update and request
Jun. 24th, 2004 02:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rynneThe Remus/Sirius reclist has been updated with 13 more recs, giving it a total of 144. And now I can't think of any more, so if you'd like to recommend some that I've missed, comment here or in that post with a link and I'll check it out.
Now I have a request. A couple months ago I started working on a fic inspired by this comic by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
monophobia, and I know I posted the first bit here. Thing is, I haven't written much more beyond that, as I don't know where to go, but I like the premise and I think it's funny and I want to finish it.
So, if any of you could help me out with comments and suggestions, that would be very much appreciated, and you'll be credited when I finally finish and post the thing. Anyway, here it is. Suggestions for continuing/ending only please--I'll wait for my betas to actually give it a good beta-reading. *g*
Sirius, Remus reflected, was really one unlucky son of a bitch.
In more ways than one. Especially now that he’d completely the Animagus transformation. Remus couldn’t have helped laughing, after all the times Sirius called his mother a bitch and it turned out that he was a dog. Now there’s irony for you.
But that wasn’t what was making Sirius so unlucky. Not right now, at least—Remus figured that he’d probably think Sirius even more unlucky when Christmas rolled around and Mrs Black sent another Howler as a present, which she’d done every year since he was Sorted into Gryffindor. But there was something else going on.
Sirius caught a cold.
But not just any cold, it seemed. No, this was a magical cold. And there was a difference, really, between magical colds and Muggle colds. Which was that magical colds made magical things happen, as can be inferred from the term “magical cold”. And they had different effects on each person.
Remus himself hadn’t caught it—he wasn’t really sick much at all. He supposed that werewolves just had good immune systems, aside from the disease itself. But all his friends had caught it, and it appeared to be…playing with their Animagus forms.
Whenever James coughed, he grew a pair of antlers, which would go away the next time he coughed, only to return when he coughed a third time, and so on. He complained that it made trying to sleep very uncomfortable, which Remus didn’t doubt, with some amusement. The antlers were also damned hard to hide, but the one time they’d popped up in Transfiguration, McGonagall had, luckily enough, seen the correlation between James’s illness and his sudden rack, and sent him off to Madam Pomfrey, none the wiser about his Animagus form.
Peter had a tail that tended to grow or shrink whenever he sniffled. He rather had fun playing with it, actually. But Remus tried not to think about that. The image of Peter playing with an overgrown rat’s tail sprouting from his tailbone with a furtive smile on his face was something that Remus rather preferred to have stamped out of his mind forever. One just didn’t think about Peter that way.
And as for Sirius…well, Sirius was currently looking at him with puppy eyes. Again, quite literally. Sirius seemed to be the most virulently sick among them, and hadn’t dared to go beyond the bounds of the dorm room for two days now. As he told Remus dryly the night before when they got into bed, antlers and tails were all very good—excuses could be made for them. Especially when most of their body stayed human. But turning into a giant Grim whenever you sneezed? No, Sirius concluded. He was far more likely to give away the game than were James or Peter should he venture outside the dormitory, and that was that. Of course, it didn’t hurt that he was missing class. Sirius always loved a good excuse to miss class, and here was an entirely legitimate one.
Well, a legitimate, if highly annoying, one. Remus suspected that the novelty had worn off of Sirius after the first several hours of turning into a dog every time he sneezed. It was also highly inconvenient, because they never knew when another sneeze would be coming on, and Remus didn’t fancy kissing a dog, much less fucking a dog, when he’d been trying to fuck a man. Not his idea of fun. Kinky, yes. But fun…he didn’t think so.
So he’d refused to have sex with Sirius for two days. Sirius wasn’t happy with this, of course, and had immediately commenced with the puppy eyes every time Remus shoved him away when it seemed like he was about to sneeze. But Remus’s resolve just grew firmer when the puppy eyes became actual puppy’s eyes. If he gave in, dog hair on his robes would be the least of his worries.
But that didn’t sit well with Sirius. It’s not like two days is a long time, Remus told himself every time Sirius glared at him from across the room. Even if the slight flush Sirius got in his human form as a result of the cold was rather fetching, and he would rather like to see if the pinkness extended much below his neck…Sirius sneezed twice in rapid succession, becoming human momentarily before returning to being a dog. Well, there went that temptation. Padfoot just didn’t have the fetching flush that Sirius did.
But perhaps the worst thing about this cold was that it gave Sirius no control whatsoever over his Animagus form—sneezing was the only thing that triggered the transformation. Remus couldn’t help a twinge of guilty satisfaction, for as much as he loved his friends and appreciated what they did for him, he was almost glad that at least one of them would know what it was like to transform involuntarily. Of course, he squashed that thought whenever it popped up, but that was the reality of the situation. Well, he consoled himself, at least they still weren’t ripping themselves apart.
So Sirius was miserable. Doubly so, for as James and Peter were getting over their colds, his own was just getting worse, and Remus refusing to do more than kiss him (however nice that was) just put icing on the cake. But it wasn’t Sirius who might end up accidentally having sex with a canine, so Remus felt quite within his rights to refuse. No matter how much Sirius pouted.
Sirius whined, and Remus covered his ears. Puppy eyes and whining, two things he really didn’t need, and two things he was barraged with whenever he was in the room with Sirius as a dog and not doing what Sirius wanted him to do. He’s rather like a cat in that respect, Remus thought. Convinced the world revolves around him and that you’ll be simply delighted to scratch his ruff and that scratching his ruff is your whole raison d’etre. Not that Sirius would be happy with the comparison to a cat, but Remus wasn’t feeling very generous with Sirius at the moment.
The dog sneezed and a now-human Sirius wrinkled his nose. Well, at least the puppy eyes—the literal ones, that is—were gone. But when in his human form, Sirius could use his second deadliest (or at least irresistible) weapon, the pout. Any attempted pouting as a dog would just make him look like he was grinning, and Sirius learned very quickly after he was first able to transform that, while somewhat cute, grinning at Remus was not going to make him do whatever Sirius wanted. It was, in fact, more inclined to make him laugh than to make him fall at Sirius’s paws and vow to do anything Sirius desired. Which, at the moment, would include lots and lots of sex. But Remus had decided at the start of this debacle not to oblige him, and nothing Sirius had done so far had been able to budge him.
Now I have a request. A couple months ago I started working on a fic inspired by this comic by
monophobia, and I know I posted the first bit here. Thing is, I haven't written much more beyond that, as I don't know where to go, but I like the premise and I think it's funny and I want to finish it.So, if any of you could help me out with comments and suggestions, that would be very much appreciated, and you'll be credited when I finally finish and post the thing. Anyway, here it is. Suggestions for continuing/ending only please--I'll wait for my betas to actually give it a good beta-reading. *g*
Sirius, Remus reflected, was really one unlucky son of a bitch.
In more ways than one. Especially now that he’d completely the Animagus transformation. Remus couldn’t have helped laughing, after all the times Sirius called his mother a bitch and it turned out that he was a dog. Now there’s irony for you.
But that wasn’t what was making Sirius so unlucky. Not right now, at least—Remus figured that he’d probably think Sirius even more unlucky when Christmas rolled around and Mrs Black sent another Howler as a present, which she’d done every year since he was Sorted into Gryffindor. But there was something else going on.
Sirius caught a cold.
But not just any cold, it seemed. No, this was a magical cold. And there was a difference, really, between magical colds and Muggle colds. Which was that magical colds made magical things happen, as can be inferred from the term “magical cold”. And they had different effects on each person.
Remus himself hadn’t caught it—he wasn’t really sick much at all. He supposed that werewolves just had good immune systems, aside from the disease itself. But all his friends had caught it, and it appeared to be…playing with their Animagus forms.
Whenever James coughed, he grew a pair of antlers, which would go away the next time he coughed, only to return when he coughed a third time, and so on. He complained that it made trying to sleep very uncomfortable, which Remus didn’t doubt, with some amusement. The antlers were also damned hard to hide, but the one time they’d popped up in Transfiguration, McGonagall had, luckily enough, seen the correlation between James’s illness and his sudden rack, and sent him off to Madam Pomfrey, none the wiser about his Animagus form.
Peter had a tail that tended to grow or shrink whenever he sniffled. He rather had fun playing with it, actually. But Remus tried not to think about that. The image of Peter playing with an overgrown rat’s tail sprouting from his tailbone with a furtive smile on his face was something that Remus rather preferred to have stamped out of his mind forever. One just didn’t think about Peter that way.
And as for Sirius…well, Sirius was currently looking at him with puppy eyes. Again, quite literally. Sirius seemed to be the most virulently sick among them, and hadn’t dared to go beyond the bounds of the dorm room for two days now. As he told Remus dryly the night before when they got into bed, antlers and tails were all very good—excuses could be made for them. Especially when most of their body stayed human. But turning into a giant Grim whenever you sneezed? No, Sirius concluded. He was far more likely to give away the game than were James or Peter should he venture outside the dormitory, and that was that. Of course, it didn’t hurt that he was missing class. Sirius always loved a good excuse to miss class, and here was an entirely legitimate one.
Well, a legitimate, if highly annoying, one. Remus suspected that the novelty had worn off of Sirius after the first several hours of turning into a dog every time he sneezed. It was also highly inconvenient, because they never knew when another sneeze would be coming on, and Remus didn’t fancy kissing a dog, much less fucking a dog, when he’d been trying to fuck a man. Not his idea of fun. Kinky, yes. But fun…he didn’t think so.
So he’d refused to have sex with Sirius for two days. Sirius wasn’t happy with this, of course, and had immediately commenced with the puppy eyes every time Remus shoved him away when it seemed like he was about to sneeze. But Remus’s resolve just grew firmer when the puppy eyes became actual puppy’s eyes. If he gave in, dog hair on his robes would be the least of his worries.
But that didn’t sit well with Sirius. It’s not like two days is a long time, Remus told himself every time Sirius glared at him from across the room. Even if the slight flush Sirius got in his human form as a result of the cold was rather fetching, and he would rather like to see if the pinkness extended much below his neck…Sirius sneezed twice in rapid succession, becoming human momentarily before returning to being a dog. Well, there went that temptation. Padfoot just didn’t have the fetching flush that Sirius did.
But perhaps the worst thing about this cold was that it gave Sirius no control whatsoever over his Animagus form—sneezing was the only thing that triggered the transformation. Remus couldn’t help a twinge of guilty satisfaction, for as much as he loved his friends and appreciated what they did for him, he was almost glad that at least one of them would know what it was like to transform involuntarily. Of course, he squashed that thought whenever it popped up, but that was the reality of the situation. Well, he consoled himself, at least they still weren’t ripping themselves apart.
So Sirius was miserable. Doubly so, for as James and Peter were getting over their colds, his own was just getting worse, and Remus refusing to do more than kiss him (however nice that was) just put icing on the cake. But it wasn’t Sirius who might end up accidentally having sex with a canine, so Remus felt quite within his rights to refuse. No matter how much Sirius pouted.
Sirius whined, and Remus covered his ears. Puppy eyes and whining, two things he really didn’t need, and two things he was barraged with whenever he was in the room with Sirius as a dog and not doing what Sirius wanted him to do. He’s rather like a cat in that respect, Remus thought. Convinced the world revolves around him and that you’ll be simply delighted to scratch his ruff and that scratching his ruff is your whole raison d’etre. Not that Sirius would be happy with the comparison to a cat, but Remus wasn’t feeling very generous with Sirius at the moment.
The dog sneezed and a now-human Sirius wrinkled his nose. Well, at least the puppy eyes—the literal ones, that is—were gone. But when in his human form, Sirius could use his second deadliest (or at least irresistible) weapon, the pout. Any attempted pouting as a dog would just make him look like he was grinning, and Sirius learned very quickly after he was first able to transform that, while somewhat cute, grinning at Remus was not going to make him do whatever Sirius wanted. It was, in fact, more inclined to make him laugh than to make him fall at Sirius’s paws and vow to do anything Sirius desired. Which, at the moment, would include lots and lots of sex. But Remus had decided at the start of this debacle not to oblige him, and nothing Sirius had done so far had been able to budge him.
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no subject
Date: 2004-06-24 06:42 am (UTC)The Remus Lupin and Sirius Black Diaries (http://www.thebroomcupboard.net/welcome/deeryma/index.htm) by
no subject
Date: 2004-06-24 10:21 pm (UTC)In more ways than one. Especially now that he’d completely the Animagus transformation. Remus couldn’t have helped laughing, after all the times Sirius called his mother a bitch and it turned out that he was a dog. Now there’s irony for you.
Really, I think you could cut out all but the first two sentences here. The verb tenses of "couldn't have helped laughing" confused me for a while, until I finally realized that you meant he was thinking of when he'd first found out Sirius's animagus form, and really you're overexplaining the joke. The first two sentences make the joke; you don't need to spell it out.
But that wasn’t what was making Sirius so unlucky. Not right now, at least—Remus figured that he’d probably think Sirius even more unlucky when Christmas rolled around and Mrs Black sent another Howler as a present, which she’d done every year since he was Sorted into Gryffindor. But there was something else going on.
This, too, feels rather awkward. I don't really see the irony of the "son of a bitch" thing as something that makes him unlucky; perhaps you could say something like "But it wasn't his mother who was making Sirius so unlucky. Not right now, at least, though Remus figured that he'd change his mind on that score when Christmas rolled around..." to clarify what's unlucky and what isn't, here. And to avoid saying "unlucky" too many times in a few paragraphs. Also, I'm not sure of "something going on," as to me that implies mischief rather than a simple problem.
But not just any cold, it seemed. No, this was a magical cold. And there was a difference, really, between magical colds and Muggle colds. Which was that magical colds made magical things happen, as can be inferred from the term “magical cold”. And they had different effects on each person.
I'd cut out the "as can be inferred from the term 'magical cold.'" It kind of goes without saying, and it makes the sentence feel really clunky. If you want to keep that reflection, maybe make it "logical enough, really" or "they were accurately if not creatively named" or something. Though I must admit I'm really amused by this concept.
As I said, after this bit it smooths out into a very funny little story. I have to admit to failure, though, in trying to think of a way to end it. I'll let you know if I think of something. Gah, how frustrating, because it's a lovely little concept, but the story wants an end.
no subject
Date: 2004-06-25 04:25 pm (UTC)Anyway, really the only thing I was looking for when I posted this bit was a way to continue/end the thing. I guess I should have been clearer about that,