The Black Pot

Cesare flexes his fingers against the window frame. It's stuck. He wants to open it, badly, wants to cool his head, his knuckles, his brow, he wants to breathe the storm.

He feels looming, lumbering, after being a teenager for so long. He feels stronger, yes, but then... when he was young, he was light. Everything about him was light, and fast.

His head throbs terribly now. He remembers crying into Xellos's lap.

"Miquel," he whispers. "Buonasera. Will you not talk to me, caro?"

Why should I not talk to you?

"Perhaps you liked the other better?"

The other. Miquel snorts softly. You, you mean.

"Forse, sí. Non lo so. Parli di me? Di me?"

Why these doubts, Cesare?

Because. Cesare bites his lips. "Because the other one did not hurt you?"

Stolen from onikins. You Are the Queen

You are an incredibly powerful person, and at times, it's hard for you to keep your power in check. You can take down virtually anyone who's standing in your way. That doesn't mean you should though! When you're at your best, you're playing both offensively and defensively. You are able to look into the future and plan accordingly. Because you are so powerful, you are a natural target. You must remember to protect yourself, even if it means hanging back when you want to pounce.

Gren puts his pack down on the bed and kicks off his shoes. He leaves the door to his room open, expecting word of his return to reach the owner of the hotel quickly. She'll most certainly want to speak with him.

He hadn't meant to disappear, it was just something that had happened. He'd long been a stray cat anyway, so the idea that people might wonder where he'd got off to didn't really cross his mind until some time in the second week, when he realized he missed playing for the people in Margate.

And it wasn't that he'd gone far, he'd just gone...about. Needed to clear his head and escape attention. Not that he'd had much, but it had still been more than he was used to. It's hard to keep yourself held back when there are so many genuinely nice people asking genuinely interested questions. So he'd wandered, and he'd thought, and he'd written a little. And then he realized he missed them and returned to his new home.

Gren threw up the window and let the breeze dance in the curtains before beginning to unpack. There were certainly worse places to return to.

And because I never posted to my personal journal, here's my Daily_Deviant fic from September!

Title: "Full"
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Enemas, much swearing and insulting of vicars
Summary: “Because I want to,” Remus informed him in a low pitch that sent gooseflesh rippling up Sirius' spine. “Because I want to see just how much you can fucking take before you start begging me to stop. Because I want you to feel just what it would be like to have every inch of your arse straining and stretched until it's indistinguishable from your intestines and all you know and all you are is full.”
Author's notes: I think I need to change my username to "nooneelse" so when these particular themes come up everyone will know that "nooneelse" will right them. :P Written for iJ's alisanne after I promised her something fluffy in the wake of July's necro fic!

Fake cut to Daily_Deviant!

"Full"

November's Daily_Deviant fic... I wrote the alternate pairing this month. For some reason no one wants to write Morfin Gaunt. :P

Title: "Alternatives"
Characters: Morfin Gaunt/Quirrell, Voldemort/Quirrell
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Non-con, Morfin Gaunt, Squickiness, slight crackiness? (Did you see the pairings?) castrati
Word Count: 1520
Summary: Quirrell lays in his bed at night, fidgeting. He used to sleep well, find comfort on his back in the softness of down blankets and the firmness of a good pillow and equally supportive mattress. But now he lays awake for hours, unable to deal with his own bony elbow poking into the side he has to lay on or to adjust to the soft pillow he must use now.
Author's notes: I'm sorry. Where was I supposed to go with this pairing? I mean, really? I think writing Morfin Gaunt in a fluffy romance would be far more terrifying than having him in a darker fic. Right? Right? :P

Fake Cut to Daily_Deviant!

"Alternatives"

I have so many shiny new obsessions. I'm going to die waiting for the 34227 comic book movies coming out over the next few years.

Yay for evil twins that make my Joker extra shiny and who writes Batman/Joker over here: The Frayed Ends. :D

The Looking Glass
Batman Begins. Joker/Crane. NC-17. ~2000 words. Breathplay.
Joker fit his fingers one by one to Jonathan's throat.

( Read me. )

I think I need to apologise in advance to my readers for what I'm about to do in my Daily_Deviant fic.

So, I'm sorry.

The fic will be posted in a bit at (Insane Journal's) Daily_Deviant and I'll provide links here.

Dear god, I KNOW. Face meets palm.

In the Upright Position
Iron Man/Transformers. Tony/Starscream. PG (for metaphorical sexin). ~800 words. For round nine of IJ's porn_battle.
"I believe that was a challenge, sir."

( Read me. )

Nothing. My memory is long.

[Private] Yet not so long that I can now recall the feel of sunlight streaming in through glass windows on a crisp autumn day, warming my flesh as I sat reading or composing my correspondences.

Or the delight of enjoying a fire, watching and listening to the embers glow and crack in the grate. These nights, such noises would engender panic and no small amount of fear should one of the embers burst free from the prison of the grate.

Or the warmth of living flesh touching mine in the night. Of listening to hearts beating and knowing that one of them is mine, or feeling how quickly my blood was pulsing through my veins when all my senses and emotions were excited and aroused.

I have not forgotten life. I simply cannot recall how it felt to be alive.

It is subtle, this distinction, but a cold comfort. [/Private]

I have forgotten nothing.

She felt as if she'd slept-in a bit later than usual, but realised that she was being a bit fanciful. It was just having her sleep broken during the daylight hours, but it had been worth everything. At least now, she could be able to arrange for a trip down to Ancona with the knowledge that it was something that they both were looking forward to, and not an effort on her part to salve her conscience.

Again, it seemed as if the house was quiet... no, no, a brow rose in amusement and a smile quirked her lips, the strains of Hot Stuff were coming from down the hall. She was going to have to speak with an architect about converting one of the older and now unused rooms into a discothèque. But first, she had a holiday to book.

Isabel wondered briefly where Roberto was, hoping to question him about his earlier task, but quickly headed for her office instead. She had the terrible feeling that if she saw him, he'd say something unpleasant, such as "Giancarlo and Primo are still scheduled to dine here with us tonight."

There was going to be nothing unpleasant to disturb her until after these arrangements were made.

Tony really does look good on everybody.

A Trained Professional
Marvel movieverse (Iron Man, X-Men). Logan/Tony. NC-17. ~4700 words. For 'virginity/celibacy' on my kink_bingo card. (As I type this, I die laughing. Die.)
If they'd been in the field, Tony might've been worried.

( Read me. )

Originally posted at Dreamwidth here. Please comment there using OpenID or ask me for an invite code. :3

Title: A Pale Horse
Rating: R
Warnings: Infidelity, mature – and very sad - subject
Genre(s): Angst
Word Count: 5,786
Summary: All it takes is one time. One single time, which you may hardly even remember, but which will nonetheless change your life forever.
Prompt: Life/Strength (Color Red) for the 2009 rs_games, here
A/N: Non-magical AU. Title and quotation taken from Randy Shilts's And the Band Played On.

And a million thanks to my beta, Minnow.

A Pale Horse

I swear, I'm not dead. Really.

I'm here! It's just been really crazy. For anyone who is lucky enough not to be in education in CA, the state budget has totally fucked with the university resulting in people having contracts/employment ripped out from under them at the last minute. I was one of the lucky few who was rehired for this fall quarter after being unemployed during the summer. Of course none of us will have jobs in winter quarter so.. um... life sucks ass in a bad way.

I have a couple fics I've not yet linked here but I have been staying on top of my Daily_Deviant stuff and am now revving up for both hp_april_fools and for July's Infinitus in Orlando. And I'll get some recent student quotes up here eventually!

How is everyone else? *smooches everyone!*

The storm continues to rage outside, some would see it as a miracle considering the firestorm that is raging across Los Angeles. I can see the oily orange glow of destruction rising over the besieged city through the curtains of rain the Pacific has blown over us as a buffer.

It is almost beautiful.

I see the spirits in each lightning strike. Unfamiliar faces that scream for release and revenge; sad, bewildered faces that cannot accept that the 'afterlife' is so greatly different from what the priests have promised.

It is a great irony that the touch of Frost has burnt so many.

The rain, the gift of water, I feel is no manifestation of the spirit storm. Rather I feel it is a gift from our young guest this night. I long to discuss with her the form her later education took, for it puts me in mind of my mother and grandmother... and their Mother before them. But not now, the time is not right. Such a conversation will belong to a gentler night when fire and Frost do not seek to consume all in their path.

In the thunder, there I hear my own anger and disappointment of my plans being thwarted. I have gotten so close to achieving my goal only to have it dashed from my hands by a power-hungry madman. What is it that the old hippy's song advises?

Don't let it bring you down, it's only cities burning.

Bullet points are AWESOME.

- Yuletide assignment has arrived! This is very, very exciting. Most fandoms I signed up for this year are ones I've never written in before, so this excitement will turn to gnashing of teeth shortly, but in all honesty, I kinda enjoy that, too. Har.

- My days of monofandom are so over. This isn't even news or much of a realisation, I know. Comic books are eating me alive and I'm ready to write porn for things that haven't even been released yet.

- Writing original stuff is fun hard full of self-abusive joy. I've finally learned how to create characters for short stories. Today, mobsters, tomorrow, mercenaries.

- I'm watching way too many movies these days. And by too many movies, I mean not enough. If anyone has an recs, feel free to toss them my way. I'm not feeling genre-specific, either, though I don't enjoy slashers-for-the-sake-of-slashing. Yesterday, I watched Batman Begins before Breakfast on Pluto. I'm pretty sure that defines diverse (and a shiny obsession with Cillian Murphy). If only my Disco Pigs download would hurry up and download.

- I am hungry.

- Shit, I need to write my Dear Santa letter for Yuletide. D:

Originally posted at Dreamwidth here. Please comment there using OpenID or ask me for an invite code. :3