angelgazing (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
angelgazing) wrote2005-03-30 01:48 am
angelgazing) wrote2005-03-30 01:48 am
Entry tags:
she's a rebel; she's a saint
Thing teh first: New layout! With a banner by mah twin and the linkies all lines from Chrystal's kick-ass poetry. (Really, s'what it's called. See memories.)
Thing teh second: I know some genius ass people are on my f-list. I know it. That being said, HELP ME. I do not want to research and yet it seems I am going to be writing a fic set in teh ol' west. I need to know some things for this. Like... opium and rent boy are both British, right? What would the ol' west American versions of those be?(OMG because Charlie with his eyes wide and glazed over on his knees--)
Thing teh third: You, you who isn't reading this but who is totally to blame for the images in my head! I love you. lmao
Thing teh fourth: In celebration of my new layout and my great enjoyment of the friend-of number currently being hidden from you all and--and just because I am a fucking sheep [baaah] I cave, for finally and so:
1. Comment and I'll pick one or two of your lj interests and write you a drabble.
2. You have no say as to what I write for you or as to how much it will suck.
3. Copy this and the drabble that is written for you into your journal. (Optional)
You also have no promises that it'll be done soon or soon-ish or whatever. Or that it'll actually be drabble length. Yes, yes I do suck.
Thing teh second: I know some genius ass people are on my f-list. I know it. That being said, HELP ME. I do not want to research and yet it seems I am going to be writing a fic set in teh ol' west. I need to know some things for this. Like... opium and rent boy are both British, right? What would the ol' west American versions of those be?
Thing teh third: You, you who isn't reading this but who is totally to blame for the images in my head! I love you. lmao
Thing teh fourth: In celebration of my new layout and my great enjoyment of the friend-of number currently being hidden from you all and--and just because I am a fucking sheep [baaah] I cave, for finally and so:
1. Comment and I'll pick one or two of your lj interests and write you a drabble.
2. You have no say as to what I write for you or as to how much it will suck.
3. Copy this and the drabble that is written for you into your journal. (Optional)
You also have no promises that it'll be done soon or soon-ish or whatever. Or that it'll actually be drabble length. Yes, yes I do suck.
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Like This, He Smiled
James/Remus - wall!sex (well, I tried) - 100 words
At two thirty-five on Friday morning, after tossing and turning for a bloody week, Remus calms down. It hits him, at all once, like a shot Firewhisky in winter, when it hits his stomach and stops his shivering.
James laughs, mouth curving in a smile as his tongue wraps around Remus' fingertips one at a time, like he knows. In the empty, dusty, dark corner of a corridor no one uses, map-to-be parchment wrinkling in his fist, James laughs, and pushes Remus further into the stone wall behind him, like he can push him through it. And Remus is calm.
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Harry/Draco - gothic architecture (sort of) - 100 words
It's over, eventually. It's over, but not really. Draco walks through the place he was born, under high ceilings and low hanging cobwebs, steps softened by dust. Not even rodents walk here anymore. It clogs his throat, makes him shudder, as portraits of his ancestors watch, silent and defeated, every place he moves.
Draco, hands at his sides, reads the spines of the books still left on the selves in his father's study. Titles and names in golden, curved, script. He doesn't remember what he's looking for. Harry presses his fingers against the small of Draco's back to remind him.
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Sirius/Remus - 100 words
It's raining outside again. Like it has every day this week, through the sun that's still shining, the sky that's still blue, it's raining. Remus curls his fingers around a sweating glass of lemonade, reclined in a deck chair. His t-shirt sticks to him, humidity and heat dragging everything down, making him lazy.
Sirius sits at his feet, head on Remus' knee, cigarette dangling in his fingers. He smiles, lazily, eyes closed, breathing evenly, the way he does when he naps on the beach, sand in his hair and hands. Remus watches rain fall off the leaves of palm trees.
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Thank you so much!
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Harry/Draco - phones - 100 words
Draco sighs at July, heavy-handed in its ending, hanging over his head. There are banners in the streets of Hogsmeade, in the windows of stores, like today is a day for all to celebrate. And he turns his back on London, cups his hands around the greasy-slick black receiver of the payphone, and says, "You are the most ridiculous man I've ever met. You don't know when to stop, you don't know when to start, you drink beer that tastes like cat piss and your hair is stupid." He sighs, again, and he says, "Happy birthday, Harry, you impossible tosser."
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Harry/Draco - travelling - 100 words
The train moves along, slowly, wheels turning over and over, the chugachugachuga a silly reminder of things before and things before. Of sneakers in the air and losing, pumpkin pasties and chocolate frogs, new friendships and rivalries older than any of them will ever be. The train rocks, on its way to a place with a name that Harry's forgotten and Draco never bothered to learn.
They've got a bag of things between them that goes from place to place. And it's all they need, maybe--Harry's almost certain, when Draco looks at him from the corner of his eye.
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And just perfect with timing. Of course, my timing in replying is dodgy - but, as I was travelling, myself, I have an excuse. Maybe.
And it was Harry/Draco. And thank you.
*butterfly kisses*
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Firefly - 100 words
The captain forgets things cause he needs to, forgets what home is, where the sky and sun are big, so that this can be home, where the sky is endless and they never land for long. Zoe forgets war, forgets bodies left behind, so she can sleep with Wash's fingers in her hair and his mouth at the back of her neck. Kaylee forgets her daddy so she doesn't know lonely. Inara forgets Mal's name, so she won't say it. Simon doesn't forget things, not like she does, not like everyone else does either. River forgets everything but their secrets.
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Resistence is futile.
::giggles::
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I got the lj-loving even when locked up! Squee!
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(George Michael/Maeby) - High heels - 100 words
"Okay," Maeby says, to the mirror, to the room she still shares with George Michael, to the curl in front that won't be pushed back. "Okay," she repeats, like a sigh, like she's saying, "Yeah, I can. I can." Her dress is black, and it's not for mourning. Her lip glass tastes like cherries and she's wearing her grandma's necklace and a pair of pointy-toed high heels she stole from her mom.
George Michael nearly trips, when he opens the door without knocking and says, "Oh, oh wow. Um, you. You look… Wow."
"Okay," Maeby says, and smiles. "Let's go."
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I've been wanting to write GM/M for a little while, but I haven't seen any of the third season yet, and I would hate to leave something out. Le sigh.
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