Morphine's House of Holy Shit and Hand Grenades

Incase of fire, break the glass.

Mon, 05 Oct 2009 20:47:09 GMT

I HAS A WORDS!

I'm doing this for funsies, but if you wanna keep it rolling go for it.

1- Porn [lol]
2- Fuck [the word not the action lol]
3- North Carolina
4- Gay Husband
5- Hair

1. Porn

        I SURE DO WRITE A LOT OF IT! I also read a lot of it. And love every single moment of it. Porn has been an integral part of my life since I was about 13-you know, the teen boy syndrome-and not just glossy magazines and scrambled channels, but writing and reading the stuff. I'd probably kill myself if any of my old work got out because it was FUCKING AWFUL. I'll never stop though. I thought it was just a phase when I started, but that was seven years ago and I'm still kickin'. Some of the stuff I write is still absolute shit but I've come a long way and I do have a few gems amongst the bullshit. As for real porn, back to the glossy magazines and scrambeled channels, I don't have as much of it as I used to, for which I'm kinda glad because mom and I already have enough awkward shit to talk about without her finding my playboys.

2. Fuck [word]

      Quite obviously this is my favorite word. It works in any fucking situation, in any fucking capacity, and just by it's use someone can gauge exactly how you're feeling. Show me what other words do that every single time? Not to mention, it's just a fuckin' fun swear! Eclipsed only by the C word ('cunt', for those of you who don't get letters and are staring at the screen going "What does cancer have to do with it? Nyrrrrr"), 'fuck' is one of the motherload words, one of the ones that us 90s kids got the belt for blurting out in front of gradma after she handed you the ugliest scarf at the department store when you knew she had the money for a new Sega Dreamcast game.

3. North Carolina

     Where to fucking start? (See? Use of 'fuck' to portray disgust. Damn that word is fucking awesome) North Carolina has been the bane of my fucking existance since I was a little, little kid. I've been stuck in the same Goddamn place for way too long, and the people here are all fucking ignorant angry stupid hicks. Or at least, the ones who are born, bread, and never getting out. I've met a few good ones, but they all either came from the North, or have been around the world. Fuck this place with the highest authority of 'fuck'. Things are so backassward, and yeah, I know, you're sitting there going, "But Dev, there are worse places not even around the world but right here in the US that are worse!" and you can fucking save that speach because what's going on elsewhere doesn't fucking effect me directly the way this shit does. I draw the line at being called a useless dyke by a pregnant 14 year old high school drop out.

4. Gay Husband

    My Gay Hubby, my sweetheart, one of the great loves of my life behind Tarantino, the IKs, and good cigarettes. I've known him since about the seventh grade, even though we met in fourth (neither of us can really remember it too well and PICS or it didn't happen). When he was pretending to be straight, I was the only girl he didn't try to go out with because hey, when you're that deep in the closet you learn to recognize your own. Then he pseudo-came out, and I completely came out, and we did everything together. Mall, movies, prom-hell, he was just hanging out with me at home for a while. He is really one of my best friends and I love him more than words can really describe. Even if he is a big gay bitch sometimes.

5. Hair [Not the play]

    I have a love/hate relationship with hair. Most of the time I'm okay with mine. It's short as all hell and right now it needs to be cut, but most of the time it'll behave now that I cut it. See, I used to have it down to my ass, nearly to my thighs at one point. That was cool, it was fun and all, but I also have a very hot tempratured body and in the summer I fucking died because I'm stuck in the motherfucking humid as shit hot as hell south. So after having my hair long as hell for years, I went in, and told them to chop that shit off. All of it. Now it's about shoulder length at all times. Again. I need a cut right fucking now. The thing I love about my hair though, is that it's always been straight. Perfectly. I don't have to do anything to it, I don't even have to blow dry it. It does basically whatever I want it to. Yes, you can all hate me now. I have the perfect hair.

Fic: Inglourious Basterds; It Wasn't Pride You Swallowed, R

Fri, 25 Sep 2009 08:58:05 GMT

Title: It Wasn't Pride You Swallowed
Author: morphinelovexx
Pairing/Characters: Wilhelm Wicki/Donny Donowitz (YEAH, YOU READ THAT RIGHT)
Rating: R for a blow job and abuse of German
Word count: 439 short and sweet
Summary: When they'd kissed, Wicki attacked Donny's mouth like he was starving, pushing and shoving him until they were exactly where Wicki wanted.
Disclaimer: I don't own a fucking thing and it kills me inside to admit it every time.
Notes: If I knew what inspired this, I'd lock it in a cage and use it like a cheap third world hooker. Oh, don't give me that look, this is Tarantino, I can use colorful metaphors. I'll place the blame on the shoulders of the IKs and the Chat, and thank napalmiris for the amazing beta job she did on this. I owe her my soul and my testicles, which she'll take as soon as she stops pointing her walther at them. By the by, I used Google translations for the little German I have in here, so for the love of God please don't hurt me for what I'm sure is a piss poor translation.

The first time he was forced to his knees and throat fucked by Wilhelm Wicki, Donny came in his pants.

He hadn't been expecting Wicki to be so demanding, so rough. Never in a million years did he think Wicki would be vocal. When they'd kissed, Wicki attacked Donny's mouth like he was starving, pushing and shoving him until they were exactly where Wicki wanted. It turned into a scuffle that Wicki proudly won (and Donny swore he fuckin' cheated because who palms your dick during combat and says they wanna fuck your mouth?). Donny was on the ground, blood smeared on his chin from a busted lip, patches of dirt and grime clinging to him, and Wicki was just so Goddamn superior that Donny couldn't help how hard he got.

With his mouth forced open and his hands tied behind his back with his own suspenders, Donny had looked up at Wicki with no small amount of anger, but pure undisguised lust right along side it. Wicki grabbed a good handful of Donny's hair and thrust into his mouth, showing no mercy and being damn loud about it. German mixing with English as he fucked Donny's obnoxious mouth, enjoying the sounds of choking and growls against his cock, all belied by the way Donny swallowed and clenched his fists.

“Ich lass dich rau und bettelnd zurück.” And fuck if that didn't get Donny thrusting against nothing because it didn't take a fucking linguist to know what it meant when a man grunted under his breath and forced himself down your throat. It was dirty and rough and it made Donny feel fucking alive. His teeth scraped and he swallowed hard and as it turns out, the word 'slut' sounds the same in every fucking language when a guy really means it. Wicki came, and he didn't let up until he was sure Donny swallowed every fucking drop.

Donny just jerked his head back and sneered in a cracked voice, “That the best you can fuckin' do?” and he swore that if Wicki hadn't just come he'd have been on his stomach and fucked bloody because the look on Wicki's face was murderous. He'd been jerked up by the throat and Wicki shoved a hand down his pants, and it all came to an abrupt halt. Wicki's wolfish smirk would linger in Donny's mind until the day he fuckin' died, he was sure of it, because no one had looked more smug when facing Donny Donowitz. “Nächstes mal werde ich sicherstellen, dass ich deine Schreie hören kann.”

As it turns out, you don't need a translation when someone speaks your fuckin' language.

Fic: Inglourious Basterds; Yellow Sun, R

Sun, 20 Sep 2009 03:59:31 GMT

Title: Yellow Sun
Author: morphinelovexx
Pairing/Characters: Aldo Raine/Donny Donowitz
Rating: R for teasing and language
Word count: 674
Summary: You're makin' me hungry.
Disclaimer: I don't own IB, Aldo, Donny, the Raconteurs, or even my own imagination anymore. For the love of GOD don't sue me.
Notes: I....I don't even fucking know. Just, enjoy it.

Donny had stalked off into the tunnel with his bat after presenting his scalps to Aldo, leaving the rest of them to round up the survivors. He was like a wild animal after the kill, keyed up and breathing heavy, on a rush from the sight of the blood and the screams of Nazi soldiers and maybe there's something a little wrong with him but none of the others seem to mind it much. Donny put his forehead to the wall of the tunnel, trying to cool off a little because they needed to know where those patrols were and if he was going to help he needed a clear head or there'd be nothing left to question.

A hand on his shoulder pulled Donny out of his revery and put him on edge, grip tightening on his bat to strike but when he was slammed against the wall and Aldo's voice growled in his ear, he lost his grip and dropped the bat. “Keep your fuckin' mouth shut, Donny. You ain't capable of quiet and I don't want none'a them boys hearin' this.” Donny just nodded, heart jackhammering in his chest as Aldo's hands roughly squeezed his shoulder and side, just against his ribcage. “Feel your heart. All hot 'n bothered just from firin' off a few rounds and cuttin' up their heads?” Aldo pressed flush against Donny, teeth catching the back of his neck and biting down like a wolf to keep him in place with the most primal urge taking them both.

Donny was scratching at the wall in his effort to keep silent, wanting to scream all manor of obscenities and encouragements so the whole fuckin' country side could hear him but he knew better. If he let out so much as a grunt Aldo would stop cold and back off and if those hands weren't on him rightfuckingnow Donny really was gonna scream. He kept silent just long enough for Aldo to grab his cock roughly through his pants, palming and stroking enough to work Donny into a frenzy, mouth back at his ear. “Scalpin' those pieces'a shit gets you harder than a teenage boy against a strong breeze, Donowitz.” Aldo bit down on Donny's ear, wringing a growl from him and squeezing Donny harder in retaliation.

Dragging his hand up, Aldo shoved down under Donny's waistband, gripping him tight and jerking him quick and dirty, enjoying the way it made Donny buck and viciously beat the wall to keep quiet. “Gonna let out out there on 'um. Take that big bat and fuckin' crush their skull in until the last dog pisses himself an' tells us what we need to know. You like, that Sergeant?” Donny's head fell back and he ground forward, his mouth open and working but no sounds coming out. Aldo gripped the throat working so desperately for air and squeezed. “Don't you dare fuckin' come, that's an order.” Growling, Donny thrust back against Aldo's crotch, taking a sick pleasure in the cock that answered his movement in kind.

“You listen here.” Aldo jerked him twice more and pulled his hand away, ignoring the frustrated hips that pumped in mid-air after the friction was gone, and the way Donny was panting through clenched teeth. Whipping Donny around, Aldo grabbed his face with the hand previously down his pants, letting him get a good nose full of his own musk, smearing the precome on his fingertips across Donny's bristled cheek. “Imma give that Fatherland fucker a chance. I want you listenin', scarin' him when it comes to it. And yeah, it'll come to it.” Aldo's grin was just on the edge of manic, and Donny mirrored it with teeth and eyes lust blown and down right insane. “Then you give us a good show.”

Donny surged forward and devoured Aldo's mouth, biting his lips and forcing his way inside, and Aldo allowed him the moment of dominance before pulling away. “Be ready. Don't fuckin' disappoint me.” Donny wiped his mouth and took a deep breath.

“Couldn't even dream of it, Sir.”

Inglourious Basterds fic; Where Dogs Lie, NC-17

Fri, 04 Sep 2009 07:40:28 GMT

Title: Where Dogs Lie
Author: morphinelovexx
Pairing/Characters: Aldo Raine/Donny Donowitz
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Spanking (I have never, ever had to put something like this before. O_o)
Word count: 1,468
Summary: On every inhale he tasted sweat and blood from his own wounds, and on the exhale he could see his own breath misting in the cold. It felt good. Just like beating the son of a bitch at his feet to death had felt.
Disclaimer: I swear I mean no harm whatsoever. I don't own this, I don't even come close to owning this, and I really hope Quentin doesn't bitchslap me for stepping into his territory.
Notes: I...have no excuses this time. This was all me in an awful, awful way. I did get something of an idea from this answer to a prompt on the kink meme. Mostly just the idea of Aldo beating someone with his belt. How that translated into this, I will never, ever know. Please, you guys, just don't lynch me. It'd leave an awesome scar but would be really awkward to explain later. Enjoy.

    There was something in the background, fuzzy and inaudible against the adrenaline pumping in his ears as he swung the bat down over and over against the fucker's body, striking the shoulder, the chest, the head, over and over again. His eyes were caught by the blood and the pain and then the lifelessness in the Nazi's eyes, grip so hard on the handle of the bat that he didn't know if his hands would ever uncurl again and that was just fine because he could do this for the rest of his life. On every inhale he tasted sweat and blood from his own wounds, and on the exhale he could see his own breath misting in the cold. It felt good. Just like beating the son of a bitch at his feet to death had felt. A hand on his shoulder and a scream in his ear knocked him out of his reverence.

    "DONOWITZ! Goddammit son, I told you we needed someone left alive! Now tell me, who is gonna answer our questions?" Donny turned to face his commanding officer, bat dropping to a relaxed position at his side. It took a second for his brain to catch up, and he looked around at the others for confirmation. There were several bodies around the cars, and the rest of the Basterds, just looking at the two of them with mild interest. Donny looked back to the man he'd just killed, blood splatter across his face, and counted in his head before frowning. Then he looked back at Aldo with a crooked smile. "Guess we gotta find more, Sir."

    The Basterds were camped out later, each engaged in some form of entertainment or another while Donny went to wash. If he could, he would've worn the blood on his face like his very own medal. They were passing through town tomorrow though, and as much as he wanted Germany to remember his face, the face that had beat and mangled and killed so many of it's soldiers, they had a cover story to at least attempt to stick to. Civilians.

    The water in the river was freezing, so Donny didn't bother getting in, just stripped to his shirt and scrubbed off what he could. It was half way through picking at a scab that he heard someone come up behind him. Moving slowly, Donny picked up his knife and then turned quickly, holding it up in a jerk that would've taken the throat of an unsuspecting enemy. Instead, Aldo grabbed his wrist with an understanding but amused snort. Donny relaxed instantly and dropped his arms to his sides.

    At any other time, Donny would make a comment, or a gesture, or anything to be considered smartassed because it made Aldo laugh, and that wasn't a sound Donny heard nearly enough. Something about Aldo's posture stopped him tonight, though. The man wasn't his comrade right now, he was his commanding officer, and on a guerrilla mission like theirs, it was a rare show. Oh, they referred to Aldo as their Lieutenant at all times, but more often than not he acted as though they were all on the same level.

    Aldo sighed and crossed his arms, looking Donny up and down before he started talking. "That was a good show today, Sergeant. But you disobeyed a direct order from me. I told you to stop and you kept right on swinging on that Nazi." Aldo paused, but Donny didn't look sorry. He wouldn't. Donny knew that wasn't what Aldo was getting to, or even looking for. Right now, he was just stating facts, which meant he was in one of his moods and Donny was going to have to stick it out and wait for him to get to the point. "Now I can't punish you like if we were proper military, because technically, we ain't. But we got a way of punishin' boys who have listenin' problems back home."

    Something shot up Donny's spine when Aldo started taking his belt off. The same sick thrill he got when his bat made first contact with skin and bone, a pure spark of adrenaline that started in the pit of his guts and spread wide until his chest was vibrating with the force of his heartbeat. The buckle came undone under Aldo's deft fingers and as he slid it from the loops around his waist, Donny could feel his straighten with the movement. He must've had a look on his face, because Aldo's lips quirked up in something that wasn't quite a grin.

    "Get up against that tree, face it. And don't open your mouth." Donny dropped his knife and moved like his joints were full of ice, the cold of the night and the anticipation filling him up. He put his hands against the bark and leaned out a little, bending his lower back. Donny could feel Aldo's eyes on his bare back, could hear his own blood pulsing in his ears and felt the warmth of his flushing face against the frigid air. "Pull 'um down, boy." Taking a deep breath and biting his lip, Donny pulled his pants down and exposed his ass before leaning back against the tree.

    For a long moment, the anticipation just crackled between them, the sounds of the men and the fire just out of eyeshot drifting on the wind. When Donny dared to start to turn his head back to Aldo, the man struck hard across his ass. The smack echoed but Donny didn't make a sound. In succession, three quick smacks landed in the exact same spot, and in defiance, Donny forced the noise in his throat down, holding on tight to the tree trunk. He focused on a spot on the bark to try and take his mind out of it, but Aldo kept swinging. The strikes were precise, but not always in the same place.

    Finally, after a second stroke hit the small of his back, Donny cried out. He bit his tongue and the lashing stopped, his entire back end radiating heat. Panting, he chanced a look back at Aldo. The man stood there with a hunger in his eyes that belied the act of punishment, staring at Donny's probably hot pink skin, where bruises would color in and make sitting an awkward but not entirely painful affair. Their eyes met and Donny licked his lips, turning around to expose the effect the encounter had on him.

    In a second, Aldo was on Donny, shoving him up against the tree and attacking his lips with a ferocity the younger man returned tenfold. He jerked Donny hard and quick and dirty, hand as cold as the river and the contrast against his cock nearly made Donny scream. Twisting and writhing, Donny bit Aldo's lip hard enough to break the skin and got a sharp slap to his tender ass for the effort, making him whimper and thrust into the other man's fist. It was over quick with the build up, slamming into Donny at a thousand miles an hour and taking him momentarily out of himself.

    When he came back, Donny was shoved to his knees and Aldo's pants were already around his calves, and he didn't even think about it, just opened his mouth and took in what he could. Aldo fucked his mouth because it was what they both wanted, something that would keep in time with the violence of the moment and their hammering hearts and would keep them on the adrenaline high for as long as possible because it was the next best thing to killing.

    He knew it was the same with Aldo, and no one else could understand it but Donny. The other Basterds were in it for their own reasons, for noble reasons, but Donny never deluded himself and he was positive Aldo didn't either. They were in it to kill, to ride the rush, and maybe die doing things that would be frowned on overseas but get them called heroes when done there.

    Aldo held the back of Donny's head and grunted, coming hard and tightening his hand in Donny's hair. Donny swallowed and kept sucking until he was shoved back. They didn't speak as they straighten their clothes, or as Donny searched for his shirt. Grabbing his knife off the ground, Donny smiled the same way he had earlier that day, crooked and almost boyish in pure joy as his pulse finally settled.

    Aldo chuckled and shook his head, slapping a hand on Donny's shoulder. "Crazy fuckin' bastard." They walked back to the camp, saying nothing of the looks Wicki and Ulmar passed them. Maybe they knew, maybe they suspected. Donny didn't care, because it didn't matter. Because no matter which it was, they still didn't understand.

Fic: I Wanna Take You for Granted - Jack/Tony, All Ratings

Tue, 01 Sep 2009 10:41:43 GMT

Title: I Wanna Take You for Granted
Author: morphinelovexx
Pairing/Characters: Jack/Tony, David Emerson, Carl Benton, Michelle Dessler (Almeida?)
Rating: From PG to NC-17
Word count: 1,697
Summary: 50sentences revolving around the relationship between Jack and Tony.
Disclaimer: I don't own 24, I don't own Kiefer, Carlos, Bobby, any of the other actors, or Matchbox 20, who's song 'Push' I stole the title from.
Notes: I used themeset Gamma from the 50sentences challenge and pretty much broke my own heart writing some of these. zoi_no_miko is the one who encouraged me to write them up, so you can go ahead and blame her for this mess. And napalmiris ships Jack/Carl but never gets any lovin', so I kinda wanted to rub that in her face a little with one of these. :D Enjoy!

#01 - Ring
    Tony is ripped between the ring around his finger and the man next to him in bed, unsure of which lie hurts the most.

#02 - Hero
    "Bauer? He's like Batman without the money." Tony never admits out loud that Batman was always his favorite hero.

#03 - Memory
    When he looks at him, Jack is reminded of himself as a young agent, and silently says a prayer in hopes that Tony will get out before it destroys him too.

#04 - Box
    It's a great picture, and she's never seen Jack smile like that before, so Michelle wonders why Tony keeps it in a box buried in their new closet like a secret.

#05 - Run
    If nothing else could be said about the new guy, Jack was impressed at the way Tony hit the ground running after falling into CTU.

#06 - Hurricane
    Jack thinks about how Tony tore through his life like a hurricane and left him little more than human wreckage in a hospital bed, knowing that he'd never take back a moment, or the shreds of his heart the man would always own.

#07 - Wings
    Men like them would never have wings and halos after the end, but they had comfort in one another and that was more than enough.

#08 - Cold
    "Jack...I'm sorry." Tony tries to put everything in his heart into that single word, but those blue eyes are still the coldest they've ever been.

#09 - Red
    All Jack can see is the red of the blood in his eyes but he keeps moving through CTU because he knows Tony fell behind a desk somewhere when the shooting started and he's gotta make sure he's okay.

#10 - Drink
    They toss back a shot together, then take a long pull of ice cold beer; it's been a ritual of theirs since Nina played them both.

#11 - Midnight
    "Go home, Jack. You've seen enough midnights." Tony's palm is hot against Jack's shoulder and it takes everything in the older man not to grab the hand and pull him on his lap.

#12 - Temptation
    Before he watched Tony's full lips wrap around the butt of a cigarette and his eyes flutter shut with pure pleasure, Jack didn't understand the full meaning of the word 'temptation'.

#13 - View
    "I don't mind the view." Tony rolled his eyes and grabbed his jeans from the floor, throwing the balled up sock he found in the leg at Jack's grin.

#14 - Music
    He picks up the Abba CD and turns, expression between amusement and shock, then bursts out laughing when Jack makes a half-hearted attempt to pawn ownership off on his daughter.

#15 - Silk
    He didn't expect the first time they kissed to be smooth and soft, with Jack's thumb caressing his cheek and holding him still like he was afraid that at any second, Tony would come to his senses.

#16 - Cover
    Tony hated the idea of sending Jack to Mexico with no back up or protection, and when he came back track marked and a little more broken, all he could do was pray it was part of the cover.

#17 - Promise
    "You'll take care of him for me, won't you?" Michelle laughed and put her head on Jack's shoulder, missing the way he stared at her wedding ring.

#18 - Dream
    Jack jerks his head off the desk he'd passed out over, Tony's desperate moans still ringing in his ears.

#19 - Candle
    The power went out nearly six hours ago, and Jack can't stop himself from making a joke about their first dinner together being, appropriately, by candle light.

#20 - Talent
    Tony has a God-given talent for annoying the shit out of Jack by half-sitting on his desk; it was hard to concentrate when your pants were so tight they were nearly cutting off circulation.

#21 - Silence
    They stood together at Teri's grave, Tony still and silent as he wrapped an arm around a man who'd lost so much and gained so little, mourning the injustice in the world.

#22 - Journey
    They came too far and gave up too much of themselves to let it end without taking a lot of innocent people down with them, whether they wanted it or not.

#23 - Fire
    Too many times Tony had been burned, but damn if he wasn't willing to set the fire Jack promised with the light in his eyes and walk right into it.

#24 - Strength
    What Jack saw in Tony was the same thing Teri had sworn she'd seen in him, a kind of raw power and strength humming just under his skin, and it was impossible not to fall in love.

#25 - Mask
    Tony ripped the mask right off Jack's face and left him completely exposed, then walked away while he was writhing in pain on the ground and tried to steel himself against the breaking of a heart he thought had already shattered.

#26 - Ice
    No one saw Jack shove the ice cube down Tony's shirt and walk away smirking, but they all heard the resounding, "GODDAMMIT!" when Tony retaliated with a handful of ice chips down his pants.

#27 - Fall
    After he got out of prison, Tony fell through the cracks and resigned himself to misery, but when Jack offered his hand he felt the least he could do for the man was get back up again.

#28 - Forgotten
    As David's fingers worked him open and he whispered filthy things in his ear, Tony's memories of Jack were all but forgotten.

#29 - Dance
    It was a beautiful wedding and Jack's smile lit his face in a way Tony hadn't seen in a long time, so when he asked if he could cut in on their dance, it only felt natural for the groom to slip an arm around his waist and make his bride laugh.

#30 - Body
    Jack was scarred and mangled and couldn't take his shirt off without flinching, but he was still the most beautiful man Tony had ever seen.

#31 - Sacred
    With his lips and hands and tongue and teeth, Jack worshiped Tony like a God, and if that wasn't humbling then nothing was.

#32 - Farewells
    No one told Tony that Jack didn't survive until nearly a year after the fact-that the procedure didn't take and Kim was gone too-and it was like Michelle had died all over again, only this time, not saying goodbye was his own damn fault.

#33 - World
    There were places in the world where Jack had seen true suffering, and places he'd seen so much beauty it stopped his heart, but still the only time he found peace was when he was at Tony's side.

#34 - Formal
    Jack's tie was undone and his face was flushed, and as Tony shoved a hand down his pants all he could think of was how damn good the man looked in formal wear.

#35 - Fever
    "His fever is spiking, if we can't get it down his brain is going to melt!" Jack watched them rush around and in his head he begged and prayed and bartered with God for Tony's life.

#36 - Laugh
    Chloe jumped when Jack suddenly started cracking up from the other end of the break room, and she thought to herself that they couldn't have been more obvious if Tony pushed Jack against the counter and started kissing him right there.

#37 - Lies
    Jack smiled at Audrey even as his stomach flipped and he kissed her quickly, telling her he'd be back in a few days after he dealt with some old business at CTU and silently hoped that Tony wouldn't call for another few minutes.

#38 - Forever
    It was too good to last, going back to the old days when they worked side by side, and though Jack should've felt nothing but numb when they dragged Tony off kicking and screaming, he still wished it could've lasted forever.

#39 - Overwhelmed
    Tony's hand clenches in Jack's hair as the man thrusts into him, his head swimming with lust as he rides the edge of the most intense orgasm he's ever had.

#40 - Whisper
    They may have ended in a glorious hellstorm of screaming and bloodshed, but it only seemed appropriate for the relationship that began with Jack's simple whisper of, "Tony, please."

#41 - Wait
    "Ah, shit! Wait, Jack, wait. Here, give me that." Jack passed Tony the hair brush and watched him bite down on the handle, giving him a second to breathe before snapping the dislocated shoulder back into place.

#42 - Talk
    "Tony? Shut the fuck up." Jack put his hand in Tony's hair and didn't wait for a reply, jerking the man forward to swallow his sorely neglected cock.

#43 - Search
    Carl smiled and brushed his lips against Jack's, aching for more but knowing someone else already held that heart, so he left it at, "I hope you find what it is you're looking for, old friend."

#44 - Hope
    After four years of feeling like he was missing half of himself, after four hours of believing he'd been betrayed, Jack couldn't help the flicker of hope in his chest when he stood with Bill and Chloe and ohshitjesuschrist Tony.

#45 - Eclipse
    Jack held Tony in his arms and listened to his last gasps, trying to keep the tears in his eyes, swearing it felt like he'd never see the sun again.

#46 - Gravity
    It hit Tony full force when Michelle didn't ask for an explanation on where he'd been, just trusted him implicitly.

#47 - Highway
    Jack didn't know where they were going, he just hit the gas and kept heading on the highway far from California while Tony slept in the passengers seat.

#48 - Unknown
    "What the hell did they do to you?" Jack kept walking, and Tony knew that was as much of an answer as he was ever going to get regarding China.

#49 - Lock
    Licking his lips, Jack looked down at Tony's arms straining against the cuffs that kept him locked against the headboard and almost purred, "You're mine tonight, Tony."

#50 - Breathe
    He put pressure on the wound as blood spilled from Tony's neck and knew that everything would be okay if he could just fucking remember how to breathe.

Edit: I'd like to apologize for any typos anyone found-apparently there were a ton of them around here and there. Now everyone knows why I stopped posting at six in the morning :D

Fic: Ingorlious Basterds - Cut of the Cloth, PG

Mon, 31 Aug 2009 23:48:46 GMT

Title: Cut of the Cloth
Author: morphinelovexx
Pairing/Characters: Landa, Aldo, Hermann (who I tried to rename, but Napalm was having none of it.)
Rating: PG
Word count: 190 (I know, dick move posting a drabble, but it wasn't really my choice to post it. -looks uneasily at the gun Napalm has at her head-)
Summary: Landa admires Aldo's strength as a man and a soldier.
Disclaimer: Oh, God, Mr. Tarantino, please please please don't slap me around for playing in your sandbox, I'm just a humble fan doing what they can to get by.
Notes: I guess this can be counted as slash, if you want to see it that way. I know I do. If you don't, then meh, your loss. Just because I had to post this drabble, I promise I'll write something substantial to make up for it later. I just wanna see the movie again before I attempt anything, y'know, long. Guest work by napalmiris, who kicked it off because she's my homie and therefore awesomesauce (Translation: Napalm wrote the first two sentences and it was so awesome I had to use it and build around it.)

The single object had killed countless Nazis - scraped the skin from their heads, the pride from their corpses. And it belonged to one man - Aldo the Apache. A man who understood the true glory of battle for what it was, and hid behind no title of duty or honor or bravery but rather donned the label 'killer' with a straight spine and his head held high.

Landa looked it up and down, tip to handle, admiring. The knife was well taken care of, sharpened to perfection and cleaned almost obsessively. There was something to be said about a man who cared for his weapon as one would a lover. It was a time of war, and still the spirit of battle was a rare find. He ran gloved fingers along the blade in a caress, ignoring Hermann's curious glances in favor of the precious, glinting metal that had entranced him.

In roaring armies of cowards, Landa had found a true soldier who brandished a worthy weapon and was unafraid to use it. When they got out of the car, he slid the knife into his coat.

Its weight felt like vindication.

Fic: After the Day - Jack/Tony, NC-17

Fri, 14 Aug 2009 08:26:55 GMT

Title: After the Day
Author: morphinelovexx
Pairing/Characters: Jack/Tony
Rating: NC-17 (Finally!)
Word count: 535
Summary: In a hotel room, being loaned out, Jack and Tony have a privet holiday.
Disclaimer: I am so damn angry right now that I don't think I want it.
Notes: Don't let the fluff fool you. I just finished season seven and I'm so angry and angst ridden and pissed that I'm pretty sure my head is either going to explode or I'm going to kill someone. WHY? WHY, GOD, WHY? That being said, I bring you shameless fluff/porn. I...I'm not sure where this came from. Seriously. By all accounts, this should've been painful and sad and awful. What came out? -vague hand gesture- I guess I just did a total 180, I was so damn mad. Anyway, I'd like to thank napalmiris for being an awesome beta yet again, and putting up with my shit like a saint. I'd also like to dedicate this to zoi_no_miko, to whom I swore the next thing I posted would break the PG-13 bar! XD

His eyes are shut and his legs are shaking as Tony rides Jack hard, reveling in the moans of the man below him and the sofuckinggood burn he knows he'll feel for days to come. They're both exhausted but so caught in the intoxication of lust that they could've easily been twenty years younger. Jack's hands are on his hips, not really guiding so much as just desperate for something to hold on to. Tony's movements become more erratic as he feels his orgasm building, his mouth open in a silent cry as he bucks and comes, dragging Jack over the edge with him.

For a long, long moment, both men just hold the feeling, neither of them moving or speaking. Finally, Tony shifts and winces, carefully pulling away from Jack so he doesn't hurt either of them. He has just enough grace to fall to the side instead of collapsing on Jack, who eyes him with a sleepy smile. Tony opens his eyes again and surveys his work.

Jack looks completely fucked out. His hair is a mess, sticking up at awkward angles from where Tony had grabbed him earlier, the sweat sticking it in place. His lips are bruised and swollen, and had he not already come twice, Tony might've gotten it up again remembering how they looked wrapped around his cock. It's childish, but knowing he'd left his mark on Jack gives Tony a small feeling of pride. Luckily, the bruise Tony left in the hollow of Jack's neck would be easily covered by a collar, but both men knew it was there, and that would be enough.

For his part, Jack looks sated. Tired, but sated. He smiles at Tony, and reaches over to pull Tony in by the back of the neck, kissing him. It's nothing like the kisses they shared when they first came together, hard and hot and full of tension; this kiss is a slow and sensual, giving them time to explore and taste and savor. Jack's tongue is gentle and sweet compared to the things Tony felt it doing earlier, and for a moment he really wishes he had the strength to go again. With a soft sound, Jack pulls away and his smile infects Tony this time.

"Say what you want about outsourcing, but this was a great idea." Jack laughs and pulls himself away from the bed, hissing when his bare feet touch the floor. He didn't bother with boxers, and wanders into the bathroom with an absent scratch at his sticky abdomen. Tony just stays on the bed, positive that any attempts at moving will be futile.

After a minute or two, Jack comes back with a wet washcloth and tosses it to Tony, who cleans up the best he can and gives it back with a small smile. Jack just tosses it through the open door of the bathroom and climbs back into the bed, pulling the mussed blankets up around them. For a moment, Jack just lies there and sighs, radiating contentment in a way Tony's never seen before.

As odd as it is to see him so relaxed, it's a sight Tony thinks he might be able to get used to.

Fic: Collapse - Jack/Tony, PG-13

Wed, 12 Aug 2009 22:02:58 GMT

Title: Collapse
Author: morphinelovexx
Pairing/Characters: Jack/Tony
Rating: PG-13 (DAMMIT!)
Word count: 1,250
Summary: At his most detached, Tony watched his life fall apart from the outside, and yet, he still couldn't detach himself from one man.
Disclaimer: I haven't gotten around to buying FOX yet-I promise, you'll know when it happens-but I do own a laptop and determination, so there's that.
Notes: Fun stuff lies this way. Most of the slash is just implied, so it's never directly stated but I'm being about as subtle as the damn show here, so I hope that you can find it in your hearts to forgive me. This is more an introspective piece on Tony than anything else, but I'm rather taken with the way I wrote it, so I hope you all enjoy it. As always, napalmiris was my beta and one of the most wonderful, supportive people in the whole entire world.

It was fucked up to think that after seven months in prison, the worst isolation Tony had ever felt was lying in bed next to his beautiful wife. Wrapped in layers of guilt and disgust, he stared at the ceiling, annoyed by her soft breathing and her sound slumber.

She has her husband back, why shouldn't she sleep well? The thought was uncharitable at best, and what was worse was the fact that Tony could literally taste the anger in the back of his throat. Kicking the blankets off with no small amount of frustration, Tony slipped out of bed and padded out to the kitchen. The alcohol wouldn't burn away the months he'd spent locked up, but it washed out the bitter remnants of thoughts he'd had too much time to examine.

Thoughts about Michelle and their marriage and Jack Bauer. Oh, Jack was a favorite topic of Tony's resentful reflections; a man so unbreakable in his faith in the basic good in people-despite evidence to the contrary he faced nearly constantly in his own life. Tony stopped believing in people a long time ago. Long before the people he'd helped save threw him to the wolves.

Pouring himself another shot, Tony shut his eyes tight. He refused to go down that road again. Jack and regret were synonymous in his mind, and he didn't have the strength for it anymore. So Tony stayed in the kitchen, tipping back shot after shot before finally giving up on the glass and just drinking straight from the bottle.

Tony can't read the clock by the time Michelle is standing in the kitchen doorway, but he knows it must be late because she doesn't look happy. Her glare is focused on the bottle of Jack Daniels, making Tony just curl his shoulders tighter and lean closer into it. Most of their fights had boiled down to his drinking, Michelle's argument being that he should talk to her more and his own being that she couldn't understand. Like an old dance they started right into the cycle, only the hard liquor brought out the screaming much quicker than normal.

In an inappropriate way, it reminded Tony of why he loved Michelle. She didn't cry when she saw him drinking, she got pissed. In her own way, she would beg him to stop with hard realities and harder eyes.

"You have no right to stand there and judge me, so wipe that Goddamn self-righteous look off your face. I did what I did to protect you, and they fucking crucified me for it." Michelle put her hands on her hips. "Who is 'they', Tony? I don't think you even know what you're angry about anymore! You just want an excuse to wallow in your own damn misery." Her words cut Tony down to the core, only because they had an edge of truth to them that he'd rather not think about. "You act like you're the only one who's ever suffered an injustice." Michelle's voice softened, and Tony tensed because of it. "It's over now, Tony. We can live our lives."

Michelle crossed the room and got on her knees, wrapping her hands around Tony's arm. She looked up at him with a weak smile that was as close to breaking as she got and it was all he could do not to lean down and kiss her. The thought, for some reason, enraged him. He should kiss her, he shouldn't feel guilty about it. She was his wife, for fucks sake.

"You don't get it, Michelle. It's all of it! It's everything! It's being locked up, it's being screwed over, it's the attacks and the bullshit!" Tony, well aware that he was yelling at this point, never had a chance of stopping, and the words were out before he realized it. "It's losing Jack!" He could only watch with wary, tired eyes as his wife reared back like she'd been slapped, his jaw slack from the confession.

For a few long moments, everything was just silent. Michelle looked confused and hurt, and Tony couldn't take his eyes off her. His grip on the bottle tightened, as though bracing him for whatever came next.

"Losing Jack?" Two words that might as well have been razor blades as Michelle leaned back and sat on her heels, looking up at Tony with an unreadable expression. "What did you lose with Jack?" It looked like she didn't want an answer, but Tony was just drunk enough not to care as he looked at the nearly empty bottle in his hand.

"Everything."

Three days after that night in the kitchen, Michelle moved out. Tony shoved himself so deep in a bottle that he didn't count on seeing the sun again. He met women in bars he had no intention of even giving a real name to, fucking his way through half of Los Angels to try and get the images of rough hands and passionate blue eyes out of his head. When that got to be too much, Tony invited one of them to live with him. Jen. She wasn't nice, but they worked well together and the sex was decent.

For a while, the routine worked. Tony never pretended it was the life he wanted, and neither did Jen. In that they found common ground and that was what made it somewhat stable.

It was when he got the call that everything fell to shit again. When he heard the real fear in Jack's voice, Tony went to him without hesitation. He killed two men with barely a thought, his focus solely on Jack. The warmth he saw when his eyes met Jack's brought something to life in Tony. It clawed its way to his heart and hooked in, refusing to let go. In the car, the feeling was pushed to the back to make room for Tony's anger at himself for falling right back into his old life.

He barely spared Jack a glance, didn't bother asking about the relationship between him and Audrey Raines because Tony had seen that tender look in Jack's eyes before. The one that broadcasted how taken with the simple innocence of a woman Jack was. He was sarcastic and dry, attempting to push the very idea of his involvement out of Jack's mind before it took root.

Tony had almost managed to convince himself that nothing had changed. He kept his eyes glued to the soccer game on TV, washing the past away with cold beer and a single minded focus, but Jack flat out refused to cooperate. He turned off the TV and sat on the coffee table in front of Tony, his face determined. It started as the same fight Tony had with Michelle a thousand times before she left, but when Jack asked why he didn't call, something about it changed. It was like he could see right through Tony, and it drug the truth from him. "All you do is remind me of a past I’m trying to forget."

Pain almost radiated from Jack's entire body, the emotion so strong that there was no way Tony could miss it. With one last defeated look and an affirmation that made him seem so much smaller than Tony was used to, Jack turned the TV back on and walked away.

Bitter and less numb than he wanted to be, Tony stared into his mug, still as stone on the outside.

Inside, he collapsed like a house of cards.

Fic: Common Law - Jack/Tony, PG-13

Sun, 09 Aug 2009 12:47:37 GMT

Title: Common Law
Author: morphinelovexx
Pairing/Characters: Jack/Tony
Rating: PG-13 (still struggling for that R rating)
Word count: 875
Summary: A series of vignettes based on Day Seven, hours eight through twelve.
Disclaimer: I don't own shit.
Notes: I have no idea what prompted this, but I'm gonna go a head and blame it on the wonderful, amazing, USTlicious acting of Kiefer Sutherland and Carlos Bernard. Seriously, if the tension between them gets any thicker we're jumping from subtext to surtext. I feel the need to warn however that I'm only on hour four of Day Seven, so if any comments are posted I'd like to ask that they're kept free from spoilers 'cos I'm spoilerholic with like, six hours on the wagon. Thanks guys. napalmiris as usual was my guiding light and the best Beta ever, so props to her. I'd also like to dedicate this to every other fan who came to the game late like myself and had to mainline seven Goddamn seasons of this show. When you start asking your mates what is and isn't 'priority', you're in trouble.

    Tony was . . . Tony was a traitor. Tony was a terrorist. Tony was alive.

    Jack didn't believe it, couldn't believe it, even when they showed him the picture. The same thing had been done to him; he'd been set up for a fall. Even if Tony was alive, there was no way he'd be a terrorist.

    Jack knew it in his heart.

    Then, there was a near miss at the airport. Then, a man escaped from a building that was completely surrounded.

    Then, the only thing Jack knew in his heart was that it was breaking.

    So Jack took Renee and tracked Tony down.

    ___________


    The two-way mirror between them might as well have not exist for all the good it’s doing. Tony is reflecting Jack's glare, like he can just sense exactly where Jack is standing, exactly where his eyes would be. They’re both soldiers, and they’ve both been betrayed by the government they spent their lives protecting. It’s hard, to know exactly what Tony feels and yet know nothing about the livid, hateful eyes burning straight through him.

    Without blinking, without straying once, Jack listens to the conspiratorial tones behind him. He needs to understand. He needs to know before it rips him open and devours him.

    Adrenaline slams his heart against his ribs and Jack tells them he can make Tony talk. When he goes in the air is thick and tense, and the stifling heat is worse than Africa, than China. He's pretty sure it's all psychological, but acknowledging it doesn't make it go away.

    Their every word is laced with venom and hurt and all the while, the air keeps getting thicker with everything they're not saying. Tony's words are saying one thing, but his eyes are screaming a different story, and Jack can't decide which to believe. The room is filled with their tension and Tony just keeps digging and refusing to take a break, laying right into Jack where he knows it'll hurt most until finally, Jack snaps. He tosses the table from between them and picks Tony up by his neck - the neck Jack used to press his lips against - and slams him against a wall.

    In those few seconds Jack has him by the throat, can feel his heart pounding and hear his breath rasping, he truly thinks maybe he'll make sure Tony dies this time. Jack watches Tony's eyes flutter and roll back, feels his body squirm against him.

Then, words. Straining to hear over the thunder of his blood rushing in his own ears, Jack leans closer. Close enough to taste what little air Tony can expel. Two words, and everything goes completely silent.

    Deep sky.

    An old CTU code.

    It's only when Jack hears Bill's voice that the world starts up again.

    ___________

    Neither of them have the time to spare, but they can't ignore what needs to be said. The parking garage is as secluded as they're gonna get for the moment and Jack takes the opportunity while he knows they won't be seen.

    Shoving Tony against the silver car, Jack grabs his wrists and pins them against the roof. "Years, Tony. Years. You were alive. Do you have any idea what it was like to think...my...my brother..." Tony wouldn't meet Jack's eyes. He knew that when their paths crossed again - and they would, there was no doubt about that - he'd have to deal with the betrayal in those eyes, and he thought he'd be okay with that. He had hated Jack, for a very long time. Hated him for letting Michelle die, for dragging Tony along through the turmoil, for not really being able to hate him because they both knew all too well that it was the nature of the beast.

    Tony's voice was soft when he finally spoke. "I never wanted to see you again. Because I didn't want you to know I slipped. Believe me, Jack, I was tempted." He closed his eyes. "There were so many times I knew you needed me."

    When their lips met it was violent and desperate, Jack pushing full force into Tony as though he could somehow reclaim the last few years they were apart with one kiss. His hands released Tony's wrists to slide under his shirt and prove to himself that this was real. They pushed against one another, neither truly trying to take control, just to get back what they'd lost. One of Tony's hands were gripping Jack's hair, the other on the side of his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss took them over.

    Swept up in the escalation, Jack slipped his hands down to Tony's waist and gripped, making sure there would be bruises to remember this moment by. Jerking forward, Tony moaned and the sound echoed against the walls. It was enough to break them apart and remind them of how little time they had. Pressing the keys into Tony's hand, Jack walked around to the passenger side and tried to catch his breath.

    Licking his lips, Tony got behind the wheel and blinked a few times in an attempt to wipe the lust he knew must've been clouding his eyes.

    For now, he had to focus.

Fic: Day Four, PG, Jack/Tony 24

Sun, 19 Jul 2009 06:31:11 GMT

Title: Day Four - 6:43:21 <Missing Scene>
Author: morphinelovexx
Pairing/Characters: Jack/Tony
Rating: PG for suggestive slash and my tactical bullshitting.
Word count: 415
Summary: Jack made a split second decision, and knew that there was only one person he could trust to do what needed to be done without hesitation, one way or another.
Disclaimer: If I were the owner, this would've at least been a deleted scene.
Notes: I think it's alright to admit that I'm absolutely TERRIFIED to post this because it's my first delve into 24 fanfiction, but my beta napalmiris assures me it's absolutely golden. She cleaned it up and pistol whipped me until I agreed to post it, so if you've got issues with my little ficlet, I'd suggest you take it up with her. :D That being said, I think I got the characters pretty on the level, so I hope everyone enjoys. Also, a quick request, if you do review, please don't mention anything beyond season four because I'm still behind. I'm starting season five tomorrow and I'm attempting to avoid most spoilers. Thenks!

    A hard body shoved Tony against the lockers, calloused hands gripping his hip and neck. His first reaction was buried panic, then a rush of calm when Jack spoke. "I need you to listen to me, and don't speak." There was an almost urgent pause as Jack's breath rasped against Tony's neck, sending heat coiling down his spine and curling in the pit of his stomach. "The Preside-" Jack stopped and took another rout. "That was David Palmer on the phone. Someone in President Logan's inner circle superseded the order that I be handed over to the Chinese and told them to kill me." Tony tensed under Jack's hands, not moving but speaking despite Jack's earlier order.

    "What do you need?" Jack's voice was closer to his ear this time, his lips teasing the skin of Tony's ear by being just a fraction of an inch out of reach. "I need you and Michelle. Get Chloe too, she can get into the clinic without being noticed. I'm going to drop you to the ground just in case someone is watching. Wait about twenty seconds after I'm out the door, then sound the alarm. Go to Buchanan, he's probably stalling the agent as we speak. Demand to come with him, and lead him down to the basement." He paused for a second, and Tony just barely nodded, ear brushing against Jack's lips.

    "I'm gonna need epinephrine." The hand on Tony's neck slid around, pressing into the skin just below the trachea. "You're gonna have to inject me right here, two, maybe three minutes at the most after I go down." Jack's body surged into Tony's, pressing them together from thigh to shoulder. Jack's voice lowered to a growl. "If the agent gets suspicious, I don't want you to hesitate. Shoot me. I don't want it to go down like that but I will not risk your freedom again." Tony barely suppressed the whimper threatening to escape his throat, heart pounding in fear and twisted arousal.

    Jack brought his hand back around and shoved Tony's head forward into the open locker, stopping it just a millimeter away from the metal in the back. Tony went limp, slipped from Jack's hands. His skin felt cold where Jack had been holding him, even through the layers of clothing, Tony could feel the man's heat and missed it now that it was gone. On the ground he heard Jack's footsteps fading, the door opening, and then silence.

    Tony started counting.

Fic: Inamorato - PG-13, The Brother's Bloom

Fri, 17 Jul 2009 09:33:40 GMT

Title: Inamorato
Author: morphinelovexx
Pairing/Characters: Hints of Stephen/Bloom
Rating: PG-13 for language and hinted incest and hinted pedophilia and angst and sap and me being a romantic. And it's in first person.
Word count: 378 (a ficlet by standards, but it gets the message across)
Summary: Stephen has always had a reason. Always.
Disclaimer: I am not Rian Johnson, even if I wish I was him.
Notes: I can't believe I did this. Seriously, I think someone should lynch me for doing it! Please! Also, napalmiris made me. So lynch her, too. Epic massive ugly Godawful spoilers, too. So if you haven't seen the film yet, I'd suggest avoiding this fic(ish). Otherwise, go hogwild.

I love him. I've always loved him, from the moment I met my little brother to my dying day, I love him.

I loved him when we were bounced from home to home, when no one else in the world seemed to understand. I loved him when he spilled the milk. I loved him when he was purple and bruised and questioned by the cops. I loved him when the misunderstanding with Ethel's cat turned into a nightmare. I loved him when we pulled off our first con.

When we ran, when we made our own life-one not dictated by the state or even federal law-I loved Bloom. When we found a mentor and a warm bed waiting unconditionally for us, I loved Bloom. When I saw the welts on his back and legs and smelled the bastard on him, I loved Bloom. When I jabbed with every last bit of my strength at the man who dared befoul something so precious to the world and dear to me, well, that one is self explanatory.

Because I love him, I pushed women on him. Because I love him, I pushed men on him. Because I love him, I did everything I could to make him fall out of love with me. Because I love him, I wouldn't let myself take advantage of that starry eyed innocent face, the one that begged for the one thing he knew I could never give him. Because I love him, I never fucked him.

In my love for my brother, I pulled the greatest con ever conceived. From a heart that spared no woman or man-or Bang Bang-save for Bloom, I spun a noose from lies that I used to hang myself.

And while the blood drips from my body, he makes a great escape. I know the blood on his shirt will dry, and he'll know I never lied to him.

The day I con you is the day I die.

While it doesn't make me sad, dying alone, I can only hope for one thing.

That when he realizes what's happened to me, he knows without any hesitation or uncertainty that even though we lived a life built from stories and lies one thing was always true; I love him.

Star Trek XI: Dress it Up - R, Bones/Chekov

Fri, 19 Jun 2009 08:42:15 GMT

Title: Dress it Up With the Trappings of Love
Author:
Pairing/Characters: Bones/Chekov
Rating: Hard R in places, PG in others
Fandom: Star Trek: XI
Word count: 1,790
Summary: A 50sentences project brought to you by the Goo Goo Dolls, Pepsi, and Mme. X's Godawful amazing imagination.
Disclaimer: Stop reminding me that I didn't have anything to do with the creation of this wonderful franchise. I also don't own the Goo Goo Dolls, Pepsi, or Mme. X's Godawful amazing imagination.
Notes: napalmiris is currently holding me hostage in her basement, and demanded I write her something, so I opted for the simplest rout and do 50sentences. Yeah, I get cocky. -sniffles- Rightfully so in this case, I do believe. Let me know what you think, yeah? The title is from, as you probably guessed, a Goo Goo Dolls song called 'I'll Be'. Also, I don't write Pavel's accent unless it serves me. Which means he says 'inwented' somewhere in here.

#01 - Motion
    Bones exhaled when Pavel suddenly gasped, moving a hand quickly to his neck just to prove to himself the ensign was still alive.

#02 - Cool
    "So cool..." Pavel breathed as he bent over the microscope, unaware that the doctor's grumbled agreement came from the way McCoy's eyes lingered on the strip of uncovered skin on the small of his back.

#03 - Young
    Age didn't matter when Pavel was staring up at Bones from between his legs, his mouth hot and eager, hands grabbing and clutching, with those needy noises spilling from his otherwise occupied mouth.

#04 - Last
    Bones knew jealousy was a stupid and potentially relationship destroying emotion, but when Pavel smiled wide and accepted a present from the Bolian's (mateless) leader, he couldn't help the possessive arm that situated itself around the kid's waist.

#05 - Wrong
    Pavel's bruises throbbed and his back ached as he walked back to the bridge, the physical memory dirtyawfulwrong god why did they do it right where they could be heard or caught? causing a small smirk to turn up the corners of his lips.

#06 - Gentle
    Bones rolled his eyes as Pavel displayed his bruised finger (totally not worth a visit to sickbay), and kissed the appendage gently.

#07 - One
    The Captain's eyes were of no consequence to Pavel as he grabbed McCoy's face in the transporter room and kissed him hard, pulling back to whisper from bruised lips, "One for the road."

#08 - Thousand
    There were a thousand reasons this was labeled in his mind as a 'very fucking bad idea', but when Joanna screeched and giggled happily from her upside down position in Pavel's arms, unaware of her mother's glare, Leonard McCoy couldn't find it in himself to give a damn.

#09 - Mad
    Pavel jerked his arm from Bones's sympathetic pat, grumbling something that sounded like 'am fine' before locking himself in the bathroom with hopes to wash his father's angry words away.

#10 - Learn
    Absently smoothing back the curls on Pavel's head, Bones brushed a soft kiss to his forehead and wished he didn't have to be the one the brilliant kid had to learn the meaning of heartbreak from.

#11 - Blur
    Bones wanted to blame it on the booze, but wasn't drunk enough to blur the night before out and when Pavel pushed against him and moaned softly in sated sleep, Bones realized he wasn't sober enough to regret it yet, either.

#12 - Wait
    "Waitwaitwait," Bones grabbed Pavel by the hem of the shirt and cocked an eyebrow, tugging it up and over the ensign's head despite his blush, turning it right side out; twice this week Pavel had gone to the bridge with his shirt askew in some way, and if Jim teased the kid any harder he'd probably blush himself to death.

#13 - Change
    When they moved in together, Bones was expecting the room to look like a teenager lived there; instead, cartography PADDs in Russian took space next to medical texts, maps cluttered a single corner of the room, and a stuffed bunny rabbit peeked from under the pillow on the side of the bed Pavel claimed as his own.

#14 - Command
    "I swear, Bones, I don't know how the hell they found out-" Bones cut Jim's apology off and stormed away, intent on finding some way to drink away Command's decision to transfer Pavel to another ship due to 'sexual misconduct and fraternization'.

#15 - King
    "And the King, in all his wisdom, let the princess marry the brave servent boy, and they lived happily ever after." Pavel looked with a grin at the little girl resting against his chest, who was fast asleep, and then to her father, who was snoring on the couch.

#16 - Need
    Pavel was made of heat and need and pure passion, wrapped in a boyish face and long eyelashes that made him seem dangerously innocent, and as Bones shoved him against the wall of their quarters he couldn't help thinking that when the others looked into those sweet eyes they had no fucking idea.

#17 - Vision
    "-could be permanent, could be temporary. I just don't know, Jim..." Pavel stood and attempted to walk towards the conversation, cursing loudly in Russian when his feet fell out from under him and sent him to the ground, unseeing eyes filling with helpless tears.

#18 - Attention
    Bones couldn't help admiring the way Pavel's body drew bowstring tight when he snapped to attention.

#19 - Soul
    Okay, maybe it cost the rest of his soul, but seeing Pavel tied to the bed and writhing was worth total damnation.

#20 - Picture
    On his bedside table was a photograph Bones sneakily took; in it, Pavel was holding Joanna tight, leaning against the railing that overlooked the water, pointing upward with her tiny hand in his, helping her trace a constellation.

#21 - Fool
    "You're a fool, Bones." Jim grinned and shoved his obviously lovesick friend playfully towards the blushing ensign who stood under the mistletoe.

#22 - Hold
    Pavel's tears went unhindered as he sat on the side of the bed, clutching the sheets for dear life as Bones held him from behind and whispered soothing nonsense into his ear, thinking that kids should always be the ones to bury their parents, but never this early.

#23 - Child
    "Don't break 'im, Bones!" Pavel's moans died in his throat as his lover abruptly stopped moving and shouted back, "You're a child, Jim!"

#24 - Now
    "Now or never, old man." Bones grumbled, snapping the box holding the small silver band shut.

#25 - Shadow
    Pavel hissed as his lover's perpetual five o'clock shadow scratched against his thigh, burning in the best way.

#26 - Goodbye
    In a thousand missions, Bones made a point of never saying 'goodbye' to Pavel before he left, because 'goodbye' implied he wasn't coming back.

#27 - Hide
    "Don't hide, kid, it's not gonna hurt." The hypo nearly fell from Bones's loose grip as he got sight of Pavel holding his stuffed rabbit in front of his face in a piss poor attempt to blend in with the sheets, the room filling with his laughter.

#28 - Fortune
    "Fortune cookies were inwented in Russia." Bones slapped the kid on the hip and gave him a sharp look, knowing that now, Pavel only did it to amuse anyone who was listening.

#29 - Safe
    Pavel handed him a phaser and kissed him sweetly, whispering something in Russian that Bones didn't need a translation to know meant 'be safe'.

#30 - Ghost
    Sometimes, in the mirror, Bones could see the ghost of the man he once was, but when Pavel brushed his lips against his shoulder and laced their fingers together, he saw only the man he was proud to have become.

#31 - Book
    Bones had no idea what the book was about, but with the gentle Russian words pouring from Pavel's mouth and the fingers winding softly through his hair, he really didn't give a damn.

#32 - Eye
    "Hold still, dammit." Bones tipped Pavel's head back and looked at the bloodshot eye, swearing and apologizing, thinking all the while that it was Jim's fault for startling them.

#33 - Never
    "Never letting you go again, kid, never, fucking forget it-" Blood bubbled up from Pavel's mouth and Bones continued mumbling over and over to himself as he patched the gaping hole that was almost too close to his lover's heart.

#34 - Sing
    The first thing Pavel was aware of when he came to was the soft, deep voice, singing somewhere near his ear, making him feel safer than he had in years.

#35 - Sudden
    The realization hit him like a solid brick and sent him reeling when Pavel's smaller hand covered his own and a smile turned up his lips as he made peace with the new found fact that he was completely stupid for this kid.

#36 - Stop
    "I love you, Leonard." Pavel didn't look up from the flimsy medbay sheets, but McCoy was pretty sure the entire room heard his heart stop.

#37 - Time
    All the reassurances in the world wouldn't change the simple fact that Pavel died only because McCoy couldn't get there in time.

#38 - Wash
    Soapy hands slid up and down his back, moving around his shoulders as Pavel pressed against him, and Bones couldn't help thinking if this kid kept washing him, he'd never get clean.

#39 - Torn
    Pavel toyed with the tear in his uniform top, fingers pressing against the fresh bruise Bones left in his wake.

#40 - History
    McCoy had a history of pretty young lovers and heartbreak, but Pavel, who fit so squarely into category A, refused to allow himself to be shut off in the book under category B.

#41 - Power
    Bright grin lighting his face, Pavel pulled Bones along behind him, leaving the man to wonder when he'd become so powerless against the charms of the small Russian.

#42 - Bother
    Pavel's head fell squarely in his lap, invading his space on the couch without so much as a thought, but when Bones looked down to see those sad eyes staring up at him on the verge of tears, it was quickly moved to the bottom of his list of bothers.

#43 - God
    "God, Pavel, oh fuh-" The breathless plea was cut off when Bones choked on his own tongue, thrusting hard into the willing mouth around his cock.

#44 - Wall
    Pavel backed Bones against the wall and grinned against his lips, hand pushing without ceremony into his pants as he whispered, "Is my turn now."

#45 - Naked
    Bones felt his blush rise as he stood, naked, in the middle of the room under Pavel's obviously appreciative gaze.

#46 - Drive
    The motorcycle revved between his legs and Bones pushed the gas a little harder, a warning running through the part of his brain that wasn't screaming for more of the hand squeezing his crotch that they were going to crash if Pavel kept that up.

#47 - Harm
    It was foolish to wish that no harm would come to Pavel when he went on away missions, but was it too much to ask for him to not come back every time half dead?

#48 - Precious
    "Don't you worry precious," Pavel's entire body shivered with the way his lover's slow drawl got more noticeable when he was aroused.

#49 - Hunger
    Bones bit down hard on Pavel's shoulder, relishing in the loud moan that spilled from the body writhing against his own, purring in his own lust-deepened accent, "You make me hungry, boy."

#50 - Believe
    Pavel didn't know what would come of them after the end of the five year mission, but as he toyed with the silver band around his finger and looked out the view screen to the stars, he put his heart into believing.

Smokin' Aces: Parallel Oblivion - PG-13 Acosta/Bill, Messner/Hollis

Mon, 15 Jun 2009 02:05:11 GMT

Title: Parallel Oblivion
Author: </a></b></a>morphinelovexx
Pairing/Characters: Acosta/Bill, Messner/Hollis
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Smokin' Aces
Word count: 1,542
Summary: Law of Oblivion: To forget the past transgression of any person.
Notes: I'm pretty sure when I wrote this I didn't plan on posting it anywhere. Of course, napalmiris is counterproductive to my health and detrimental to my freedom, so I did it! :D Plus, the SA comm totally needs some vamping. If I write something conductive I'll post that, but uh, for now, live with and love this.

Pasquale Acosta goes missing from the hospital two days after being admitted, as expected.

What no one saw coming was the disappearance of Bill, the unassuming and half dead security guard a week later. Not too much of a shock on it's own, people came and went all the time, except Bill left his door wide open and the only thing missing were a few of his clothes. Bill's neighbors reported hearing muffled yelling coming from the house the night before, but refused to get involved. Messner almost hopped something happened to the poor guy just to make them feel like shit because while none of them wanted to be 'nosey' the night before, as soon as they saw the badge they asked more questions of Messner than he had of them.

Bill lived alone, but he did have two dogs and a nephew who stayed with him more often than not, so there was a slim-to-none chance that he'd just run off without telling anyone or even packing. Messner knew he had to find this guy, if not for Bill's sake, then for his own. Another innocent person couldn't die because of this monster.
____

The first lead came in four days after they both disappeared. A man fitting Bill's description wearing dirty clothes and looking slightly distraught rented a hotel room in southern California, requesting two beds. The manager took a moment to recognize him, calling the number on a flier he'd received days earlier.

Hollis picked it up, answering with a classy and professional, "What? What do you want?" Wrangling the information from the manager, Hollis turned to Messner. "Hey. I think we found them." Messner was out the door before Hollis could grab their jackets, and even though his obsession was borderline irritating, Hollis couldn't help but get swept up in the excitement of possibly finding Acosta.

Of course, by the time they got there, it was too late. The drive had taken nearly 24 hours with breaks, and it was enough time for Acosta to take Bill and vanish without a trace. The punch line was, while one bed looked well-slept in, the other one hadn't been touched. Messner stared at the two for a long time before turning to Hollis, his eyes dark and angry. "What's that sick bastard doing with this guy?"

Messner took care of the paperwork, but instead of climbing back in the car to drive to the office, he came back with a room key. Hollis cocked an eyebrow, but the game was over when he looked at the number. They fought, Messner yelled, and Hollis caved. They were staying in Acosta's room. Messner did the courtesy of letting Hollis sleep in the bed that they hadn't, but it still creeped him out. The way Messner eyed the room, as though he could see what they'd done. Around midnight, Messner crawled on top of Hollis-who'd slept in his clothes; the room was giving him the heeby-jeebies-and kissed him, slow and deep at first. Any protest Hollis would've made died in his throat.
____

Things were quiet for two weeks after that, Messner didn't say a word about the hotel and Hollis had almost forgotten about it until a package arrived addressed to Messner. Pictures of Acosta and Bill in Tampico, Mexico. Bill was almost unrecognizable. His stubble had obviously been left unchecked for a few days, and his hair had been shaved off completely. He wore jeans and a t-shirt and looked utterly at ease with Acosta standing behind him on the beach, the sun beating down on both of them.

Neither man stood out in a crowd, and if you didn't know who they were, you'd never distinguish them from other tourists. There were six pictures, the first two innocuous, just them standing and walking. Then Acosta's hand was on Bill's hip. In the fourth picture, they'd moved to a hotel deck and were standing too close. The fifth, Bill was leaning against the door leading to presumably their room, arms around Acosta's neck. In the last one, they were kissing. Deep. Passionate. Consensual.

For a long while, Messner didn't say anything. Hollis didn't know what would piss him off more-the fact that they were in Mexico or the fact that Bill apparently hadn't been kidnapped. Throwing the pictures to the ground, Messner screamed. He slammed his hands on the desk and his face twisted with pure rage. Hollis knew better than to try and console him, he just stepped back and let Messner destroy their office. They cleaned it up in silence, and on the plane ride to Mexico, Hollis had to try and ignore the questioning looks all the flight attendants shot the bruises that were too high up to hide.
____

Of course they were too late to catch the men in Mexico, but with some convincing on the part of Hollis, stayed for an impromptu vacation. A month led them around South America, and Messner seemed to loosen up-at least enough to be noticeable. The day they were going to leave, Hollis checked the messages in the office. Someone had been frantically trying to reach them.

They found Bill.
___

Unconscious and bloody, Bill had been found in the Parque Menca de Leoni and taken immediately to the hospital. He could mutter broken phrases of Spanish, but other than that was completely incapable of communicating with the doctors. Hollis got directions and they were there in six hours. Bill had checked out AMA, but left a name and number behind for a hotel room if they needed him. With some convincing and a little flirting, Hollis charmed the information from the head nurse. Messner already had the car started when he walked out.
They didn't bother knocking on the door, Messner simply flashed his out-of-service badge and the desk clerk-who was obviously involved in more than shady business-handed over the room key. Messner nearly ran to the room, leaving Hollis behind in with a look of exasperation and begrudging acceptance. Bill was lying on the single bed in the middle of the room when they opened the door, his eyes shut and his breathing even. His cuts had been stitched up but his face was still a bit bruised, and in sleep he looked much younger and more vulnerable than the last they'd seen of him.

Messner approached and drew his gun, Hollis walking behind him and clenching his fist on his one operable hand. The door shut behind them and Bill slowly opened his eyes. Acosta was standing against the door, his expression indecipherable. Hollis could've kicked his own ass for falling into this, but Messner's eyes didn't change. He was expecting this, Hollis realizes, anger rising so quickly that he actually felt dizzy.

Bill sat up and looked at them, impassive. "You've been following us." It wasn't a question. Acosta moved around Hollis, picking up a black duffle bag and dropping it beside Bill on the bed. "He," Bill motioned to Acosta with his head, as though this were a conversation about lunch plans. "Wants to just get rid of you. I'm inclined to agree, but for all I know you're actually good guys. So, I'm gonna give you a chance here. Back off." Bill looked at his lover, then back to Messner, and finally to Hollis. When they locked eyes, Bill refused to give up the contact.

"If you don't, it'll be out of my hands." Acosta tilted his head and looked Messner up and down, reading him like an open book. "I'm sorry. About your partner." The ex-agent growled and moved forward, grabbing at Acosta. In less than three moves, Acosta had him pinned against the floor by the back of the neck, grounding his face into the carpet. Bill had a gun trained on Hollis, who'd moved without thinking. "Leave us alone." Bill said evenly, rising from the bed. He shouldered the bag. "We're none of your concern now." Tucking the gun away, Bill moved to the door and looked at Acosta, who still had Messner pinned.

"Come on." The way he'd said it made it sound more like a question, proving that though their relationship seemed consensual, Bill was in no way in charge. "Puede el cielo tiene misericordia de su alma, Messner, porque hacen no." Hollis' Spanish wasn't that great, but whatever he'd said made Bill shiver, just enough to be noticed by someone paying close attention. Acosta stood and straightened his clothes, following Bill to the door. Other than a car engine turning over outside, there was no evidence they'd even been there.

Hollis helped Messner up, wishing he could say something, anything to break the silence between them. It felt like they were mourning something, the passing of a close friend. Carruthers. Hollis didn't say it, and Messner didn't acknowledge it, but they both knew that it was time to give up the chase. Going outside, Hollis stared at the empty space where they parked the car. He looked over at Messner, who started laughing uncontrollably. Maybe it was fate, maybe it was one last cruel joke, but Hollis laughed with him.

At that point, there was nothing else they could do but give in to this insanity.

Star Trek XI: Impact - PG-13, Bones/Jim (ish)

Tue, 09 Jun 2009 02:53:07 GMT

LOL Shame? What the hell is that?

Title: Impact
Fandom: Star Trek: Reboot
Pairing: Leonard 'Bones' McCoy / James T. Kirk
Word Count: 1,224
Disclaimer: Star Trek: Reboot and the ST franchise is NOT MINE, I'm just a humble trekkie playing in the sandbox.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Super agnst, character death, Jim's thickheadedness
Author's Notes: I wrote this because I'm an awful person first of all, and because I've been skulking around st_xi_kink in the shadows of anonymity for a while now and figured it was time to come out of hiding. Of course, two other people claimed the same prompt, so we're having some fun now. -grins- The prompt was: Bones/Kirk - Five Times Bones Saved Kirk's Life, and One Time He Didn't. It's unedited, but it should be okay because I've gone over it a few times.

1.
    "I'm gonna have you banned from the science lab." Bones shoved the hypo into Jim's neck none-to-gently, his tired eyes attempting to focus and hoping that he got the right spot. "You didn't think something marked 'Dangerous-Do Not Open' should be left alone?" Jim shrugged and put on the smile that forced Bones to sleep elsewhere until a girl was inevitably kicked out of their room.

    "It was in the fridge. I figured someone was just trying to discourage others from eating a particularly tasty lunch." Bones rolled his eyes.

    "So you decide to eat it." Jim nodded. "Now you're gettin' it, Bones." Bones smacked the leg that was dangling between his own. "I suppose the concept of your very close death escapes you?" Jim's little smirk turned into a full blown grin as he pat his friend and doctor on the shoulder.

    "Always."

2.
    Jim babbled as he looked up at the ceiling of sickbay, the last of the toxins rendered inert by the hypo Bones stuck near his groin (just to get the point across, honest!). "Can't keep your pants on for ten Goddamn minutes, can you?" Jim smiled sheepishly and some of the anger Bones felt dulled.

    "How was I supposed to know Hizians eat their partners after sex?"

3.
    Glaring, Bones ran the scanner over Jim's hand. The thing was pulverized, completely shattered. Jim just kept the goofy, stupid smile on his face, probably incapable of feeling it from the drugs in his system. "You know, Jim, one of these days you're gonna get yourself into trouble and I'm not gonna come running." Leaning forward, Jim rested his forehead against his shoulder, and Bones could feel the fever even though his clothes.

    "That's impossible, Bones. You'll always be there for me." Turning his head, Jim kissed his neck, lips burning hot. "You love me too much." Bones grumbled in his chest and gave Jim a sedative, promptly putting him down.

    "Shoulda let them sacrifice you, you stupid bastard."

4.
    Bones held his head from dropping forward as Jim threw up again. They'd been in the bathroom for a good hour, working the alcohol out of Jim's system. "She was...she was right there, Bones. I had her. I had her. They just...they shot...she wasn't even-" Jim's rambling was cut off as he lurched for the toilet. The day was wearing on, but Bones knew that if he left Jim alone for a second, the man would either drown in his own vomit or go back to trying to drink himself to death in the shortest amount of time possible.

    Jim's self-berating monologue went on, until finally it had just deteriorated to 'Uhura' over and over again. Even though Bones was doing all he could by keeping Jim alive, he still felt useless.

5.
    "Jim, it goes on the left."

    "What, why? It looks better on the right."

    "No, they intemperate that as a sign of hostility."

    "Left is peace and right is war? Guess I'm leading with my left. Thanks, Bones. Saved my life." Jim pat him on the back roughly.

    "Don't mention it." Bones rolled his eyes and mumbled, "Damn kid."

∞
    Jim was heavy against him, the cave starting to rumble. The communicators had been taken back when they got captured, and crushed during the twisted interrogation from a rebel force on the warring planet. Jim suffered the brunt of it, proclaiming himself the Captain in a stupid move that Bones would've kicked him for now if he hadn't just reset Jim's leg. They had a phaser with a few shots left in it, but the rocks in the cave refused to stay lit and warm.

    Shifting against Bones, Jim looked up. His face was smudged with blood and dirt, and one of the cuts on his forehead was still bleeding, though sluggishly. Bones tried to convince himself it was because it was stopping, not because Jim had already lost a staggering amount of blood. Bones was trying his hardest not to look Jim in the eyes because he knew the light there was fading, even as he kept his Captain, his friend awake.

    "Bones. Bones." Jim was using the tone Bones knew meant he wasn't giving up until Bones looked him in the eye. He allowed himself to look at the body resting against his, cataloging all the injuries he knew about and some he'd guessed on. Broken leg, ribs, probably a few fingers judging on the sickening crunch they both heard when the rebels smashed them between the wall and table. Internal bleeding somewhere in the abdomen, a number of bruises and deep muscle damage. On their own, these were things that could be fixed-were things Jim suffered every week. Together, away from sickbay, in a fucking cave, they could be fa-no. Not yet. Finally, Bones looked into Jim's eyes. "Let it die out." With his good hand, he motioned to the rock who's glow was fading.

    Bones shook his head. "Absolutely not. We need the warmth, and I need to keep you awake." A concussion, possibly a cracked skull. Jim smiled in the way he did when Bones didn't understand one of his insane schemes that (almost) always worked. "Bones. Let it go out. I can keep you warm enough for now, we might need it later." You're gonna need it when I'm gone. Bones jerked his head sharply and rose the phaser as the rock started to go out. Jim pushed his hand down. "Dammit, Jim, now is not the-" "Doctor McCoy. As your Captain, I'm ordering you not to fire." Jim's eyes had blazed for a moment, it was the last thing Bones could see.

    Everything was quiet for a moment, save for Jim's labored breathing. A hand came up and cradled his face, and even in the dark Bones could feel Jim's smile. "Take a nap, you've earned it. I'll be here when you wake up." Bones wanted to scream because he knew it was a lie, but he also recognized a pleading request from Jim Kirk, the greatest Captain Starfleet has ever known. The man who didn't want his best friend to listen to him die. Using the now trembling hand on his cheek, Jim pulled Bones down and kissed him. Last kiss Bones thought. He refused to acknowledge the tears stinging the back of his eyes, refused to let them fall. Leaning back against the rock wall behind himself for support, Bones allowed his eyes to close, just for a moment.

____

    "Captain! Doctor!" There was light streaming onto his face and the heavy weight of Jim in his lap. Had they gotten drunk? Bones didn't remember falling asleep. Eyes opening to meet the morning light, everything slammed back to him. Bones panicked and looked down at Jim, who's face was pressed against his thigh. He didn't have to feel for a pulse, he already knew there wasn't one. Staring down at the head of golden brown hair in his lap, Bones felt nothing. No pain, no sorrow, no anger, nothing at all. He'd truly believed that like every other time, Jim would find a way to pull through. Bones sat with the silence of the crew and the unnatural stillness of the man in his lap, the only thing running through his brain being how wrong this was.

The Locusts, The Truth in Lighters and Liars (R)

Wed, 01 Apr 2009 19:22:49 GMT

I have got to be the most horrible person on the face of the planet, writing R-rated fic for this movie. Please, kill me. Kill me now. I'm going to hell anyway, just do it.

Title: The Truth in Lighters and Liars
Fandom: The Locusts
Pairing: Clay Hewitt/Joseph "Flyboy" Potts
Word Count: 864
Disclaimer: I don't even wish I owned this movie, it's awful. I love it, but Jesus man. I also don't own Jeremy Davies or Vince Vaughn, but you'd know if I did. Promise. The ending would've been better, dammit! -weeps-
Rating: R
Warnings: Hard core fluff, a bit of agnst, and me being romantic-which deserves it's own warning in and of itself.
Author's Notes: So this is what I do when I'm in Creative Writing class. :D Yesterday I finished my work for the quarter, so I just have to show up in class and basically sit on my hands right now. In lieu of doing something, I dunno, PRODUCTIVE for another class, I decided to write Locusts slash! I'm...an awful, awful person. Anyway, it literally doesn't exist anywhere else, not even a fic, the closest I came to it was a drabble done by morlockiness</lj> (it's awesome even if it isn't slash, you should totally read it). This is unbetaed, but I believe I'm good. Either way, enjoy the show.

Clay lit a cigarette and looked down at Flyboy, who watched his every move with sleepy, sated eyes. Taking a few drags, he offered the stick up, half-smiling when Flyboy brushed his fingers as he took it. Leaving for the bathroom, Clay thought of what he was doing. This small, fragile boy who should’ve grown up long ago was starting to attach himself to Clay. This rose conflicting emotions in his chest; Clay knew that he couldn’t take any of these people with him when he left because of what happened in KC. On the other hand, the way Flyboy looked at him, eyes all lit up like Christmas, was something he didn’t want to end up missing. Washing his hands to stall for time, Clay looked in the mirror. He couldn’t do this. He had to leave, before Flyboy got too invested. Thinking of what to say, he turned and looked at the kid in his bed.

Flyboy sat up, the blanket pooling around his slim hips, cigarette dangling between his fingers. In his free hand was the lighter, the hand with the cigarette cupped awkwardly around the flame. Flyboy looked fascinated with trying to get the technique perfect, taking periodical drags from the lit cigarette between his fingers. Clay just stood there watching, entranced by the way Flyboy’s lips moved with silent encouragements. He walked over and climbed on the bed, startling Flyboy. Plucking the lighter and the cigarette from him, Clay kissed Flyboy soundly. When he pulled away and snubbed out what was left of the stick, the kid was blushing hotly. Neither said a word, just kissed again.

Pulling the blanket away, Clay started to climb up on top of his lover. No, he couldn’t leave this. There had to be a way he could take Flyboy with him when he left. The way his breath hitched when Clay put a hand over his heart was endearing, the way Flyboy stuttered his name when his kisses went lower was charming. There was so much so savor about Flyboy, body and soul, that it made Clay cautious. Sex was one thing, but romance had never ended well for him, which was why Clay tended to avoid it at all costs.

Switching his brain off, Clay pulled Flyboy into his lap, knowing he was ready and still stretched from their last round. Mouthing at his neck, Clay pulled the smaller body down on his, slipping in with little resistance. Flyboy whimpered and tangled his fingers in Clay’s hair, tears rolling down the sides of his face. He had cried the first time, too, but forced Clay to keep going. He’d sworn it didn’t hurt, that it was something else, but soon it hadn’t mattered. Neither of them could think straight, much less wonder if they were doing the right thing. As Flyboy rose and fell in a slow rhythm, Clay searched his face. He was beautiful and unsure and willing and eager, and Clay couldn’t understand how he’d been the first to see it. To want him and take him.

Clay started moving them down, putting Flyboy on his back and holding his hips up to get a good angle. In a way, they were both more venerable now, looking directly into one another’s eyes as the slow thrusts continued, the moonlight through the broken window spilling into the room. Romance. It was erotic and passionate as Clay worshiped Flyboy’s body the way he felt it deserved to be. They kissed and clung to one another, both terrified of what was happening between them. The higher they climbed the deeper they fell, pressing against one another and abandoning all previous trepidation to surrender the thing surrounding them. Flyboy gasped and his hips hitched against Clay’s as he came.

Carrying Flyboy through his orgasm, Clay began to pull out, but was stopped when thin legs clenched against his hips. He’d pulled out the first time and finished himself off just watching Flyboy revel in their post, but this time as the kid looked up at him through lowered, thick eyelashes, Clay knew there would be none of it. Thrusting in all the way, he moved his hips in short thrusts. Leaning forward, Clay took Flyboy’s lips in a kiss, starting chaste and then growing deeper. When he came, Flyboy swallowed Clay’s moan and surged against him, finding comfort in the way Clay’s large body didn’t move. They stayed like that for a few long moments, just kissing and coming down, neither willing to break the spell.

Finally, they pulled away from one another and Flyboy blushed a color Clay had never even seen a girl turn. He scooped up the forgotten blankets and covered himself, belated shyness kicking in. Clay laughed and reached for his cigarettes. He picked the lighter up from where it’d been dropped, and put a cigarette between Flyboy’s lips. Reaching up with his hand cupped around the flame, Clay lit it up. His grin grew when Flyboy’s hand came up to wrap around his.

If Clay couldn’t take Flyboy with him, then he’d at least make a man out of him. Tomorrow, they would find him a girl. Tonight, Clay could keep Flyboy all to himself.

Sun, 08 Mar 2009 19:18:26 GMT

Okay children, gather round, gather round. It's time for another holier than thou, long ass, basically useless rant with a dash of actual information. You know, the ones I do every decade or so to let you guys who don't give a shit know what's going on in my life? Yeah, those are the ones.

My reasons for being overmedicated:

Comm pimp because someone might care, more of WBICTY because it hasn't been said enough, my backassward school (yet the adorableness of my English teacher), the urge to pack my shit, my most recent obsessions in cinema and why they're vital, my want to be Darlton when I grow up, and a not-so-brief catch up post of running commentaries on the season of LOST so far.

Oh shit, Napalm and I have responsibility now: That's right, napalmiris and myself have gotten off our asses and made our very own community. Due to a recent outbreak of Nestor Carbonell obsession on my part the two of us watched Smokin' Aces and though, holy shit, there should be slash for this! But, as with most of our fandoms, the shit is so obscure that we seem to be the only ones writing for it. So we decided to be the front runners in this game and make our very own comm. smokin_slash was officially set up last night (though I'm not sure where our user pic went, I know we have one) and I have been working to pimp it ever since.

By the by, the banner was all napalmiris and though I love her for being a tremendous bitchwhore, I think anyone interested should laugh in her face about it. XD

He's misunderstood, and still cooler than you: I have been....thus far fucking shocked at the Benhate in the LOST fandom lately. The man is quite possibly the most interesting and amazing character on the show and played by the gorgeous and talented Michael Emerson who is constantly on his fucking A game. Okay, yes, I realize these are just fangirlish opinions the size of which is so massive that it actually requires it's own electrical current to survive, but come on people! I understand loving to hate a character based on some unsavory deeds they've done, but that's not what's going on here.

People just hate Ben, they attack the character as flat or irritating or any number of things I've called Kate before just because they don't like some of the things he's done. What truly gets me is the people calling Ben emotionless. WHAT THE FUCK, MAN!? Ben has shown on any number of occasions just how emotional he can be, and just because he wasn't jearing or stating it in black and white, people seemed to miss it. Fuck, even when it's said in black and white people miss it! Ben is an amazing character who is so multi-facetted that you have to pay very, very close attention to what he's doing in order to understand it nine out of ten times.

Just because we're used to being raped with a clue-by-four when LOST actually answerers questions outright doesn't mean we can't get the answers in between. C'mon kids, pay attention.

Thank God there's only three months left: So recently I've entered a battle of wills with my Theater teacher. Let me tell you guys, she is a total, grade A, not getting any with that stick up your ass, B.I.T.C.H. I've been suffering her shit with a smile because I recently learned I was being buttfucked into submission by the system and forced to stay in Theater class. I have to take all four levels, which is stupid because after level two, there's nothing left to do. So until recently I have been the polite, pandering, innocent young student interested in nothing but theater and all it's ins and outs, but this semester, I'm hanging up my polite smile and telling her to go fuck herself because I can't take it anymore.

She treats all her students like they were nine years old, then expects respect. Automatic, unquestioning respect and loyalty. Maybe if she were a General in an army I was fighting for, or Michael Emerson, yes, I'd give her that. But she isn't. She's a pathetic high school theater teacher who's more invested in her own life than her work, which, when you're a teacher doesn't exactly work. Epically when you sit on your ass and text during a class that requires attention. -rolls eyes-

Thankfully, my entire school isn't like that. My English teacher, and my World History/Comparative Religions teacher are two of the most awesome people on the face of the planet. They're both very sweet and understanding and they haven't forgotten what it's like to be a student. Hell, my English teacher is a fresh graduate, and still gunning for her masters. Though I'm in Creative Writing with her now instead of English, she's still adorable and funny, and I wish that there were more teachers like her who just understand, you know? They make classes fun, instead of being tyrannical dictators. They fucking enjoy what they do and really, I think that's the way to go if you're gonna be a teacher.

So long and goodnight: It's been my dream since I was a wee babe to get the FUCK out of this shit ass little town. Well, in three months, I'm leaving forever. I'm packing my shit up, getting on a plane, and I'm never looking back. I'm shooting clear across the country to the west coast. Unfortunately, things suck so much around here compared to what I'm looking forward to, that I have to physically restrain myself every day from throwing everything in a fucking suitcase and just getting on the next available flight. I promised everyone involved in this little move, however, that I would finish school before I left. I figure it's the least I can do or something.

I've been saving up-badly-and I'm already looking at apartments/jobs/whathaveyou in the town I'm going to with the help of the glorious napalmiris who is going to be both my roomie and partner in crime when I get there. For the record, I leave June 13th, and will probably be off line for a good while afterwards so if I don't' answer some question you've posed to me, please, don't take it personal. All eight of you on my flist.

I wrote this 35 minutes ago: Okay, this is gonna be a clusterfuck melee so bare with me here. I recently re-watched Smokin' Aces and fell in total love with it. A highly underrated film just for it's more cartoonish moments, people have written off what could be a not-cult classic for a plethora of reasons which I don't see any of during it. First of all, Nestor Carbonell, though short on screen time, was one of the most fascinating characters I've ever seen in a film. He did so much with so little that it's hard for me to believe this was written off at all. His scene with Matthew Fox is so sexually and electrically charged for it's scale that even the director recognized it himself in the commentaries. It makes me shiver just thinking about it because these two men just deserve more than they got.

The film itself was amazing if only because they managed to make this huge action flick with a creamy mystery crime center, and topping it off was Ryan Reynolds acting his ass off! The man CAN do serious films and that fucking blew me away. Just the look in his eyes at the end of the film which I'm not going to spoil for anyone who hasn't seen it. GOD. I love it.

Speaking of unrelated topics, I got Primal Fear from Netflix recently. napalmiris and I agree that it's one of the best courtroom dramas we've ever seen. Richard Gere is damn spectacular with Edward Norton, the two have such a connection that all their scenes together are just so harmonious and perfect. Not to mention stuttering and sweet Edward Norton, who was absolutely adorable in this flick. It's kind of a complicated film only because it's so simple, which doesn't make much sense now but I promise, watch it and you'll understand.

A comic book film done right? HOLY SHIT! Yes, I've seen Watchmen. I went to a midnight showing on Thursday and it blew my brain out the back of my skull. Granted, Snyder can't shoot a sex scene to save his own damn life, I was never much interested in that in the first place. The entire film is shot in a way that's vaguely reminiscent of 300 but also gritty and comic book chique. I'll kill myself for that wording later. Rorschach was done so much justice my head actually hurt from it, and the changes in the ending, you know, the ones everyone was so pissed about? I think they fucking worked, even though I am with the fan base on the transfer of Veidt's amazing line to fucking Laurie-who for some reason was more annoying in the fucking movie than she was in the book, go figure.

I loved it all around and was riding an almost Dark Knight like high after I left. I'll be seeing it again in theaters, you bet your ass, and will without doubt be buying it when it comes out. The super deluxe special creamyourjeans edition. And possibly a Rorschach bobble head. Natch.

Podcasts = dangerous: Recently I've picked up the official LOST podcast from ABC.com and I've been playing catch up listening to all of them. Let me just go a head and say that Darlton are my heroes, and I swear I wanna be them when I'm all growed up and cynical. They're funny and they obviously love the hell out of what they do. I've found someone I have that kind of repertoire with, now all we need to do is make something amazing and ours so that we can complete the image.

(Please don't misread this, I know Damon and Carlton did not create nor are wholly responsible for LOST, I'm just saying they're the two I hear from the most and that is the way I want to be. Thanks for not bitching at me.)

I hate this fucking show: So. Where to start? I think all that can be said about the season opener has been said. I can't do an episode by episode recap because no one wants to read all that shit. I will, however, recap everything significant that I've seen in this season thus far.

SPOILER WARNING SPOILER WARNING SPOILER WARNING

I'm black and whiting it here people, if you're not caught up to LaFluer, don't fucking bother. Please and thanks.

I am 6:1 on theorizing. The six correct answers being Napalmiris and the one correct one being mine. We have worked out a theory that has nothing to do with this season but I'm not allowed to say anything until Napalm and I have had a chance to chat it out and fuck with all the kinks.

Ben's storyline is evolving in a natural and progressive way even though people seem to be getting more and more pissed about the whole Jeremy Bentham strangulation thing. I say, shit happens, and Ben has always had a damn good reason for doing whatever it is he's doing. Also, if people didn't notice, his voice cracked when he said he would miss John. Acting? Who the fuck was he acting for? It was a moment when Ben was truly himself and allowed his emotions to show through. But I have $20 down on the fact that most of the Ben anti-fans missed that. -rolls eyes-

The whole bits with Christian this season have blown my mind as few and far as they've been. The time traveling was starting to kill my brain just a little bit, but hey, as long as Jeremy Davies was explaining it, I was all to willing to listen. I'd love to think that everyone knew that Jin was alive, just because it's not a LOST death if we don't see a bloody, disgusting corpse. For on-Island deaths, anyway.

Sawyer is actually pleasing me more in the last few episodes than he has been in the season if only because he went from badass to hero in nothing flat. Understandable all things considered, but still slightly irritating. On that note, Go Sawyer and Juliet. I hate het, canon het on this fucking show is the worst nine out of ten times, but they did it right this time bless their little hearts. I'm hoping this happiness lasts beyond fucking Kate coming back because I think we're all tired of the Goddamn triangle between them.

And speaking of Kate, if she is as the fans are theorizing, knocked up with Jack's kid, I very well might fucking kill Jate fan or six. She wasn't meant to be damn mother, that much is obvious from whatever the hell happened to Aaron. I still think she ate him for sustenance. Fucking Kate. Fuck Kate, I don't care.

I hope we get to see more of Richard this season because he's been sadly lacking. LaFluer proved to us he is still here and oh, sweet Jesus if he doesn't look good angry. Stabbing the torch into the ground and demanding an audience with Horace....Mmm. I can't even tell you what came out of that, but I guarantee it was nothing good. Fuck me running, Nestor Carbonell has screen presence. I'd hate that man for being so cool if I didn't love him so much. Damn.

The other Losties are kind of fading into the backdrop as the season goes on for some reason and I'm really hoping this doesn't keep up because I am somewhat invested in them after five fucking seasons. I'd also like to know what the fuck happened to Daniel because while he was seen with the others during the beginning of their stint in the Dharma Initiative, he seems to have fucking disappeared in '77. I'm hoping that Richard stole him away and is making him forget all about Charlotte, but somehow I doubt it. -sighs- Call it a hunch.

Anyway, before this gets any more all over the damn place, I'm going to give it up for the day. Remember kids, drugs turn you into people like me and no one wants that. Come check out the new comm even if you're not into Smokin' Aces because I promise one look at that glorious and Godawful banner and you'll want to stay forever. Rent some movies and enjoy time with your loved ones because in this day and age I'm starting to think that that's all we've got. Thanks for wasting a bit of time with me.

See you next rant. :D

Acosta/Bill, PG, Smokin' Aces

Sat, 28 Feb 2009 17:14:38 GMT

Title: Aftermath
Author: morphinelovexx
Pairing/Characters: Acosta/Bill
Rating: PG
Fandom: Smokin' Aces
Word count: 622
Summary: Two people shouldn't meet up like this, unless they're destined to.
Notes: napalmiris and I watched Smokin' Aces last night and were like, "Nestor Carbonell and Matthew Fox...so would've fucked had Matthew survived." So we decided, thanks to the radio communication that got Nestor/Acosta shot up in the elevator, that Matthew/Bill did survive and they met at the hospital. If napalmiris keeps twisting my arm like you know she will, this just might turn into an epic that'll end somewhere in NC-17 cheap hotel porn. And hey, maybe I'll even post that part. :D Anyway, enough rambling, here's the fucking fic for your viewing pleasure. By the by, this is un'betaed, so any mistakes are my own. Try to ignore them.

Bill sucked the butt of the cigarette like it held the meaning of life, tears rolling down his face. Diego, or whatever the fuck his name was, had done a damn good job of making sure this hospital would be his home for the next few weeks with just one little pike. His stitches had reopened and blood was spotting on the front of his hospital gown (couldn't they think of a better word than that? he already felt weak and stupid, now he was wearing a 'gown' like a woman) but the pain was dulled by the morphine they'd given him and the nicotine he was self-administering. It wasn't the wound or the near-death experience, or even the gown that was bothering him though.

It was the fact that Bill could still feel with hypersensitivity the way his would be-killer held him so gently as he lowered him to the floor. The soft words that the fake agent spoke nearly against his lips were haunting Bill's drug-induced dreams, his college Spanish classes finally proving their worth. All for that useless fuck, Buddy Israel. The rat Bill was stupid enough to allow be housed in his hotel. True, he'd only been the head of security, but the manager wouldn't have made the move without his say so. Bill swore and hit his head against the wall, eyes shutting when a wave of dizziness washed over him like a warm embrace. The cigarette continued burning between his fingers, filling the small stairwell with the smell.

The door to Bill's left opened, but he didn't open his eyes. He just assumed it was an orderly, coming to force him back to his room just like they had the last eight times he'd snuck off for a smoke or just to avoid being pricked with another needle. The soft, stunned 'oh' drew his attention, only to lay eyes on the very man he'd been trying to pull his thoughts from. They stared at one another with similar looks of shock and slight awe, Bill's heart pounding as his cigarette burnt down to nothing. The silence between them was heavy with questions.

"You stabbed me." The assassin took a step forward, the bloody, torn red jacket he'd taken from the hotel, from Bill, shifting. "You left me no choice, Bill." Bill snorted. "Where do you get off using my name like we're friends?" His legs shook with the effort of keeping him up, but Bill tried not to let it show. He knew he was probably pale, and the bloodstain from his re-opened wound was growing, but he ignored both of these things and kept eye contact. "How much more intimate does it get than having a man nearly die in your arms?" Bill's jaw clenched with the effort of keeping conscious. "It doesn't count when you're the one who nearly killed him." The man smiled, genuine and amused. "I disagree."

The man moved forward just in time to catch Bill as the floor rushed up to meet him, bringing them both to the ground as he had before, holding Bill close and stroking gnarled fingertips against his wet cheek. "We keep ending up here, despite your protesting." Their faces were close and Bill could see the edges of the world fading. Tired of fighting, he let his eyes slip shut, surrendering. There was nothing for a few seconds but the sounds of breathing and Bill's heart pounding, and then, the phantom brush of lips against lips, and a clipped, mumbled phrase of Spanish that Bill didn't quite catch. Then, nothing. Bill had been abandoned in the stairwell as he'd been at the hotel, the tingling on his lips the only proof that any of it had happened.

A (modest?) Proposal.

Sat, 14 Feb 2009 20:23:48 GMT

I think I can solve a problem here. Just hear me out on this one.

Homophobia doesn't irritate me nearly as much as it confounds me. Of all the things that we have to be afraid of (death, spiders, bombs, the economy, terrorism, Madonna) some people are still homophobic? Is there even a point to it anymore? I'm starting to think it's just a 'stuck in the old ways of old days' sort of thing. But incase it isn't, incase there are a few of you out there truly afraid, let me just say this:

We mean you no harm. I promise, homosexuals don't bite unless you ask really, really nice. We're not gonna rape you just because you're the same gender we happen to be attracted to, and are in viewing distance. Okay? I swear, there is nothing to be afraid of on the 'who we're sleeping with' account. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not saying there aren't bad gay people out there. I'm just saying that the fact that they're gay generally has nothing to do with it. We're people with blood and skin and all those other neat things just like you, and a mentality and personality to match. Nothing to fear there.

On that note, I'd like to say something to my people.

Stop pushing your lifestyle. I'm not saying hide in the closet if it comes up in a conversation, but stop wearing rainbow shirts that say 'recruiter'. You're not fucking helping. In fact, that's hurting. Stop it. If you're talking about your significant other and someone gets hung up on the pronoun, then green light all the way. But stop going to random people or butting into random conversations with an over the top 'I'm here and queer' speech just because you want people to know. It's nothing to be ashamed of, but heterosexuals don't come into our conversations just to point out their right to be straight. Epically when it's irrelevant to the topic.

Now, I understand marching, because some fucked up shit did happen and people have the right to know about it and we have the right to protest like any other red-blooded American here. But when it comes to the day-to-day, that misguided activism is what makes people so stubborn to accept us in the first place. So just chill out. Like I said, I'm not promoting total re-closeting, but stop putting your sex life on display. It's embarrassing and irritating.

I think we can come to an agreement right here. Homophobes, stop treating us like we're all infected with AIDs and other STDs, or will turn you gay/rape you as soon as look at you. And my fellow homosexuals, stop making it so damn hard to carry on a conversation without sexuality being an issue. I think everyone here can be happy.

Thank you for your time.

fanfiction

Tue, 03 Feb 2009 04:35:15 GMT

Title: Always
Author: morphinelovexx
Pairing/Characters: Benjamin Linus/Jack Shephard
Rating/Category: hard PG-13
Spoilers: To and through 5x01/02
Word count: 676
Summary: Always is in your eyes, and always is you and I, for always. Always.
Notes: I am such a low class whore. Okay, so I was quite out of my mind this entire month, and I was paying absolutely no attention to what was going on in the comms. I missed the lostsquee</lj> fic battle by only a fucking BILLION miles, but figured that I'd snag a prompt and write something anyway. Just to kickstart my brain. I took 'Ben/Jack, it's our island' since there was a sad lack of the pairing during the actual battle. :( I hope you enjoy it, and please ignore the fact that the speculation in this fic is just the optimist in me shining through. It's all I can do sometimes. My beta, as always, was napalmiris</lj> who I was seriously afraid was going to keel over when I told her I actually finished something. Title and summary are taken from the song Always by Dope.

Ben looks at Jack.

It's something Jack has always known, because no matter what the circumstances, he could feel Ben's eyes on him. Through the glass of the cage they kept him in, roving up and down like Jack was a creature he'd never seen before. When Jack comes up to that glass and narrows his eyes, Ben doesn’t blink. When Jack lashes out and bares his teeth, Ben's gaze gets more intense. It shakes Jack to his very core, because it’s something he wasn’t expecting. Ben was intrigued by him - perhaps even enamored.

When Ben looks at him, it's the first time in months that there are no expectations attached. He makes Jack feel human, and he hates Ben for it just a little.

Faced with the promise of freedom and the sting of betrayal still fresh in his chest, Jack plays the puppet to Ben's master without a word. They speak in civil tongues, play chess, smile at one another. But Ben's eyes are still all over Jack, and he does nothing to hide the looks. Jack does his best to ignore those eyes, but he can always feel them. Even when Ben isn't there. He knows about the cameras, knows he's being watched, and by whom. It should feel more disturbing than it does, because Ben doesn't blink and Jack knows he's there.

Even with blood in them, those eyes kept right on staring. After a while Jack didn't feel right unless they were there. He ignored the thought however, in favor of getting off the Island. When Ben started pleading with him, Jack was half hard and his heart was slamming against his ribcage so fast he was afraid it'd break.

When he panted into the radio, Ben's eyes finally looked away. It felt like death and rebirth hitting him all at once-he was free from the spell those awful eyes put on him, but it felt like he was missing a chunk of himself deep down. The helicopter took off and they headed towards the freighter, but Jack couldn't stop looking at the Island.

They met again. Of course they would. Jack was Ben's. He understood the look now, and what Juliet meant back at the Tempest. Ben had staked his claim, and every inch he'd seen sure enough belonged to him. Jack looked at him through his tears, mouth open and attempting to acknowledge his understanding of this thing between them, but Ben just shook his head. "It's alright, Jack." Ben handed him a towel and a change of clothes, then left the hotel room for God only knew what. The clenching in Jack's gut released and he wished he couldn't identify the warm feeling creeping up his abdomen and clawing at his chest.

Lying with Ben in his arms, Jack can still feel his eyes. They look up at his face, just as intense as they've always been. Their eyes meet. Ben tilts his head and Jack meets him, the kiss hot and slow and filling Jack with the same burning he felt the first time they met, when Ben was bleeding on the Hatch floor under a fake name and Sayid's scrutiny.

Jack lets his eyes close but he can still feel Ben on the other side of them, staring him down even though it's a whole different look now. Hands wander and the spark begins anew, erupting between them into something terrifying and passionate.

Everything is quiet on the Island. The sun is just far enough away to make everyone sweat but it feels good and Jack knows Ben is behind him. He grins when arms slide around his abdomen in a way he wasn't able to enjoy before. "This is our Island." Ben whispers it in Jack's ear, the first thing he's said almost all day; the first thing he's needed to say. Jack turns and kisses Ben, but keeps his eyes open this time. Ben's eyes slip shut for the first time and to Jack, it feels like coming home.

Original Fiction. Jesus.

Sat, 31 Jan 2009 07:13:35 GMT

Title: Shotgun Ontology
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,432
Plot: Ontology - n. A branch of metaphysics concerned with the nature and relationships of being. The Narrator explores his life while bleeding out in the middle of his personal war zone, ignoring the bullets in his body to think back on the man who lead him to where he is now. He recounts the beginning, the middle, and the end in a series of important events between him and his partner, Ben.
Warnings: Nothing too wild, some violence, disturbing themes.
Feedback: I'm pretty sure I'm shockingly amature compared to a lot of people on here, but I'm extraordinarily proud of this and I'd be elated if someone would like to give me a bit of constructive criticism so I can make it better.
Notes: This was originally written for a Creative Writing class I'm in as my first assignment. I couldn't believe this came from me at about eight in the morning, but it's my first draft and I'm disgustingly proud of it for that. I hope you enjoy this, because it's the first original piece I've posted to LiveJournal.

The second you slam back into consciousness you feel pain. It’s white-hot and shooting up your spine, radiating out from your spinal cord and nearly blinding you. Fear turns to led in your stomach and weighs you down from even craning your neck to see if Ben is okay. You can hear shouting in the distance but none of the words are clear. The cold of the concrete beneath you seeps in and starts to numb your skin but the pain doesn’t dull any. You can still feel your weapon in hand, the grip is cracked at the base and covered in sticky, hot fluid. Just swallowing past the lump in your throat causes another wave of pain to crash down and steal your senses. When your eyes open again you can see Ben’s gunmetal blue eyes filled with terror and anger. His lips are moving but you can’t hear because blood is caking the inside of your ears and making everything sound like white noise.

Ben limps off and you want to plead with him to stay. Your mouth opens but it’s like a nightmare because no sound comes out, not even a groan. In the back of your head you know the world is fading away, and you figure that it’s okay to be honest with yourself now because you never managed it in your life before. This is your own fault. Getting tagged, and four times at that. The first one ripped right through your gut, you didn’t feel the other three due to adrenaline. The only thing in your mind then was Ben. This whole thing was all about Ben. You can feel the tears gathering in your eyes but even now refuse to let them fall. It isn’t fair. You’d never been a hero before, you’d promised that you wouldn’t be now. Funny how getting shot is the first thing to put your hypocrisy on display.
______________

When the two of you met you knew that he was going to be nothing but trouble. Ben set of alarm bells in your brain the way only the lowest scum had before, pedophiles and murders sniffed out just because you were a bloodhound when it came to spotting the sick and depraved. The second Ben walked through the door your hackles rose and your chest tightened. You wanted to go for your gun then and there but Joey held you down. He introduced Ben, who just stood there smiling with charming eyes and a serpents tongue. When he held his hand out to you, you hesitated before taking it. There’s a lot you can tell about a man when touching his hand. Firm grip indicates dominance, a firm shake indicates power. Weak grasp is deception, short jerks means discomfort. Ben’s hand told you nothing.

Neither did the man himself. It wasn’t until weeks later when you were on a steak out together that he said more than two words to you. He told you that this was his first time seeing anything close to action, and laughed nervously. If you hadn’t known it was an act it would have been endearing. You called him out on it, told him not to start. That the two of you would never be friends or even colleagues. Ben just looked at you curiously with the tilt of a head and those eyes of his. For a moment, it took your breath away. He smiled and started telling you the truth. He’d been working on his own for a long time, called himself a ‘vigilante’ but not without a grin like everything was a cosmic joke. He told you about women he’d met, men he’d chased down, even fought you over the difference between a killer and a murderer.

"A killer," Ben told you, half turned in the car seat so you were face to face, "is someone who has killed before. Anyone. For any reason. But a murderer, he’s an artist. When he ends a life, it’s calculated, precise, and pristine." You watch the way his eyes light up when he speaks and how Ben will twist his fingers or roll his wrist, cracking the joints in sickening little pops. He’s got a thousand little mannerisms and your eyes are attracted to each of them. He compares the two terms for close to twenty minutes, barely stopping to take a breath. You follow the smooth flow of his voice and after a while his words don’t matter. You stare. He stares back. Suddenly you start to wish he didn’t make sense, because at least then you wouldn’t admire him.

Your first job together turns out to be guard duty at a bank. You keep you hand on your weapon but your eyes stay on Ben. He looks proud and tall. A force to be reckoned with. When screaming starts your attention is drawn away but you’re still aware of him and how Ben will stay right at your side. He never calls out to you, but once or twice you catch him looking and this time it is endearing because his nerves are real. You’re worn out by the time you drag yourself back to the house, and Ben is still right behind you. You’re standing close together in the doorway listening to Shangri La through the wood. Alex is probably dancing in the kitchen while sweeping in her socks waiting for you, because she’s a good kid and you don’t deserve a daughter like her. You light a cigarette and Ben’s eyes follow your fingers.

"Christ, Ben. You're a fucking experience in intensity." Your voice comes out like gravel, scratching from your throat with a kind of hoarseness you’ve never heard from yourself before. "Gonna get us both killed." He looks like he’s going to say something but he just closes his mouth and walks off, deciding against whatever it is. You walk into the house and feel fire crawling up your legs to your brain. Alex greets you with a hug and gives you a look for bringing a cigarette into the house. You know she’s trying to quit so you put it out in the sink and grin, sitting at the table to hear all about her day.

After the bank, you’re the only one Ben will work with, and in time the same grows true for you. For seven years you continue the cycle, at one another’s backs, on steak outs together, you even go out for a drink after the particularly hard days. In those years Alex grows up and starts seeing some boy you don’t approve of before you even meet him, she goes off to college to be a doctor and you can’t be more proud. Ben has girls in and out of his life, none of them ever lasting past two weeks. He won’t tell you why they break up, but it’s obviously never his idea. You ask him about his parents, he asks about the ring you don’t have on your finger. You tell him Alex has always been just yours, and he tells you he never had anyone. "I was a hospital baby. Mom dropped me out, gave a fake name, then disappeared when no one was looking." He doesn’t look sad when he tells the story, but his eyes are glassy with alcohol and it makes you smile because even when Ben is drunk he doesn’t let his emotions take control.

Then you get the call. Stolen cars are littering the warehouse floor in pieces to be packaged and sold off to the highest bidder, there are cops and crooks on both sides and you’re just trying to get to Ben before the shooting starts. You see him take one in the leg, meant to incapacitate. You run. Uniforms are shouting at you, no sudden moves, no sudden moves, but you’ve got to get to Ben and you start firing just to create chaos. Bang bang. The one who tagged Ben is bacon, bleeding like the animal he’s often called. His partner, a feisty little thing with a quick trigger finger and a shiny new badge is the one who tags you first. All hell breaks loose. Bullets are flying everywhere and you take the three you don’t feel, and you can’t tell if they’re from your side or theirs.

The world starts to dim around the edges and your eyes are begging, just for a second, please. Just a little rest. Only for a minute. Only you know the second you do, it’s over. You’ll die. You want the last thing you see to be Ben. It’s irrational and crazy, but you don’t want to die to the image of the ceiling spinning above your head. Your eyes fall shut and the regret feels just as heavy as the pain crushing your chest. Ben.
_____________
Slowly, hazily, you drift to consciousness. It isn’t like the first time, when you were brought back by pain. A beeping sounds beside you and the smell of antiseptic is strong in your nose. Your eyes flutter open and you look around the room feeling disconnected and stuffed full of cotton. Alex is asleep on a red chair next to you, tears drying on her face. Sitting in an identical chair is Ben, crutches leaning against the table that separates the two. There’s a book in his lap and his eyes glued to the pages. You can tell he’s desperately trying to focus and failing miserably.

"You look awful." Ben looks up at you with shock, then relief, then anger. "I told you to stay put, idiot. What were you thinking?" You laugh, partly because Ben is cute when he's riled up, partly because your morphine drip is really kicking in. It wakes Alex up and she starts crying again, throwing herself on you. Patting her head you promise you're alright and ask her how she found out. She tells you Ben called her as soon as you got to the hospital and she's been with you this entire time. Ben only recently resurfaced, having to run after the ambulance got to the warehouse with a police escort. Joey had been taken in and was being indicted. There were handcuffs keeping you chained to the bed, but only on your left side. The nurses were counting on the morphine to keep you shot up and complacent, and they were right for the most part.

Ben tells you that you're going to need to get out, the both of you. You're cop killers, and if they don't seek the death penalty, you'll definitely be away for life. Ben argues where to go and how to get there every step of the way. He's difficult, nearly belligerent and you can tell it's only because he's afraid. Finally, Alex interrupts the two of you with a sigh. She tells you she knows how to get you out and you yell. You spit and scream and snarl because you worked too hard for her to be kept separate from this life for her to go under for aiding and abetting you and Ben. She rolls her eyes the way she always has and tells you it doesn't matter, because either way she's not leaving you. You try to keep the tears of pride from your eyes and fight some more but Alex has made up her mind and unfortunately, you didn't raise her to back down, even against you.

Alex takes out her cell phone and calls in a bomb threat to the hospital once you're healthy enough to leave. The sirens go off a moment later and people start rushing despite the orderlies pleas for a calm, procedural exit. Ben picks the lock on your handcuffs and they help you out of bed. You stopped your morphine drip a day ago and your body hurts like hell but you couldn't afford to be high. In the confusion it's easy to slip out unnoticed, and even grab a few bottles of pain killers from the unattended pharmacy. It doesn't matter that the camera sees your faces because by the time they figure it out, the three of you will be long gone.

___________

In the car on the way to the small air strip Joey owned, you smile at your daughter from the back seat. She's sitting up front in the old station wagon with Ben, who's got the radio on some station playing golden oldies. You're not dying anymore, but you offer yourself one last moment of truth. "I love you both."

You end up in a sunny place with no extradition laws and beaches stretching all over. Alex is seeing some surfer boy who talks with a laid back accent and rarely wears a shirt, and again you disapprove but this time you'll let it go if only because you owe her. You live in a house that's right on the beach, the sounds of the ocean every night lulling you to sleep. It's peaceful, beautiful. You never thought you'd be cut out for this kind of laziness, but apparently it's what you were made for. Ben saved up from every heist you ever pulled, and now you were set for life.

A beach towel and a book are your entertainment for the afternoon, listening to symphonic rock on a tiny junker of a radio Alex bought a month ago as her and Tija attempt to ride a wave together-and wipe out for the third time. A shadow falls over you and before you can lower your sunglasses a fraction of an inch, wetness rains down on your face. You take the sunglasses off to glare up at Ben, who is grinning and running off, kicking up sand that sticks to your face now that it's wet. He makes a bee line for the shore and you kick off your sandals getting off the towel. You lose your tank top following him into the water, tackling him under a wave.

You come up together breathing heavily with a playfulness you haven't felt in too long, age rolling off you with the ocean. Ben tugs you close and kisses you softly, one of a thousand he's given you since getting here but the first one that made your heart stop beating.

Rarely had your instincts let you down before, but somehow Ben managed to get past your defenses without saying a word, and ripped down all your walls with a single kiss. You think that maybe, he is one of the things you've been cut out for all along.

My theories on LOST, Kate, and WBICTY

Thu, 01 Jan 2009 05:42:53 GMT

For those of you who didn't follow the transition, I'm a LOST fan now. Yup. I've joined the dark side. And thank God, because they have Michael Emerson. As far as small favors go, that was about a ten. On a scale of five.

So in the last two weeks I overloaded on LOST, packing seasons one through four in just about the most linear time line I could manage between "obtaining" season one, buying season two, and receiving seasons three and four as gifts. Thank God I held off until the holidays because that was a piss load of money.

Of course, the one to blame for this sudden switch into the fandom made entirely of questions is, as per usual, napalmiris</lj>. She's a whore, folks. A cutthroat little pixie that'll get me into just about anything if she thinks it'll result in fanfiction for her. -rolls eyes-

I really have gotten swept up by the hype, though. LOST is fun, not just because it's to date the only show I watch that doesn't suck by the third season, but because it really makes you think. You'll get an answer to one question, but from that at least four new ones pop up, making me part of the speculation spectrum.

For those of you who watch, you know how season four left off and were probably just as irked as me about the whole, "WTF NOW?!" vibe we were stranded with. Personally, I don't think John kicked the bucket. C'mon, he's been dead how many times now? The man is Highlander. But, again, if you're like me, you've been looking for the clips from S5-as few and far between as they seem to be, and please, if anyone knows of ones other than the ones I mention in this not-blog, let me know!-then you'll know what I mean when I say I think that John and Ben are in it together. The hotel room scene with Ben and Jack was....intoxicating, but also off-kilter. There was something in the way Ben was moving that set off my sneaky bastard alarm, even if all he was doing was unpacking a suit(oh, and squee to the fact that Ben bought Jack a suit, holy SHIT). It just read strange to me.

And while we're in WTFistan, Kate adopting Aaron?! What the shit, man? She is the exact opposite of motherly, and yeah, I know that leaving him on the island seemed like torture, but Jesus! Giving him to KATE? Why not just say that his mother was one of the survivors but died giving birth? Give the kid to his grandmother.

There have been a lot of female characters who I have ranted and raved about, but never have I just fucking instantly and thoroughly detested a woman like I did Kate. She's flat, one dimensional eye candy for the men or something, and her constant flip flopping back and forth between Jack and Sawyer is the most annoying part of the show. I thought it would finally be over when she slept with Sawyer on Hydra island, but NOOO. That was just the beginning of hell, as far as I'm concerned. In a flashforward in season four, Jack asks Kate to MARRY HIM. After she blatantly ignored his well being to have cagesex with Sawyer, after trying to get him to run-and abandon Jack completely. I think what bothers me most is the fact that Kate pretends so much that she doesn't even know who she is anymore. So, while talking to napalmiris</lj>, I came up with an idea of the kind of woman Kate is;

"Kate is in love with the idea of being in love with a good guy, but she can't keep her pants on when it comes to the bad boy because ever since she turned outlaw, she got used to the idea that those were the only men she'd be with. And she was right. Even though she'd probably lose some of her annoying tendencies and the whining/bitching personality facade if she just went it alone for a while instead of mirroring her trailer trash past-which she tries so hard to escape-by living her mother's mistakes while pretending she's a different person."

Kate is really fucking annoying in the way she's played, but thankfully, we have the ultimate pickmeup for the show. Ben.

Ben is a fucking evil genius mastermind. I'm convinced of that fact, have been since he was Fenry in S2, for Chrissakes. I don't think I've ever fallen in love with a character this quickly before, but the man is a mind fuck personified. Ben Linus is everything I've imagined an evil mastermind to be, but he isn't that evil when you look at things from his perspective. Of all people, I think, Jack should be the one he emphathizes with the most. Both of them not only know what it's like to be a leader, but what it's like to watch your people die, or disobey you, or do something that's just incredibly stupid. I think this will lead to an interesting alliance between the two in season five because even Anne fuckin' Frank can see that they're for crazy for eachother.

I mean, what?

Anyway, those are my theories. For those who didn't get it, WBICTY means 'Why Ben is Cooler than You' and it's my official slogan. I'll be printing rubber bracelets this weekend. Natch.

As far as lives go-mine is nonexistant.

Tue, 19 Aug 2008 06:47:43 GMT

Hey there kids, time for more fun ranting with Madame X! Oh the things we'll be covering this time after nearly four months of no blogging:

My social life and how I've detached from it, celebrity heart break and how I fell in love with a traitor, The Dark Knight (will be chuck full of spoilers-THIS IS YOUR WARNING) and why Christopher Nolan is my new God, my bitchification-Ash's reaction and my current squeezes, the death of 'ol faithful and my new friend Jarvis, and finally my excitement at being top side of the legal system.

Can Mme. X come out and play? - So I have all the friends and this legion of people subservient to me but I never leave my pathetic little apartment. Since a near and dear bounded off to college last Saturday I haven't spoken to anyone outside of Ash, and I have the feeling that it's going stay like that. Little by little I've been phasing out the people around me and it's actually working for me a lot better than anything else before. I've had a nearly stress free summer and guess what? When I was stressed out, there was always the common factor of other people. Outsiders.

People I wanted nothing to do with that just kept fucking showing up in my life. Ash pointed out after a mental breakdown one night that whenever I'm around other people I come home feeling like shit because they're all just a lot of manipulative assholes. I'm done with their shit and that's just the end of this. I know it sounds a little pessimistic, and a little bit like teenage angst, but uh, I think it's the healthiest thing I can do. Fuck hanging out with people who just stress me out and are on totally different levels than me anyway. Turns out all I need is my books, my movies, and my Ash. Sound like a plan?

Per meus vinco ego sum proditor - Okay, a little random Latin never hurt anyone. It means 'by my master I am betrayed' and yeah, maybe I'm taking my not-life a little too seriously here but stop me when I'm crazy. So I've been a geek my whole life-born into a family of them and brought up and 90's kid, so comic books were part of my upbringing. Like most-I survived on Batman. TDK needless to say, was my GODSEND. I have never wanted to see a movie so badly before in my entire life and I've never reacted the way I did. This is just a set up. In recent months I've developed what most would call a 'celebrity bumcrush' on one of the most amazing men I've ever known. Robert Downey Jr. I couldn't tell you what it is about him that draws me in so hard, but he is so perfect. He's witty, beautiful, brilliant, talented, and so much more.

Honestly, I can wax poetic about Robert until the sun explodes and here is where we hit our road block. Apparently there was some bullshit interview with a movie website where RDJ seemed to be playing the role of a prima donna douche bag when it came to TDK's success. Now I can understand being a little bitter considering TDK is the second highest gross in the US box-office (only under fucking Titanic which is a whole other box of bitch I don't feel like opening right now, suffice to say I'm sick of people treating that movie like it's the fucking Godfather -rolls eyes- Like romance movies were ever that great to begin with, thanks for wasting three and a half hours of my life on that one, Cameron you fucking twat) but a seasoned actor like Robert going to a pre-teen heartthrob level of bitchiness? There was a move I totally didn't see coming.

I still don't know if I can take it seriously, or if it even happened because as a devout student of Robert's works I just didn't hear his voice ringing through the article, I couldn't see him saying something so just....absolutely bitchy. I don't know where I stand right now, but I can't just turn my back on my loyalties any more than I can give up my left foot.

My orgasm; it's broken - The Dark Knight is breaking all sorts of records everywhere and it certainly holds a few of my own. Along with staying on top for three weeks, breaking the opening weekend record, and earning itself a number two spot on the all time US box office, TDK is being hailed with critics as amazing, brilliant, and an absolute joy (but what the fuck isn't these days? Jesus.) but what they don't tell you is the true brilliance. If all the financial proof isn't enough for you, allow me to enlighten.

SPOILERS HERE PEOPLE-I'M NOT SAYING IT AGAIN. SERIOUSLY. ENTIRE MOVIE RIGHT. DON'T WANNA SEE IT-DON'T READ IT

The Dark Knight begins in Gotham City during the day-picking up six months after the events of Batman Begins. It's the middle of the day and we as an audience are treated to the sight of masked clowns breaking a window out of an abandoned office building. This movie starts out with the kind of action you expect from old school crime films (gee, kinda like, Iunno, Heat?!) and keeps it going through out the entire two and a half hours. The introduction of the Joker was nothing theatrical, and somehow that made it all the more spectacular. The production of TDK left nothing to be desired and honestly just fucking blew the brains out of the skulls of those of us sitting in the back. Nothing to say of the length-the only conceivable gripe I can have with this piece of Heaven in my personal hell is the fact that for a realistic Batman movie-it had to be rated PG-13. Some adult content would've been nice but we all know better than that. :(

The character development for TDK was nothing less than fucking masterful-by which I mean the fact that Nolan managed to give you a man like the Joker with no history and no motive other than a desperation to show people how fucked up their idea of 'normal' was, and make you fall in fucking love with him was...damn. And let's not over look the white knight, Harvey Harvey Harvey Dent. What can't I say about this man who just swept in and stole hearts, replacing them with hope for humanity? Or something like it, at any rate. Harvey Dent-or half way through the movie Two-Face-plays not only a hero, but a not-villain. A man who only wants equality in corruption and squalor more than any man in the city-including the infamous Batman. When his life is taken away from him as a denizen of Gotham and his lovely Ms. Dawes is killed tragically in a fireball (I know I'm not the only one that cheered Goddammit, but I might've been the only one who cracked a soda), Harvey listened to the only person he had left. The Joker filled Harvey in on the new life and what he'd have to look forward to-planted the idea in his head that there were schemers out there to be taken care of. Hence, I walked away with my OOTP; Joker/Dent FTW.

Batman was developed as a twisted fuck with mommy and daddy issues-just like Nolan promised. Realistic. Human. The way his coy remarks to Alfred bore bitter truth in a sort of in-your-face irony kind of way was probably just about the best damn thing I've ever seen in a movie. The moments when he wondered if he was doing the right thing or not were overridden by what he knew to be true-Gotham needed the Batman like they needed fresh water and food, he wasn't just a symbol anymore, he was their main lifeline. With the help of Gordon, Harvey, and even the Joker, the Batman swallowed his malcontent, and kept on being what he needed to be. Bloody hands and everything. TDK shows what it means to be a hero, and what it means to be something so much more than that.

Christopher Nolan could not have done a better job of working the script. The dialogue moved at a smooth pace and was just enough to let you know what you needed to know without giving everything away. The kind of storytelling that reminds you of what it means to think and to want. His direction no doubt made TDK exactly the bite of ecstasy it was, but it showed us all what a good fucking movie is. Over all, there was nothing over-the-top or pretentious about TDK that wasn't explained by the situation or excused by the character. Nolan did justice to Batman and to the fans, making up for all the shit we've had to suffer through for the last four fucking movies. Nolan, I present to you my soul, over easy, and a side of toast, you ingenious English fuck.

Go Team Domestic! - I have a fucking dog collar. And I don't mean that in a metaphoric sense, I literally have a collar made for a canine with Ash's name and number on it. I've been officially tagged and taken from the wild. It started as a joke between Ash and I from a dream I had after too much Chinese one night. I told the dream to a friend of mine and after running off with my phone in Walmart for twenty minutes, he came back with a dog collar and a tag. Slipping it around my neck I realized that I'd been effectively fucked. Ash's reaction? She fucking died. She hasn't stopped laughing about it since, and honestly? I've been wearing the collar. I'm pretty much her bitch anyway so I figured we might as well put some legit proof to the mythos.

I've been a busy little bee for the past few months, writing numerous things and falling in and out of love with people-my current obsession aside from Batman? Venture Brothers. Fucking weird, right? Of all the things I could have a hard on over, it's this weird fucking cartoon. I haven't laughed so hard at an animated show since Family Guy though, so I think it's about damn time. Of course, being a rabid slash fangirl-I've been creating pairings left and right in this fandom. Of course my OTP is Brock/Rusty because who doesn't like bitchy old men and angry blond bodyguards? Seriously, it's like, a match made in hell or something to that effect. It's perfect.

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound - Two weeks ago my desktop computer had a spazz attack and died. After hours of tinkering with her, I finally figured out the problem. My hard drive was completely fried. Nixed, 86ed, and way beyond being fixed. Talk about a huge pain in the ass. I lost everything I was working on, everything I'd ever done, all my photos and icons, and best of all, my favorite fiction folders. Can anyone say hysterical sobbing?

Anyway, with the death of Abernathy, brought new hope. I'd like everyone to meet Jarvis, my brand new beautiful Acer laptop. He's my sweetheart, and he's been running like a dream. Totally making my life easy and I swear a human shouldn't love a laptop and I'm not promoting technophilia, but fuck. I'd bang him if I could. And yes, I think I'm Tony Stark. Hence the homage of a name.

Legal tender baby - In three days on August 21st, I turn eighteen years old. FUCKING SWEET! I'll have a clean slate and I'll be able to buy my own cigarettes. I can now write and read porn without feeling guilty. How neat is that? Not that I still won't act like a fucking twelve year old. I still love stupid movies and for the sake of FUCK perverted humor makes me giggle like a little girl. Point is, now I get to be an adult while acting like a child because 18 gets me tobacco and freedom from the house but it's not quite 21, so I can still get away with the naive act. Sometimes, anyway.

If I had a choice, you'd all be fucked.

Sun, 25 Nov 2007 23:52:32 GMT

Woo! I broke my own pattern here and waited SEVEN weeks to start blogging agian! Someone needs to strike my ass down or something.

Shit I'll be going over/bitching about this time:

My lack of moral fiber and why my Creative Writing class will kill me, Hitman and Robert Knepper's beauty, Prison Break update and a long holier-than-thou rant about late blooming and hiatus's, more of my ex and why I think he's funny, my inability to leave the house with my friends and not come back with a crushed something, and why Torchwood makes my heart ow.

Morals and Assignments - Well, every single one of my faithful readers from last time-all two of you-know that I had an assignment in Creative Writing to make my own faerie tale, and I turned it into Alice in Wonderland's Fucked Up Nightmare. Well, my lovely teacher decided this time that we'd be making a grade for the entire semester and putting it on one assignment. 'Fish Out of Water.' That was the prompt for this particular piece. Well, as you can imagine, I started to get a bit....excited. By the end of the first rough draft, I had a 12 page monstrosity about a guy from Wall street ending up in, yes-you knew this was coming, PRISON. I know, I know, I'm going to hell. And let me tell you, there was no small amount of hackery on my part if only because I was building it up to the ultimate homage. Well, despite the fact that I have no moral fiber whatsoever-which lead to the main character being raped and brutalized twice before being set free and tortured by his bitch of a wife-I thought it turned out good but my fucking teacher picks now to dote upon her personal life. She made me cut down this wonderful monster to nine pages, and while that's only threes difference, the pain that shot up my spine while I was erasing what I'd actually worked hard on was just....indescribable. Maybe at some point I'll post the full version here.

Rubber Ducky, You're the One - Okay, so Hitman. What can I say about it that hasn't already been said? First off, I'm not a fan of the games, in fact, I'd never even heard of it before I knew Robert Knepper was going to be in the movie. So I was prompted to go and see it, and HOLY FUCK. Seeing Robert Knepper strut around with all his familiar self-assurance he uses in roles of power was enough but then busting out the Russian accent? I'm not going to lie, I melted into a puddle of useless goo against my best friend-whom was laughing at me the entire time. I'm not going to ruin the end of the movie, but I will say that seeing him, bloody and desperate and wet just about made my life worth living. Good news for the slash fangirls, there are a few choice scenes where we're tossed different bones, and as everyone knows, I can't resist. I've already written a drabble for it and am already thinking of a longer-smuttier-fic to companion it. I swear, there is NOTHING that I won't slash when given the proper incentive.

Fucking Temperamental Writers - Alright, so the last time I left off I'd only seen up to 3.03 - Call Waiting. Well since then we've made it all the way to 3.08 - Bang and Burn and the entire fandom has gone off it's fucking rocker. 3.04 - Good Fences was probably PB writer's gift to the fanslashers because HOLY FUCKING HELL. There has never been so much ghei in an episode of television programming since Spock admitted his forbidden for Kirk. The fanbase reaction was just the same. Sara is dead(and yes, there were trumpets playing at that particular moment in time)and Michael has become one giant humming ball of angst. Mahone still has all our hearts in a vice grip because of his just utterly pathetic display in the court and hotel rooms, and Lincoln is apparently smarter than some of the fans give him credit for. The brothers are fighting, Sucre FINALLY gave up on Maricruz-for the moment-and even Bellick is getting some spotlight on his name as being an alright sort of guy. T-Bag isn't getting nearly enough screen time but FUCK does Robert Knepper have screen presence because it's still enough to drive all of us wild. Hopefully he'll be back to running his old tricks soon because-and I know this ain't just me-he's looking a little too....erm....straight for being in prison once again. In all layman's terms, I want him to start hitting on Michael again, because dammit, someone has to! Lechero has been on top and then demoted and it's like shit is falling apart consequentally to Michael's plans-but fuck it ain't like we're not already used to this. See, my problem with it is the fact that I came in late to the PB fanbase, so both seasons one and two I had to watch straight through on DVD. This is my first hiatus and as a self-proclaimed super fan, it's FUCKING KILLING ME. And so help me if the writers fuck up on the re-date and push it beyond January 14th I'm going to go to the station myself and start fucking up some faces.

Dayne's New Girl and My Short Temper - So a few weeks ago I get this message from Dayne's new girlfriend about a comment I left him regarding his little...accident from the last blog. Well, for about two or three messages she's spitting shit at me telling me off and just babbling on about how there's only one God and how Dayne never wants to talk to me again. Well I ran into that infamous bastard at Walmart just last night. We talked and I asked him what was up and he says he has no idea she was even talking to me, much less spitting all this shit at me. I'm actually feeling a lot better now that I know he hasn't turned into a classic dick on me, and that I've officially warned him about what's coming if he doesn't keep that bitch under his thumb.

"Hospital please?" - Okay, so I have this propensity to go off and do shit when I get breaks with my friends. Well, Wednesday we made a day of it. Double feature at the movies-Hitman and the Mist-and then Dominos afterwards. Well, during this time I was knocked down, beat up, slammed around and at one point molested into submission against the sticky movie theater floor. My pelvis was crushed in the Dominos parking lot because my friend decided to sit on my lap in the back of her van to watch Ms. Congeniality while we were waiting on the pizzas. Well, when she tried to get out she slid and ended up burying her knee in the side of my hip and effectively crushed my pelvis. All the while we're all laughing and joking and having a fucking blast because we've all been working hard as hell at school and ect. so it was a bang up time. I spent my Thanksgiving fucked up on ibuprofen and turkey. It has been one hell of a break and aside from the bruises and trouble breathing, I hope it'll happen again over Christmas.

Captain Jack Harkness - Okay, so the last episode of Torchwood was one of those heartbreaking episodes. Jack Harkness meets Jack Harkness. Jack and Jack fall in love in the short amount of time they know one another but for totally different reasons. We learn that the more we know the less we've got because Jack Harkness of Torchwood is kinda a stingy bitch when it comes to information sharing. Ianto's crush on the captain is brought to light-even after the Stopwatch business two episodes ago-by the ever so twatly Owen Harper, who's being a bit of a bitch this episode because he's pining and hurt and blah, blah, blah. Tosh is apparently afraid of everything, even when she's being hit on by several guys at once and the 1940's will never be the same. I have to say that even for a hardass like me, the dance shared between Jack and his counterpart was...well, frankly heart wrenching. The snog at the end, as all snogs do, made everything worth it, even if you did kinda wanna cry. By the by, twenty points to Ianto for actually shooting Owen in the shoulder, even if it should've been in the trachea.

Alright, I'm sure I'll be back in some undetermined amount of time to bitch some more about everything that goes on here, and maybe even with writing or something like that to remind the lot of you why you're at least scoping me out. Thanks for your time.

Holy Marching Faggots, Batman, she's blogging!

Sat, 06 Oct 2007 22:58:19 GMT

Another six-week wait to see what's going on. God I'm a twat.

Shit I'll be going over this blog/journal:
My language hasn't improved(the twat exclusive), Hot Fuzz/Shaun of the Dead, American Gangster the novelization and I read too much everything, Prison Break will KILL YOUR ASS, my ex and why I like him, Torchwood and OTPs, and why I'm straight on the road to hell because of fairy tales.

Language - So, I've got a foul fucking mouth. I mean seriously, you've all go no idea how bad my language really is, because I'm relatively tame on the 'net so long as I'm not too pissed-I've made a point to stop blogging when I'm pissed because a bunch of bullshit comes out and I regret most of it later-but for some reason in real life when I'm speaking, I just 'fuck shit piss bitch cunt twat damn hell' and 'cock' it up. I can't understand what the big deal about the words is, but apparently they offend people who aren't used to them. Well, fuck those fucking twat bitches, because my words are my choice, right? Not my fault some tightwads can't get it up enough to get laid and loosen their cunts a bit. So I shall continue to use 'naughty' language and laugh my metaphorical balls off every time someone yells at me and tells me I've got a filthy mouth.

Hot Fuzz/Shaun of the Dead - Okay, so it took a lot of prodding from my best friend for me to finally see these fucking movies, and now that I have I'm shocked that I waited for so long. Like 'Kiss Kiss Bang Bang', I couldn't stop laughing the entire way though Hot Fuzz, and Shaun of the Dead was amazing in all the right places. If you haven't seen either of these movies, do it now because it's totally worth it. Nicholas Angel is possibly the best cop character I've seen in a movie, because normally they're pricks and I hate them-real life and cinematically. Amazingly enough the violence was enough to make me shiver and squeal, and still crave more. Only one part in each film made me actually look away and cringe, but after I got over the shock of seeing someone being ripped to shreds while still alive and seeing another guy get his head smashed in by a spire I re-wound it about thirty or forty fuckin' times. Y'know, I always forget how fucking awesome British Comedy is because of the hiatus' I take. But they're both well worth it, definitely.

American Gangster/Reading habits - Okay, so I bought this book with all intent of cracking it straight open and reading. Well, I'm only on chapter one and let me tell you, it's damned near impossiable to keep my slash muscle on straight. I'm already doing things I damned well shouldn't, and know I shouldn't, but JESUS. They're giving me no choice here, really. But fuck all if it isn't fun. I've also been reading my ass off lately as I usually do in school. From Ironside to Son of the Mob, I've been popping books like gobstoppers. Ironside was BITCHIN', by the by. Some sexual tension realized that really was in need, and a fanfiction coming from it because I'm a dyke/douche/twat/whatever else you can call me. Son of the Mob was alright, it had that romance that I don't really like but it was still a neat little book. Good for someone just looking for mafia fiction without all the classy resonance of something...y'know...classy. Fuck all if I plan on quitting any time soon, but I think I should take a break from the books, because as we all know it's damned near impossiable to find fanfiction on fiction and even more of a pain in the ass to write your own when you're as lazy as I am and unwilling to copy the style of the book.

Prison Break - So, season three started recently. Only three episodes in and I've already gone and busted a fanfiction nut and found a new OTP. Lecheddy(moniker courtesy of that unholy twat Ashton whom I love) is definitely the worst thing I've ever shipped, but damn if they don't make it too easy. I know some people are behind me so I'm not going to ruin anything from the episodes, but Christ wagons. It's been a good season, and come Monday, everyone in America will know if it's the greatest season ever or be really pissed off. Fuck you, MiSa shippers, no one likes you. Michael is turning into a woman and I'm wondering if he needs a tampon because it looks like it's the Scofield time of the month. Alex's infamous totally-gay-but-great-hair moment came early in the season, first episode, but it's not gonna be the last. Now, I could go on and on about Lincoln, but I'll leave it at this: he ain't as dumb as we seem to think. Jodi Lyn O'Keefe is FUCKING BEAUTIFUL and I want to bone her as Susan Bitch, but I think I'll leave that until the season finale. To cut this short, season three isn't as big a disappointment as it could've been, but all questions will be answered with this next week as to weather I'll keep watching as good-natured as I have been.

Dayne - Okay, so yeah, I may still love the guy. But not in that 'I want to bang you and bear your babies' way. I think I'm finally over him romantically. I got the chance to see him again today when he got into an accident. Car accident caused by a FUCKING COP. Now you understand why I don't like them. The cop turns on his lights and speeds up to avoid getting stuck at a red light. The woman in front of Dayne slams on her breaks, and his ain't so well so he rear ends her. She's a little bumper banged, and his car is all kinds of cocked up in the front. Poor baby. He didn't realize I was standing there, watching the entire thing while he pulled in behind the woman he hit, the cop following. This fucking pig pins all the blame on Dayne, and he's gonna have to get an attorney and shit. I went over to see him and we talked for a few minutes. The entire time he was grinning at me like I was the worst possible witness to this grievance, and I remembered why I was attracted to him in the first place. Jesus Christ, I hate cops.

Torchwood/OTP hell - I have a Jack/Ianto limb. LIMB. Torchwood is one of the cutest and frustrating series I've seen in the last few years, and because of this I'm attracted on all levels. Jack/Ianto seems to be the general consensus, but there are those party crashers who think Jack belongs with Gwen or even Tosh. -rolls her eyes- Why to these het fans have to destroy everything beautiful? So far I'm like, three or five episodes in, so I don't know too much about the series, but I do like it. Hopefully it'll come out on DVD before season two starts, because I know I'm far behind. I wanna at least know what's who by the time we get to that glorious second season, even if I have spoiled the ending for myself. My OTP's are getting all screwed up in my head, which is bad because the point of having an OTP is the shipping of ONE. I think we're all breaking that rule though, so fuck off. It's still fun.

Pavement to Hell - My teacher is a blessed angel of blackened hell. She has assigned us a project to write our own fairy tale twists to classics. I've chosen 'Snow White and Rose Red' from the Grimm Brothers. Wouldn't you know it, I'm the one with the boner for slash in class. I've turned the girls to boys, the princes to thief's, and the totally platonic relationships into hellishly tragic fuck ups. I'm turning all this in to my teacher, and while no one out-and-out makes gay love, it's pretty fucking obvious because of the blatant holding in the end that nothing is platonic in my sick little mind. Twincest, underage, and even almost-beastality in this fucking ill willed fairy tale I've created make for one of the best things I've ever written. Maybe I'll tag it up on a journal some day, but until then you'll all have to just take my word for it-I'm a fucking degenerate and I'm mucking up happily ever after.

That's pretty much all I'm going to say for now because I'm tired of writing this fucking thing. I've been at it for a shade over half and hour, and I think you're all bored with me anyway. I'll be back whenever the fuck. See you all next blog.

It's been forever-I'm not dead yet

Tue, 21 Aug 2007 06:14:01 GMT

Haha! 'Kay so, I bet everyone thought I was dead! Not quite yet. Everyone being the like, three people who are watching me.

'Kay, so, Prison Break mania has officially hit me, and damn does it sting. Quite obviously, I've been favorting everything that strikes my fancy, and I've been writing a lot of fanfiction. I'd join a community but I have a confession to make. I don't know how to do fake cuts.

If someone could help me, maybe, then I'd have a lot more fun here. I need a tutorial or something, because I'm a fucking moron.

So it's my birthday today, hurah. Glorious age 17, not really caring.

I've seen the season three promo, just like everyone else, and am FREAKING OUT. Prison Break is gonna get a lot heavier. I absolutely can not wait. SEPTEMBER, WHY DOST THOU TAUNT?!

So, I'm also waiting for the new movie, Hitman, which will have the glorious Mr. Knepper in it. Anyone else notice that fangirls will sit through something they know will be shitty just for an actor they love? It seems to me fangirls have an iron will. What's more, if they really like their actor's character, the rest of the movie could suck and it'll still be on their top five. *coughcough*TheIsland*coughcough*

I got a PSP! Yay! Sorry, just thought I'd share that joy, as well.

Anyway, I'm starting to do screencaps-thank God for a new computer-and am wearing my PBS1 DVD's to rot. Did I mention the writing? Yeah, I'm going to hell by the time all this is over, I promise you.

Anyway, so I'm getting back into music like I was, but movies are still top priority. I'm addicted to Gobstoppers-tasty little bastards that they are-and I'm also going down the Anime path again. I just bought Outlaw Star--the Entire Collection for about $34. I'm pretty much broke, but I've still found the time to save up cash for the PBS2 DVD's and the companion book. Ain't I amazing?

Anyway, back to the helping me part of the rant, if you don't mind, I'd love it if someone could lend a hand with fake cuts and anything else you think will be helpful.

Kill Point is a growing obsession, I haven't missed one episode and grew rather attached to Mouse, but in the next episode I fear they'll be taking him off the regiment. I'm beyond pissed about it(why is it always /my/ favorite?)but what's gotten me MORE riled up is the fact that there seems to be a new crew of Wolf/Chloe shippers. WHAT THE FUCK?! We just /had/ to ruin a perfectly good thing by adding that back-assward romance, didn't we?

It's become a growing trend to destroy perfectly good plot lines with some idiotic romantic notion or love affair to appease the fat assed idealists and dreamers. The social decline in today's media is going to be the death of true art and storytelling, I promise you that. When the fuck did we become a Disney society anyway? I'm not saying we should be completely Romeo and Juliet about the endings of series and movies, but let's just cut the love bullshit out all together when it has no place!

And if we could get some writers who WON'T create women who use convenient plot devices created at the end of every episode and just stick with a fucking character while we're at it, I'd be over-fucking-joyed with my life.

Okay, I think that's just about all that I have to say for now. I'll try to keep this journal up and alive with my social commentary and day-to-day bullshit, but no expectations. I'm about as reliable as the Bush administration.

Thanks for reading.