Entry tags:
Entry tags:
FIC: A Class Act (Chicago, Mama Morten/Velma Kelly, R)
SUMMARY: 'Mama remembers a time when she only had prisoners in her office when they needed something from her.'
( Read more... )
( Read more... )
Entry tags:
FIC: King of the World (Queer as Folk, Stuart/Vince, R)
PROMPT: AU - Vince is Nathan’s age, and the two are thick-as-thieves. They decide to head down to Canal street one night, and Vince meets the infamous SAJ. Stuart takes him home, and then to the hospital.
( Nathan pulled first. )
( Nathan pulled first. )
Entry tags:
FIC: Doppelganger (Red Dwarf, Lister/Rimmer, R)
SUMMARY: This isn't what he's looking for.
( Rimmer carefully extricated himself from the arms of his snoring bunkmate... )
( Rimmer carefully extricated himself from the arms of his snoring bunkmate... )
FIC: Blood, Glitter, Sex, Magic (Crossover: BtVS/Harry Potter/Velvet Goldmine, R)
SUMMARY: The Maurauders go to see the Death of Glitter and meet some very interesting Muggles.
PAIRINGS: Various, principally Sirius/Remus, Ripper/Ethan.
NOTE: This story, like many others, owes a great debt to the very wonderful ‘Fairy Boys’ series by Auburn Crimson.
( Read more... )
PAIRINGS: Various, principally Sirius/Remus, Ripper/Ethan.
NOTE: This story, like many others, owes a great debt to the very wonderful ‘Fairy Boys’ series by Auburn Crimson.
( Read more... )
Entry tags:
FIC: From Time to Time (M*A*S*H, Frank/Trapper, R)
SUMMARY: A little time after a long day.
WARNINGS: Some dark content.
( Frank was squinting over his work... )
WARNINGS: Some dark content.
( Frank was squinting over his work... )
FIC: Four Dreams and a Nightmare (Devil May Cry + crossovers, Nightmare, R)
SUMMARY: Five things that never happened to Nightmare.
WARNINGS: Implied underage, implied incest, implied noncon.
( Read more... )
WARNINGS: Implied underage, implied incest, implied noncon.
( Read more... )
Entry tags:
DRABBLE SET: Order of the Phoenix drabbles (Harry Potter)
WARNINGS: Some dark content.
( Occlumency, Snape/Harry, PG-13 )
( Being There For Him, Tonks/Remus, R )
( Beautiful, Umbridge, G )
( Occlumency, Snape/Harry, PG-13 )
( Being There For Him, Tonks/Remus, R )
( Beautiful, Umbridge, G )
Entry tags:
DRABBLE SET: Dead Letters (Harry Potter, R)
NOTES: The idea of a Dead Letter is that a character is given a chance to write one 100 word letter to one person immediately after their death. I tend to take them as a challenge to fit as much story into as short a space as possible :) These aren't meant to be companion pieces.
( Cedric )
( Harry )
( Draco )
( Dumbledore )
( Cho )
( Neville )
( Hermione )
( Ron )
( Cedric )
( Harry )
( Draco )
( Dumbledore )
( Cho )
( Neville )
( Hermione )
( Ron )
Entry tags:
DRABBLE: Tomcat (Harry Potter, Harry/?, R)
WARNINGS: (Technically) underage, potentially squicky.
~
In his sixth year, Harry Potter became an Animagus. Unlike his father, he had the help and consent of Dumbledore when he did it. Like his father, he used his shape at night, when he shouldn't, for reasons he shouldn't.
He had wondered if maybe he would become a stag. No. Nothing like it. He was glad of it. His shape was a large cat, coal black, with wide green eyes. Perfect. Better than an Invisibility Cloak, in some ways. The Cloak just made him unseen. This made him unnoticed.
He knew, really, he shouldn't use it to slink round the school, keeping an eye on the Slytherins, exploring the corners he'd never had access to before. But it was too exciting, this new world of darkness he could see through and smells he could taste and feel, far too exciting to give up. Besides, there was Her.
It had only been a couple of weeks after his first transformation when he met Her for the first time, stalking through the corridors as if she owned them. She'd fixed him with imperious amber eyes, wide and black-ringed. There was a challenge there, and he didn't know whether to fight or retreat. Then he smelt the musk rising off her.
Their matings were brief, frantic, wild. He would yowl to the echoing corridors and bury himself inside her, and claw at her tawny back, and she would give him back bite for scratch, or knock him on his back and run away. But never too fast.
The more desperate the battles on the outside became, the more he needed this world. The darkness, and the scent, and the tight heat of her around him, the branding claw marks, the chance, just once, to take the pain and deal it out and not worry about control.
It was becoming increasingly difficult to look McGonnagal in the eye in class. But it was worth it.
~
In his sixth year, Harry Potter became an Animagus. Unlike his father, he had the help and consent of Dumbledore when he did it. Like his father, he used his shape at night, when he shouldn't, for reasons he shouldn't.
He had wondered if maybe he would become a stag. No. Nothing like it. He was glad of it. His shape was a large cat, coal black, with wide green eyes. Perfect. Better than an Invisibility Cloak, in some ways. The Cloak just made him unseen. This made him unnoticed.
He knew, really, he shouldn't use it to slink round the school, keeping an eye on the Slytherins, exploring the corners he'd never had access to before. But it was too exciting, this new world of darkness he could see through and smells he could taste and feel, far too exciting to give up. Besides, there was Her.
It had only been a couple of weeks after his first transformation when he met Her for the first time, stalking through the corridors as if she owned them. She'd fixed him with imperious amber eyes, wide and black-ringed. There was a challenge there, and he didn't know whether to fight or retreat. Then he smelt the musk rising off her.
Their matings were brief, frantic, wild. He would yowl to the echoing corridors and bury himself inside her, and claw at her tawny back, and she would give him back bite for scratch, or knock him on his back and run away. But never too fast.
The more desperate the battles on the outside became, the more he needed this world. The darkness, and the scent, and the tight heat of her around him, the branding claw marks, the chance, just once, to take the pain and deal it out and not worry about control.
It was becoming increasingly difficult to look McGonnagal in the eye in class. But it was worth it.
Entry tags:
DRABBLE: In the Dark (Harry Potter, Harry/Snape, R)
WARNINGS: Some dark content.
~
Harry woke to warm lips on his mouth; startled, he gasped and nearly choked. Immediately, hands were around him, soothing, apologising silently... there were words he would never say aloud. One of them was sorry. The others were -
"I love you."
What? He could barely believe that he's heard it. He was given no chance to respond as those lips closed over him, demanding, hot.... a contrast to the freezing fingertips that were burrowing under his shirt, scrabbling, ripping, getting to his skin in any way they could. His mouth tasted strange, a tang of something sharp he couldn't quite place; probably some obscure potion he'd been working on. Every sensation was magnified by the complete absence of light. He wondered if Severus had used some sort of charm on him, as he had once before, to act as a blindfold, but he wasn't touching him as if he was playing games. Those hands were the most earnest he had ever felt them. So as his eyes were no use, he closed them, and surrendered to the sensation and the lips and tongue which seemed to have lost all their reserve.
It was only when the touches slackened and stopped, and he conjured a light to find out why, that he recognised the taste in his mouth as blood.
~
Harry woke to warm lips on his mouth; startled, he gasped and nearly choked. Immediately, hands were around him, soothing, apologising silently... there were words he would never say aloud. One of them was sorry. The others were -
"I love you."
What? He could barely believe that he's heard it. He was given no chance to respond as those lips closed over him, demanding, hot.... a contrast to the freezing fingertips that were burrowing under his shirt, scrabbling, ripping, getting to his skin in any way they could. His mouth tasted strange, a tang of something sharp he couldn't quite place; probably some obscure potion he'd been working on. Every sensation was magnified by the complete absence of light. He wondered if Severus had used some sort of charm on him, as he had once before, to act as a blindfold, but he wasn't touching him as if he was playing games. Those hands were the most earnest he had ever felt them. So as his eyes were no use, he closed them, and surrendered to the sensation and the lips and tongue which seemed to have lost all their reserve.
It was only when the touches slackened and stopped, and he conjured a light to find out why, that he recognised the taste in his mouth as blood.
Entry tags:
DRABBLE: Visions (Harry Potter, Ginny, R)
WARNINGS: Underage, some dark content.
~
Ginny learned a Silencing Charm in Second Year. It stopped her waking her dorm mates up with the screaming.
The dreams, which had almost gone away over the summer, came back again with the force of a fist when she came back to the place where it had happened. It seemed like every room, every hallway and every long and twisting corridor was etched with what she had done there, the thoughts she had had.... the writing was on the walls.
The dreams - they twined around her subconscious, elusive and fascinating, or burned through her gut like acid, so she woke up choking back vomit.
The easiest ones were where he killed her. Sometimes a curse, sometimes a knife blow, sometimes a quick snap of the neck... red-soaked dreams that made her bristle with fear, but at least they were easy to wake from. The moment of death jolted her from sleep; she never followed it down, into the inky blackness.....
Sometimes he would torture her first, silent and deadly or crowing with triumph at her pain. Those visions made her wonder whether, perhaps, he lingered in her mind still; whether they hadn't been able to root all of him out. Because surely she would never think of anything like that.
But worst of all were the dreams where he was gentle with her. Where he held her in his arms, soothed his with his dark, rich voice and fine boned hands, feather light, stroking, stroking.... reaching inside her clothes, drawing spiderwebs on her skin, stripping her down, opening her up for him, hearing her hiss of breath as his sharp teeth branded her neck.... because he wouldn't have done that. That wasn't him. So where did it come from?
She knew there was a possibility she could be cured. That there were people, or spells, that might be able to help her. She never sought them out. Partly, she feared that they would fail, and she would be left with these images in her mind for the rest of her life, unable to escape him or even to hope for escape.
But mostly, she feared they would succeed, and she would never feel his touch on her again.
~
Ginny learned a Silencing Charm in Second Year. It stopped her waking her dorm mates up with the screaming.
The dreams, which had almost gone away over the summer, came back again with the force of a fist when she came back to the place where it had happened. It seemed like every room, every hallway and every long and twisting corridor was etched with what she had done there, the thoughts she had had.... the writing was on the walls.
The dreams - they twined around her subconscious, elusive and fascinating, or burned through her gut like acid, so she woke up choking back vomit.
The easiest ones were where he killed her. Sometimes a curse, sometimes a knife blow, sometimes a quick snap of the neck... red-soaked dreams that made her bristle with fear, but at least they were easy to wake from. The moment of death jolted her from sleep; she never followed it down, into the inky blackness.....
Sometimes he would torture her first, silent and deadly or crowing with triumph at her pain. Those visions made her wonder whether, perhaps, he lingered in her mind still; whether they hadn't been able to root all of him out. Because surely she would never think of anything like that.
But worst of all were the dreams where he was gentle with her. Where he held her in his arms, soothed his with his dark, rich voice and fine boned hands, feather light, stroking, stroking.... reaching inside her clothes, drawing spiderwebs on her skin, stripping her down, opening her up for him, hearing her hiss of breath as his sharp teeth branded her neck.... because he wouldn't have done that. That wasn't him. So where did it come from?
She knew there was a possibility she could be cured. That there were people, or spells, that might be able to help her. She never sought them out. Partly, she feared that they would fail, and she would be left with these images in her mind for the rest of her life, unable to escape him or even to hope for escape.
But mostly, she feared they would succeed, and she would never feel his touch on her again.
Entry tags:
DRABBLE: Honest (Harry Potter, Draco/?, R)
WARNINGS: Some dark content.
~
You love me. Hah. Don’t try to hide it; you can’t hide anything from me anymore. That’s your fault, you know. All your fault. You open up, you spread yourself to my eyes.
And I take what I want, and I leave.
And you knew that.
Sometimes I wonder why I ever wanted to fuck such an idiot. But there’s something….. intriguing about you. About the way you give yourself up to me. Some masochistic impulse, perhaps? After all, I’ve never been anything but honest with you. You knew I was going to hurt you. You knew I was going to tear you up and glut myself on your blood and your pain and then leave you there. You knew. And still you followed.
Pathetic, really. Beaten dog trailing along at his master’s heels. You stupid little bitch. You don’t really think your devotion will make me care for you, do you?
I don’t care. I could leave you tomorrow. Maybe I will. But then again, maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll stay and watch you rot from the inside out. Is that why you stay? Do you just want to know how long I’ll stick around?
Or how long you can take it?
Is this your punishment to yourself, perhaps? Are you atoning for some sin here? Bad move, motherfucker. Don’t you dare try to use me. There’s no forgiveness here, just sin and sin and more sin, forever and ever, amen.
But I was forgetting. You don’t want to use me. You love me.
It’s almost funny. The one person in the world…. the only one who ever loved me. And it’s you. Not my father, not my mother, not my mentors, not my friends. You. You pathetic little son of a bitch. The irony’s thick enough to choke on.
Get up and leave, why don’t you? What have you got here? I’m only going to hurt you again. And you don’t want that. You hate it when I’m cruel, however hard you bite your upper lip. However many tears you refuse to cry for me.
Moron. Don’t stay. Don’t love me. Get out and never come back, before I tear the place down around your head. But you won’t, will you? No, you’ll stick around. You’re far to keen to be a martyr. A martyr to your love. Hah.
Fine. Have it your way. Get on your knees again, bitch.
~
You love me. Hah. Don’t try to hide it; you can’t hide anything from me anymore. That’s your fault, you know. All your fault. You open up, you spread yourself to my eyes.
And I take what I want, and I leave.
And you knew that.
Sometimes I wonder why I ever wanted to fuck such an idiot. But there’s something….. intriguing about you. About the way you give yourself up to me. Some masochistic impulse, perhaps? After all, I’ve never been anything but honest with you. You knew I was going to hurt you. You knew I was going to tear you up and glut myself on your blood and your pain and then leave you there. You knew. And still you followed.
Pathetic, really. Beaten dog trailing along at his master’s heels. You stupid little bitch. You don’t really think your devotion will make me care for you, do you?
I don’t care. I could leave you tomorrow. Maybe I will. But then again, maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll stay and watch you rot from the inside out. Is that why you stay? Do you just want to know how long I’ll stick around?
Or how long you can take it?
Is this your punishment to yourself, perhaps? Are you atoning for some sin here? Bad move, motherfucker. Don’t you dare try to use me. There’s no forgiveness here, just sin and sin and more sin, forever and ever, amen.
But I was forgetting. You don’t want to use me. You love me.
It’s almost funny. The one person in the world…. the only one who ever loved me. And it’s you. Not my father, not my mother, not my mentors, not my friends. You. You pathetic little son of a bitch. The irony’s thick enough to choke on.
Get up and leave, why don’t you? What have you got here? I’m only going to hurt you again. And you don’t want that. You hate it when I’m cruel, however hard you bite your upper lip. However many tears you refuse to cry for me.
Moron. Don’t stay. Don’t love me. Get out and never come back, before I tear the place down around your head. But you won’t, will you? No, you’ll stick around. You’re far to keen to be a martyr. A martyr to your love. Hah.
Fine. Have it your way. Get on your knees again, bitch.