[sticky post] Just a minor public service announcement

Brought to you by caffeine, porn, and sundry addictions.

This journal is almost exclusively flocked. Access has been culled. And while it's partly because I rant and rave on occasion, it's mostly just me liking my privacy from the general public.

Also? I'm a control freak. I like having control over who sees what parts of me. *shrug*
I bitch about my legion of muses. I think they spend more time Vacationing in Bora-Bora than Actually Working.
Sometimes I share snippets. When I'm in a good mood, it's smutty.

Feel free to comment and request access. Bear in mind it isn't guaranteed.

My F&F fanfic Cinnamon & Nutmeg has moved over here to AO3. All chapter posts on this blog are being removed and I cannot guarantee their availability, nor will I post further updates here. Make sure you check them out, they've been revised and edited and I'll be posting new content updates (at sporadic intervals to be decided by the muses).

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[fic] Imagine a World Without Labels. (For Oleg)

Once upon a time there a was a bird.
But the bird was born into a skin that didn't feel right.
Wasn't shaped right.
Didn't look anything like it should, in fact.

Bird spent decades listening to others denigrate the shape and look of the skin that didn't feel right. It was too fat, it was too thin, it was too pale, it didn't have enough shape. Was too many hard planes and solid muscle to fit in over there, missing too many pieces to fit in over here.

Finally, Bird drew a picture on its ill-fitting skin so that everyone would be able to see what Bird truly was. To end the confusion. 

It didn't change the fact that nothing about Bird's body looked right. Not to Bird's eyes. And when Bird tried, all that resulted were accusations of ill health, or drug use.

Bird gave up.

Resigned with the fact that the skin would never look the way it was supposed to, would never reflect who Bird truly was.

"I am Bird, I am Dragon, I am Unicorn. I am neutral, I am who I wish to be. I am bigger than my body, don't stand too close. One day soon it will rip, no longer able to contain me."

Rebirth is a bloodbath, dirty and violent and vicious. Bird would stop if it were possible, the repetition gets tiring. Over and over, rebuilding from the ashes, reforming self identity after shedding the viscous sludge others call labels. But still the skin was always there, the same ill-fitting wrong-looking horrid thing.

 Bird stared in the mirror at all the ugly lines that didn't portray what they should. The bit of ink that whispered the truth.
"I guess this is what I'm stuck with."

[fic] Where Are You Going?

All of the entries for this fanfic that were originally posted here have been edited, revised, and in some cases expanded--and now reside over on AO3. Follow this link to the series Cinnamon & Nutmeg.
Any content that was here in this journal is now deleted.
Comments and critique are welcome. I make no bones about the fact that this is fan fiction. The boys and the plot are not mine, though the interpretation and occasional scenes that venture out of canon are. First person isn't for everyone, so be forewarned. The playlist is here. And desperately needs me to go back through it and refresh the links to viable videos. I've cleaned it up some, but it'll be updated again in the near future too.

fic: Where Are You Going [13/?]

Brian’s Impressions

Dom laughs; I feel the vibration of it in my chest, tighten my arms around the man’s body. Have long since stopped caring what anyone but Dom thinks about things. Well, with the exception of Rome, perhaps. Dom’s fingers stroke my neck, thumb caressing the edge of my jaw. How long has it been since I let anyone touch me? Don’t know. Can’t remember; can’t think with Dom’s skin against mine. Think Dom probably knows it, too – maybe it’s the reason he never included me in the general practices of casual physical contact he used with the rest of his team.

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fic: Where Are You Going [12/?]

Dom’s Reflections

Who do you need, who do you love, when you come undone? ~ Duran Duran

Brian slides through the turn, tight as you please, Skyline tucked and neat. Big, heavy Chevelle can’t do it quite as gracefully, and I know it. Feel the ass end slide over, the jolt of steel frame on fiberglass. It sends a chill through me.

“You are one quarter mile from your destination.”

I look over at Brian. He’s looking at me.

It’s on, damn it. Show me what you got, snowman.


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Night Mare

fic: Where Are You Going [11/?]

Brian’s Impressions

When I was a boy, didn’t care about a thing It was me and this world and a broken dream I was blaming myself for all that was going wrong ~ Papa Roach, “Lifeline”

 “Bring him up, Toretto.” I keep my voice level and even, despite the adrenaline that’s dumping into my bloodstream, despite the pulse suddenly hammering in my temple. My gun dips down toward the floor, the muscles in my arms going lax. It figures he would be able to ferret out the same leads as me, in less time.

I can’t believe he’s dangling the man out the window, holding his full weight like that.

Shit, he looks thinner. Harder. Dominic Toretto, distilled and concentrated. That’s not a good thing. Not in anyone’s world.

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fic: Where Are You Going [10/?]

So, it turns out the RTE on LJ works just fine -- if you use IE. :/ Since I prefer Chrome, it took me a while to get annoyed with the lack of functionality, and go hunting for the reason behind it. *pfft* This chap is largely canon, relatively short. One of three I intended to post yesterday. As always, any and all comments/crits are welcome. I don't own them, not making money, and don't mean to imply anything about the sexual orientation of the actors portraying the characters (LOL, I wish!).

Dom’s Reflections

Mia’s broken voice comes over the long-distance connection like a knife. “It’s Letty. She’s been murdered.”

The world just kinda grinds to a halt around me. Noisy crowd fades away. She says something else, but it sounds like I’m at the bottom of a well and her voice is echoing off the walls.

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