. It was what he was doing on that silver, rainy afternoon as Mercer sat sharpening one of his knives. Outwardly, he was calm, ordinary. Not so inside. No.

“Master Cutler,” he began slowly. “I think we ought to have a talk you and I. Man to man.”

The boy turned. The movement was protracted. That was how Mercer knew it had begun.

“Yes, Mister Mercer?”

The older man slid his tongue over his upper lip.

“In business,” he began; trying to adopt the tone of a man far more learned than he himself was, “everything is based on favor. If you give someone something then it is implicit that they give you what you need when you ask them. That’s so, isn’t it?”

The boy nodded, only a little hesitant. It was strange, trying so hard to use words a child might have understood when what David would propose was that most adult act. But as he let his eyes wander over the mystery body, meeting the cherub’s sparkling blue gaze he knew he was ready...

“I have done what you asked of me, Master Cutler,” said Mercer. “There is something I should like in return.

He approached the boy slowly, more out of his own fear than anything else. He cautioned himself. He was not hunting. He knelt down. The boy would not take off like a startled rabbit.

“I have more I should like to teach you.” His voice became a whisper. “Much more.”

“A lesson!” Cutler was delighted. “Shall I get my tools?”

“No,” he replied softly. “You need nothing more than what you already have.”

∞

It had started to run.

David’s shoes made a bloody sound against the gravel. No time for silence now. He had forgotten somewhere in the preceding minutes why he made this stupid pursuit. He knew dimly that he wasn’t meant to catch the thing, but the sight of her pushing through the emptying midnight streets with her heart pounding sent him mad. He could hear the frantic life, smell the rage and terror on her. It was beginning again. He’d give in to temptation again if this kept up. There was no making him listen.

He couldn’t follow her when she finally ran inside her building, but David knew there to be a ladder on the outside. It was crumbling, dangerous. He liked it. Nimble as a lizard he avoided the rotted rungs. He was close. What would he do?

And he collided with its eyes.

Waiting for him outside its door. Unarmed but for glittering eyes and rigid back. The thing and the hunter regarded each other. The world remained slow for only a moment more, the tendrils of hair against her face more paralyzing to him than the snakes of Medusa.

She said nothing. Didn’t scream, didn’t even breathe. Just stared at him. Pure, hot, palpable hatred. She knew how weak he truly was. She knew he would do nothing. She knew she was human.

Bile and horror swelled up in David’s throat. It gripped his every nerve. Hurriedly, desperately averting his eyes from her, he scrambled down the ladder and fled.

∞

“Cutler? Cutler m’boy where are you?”

Man and child turned with animal speed toward the echoing voice from downstairs, then looked back at each other. Master Cutler got quietly up, and left the room. When his father embraced him at the bottom of the stairs, Cutler saw exactly the same look in the older man’s eyes as in Mercer’s. He understood in that moment how love weakened a person, what damage it could do. He began to work against it, and against any other thing that moved him to so much emotion as to impair.

The rainy day was never mentioned by either of them. Lessons with Mister Mercer grew few. Then, when Cutler was seventeen he found a new teacher. Black eyes, wise magical hands, a lulling voice accented with every single language. Beautiful. He taught Cutler many, many things; things Mercer could only have dreamt of.

That did not end well.

But when the storm had passed, who was there in the shadows four steps behind? Mercer watched the man his boy became with bursting pride. Ruthless. Efficient. A man of power not just in his family name but in his own actions. He became a far greater hunter in the end.

David knew he could do anything.

∞

The very next night, the woman was called to the house.

David had not seen her enter, but coming in from the stables found the house pervaded with the scent of her, the electrical current that struck waves in the air only when she was about. For an instant David panicked. She would tell Lord Beckett.

Then he saw the way she’d looked at him, and knew she never would. He did not go up to the bedroom. He did not listen. And then at dawn, as he sat at his post in the front hall, he saw the two of them descend the stairs together. His master’s eyes glowed faintly, and his golden hair was visible. David watched her rake it smooth with her fingers.

They passed him as if he were no more than air. At the door, Lord Beckett leaned in and left the softest of kisses on his pet-whore’s neck.

David bit down upon the flesh inside his cheek. He was so very tired.

They belonged only to each other.

Meme

2008-11-05T07:05:02Z

Taken from Kate and Pink because my muses fucking hate me.

Put on your ipod and play the first 15 songs, they will tell you the answers to questions about your future.

1. How does the world see you?

Today 4U-Rent Soundtrack (Oh yay, I'm like Angel!)

2. Will you have a happy life?

House of Cards-Mary Chapin Carpenter (Oh dear me...That doesn't sound good.)

3. What do my friends think of me?

It Must Have Happened-Mary Chapin Carpenter (So I was destined to be friends with them maybe?)

4. Do people secretly lust after me?

Train Wreck-Sarah Mclachlan (Ok considering that this, despite the weird title, is a love song I will take it as a very good omen!)

5. How can I make myself happy?

Iris-Goo Goo Dolls (I don't want the world to see me...Yea that sounds about right)

6. What should I do with my life?

Shaman's Blues-The Doors ("There will never be another one like you. There will never be another be another one who will do the things you do." As usual Jim is prophetic!)

7. Will I ever have children?

Cannonball-Damien Rice ("Stones taught me to fly, love taught me to lie, life taught me to die." I think I can take that as a no.)

8. What's some good advice for me?

Land Ho!-The Doors (erm...what Jim, you want me to keep writing Pirates fic?)

9. How will I be remembered?

The Kill-30 Seconds to Mars.("Can't break me down, bury me bury me." Loud, sad, pissed and rebellious in that. Yea I kinda like it...)

10. What's my signiture dancing song?

Tu Vas Me Detruire-Notre Dame de Paris Soundtrack. (Dude that's so sexy...)

11. What's my current theme song?

Forgiven-Alanis Morrissette (And here I thought I was over my God issues...)

12. What do others think is my current theme song?

Heart on my Sleeve-Idina Menzel (Love it.)

13. What shall they play at my funeral?

Solo Por Ti-Josh Groban (I like that idea.)

14. What type of men do I like?

Out Tonight-Rent (Um...okay...)

15. How's my love life?

Diamonds for Tears-Poets of the Fall (Ohhhhhh yea that just about sums it all up...::looks at James::)

Today was a good day

2008-11-05T06:27:56Z

I am registered for all my spring classes, (FINALLY) I got a place in the Show Choir, I voted for the first time and Obama is president of the United States.

Anyone want to hear me sing?

2008-10-31T04:33:41Z

Hi all!

Okay so this Monday on a whim I auditioned for the school's show choir because I've decided it's been way too long since I've sang anywhere. I saw the flyer on the ground the day of the auditions, practiced all day, went and got a callback (squee!) Anyway SunsetDawn asked for a recording of the song I sang and of course how could I not oblige her? The quality doth suck mightily but you get the idea.

So if anyone is interested, here's me doing a song called "Out of Sight Out of Mind" from the new musical A Tale of Two Cities, which I had seen the weekend before auditions. (Catlin: OMG WE'RE GOING SQUEE!)

http://www.sendspace.com/file/ak49ai

Interesting

2008-10-11T00:47:56Z

This is mostly for stillthere4me but I feel the need to share
http://www.popeater.com/movies/article/efron-rumored-to-take-equus-role/207816?icid=100214839x1211356446x1200650451

Would I rather see Daniel Radcliffe or Zac Effron naked....?

Hmmmm

Measure your life in love

2008-09-29T05:36:02Z

Today I went to see the filming of RENT's final New York performance. Needless to say it was incredible, but even still I find myself really flooded with mixed emotions. A great light has gone out in my heart-home New York City. The idea that I will go to a different so and not pass that theatre, the idea that thousands of fans' signitures that grace the walls and alley of the Nederlander Theatre will be covered and hidden away and a new show will move in after more than a decade (half of that time as being part of my life) is downright disturbing. This musical started a revolution in a way that nothing will for years in this stupid quantity-over-quality culture.
      I could have gone to see the show itself but decided against it just for this reason. I have been crying steadily all afternoon, desperately trying to convince myself that the millions of fans like me will not let it die the slow descent into obscurity that happens to so many popular shows. The idea of filming the show was a brilliant idea, and they've already instituted a national tour with two original cast members. I keep thinking about all of us who are going to get the rights and put it on ourselves, those of us who have been waiting forever to inhabit these characters and sing these songs for ourselves. I wonder if I'll ever be one.
     I guess it doesn't help that this was my first fandom. That without it I would never have met some of my closest friends, not to mention the person who will always be my soulmate. The stories I wrote with these people were the first time I was ever publicly praised for my writing and the characters themselves have gotten me through some really tough shit. I thought that would keep me from being so sad, the fact that I've made them mine and in that way they'll never really "leave" me. Maybe the knowledge will kick in tomorrow huh?
    That being said: Michelle, I'm thinking of jumping back in. "Ribbon" ought to be finished at some point don't you think?

Tales from the Crypt: Intro to Creative Writing

2008-09-23T23:30:35Z

Ok so we workshopped a poem of mine today, the first thing I've handed in so far for the class and the deal is that you give everybody a copy of your work then they write their comments and hand it back. Most of the class had some great concrit for me. However, this is what I got from one person:

"Bad"

"Bad"

"WTF??"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"NOO BAD BAD BAD. How many times are you going to cash this check?" (meaning how many times was i going to use a certain literary device)

And now the piece du resistance:

"You're doing no favors running the readers in circles like this. Obliqueness is not the paramount of poetic expression. Rein it in. I've seen snowglobes that were less obtuse."

Ok, ladies, you know me. I think myself a fair person who recieves concrit well. But please tell me i have the right to take offense at this.