Snippets and Whatnot

[lls_mutant]

Oh God, I'm stuffed. I just got home from the doctor's, and I was STARVED. I attacked the refrigerator and ate WAY too many calories. I'm so gonna regret this later, especially since it's raining and I can't walk today.

My big excitement these days is painting Toby's room. I can't wait to have pics of it- it's going to be SO cute. We finished (mainly) the giraffe last night, and I'm going to work on finishing the tree today, as well as sketching out the zebra. Hubby helped me paint the giraffe spots yesterday- I think he was happy he got to help with some of the painting. The cute painting, I mean- he did do the sky and the base coat for the grass. (Let's just say if Toby has any artistic talent, we'll know which parent he inherited it from!)

Have discovered Scrubs. Am loving Scrubs. Looking forward to more of that one.

Also, for anyone who co-writes (prankstersguide girls and Mutants, I'm looking at you), pfrsue pointed me to Writeboard yesterday. If you co-write, you MUST check out this resource. It looks really, really cool.

As for snippets...

I did do a PWP based on nassima's latest work, which can be found here. (The "story", I mean. The artwork is in nassima's journal and if you haven't gone to see it you need to go now, unless you're not into R/S.) Obviously, with it being a PWP, it's R/S, so be warned.

Other snippets, just to prove that YES, I have been writing! (Except AC snippets, because I don't think those should be posted in public places.)


Accidentally In Love X

"Well, whyever not?" Regulus asked. "Just get my brother," his lips twisted distastefully on the words, "to bring you back when all this is over."

"The Werewolf Registry won't let me come back."

"They will if the Dark Lord is in power."

"I doubt it," Remus said darkly.

"He's promised Dark Creatures who serve him their rights," Regulus said. The tone of his voice was petulant, and Remus noticed that his eyes lacked any fire of conviction.

"Look," he said, choosing his words as carefully as possible, trying not to sound too excited, "all through history dictators and governments have made promises like that. 'Fight for us and we'll give you your freedom.'"

"They follow through," Regulus argued. "Look at the American Civil War. Convicts were granted their freedom to fight for the South, and that wasn't retracted."

Remus raised his eyebrows, impressed. "That might be so, legally," he said. "And maybe it would happen for a few years. But the old prejudices never die, and you can never tell what will happen. Maybe Voldemort would give me my rights. But would a new Headmaster at Hogwarts hire me to teach? Would a shop owner still employ me? No. People would eventually be calling for Voldemort to hunt me down and stamp me out, and if he didn't do it, they'd do it on their own. Regulus, just look at the country we're going to to see how political promises don't pan out. Communism was supposed to bring wealth and prosperity for all. From what I understand, it hasn't. Promises are never kept."

Regulus sniffed. "You're a pessimist. And I hardly think comparing the Dark Lord to Lenin is accurate. Their ideologies are completely different."

"But the concept of promises made during wars is not," Remus riposted.

"Answer me this, then," Regulus said. "At least the Dark Lord promises you your rights, which is far more than your side does. So how could anything he does be worse than what you have now?"

"You know how you asked me why I don't just go with Sirius when all this is over?" Remus asked.

"Yes."

"If Voldemort wins, there won't be a Sirius to go with. He'll be dead." Remus opened his book. "Now shut up and let me read."



Happiness Where I Can Find It, part 2

The air was thick with anticipation when Remus returned to Frenrir’s community. The feeling was almost tangible, raising the hairs on the back of his neck and staining his nostrils with the suggestion of blood. He could see the full moon in the faces around him, alive with fear, wild anger, and lust. People were talking in tense voices, vibrating with excess energy, and physical scuffles were breaking out here and there. And there were other ways of people mitigating the intensity as well: he was shocked to come across a pair copulating in the open, her nails digging into the ground as he rutted into her. Remus moved on when he realized he was staring, a part of him amazed he could still be so easily shocked.

He sank down onto the log outside his cave, breathing heavily and trying to control the way his legs trembled. It was ridiculous. He was no stranger to sex- far from it- and some of his own encounters had been just as wild, rough, or casual. But the human touch had always been there, and that was what was missing from that couple on the ground. He shook his head and pulled his worn shirt tighter around his body.

A condescending snort greeted him, and he looked up to see de Broglie standing over him. “What?” he demanded, eying the man warily.

“Surprised you’re back,” de Broglie said. “Thought you’d be locking yourself up in some closet and hiding away from the world.”

It was what he’d done for every full moon of his life, except when he’d had the other and a few times during the first war. He’d always hated it, but tonight it was exactly what he wished he was doing. “I’m here,” he said, his voice tight. “That should say it all.”

“One might think,” de Broglie said mockingly, and Remus couldn’t help but wonder what the man’s background was. “I admit, I thought a weakling like you would cling closely to the chains that bound him." He turned and began to walk away.

“Where’s Greyback tonight?” Remus asked the retreating form.

De Broglie turned back, a tight, knowing smile on his face. “He’s in Devonshire tonight,” he said. “He has an… appointment.”

Remus managed to wait until de Broglie walked away before he vomited.



Lost Years

The wind was whipping dried leaves into frenzied tornadoes of color when Brent and Remus returned to the house, laughing as they raced to the door. Remus won. But barely.

"You're fast," Brent said as they panted for breath on the porch.

"I had to be when I was your age," Remus said. "My friends and I got into a lot of trouble."

"What did you do?"

"All sorts of things that your father would probably kill me for telling you."

"Come on. Please?" Brent begged. "Tell me!"

Remus sorted through the stories, trying to find the one that did the least amount of damage. "Well, one time we were in Care of Magical Creatures. We were working with a bowtruckle. And my friend James put it down this bloke's robe, and my other friend tossed rice in his hair. I didn't do it, but he knew my friends did, and he would have gotten me if he could catch me."

"Why? What did the bowtruckle do?" Brent asked.

"Well, what does rice look like?"

"It's little and white and kind of pointy."

"Right. What does wood lice look like like?"

"Little and white and… I get it! It looks like rice!" Brent pondered this. "Why didn't your friend just put wood lice in his hair?"

"Probably because he couldn't get any without Professor Kettleburn noticing," Remus said dryly. One thing was for certain- it was far easier to see Sirius's actions in their true light these days. "I did ask, and he said it was because he thought I'd get really mad at him, but I think the first is true."

"So what did the bowtruckle do?" Brent persisted.

"It crawled around a lot in his robes and nipped him. He couldn't figure out what was going on for a while. But you should have seen his face!"

Brent laughed, picturing it, and Remus desperately hoped he'd forget that particular story long before he found a bowtruckle. Likely, but who knew? "Come on," he said, pushing the door open. "Your father will be wondering where we are."



Secret Keepers

It might have been a beautiful day in October, but Hermione was oblivious, having spent the morning in the library and this afternoon in various professors' offices. There was the matter of that Transfiguration homework: Professor McGonagall had taken points for her definition of Alteration Spells, but Hermione had found the definition in an older text. McGonagall had been forced to admit that it was a much more complete description of the spell, even if it wasn't what appeared in the Standard Book of Spells Grade Three. Then she'd had to see Professor Snape. He had been dissatisfied with her essay on the uses of aconite in Potion Making. (How could she forget the Wolfsbane Potion? Oh, she could have kicked herself for that!) And now she was headed to Professor Lupin's office, although as she stood outside the door, she wondered if that was a good idea. It sounded like someone was dying inside.

Perhaps they were due to start banshees in the next week? Hermione couldn't remember, but given the noise from behind the closed door, it wouldn't surprise her. She knocked, but no one answered.

From what she remembered about banshees, they were fatal if you heard the sound of their voice… or the sound of their voice signified death. There was some debate about that in the literature, especially as few people felt it a good idea to test the hypothesis. But if there truly was some monstrous creature behind the walls… she cracked the door open and poked her head in, and then stared in shock, bookbag falling to the floor.

Professor Lupin was sitting at his desk, grading papers and (for the lack of a better term), singing.

There was a Muggle radio hooked up somehow; Hermione wondered how he'd done it. The speakers were blaring an Aerosmith song, and Professor Lupin was singing along with all the inhibited confidence that came from the belief that absolutely no one was watching you. He was a terrible singer, his voice cracking on the high notes and off key on the low notes. Hermione couldn't help it; she began to giggle.

Professor Lupin dropped his quill and his head jerked up, and she was certain she saw him flush red. But he regained his composure quickly, shutting off the radio and gesturing to the seat before his desk. "Hermione," he said, with a calm smile. "How can I help you?"

She didn't take the proffered seat, but stood instead staring at the machinery. "How did you ever get that to work?" she asked. "With all the magic around here, Muggle devices aren't supposed to be able to operate."

Professor Lupin chuckled. "True enough, Hermione. But when I was in school, a friend of mine figured out how to run electrical devices off a mixture of bubbertuber pus and aconite." He winked at her, and somehow she knew he knew about that essay she'd had trouble with. "The only problem is that you can't do anything about the reception and have to make do with a set list of songs, and I'm afraid I have absolutely terrible taste in music. What are you doing inside on a day like today? Aren't Ron and Harry about?"

Hermione waved her hand, half in dismissal and half indicating the world outside Professor Lupin's window. "You know," she said, her attention still on the radio, "no one would ever believe me if I told them I caught you singing along to an Aerosmith song."

"No one except Professor McGonagall," he agreed, again with a smooth smile. "I would appreciate it, Hermione, if you wouldn't mention it. I really don't need to hear half the student body crooning at me."

She laughed, because that was exactly what would happen, she was sure. "All right. I won't. I promise."



Our Fault

It was a transfer. Not a firing, not even- yes, it was. It was a demotion. But it was still work and he could still- fuck it. Fuck it all.

Damien was cleaning out his desk when Alastor Moody stopped by his cubicle. “Heard the sprog is out of Mungo’s,” he grunted.

“Yes.”

“And heard you’re out of the Aurors.”

“Yes.”

“Going to fight it?”

Damien looked up at his co-worker. “Got any suggestions on how?”

Moody spread his hands.

“Well then.” Damien waved his wand and watched as the desk drawers emptied of their own accord.

“If there’s anything I can do to help you…”

Damien jolted out of his misery for a moment. “You know,” he said slowly, looking up at Moody, “you are the first person to say that. You are probably the only person to say that.”

Neither of them had an answer for that.



Mutant Viewing of Fellowship of the Ring

1:36:00: "Do you remember when we first met?" Ugh. I really didn't need this sap. Blech. Give me swords, darn it!

1:37:44: Boy, Elrond sounds like an angry parent here.

1:38:33: Can you imagine if someone in Congress started a proposal with seeing something in a dream? It would so not fly.

1:39:55: A little bitter there, Boromir?

1:40:28: Y'know, it's amazing that Legolas and Boromir don't kill each other right then and there. (Amusingly, Orlando Bloom originally auditioned to play Faramir. I like him better as Legolas though. Especially since it's David Wenham as Faramir. We all know how I feel about Faramir.)

1:41:25: The red pill or the blue pill? Okay. I'll stop making stupid Matrix jokes now.



The Image of Harry Potter

(Hmmm. This article may require revision after HBP!)

There are three people who are perfectly, dead on cast in this series. Tom Felton as Draco Malfoy, Robbie Coltraine as Rubeus Hagrid, and Alan Rickman as Professor Severus Snape. There is only one minor flaw in the casting job, and that’s that Severus is only about 34 or 35 at the time of Prisoner of Azkaban, and Alan Rickman is in his ?’s as I write this. But given Snape’s general appearance of, well, ickiness, it works all right. And considering Rickman fits every other aspect of Snape perfectly and when I was told he was playing Snape for the first movie I nearly screamed with delight, the age thing can be forgiven.

Easily the most mysterious and fascinating character in the series (followed only by Professor Lupin), Severus Snape is constantly suspected- both by Harry and the reader- of being evil, especially as he is Head of the Slytherin House. However, Dumbledore insists that he trusts Snape, although by the writing of Order of the Phoenix we’ve yet to discover why. In fact, we know very little about Snape. We know he’s in his 30’s, teaches Potions but wants to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, he hates Harry and hated his father, and… well, I’ll leave the last little tidbit out just in case you’re one of the eight people who doesn’t know the story.

Snape favors his own students and dislikes Gryffindors, and is often flat out cruel to Harry. We’re not talking just a few remarks here and there- he’s sadistic. He’s sarcastic, unpleasant, and flat out rude to most of the Defense Against the Dark Art teachers. (The exception is his nemesis Professor Lupin, to whom “rude” would be an understatement.) So was there anyone better on this earth to play Professor Snape than Alan Rickman? With the exception of the age thing, no. Absolutely not.

Rickman’s got the hooked nose. He’s got the sallow face. He’s got the condescending look. He’s got the sarcastic, smooth voice. Give him a wig and he’s got the greasy hair (ew, but everyone in the books agrees with me on that!) as well. Perfect, perfect, perfect, perfect.

Now, if you thought finding fan art of Draco was hard, let me tell you, Snape is even harder. Despite the fact he is the most unpleasant character possible, he is more of a romantic hero than any other character out there. Don’t ask me why, because I can’t get over the hair issue. I can understand two theories: he might have been in love with Lily, Harry’s mother, or if you’re a little more creative he might have been in love with Remus Lupin when they were kids. But in general, I agree with what’s called the “Pink Flamingo” theory concerning Snape: that romance is such a back burner issue in these books, and Snape is such an unpleasant, icky character that putting a romantic subplot in his life is like putting a pink flamingo in a Gothic Cathedral. (I really wish I could claim credit for that analogy, but I can’t.) However, I was lucky enough to find Tealin’s art gallery, and she sticks to what J.K. Rowling has written. I really like her version of Snape, even if he might be a little better looking than he should be. (Although he’s never described as ugly, except perhaps by Sirius Black, who can not be called a reliable witness when it comes to Snape.) Anyway, I love the sneer that Tealin managed to capture, and the stringy look of Snape’s hair. (Also notice I managed to find a picture that has Lupin in it as well. Oops. Yeah right.)



Or whatever my paper is going to be called.

Biodiesel is an alternative diesel fuel consisting of the alkyl monoesters of fatty acids. The use of biodiesel offers many environmental advantages over petrodiesel. Biodiesel is made from animal and vegetable fats and oils and is therefore a renewable resource. It is less toxic and more biodegradable than petrodiesel, and its combustion results in a decrease in particulate, hydrocarbon, and carbon monoxide emissions compared to petrodiesel. However, an increase in nitrogen oxide (NOx) emissions from biodiesel combustion, relative to levels observed from petrodiesel combustion, as been reported by several researchers.1-4 This increase is of concern in areas that are subject to strict environmental regulations, such as air quality low-attainment areas, inner cities, and national parks. For universal acceptance of biodiesel, it is desirable to reduce NOx emissions to at least levels observed with petrodiesel.

NOx emissions from diesel engines consist of two major components: nitrogen oxide (NO) and nitrogen dioxide (NO2). NO can be formed by two pathways: the Zeldovich (or thermal) mechanism and the Fenimore (or prompt) mechanism.5 In the Zeldovich mechanism, NO is formed by the oxidation of atmospheric nitrogen and oxygen. The rate of formation is largely temperature-dependent, with a higher flame temperature resulting in higher NO emissions. In the Fenimore mechanism, fuel radicals formed in the flame react with the atmospheric nitrogen, leading to the formation of compounds that subsequently react with oxygen to form NO. No one species has been pinpointed as being solely responsible for NO formation in hydrocarbon reactions. The Fenimore mechanism is considered to be the less important of the two mechanisms, accounting for a smaller amount of NO production.5 NO2 makes up as much as 10-30% of diesel NOx emissions. It is produced from the reaction of NO with peroxy radicals. Higher formation of NO2 occurs at light engine loads, whereas heavier loads have lower proportions of NO2 in the exhaust.6

(Bored yet?)


Enjoy!