Did you ever...fall in love with something (not someone, mind, because the loss of that is a totally different experience, one to which I will not speak), and then lose it, and then find it again? Maybe it's just me, but it's always so much less than you remember it being, a found lost loved item. And then that's what lingers with you, that strange, hollowed-out feeling. That memory of a memory.

SORRY. I really don't mean to be depressing. I just, I found a Neruda poem copied out into one of my old notebooks tonight, a poem I loved as a high school student, and I was...underwhelmed. Don't get me wrong, I still think it's heartwrenching and gorgeous, but I remember just--devouring that poem, drinking it in, reading it over and over, and now. Well, now I don't want to.

( Your Breast is Enough )

Here's the thing: despite it not striking me as it once did, the line "You gather things to you like an old road," is maybe my favorite line of all the poetry I've ever read. Yet, until this evening, I had forgotten about it. I've held onto e.e. cummings' "lady i swear by all the flowers" just because I liked the cadence, and the phrase occasionally beats itself against the back of my head in the rain. But this? This, the most accurate and lyrical description of that certain indescribable sense of loss and growing and aching with it that I've ever encountered? This I forgot, even as I was learning what it meant.

I just think it's interesting, is all. The things we lose along the way. In all honesty, this poem makes more sense to me today than it did to the awkward overworked academic headcase I was at 16--not that I'm any less any of those things now, I just manage it all in a slightly less frenetic way. Is that why it's not as potent? Is it merely the element of mystery that's vanished? How sad, if that's the case.

God, and now I'm committing the exact kind of nostalgia this piece warns against, which is, I suppose, fitting. I don't know--have you guys ever come back to a memory to find it diminished since you left it?

Title Five Times Sirius Walked in On James and Lily (And One Time it Was Remus)
Rating Somewhere between R and NC-17, I think.
Summary I think you guys can figure it out :D

( 'Padfoot,' James said, and winced. 'Uh, would you possibly believe this isn't what it looks like?' )

Hey, uh, woldy? Remember how, last year, I got you for rs_small_gifts, and you gave me that awesome Adrienne Rich poem about silence as a prompt? And remember how I wrote you this, and you said you liked it, and that pleased me?

Well, uh, the thing is...that's actually the second response I wrote to that prompt. The first one was porn.

This is that porn.

Title: Let Us Be Silent, That We May Hear the Whispers of the Gods
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Remus Lupin doesn't want to hear it--not tomorrow and not yesterday, but certainly not right now.
Author's Note: So, yes, a belated gift for woldy. Also, the title is a quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson. I don't own it or him, I don't own these characters, and I don't claim to. I mean, shit, I barely own dinner for tonight. Crossposted some places.

( Remus doesn’t want to think about it, but it’s been awhile. )

Title: Left and Leaving
Characters: Sirius, Regulus
Rating: In terms of theme? G, probably. PG/PG-13 for language, I guess.
Wordcount: 1800, give or take.
Summary: Sirius spends the summer before Regulus’ sixth year outlining his brilliant plan for escape, which basically entails walking out one day and never, ever coming back.

( The summer before Regulus's sixth year drags on and on... )

Juuuust a fun little aside. A response to this, which purple_chalk can yell at me for linking to if she feels like it.

( Five Times Draco Malfoy Was Told He Looked Like Hell )

If it's still 2010 tomorrow, I suppose I will be forced to accept it.

Until then, I will continue to ponder upon the last decade, and wonder how, exactly, I got from there to here. I never really thought I would, morbid though that sounds.

Happy New Year/Decade/Era/Etc, folks.

I'd just like to put it out there that purple_chalk made me do this, and I blame her.

Title: Five Times Draco Malfoy Was Pushed Into a Pool
Rating: PG-13

( 'Malfoy, Potter said, 'you're looking a little washed out.' )

Title: Five Times Anthony Goldstein REALLY HATED Being the Only Jew at Hogwarts
Rating: PG
A/N: I myself am Jewish; I've always wondered about this.

( Put on your yamaka... )

Title: Five Things Draco Wishes He'd Never Told Astoria
Rating: PG? PG-13?

( That he cried in a bathroom that one time. )

Title: Five Times Scorpius Malfoy Seriously Underestimated His Parents (And One Time Albus Potter Did it For Him)
Rating: PG-13

( The 'unbreakable' locking charm... )

Oh, crap. I meant to post this when I posted the other thing. I wrote it last year as part of rs_small_gifts, based on woldy's awesome, awesome prompt. And I meant to post it last year and forgot about it until I went looking for it on my journal yesterday and lo! could not find it.

woldy, if, for whatever reason, you don't want this up here and you're mad that I posted it, I will totally take it down.

Title: These Conversations We Aren't Having
Author:gyzym
Written for:woldy
Rating: PG-13, for language.
Prompt: (I can't bear to mess with the formatting)

"Silence can be a plan
rigorously executed
the blueprint to a life.
It is a presence
it has a history, a form.
Do not confuse it
with any kind of absence.
-Adrienne Rich, from "Dream of a Common Language"

Summary: In which Sirius Black sleeps past four, there is much Indian take-away, and Remus Lupin scowls at moldy peas.
Any other notes, warnings, etc.: Seriously--while there is no fucking in this story, there is a lot of the word "fuck." Consumption (and destruction) of alcoholic beverages also occurs. Be warned. Also (and this warning was not included in the original posting), it does get a bit darker than it is at the beginning.

( And it’s your turn to pay the heat, by the by. )

Hey, so, I know I was like "Send me prompts!" and then I never answered any of them. But I'm GONNA, I just, there was this plotbunny, it ATTACKED me. Viciously and involving its teeth. But, anyway, um. It'll be done at...some time. Soonish? I hope.

Aaaand I did one of those 20 Random Things memes as a writing exercise yesterday, because I couldn't get James' voice right. And here it is, because I feel guilty about how long this stupid fic is taking me to finish. Happy *insert winter celebration here*, everyone!

Title: 20 Random Facts About Sirius Black (As Told By James Potter)
Rating: PG-13? Some discussion of tequila and nipples, some swearing.
Summary: No, you can't have a summary. It's a 20 things meme! This would have to read "Summary: James Potter says 20 random things about Sirius Black," and you guys are smart enough to figure that out from the very creative title.

( 20 )

So, here's the thing: I'm pretty much horrible about time management. I get interested in something, and I commit to it, and then I get interested in something else, and I commit to it, and all of a sudden I'm up at 4 AM going "asblkdfjdk!!!!!! WHYYYYYYYY" and I don't have time to do the things I really love.

So I'm trying this new thing now, where I commit to less and thus actually do more, and also have time to eat/sleep/breathe/fuck, etc. All the normal human things. And it occurred to me, the way stuff does when I have a moment to think, that it's been a looooong time since I've traipsed my merry way into fandom.

SO! If there's anyone out there who still reads this journal after my at-least-a-year-long-unforeseen-hiatus, comment with a pairing and a prompt, or several pairings and prompts, or one pairing and several prompts, or several prompts and one pairing...you get the idea. I will do something with as many of them as I can. I am not making promises about length or when they'll be done, because I only ever break those promises, and that's sad for everyone. But I will at some point produce you some Harry Potter fiction.

Ok? Ok.