Posted on 2011.06.29 at 05:34
So, a couple of years ago, I wrote some fics for an exchange. I couldn't claim them then, because that would have spoiled the fun! But, I think I want to claim them now, because I like them.
The first fic here is Hancock/Thomson, rated R. Really not my cup of tea. However, it was a request, and I think I pulled it off pretty well. Yes, I know now that there was another 1776 fic by that name. I'm not plagiarizing that fic. ;) ( The WatcherCollapse )
This one is Dickinson/Wilson, one-sided with BDSM themes. Rated PG-13.( GreenCollapse )
This one is Courier/Leather Apron. It's also PG-13, and I really like this one. I couldn't think up names for the boys, hence the title... ( AnonymityCollapse )
Posted on 2010.02.09 at 06:49
Edit: Nevermind, this doesn't link right to him. The game is fun, though! I'll post a mass entry with all my '76ers later!
Sailor Moon Dress Up Game
It's Sailor Neddy!
Posted on 2009.07.06 at 02:05
Yeah, so I think this may be the dirtiest thing I've ever written, and there's not even any sex. Ah, the joys of the human mind.
Fandom: Angels and Demons (I know, I know! Trust me, it's an even guiltier pleasure than wrestling for me!)
Pairing: Camerlengo Ventresca/Cardinal Mortati (in a way); That's McKenna/Strauss to the movie-oriented folk. It's really more like Ventresca/Mortati/God, or rather Ventresca/Mortati/Catholicism
Rating: R, for "Really freaking twisted!"
Warnings: Spiritual ecstasy, improper thoughts about communion elements
Summary: Camerlengo Carlo Ventresca is enamored with his religion and all of its rituals. He knows nothing of "sublimation" or "transference"; he knows only his adoration. ( Carlo had taken a lover, and that lover's name was Deus.Collapse )
Posted on 2009.05.28 at 03:20
Have you ever tried to change yourself for someone you were in a relationship with (or wanted to be in a relationship with)? Did it work?
Not once I figured out that I liked the person that I am better than the person that he wanted me to be.
Posted on 2009.03.18 at 03:58
Current Location: TC
Current Mood: accomplished
So, since the Contest seems to have died with *my* topic (which I would very much like to have answered, by the way), I'd like to try to breathe some life back into it. Though this isn't really an entry, as it's not even on the right community for them, I thought it might provide a little inspiration for the fandom. On with the show!
Title: House Calls
Rating: Probably R, as there is some dalliance with a minor, though the action does not go all the way
Pairing: Rutledge/Hall, of sorts
Warnings: This fic will be cutesy. I warn you now. If you liked my entry "Anonymity" on Secret Delegate, then you'll probably be into this. If you only like my more warped stuff...well, I'll write something up your alley before too long, I'm sure.
Background: So, while tooling around on the Internet, my dear friend and I found out that after being excused from the ministry in CT for "charges against his moral character," our dear Dr. Hall got a second doctorate, this time in medicine, and began practicing in Charleston, SC. At this time, our equally dear Mr. Rutledge would have been a teenager who was very precocious, very pretty, and very sickly. I have a feeling that something like this may have happened if Dr. Hall actually was Neddy's physician for a while. ( It seemed like a good idea at the time.Collapse )
Posted on 2008.10.29 at 02:31
Current Location: MHC
Current Mood: contemplative
Current Music: The sound of the gears in my head turning
Ahhh...Javert's such a nutter. Anyway, for anyone who has seen/read/heard of/talked to a friend whose mother had heard of Les Miserables, I have a question. So, as many of you have probably noticed, I like to slash pairings that don't *quite* go together. Now, I've come to a bit of a cropper. Javert is seriously obsessed with Valjean. Like, SERIOUSLY. As in, in the novel, Valjean suddenly becomes, "MY Jean Valjean." Is there a possible way to pair the two? Any way I look at it, I can't see Valjean going for it, which is a crying shame. So, is Javert to wallow in his own misery forever? And, if not, how on God's green(ish) Earth does he tell Valjean how he feels and STAY IN CHARACTER?! I mean, the man's not a talker, and he doesn't play the violin. Valjean's also not the brightest bulb on the tree--sweet guy, but subtle hints might escape him. I'm just seeing how this scene would play out if the two were to stay in character, and it's kind of reminding me of the Rocky Horror Picture Show:
Valjean: Uh huh?
Javert: I've got something to say.
Valjean:...(thinking: Don't say it asshole, sing it. It's a musical!)
Valjean:...Um...you were saying...?
Javert:...Right. Well. Back to jail with you, then.
You see how this is a problem. Any suggestions at all? Besides, "Oh, gross! Don't write this," I mean. Yes, Hannah, this means you.
Posted on 2008.07.23 at 03:53
WARNING: For those of you who don't know me, I'm prone to overdramatizing the mundane and anthropomorphizing inanimate objects. For those of you who do know me...well, this little eulogy is pretty much par for the course. And, yes, it's meant to be somewhat comedic--I'm not really in mourning over a car. Enjoy!
Silver Streak and I first met when I was 15 years old. I knew from first sight that she had a beautiful body, but I found out I was in love when I made that first shy, tentative press on the accelerator. Oh, was she ever responsive! She hummed as she knocked me back in my seat, and from that moment I knew she was a machine after my own heart.
Silver Streak and I had some wild times: we've driven from Texas to Massachusetts and back again, we've driven through hurricane-force winds and flood waters up to the headlights, we've driven to and from the Rocky Horror Picture Show at 3:00 in the morning, and we've driven to and from the Route Nine Diner even later than that. We've made food runs, airport runs, and Batman (well, Dark Knight) runs at hours that only the graveyard-shifters, the nocturnal, and the demented ever see. We've driven to wrestling events and softball games, and we've avoided water-spouts and chemical plant explosions. All this with neither a wreck nor a ticket--a perfect record after 5 years. Even when I abused her (like the time I locked my keys in the car while it was still running), she treated me well. And in return, I dolled her up like a queen--that is, if queens like butterflies, purple velvet and mirror ornaments.
Amazing how a (for once) normal drive can be the one that changes everything. Amazing how a driver can hit a slick patch of road at the exact second that a strong gust of wind blows the other way, how I could be going at the perfect speed (ironically enough, very close to the speed limit), at the perfect angle and the perfect size, to go into a SPECTACULAR spin.
I was driving forward, forward, forward, and then it was as though I hit a wall of air: I couldn't go forward anymore. The car was heading toward the concrete barrier at 60-65 mph. Finally, it spun around and around, and it hit one, two, three, four times before skidding about 100 feet to a stop (facing into oncoming traffic). The car, I'm quite sure, was totaled. However, as has been custom in my rides with Silver Streak, I managed to avoid hitting any other car (including a dump truck which was trapping me between itself and the concrete barrier), and I came out of the thing completely unharmed--not even a bruise. That little 2001 Ford Escort was loyal until the end.
Though Silver Streak may well be gone, she will not be forgotten--by anyone. She left her mark on the city (and not just because the TC police force named her). You can still see the tire tracks spiraling in all directions, and you can see four distinct silver patches and one silver, black and red scratch on the barrier...the whole scene lasts for well over 100 feet.
Silver Streak won't get a tearful goodbye. She won't see her parts start to break down, she won't get me any money for a trade-in, she won't see a new owner, and she won't be put out to pasture with the other cars that have lived long, dependable lives. In other words, she'll never live the life that, as a little fuel-efficient sedan, she was supposed to live. But you know what? If she's truly a car after my own heart, I know that she likes it better this way. Cue Bon Jovi's "Blaze of Glory": it's how she went out.
Posted on 2008.05.23 at 02:07
Current Location: Dixie
Current Mood: dorky
Current Music: just the voices in my head screaming, "For the love of God, don't write this!"
Title: Inhibitions and Exhibitions
Rating: R for Rutledge
Warnings: See above. Also, SoloM and voyeurism
Pairing: In a way, Adams/Rutledge, but this is NOT a lovey-dovey-fluffy fic in the least. ( I like it when people look at me; surely you must have noticed that, suh.Collapse )
Posted on 2008.05.18 at 01:24
Current Location: TC
Current Mood: dirty
Current Music: Molasses to Rum...Good God, I'm sick.
Sooooo...in honor of my never shipping real people, I thought I'd inform everyone that I didn't ship the couple I had in mind. I'm now merely planning on shipping fictional representations of real historical figures. Because that's...not...the same thing...as...
I don't have a leg to stand on, do I?
Oh, the aroma of hy-pocrisy. Point out the musical allusion and win...something.
Posted on 2008.03.27 at 03:21
Current Location: MHC
Current Mood: a special kind of horny
Current Music: "Johanna" from Sweeney Todd
Mea Culpa. Mea Culpa. Mea Maxima Culpa.
God, deliver me.
I don't ship real people. Shipping real people is gross. Shipping real people is creepy.
And I honestly would never write (or even read) fanfic about real people.
When certain real people just make the cutest darned couple ever, and they, sadly, are NOT A COUPLE...well, what's a poor girl to do?
Is mental shipping as bad as fanfic shipping?
Cookies if you can guess the origin of the supplications at the beginning of this post.