LOL We're BaaaaAAAAAAaack!
Due to the tumblr NSFW purge a lot of youngin's are threating to leave and on't know where to go. lol i gues fandom is moving back to its old haunts.
(probably for the best too. i don't have time to go into all the toxic shit tumblr has caused. More will happen with this move that isn't just the nsfw fandom stuff. people will see.)
Anyway it hilarious that this happened.
I feel so old though. XD
(no subject)
(raw writing)
It was not the perfect day for a murder.
No day is.
Today was bright and warm, perfect beach weather, and Samuel Staves was standing at the edge of a crime scene waiting for permission to enter, if he ever got any. Despite what television may tell you staff are not actually allowed all over a crime scene until the person in charge is present to say Ok ,Gather what you can and let’s go.” Private detectives got even less permission.
Good thing he wasn’t working this crime. Just waiting for a buddy he knew was here. Tate Caroll. Smart, cute, into crime solving, sandy haired and hazel eyed Officer Tate.
Sam had to sigh at his situation. Who waits around a crime scene to finally ask a guy out? Really? He’s been at this too long. There was no guarantee the guy was gonna say yes. This whole thing could be embarrassing for everyone.
He should probably leave now and just-
"Sam?"Well shit.
"Hey man, you’re not working this scene are ya?"
"If I was I wouldn’t be able to tell you."
"Ha. For real though, are you here for work?"
"Nope. Just here to see you."
"Why?"
'Cause I'm an idiot. “Bored. I’m done packing up the office. Mostly. I heard the sirens I thought you might be involved.”
The policeman laughed. “I’m not in every cop car, Stupid.”
"What? I was right wasn’t I?"
Sam looked toward the house beyond the police tape. Several cops guarding the perimeter were watching them. They must be new. Most of the force knew Sam. “So what’s going on here? Or can you not tell me?”
"Can’t tell yet. We got a noise complaint that developed into a potential homicide."
"Look like suicide?"
"I haven’t been inside."
"Gotcha. Hey umm…what’s happening toni-"
The policeman’s gaze had looked over slightly to the right, “Oh goddamnit!”
"What?" Sam looked back. "Oh."
There was the familiar car of the rising star investigative journalist Jason Markey. The guy was like a modern Tintin, young, nice, intelligent, out for justice. Sam didn’t see the problem with him really. The guy had outed several serial killers and syndicates with complete proof and helped put them away. It would be nice if more citizens were that attentive.
Tate hated him. Well, ‘hate’ is a strong word, Tate strongly disliked him. Tate disliked all journalists really. As much as he loved the use of mass media for giving out easy access information to the public they too often got shit wrong and that infuriated him to no end. They were like vigilantes with out actually breaking any laws but still ‘causing all sorts of trouble and messy paper work that got in the way of actual crime solving. All while sitting on their asses. The fact that Markey was successful (slightly more so than the police) was just down right insulting and counter what he believed to a be a law of society. That The Media is the fourth branch of American Government and that is is pure evil.
Sam figured this was a good reason to hold off asking out Tate. If he wasn’t going to listen to his own feeling he’ll at least listen to Tate’s and Tate was in a crappy mood now.
Tate groaned, “What the hell, I gotta go take care of this. I’ll see ya later.”
"Sure."
It was kind of curious that the journalist was here. So early in the case. It was so damn fresh and there is no way of really knowing that it’s connected to anything bigger than a suicide or a domestic murder. Hmm.
Medicinal Skirts (2/?)
Heliotrope art.
I know his feet are cut off and he has no face. This is all about the PJS. I did this in under 30 mins (i think). I just had to do it after seeing the entry @ community.livejournal.com/indeedsir/ but this is the entry. community.livejournal.com/indeedsir/9374
Medicinal Skirts pt. 1
Author: GunItNeko
Fandom: Jeeves and Wooster
Pairing: Bertie/Jeeves
Rating: R? (to be safe)
Warnings: AU, Slash, OOCness, unmanly lovings, cliche
Authors notes: I haven't read Wodehouse's books, I'm sorry. I've seen Hugh Laurie and Stephen Fry's portrayal and a lot of Fanfics but that's it. ENJOY!
( Medicinal Skirts 1Collapse )
----------------
Questions? Comments? Critiques?
100 themes Violet Shrinq 1-5
Any questions, just ask.
The 100 themes:
1. Introduction
“My name is Violet Shrinq. I am a necromancer. I understand you need my services?”
2. Love
Love. Is. Pointless. It’s a neutral power that cannot see the difference between good and evil, light or dark. It simply sees the parts that fit, and some that do not, and throws them together regardless of what gets in the way. Even when the love is pure, when the power is finished it is taken apart by the forces that would prevent it in the first place.
Violet’s mother and father loved each other for one night. Her mother loved her until after she was born. Her father loved her to his dying day, or so Violet thought, further thinking has given rise to questions. Violet thought a boy loved her until she revealed her gift to him. The ghost she summoned thought their love would last forever, until they died. Why does love even exist? It’s pointless.
3. Light
“Come towards the light,” Violet chanted calmly. Sure it was hard to keep a straight face saying it but it was important. She needed to speak with long dead relative of her client. The light was a beacon in the other world. Light was a comfort, familiar, focused. “Come towards the light.” Violet open her eyes to see the flame flicker. The summons had been answered.
4. Dark
“Come towards the light.” Darkness was as important as light. Without the dark, the light would be dimmed by other light. It would be hard to find. The darkness is as much a comfort as it is a fear. The darkness make the light that much brighter.
5. Seeking Solace
She always played the track when she couldn’t stand it anymore. When the cries of the departed were too loud or the questions in her own head became too much she would put on her Skullcandy headphones and play the track. It was a burned CD she made of the sound of her home videos. Her favorite was the sound of her fourth birthday. Her father’s voice, crisp and clear behind the camera, singing happy birthday to her while her own voice giggled in the background. There would be a brief silence of her blowing out the candles and then they would cheer and laugh together. This was the only physical proof she had of her father’s love. Her only proof that, she too, was innocent once. Proof that the world wasn’t always so bad. For a few hours, the world was just fine.
Without a Clue Fic: I Am an Actor After All
Author: GunITNeko
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (Without A Clue!movie)
Pairing(s): One-sided Kincaid!Holmes/ Watson
Summary: Holmes stops to think about who he is and why. The answer: it’s for him.
Warnings: Slash, Virgin writing (be gentle with me!), Unexplored fandom, unheard-of character pairing… I guess that’s it.
Author’s Notes: I hope you like it and I hope this will spark others to explore this venue. I’ve enjoyed writing this but… lurking is in my nature. I prefer to read other peoples stuff. I have written other scribbles but that’s all they are so far. Enjoy!
----------------------------------------
I… am an actor. Watson… is not. Well, that’s not entirely accurate. I should say “He is not a performer.” Unlike me, Watson gets stage-fright.
Watson is adorable when he gets stage-fright. His eyes widen, his breath quickens, he fidgets, and he tries so hard to please. He’s like a blushing virgin. I do sometimes wonder if he is the same in the bedroom. I would be lying if I said I never wanted to find out for myself, which I do; lie that is.
I’m an actor after all. I lie all the time. All for him.
I gave up everything for him. My career (such as it was), my habits (sort of), and my name (certainly) all to become his fantasy. His fantasy man: Sherlock Holmes. Clever, tall, debonair, focused, honest, heroic Holmes.
He wants Sherlock Holmes, not Reginald Kincaid. I’m not sure how I feel about that. Do I want him to like the true me or the illusion? I look at the pages he writes, the illustrations that come with them and… I almost wish I was that man. Sherlock Holmes. Alas, I am not.
But… I AM an actor after all. I can be whomever I want. I can be that for him. I WANT to be that for him and that’s just dandy.
oh shit. I'm graduating!
HOLY shit! It really hit me today, I'm graduating highscool. I just had my last real school day. Tomorrow is a half day for seniors and the week after is exams. I'm still frantic about that becuase my teacher hasn't updated her Edline so i don't now if i'm exempt from an exam or not, especially since I have one lined up right after it.
It hit me, hard. Hell, I became so nostolgic that I had to take a 3 to 4 hour nap. I keep looking off into space or the sky just thinking about how I'll probably never seen my class again. Not because no one tries to keep in touch with me, it's just that even though I have gotten to know my class mates, (some I've known since pre-k infact) it's just that I'm that anti-social I noticed. I share a bond with my class but it's not as strong as I think it is suppose to be. It's my own fault but my pont remains. I think I'm starting to have regrets. It's so daunting to know that my life is just starting even though my previous life is coming to an end. I'm not very sure of myself.
I have to stand on my own, and while i have an above average GPA... I have a bad feeling I'm gonna fall flat on my ass and fail my classes. College is a completely different world from highschool where I have almost had everything spoon fed to me. I'm feeling so depressed when I should be excited about leaving highschool. Admittedly, I AM excited about leaving, it's just...as I said before, I'm having regrets about how I didn't make as much of a social effort as I think I should have.
College is a new world, ergo, a new opportunity. To find myself and hopefully that self will be more social and fulfilling than the self before.
Lord, I look back at the letter i wrote myself as a freshman... I was so lonely. I must have been. I was so SHALLOW! I could kick myself. I guess that's all. Sorry for wasting cyber space but this had to go somewhere and pen and paper takes to long for me. By the time the sentece is written down I have forgotten the next one.
What a day. What a future.
R.I.P. Tiger
October 21,2007, Tiger was found dead in the yard. The body was to decayed to see the injuries clearly. he was last see on Thursday, October 18, 2007. Marc Anthony has a large hole in his side and is believed to be the survivor of whatever conflict Tiger encountered. Details are unknown but one thing is for sure, Tiger was killed. He was young and healthy, therefore old age or even disease are highly unlikely. This journal post is in memory of him. He's with his brother Garfield now, who died December 25, 2005 of injection.
Rest in peace, both of you.
Chack fic bit
Title: (tbd)
Summary: Jack should be more careful about what he breaks.
rating NC-17
Disclaimer: NOT MINE! XS IS NOT MINE!
for the record. This is the unbeta'd version. So don't critic TOO harshly. Constructive criticism if recieved.
If there was ever a more obvious time that Jack lost his mind, he’d have to think of it later as an excuse to Chase for what he did.
Jack’s arousal had come back for another round and wasn’t leaving anytime soon. The youth had squirmed, called, and nipped at the evil overlord to wake him up for assistance. One can only do so much when their hands are tied to their own bed. Jack had become so frustrated he did the only thing the felt was suitable to both wake and punish the heylin warrior.
He kicked Chase Young off the bed.
The man landed with an audible thud and growl as he struck the ground. Jack wasn’t sane enough to give a hoot about evoking the dragon’s wrath. He was a needy, helpless, evil genius and Chase had the gall to fall asleep on him in his Hour… hours of sexual need that he agreed to appease.
Chase had hauled himself up to glare at the youth on the bed and was met with an equally angry pair of red eyes. Chase, not one to tolerate such insolence, rose up and over the youth placing his hands on either side of Jack’s head.
Now that the dragon was directly over the albino (where Jack’s body believed it belonged), the red head bucked up and closed his eyes on a moan, completely ignoring the growling and fang bearing from Chase.
Jack’s actions reminded Chase of what was still happening here. He mentally calmed himself and noted that Jack would never do this under ‘normal’ circumstances. The aphrodisiac was still in effect and would continue to rob jack of his sanity until later. For now, he’ll have to bear with the boy’s actions.
The day would come when Jack obeyed him in bed, but not right now. “Why didn’t you just call me?” Chase gritted out.
“I did,” Jack answered. “you sleep like a rock. Speaking of which, mines as hard as one.” Jack panted and bucked up to prove his prick…er … point.