steady rollin'

[FIC] Batman - Batman/Joker - The Frayed Ends

2009-11-21T01:43:04Z

Spam! Wrote this not long after TDK came out but never posted it. Since the evil twin just wrote Joker/Scarecrow with similar elements, I knew I had to post it as the same time as hers or I'd never do it. Team Porn does Arkham. Arharhrh.

The Frayed Ends
Batman. Batman/Joker. R. ~1000 words. Nolanverse. Violence.
Darkness gathers into a swarm around them and Bruce doesn’t want to let the bastard take one more goddamn breath.

The Frayed Ends

“You missed me, I’m touched.”

The mask frames the very edges of Bruce’s vision as he strangles the Joker’s words to a sputtering cough.

“How many bombs did you spread around Gotham?” The harshness of his own voice grates in Bruce’s mind, and he struggles against the wavering sensation of not being in full control of himself. His grip loosens enough for Joker to suck in a quick, hiccupping breath, and he shifts his hold up under the hinge of Joker’s jaw to drive him back a half-dozen paces. Padded walls deaden the sound of the impact into a dull, unsatisfying thump. “How many?”

The sick green of fluorescent lighting steals away the shadows in the narrow cell, and Joker’s eyes are startling white in sockets darkened more by sleep deprivation than the smear of old makeup. “Tattling is for naughty little boys. You have plenty of time to find my goodies all by your lonesome. And you are lonesome, after all, here you are for playtime with me.”

“One way or another you’ll tell me what I want to know.” Gasoline pours through Bruce’s veins, stinging and potent, ready to flare up and fill the air with the meaty-crunch of shattered bones.

“What you really want to know is how it is that you and I have come to be here, so far on the opposite ends of the string and yet, our frayed ends keep getting all tangled up.” Joker's bound hands flutter at his sides like confetti and he splits a Cheshire grin as his gaze sneaks towards the door to the cell. A lazy blink and he fixates anew on the naked, expressionless line of Bruce’s lips.

“The targets. How many?”

“Don’t you wonder? Don’t you flap your little bat-wings in a futile battle against the desire to know.” Joker struggles then, his own useless fight, and the dangling canvas straps of his straitjacket flap in the stale air. He laughs, dry as winter leaves, and his tongue swipes obscenely pink at the raw redness of his lips. “You should ask yourself instead how many men like us even exist. There are more than you'd think who stand outside of society, each of them a precious little snowflake who dances to their own tune, but we, you and I, we make such beautiful music.”

Bruce doesn’t have time for this. Gotham strains at its limits, and there’s no comfort in knowing the mastermind rots in Arkham when his psychotic playmates cavort in the streets.

“They’re afraid of you.” Joker leans forward, his throat pressing against the straining ache of Bruce’s knuckles. His breath leaks out with a whisper. “It’s a perfect comedy, isn’t it; how much they fear you when you’re so miserably predictable.”

“How many?” The skin showing through sweat-smeared paint turns ruddy. Moisture builds in Joker’s eyes.

Darkness gathers into a swarm around them and Bruce doesn’t want to let the bastard take one more goddamn breath.

“Almost had me there. Almost.” Joker lolls his head to the side gasping, mouth thinning on a wheezing laugh. The clumped strands of his hair shiver as a tremor seizes the whole of his body. A part of Bruce that’s drowning seeks to steady him, but Batman has no sympathy for murderers. “Almost had your answer, too. Our experiences are ineffable you see, and while I could put myself into your little prison of false morality and social flagellation as easily as you could give in to the freedom of mine, you’re the only one who would feel as if he’d lost something irreplaceable in the process. Can’t ever go back to being a virgin, right, Batty? But eye to eye, eye for an eye, how far will you go to save Gotham from itself?”

“As far as I need to.”

“Now that’s funny!” Joker snarls as he lunges forward, spittle flecking his lips. “You’ll never go far enough, because Gotham by the virtue of its very nature can’t be saved. The blind can’t lead the blind until mayhem tears their eyelids off. They’re chained in the cave, nothing but a flock of stumbling sacrificial lambs with their throats open to the slaughter, but the thing is, the trick is, they like it that way. The wolves keep everyone else in line, you understand, and the sun behind them is too terrifying.”

Bruce slams Joker back, knocks the wind out of him to silence him for a heartbeat or two, but he can’t tune it all out when the diatribe resumes.

“The thing they all fear the most is their own deep, dark, dirty little secret: they’re all ugly and cruel and vicious and they know it. Every last one of them has that sparkling little nugget of truth in them like a kinder toy. You’re the same, one more muddy snowflake, only while everyone else in the city is huddled on the ground and lost in the sludge, you think you’re still falling.”

“Falling,” Bruce echoes.

“All the way down, down, down.” Joker twists his head, lips smearing a lewd kiss against the blades laying flat in Bruce’s gauntlets. His eyes are fire and chaos and broken-winged birds. He slumps back with a high-pitched titter and arrogance in the jagged, bloodied curve of his mouth. Without an ounce of defeat in him, he says: “There are three little ticking tin-men all wound up and spinning in circles. You’ll find them in the places you least want to tread. Get ready for a show, Bats.

"Talk to the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker, and when you’re done, when you're ready to face yourself and be reborn, I’ll be here for you.”

*

End

[ART] Steve & Tony Warmup Drawing

2009-11-20T22:34:02Z

Just a little something to get me in the groove for doing homework. Done without access to my usual brushes so there are several big things that make me go DDDD:, but I didn't want to spend more than an hour on this. Warmup means warmup, Pondy.

Avengers. Steve/Tony. G.

Things what I have been doing

2009-11-20T04:40:36Z

Attended a benefit dinner last night with J, maiki, and Susan for a non-profit that we've done a lot of work for. Materials that both Susan and I had designed were all over the place and it was really nice to see it all out and looking snazzy. Susan's done a lot to get their informational materials/reports looking clean and professional. I did the benefit's programs, invites, and carried over from last year was a set of promotional posters which I'm still proud of. The project, per usual, made me gnash my teeth at times, but I do enjoy working for them, and it was flattering when people whom I didn't expect compliments from told me they were impressed by the invitations in particular. :D Leading up I had this worry about the pagination on the program booklet since I worked entirely remotely and never saw a proof (or even had time to run one myself!) but everything turned out beautifully and typo-free. By this point, I've done enough recent work to have a solid design portfolio again, so with so few classes left ahead of me it's nice to have that in addition to what's shaping up to go on my reel.

I didn't mingle much, as J and I were introduced to some great people early on and there was no incentive to bother straying away from the interesting conversation to rub elbows with people outside my industry. It was somewhat fascinating attending something like this after so long, and also after now having worked on catering from the serving end! The appetizers, by the way, were awesome. I wish we offered some of them on our own menu, especially the warm cranberries and almonds in phyllo cups. Yum.

My shoes were remarkably comfortable. I haven't worn actual heels in forever and it's nice to confirm that my knee can handle hours standing around in 3" heels.

[FIC] X-men RPS - Hugh/Liev/Taylor - Boys' Club

2009-11-20T01:46:32Z

This was supposed to be anon commentporn, but then it wasn't fulfilling what the OP had asked for so I wrote it for Blue instead.

Boys' Club
X-men RPS. Hugh Jackman/Liev Schrieber/Taylor Kitsch. NC-17. 3400 words.
God, tonight he'd be a slut for it if that's what they wanted.

Boys' Club

The hours of mingling and sound bites for the reporters have become a blur, and there's been more than a couple drinks passed into his hand since the screening officially started. Taylor bounces from group to group, winding through the press of people and never sticking long with any one crowd. None of his friends are here anyway, just industry folks who cared enough to fly into Tuscon. Most of his co-stars have slipped out, a couple to the screening, the rest to who knows where.

Taylor catches one of the ushers for directions to the restroom furthest from the flow of people. A quiet corner and a splash of water on his face should knock him back into the game. He leaves his unfinished drink on a side table and heads down the maze of corridors, up a flight of stairs, the buzz of conversation fading as he turns into hallways that haven't been decked out like the rest. The calm is welcome, and Taylor breathes a little bit easier with each step.

Unfortunately it seems like janitorial hadn't bothered to unlock the restrooms this far from the main soiree. He jiggles the door handle, wonders if he ought to go have a smoke instead of trying to shock the last round of drinks and the jet lag out of his system. Halfway through the thought, the handle gives, and he stumbles a step inside. Occupied, fuck. An apology jumps to his tongue, ends up mangled when he recognises it's his co-stars who've taken over the little bathroom. Taylor's panic eases, thankful at least that he didn't scare the life out of some poor fan on the toilet.

"Long way from the party," Liev says, tapping ash from his cigarette into the sink. His gaze flicks to Hugh, standing close at his side. "Thought you'd locked that door."

"Thought I had." Hugh's weight shifts; he'd turned just enough to see Taylor stumble in. His leg nudges up against the edge of the counter as he glances back to Liev. There's an energy to him, not quite the same as the amped up buzz that'd been there at the main stage, the thrill of seeing the fans that he loved, but it's just as palpable and oddly infectious.

"Caught you smoking in the little boy's room," Taylor says, grinning. The joke falls the slightest bit flat, the chuckle he gets out of Hugh far from the boisterous laugh that it might otherwise have earned. He feels suddenly like his first day at production, only the starstruck nerves had long-since faded, soothed away by Hugh's ridiculous ability to make even the newest stagehand feel comfortable. But this, this feels like he's interrupting and doesn't know the secret password, like it's not so much the boys' room as the boys' club.

"Red handed," Liev says. The smile that tugs at his mouth flickers between rueful and amused.

A flush hits Taylor's face with the impact of a tractor trailer going ninety when Liev hangs the cigarette on his lip and drops his hands and there's the unmistakable sound of a zipper being done up. Shit. This is what he's walked in on. "I, err, sorry, I'll—" Taylor shakes his head but nothing more useful finds its way to his tongue and he looks down at where his hand had caught the door before it could swing shut. "I'll go. I'll go now."

The cigarette is back in Liev's hand when he says, "Stay if you'd like. I don't mind."

"Doesn't what I think factor into the equation?" Hugh says, and there's a faint tinge of embarrassment on his neck to match Taylor's. It creeps up to redden his ears when Liev leans in and mumbles something too low for Taylor to catch.

"Look, sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt." The heat isn't all in Taylor's face, a good amount of blood busy redirecting itself low in his groin, making it obvious in a few slamming heartbeats that he might not have meant to interrupt but he's really not all that sorry. Not at all, in point of fact, something he's likely to explore later when he's got a moment to wrap his head around the idea of his co-stars fucking and then wrap his hand around his dick.

"But here you are." Liev shrugs, taking it in stride.

"Cat's out of the bag, I reckon," Hugh says, and it registers suddenly just how close he is to Liev, pressed up right up to Liev's side. Handjob, Taylor guesses, and can't help but look for a shine of spit on Hugh's hand. "Liev's right, stay if you'd like, but see if that lock will hold. Not big enough for four in here."

"Jesus Christ." The ringing in Taylor's ears doesn't lessen. He figures he has about two seconds to make up his mind, and it's not just the alcohol in his system telling him it'd be stupid to walk out now. If he were a hundred percent straight, he'd have a reason, but Jesus fucking Christ, even if this is a dream he'd probably regret going back out into the hall when the invitation to join the party seems to be an honest one. Filming had been a blast, and he'd looked up to these guys, still does even though he'd gotten to know them well enough. So, hell, this isn't a sleazy offer, he's pretty sure if he walks out, that's that, no hard feelings, just add a couple more guys onto the list who aren't quite the straight shooters they have to be in the face of the gossip rags.

Liev and Hugh exchange a look that says Taylor's two seconds have come and gone. His feet have cemented to the floor while his mind spins and goes nowhere fast. Everything, even his heartbeat, comes to a screeching halt when Hugh peels away from Liev's side. Taylor's gaze jumps down to Hugh's fly, button and zip open and the rumpled front of his boxers showing. Maybe a step up from a handjob.

"It's up to you," Hugh says, in the same open tone of voice that he used on set the first time it was clear that Taylor was nervous acting opposite him. "Blow off a little steam before you go back out there...."

A dozen feet away, Liev watches, and a trail of red hot ants marches across Taylor's back.

"In or out," Hugh says. With one step, he'd be close enough to kiss.

"In," Taylor breathes, and the slow spread of Liev's grin sends a shiver through him.

"Maybe we should go out into the hall and have a really good time," Liev says. After one last drag, he grinds his cigarette out in the sink and leaves it there. "Bet I could get you both off without anyone showing up or seeing a thing."

"Maybe I told you one day you'd get us caught, so let's not up the ante," Hugh shoots back.

Time goes quick then slow, and Taylor feels like a fish on a hook as a shift in Hugh's posture brings him the barest inch closer. They're both looking at him, sizing him up in a way that they never had on set, and it's as if they can tell that the puzzle pieces are tumbling through Taylor's head, assembling together to form the picture he could've seen if he'd thought to look hard enough. They have an ease about them, and it'd been there long before. This little romp in the bathroom sure as hell isn't a one time thing. Friends for a long time, Taylor remembers, and then he can't think at all because Hugh's hand cups over his groin, wide palm and long fingers framing the hardness of his cock.

And on Hugh's face is this mischievous quirk of a smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he massages Taylor's cock out of the awkward bend in the tight fit of his jeans to let it swell to fullness beneath the denim. All the strength drains out of his knees, his back falling against the door. The heel of his palm stays propped on the handle, the dig of it about the only thing that feels real.

"One way to keep the door shut," Liev says. He moves up behind Hugh, hands settling comfortable and familiar on Hugh's sides. He keeps his eyes on Taylor as he puts his mouth to Hugh's neck, sucks tenderly until Hugh warns him about leaving a mark. Liev doesn't seem particularly deterred, and a hot prickle goes through Taylor's neck in roughly the same spot when Liev ignores the warning to raise faint marks on Hugh's skin.

"Do you like having your dick sucked?" Hugh asks, sounding so very matter of fact that it somehow makes the question all the more dirty.

Taylor is too stunned to move, limbs turned stone. His nerves though are alive and buzzing when Hugh prompts him with a low sound and eases down his fly.

"Shit, yes," he manages. Who doesn't, he wants to ask but the question never makes it out of his throat. Hugh's hand slips inside Taylor's zip, fingers coaxing his dick out through the slit in his boxers.

"How about a dick in your mouth?" he asks.

It hasn't happened all that often, but Taylor nods his head, already imagining the feel of a cock bumping past his lips, velvet soft and licked wet until it's a hot easy slide against his tongue. God, tonight he'd be a slut for it if that's what they wanted.

Liev whispers something into Hugh's ear, a fresh grin stretching his mouth into a wicked shape. Hugh's lips part as if he's going to respond, but instead he leans forward, eyes searching Taylor's for any hint of resistance before taking the kiss Taylor is immediately and desperately hungry for. It's gentle, searching, a teasing nudge of lips on his that has him sucking in a quick breath and losing it through his nose a moment later. Liev's hands have slid from Hugh's sides, found Taylor's waist and dragged down, feeling around to where Hugh is toying with him and then the slow tug on his cock firms, Liev guiding Hugh's hand while murmuring encouragement against the slope of his shoulder.

"Use your tongue now," Liev says, voice a step above a rough whisper. Taylor's not sure what gets him harder: The glide of Hugh's tongue running wet over his lip or the way Liev shifts enough to see it there. "Take his mouth, nice and easy, suck his lip between yours. Perfect. He taste like that cheap beer he was tossing back earlier? Now both lips."

The words blur with the sensation, soft tug of his lip being enveloped between Hugh's and then the scrape of teeth as Hugh tips his head, seals their mouths together for an instant but doesn't deepen it. Taylor aches for the thrust of Hugh's tongue and gets only what Liev had asked for, the almost bite as Hugh sucks at his mouth, his lips cushioned between Hugh's, and finally a slow lick that delves teasingly into his mouth.

"You want to suck on something else, don't you?" Liev's hands have stopped guiding Hugh's, kept busy somewhere else that Taylor can't quite tell, not with the push of tongue against his own and the way Hugh moans a yes. "Had my cock out but never got a taste."

Taylor feels the shudder that claims Hugh and through slitted eyes, he watches Liev pull Hugh's shirt collar back and nip. Hugh's mouth trembles against his and Taylor presses forward, tastes the desire there and shares in it.

"Are you really going to?" he asks, pulling away, grip finally sliding off the door handle with a loud metal twang that dumps adrenaline into his system for fear of discovery. His heart swells to fill the space of his lungs, straining with a vicious thumping beat, and the rhythm only speeds when Hugh pulls his hands away and sets them to the door on either side of Taylor's shoulders.

"Really going to what?" Hugh prompts, the crinkling amusement back around his eyes.

"Suck your dick?" Liev says, a similar amused gleam in the shine of his whites. The curve of his eyebrow arches higher, just before he hauls Hugh back, hands on Hugh's bared hips to bend him near double. Hugh's hands skid down the door, damp palms squealing on the paint only to thump solidly into place bracketing Taylor's hips.

"Jesus." Taylor can't keep his eyes off the span of Hugh's back, shirt stretched tight over the breadth of it. Just beyond is the curve of Hugh's ass, tan melting away to pale skin showing in slivers between the spread of Liev's hands. There's another question clinging at the front of Taylor's brain as he wonders feverishly if this is going in the direction it seems to be heading. He catches a shift in movement, muscles of Hugh's arms jumping as he props more of his weight on the door. It's a miracle the poor thing isn't groaning on its hinges holding both of them up.

"Might be changing my mind," Hugh says, so very clearly a lie with the way his head dips down and warm breath rushes over the tip of Taylor's cock.

If Taylor could take a snapshot of Hugh's mouth hovering there, he would. Not to sell to the tabloids, no matter how much that'd earn, but because he still can't believe this is happening. His vision wobbles for a second, dizzy like he's just downed a fresh row of shots, and he can't control the sound that pours out of him. A low shaky moan rips from his throat when Hugh blows a deliberate puff of air onto his cock, and Liev reaches out, fingers fanning over the back of Hugh's skull to push him down.

"Quit teasing the kid," Liev says, and Taylor has a second to agree before the head of his cock drags over Hugh's cheek and then it's a wet curl of tongue and pure fucking bliss.

Hugh is no stranger to this, clearly, and Taylor has to fight not to jerk his hips. Normally, he'd see how much he could get away with, fuck past the careful guard of lips over teeth to sink as deep into sweet, soft heat as his partner is willing to give. But this he doesn't know how to deal with, can't figure where to put his hands or if the sound choked in his throat should stay there or spill free as obscene as the look on Liev's face. Something like a whine makes it into the air and Hugh's encouraging moan and the sloppy lick that follows gets Taylor to slide his fingers into the short strands of Hugh's hair. It slips like silk beneath his fingers as he pushes it back. Taylor doesn't mean to treat Hugh like a porn star, but he can't help it, the need to be able to see the push of his dick disappearing into Hugh's mouth too strong to do anything else.

He's so focused on it he misses the sound of Liev's zip coming open again, and it's only the shudder that overcomes Hugh that clues him in. Taylor's gaze jumps instantly to the taper of Hugh's back, the divots low on his spine and beyond to where Liev's bare cock rides the cleft of his ass. Somehow he'd missed Hugh reaching back, the eager grip of his hand on the front of Liev's pantleg.

"Both ends?" Liev asks, thumbs spreading Hugh's asscheeks wide, showing off just the faintest bit of flushed skin amidst the curl of fine hairs. Taylor chokes when Hugh bucks demandingly against Liev and hums a very agreeable sound without ever pulling his mouth of Taylor's cock.

"Both ends," Taylor echoes, like saying it will make it seem less like a crazy dream. It doesn't, at all, and it's so damn hard to do anything but groan when Hugh wraps strong fingers around the base of his cock, holds it firm and really starts to suck.

He's got his hand there for a reason, Taylor finds out, the riot in his system overloaded long before Liev rolls on a condom, lines it up and drives it home. Hugh's mouth skids down, stops frustratingly short, and Taylor tears his gaze away to steal a look at Liev. Head cast down, furrow between his brows, Liev's lost the same way Taylor had been. Long seconds pass before he senses the attention, and then Taylor's eyes are locked to his and Liev's pleasure-slack mouth pulls into another small smile. He takes solid hold of Hugh's shirt, slams his hips in quick succession hard enough to shove Hugh forward onto Taylor's cock each time, but with Hugh pushing back, fucking himself between them, there's no rhythm to it.

The slippery desperate chaos of their bodies flattens Taylor's back to the door, his hands gripping tighter in Hugh's hair, holding him with the desire to bottom out thwarted by Hugh's grip. It's good though, having that clutch of fingers tight around him, staving off the pressure that has him ready to pop. He doesn't even think about warning for it before he can't avoid it any longer and he comes, all the air gone from his lungs in a single loud groan that drowns under the sound that Hugh makes. Mouth pulling off Taylor after a hasty swallow, there's nothing to muffle the rising noises that Liev fucks out of him.

Taylor almost falls to a puddle, but his grip stays firm, and he's free to eat up the flickering play of sensation across Hugh's face. He sees it when the rhythm Liev settles into starts hitting all the right notes and Taylor's guts get all twisted up wishing he'd been able to wait and feel the fine shivers that crawl through Hugh and get off on the way Liev urges him in a quiet voice to let go and come. And after a long span of seconds Hugh does, without a hand on him, just the steady push of Liev's cock and Taylor's shaky fingers in his hair to tip him over the edge.

"Fuck," Taylor says, hardly more than a breath.

Hugh walks his hands up the door, back curved to press his chest against Taylor's. Liev's rhythm changes, stops entirely, and then Taylor is crushed under Hugh's weight and the press of Liev behind him.

"Share another kiss for me," Liev says, spitting on his cock before pushing back in on one long thrust. He grunts softly and slips an arm around Hugh's chest to find his throat, skim fingers up the stretch of it and tip his head to Taylor's.

Taylor doesn't even think to protest, and the taste of his come still thick in Hugh's mouth isn't as bad as he would've expected. Hugh smiles into the laziness of the kiss, mouth going slack as soon as Liev's thrusts turn purposeful, and then Taylor is busy swallowing a fresh rush of sound as Hugh's kiss falters entirely, and he urges without words for Liev to find his release.

It's over before Taylor's ready for things to end, and every single twitch and shudder and sound from them seems to sink into his bones. Even after they pull away and Liev is stripping off the condom to flush it, the last few minutes are busy playing on a fast loop in Taylor's head, triggering his nerves with echoes of a kiss or a touch.

Zipped up, clothes straightened, Liev shakes loose a second cigarette and holds out the pack. "Smoke?" he offers, and Taylor takes it gratefully.

"'Bout time they'll be expecting me," Hugh says, the note of chagrin in his voice Taylor takes as guilt for ducking the crowd for so long. Something that, after a shared look, Taylor guesses neither he or Liev feel the least bit bad about from any angle.

*

End

[ART] Harry Potter - Hagrid/Draco - Up the Stalk and Down the Pole - NSFW

2009-11-14T01:15:55Z

I was invited to join bottom_draco's Fairy Tale fest. The reveals were today and this was my submission. I knew the prompt was left for the squick factor, but I couldn't resist the urge to draw a micro fetish pic.

Harry Potter. Hagrid/Draco. NC-17. Micro.

Yuletide!

2009-11-13T20:48:57Z

Dear Santa,

Although I tried to make my prompts relatively thorough on their own, here's a bit more info about my general likes and dislikes.

I tend to say the same thing each year, which is that I'm sure that I will love whatever it is you choose to write. This is true, so please enjoy yourself while writing for me! My tastes are varied, and I can be convinced on just about anything. I love stories about friendship, adventure, porn, dystopia, romance, or more. I like uplifting stories as much as noir. The types that I tend to not like are saccharine sweet or featuring weak-willed protagonists.

On themes: I have a severe kink for loyalty themes. Some of the characters I've requested have an antagonistic bent, and when it comes to rivalry, I tend towards unrequited themes or where one half of a relationship turns to obsession. I've been on a noir bent lately, so my usual request for happy or hopeful endings is not in effect. However, please no character deaths outside of canon! I also have a bit of an infidelity squick, which can be completely ignored for the Prestige. I don't like completely AU stories where characters are placed in a completely different setting, but I do like alternate or divergent realities where something pivotal is twisted and What If'd. The exception to this would probably be with my request for Fringe where I'd be happy to see the world set in classic noir or steampunk.

On porn: If it fits into the story you want to write, most anything goes with me. If you feel like writing kink, my more bulletproof kinks include D/s, breathplay, and pegging. In dark fics, I am really fond of non-con/dub-con of the sort that falls under coercion, particularly with one character going 'willingly' in order to save another. My only squick revolves around knives.

Fringe: I love everyone in the cast. David Robert Jones was fascinating to me, and thanks to crazylittleelf I have a pretty big crush on Nick Lane. If Astrid gets something to do other than be convenient exposition or all "It's a Unix system, I know this!" that she unfortunately ends up as so often in the show, that would be like adding sprinkles to a bowl of ice cream. The concept of a true multiverse as opposed parallel realties would also be awesomesauce.

Sunshine: I listed Mace/Capa because I am shallow and Cillian is so very pretty, but in a shippy sense Searle/Kaneda also pings me really freaking hard.

The Royal Tenenbaums: I'm least interested in reading something heavily featuring Chas, not because I don't care for him, but because of the Tenenbaum fic I've read, I've seen him explored pretty thoroughly. Wes Anderson is my favourite director, and this is my favourite film of his because the humour is especially wry. Absurd situations treated as commonplace to go with his almost stageplay style is what also makes me love his work.

The Prestige: guede_mazaka wrote the only Prestige fic I've ever read and it's never really gotten out of my head. I love the mood and setting and mindfuckery of the film. Also the heartbreak. While I'm mostly a happy or hopeful ending type of person, in a fandom like this, that is not at all a requirement.

I tried summarizing each of my requested fandoms in case you want to give something unfamiliar a try, but instead I'm just going to say that I recommend each of them without reservation. They have several overlapping qualities that are likely to make them enjoyable if you know one and not the others.

So, after saying all that, I hope I've given enough direction without being too broad or too restrictive. Tenenbaums aside, the other three fandoms easily permit timefuck or reality warping, so if you enjoy writing that sort of thing, go crazy. If you enjoy writing porn and have an idea for something completely scorching with absolutely no plot at all, go crazy. All in all, please write whatever gets you excited!

ipa = love

2009-11-12T07:31:37Z

Worked a bit on my Logan/Daken pic. Note to self: please explore range of facial expressions beyond grumpy or snarling. In the middle of said drawing, I may have chugged a Butte Creek IPA, which, if anyone knows my alcohol tolerance means that I have a very slight buzz. Still not as good as a Speakeasy Big Daddy, but yum regardless.

IJ's porn_battle is over and I miss it already. There was a Kadaj/Roy Mustang prompt that seemed terribly shiny until I actually tried writing it and ended up with something that felt like a thinly veiled Envy/Roy. Oops. Eked out a Victor/Logan though, which was nice. Shall get the lot cleaned up and properly posted on my site when I am not slightly tipsy.

Happy to report that I feel caught up on my schoolwork again, in no small part because I got a ton and a half done on my creature modeling today in class. I also managed to resubmit my Yuletide to fix up my offered fandoms and add a couple more. Tomorrow I'll probably write up my Santa letter, although I seem to say mostly the same thing each year. Gwee. Yuletide, it's like the best part of the holiday season next to leftover turkey.

Although I'm not drawing a ton, I find myself missing not having a place to art dump. I realised that with DW's shiny new subscription filters that I could just set up a tag that people can avoid if they want and then I don't have to worry about feeling like I'm spamming everyone with doodles and WIP things. So, fair warning, if you follow me on DW and don't want to see sketches and junk and wip things, you might want to tweak your subscription settings to avoid the art:unfinished tag that I'll be using. I won't be crossposting art dumps to IJ or to my site.

the dayweekmonth has flown by

2009-11-08T02:21:10Z

I think I had about a day to breathe after getting back from con, but that's being generous. Finished up part two of the big design gig I've been working on, and have been catching up and refining my class projects. Today I worked opening shift for the first time in about a month and it was ridiculously busy, but that just meant I hardly felt the hours go by.

So, I've been playing a bit over on IJ's porn_battle. The drabble tally, so far:

X-Men Origins: Wolverine, Stryker/Victor, always about Logan

Baccano!, Fermet/Czeslaw, the mental torture is worse than the physical

Commercials, Mr. Clean/Scrubbing Bubbles scrubbers, raw

Batman: The Dark Knight, Batman/Jim Gordon, night visitor

On a completely different note, anyone who works, lives, or has ties to Oakland and who are interested in community news/blogging/local journalism and activism, OaklandLocal is hosting a meetup on Nov 16th downtown. There are some very inspired folks with great ideas involved in the site, so if you've got any inclination, please consider checking it out!

yay for creative commons

2009-10-20T16:45:39Z

Mercedes Lackey is now welcoming the production of fanworks provided they're released creative commons.

This makes me happy in several ways, and slightly inclined towards redoing some abandoned fanart. I still don't believe in the need for permission, but the encouragement is nice. If only I hadn't been utterly disgusted by her self-insert and washed my hands of all her novels.

Now if only Robin Hobb would stop being full of crazy and anti-fan so I could start buying her books again.

two midterms down, two to go...

sometimes all i really want is crack

2009-10-13T03:10:29Z

Blue refuses to write me Logan having Victor's mutant kittenbabies.

;_;

I'm sure iniq would back me up in declaring that she is wrong to refuse.

[ART] A Song of Ice and Fire - Loras

2009-10-12T04:47:28Z

Fooling around with portraits and tone and new brushes.

A Song of Ice and Fire. Loras. G.

At work today, I made vegan ginger carrot cake cupcakes. They were awesome.

[ART] Original - Gideon

2009-10-07T03:46:37Z

Gideon is one of the main characters in the historical novel blue_soaring is writing. He ended up with a resemblance that I wasn't aiming for originally, but I like it. Drew this pretty quickly and extended the canvas downwards so the anatomy is a bit crap, but I learned quite a bit fooling around with this, especially as far as painting hair goes. Also I shocked myself once I realised I drew this in about an hour. Level up!

Original. Gideon. PG.

a complete lack of interesting things

2009-10-06T18:22:27Z

I have absolutely nothing to chatter about.

Been wanting to play things, but ogame is about all I have time for. It's nice being able to queue up things and then just sit back and wait as my empire grows stronger.

[FIC] Harry Potter - Snape/Harry - The Briefest Touch

2009-09-23T06:32:46Z

I keep forgetting to post this. I'm sure dungeons_master has forgotten they even left me a prompt. Which was, for the record: Snape/Harry, skinnydipping ^^;

The Briefest Touch
Harry Potter. Snape/Harry. R. 575 words.
This was their life now, simple, quiet, free to swim naked in the middle of the day should they wish it.

The Briefest Touch

Severus rolled his trousers midway to his knees and sat himself down on the edge of the dock. The lake was a pool of ink, black as his robes. Ripples edged to the reed-choked shore, radiating from the slide of his feet beneath the water's calm.

A fat bubble broke the surface, followed by a flurry of dozens more, tiny as champagne bubbles. They floated like stars until disturbed by the emergence of a dark crown of hair, slick and gleaming in the wan moonlight.

"Join me," Harry said, hanging in the water for a long moment before he surged up to prop his arms on the planks beside Severus. Droplets slid from his naked skin, pooled dark on the smooth wood. He looked for all the world like a muggle merfolk idealised--his chest smooth and strong and perfect narrowed down to ghostly mystery beneath the water. But if Severus looked carefully, he could see Harry's legs gently scissoring.

"I'd rather watch you swim," Severus said.

"Is that really what you'd rather do?" Harry lifted himself out of the water, lean muscles of his arms going taut as he held himself high enough that his mouth flirted near Severus's shoulder.

"For the moment." This was their life now, simple, quiet, free to swim naked in the middle of the day should they wish it.

"Liar," Harry said. He sank back into the water, vanishing for the blink of an eye before bobbing to the surface again. His hand, chill from the swim, curled around Severus's ankle and tugged. "Come in or I pull you in. Your choice."

Severus yanked his leg free. "Offering choices that aren't. Like father like son." He winced as soon as the words spilled free into the quiet of the night, waited for the flash of anger or pain in Harry's eyes he'd seen so many times before.

But Harry's mouth just pulled into a smile and he caught Severus's leg again, grip firm and unyielding. He had changed so much in the past few years while Severus struggled to keep pace. Some days he worried that Harry would tire of this game, tire of him and his inability to hold his tongue. "You'll complain, but secretly you want me to." Harry braced himself against one of the moss-slick pylons, the threat of hauling Severus into the lake looming as black as the water. "Last chance...."

"Very well." Severus shifted, lifted his hands to undo the row of buttons at his throat, and before his fingers had finished with the second, the world dropped out from under him.

Watery dimness closed in, his robes ballooning around him one moment and a smothering weight the next. He choked on a mouthful of water before instinct snapped his mouth shut, and he jerked away from the press of fingers at his mouth. Harry's fingers swept over his lips again, air gathering in the wake of his touch. Severus's feet found the slick bottom of the lake and he swayed from the push of water and the stronger push of Harry's foolish impulses. He let Harry strip him down, free his robes to the whim of the water.

"Not so bad, is it?" Harry asked, pulling him away from the shore to deeper water where they floated together, connected sometimes by only the briefest touch of their fingers.

In the cool, clinging darkness, Severus permitted himself to agree.

*
End

[ART] Original - Creature Design - Concept sketches

2009-09-23T05:53:57Z

I have a creature design and modeling class this semester. Our first assignment followed standard procedure and had us doing a bunch of thumbnails. I did about 50 thumbnail sketches in silhouette form last week and tried to stray from humanoid since that's something I tend to draw naturally. We narrowed down our silhouettes in class to two and so my homework was to take those and further develop them. I went the concept art route as it was the easiest way for me to come up with features. Creatures aren't something I find at all comfortable to work on, especially since I tend to like horror/grotesque art over fantasy/alien so I really had to push myself here. Ended up doing one humanoid figure since that was one of the thumbnails my teacher suggested, but I'm far more likely to do one of the others. Tomorrow in class, I'll pick finals and then need to draw up the underlying muscle structure and properly narrow down skin/surface type and all that fun stuff. I wish I had started actually painting before this afternoon, but once I know which creature I'll be modeling, I can go in and do something more detailed.

My thumbnail sketch, silhouette style, and a few concepts of how the head could look. Went for variations of predator versus herd beast, with the tentacles on a separate layer so I could turn them off and on.

I knew I wanted the creature to live in an environment with a lot of lava. Originally I was going to go for more of a demon mount, but stretched myself away from the horror to try and make a creature that looked like it would actually exist in an area that was primarily lava flows.

Taking the same basic shape, I worked this one away from insect/crustacean to a creature with an obvious muscle structure. I liked the head more in the individual concepts than how it ended up looking here. Comparing this head to the insect-like head, the other is far more striking and interesting. If I go with a muscular bodytype, I'm definitely going to have to do more versions to come up with a better headshape.

Explored a humanoid here and trying to represent a lot of mass. Originally my concept was again mentally veering towards horror themed, combining elements of two different thumbnails. Both were zombie/grotesque creatures, with baroque filigreed items on them. Took out all the horror, so there's not quite so much of an interesting contrast with the props, but he looks like he could be a temple guard or something. :3

This class is tough. Moreso once I actually have to start sculpting a physical maquette of my creature in clay, but I'm having a surprising amount of fun.

[ART] Inglourious Basterds - Donny - Batter Up! - NSFW

2009-09-21T01:57:38Z

I am weak to the Bear Jew. ...and to anonymice saying things about his bat where I can see them. Thus, a quicky. Now I get back to work on the other image that makes me feel just the slightest bit dirty. Witness my restraint in not titling this happy new year. Ohohoho.

Inglourious Basterds. Donny. NC-17. Large insertion. Non-con. Violence.

omg fringe

2009-09-19T07:04:26Z

I don't really have time or energy to say anything interesting, just aah and squee and I love everyone on this show so very much. :x

also maybe eventually I will have to cave and write a bit of olivia/rachel

[ART] Harry Potter - Snape/Harry - In the Fire-lit Shadows - [NSFW]

2009-09-17T15:35:40Z

This was only slight deadline fail.

A gift commissioned by accioslash for dementordelta, of a scene from Delta's fic The Place in the Dark.

Harry Potter. Snape/Harry. R.

Happy belated birthday, Delta! I hope you had a great day!

...and on-time birthday wishes to blue_soaring, even if her present will be equally late.

deadlines fail

2009-09-17T15:25:53Z

I missed a work deadline earlier this week on top of completely not understanding what it is the client was asking for. Got that sorted out the next day, but am still slightly irritated at myself. And I just clued in on that I missed a fannish deadline this week too. Gah. (The lovely mods just gave me an extension though, yay!) My sense of time has been completely fucked lately. I think it's a combination of adjusting to my new schedule coupled with this stupid cold that has decided to live almost entirely in my sinuses to the point where wearing featherlight glasses is painful. It's been a week and a half and it's going away, thankfully, but I'm still catching myself with moments of complete bzuh.

Going in to my second week of classes, I'm wondering just how much free time I'll have with the amount of homework I'm looking at. I was hoping to sail through my online English class, but the instructor is actually good at structuring the discussions and putting up interesting materials (if on infuriating subjects), so that's taking up more time than any online class I'd taken previously. I am equal parts boo and yay about this. All three of my on-campus classes are project intensive, although I'm very, very happy to be nailing down what I need to model early on and not floundering around like I was last semester.

Driving down to my mom's today and visiting folks, which is cutting out almost a full day of homework, but is necessary on a few levels. I'm hoping I'll be able to get the online stuff out of the way while I'm down there though, and this weekend I'm not on opening shift anymore so when I get home from work I shouldn't be quite as exhausted as usual.

No segues here

2009-09-10T01:01:37Z

- My classes are awesome this semester. All of them except english. I took the same exact class two years ago, only when my credit transferred in, it did so for the prereq. Thanks, AAU, for fucking over my transfer credits in as many ways as possible.

- I have a cold. Hopefully this won't be a repeat of the billion day cough of the cold I had last year.

- Did I mention my classes are awesome? I get to sculpt a maquette! And need to buy a few artbooks I've been wanting for ages but hadn't gotten around to. Yay for fun required texts.

Fun thing of note:

- There is a Watchmen Kink Meme running on Dreamwidth. Even if I haven't played on one of these for ages, I encourage prompts as I am /so/ wanting to doodle.

[ART] Inglourious Basterds - Donny & Aldo - Going to the Movies

2009-09-08T05:08:20Z

Guess what I saw today? :D And now that I've gotten this out of my system, I ~~think~~ hope I'm good. \o/

Inglourious Basterds. Donny&Aldo. R. Blood n' corpses.

[ART] X-men - Logan/Remy - Go Easy

2009-09-04T02:43:53Z

X-men. Logan/Remy. PG.

OMG WHAT AGAIN

2009-09-03T02:21:27Z

I'm not fuckin intentionally trying to be fucking spammy, but OMFG.

omg boys. Boys with their Da. Finally. I am less D: about the protege than I was in all the years prior to actual filming.

\o/

omg what

2009-09-03T01:47:58Z

death_bingo! How very appropriate for several of my fandoms. Yes.

Apocalypse square? Extra win.

Homicide (filicide)

Premature burial/Immurment

Decaptitation

Crushed/Pressed

Attack (supernatural being)

Poisoning (intentional)

Overdose (accidental)

Suicide (general)

Dehydration

Homicide (general)

Illness (sexually transmitted disease)

Temperature (hyperthermia)

FREE DEATH

Crash (automobile)

Execution (hanging)
Borden/Angier

Man vs. Vehicle (automobile)

Martyrdom

Overexertion (other)

Crash (train)

Device (Rube Goldberg)

Overdose (intentional)

Illness (sudden)

Apocalypse

Illness (cancer)

Electrocution

[FIC] Smokin' Aces/Supernatural - Jeeves/Dean - Last Call

2009-09-03T00:45:44Z

Basic heat I can deal with for the most part, but this humidity thing has got to go.

And now here's the first of the not-drabbles that I took like a month ago. Aharhr. For stewardess who asked for a Tremor brother(s)/a Winchester brother(s). Weaponry.

Last Call
Smokin' Aces/Supernatural. Jeeves/Dean. R. 1900 words. Non-con of the unwanted groping variety.
A thousand successful hunts and more wounds than scars, and this is how it was going to end?

Last Call

"Nai guhh."

Dean's crawled through every state at least twice, spent more than enough time in the kind of bars where it takes a dozen guys to come up with a full set of teeth between them, and he still can't understand the mash of sounds coming out of the guy towering over him. Could be part of the block between Dean's ears and his brain is that the guy's got neo-Nazi fuckhead written all over him. Literally, turns out, when the guy drops a hand on the top of the bar and rolls up his shirtsleeve. He slugs Dean in the shoulder in what Dean hopes was meant to be a friendly gesture, but either way it's going to leave a bruise.

"Forry five. Bih boom. Big. Bigbig."

So that one, Dean understands. Almost smiles until sliding up on the other side of him comes the skinnier, shorter, equally tattooed version of the skinhead mountain pawing at him.

Bright blue eyes skim over Dean's face in a way that makes him feel like he's really in the wrong damn kind of bar. "What he means is he likes your gun."

"Yeah, I got that." Dean tugs his shirt down over the lump of it at his spine and wraps his hands around his beer, hoping they'll take the hint and leave before Sam tracks him down. Dean's here to avoid trouble, not up the ante.

"I think my brother Jeeves there wants a closer look at that fine piece of weaponry." Blue-eyes pulls the pick out of someone's abandoned glass and twists to lean his back against the bar. He starts cleaning his teeth, and under the flap of his ratty, sleeveless, black denim jacket, he's got more guns strapped to him than the Impala has trunkspace for. "How about you go with him to the little boy's room."

Dean flinches when a big hand claps to his leg and runs up his thigh to squeeze him none-too-gently in the crotch. "Bafroom. Good for ya." Another squeeze, firm enough to make him see stars.

"Do I have a choice?"

Blue-eyes turns his head lazily, beams a big smile at him. "The good Lord says we all got choices, friend."

"C'mon." Jeeves takes a fistful of Dean's jacket and hauls him off his stool, gives him a shove towards the back of the bar and smacks him upside the head when he doesn't move.

"I'm going, I'm going." Out of the corner of his eye, Dean catches the bartender looking edgy. Dean smiles, tries to assure the few people tossing looks his way that he's got things covered, and there won't be trouble. But his blood runs hot, then cold. There's something about the vibe in the joint that's changed enough that a quick takedown in the bathroom and a getaway might be the best plan of action.

He glances back to see if Blue-eyes is going to follow, but his new, giant-sized buddy blocks his view and gives him another smack. "No time. Gon' get dark," he grunts.

Dean scowls and rubs the back of his head. Guy is bigger than his freak brother, but Dean bet he landed on the far end of the spectrum when it came to smarts. All bulk and no brains, and Dean hates the type. "Dark? It's half past ten. The sun's been down for hours."

"Gon' get dark." Right.

The bathroom is a tiny one stall, one urinal, one sink affair, and the moment they're both inside, Dean ducks down out of reach and springs back to deliver a swift punch to Jeeves's nuts. Pain rockets up Dean's arm, his hand numbed, and the next thing he knows he's being picked up into the air, the world does a few spins and then he's flat on the floor with no air left in his lungs.

Jeeves pulls a goddamn butcher knife out of his pants and Dean blinks away stars and the sudden flicker of his life flashing past his eyes. A thousand successful hunts and more wounds than scars, and this is how it was going to end? Down and out, just like that, chopped up by a crazy asshole with a stupid looking mohawk and left to bleed on a dirty bathroom floor. Dean's breath comes back in a loud gasping rush just in time to see Jeeves drive the knife into the plaster and leave it in the wall.

"Shuddup," Jeeves tells him, putting a boot to his leg to swivel him around on the tile. Two-hundred odd pounds of muscle drops onto him, wriggles back to sit on his shins, and Dean's eyes bug when Jeeves goes straight for his fly.

The hard edges of his gun dig into the base of his spine, impossible to get to. Jeeves slams a hand down onto his shoulder, pins him effectively and grins when his hand wriggles its way into Dean's boxers. Dean squirms, eyeballs the gun just a little too far out of reach and considers that maybe being chopped to death wasn't such a bad alternative after all.

When the lights cut out and the shooting starts, Dean's mind takes another 180. He renews his efforts to reach his gun, but it's no use. Adrenaline rips through his veins, and if the groping he could do without, at least he's got a pretty effective meat shield between him and any rounds flying this way. It sounds like a war's going on, screams interrupted by shotgun blasts and the cough of automatic rifles.

"Done soon," Jeeves says, and Dean can't tell if he means he's going to come from rutting against Dean's leg like a goddamn dog, or if the firefight is almost over.

Either way, Jeeves shifts his weight, his hand skids off Dean's shoulder to the floor, and Dean's chance glimmers like a beacon. One hard twist that wrenches his shoulder to screaming earns him his Colt in his hand, and Jeeves grunts when the muzzle hits his chest.

"Get off of me or I shoot." Dean flicks the safety, and the last thing he expects to hear is a shuddering moan. Humans, he'll never understand them.

Jeeves moans again, takes Dean's wrist and Dean's too fucking stunned to pull the trigger. Shooting people isn't what he does, and for all Jeeves's enthusiastic rutting, he's clearly not a jizz-sucking incubus.

The door bangs open and for second Dean thinks the sound and the sudden flare means somehow his finger squeezed the trigger, but the light stays. Jeeves's eyes are glittering, his teeth bared, and Dean's treated to the sight of the guy twisting his head down to lick at the barrel of his gun, lewd and wet, and for chrissakes if he gets out of here alive, the thing's going to need to be disinfected.

"You ain't done yet?" Blue-eyes keeps the door open with his shoulder, a flare sizzling in his hand. There's bits and chunks of gore all over him, everywhere but around his eyes, left clean from the goggles hanging loose at his neck. Even if Dean's seen messier, it's always been something nasty and otherworldly doing the damage. He swallows hard thinking about what went on out there.

Jeeves grinds against Dean's thigh one last time before stopping unsatisfied. He puts a hand to Dean's face and thumbs at his lip, lightly slaps him once more across the face as if to say if you didn't shoot me already before he stands. He steps over Dean, yanks his knife back out of the wall, and rubs at his cock through his jeans. Dean's never felt more invisible in his life, and thankful for it.

"Can I keep 'em?" Jeeves asks, muscling in close to his brother. "Perty gun. Perty face."

Dean's skin crawls like it's stretched over a ball of snakes as the two assholes look him over like he's a piece of meat. The gun in his hand might as well be a rock for the good it's doing him. Dimly, in the back of his mind, he hopes that Sam's still at the motel. If he shows up now, things are only going to get messier.

"No pets." Blue-eyes claps a hand to Jeeves's neck, pulls him down to touch their foreheads together. "But I won't put him down if it'll make you feel better."

Jeeves looks disappointed as he tucks the butcher knife back into his pants, looks less so when a grenade gets slapped into his palm. He tosses Dean one last, unreadable glance, and then the two of them are gone, the door swinging to clap shut and a final, teeth-shattering blast shaking it on its hinges.

The whine of sirens finally gets Dean up on his feet. He does his pants back up and shivers, staring at the heavy weight of the gun before tucking it back into place. Surreal doesn't begin to explain the whirl of what-the-fucking-fuck going on inside his skull. He catches the handle of the door and pauses, gauges the size of the window instead and makes up his mind.

Whatever's out there, he doesn't want to see it. There are some nightmares he can live without facing.

And shit, but Sam's probably riled up over all the red and blue lights howling this way.

The sweeping beam of a flashlight skips through the crack under the door and Dean freezes. They've had a lot of shit pinned on them, but he's not keen on getting caught and having a barroom massacre added to the list.

He inches slowly away from the door, but not fast enough to avoid the hard smack of it into his face. Christ, it's like the universe has decided that tonight is the night to slap him around.

"Dean!" Light shines in his face and he shies away. "Dude, what happened? Are you okay?" Sam flips his grip on the flashlight to take him by the face, turn his head towards the faint glow of the streetlamp coming in from the window. "What the hell did you find?"

"Freaks," Dean says, shrugging away from Sam's concern. "Can we not talk about it and get out of here before the cavalry arrives?"

"The back door's blown to bits, we can go out that way, so you know...." Sam nods towards the front and no, Dean doesn't know, and he'd like to keep it that way.

"Next time I'm sticking with a six-pack in the room," Dean mumbles, praying that whatever he just stepped on hadn't been someone's finger. He's going to need a shower. A long one.

"I'll remember that."

"Please do."

"Freaks?" Sam asks as they burst into the cool night air and away from the stink of blood and bullets. Dean starts to take back his earlier assessment of Sam's brains, because his brother just doesn't know when to shut up.

"You remember the Benders?" he says. "Add a bigger arsenal, a Hitler fetish, and a disturbing tendency for— Let's just say these guys made those hillbillies look like the Hiltons."

"Oh." Sam's face flushes.

"Yep."

"Oh," Sam repeats, the colour draining away just as fast. "So, we skipping town? Nothing's panned out so far."

"Thought you'd never ask. You pack, I shower, and tonight never happened, got it?"

Sam opens his mouth, pauses and nods and tosses Dean the keys. "Got it."

*
End