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[02 Apr 2005|01:59pm]
The Sudden Light and the Trees, Part 9Collapse )

See userinfo [12 Mar 2005|11:19am]
The Sudden Light and the Trees, Part 8Collapse )

See userinfo [10 Mar 2005|10:25am]
The Sudden Light and the Trees, Part 7Collapse )

See userinfo [08 Mar 2005|06:42am]
The Sudden Light and the Trees, Part 6Collapse )

See userinfo [08 Mar 2005|05:26am]
The Sudden Light and the Trees, Part 5Collapse )

See userinfo [07 Mar 2005|04:25pm]
The Sudden Light and the Trees, Part 4Collapse )

See userinfo [07 Mar 2005|01:25pm]
The Sudden Light and the Trees, Part 3Collapse )

See userinfo [07 Mar 2005|08:20am]
The Sudden Light and the Trees, Part 2Collapse )

See Userinfo [04 Mar 2005|02:21am]
The Sudden Light and the Trees, Part 1Collapse )

Until we meet again. [11 Dec 2004|02:38am]
I must say I never thought I'd have to make a post like this. Many was the time through my adolescence when I was scared by the very thought of doing what I've decided I must now do, but I think by this point my news will come as a surprise to very few: I haven't exactly been active in fandom since August, after all.

This is my cliched Farewell to Fandom post.Collapse )
12 comments|post comment

Queerditch Drabbles and a QUESTION!! [23 Nov 2004|09:48am]
I don't think I did any normal pairings this week. Well, the Sirius/Regulus/Remus wasn't so bad, but I made it a very strange relationship! Hugs and love to all of you, and a question:

Many post-war fics depict a world of debauchery and indolence. But how could a society based on toying with slaves/war-trophies and plundering the Ministry/Hogwarts survive? When all is said and done, and the sex starts to bore, how do you think the Dark Lord's post-war world would look?

(Bonus points if you can link to a fic you've written or read that deals with this)

Anyway... back to drabbling.

The theme was "The Black Family"

Kreacher/Dobby - SocksCollapse )
Phineas/Mrs. Black - Black WidowCollapse )
Sirius/Regulus/Remus - Keeping SecretsCollapse )
4 comments|post comment

[21 Nov 2004|08:52am]
Hi guys. Long time no post, huh? I'm starting to think my focus on NaNo in the months leading up to November was what really made me feel a little withdrawn from fandom. That, and I couldn't keep up with my promises, and that likely disheartened me too.

Tabula rasa, please? I'd love to hear how're you're all doing. What's the big news in your lives?? Hugs and love, and fic.

Title: Thunder and Lightning
Written For: froda_baggins as part of the queerditch_pub Remix challenge!
Pairing: Sirius/Remus
Rating: R
Warnings: Smut and references to some pain suffered by Sirius
Word Count: 2393
Disclaimer: Not my characters.

Thunder and Lightning
2 comments|post comment

More! Harry/Draco, for bookshop [23 Sep 2004|02:08pm]
I have downloaded something called the SoundMasker. This is a way cool white noise program that I've taken an instant liking to, seeing as I live in a rather loud dorm. This should certainly prove helpful for future writing!

That said... onto one very strange fic o_o

Title: A Delicate Balance
Written For: bookshop
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Warnings: Er... injury?
[Error: Irreparable invalid markup ('<_<>') in entry. Owner must fix manually. Raw contents below.]

I have downloaded something called the SoundMasker. This is a way cool white noise program that I've taken an instant liking to, seeing as I live in a rather loud dorm. This should certainly prove helpful for future writing!

That said... onto one very strange fic o_o

<b>Title:</b> A Delicate Balance
<b>Written For:</b> <lj user="wayfairer">
<b>Pairing:</b> Harry/Draco
<b>Warnings:</b> Er... injury? <_<
<b>Word Count:</b> 1000

<lj-cut text="A Delicate Balance">

“Whose blood is on me, Potter?”

Harry was womb-warm and sticky, and all about him there was dark. The words jarred him, but sleep was still easier than response. His eyes fell shuttered; his body was limp against the tightness of their enclosure, the constriction they’d found, each on his own, in the hollow below a tree stump. Sleep was so easy here.

Draco jabbed at him again with a hand, his left. It was, if Harry recalled properly, the only part of Draco’s body that could still move. Harry shut his eyes tighter as the jabbing turned vicious, and the words grew louder, molded by the earthy curve of their shelter, their perhaps-tomb.

“Whose blood is it, Potter?”

Harry sighed, and raised a weakened hand to deflect the pain. “It’s just blood,” he mumbled, and, frowning, realized his glasses were cracked, and that he could no longer quite place Draco save for through faint snatches white and blond. He could barely move a hand to find Draco’s face, but eventually fingers fell clammy to the cool of Draco’s cheek.

Draco shoved Harry’s hand away with his only useful one, and then he pressed further, hand snaking to the easy, blood-smeared curve of Harry’s neck. He started to squeeze, and Harry could feel the trembling in Draco’s grip, the utter exhaustion, and he smiled.

“I won’t do it,” said Draco, attempting a snarl and failing. Now there was only fright, and disgust. “I won’t die with your filthy blood on me, Potter. Shove off me. Shove <i>off.</i>”

“We’re here to die then, yeah?” asked Harry, and he shut his eyes again, still smiling, muscles all but numb now to the pain that had driven him here only minutes – hours? – ago. It was warm and he liked it here. He liked the dark now that he’d driven it from land. He laughed at that, a hoarse and wheezing sound, and Draco squeezed all the harder.

“Get out,” Draco hissed, and now fear grew sharp in his voice. “Get out. If they find you in here they’ll just blow up the stump and I’ll die too! Get out, Potter!” He tried to shove him, but with only one arm there was only so far he could push, and then exhaustion hit, and his arm buckled, and he curled small against the back of the hollow, with Harry still resting limp and sleepy against him, torso to sticky torso.

“I don’t think I can,” Harry yawned, tucking forehead to sweaty forehead. Anger warmed the skin, he decided. Maybe that’s why they’d fought for so long. Everyone needed to stay warm.

“Why not?” Draco’s voice came small now, still thick with his desperation, the final push of adrenalin geared towards survival. “You have to, Potter. Your blood—it’s on me—and they’ll come, Potter—to save me—and you’re ruining it. You’ve ruined everything. You have to, Potter. You have to get off.” He was pleading by the end, and Harry, his nose resting at Draco’s cheek, smiled at the scent of a different salt. Mind fuzzy with the warmth, the welcome of it, the familiarity of the heartbeat he could feel against his own, he nudged mouth to skin and licked it clean.

Draco froze at the contact, and his heartbeat seemed to come all the faster. Harry hummed against cheek and laid limp hand between them, to Draco’s neck, mustering just enough energy to stroke thumb over ready jugular. Draco made a small sound then, and Harry listened to it, and wished right then that he could move more, that he could tilt his mouth to jaw, and suck at the point where sound was born, and make it his.

Draco shut his eyes, shuddering into revulsion again, and tried to push at Harry but failed, and slumped with more soft sounds that Harry wanted as his own. The hand at his throat withdrew just enough to form a fist, and that fist came to rest at the nape of Harry’s neck and shoulder. “Fuck you, Potter,” he said, and pleaded, “You selfish, stupid prick. You have to get out. I can’t die like this. Why can’t you rot outside like everyone else? Why did you have to come here? Why did you have to…” - another sound rose, hiccoughed and angry. “You… you fucking degenerate.”

Harry inhaled deeply, exhilarated by the words. <i>Is this why we argued for so long</i>, he wondered, thinking just then that he could see Draco clearer in his insults, in his loathing, than failing sight had managed in all the last few moments combined: <i>is it easier to be real in hate, easier to form connections through cruelty?</i>

“Be quiet,” said Harry. He didn’t want sharpness, he decided. The time for that had passed, and with it definition. <i>Where do I end anyway?</i> he thought, and was drowsy with the concept. He couldn’t feel anything below his chest but warmth, sticky to the press of more warmth, more wetness. <i>Where do you begin?</i> he wondered, as Draco’s hand slid down between them, trying to find the answer.

Harry could hardly hear the cry that came soon after, pained and frightened against his shoulder. The war won, these little battles lost, his whole life drew to a single point; nearing his earthen release, a seeping weight of red against the worms, the bugs that would soon join them, unfound and approaching a better sleep, he was glad for it. Draco moaned again against him and then Harry knew Draco must have realized it too, the weight between them a fluke, a stability – two stomach wounds feeding into each other, a delicate balance, a denial of isolation at the end. <i>We need each other after all.</i>

Harry sighed, thumbing Draco’s neck anew against the muffled sounds, the whimper. “I’m tired,” he said, simply, almost too quietly to be heard, and shut his eyes. It was warm in their burrow-bed, and nothing else seemed to matter anymore.
2 comments|post comment

And again! 13X5 (Gundam Wing) for slaygirl [23 Sep 2004|12:08pm]
Did I mention my computer sucks monkey balls? I have no idea why it does this, but it randomly freezes up and in the reboot, it deletes all my temp files -- word documents included. I have no idea why but I don't like it. It suggests a sign of a more permanent crash to come at any moment. o_o

In the meantime, fic!

Title: A Gradual Absolution
Written For: slaygirl
Pairing: 13+5
Warnings: Eh. Fleeting references to character death.
Word Count: 1000

A Gradual AbsolutionCollapse )
1 comment|post comment

And... trying again! Regulus/James for soothsayer87 [23 Sep 2004|11:07am]
Boo. I fell right back to sleep after my last post. Which means I still have to get my textbook at some point. Man, I am a mess some days. ._. Bah. Let's try this again, yeah?

Next up:

Title: Choices
Written For: Lyssira
Pairing: Regulus/James
Warnings: Some violence
Word Count: 1000+ words (sorry; couldn't fit the restraints for this one, no matter how much I tweaked)

ChoicesCollapse )
4 comments|post comment

Fic time! Starting with Snape/Karkaroff for isiscolo [23 Sep 2004|08:07am]
Whew. So maybe promising that I'd start last night wasn't the greatest idea I've ever had. Coming out of 8 hours of class and moderating a writing workshop later that same evening made me exhausted and, as such, I tried to stay up and... failed. So! Whether you like it or not, the ficcing shall begin now.
[Error: Irreparable invalid markup ('<_<>') in entry. Owner must fix manually. Raw contents below.]

Whew. So maybe promising that I'd start last night wasn't the greatest idea I've ever had. Coming out of 8 hours of class and moderating a writing workshop later that same evening made me exhausted and, as such, I tried to stay up and... failed. So! Whether you like it or not, the ficcing shall begin now. <_< Barring an interruption at nine when I go to the bookstore to buy my last textbook. That said, onto the first one, right?


<b>Title:</b> After the Lesson
<b>Written for:</b> <lj user="isiscolo">
<b>Pairing:</b> Snape/Karkaroff
<b>Warnings:</b> dubious consent, smut
<b>Word Count:</b> 1000

<lj-cut text="After the Lesson">

<i>"I'll talk to you after my lesson, Karkaroff," Snape muttered, but Karkaroff interrupted him.
"I want to talk now, while you can't slip off, Severus. You've been avoiding me."
"After the lesson," Snape snapped. </i>

Snape took his time shutting the door. Karkaroff stood in the middle of the room, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He watched warily as Snape turned, black eyes glittering with anger, with resignation, to look at him.

"You always were among the densest of Death Eaters, weren't you, Igor?"

"That is not funny, Severus," said Karkaroff, voice straining at the words. "This is serious."

"Oh, I agree." Snape regarded him with something of coldness and approached. "And I am still waiting for you to take it seriously."

Karkaroff tensed, hand finding the desk behind him, talking a faltering step back as Snape neared. "What – what do you mean, take it seriously!" He laughed, a harsh, barking thing, and flashed panicked grey eyes behind a faulty smile as Snape, sallow skin and darkened gaze, caught Karkaroff's wrist fast, and hard. “He is coming, Severus.”

“Yes,” Snape agreed, and his expression was sharp, steely. He tugged wrist and arm to him and approached Karkaroff further. “And you run about like one with his head cut off. It is not the time to run, Igor.”

“It is the perfect time to run!” Karkaroff’s mouth twitched, his stubbly grey goatee curling with the start of a cold, helpless smile. Snape’s fingers dug deeper into the skin, but Karkaroff did not wince, not even as Snape drew himself almost flush against him, against the desk.

“You fool,” Snape hissed, and twisted Karkaroff’s arm so that Karkaroff winced, and was forced to turn about to spare himself a broken limb, and Snape pressed his advantage, planting feet firm on either side of Karkaroff’s beside the desk, hip hard up against black-robed hip, his wrist pinning the bulk of Karkaroff’s lean, older weight over the desk, papers and inkwells and all. Karkaroff’s wisp of a beard just grazed the far side of the desk, and he moaned once before regaining his senses and shutting up, body poised and shaking in Snape’s grip. “Those who run will make themselves more visible to Him,” Snape continued, voice firm and hand firmer against the pinned arm, grip tightening whenever Karkaroff made to move.

“Those who run will be in His sight. And for that – not for the trial, not for doing what Slytherins doing best, not for saving your skin all those years ago – He will find you…” Snape’s lean mass, bony and lithe, rested against Karkaroff’s backside. He shifted, and Snape shifted in turn, until hard consequences found their rest at the ridge, and Snape’s free hand ghosted cloaked, shuddering backside to ruck up robes, ankles latching firm to ankles in the interim. “He will find you,” Snape repeated, as he watched Karkaroff turn his head away, eyes shut and shuddering, swallowing heavily at the new pressure, the thick black cotton to skinny, tapering thighs, to the trail of grey-white hairs that ran down from Karkaroff’s spine, along and twisting through the crease of his arse to curl all the more around his scrotum, small and hard and hanging tucked against the side of the desk. “And He will kill you,” Snape promised, and his voice was low as his hand found his own robes, and did them less a disservice, parting folds only enough to spring long, thin cock, the paleness of it, the quivering, from grey pants and blackest robes.

“So,” he said then, and the world seemed to hang unbreathing with Karkaroff, the tenseness of his body, the twitch in his shoulders as he restrained himself, fighting between thoughts of a broken arm and this newer madness.

“Severus, don’t do this.”

“I?” Snape’s lips curled in a slow, dark smile, the gesture falling useless as it reached his eyes. “No, Igor. You are mistaken.” And he reached for phial in an upper pocket, and slicked himself cold and swift before laying his still-smooth palm to the hardness, the gauntness of Karkaroff’s arse, the hip and the clutch of it. “You do this,” said Snape, and he bowed over Karkaroff’s back, fingers dug tight in the skin of Karkaroff’s arm, nails rivaling the burn of the Mark, his own growing hot already from nearness, from friction. He laid mouth to Karkaroff’s ear and continued, rocking up hard against him, against crease, thrusting in about the whitish hairs, the emaciated slope: “You do this entirely to yourself. You let me in.”

And Karkaroff caught his breath, throat constricted, eyes shutting tight in open-mouthed silence, a desperately unheard cry, as Snape laid himself thick inside, cock fuller now when put to the test against withered frame and tight, unfamiliar yield of flesh. Snape exhaled low, his hand not relenting on Karkaroff’s twisted arm, his abdomen against the small of Karkaroff’s back and pressing firm against it. And then Karkaroff did not struggle, did not seek to throw Snape off, because now he understood the truth of it, at least in part, and so Snape, eyes shut, sloping nose to the back of Karkaroff’s grizzled hair, fucked him long, and hard, and silent, balls slapping against the taut of older thighs, breaths and torsos sliding a paper rustle across the desk. A clock ticked slow and unobtrusive, faint in the far-ground, and Snape came in tableau, in a sharp exhale and a shuttered gaze, breath burning to the tendrils of hair at the back of Karkaroff’s neck.

He let go of Karkaroff’s arm soon after. Both were sluggish from the blood-rush, and tired. Karkaroff rose quickly, dropping robes over semen-streaked crease, his own penis a small and less pressing matter now that their discussion had been concluded. He did not look Snape in the eye, and Snape turned to select texts for class from the far wall. That Karkaroff would run regardless was fact to the both of them now. Snape made no move to protest as Karkaroff, hand brooding to his twisted goatee, lurched at last for the door. It was enough, thought Snape later, that Karkaroff had to limp, just a little, in his retreat.
5 comments|post comment

<_< [21 Sep 2004|03:00pm]
Whew it's been a while. I'm not even going to begin to make excuses for my lack of posting -- no point, because it's in the past now. But I will say this much: it's really tough to get back into things. I've been writing a lot in the last three weeks, but I've posted none of it. This has led me to put OFF posting it all the more, because I'm afraid I'm going to start posting a couple, promise the rest later, and not follow through. Or I'm afraid if I post it all at once I'll get hate-mail from people for clogging their friends pages.

But one way or another it needs to get done; I really need to get caught up. So! I offer this warning/proposal: Over the course of Wednesday night/Thursday morning (Eastern Standard Time, mind), I'm going to post all the writing I've done in the last few weeks. I'll space it out a bit, but the main thing is that it'll get done and finished with, and in the middle of the night when I hope people will be more tolerant to that kind of mass posting, and then I'll be all caught up again and have no reluctance to post here. Because at present I do. Sucks, but there it is.

Anyway, that said, I'm giving the warning so you guys can choose to filter my journal out, or defriend me, or whatever, for that night if you don't want to be assailed by numerous posts. Hope that warning will be enough! Please don't flame me on Thursday!!

In the meantime, I've been a little out of the loop, but I'd LOVE to read your stories, so please, if you have a moment, please shamelessly offer recs or self-promote or whatever. I NEED FIC!!

Hugs and love to all. Hope you're well! And, remember, if you don't want to deal with all that crap on your friends page come Thursday, you have my blessing to cut me out of your friendslist for the next few days!
10 comments|post comment

queerditch_pub!!! [29 Aug 2004|12:26pm]
Just a quick reminder on my lj just because it may get better coverage here. Seeing as we've CHANGED OUR MEETING TIME FROM MONDAY TO SUNDAY, IN TWO DIFFERENT SESSIONS TO ENSURE AS MANY WRITERS AS POSSIBLE CAN ATTEND, the CHALLENGE PROMPT was issued earlier in the week than usual, so it may have escaped your notice (it certainly escaped mine for a bit!).

But I've checked the challenge page now and it seems attendance is pretty slim this week! We're starting the chat in TWO HOURS (2:30 EASTERN STANDARD TIME) so if you're participating in the afternoon round (the other one is at 8:30 EASTERN STANDARD TIME), please please please:

GO HERE NOW and post your challenge! Please, if everyone waits till the last minute, it makes it very difficult to organize the challenges into challenge sets on time.

And please remember, ONE challenge per person, per drabble time slot. So if you're going to be in both the afternoon and evening drabble groups, you can post two challenges, but if you're only in one, ONLY ONE CHALLENGE. So go now, please, and post your challenges!

Whew. Well, this was to be expected, really. Change can be tough, so I know this week's drabble session is going to involve working out a lot of bugs, but hang in guys! We're doing out best, and we know you are too. :D Happy ficcing! I have to do some moving now, and hopefully I'll be back online in time! Hugs and love!
4 comments|post comment

Blue's "Fortnight" Fics - Remus/Harry, angst ok, but happy(?) ending, for supergrover24 [28 Aug 2004|09:27am]
Bah. Stomach aches beginning anew. So not looking forward to work, but lo, to work I must go in half an hour. In the meantime, here's the second of the fics for the day. When I get back, Severus/Karkaroff x 2! You know you want it. o_o

"Fortnight" Fics - Remus/Harry, for supergrover24
Title: Sunrise Next
Pairing: Remus/Harry
Warnings: A lil' angst, some boy loving. Nothing to write home about.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: JKR's, not mine!
Word Count: 1000
Sunrise NextCollapse )
5 comments|post comment

Blue's "Fortnight" Fics - Filch/Norris (gen!) for karenhealey [28 Aug 2004|07:19am]
This was an interesting challenge. Not so much a Filch/Norris as it is an exploration of Filch's childhood, but I hope it will suffice!

"Fortnight" Fics - Filch/Norris (Gen) for karenhealey
Title: Lost and Foundlings
Warning: Child abuse (in general terms)
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: JKR owns them, not I.
Word Count: 1000

Lost and FoundlingsCollapse )
1 comment|post comment

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