aka bloodnfire

SPN fic: wild tigers i have known [Jo/Bela - 2200 words - nc-17]

sendthewolves — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 15:17:45 GMT

I have to post this now or I never will. Certainly not satisfied with it, but it's the first thing I've written in almost a year.

Title: Wild Tigers I Have Known
Pairing: Jo/Bela
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Written for the prompt Film Noir: Femme fatale!Bela comes to Private Investigator!Jo for help. I just want them smoking cigarettes, drinking whiskey, and having sex on Jo's desk. at blindfold_spn. Many thanks to kiwiana for the beta. Title from Emily Jane White.

"I need a favor," Bela says, and Jo looks up from the paper in front of her. Bela is no more than a silhouette in the doorway, Jo's desk lamp too dull to chase away the shadows, but Jo would recognize that accent anywhere.

"Is that so?" she says, leaning back in her chair. The springs squeak in protest, cheap piece of junk. "I don't recall owing you one."

"Perhaps," Bela saunters closer, heels clicking on the dusty floor. She looks good, now she's reached the light; she slips off her coat and tosses it over the back of the spare chair, reveling a sleek black dress. Jo can't help noticing the way it hugs her curves. "Or perhaps not yet."

"Still talking in riddles?" Jo says, feigning boredom. Her interest is certainly piqued - but this is Bela, who operates entirely in lies and half-truths.

"Well, if you're not interested," Bela reaches for her coat. It's a bluff, and Jo knows it, but she can't stop herself.

"Wait." A smile spreads across Bela's face, somewhere between the cat that got the cream and a wolf that's tasted blood. "You've got two minutes to convince me. If you're planning on lying to me, just remember - I know a lot of people who would pay a pretty penny for your whereabouts. "

"Turning snitch, Jo? Is business that bad?"

"Hardly, but I'd make an exception for you, sweetheart," she gestures for Bela to sit, sick of looking up at her and determined not to rise herself. Bela makes a display of artfully crossing her legs, giving Jo a glimpse of creamy thigh above the line of her stockings.

"Now, now, you want to hear this." Bela says. She places her purse on Jo's desk and when she opens it to pull out her silver cigarette case Jo sees the glint of a revolver. Bela pulls out two cigarettes between her long, slim fingers. Jo knows intimately just what Bela can do with those hands; equally capable of lightening your pockets as leaving you wrung out from pleasure.

Jo takes the cigarette Bela offers her, leaning forward to light it from the match between Bela's thumb and forefinger. She inhales deeply and feels calmed. Bela's presence always seems to throw her off balance.

"You were saying?" Jo asks, watching smoke curl from between Bela's lips.

"Not going to offer me a drink?" Bela replies. "You're hardly a gracious hostess."

"We can't all run in those high society circles you so love to con," Jo says, but she pulls out the flask she keeps in the bottom drawer. There are glasses in her office, but damned if she knows where. Bela doesn't seem to mind anyway, simply unscrews the cap and takes a long swallow. Jo can't help smirking when Bela winces at the burn of the whiskey.

"And we can't all have been raised by bootleggers and had our taste buds burned off by moonshine," Bela says. "That is simply vile."

She takes another sip anyway, smaller this time. Jo shrugs and takes another drag of her cigarette, watching the ripple of Bela's slender throat.

Bela catches her wandering eye and the corner of her mouth curls up slightly as she runs an appraising gaze over Jo, making Jo want to pull the brim of her fedora lower to hide the flush she feels burning her cheeks.

Jo holds out her hand for the flask and Bela hands it over, fingers brushing lightly against Jo's.

"Well?" Jo demands, after taking a grateful swallow of cheap whiskey. It's embarrassing that Bela can still get to her like this. Jo knows so much better.

"I've heard things," Bela says, putting out her cigarette in Jo's overflowing ashtray. "About what happened to you father."

Jo swallows down the lump she feels in her throat, says, "What kind of things?" as nonchalantly as she can.

"That it wasn't the cops that shot him." Jo's heart jumps into her throat. She wishes the flask in her hand was a gun, heavy and reassuring.

"Then who did?"

Bela shrugs, a strangely inelegant gesture for her.

"That's all I've got, I'm afraid. The source of that little tidbit and I are hardly friendly, but if you want to know more I can give you her name."

"Of course I want to know," Jo snaps, all her limbs suddenly full of coiled tension.

"Uh uh," Bela waves a finger at her. "I told you, I need a favor."

Jo's on her feet instantly. Fueled by rage, she leans over the desk so she's looming over Bela. "You're playing a dangerous game, lady. Don't try me, not about this."

Bela meets her gaze, both calm and defiant at once. "Oh please," she says. "I'll tell you in good time, but this is supposed to be a mutually beneficial arrangement. Sit down, and let's talk like the reasonable adults we claim to be."

Jo inhales sharply, turns away for a moment and forces herself to calm down. She doesn't sit though, instead pacing the short length of the office. Bela turns in her chair and watches her for a long moment before Jo finally stops and perches on the corner of the desk so she's looking down at Bela.

"Talk."

"The Winchesters," Bela says. "I understand that you're acquainted with them."

"Maybe," Jo says cautiously."Why?"

"They're in possession of something I need. Unfortunately, they've also fallen completely off the map."

"You're wasting your time," Jo says. "I don't know where Sam and Dean are-"

"I was under the impression that finding people who don't want to be found is what you do," Bela interrupts.

"And," Jo continues, ignoring her. "If I did, I wouldn't help you steal from them."

"Pathetic," Bela says, narrowing her eyes. "Here I am, offering you the lead that just might lead you to the truth about your father's killer, and you're too worried about misplaced loyalty. Do you really think those boys would spare you a thought if the situation were reversed?"

"Maybe not," Jo says quietly. "But that's my problem, not yours."

"Pathetic," Bela repeats. She pushes back the chair and stands, gathering her things together.

Jo grabs her wrist when Bela turns to go, says, "Wait."

"What?" Bela snaps impatiently and Jo uses her grip on Bela's wrist to pull her closer, pressing her lips to Bela's.

Considering Bela had been about to storm out of Jo's life again, she relaxes into the kiss easily, hands moving to Jo's hips, warm even through the pinstriped fabric of her trousers.

Jo's releases Bela's wrist, instead tangling her fingers in Bela's perfectly pinned hair, as Bela pulls Jo closer, simultaneously walking her backwards until Jo's forced to sprawl out on the desk. Something sticks uncomfortably into her back but she pays it no mind, wrapping her legs around Bela's waist and urging her forward.

She comes easily, crawling up on the desk so she's right on top of Jo, who runs her fingers along Bela's stockings; up and up until she finds smooth skin instead of silky fabric. Bela is already hot and wet between her legs when Jo slides her fingers past Bela's garter and under her slip.

Bela sighs against Jo's neck when Jo rubs her thumb over her clit, presses two fingers inside her and Bela rocks her hips down on Jo's hand. Jo crooks her fingers just so; she knows where all Bela's sweet spots are and Bela moans, low and almost guttural, right beside Jo's ear. Her voice breaks when Jo adds a third finger, feeling Bela stretch and flutter around her hand.

Jo feels a pulse of arousal hot between her own legs, and she bucks against Bela's thigh, desperate for any kind of friction. Bela lifts her head long enough to grin down at Jo, smug as always; like she thinks she's winning. Then Bela's slipping her hand down between them, rubbing Jo through her trousers, and pushing herself up and down on Jo's fingers, keeping with the rhythm Jo has set.

Bela is soaking wet, all it takes is Jo flicking her thumb across her clit one final time to have her clenching tight, shaking and gasping, and the fingers that were working Jo towards orgasm stall, instead gripping Jo's thigh tight.

For a long moment Bela just lays there, breathing heavily, her chest pressed up against Jo's so Jo can feel her heart pounding. Somewhere along the line Jo lost her fedora, her hair now loose and sticking to her sweat-damp skin.

"Mmm," Bela says against Jo's throat. "That was just lovely."

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," Jo says, not bothering to hide her amusement. "How about returning the favor?"

It's the wrong choice of words, of course. Bela laughs sharply. "I was under the impression that that's exactly what you were doing. If we stop now we can call it even."

"You give me an unsubstantiated rumor, without telling me the source it came from, and call it a favor?" Jo says, suddenly irritated by Bela's weight trapping her on the desk. "Hardly seems worth what I just gave you."

"Well, I might be convinced by another orgasm like that," Bela rolls onto her side, knocking Jo's flask and a pile of newspapers to the floor. Jo sits up, stretching out until her spine makes a satisfying crack.

"Not on that damn desk again," Jo says. "Get on the chair."

"Yes, sir," Bela says lightly mocking, but complying. She's always been amused by Jo's penchant for men's clothing.

Jo reaches behind her, fumbling for the top drawer of her desk and the set of handcuffs she keeps there - not so legally borrowed from a cop who tried to take her in a few years ago. She slips the cuffs in her pocket before sliding off the desk and falling, as gracefully as she can manage, to her knees in front of Bela.

She runs her hands up Bela's thighs, stroking softly before pushing them apart. Bela's fingers tangle in Jo's hair, tugging her exactly where she wants her. Jo lets her breath ghost over Bela's still sensitive snatch, feels a tremor run through her and grins, all teeth against Bela's inner thigh, before tonguing between Bela's folds.

"Oh, yes," Bela breathes, arching her back when Jo licks inside her. The scent and taste of her is overwhelming, hot and heady as Jo licks and sucks with abandon, unable to stop slipping a hand down the front of her trousers and fingering herself roughly as she uses just her mouth to make Bela a moaning, trembling wreck.

Jo comes on her own hand, rocking back and forth with her face buried between Bela's legs and Bela follows closely, twisting Jo's hair until it hurts.

Jo doesn't let herself have as long as she'd like to come down, still leaning against Bela's legs she looks up, says, "Well? Tell me who I need to find."

Bela sighs, sounding blissful and annoyed all at once, like she can't believe Jo's still harping on about this. Like it's something stupid and trivial, when this is the closest Jo's come to finding answers.

"I'm not convinced," Bela says. "You seemed to enjoy yourself an awful-" Jo snaps one of the cuffs around Bela's wrist, the other to the arm of the chair. "-what do you think you're doing?"

"You had your chance." Jo says, sitting back and watching Bela's expression turn guarded. "So now you tell me or I make a few phone calls and see who'll give me the highest price for you. I know a few mob bosses aren't too happy with you. Or maybe I'll just let the cops have you."

"Ruthless," says Bela. "I didn't think you had it in you. I'm still not sure you do."

Jo stands up, leaning over Bela so they're face to face, close enough to kiss. "Try me."

Bela just looks at her for a long time, eyes scanning Jo's face and Jo tries to look as dangerous as possible.

"Meg," Bela says finally. "Her name's Meg Masters. Now uncuff me."

"You better not be lying to me," Jo says. She thinks Bela's telling the truth, but it's so hard to tell.

"If I am then we can have another friendly catch-up. I have so enjoyed this one," she smiles. "Well, some aspects more than others."

"I will find you, you know," Jo says, moving back to the desk to retrieve the key.

"I doubt it, but you won't need to." When Jo unlocks the cuffs Bela flexes her wrist as though it's been hours, and gets up and completely unabashedly rearranges her skirt and undergarments.

She slips into her coat and lights a cigarette. Jo stands beside the mess of her desk, not sure what to say now she's got her way, so she just watches as Bela breezes out the door.

"Until next time, darling," Bela calls behind her.

Looking forward to it," Jo says - a little sardonically, a little genuine, but Bela is already gone.

ACTA must die.

sendthewolves — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 06:58:56 GMT

Originally posted by cantarina1 at post

Originally posted by electricdruid at The fiasco continues

ACTA in a Nutshell –

What is ACTA? ACTA is the Anti-Counterfeiting Trade Agreement. A new intellectual property enforcement treaty being negotiated by the United States, the European Community, Switzerland, and Japan, with Australia, the Republic of Korea, New Zealand, Mexico, Jordan, Morocco, Singapore, the United Arab Emirates, and Canada recently announcing that they will join in as well.

Why should you care about ACTA? Initial reports indicate that the treaty will have a very broad scope and will involve new tools targeting “Internet distribution and information technology.”

What is the goal of ACTA? Reportedly the goal is to create new legal standards of intellectual property enforcement, as well as increased international cooperation, an example of which would be an increase in information sharing between signatory countries’ law enforcement agencies.

Essential ACTA Resources -

Read more about ACTA here: ACTA Fact Sheet
Read the authentic version of the ACTA text as of 15 April 2011, as finalized by participating countries here: ACTA Finalized Text
Follow the history of the treaty’s formation here: ACTA history
Read letters from U.S. Senator Ron Wyden wherein he challenges the constitutionality of ACTA: Letter 1 | Letter 2 | Read the Administration’s Response to Wyden’s First Letter here: Response
Watch a short informative video on ACTA: ACTA Video
Watch a lulzy video on ACTA: Lulzy Video

Say NO to ACTA. It is essential to spread awareness and get the word out on ACTA.

Via Tumblr

CWRPF mix: Kiss Kiss [Jared/Jensen/Genevieve] for cherie_morte

sendthewolves — Sat, 06 Aug 2011 12:11:31 GMT

I watched the first two episodes of Friends With Benefits this evening. It was okay, but I find most sitcoms kind of annoying and this wasn't an exception. I might keep watching though, I enjoy Danneel being on my screen. Maybe I'll crossover-ship her character with Genevieve's character from Flash Forward. Or with Kris from Wildfire, because I was a bit in love with her.

I hope you're all enjoying your weekends so far. The most exciting thing I've done is buy a new bra and consume a lot of caffeine. Good times.

Anyway, on to the point of this post. A mix!

Title: Kiss Kiss
Fandom: CWRPF
Pairing: Jared/Jensen/Genevieve
Notes: Non AU(ish): Jared and Jensen have been caught up in a circle of attraction and denial for years, then Genevieve comes along and things get complicated. Made for cherie_morte for thepurpledove. I'm sorry this is inexcusably late, bb, but I hope you enjoy it. ♥

01. Let's Go To Bed - The Cure

But I don't care if you don't // And I don't feel if you don't // And I don't want it if you don't // And I won't say it //If you don't say it first

02. A Way To Us - The Pierces

Slow moving train // Slow moving bus // Slow moving plane // I've got to find a way to us

03. Light the Match - Mirah

I want to start a fire in your heart tonight // Oh, tell me why do I so yearn to cause trouble? // I need you to be mine in the summertime // when the days are long and the nights are slow and sweet // I'll just light the match // And the flames will catch...

04. Mr Brightside - The Killers

Now I'm falling asleep // And she's calling a cab // While he's having a smoke // And she's taking a drag //Now they're going to bed // And my stomach is sick // And it's all in my head // But she's touching his chest // Now, he takes off her dress // Now, letting me go

05. The Lucky Ones Who Love You - Lovers

I don't need you in my kitchen // With your belt loop around my thumb // I just want to be counted among the lucky ones who love you // 'cause I'm afraid I already do // and I fear I need an excuse

06. Apple Candy - Ben Lee

I wanna know what he knows // I wanna feel what he felt // I wanna touch what he touched // I wanna go where he's been // I want you and I want him

07. Book of the Month - Lovage

You and me are the disease // And the germs are spreading // Use me like Listerine // Keeping your breath fresher // Feel the stroke of your paintbrush // My blank sheet of paper // I'm your book of the month // Read the fine print later

08. Kiss Kiss - Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Everywhere kiss me // Everywhere kids meet // No catch, no beat // Well, everywhere kiss, everywhere kiss, kiss me // We're three, we're three, we're three // We're three, we're three in the dark tonight

[Bonus track] Two Guys (For Every Girl) - Peaches

Download@mediafire | download@megaupload

Credit: Textures by vikyvampirs90 and kitamikeita

Inception mix: Fake Empire; girl!Arthur/Eames

sendthewolves — Wed, 22 Jun 2011 00:40:04 GMT

title: Fake Empire
fandom: Inception
pairing: girl!Arthur/Eames
notes: I originally started this for singustosleep's genderswap challenge however-many months ago. I didn't finish on time and it's been sitting around ever since. However, today I am home sick and because I find photoshop soothing I started play around with the art and listening to the playlist and ended up starting practically the whole thing from scratch. BUT IT IS FINISHED NOW YAY. ONE MIX DOWN 1000000 TO GO. :D

In my head this is set post-Inception canon; Arthur and Eames working together, fucking each other and dealing with the destructive aspects of both their job and their relationship.

Sleep Together - Garbage

I got you crawling up a mountain
Hanging round my neck
I got you twisted round my finger
Crawling round my legs

The emptiness
The craziness
Satisfy this hungriness

Darling
How would it feel?

If we sleep together
Will you like me better
If we come together
We'll go down forever
If we sleep together
Will I like you better
If we come together
Prove it now or never

Christiansands - Tricky

My defences
Become fences
Now I'm stumbling

I change my face
And if you think I'm fake up
Wait around till I take off my make-up
Here we go again
I need another one
Her name is -
She looks through me
Says i'm the only one

You and me, what does that mean?
Always, what does that mean?
Forever, what does that mean?
It means we'll manage
I'll master your language
And in the meantime I'll create my own

Flathead - The Fratellis

Hey flathead don't you get mean
She's the second best killer that I ever have seen
They don't come much more sick than you
I could go on if you want me to

Hey flathead don't check me in
Well her's is a tonic and mine is a gin
They don't come much more slick than you
I'd drive your car if you asked me to

Nail In My Coffin - The Kills

I am no better at this than you are
Unfinished business maybe, do love
I can't change myself into you, dear
What you are to me is far too unclear

Could be a nail in my coffin and I don't need another one
Could be a nail in my coffin and lord knows I ain't ready yet
Could be a nail in my coffin and I don't need another one
Could be a line I'm crossing and I am never gonna get back from

I am no better at this than you are
Loneliness never truly leaves me alone
I have made mistakes I can't take back home
I love you just not the way you want

Young Liars - TV on the Radio

My mast ain't so sturdy
My head is at half
I'm searching the clouds for the score

My lady avails herself
Of marked down freedom
Forever cashed out to no more

She put the blam in the blame
Bullets bearing the name
Of each tigress who's left you a tooth
Save the skins for a pelt
And the rest for a belt
That can't open
No nothing
Can't open
No nothing

Well it's cold and it's quiet
And cobblestone cold in here
Fucking for fear of not wanting
To fear again
Lonely is all we are
Lovely so far
But my heart's still a marble
In an empty jelly jar

Fake Empire - The National

Tiptoe through our shiny city
With our diamond slippers on
Do our gay ballet on ice, bluebirds on our shoulders
We're half awake in a fake empire

Turn the light, out say goodnight
No thinking for a little while
Let's not try to figure out everything at once
It's hard to keep track of you falling through the sky

Dreams - TV on the Radio

Oh all your dreams are over now
And all your wings have fallen down
She's just like you
So why keep doing what you do
Why cut a friend
Why cruise that mean lean to an end
You could have heel toed
To another place
You could have peeled slow
To a better face

I know your heart can't grieve
What your eyes won't see
But you were my favorite moment
Of our dead century

The Bones of You - Elbow

Do I have time?
A man of my calibre
Stood in the street like a sleepwalking teenager
No.
And I dealt with this years ago
I took a hammer to every memento
But image on image like beads on a rosary
pulled through my head as the music takes hold
and the sickener hits; I can work till I break
but I love the bones of you
That, I will never escape

For Real - Okkervil River

Some nights I thirst for real blood
For real knives
For real cries
And then the flash of steel from real guns
In real life
Really fills my mind

And I really miss what really did exist
When I held your throat so tight
And I miss the bus as it swerved from us
Almost came crashing to its side

I want to know this time if you're really finally mine
I need to know that you're not lying so I want to see you tried
And I don't want to hear you say, "it shouldn't really be this way"
'Cause I like this way just fine

Kissy Kissy (live acoustic) - The Kills

It's been a long time coming
It's been a long time coming
I'm gonna stab your kissy kissy mouth
It's been a long time coming
I'm gonna stab your kissy kissy heart
It's been a long time coming

Lord I'm not satisfied
I want hellfire
I must do you wrong
I'm not satisfied

.zip@mediafire | .zip@megaupload

Credit:
Textures by butterphil@serenbutter and Sanami276@deviantart
Inception caps from rawr_caps
Girl!Arthur on the backcover is portrayed by Alison Mosshart of The Kills and The Deadweather, in The Deadweather's Treat Me Like Your Mother video. Image on the front from here.

CWRPF fic: Bake Until Golden [Genevieve/Danneel, nc-17, 1300 words]

sendthewolves — Thu, 16 Jun 2011 08:55:34 GMT

Title: Bake Until Golden
Pairing: Genevieve/Danneel
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Written for latentfunction for spnspringfling. Originally posted here. Title taken from every recipe I've ever read.

Genevieve is an idiot. She’s pretty sure that there’s tomato in her hair, knows there’s tomato down her dress and she can’t get the smell of cheese off her hands.

All it took to make her inflict this day of horror on herself was Danneel mentioning off-handedly how much she was craving her mom’s cooking and Gen was offering to whip something up for her. Just a flash of Danneel’s wide grin and bright eyes and suddenly Gen is the kind of moron who invites someone over for a home cooked meal when she knows she isn’t capable of much more than microwaving leftover takeout.

But hey, she thinks she’s done a pretty decent job with her very limited skill and the lasagna has been in the oven long enough for the pleasant smell of cooking food to waft through her apartment. Hopefully it will be an awesome success, and then she and Danneel will have sex on the couch. That will teach her mother for laughing at her when Gen called her, frantically trying to find a recipe she wouldn’t screw up.

There’s a sharp rap at the door; no more time for fretting. Gen wipes her hands on the front of her dress without thinking, swears and scrubs at her front with a dish towel.

“Hey,” Danneel says when Gen opens the door. She shrugs off her coat and tosses it over the back of Gen’s couch. “I’m not too early am I?”

“Nope,” Gen says, pushing her hair back and trying not to look flustered. “Right on time. Y’know, give or take twenty minutes.”

“I guess I must’ve been excited to see you,” Danneel says and Gen’s stomach flip flops. She and Danneel have been seeing each other for a few weeks now, and still all it takes is a few perfect words out of her perfect mouth to turn Gen into a giggling, grinning idiot.

Gen turns towards the kitchen, making a half-hearted attempt to hide just how wide her smile is. “I’m just gonna check on dinner. Make yourself at home.”

Apparently making herself at home means following Gen into the kitchen and whistling when she bends over to look in the oven. The lasagna is actually looking pretty good, cheese starting to turn golden.

“Have I mentioned how hot you are when you’re being all domestic?” Danneel says when Gen closes the door and steps back from the oven. She wraps her arms around Gen’s waist; lips a hot, wet brush against Gen’s throat.

“Wait until you’ve actually tried my cooking before you start touting me as the next Donna Reed,” Gen says, leaning back into Danneel’s body heat. “You’re really setting yourself up for disappointment.”

Danneel licks a line down Gen’s neck and Gen doesn’t even try to stifle her moan.

She can feel the press of Danneel’s teeth when she smiles and says, “Couldn’t disappoint me if you tried.”

“I uh,” Gen’s breath catches as Danneel goes back to sucking at her pulse point. “I worry that you’ve built up unrealistic expectations of me.”

Danneel laughs, a hot puff of breath close to her ear. “Some advice, Gen: when your totally hot, exceptionally awesome girlfriend thinks you’re the bee’s knees? It’s best not to contradict her.”

“Where is this hot, awesome girlfriend of mine, then?” Gen says with mock confusion, twisting her body so she can look over Danneel’s shoulder.

“And funny, too,” Danneel says, fingers tangling in Gen’s hair, pulling her face up and pressing their mouths together.

The kitchen floor is not where Genevieve planned on this happening. But it’s happening and that is fucking awesome.

Gen is flat on her back on the white and blue tiles with Danneel’s hands pushing her dress up to her hips. Danneel teases two fingers along the seam of Gen’s panties and the skimming touch over the soft fabric has Gen arching forward.

“You want more, baby?” Danneel murmurs. Gen catches Danneel’s wrist, presses her hand right against Gen’s pussy. Let’s Danneel feel how much more she wants.

She lifts her hips up, allowing Danneel to pull her panties right down to her ankles. Danneel kisses her, a quick press of lips and sweep of tongue before pulling away until she’s kneeling between Gen’s spread thighs.

Danneel quirks an eyebrow in askance and Gen nods frantically. Danneel grins at her and then she’s sliding down onto her belly, fingers twisting in the fabric of Gen’s bunched up dress.

The first flick of Danneel’s tongue against Gen’s clit has Gen arching up off the floor, fingertips scrabbling against smooth tile as she tries to ground herself.

“Oh fuck,” Gen moans. Danneel sucks at her clit, one of Danneel’s long, slender fingers sliding inside her and Gen has to bite down on her bottom lip and swallow her scream or she’s going to cry out so loud the neighbours will complain.

She feels flushed all over, sweat pricking at her skin and her breath coming in hot bursts as Danneel finds her rhythm; tongue pushing inside her and twisting, fingers rubbing at Gen’s clit. Gen’s shaking as Danneel works her body, all her muscles clenching tight against the waves of pleasure running through her.

One of Gen’s hands is in Danneel’s hair, soft and silky against her over-heated skin, not really directing her so much as holding on like she’s afraid Danneel’s going to pull away and leave Gen a desperate, sweaty mess on the floor. With her other hand she cups her own breast, thumb teasing her nipple until it almost hurts, then playing with the other one.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking beautiful,” Danneel says, and Gen feels the words ghost against her flesh more than she hears them.

Gen makes a low, gasping noise in response and Danneel licks straight up; a hot, wet drag of tongue. She sucks Gen’s clit into her mouth with a slight scrape of teeth that sends Gen over the edge.

The first thing Gen notices when her body stops thrumming and she can breathe properly again is that Danneel is no longer pressed up warm and soft against her.

The second is that the room smells like burnt ass and someone is swearing.

“Fucking shit fuck.” Danneel is standing at the oven, peering inside and holding a dishcloth in one hand.

“Well,” Gen says, picking herself up off the floor. Her panties are still tangled around one ankle and she chooses to kick them off rather than pull them up. “That smells disgusting.”

Danneel turns around, looking sheepish. “I was kind of hoping I could fix it before you uh, joined me back in the real world.”

Gen takes a few steps closer, leaning forward to inspect the blackened hunk that her lasagna has become. “I really don’t think that’s fixable.”

“I guess not,” Danneel says. “It might still taste okay if we scrape off the burnt bits.”

“That’s really sweet, and mighty optimistic of you,” Gen says. “But I’d like to propose another offer.”

“Mm, what’s that?” Danneel moves away from the oven and presses right up against Gen’s side.

“We throw that far, far away, and move into a room that doesn’t smell like charcoal. My bedroom seems like a good option.”

“I think I can work with that.” Danneel agrees. “I would also propose sex. Lots and lots of sex. And then pizza, followed by more sex.”

“Well, you did ruin the meal I spent hours slaving over with your awesome orgasm-giving skills.” Gen says, resting her hands on Danneel’s waist, sliding them up under her shirt. “I think you owe me at least four more.”

“Deal,” Danneel says, and kisses her.

I was afraid I'd eat your brains

sendthewolves — Thu, 13 Jan 2011 03:13:21 GMT

So, I just signed up for spn_j2_bigbang. In case you haven't noticed, one of my favourite fandom hobbies is signing up for things and then failing miserably. As fun as that is, I really want to succeed this year.

So! Who wants to hold my hand? Any tips on not failing? Anyone willing to kick me in the ass if I show no signs of trying? I really want to motivate myself to write more this year, and this feels like a good place to start.

In two weeks I will have internets again, and I think I'm going to do a weekly big bang post with my word count and flailing and stuff. Just something to hold me accountable. I'm going to filter it so I'm not spamming people who don't care, so here's a poll.

Just so you know what you're getting yourself into, I'm going to be writing Jo/Kat fic, possibly in The End verse. I have two ideas for the same story, so I'm not quite sure how they're going to merge yet, but it's definitely going to be season five related.

View Poll: #1667404

drive-by posting

sendthewolves — Fri, 17 Dec 2010 05:42:16 GMT

I'm offering a fanmix here

Wish me luck this week, guys! Both jobs are going to be crazy busy, and this is my only day off before Christmas day. Someone pray for my sanity.

Happy holidays, flist! ♥ ♥ ♥

boring stuff! And a fanmix!

sendthewolves — Thu, 18 Nov 2010 07:05:42 GMT

- I am hanging out with the family, making sneaky plans for various up coming birthdays. Good times, yo.
- Also stealing internets and snagging shows off my sister. Yay for getting caught up. \o/
- Yesterday, we went to look at a flat and on one of the walls was written: Marius was here. I loled.
- Trying to figure out my work schedule for the summer. Hopefully I will get decent hours at both jobs.
- Tonight, I might give the flat a tidy. Otherwise kiwiana's mum will judge us.
- WHY AM I HAVING A CONVERSATION ABOUT COLOUR WHEELS? You guys, I have no taste for these things, why must people insist in dragging me into it. I would just paint it all bright, random colours that clash horribly.

Annnnnnd here is a fanmix that I've been picking at for weeks.

title: Get the Guns Out
fandom: Inception
pairing: Arthur/Eames
summary: BAMFs in ~~love~~ lust, with a generous dash of antagonism. Includes front and back covers, eleven individually uploaded tracks and .zip of them all together.

Jawbreaker - The Dead Weather

You're a real jawbreaker / A real crook, obscene
I'd call you a heartbreaker / But I reserve that for nicer things

Life As A Ghost - Editors

Here's a toast, a life as a ghost is better than most, / If we have our love in the gutter.
Dance, fucker, dance, you were born to entertain / Sing, choir boy, sing, wash your sins down the drain

Tear You Apart - She Wants Revenge

I want to hold you close / Soft breath, beating heart
As I whisper in your ear / I want to fucking tear you apart

Hammering In My Head - Garbage

I knew you were mine for the taking / When I walked in the room
I knew you were mine for the taking / Your eyes light up when I walk in the room
A hammering in my head don't stop / From the bullet train from Tokyo to Los Angeles

Start A War - The National

Do you really think you can just put it in a safe behind a painting, lock it up and leave?
Whatever went away I’ll get it over now. I’ll get money, I’ll get funny again
Walk away now and you’re gonna start a war

Combat Baby - Metric

I want to be wrong but no one here wants to fight me like you do
combat baby come back baby / fight off the lethargy / don’t go quietly
combat baby / said you were never gonna give up easy

Love Is A Deserter - The Kills

Crossed wires, sparking a little / Start a house fire with us in the middle
Get the guns out, get the guns out / Your love is a deserter

Disorder - Joy Division

It's getting faster, moving faster now, it's getting out of hand. / On the tenth floor, down the backstairs, into no man's land.
Lights are flashing, cars are crashing, getting frequent now. / I've got the spirit, lose the feeling, let it out somehow.

Evil And A Heathen - Franz Ferdinand

I like how you pretend that the end will be the end / So fill your thirst
Drink a curse to the death of death instead
I'm evil and a heathen / I'm evil and a heathen / I'm a heathen and evil like you
There's not a lot / Not a lot we couldn't do

Come As You Are - Nirvana

Come as you are, as you were, as I want you to be.
As a friend, as a friend, as an old Enemy.

Passenger - Deftones feat. Maynard James Keenan

Roll these misty windows down to catch my breath
And then go and go and go just drive me home and back again
Here I lay just like always / Don't let me go / Take me to the edge

.zip@mediafire | .zip@megaupload

spnthreesome fic for scorpiod1: Sam/Dean/Henriksen, nc-17, 5500-ish words.

sendthewolves — Mon, 15 Nov 2010 06:33:21 GMT

One day, I will have internet at home again. It will be a glorious day and I will catch up with my flist. FINGERS CROSSED THAT THIS DAY WILL BE SOON. ♥

Title: the sand in the hourglass is running low
Pairing: Sam/Dean/Henriksen
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Notes: Possession, implied violence and death. AU from Jus in Bello, playing loosely with the timeline between that and Time is on My Side (I think). Written for the ever lovely scorpiod1 for spnthreesome. I hope you like it, bb! Title nicked from White Lies.
Summary: Victor Henriksen walks out of the Monument, Colorado Sheriff’s Department with a demon inside him.

Victor Henriksen walks out of the Monument, Colorado Sheriff’s Department with a demon inside him. It’s a low voice in his head, in his blood; pulling his strings and whispering about paying a visit to the Winchesters.

He’d though it was bad before, when one of these bastards used his hands to pull the trigger on an innocent man, trying desperately to drop the gun but his own muscles wouldn’t listen to him. This is worse. Now he knows what’s happening to him, what this thing curled up in his bones is capable of.

When the little girl’s white eyes had turned on him and she smiled wide, showing off a row of pearly-white baby teeth, Victor’s stomach dropped. His gun was in its holster, useless against these things but instinct said go for it. She had laughed then, when his fingers twitched uselessly by his sides and his back slammed against the wall. She’d laughed and said, “Watch this.”

“Just like old times,” the thing in his head says, like they’re sharing a joke. It’s true, hunting down Dean Winchester in a twisted parody of all the months before. Victor refuses to answer but he knows it catches the thought; it chuckles with his voice, low and mean.

He is standing in a gas station holding up his badge, and the girl behind the counter snaps her gum and answers all the demon’s questions.

“Yeah,” she says, looking back down at the picture of Dean Winchester in her hands. “Must have been two days ago. Him and some tall guy.”

“Did they happen to drop anything about where they might be headed?” the demon asks, pocketing the badge.

She shakes her head, “Not a thing, just paid for their gas and split. Bought a couple bags of chips too, guy seemed nice enough.”

“Sociopaths often do,” it says, and Victor knows that it’s thinking about killing this girl. It wants to grab her by the throat and squeeze, he can feel it in his hands, the thrum of violent need. “Did you see which way they went?”

Run, he thinks at her and feels his mouth quirk in amusement. Run run run.

“Took off west,” she says, absently pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Thank you for your time ma’am.” It enjoys this, playing the part and letting Victor feel everything it feels, everything it wants. It’s a guessing game they play, as Victor wonders if each person they meet will survive the encounter.

It turns, heads for the door, and Victor’s careful not to let relief flow through him just in case that changes its mind.

“These guys,” the girl calls out after him and Victor wants to scream at her. “They dangerous?”

The demon stops in the doorway, and a smile splits his face in two, a shark’s smile.

“Oh, sweetheart,” it says, turning around and taking a step back towards her. “You have no idea.”

Victor doesn’t know how long it takes to track down Dean and Sam. He’s not awake the whole time, only when the demon wants him to feel the slick slide of blood on his hands. When it wants to play with him.

He’s awake now, to feel the dull thump of his fist on a motel door. The cool metal off a blade is tucked against his back, his holster strapped across his shoulder.

There’s movement in the room, hushed voices and the shuffle of movement, before the door cracks open and Dean is staring at him with wide eyes.

“Well, you’re unexpected,” he says. Dean must have a gun on him, it’s the least Victor has come to expect. All he can do is hope that Dean shoots first, that it’ll be over.

“Dean! Gotta tell you, buddy,” it says, happily, hand curling around the hilt of the knife. “I’ve been looking for you for a long time.”

“Should’ve called,” Dean says, and then he’s bringing a flask out of nowhere. Water hits Victor in the face, and the demon scream, pulling the blade and lunging forward, tackling Dean to the ground.

“Son of a-" Dean shouts, as the knife sinks into his shoulder. “Sam!”

Then Sam Winchester is grabbing him from behind and hauling him up and into the room. It throws Sam off, makes to go after him and then freezes. He’s standing in the middle of one of those spray painted pentagrams they used back in Colorado – a devil’s trap, they called it.

“Nice try,” says the demon, reaching for the holster.

“Looking for this?” Dean says, standing now and holding up Victor’s gun. “Sorry, pal. Time to go back downstairs.”

Sam moves to stand beside Dean, eyes darting over his bloody shoulder before flicking back to Victor, and he begins reciting the exorcism. He feels the demon forcibly contract inside him, like it’s being pulled out of every individual bone, vein and nerve and into one lump in his throat.

“Go ahead, asshole,” it says, choking on a laugh, gaze narrowing in on Dean. “We both know your expiration date’s coming. I’ll save you a spot with a view.”

“You do that.” Dean says, voice hard-edged, and then Victor’s head is being thrown back, smoke is tearing its way out of his throat and everything goes black.

The first thing he thinks when he opens his eyes is, I’m alive. He didn’t expect that.

Groaning, he starts to sit up. There’s a hand on his shoulder immediately and someone says, “Henriksen?”

“Yeah,” he says. His voice is rough and talking hurts, but this is the first word he has said in god knows how long and it feels amazing. “Yeah, it’s – I’m me.”

Dean is crouching beside him, helping him sit, and he nods. His hands are moving over Victor and he notes that Dean’s shoulder is bandaged. “How you feeling, besides the obvious? Anything feel fatally injured?” Victor shakes his head and breaths in a few times before answering.

“No, I think I’m okay,” he rubs a hand over his face, flexes his arms and legs just to prove to himself that he can. Dean offers him a hand up, which he isn’t too proud to take, and he sits down on one of the beds. “Jesus, it’s been …how long has it been?”

Sam and Dean share a look and he steels himself. Sam sighs and says, “It’s been three weeks. We thought you were dead. It was on the news; they called it a gas leak.”

“Lilith,” Victor says slowly, and it all flashes behind his eyes, the screams and the blood. He swallows thickly. “The little girl. She killed them, all of them. Except me.”

Victor closes his eyes then, head bowed. He can feel their sympathetic stares but he can’t bring himself to look at them. It’s easier to concentrate on breathing for a moment, wiggling his toes in his boots because his body is his again, and he lets everything sink in.

Legally, he is dead. One of many killed in a tragic accident. It’s a strange feeling, knowing that his family, his co-workers, his exes have been mourning him. There is the option of going back, trying to explain away why he disappeared after the supposed accident. But there’s a trail of bodies behind him that any digging could turn up.

Victor thinks about his mother in her retirement home. His life insurance will cover that, and as guilty as the thought makes him, better she have a dead son than a suspected serial killer. God, he should have visited her more. He always meant to, but never seemed to have the time. Too busy obsessing over Dean Winchester: serial killer. Look where that stuck him.

Sam and Dean live around him for the first couple of days, and he’s grateful for it. He sleeps a lot, lets his body recover, and even dreams of all the faces he’s seen go slack and dead-eyed don’t wake him at first.

Really, it’s probably a good sign when he wakes in a cold sweat, echo of little girl giggling in his ears and the wet warmth of blood on his hands. At least he’s getting over the all-encompassing exhaustion. He stumbles into the bathroom, turns on the tap and washes his hands until they feel clean again. When he returns to the other room he notices that Sam and Dean are both asleep in the other bed. He hadn’t realized they’d been sharing, but that seems stupid now, like he’d been under the bizarre impression that they never slept at all.

He wakes up ravenous. Just the thought of food had turned his stomach before, but now it growls embarrassingly loud.

“Diner, then?” Dean says, stepping out of the bathroom, toweling at his wet hair.

“Sounds good to me,” Sam says, closing his laptop with a snap.

Victor drinks two cups of bitter black coffee and practically inhales his plate of eggs and sausage before he looks up at them. They look a little ridiculous, squeezed into one side of the small booth; wide shoulders pressed together and Victor smiles into his third cup of coffee. Dean’s lips tug up at the corners. He could be sharing Victor’s amusement, or maybe it’s just his response to seeing Victor smile at all.

“So,” he says finally, after days of thinking it. “Lilith. You two are going after her, right?”

Sam’s jaw tightens and his voice is low and dangerous when he says, “We’re going to kill her.”

“I want in,” Victor replies, watching them for reaction. They look to each other first, seem to have a whole conversation with a couple of raised eyebrows.

“You sure?” Dean asks, turning back to face Victor. “We could help you get sorted out with a new identity. It doesn’t have to be this.”

“Yeah,” Victor says, thinking of white eyes, black eyes, dead eyes. He leans forward, looks at Dean and then Sam. “It does.”

“All right,” Sam says, leaning back and nodding, eyes still dark with that deadly focus.

Dean drums his fingertips against the table and says, “You’ve got a lot to learn.”

Turns out salt doesn’t work on everything. Victor’s unloading round after round into the black dog’s snarling face, but the damn thing just keeps coming, claws swiping out and catching his leg. He goes down hard, loses the useless shotgun and pulls his Glock, the bullets slow it down at least, knocking it back, but it doesn’t go down, growls and leaps towards him.

Somewhere, someone shouts, “Henriksen!” and a body comes barreling out of nowhere, slamming into the fucker and knocking it to the side. There’s the thump of bodies hitting the ground, a yell and then an eerie, inhuman yowl. He gets himself on his feet in time to see Dean pushing the black dog’s stiff corpse of himself, knife buried deep in its heart.

Boots pound against dirt and Sam is at his side. He claps Victor on the shoulder on his way past, heading straight for Dean, pulling him up and patting him down for injuries. Dean is covered in thick, animal blood, he tolerates Sam’s ministrations for a minute and then pushes him away, grinning.

“”M fine, Sam. Got that sucker good,” he plants his boot on its chest and pulls the knife free. “When in doubt: silver.”

“You telling me that was a lucky guess?” Victor says, leaning back against a tree.

Sam snorts, “You’d be surprised how many of them are.”

“And here I thought you were supposed to be the experts,” Victor says, grinning, and Dean laughs.

“Saved your ass didn’t I, wise guy?” Dean says, picking up Victor’s discarded shotgun and tossing it to him.

“Yeah,” he catches it, one handed, slinging it over his shoulder. “I suppose you did.”

Victor is no stranger to living out of a suitcase, not with his job. But he always had his apartment, a place to come back to. Standing in the middle of his latest motel room, empty and anonymous, he wonders what’s happened to his stuff. His wedding rings, three together in the lock box in his closet. The baseball glove his father gave him after his little league team won their first game. The things he’s carried with him from home to home that he always took for granted, gone.

The walls in this place are paper thin; sitting on the end of his bed Victor can hear Dean and Sam next door, the dull thud of footsteps, the creak of the bedsprings.

They’re fighting, in sharp, hushed voices that he still can’t help but hear. Something about the Colt, and Bela; the gun they need to kill Lilith, and the woman who stole it. Sam hisses something about weeks and then they go quiet. A door closes, and then someone is knocking on Victor’s. He feels caught out for a moment, even though he wasn’t eaves dropping on purpose.

“You look like a man who could use a drink,” Dean says when Victor opens the door. “I know I could.”

He can’t argue with that.

Dean tosses back three shots of whiskey, barely wincing at the burn. Victor sips a double of scotch and watches him. There’s something they aren’t telling him, something dark lurking beneath the surface of every smile and joke and look. He hasn’t asked so far, doesn’t seem like his place, but it’s been niggling at him.

“Gimme another one,” Dean says to the bartender, tapping the rim of his glass. She complies and he swallows it down.

“Really needed that drink, huh?” Victor says, watching the ripple of Dean’s throat.

“Yeah,” Dean’s voice is roughened from the whiskey, and when he turns to Victor he looks a little drunk, but mostly he just looks sad.

“All right, what’s the deal, Dean?” Victor can’t keep it in anymore, lets all the FBI authority flow into his voice. He was always good at getting answers. “You and Sam, there’s something you’re holding back and it’s scaring the crap out of both of you. “

“We really that obvious?” is Dean’s only reply, raising an eyebrow.

“Damn straight you are. If we’re in this together then I need to know what’s going on.” Victor locks eyes with him, and Dean doesn’t look away.

“Yeah, I guess you do,” he says after a moment’s consideration. “Right. You hear what the demon said before we pulled it out of you?”

“About you having an expiration date?” Victor remembers slowly.

“That’s it,” Dean looks down at his empty glass, traces a finger through the small pool of spilled whiskey on the bar. “Long story short: Sam died,” he chokes a little on that, “and I sold my soul to bring him back. Got one year and it’s nearly up. “

Victor stares at him and Dean offers a loose shrug. Sold his soul. One year. He draws in a breath, lets it out, and still has no idea what to say. Lifting the glass to his lips, Victor drains the contents and signals for another.

Dean is still staring at him, Victor doesn’t know what he’s watching for but he has to say something. All that comes out is, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Dean says. “Don’t think about it, just focus on getting Lilith. She’s the one who holds the contract.” His voice goes strange on the word “contract” and he shakes his head slightly before continuing. “It’s Sammy I’m worried about. “

Christ, Victor can’t imagine Sam without Dean. Thinking of either of them without the other, it just seems wrong. Fucked up, but true.

Slapping a few bills down on the bar, Dean stands. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

He trails Dean into the parking lot. The streetlights cast a washed out glow around them and everything is silent. The motel is just across the street and Victor heads straight towards it, weaving around the few cars parked haphazardly around the lot. Dean stops suddenly and Victor walks straight into him. Before he can move around him, Dean catches his arm and tugs him close, so they’re face to face. Dean’s expression is unreadable and Victor’s eyebrows furrow, his mouth going dry.

“Dean,” he says, and Dean shakes his head, lips his lips and then he’s closing the small distance between them and pressing their mouths together. Kissing him. Dean Winchester is kissing him, and Victor is just standing there and letting him. Dean’s tongue flicks over his bottom lip and Victor parts them without thinking, lets Dean lick into his mouth and then his brain kicks back in and he pushes Dean away.

Dean’s breathing loudly, and so is Victor. They stand silently, just looking at each other for a moment before Victor finds his voice and says, “You’re drunk.”

“A little,” Dean agrees, still far too close; his body heat seeping into Victor’s skin. “Doesn’t change anything.”
Victor sighs, scrubs a hand over his face and takes a few steps away. “Go to bed, Dean. Talk to your brother. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He feels Dean’s gaze on his back for a moment as he walks away, then Dean lets out an audible sigh and his footsteps follow Victor back to the motel.

That night he dreams of Nancy, standing in front of him with her dark hair and her Bambi eyes. She’s saying, “It’s your fault, you know. You brought them there. You couldn’t protect us,” she laughs, “You had no idea what you were messing with. Now you do, and you’re still messing with it.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, reaching out a hand to touch her and it comes away bloody. Her expression is almost sympathetic.

“I know, but sorry won’t bring me back.” Her eyes roll back then, turning all milky-white and her voice is too young suddenly. “Tell Dean I’m waiting for him.”

He jerks awake with his heart pounding in his throat. His hands fumble the light on; like that’ll drive all the memories away.

“I’m sorry,” he finds himself saying, into the room at large, voice all cracked and rough, but there is no one there to hear it.

He fills a plastic cup with water from the bathroom tap and carries it back to bed, sitting with his feet on the floor and sipping at it while his head clears.

There’s a rustle of movement through the wall, and he hopes it’s not because they heard him. More rustling, sheets maybe, and low voices. He can’t make out the words and doesn’t try, just sips his water and tries to shut them out. Thinking about Dean isn’t a good idea right now, thinking about Dean, and all the long looks he’s shared with him, and the one’s when Dean’s back was turned that Victor never gave much thought to. The kiss, that Victor stopped because he thought he should, not because he wanted to.

Something thumps against the wall, and one of them – Dean, he thinks, hisses, “Shut up.”

“Why?” Sam’s saying, not quiet at all. “Afraid he’ll hear us, Dean. Worried about what he’ll think.”
“Aren’t you?” Dean replies and then their voices are muffled and Victor is staring at the wall with no clue what he should be thinking.

This isn’t right, it doesn’t fit. They can’t be. There’s another thud, a headboard? No. It fits with who he thought they were; sick, twisted cold-blooded killers. But he was wrong. He must be wrong. And Dean, he kissed him, just hours earlier. None of it makes sense.

Victor finds himself watching them more closely after that night. He and Dean don’t talk about the kiss. Sam sometimes shoots these strange looks between the two of them, but he doesn’t say anything. It becomes hard not to focus in on the small, casual touches that pass between them, the way they let their knees rest together under all the different diner tables.

They talk about Lilith, about Bela, who seems to have dropped off the face of the earth. Dean’s pretty blunt and easy about everything, but Sam, he gets tense, angry. Victor goes to the bathroom to give them a moment and when he opens the door Dean’s hand is on Sam’s wrist, thumb rubbing circles over Sam’s bare skin. He coughs and Dean’s hand snaps back.

The dreams get worse, and Victor gets sick of lying alone, staring at the wall and over-analyzing any sound from the next room. They’re currently holed up in a no star motel off the highway. It’s late and they’ve been driving all day, but he’s not ready to attempt sleep. Instead, he walks the half-mile along the road to the truck stop they passed. The day was hot and some of that warmth lingers in the air, but the breeze has a chill to it that pricks at his skin. He’s really got to get his own car, he always hated riding shotgun and being relegated to the back seat is even worse. Yeah, he’ll work on that.

He’s surprise when the first thing he sees when the door swings closed behind him, and he gives the place a cursory once over, is Sam, hunched over at a table by the window. Victor doesn’t want to intrude, considers heading for a table on the other side of the room, but Sam looks up and nods him over and that’s that.

The waitress brings him coffee and refills Sam’s cup when he asks. She gives him a look like she’s afraid he’s only one cup away from ODing on caffeine and Sam ignores it. They sit in mostly comfortable silence, both sipping their coffee and watching headlights pass by out the window.

“I was possessed once,” Sam says, suddenly. Victor puts his cup down, but doesn’t say anything. Just lets Sam continue. “That’s what you dream about, right? That’s why you’re here.”

“Among other things,” Victor says carefully and Sam nods. It occurs to him that he and Sam have never spent time together like this, without Dean. Yeah, the two of them are kind of a package deal, but it still seems strange. The three of them have been living in each other’s pockets for a couple months now, but it feels much longer. “Did it? The demon - “

“Yeah,” Sam swallows thickly, muscle in his jaw twitching. “It killed someone. And I wasn’t awake for it, but his blood was all over my shirt, under my nails. But it wasn’t me. And it wasn’t you.”

“I keep telling myself that.” Doesn’t change anything. They’re still dead.

“Don’t stop,” Sam’s leaning forward, catching his eye and holding the contact. “I know you think it doesn’t help, but it’s important. It wasn’t you, and you survived. Now you have the chance to help other people. That’s important too.”

They fall quiet again, and Victor thinks about Dean, about the deal he made for his brother’s life, and tries to imagine loving someone that much. Having someone else love you that much. It’s surprising how much the idea scares him.

“I just need to know something,” Sam catches him off guard, like he’s been listening to Victor’s thoughts. “This thing, with Dean. I’m going to do whatever it takes to save him. Anything. And you don’t have to be part of that, it’d probably be better if you weren’t. But, I need to know, are you with us in this?”

He studies Sam for a moment, the dangerous glint in his eye, the tension in his shoulders and the way he’s studying Victor right back. He searches Sam’s face, but finds he doesn’t have to search himself for an answer; it’s right on the tip of his tongue. “Yeah, I’m with you.”

Back at the motel, they linger in the parking lot, neither heading straight for their door. Victor thinks about kissing Dean in the parking lot of a bar three states away. It’s still unspoken between them, could be left to fade away and Victor hasn’t let it go. Doesn’t want to.

“Hey,” Sam says, hand on Victor’s shoulder. The light is out in Sam and Dean’s room, but the glow of the television is visible through the thin curtains. “You wanna come in?”

He nods and follows Sam inside. It’s not just that he doesn’t want to sleep, or that he doesn’t want to be alone. He wants to be with them.

Dean is sitting on the bed closest to the door. He glances over when Sam enters the room and then double takes when Victor follows.

“Hey,” Dean says, a little cautiously, flicking off the TV. “What’s up?”

Hovering beside him, Sam shrugs and Victor doesn’t know what to say, mentally following back all the signs that have lead him here. He knows where this is going; he’d have been shit at his job if he wasn’t observant enough to work it out. Sure, he could still walk away, but he said it himself. He’s with them in this.

Sam kisses him then and Victor only hesitates for a second before kissing him back, shutting out the voice saying just how fucked up this is. How this could fuck everything up. When he and Sam break apart, Victor looks straight at Dean. He’s watching them, mouth hanging open, shock in his eyes; there’s something else there too.

It all snaps into place then, and Victor strides across the room to press his mouth to Dean’s, cupping the back of his neck with one hand and letting the other rest on Dean’s shoulder. Dean kisses back eagerly, lips parting for Victor’s tongue; fingers twisting into the front of Victor’s shirt and holding him close. Warmth presses up against Victor’s back and Sam’s mouth is wet against his neck.

Dean pulls back, looking at his brother over Victor’s shoulder. Sam leans forward, body plastered against Victor, and then they are kissing and Victor is sandwiched between them, unable to look away from where their lips meet.

They fall back onto the bed, bodies blurring together and Victor loses track of who he’s kissing, who he’s touching and who is touching him. It’s all rough hands, the scrape of stubble and someone breathing hot and wet against his skin.

“Oh Jesus,” Dean pants in Victor’s ear, grinding himself against Victor’s thigh. He rolls over, so their crotches rub together and Dean feels just as achingly hard as Victor is. Sam’s hand is on Victor’s hip, stretched over Dean and there are too many layers of clothing between them all. He tugs at Dean’s shirt and they both get the message, the three of them scrambling to free each other from jeans and shirts, Sam and Victor both kicking off their shoes, and then it’s all skin on skin on skin.

A hand wraps around his dick, sweat-slick and rough, working him without finesse. Victor moans against Sam’s neck, Sam’s hair tickling his forehead. Dean stretches up kisses Sam and then him. Victor tries to separate their tastes, but then Dean is moving down and his mouth joins Sam’s hand on Victor’s cock and he doesn’t think about anything but the sensation. His fingers tangle in Dean’s hair, guiding the bob of his head, fucking up into the hot, wetness of his mouth.

Sam shifts, crawling behind Dean and resting one hand on his hip, the other fisting his dick, stroking, slow and even until Dean is writhing between them. He keeps sucking Victor off, even as Sam works him closer and closer to climax, and Victor isn’t sure how much longer either of them are going to last.

His fingers twist in Dean’s hair when he comes. Pulling tight, and holding him there, and Dean complies happily. He looks up at him, along the line of Victor’s body and swallows, and fuck, he’s spent, dick beginning to soften in Dean’s mouth, but that flares up a fresh wave of arousal.

Content to lie back for the moment, he watches Sam finish Dean off. The hand is gone from Dean’s hip, and he notices the way Dean’s grinding back – fucking himself on Sam’s fingers and thrusting into Sam’s fist. Dean comes with a final twist of Sam’s wrist, head bent forward, resting on Victor’s leg, breathing these hot little moans into Victor’s skin.

Sam stretches himself out along Dean’s back while he recovers, pressing a kiss to the back of Dean’s neck, and his hand trails up Dean’s side, along Victor’s thigh, before rolling to the side and sprawling out on his back. Victor reaches for him, skims his fingertips up his inner thigh, over his balls before closing his hand around Sam’s dick. He hasn’t been with a guy in years, hell, he hasn’t been with anyone since he and Michelle split, but he knows what feels good and he’s never had any complaints.

He jerks Sam off, quick and hard, while Dean mouths at his hipbone, teeth nipping at the thin skin stretched over bone. Sam doesn’t last long, already slick with pre-come before Victor even touched him. His body goes tense, and he makes a strangled sound in his throat, before all his limbs go loose and relaxed, and they all sort of slump against the mattress, breath heavy and loud in the silent room.

Victor’s eyes fall closed, and he lets sleep wash over him. The dreams come, as they do every night, but they don’t wake him.

It’s easier than it should be, waking up with a warm body on either side of him. Keeping his eyes closed, he waits for that to change.

Dean shifts beside him, mutters, “Ugh, how come I got stuck sleeping in the wet patch?”

Sam snorts, “Not the only one, dude. Stop whining, some of us are trying to sleep.”

Victor stays silent, and they settle back around him. He waits, but regret doesn’t come.

It doesn’t sink in just how serious Sam was when he said anything until Victor realizes why he’s so determined to stay on the Doc Benton case when Dean has a lead on Bela and the gun. Deadly serious, frighteningly so.

They fight again, Sam and Dean, and Victor stands to the side and lets them argue it out, but neither gives an inch.

Dean goes to leave, turning to Victor and says, “You comin’?”

He suddenly feels trapped in the middle; they’re both looking at him like whoever he chooses to stick with wins. “No,” he says firmly and Dean raises an eyebrow. “This thing is killing people. You find the girl; we’ll take care of things here and no one does anything stupid.”

They leave town straight after putting Benton in the ground. Sam is still stiff and strange, and Dean seems to be lost in thought about whatever happened with him and Bela. Finally, he pulls out his phone, Victor listens as he talks, clicks with what’s happening. He feels something twist inside him when he realizes that they’re leaving her there to die, no matter what kind of person she seems to be; this woman he’s never meet, she can’t deserve this. No one can.

After hanging up on Bela, Dean says, “She gave me a name,” slow, like he’s not sure whether to believe it. Victor leans forward, resting his arms on the seat in front of him. “Crowley. He’s got the Colt.”

Sam’s breath is coming hot and rough, Victor can feel it on his cheek. “A demon?”

“Yeah, must be hot shit too, if Lilith trusts him with this,” Dean replies, looking at Sam with wide, worried eyes, like he’s afraid of getting his brother’s hopes up. Victor lets his fingers trail over the back of Dean’s neck, stroking the soft, sweat-damp hair there and Dean lets him.

The way Sam is nodding to himself makes Victor think Dean’s fears are right, but at the same time he can’t fool himself that it’s not hope he’s feeling unfold, warm in his chest.

“So we find him,” Sam says. “We get the Colt back, and we fucking kill Lilith.”

“We’ve got a plan then,” Victor says and Sam’s mouth twitches into a brief smile.

Dean is quiet for a moment, watching the road while they watch him.

“This is it then,” Dean says finally, glancing over the Sam before meeting Victor’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “We’re all in?”

The question doesn’t need an answer, not really. Even before this thing between them, before he knew about Dean’s deal, Victor was determined to help them take out Lilith. Avenge Nancy, Reidy and the others. Everyone the demon made him kill; he wants justice for them. And he doesn’t want to lose Dean.

“All in,” Victor answers anyway, feeling a wave of excitement, the kind he used to feel when he put some psycho bastard behind bars.

In the mirror, he sees Dean’s grin and Sam’s expression of fierce determination. The road rushes by underneath them and Dean guns the engine.

sendthewolves — Sun, 19 Sep 2010 11:37:47 GMT

You know what should exist? Fic where Jo Harvelle and Buffy Summers are college room mates. Jo is the freak with the knife collection, Buffy is the freak with the weapons trunk. They are both blonde and tiny and kick ass. There is no way for the combination to be anything but awesome. /posting random thoughts

Fanmixing is soothing :D

sendthewolves — Sat, 18 Sep 2010 09:55:04 GMT

I had the best sleep ever last night! It felt so goooood. Anyway, I am being all responsible and not ditching work tomorrow to spend the weekend sitting in hot pools. Instead I am doing laundry, making fanmixes and working on my spnthreesome fic. Starting with the porn and then working out the plot is probably not the best way to go about things, but words are happening and I'm not going to complain. \o/

Title: Set Yourself On Fire
Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Notes: Inception fandom seems to be my happy place at the moment and I have been reading waaaaay too much fic. Anyways, the mix covers them flirting, snarking and falling into bed together for one night of epic sex with a morning after that doesn't go so well. Cue the tactical retreat and a year or so wandering the globe, both working separate jobs and ~~pining~~ thinking of each other occasionally, before finally coming back together.
Includes front and back covers, twelve individually uploaded tracks and zip.

Promise - Violent Femmes

Y'know that I want your loving
but my logic tells me that it ain’t never gonna happen
and then my defenses say I didn't want it anyway
but you know sometimes I'm a liar
could you ever want me to love you
could you ever want me to care
disregard my nervousness
please ignore my vacant stares
cause just what I've been through
is nothing like where I'm going to
give me some sign to pursue
a promise

I'm Making Eyes At You - Black Kids

So you want my affection?
We both know you'll only throw it away,
But if you must have a go, fine, ok!
If you must have a go, then go away!

I'm making eyes at you,
I've been making these eyes now, making these eyes since '82.
I've making them green and gray and brown and delta blue.
I'm reciting the mantra, but I can't tell you,
because you're missing me, that’s all you'll ever be.

Please don't, please don't speak;
You'll kill the mystique.
Oh baby, let's not, lets not dance;
We'll ruin chances.
Oh, in between the drinks,
I can't help but to think that
even as we speak;
we kill the mystique.

Just Say Yes - The Cure

Yeah, this is it
Don't be cautious
Don't think twice
This is it
Don't play it safe
Don't put it on ice
Yeah, this is it
Don't chew it over
No don't kick it around
This is it
Don't wait and see
Don't try to work it out

So don't tell me
It could all go wrong
No don't tell me
It could all be a mess
Oh don't tell me
It could all be a waste of time
Just say oui! Si! Sim! Da! Ja! Yow! Igen! Kylla!
Just say yes!

Kiss Kiss - Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Green hours
Blue rope
Well, hot wax, four hearts are cold
We're three, we're three in the dark tonight
And baby, my snake is a shark tonight

He's got youth on his side
He's got small purple eyes
Now he's as straight as a bone
When there's nobody home

Everywhere kiss me
Everywhere kids speak
No catch, no beat
Everywhere kiss me, everywhere kiss me

Now move I'm gonna come dry
I dropped my musings out of sight
I drank until the waters dried
It's all cute 'til someone dies

I Hate the Way You Love - The Kills

May I look into your glass
Because I need some reflection
Yeah, I know it won't last
And look it's over already over
And I did not have the heart
No I did not have the heart
I was losing a button
Right from the start
I was losing a button
I was coming apart
I was coming apart

You love, you love, you love
I hate the way you love
I hate the way you love

I Started Something I Couldn't Finish - The Smiths

The lanes were silent
There was nothing, no one, nothing around for miles
I doused our friendly venture
With a hard-faced
Three-word gesture

I started something
I forced you to a zone
And you were clearly
Never meant to go
Hair brushed and parted
Typical me, typical me
Typical me
I started something
...And now I'm not too sure

Talking in Code - Margot & the Nuclear So & So's

I gotta go and you're talking in code,
saying I know where you've been,
And I know where you go.

But I've been tired
from the minute I woke,
I stopped listening
the moment you spoke,
And said I'm long gone.
Yeah I'm long gone....

And I'm sleeping alone,
In a house I don't own,
'Cause if you're touring your mind,
You'll get lost every time.

And you'll sing me sad songs
to keep me awake,
in that bedroom we hid away.
Baby I'm long gone,
Yeah I'm long gone....

And your voice cracks like a piano,
You keep moving
but where are you going.
Baby we're long gone,
Yeah we're long gone

Set Yourself On Fire - Stars

In every single place that has ever, ever been
Hiroshima, Los Angeles and each town in between
There is only one thing
There is only one thing
One thing

In the darkest part of you that you have ever seen
In the smile of the child staring at the TV screen
In the diary of a priest, in the sheets that lie upon his bed
Out there amongst the waves and inside your lover's head

There is only one thing

20 years asleep before we sleep forever

Taste in Men - Placebo

Come back to me awhile
Change your style again
Come back to me awhile
Change your taste in men
It's been this way since Christmas Day
Dazzled, doused in gin
Change your taste in men
Come back to me awhile
Change your style again
Come back to me awhile
Change your taste in men
I'm killing time on Valentine's
Waiting for the day to end
Change your taste in men

Possibly Maybe - Bjork

As much as I definitely enjoy solitude
I wouldn't mind perhaps
spending little time with you
Sometimes
Sometimes

Possibly maybe probably love

Uncertainly excites me
baby
Who knows what's going to happen?
lottery or car crash
or you'll join a cult

Possibly maybe probably love

Mon petit vulcan
You’re eruptions and disasters
I keep calm
Admiring your lava
I keep calm

Too Little Too Late - Metric

You can burn your paper fingers in the ashtray
Place your swollen lips on mine
You can shave your heavy head in my carpeted hallway
Sure for the first time you're wearing the right clothes

Now take them off
Meet me on the band room rug
Tie my right hand to the ride

You can take a live wire into the bath with you
For a feeling you can't find
You can entertain your childhood friends with a tour of the bedroom
Laugh to erase the dirt on your mind

Oh let's move out
Meet me at the motel
Tie my right hand to the bible

Too little too late but we can't say no
It's too much to feel
Tie my right hand to the bible

Someday the Waves - Iron & Wine

Waking before you
I've got a fever and a childish wish for snow
Seems like a long, long time
Since I spun you to this borrowed radio
You pick a place that's where I'll be
Time like your cheek has turned for me
Someday the waves will stop
Every aching old machine will feel no pain
Someday we both will walk
Where a baby made tomorrow is again
Waking before you
I'm like the lord who sees his love though we don't know
Seems like a long, long time
Since I've been above you seen and loved you so
You pick a place that's where I'll be
Time like your cheek has turned for me

Zip @ mediafire | Zip @ megaupload

Textures by vikyvampirs90

SPN fanmix: I Had a Dream About Your Ghost [Dean/Henriksen]

sendthewolves — Thu, 16 Sep 2010 09:39:40 GMT

Title: I Had a Dream About Your Ghost
Pairing: Dean Winchester/Victor Henriksen
Rating: PG
Warnings: References temporary canon character death.
Summary: AU from Jus in Bello. The mix spans Henriksen's journey from hunting down Sam and Dean Winchester to facing the Apocalypse beside them, Dean's death and resurrection, and their changing relationship. With plenty of making out and manpain along the way.
Notes: Made by scorpiod1 for spnrarepairs.

God's Gonna Cut You Down - Johnny Cash

Well you may throw your rock and hide your hand
Workin' in the dark against your fellow man
But as sure as God made black and white
What's down in the dark will be brought to the light

You can run on for a long time
Run on for a long time
Run on for a long time
Sooner or later God'll cut you down
Sooner or later God'll cut you down

Go tell that long tongue liar
Go and tell that midnight rider
Tell the rambler, the gambler, the back biter
Tell 'em that God's gonna cut you down
Tell 'em that God's gonna cut you down
Tell 'em that God's gonna cut you down

Rodeo Town - The Kills

If I'm so evil
Then why are you satisfied
If I'm so evil
Why are you satisfied?
I had a dream about your ghost
You're breathing down my neck
Baby it starts in the shower
By letting your ashes down the drain

Ghost To Most - Drive-By Truckers

Saving everybody takes a man on a mission
with a swagger that can set the world at ease
Some believe it's God's own hand on the trigger
and the other dumping water in the streets
Talking tough is easy when it's other people's evil
and you're judging what they do or don't believe
It seems to me you'd have to have a hole you're own
to point a finger at somebody else's sheet

I don't know how good it does a man,
to keep on telling him how good it is he's free
free to wash his ghost down the drain,
and free for them to tell him there's no such a thing

Deep Red Bells - Neko Case

Where does this mean world cast its cold eye?
who's left to suffer long about you?
does your soul cast about like an old paper bag
past empty lots and early graves?
those like you who lost their way
murdered on the interstate
while the red bells rang like thunder

The Rooster Moans – Iron & Wine

Crack of dawn the rooster moans
Wake up boy you're far from home
Serpentine the tracks in flames
Longest path the devil laid
Led you straight aboard this rusty train

Lift your head cuz you can't sleep
Bite your lip cuz you can't eat
Darkest den the devil made
Jesus weeps but he's been paid
Not to ride inside this rusty train

Buzzard's breath the rooster moans
Stow it boy you're far from home
Stow your sorrows stow your fear
What'd you do to end up here
End up on the devil's rusty train

Fell On Black Days – Soundgarden

Whatsoever I've feared has come to life
And Whatsoever I've fought off became my life
Just when everyday seemed to greet me with a smile
Sunspots have faded
Now I'm doing time
Now I'm doing time
Cause I fell on black days
I fell on Black days

Whomsoever I've cured I've sickened now
Whomsoever I've cradled I've put you down
I'm a search light soul they say
But I can't see it in the night
I'm only faking when I get it right
When I get it right
Cause I fell on black days
I fell on Black days
How would I know
That this could be my fate
How would I know
That this could be my fate

Millstone - Brand New

I used to sleep without a single stir,
'Cause I was about my father's work.

Well take me out tonight,
This ship of fools I'm on will sink.
A millstone around my neck,
Be my breath, there's nothing I wouldn't give.

I used to pray like God was listening.
I used to make my parents proud.
I was the glue that kept my friends together,
Now they don't talk and we don't go out.

I used to know the name of every person I'd kissed.
Now I made this bed and I can't fall asleep in it.

The Man Who Sold The World - Nirvana

We passed upon the stair, we spoke in was and when
Although I wasn't there, he said I was his friend
Which came as a surprise, I spoke into his eyes
I thought you died alone, a long long time ago

Oh no, not me
We never lost control
You're face to face
With The Man Who Sold The World

In the Devil's Territory - Sufjan Stevens

Be still and know your sign
The Beast will arrive in time
We stayed a long, long time
We stayed a long, long time
To see you, to beat you
To see you at last

I saw the dragons drying
I saw the witches whine
We stayed a long, long time
But I'm not afraid to die
To see you, to meet you
To see you last

Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want (The Smiths cover) – Deftones

Good times for a change
See, the luck I've had
Can make a good man
Turn bad

So please please please
Let me, let me, let me
Let me get what I want
This time

Haven't had a dream in a long time
See, the life I've had
Can make a good man bad

So for once in my life
Let me get what I want
Lord knows, it would be the first time
Lord knows, it would be the first time

All These Things That I've Done - The Killers

When there's nowhere else to run
Is there room for one more son
One more son
If you can hold on
If you can hold on, hold on
I wanna stand up, I wanna let go
You know, you know - no you don't, you don't
I wanna shine on in the hearts of men
I want a meaning from the back of my broken hand

Over and out, last call for sin
While everyone's lost, the battle is won
With all these things that I've done
All these things that I've done
If you can hold on
If you can hold on

We Care A Lot – Faith No More

We care a lot about you people cause we're out to save the world
Yeah!

Oh, it’s a dirty job but someone’s gotta do it
Said, it’s a dirty job but someone’s gotta do it
Oh, it’s a dirty job but someone’s gotta do it

Zip!

Bonus icons

sendthewolves — Sat, 04 Sep 2010 02:06:10 GMT

So hey, our city has been declared a state of emergency after an earthquake (7.4 or 7.1, depending on the source). kiwiana and I are extremely fortunate, we didn't lose power like most of Christchurch and there hasn't been much damage to our place. It's just a heap of stuff fallen of shelves and a lighting fixture hanging from the ceiling. We've both been on the phone off and on since 5am, making sure friends and family members are okay, and thankfully they are.

It seems that no one has been killed, two people are seriously injured. There's a lot of damage to some parts of the city, and to the water and sewage systems. We aren't allowed to flush the loo, and everyone has to conserve water. Most areas are starting to get power back now.

Also, people were apparently looting. What the fuck, people, who does that?

I would like the aftershocks to be stopping now.

ETA: One person has been confirmed dead from a heart-attack during the earthquake. Another aftershock of around 6.0 is expected in the next 48 hours.

ETA 2: kiwiana has posted a more informative entry here

SPRINKLES!

sendthewolves — Tue, 24 Aug 2010 04:19:03 GMT

I MADE CUPCAKES. FUCK YEAH!

I made them from this recipe, because in all my recipe-googling this was one of the few things I thought I could actually handle, and I mostly followed it. But the picture on the site is mocking me with its perfect frosting. WHATEVER, WEBSITE, MINE HAVE SPRINKLES AND THEREFORE ARE SUPERIOR.

Of course, I haven't actually tried one yet, so for all I know they could taste like shit. But they look pretty?

Now I am watching youtube clips of JDM flirting with Craig Ferguson, and tonight we are going to see Inception again. Yay all around! :D

we spoke of was and when

sendthewolves — Tue, 10 Aug 2010 00:51:17 GMT

Holy shit, I am sitting up and while I feel somewhat dizzy I do not feel like I'm going to puke and pass out! YAY! I guess doing nothing but sleeping and watching White Collar for two days helped. :D Hopefully this will last long enough for me to work on my spnrarepairs assignment.

From psychedelicammo.

1. Reply to this post with the word PIRATES and I will pick six of your icons.
2. Make a post (including this info) and talk about the icons I chose.
3. Other people can then comment to you and make their own posts.
4. This will create a never ending cycle of icon glee.

Made by geeklikewoah.
Because nowhere in the bible does it say that Jesus wasn't a raptor.

Made by iconzicons.
Sometimes you just need an icon that displays this sentiment. Sometimes that icon needs to be relevant to Edgar Allan Poe.

Made by antler_art.
Cougar, the badass sniper from The Losers. Dude is a BAMF, enough said.

Made by knownaskate.
It combines two things I enjoy. Castiel being a creepy weirdo and Sam's ridiculous sideburns of doom.

Made by iconzicons.
Louis and Claudia from Interview With the Vampire, being sad and beautiful in one of my favourite scenes.

Made by darkmagic_luvr.
JO/BELA! BEING ALL HARDCORE! FUCK YEAH!

In the spirit of annoying you with memes, here is my Johari window. If you fancy filling it in that would be awesome.
Or, if you'd rather point out my flaws, my Nohari window. :D?

Fanmix: I Walked Into a Dagger [Jo/Bela]

sendthewolves — Fri, 30 Jul 2010 14:07:58 GMT

So, this is been my main method of procrastination lately. I don't know even know how this happened, but for some reason I decided to turn my Jo/Bela playlist into a proper mix, and since I find photoshop a wonderful distraction I ended up going overboard with the covers. It's been very soothing, but now it's done and I'm at a loss of what to do with myself, so I guess posting it is the next step.

Includes front and back cover, ten songs with individual covers, lyrics and zip.

This Girl Is Taking Bets - Thea Gilmore

This Girl is a stencil of a brushstroke in the rain
She’s a ghost of the city she’s a body through the windscreen
This girl is the snowfall where the spring should have been
She’s the stains on the pages of a top shelf magazine

This girl is a black eye she’s a bruise on your knee
She’s the ashes of the people that you really meant to be
This girl’s the resurrection she’s the comeback
She’s the absinthe and whiskey she is poetry and prozac

This girl is taking bets this girl’s a silhouette can’t you see

This girl is the flutter of fake lashes in the mirror
She’s a ragged edged fedora or a spanish souvenir
This girl is the clean cut she’s the frozen ground
She’s a knife drawn down the side street when there's no-one else around

This girl is the wild smile the icy stare
She’s the crackle of the static she’s the curses she's the prayers
This girl is the junkie in the children's matinee
She’s the 4 minute warning
She is hell to pay

Black Black Heart - David Usher

Something ugly this way comes
Through my fingers sliding inside
All these blessings all these burns
I'm godless underneath your cover
Search for pleasure search for pain
In this world now I am undying
I unfurl my flag my nation helpless

Black black heart why would you offer more
Why would you make it easier on me to satisfy
I'm on fire I'm rotting to the core
I'm eating all your kings and queens
All your sex and your diamonds

As I begin to lose my grip
On these realities your sending
Taste your mind and taste your sex
I'm naked underneath your cover
Covers lie and we will bend and borrow
With the coming sign
The tide will take the sea will rise and time will rape

Vow - Garbage

I can't use what I can't abuse
And I can't stop when it comes to you

You burned me out but I'm back at your door
Like Joan of Arc coming back for more

I nearly died
I nearly died
I nearly died

I came to cut you up
I came to knock you down
I came around to tear your little world apart
I came to shut you up
I came to drag you down
I came around to tear your little world apart
And break your soul apart

Our Time - Yeah Yeah Yeahs

I may be dead honey
but I was left with my eyes
and underneath sugar
well I’ve been stung by your lies
and my heart baby
is cold and blue
We're two of a kind baby
Me and You
It's our time sweet baby
To Break on through

It's the year to be hated
so glad that we made it
Cuz all the kids in the street
Whisper sounds that sweep
The stars under their feet
Well it's the year to be hated

Heart-Shaped Box - Nirvana

She eyes me like a Pisces when I am weak
I've been locked inside your Heart Shaped box for weeks
I've been drawn into your magnet tar pit trap
I wish I could eat your cancer when you turn black

Hey!
Wait!
I've got a new complaint
Forever in debt to your priceless advice

Black Swan - Sunset Rubdown

There was a rumor of a ghost in the bedroom
hanging in and around the bed
but by the time the moon rose, you had taken off your clothes
and had the pillow under your head

You’ve got mascara all over your bedsheets
You’ve got mascara all over your clothes
You’ve got mascara making broken hearted shapes on your face
And you have yet to see the ghost

My heart is a kingdom
Where the king is a heart
My heart is king
The king of hearts

Kissy Kissy - The Kills

It's been a long time coming
It's been a long time coming
I'm gonna stab your kissy, kissy mouth
It's been a long time coming

It's been a long time coming
It's been a long time coming
I'm gonna burn your kissy, kissy claw
It's been a long time coming

I'm gonna burn your kissy kissy claw
I'm gonna stab your kissy kissy heart
I'm gonna stab your kissy kissy mouth

Disaster Tourism - MewithoutYou

"Look, come to the window
She carries a candle at mid-day while the sun's still so high!"
But you knew better than to pay mind to what to people and the devil say call me outside,
I'll come running down into the vacant, intoxicating night,
call me outside to their haunted streets, their red electric lights,
I'm on the sad side of a nowhere town,
but sister I'm all you got so call me outside,
I'll come running down - Then, not another word.

Every You Every Me - Placebo

In the shape of things to come.
Too much poison come undone.
Cuz there's nothing else to do,
Every me and every you.
Every me and every you,
Every Me

Sucker love is known to swing.
Prone to cling and waste these things.
Pucker up for heaven’s sake.
There's never been so much at stake.

I serve my head up on a plate.
It's only comfort, calling late.
Cuz there's nothing else to do,
Every me and every you.
Every me and every you,
Every Me

Like the naked leads the blind
I know I'm selfish, I'm unkind
Sucker love I always find,
Someone to bruise and leave behind.

All alone in space and time.
There's nothing here but what here's mine.
Something borrowed, something blue.
Every me and every you.
Every me and every you,
Every Me

Dagger - Emily Jane White

Your legs are no longer but you walk just the same
Your charm is a pleasure yet an ever changing cage
It's like I walked into a dagger, took a step back
You turned around and didn't look back
Hey

I'm a rusty nail, you're an iron maid
You closed the coffin on everything I've saved
A red petal fallen, onto a concrete mass
A dark memento, every time you pass
Hey

Please, walk back to me
Because three kings are all I see

Red, White, fire in the night
Where are you going, dressed so well?
Blue, White, fire in the night
Where are you going, dressed like hell?

Zip!

Resources.

Ladies and Gentlemen, might I direct your attention this way

sendthewolves — Sun, 25 Jul 2010 22:12:38 GMT

CLICK HERE TO JOIN IN ON THE FUN!

You can prompt up until August 1st. Fulfilling prompts, however, will go on for an unlimited amount of time.

The next round of the Supernatural Femmeslash Exchange starts August 1st - make sure to sign up if you're interested!

<3

Last blindfold fic! I'll steal your breath [Jensen/Danneel, NC-17]

sendthewolves — Thu, 22 Jul 2010 02:15:13 GMT

THE CLEANING IS FINALLY OVER. BRING ON THE FLAT INSPECTION, LANDLORD. :DDDD Although, now I'm going to spend all day trying not to touch anything so I don't make a mess. And there is no coke in the house. Tragic, I know.

Anyway, here is my last contribution to blindfold_spn. :D

Title: I'll Steal Your Breath
Wordcount: 1400
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jensen/Danneel
Content note: Crossdressing, pegging, genderplay
Summary: For the blindfold_spn prompt: Jensen/Danneel, Pegging, crossdressing, dirty talk, or any other kind of genderplay than isn't full-on genderswap (ie girl!Jensen or boy!Danneel) would be amazing.

Jensen sits on the bed; fingers fidgeting with the bedspread, stroking out the cresses, and waits. The lights are dimmed; he’s been sitting here ready for thirty minutes. Danneel likes to keep him waiting, says that the anticipation is half the fun.

Footsteps come down the hallway and Jensen’s heart skips. He stands, quickly smoothes his skirt, and waits for the knock. She always knocks; after all, Danneel is a gentleman.

“Hey, baby,” she says when he opens the door. She has to stand up on tip toes to kiss his cheek, close shaven and smooth. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Bad manners to keep a lady waiting,” Jensen replies, stepping back to allow her into the bedroom. “Hope you’re planning on making it up to me.”

“Of course.” She stands back, drags her eyes over him, from his strappy black heels, over the short blue dress she picked out, eyes catching on the slither of black lace peaking out the low neckline. “God, Jen, you look so pretty.”

“Don’t look too bad yourself,” Jensen says and she grins. He traces the tailored line of her pants with a couple of fingers, following the curve of her hip. She moves closer so he can feel the line of her strap-on pressed against his thigh.

“You feel how hard you make me?” Danneel murmurs against his mouth, her hands sliding under his skirt, skimming over the lace at the top of his stockings. “Just wanna fuck you right now, just push up your pretty dress and bend you over. You want that, baby?”

“Easy, tiger,” he says, taking a step back, heels clicking on the hardwood floor. “I’m not that kind of girl.”

“Really?” Danneel walks around him to sit on the bed, legs sprawled wide, leaning back and looking up at him with a smirk. “You were definitely that kind of girl last week. Couldn’t get enough of my cock.”

Jensen moves so he’s standing between her legs, tipping back the brim of the fedora her hair’s scooped up under so he can lean down and kiss her, feeling his carefully applied lipgloss smear across her mouth. Danneel’s hands rest on his hips, holding him close, fingers stroking over the soft fabric.

Danneel uses her grip on Jensen’s hips to tug him closer, down, and he lets her pull him to his knees between her thighs. He slides a hand along the seam of her pants, until he’s gripping the strap-on, squeezing it and Danneel gasps as though she can feel it.

“It’s funny,” Jensen says softly, his other hand moving to unbutton her pants. “Guy like you could get any girl he wanted. But you’re here with me, so fucking hard for me.”

She raises her hips, helps him pull her pants down around her ankles, exposing smooth, tanned thighs and her thick red cock, held in place with black straps.

“Suck it, baby,” she sighs, fingers finding their way into his hair, twisting and tugging.

Jensen raises his eyes to meet hers, dark and shadowed from her hat. He licks his lips once, then grips tight and sucks it into his mouth. It tastes like plastic, heavy and fake on his tongue, but he takes it as deep as he can, feeling his own cock stir at the breathy noises Danneel is making. She’s not wearing underwear, and under the scent of rubber he can smell her pussy, hot and wet. He rubs two fingers over her clit and then she lets out a real moan from deep in her throat.

Pulling off, he licks up the length of her shaft, fingers steadily working her clit until she’s shaking, back arching off the bed.

“God, yeah, suck it harder, I know you can take more,” she groans, stream of words never stopping as she bucks against him, fucking his mouth and grinding her clit against his hand as she comes.

He gives her a few minutes to recover, waiting for her to sit up on her elbows before licking his fingers clean.

“My good girl,” Danneel breaths, her eyes wide and dazed, suit jacket rumpled and her crisp white shirt twisted, pulled tight over her breasts. The fedora’s long gone, a few strands of her carefully pinned up hair falling loose around her face.

Giving her cock a lazy pull, Jensen says, “Got another round in you?”

“You bet your ass,” Danneel says, pulling herself upright, legs together this time. “I bet you want to get off, sweetheart. Must be soaking your panties by now, huh?”

Jensen bites his lower lip and nods. “You wanna feel?”

“C’mere,” Danneel says, stroking a hand along her thigh and he moves to straddle her, sheer stockings grazing her bare skin. He keeps most of his weight on his legs, but she splays one hand across his lower back to support him, the other pushing up his dress to expose the black panties cupping his dick and balls, achingly hard and tight.

Danneel flicks her thumb over the lace, wet and sticky with precome. “Oh yeah, you’re fucking dripping for me, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, Danny,” he says, leaning forward and resting his head against her shoulder. The muscles in his thighs are shaking with the effort of holding himself up, high heels not helping the strain. Danneel grinds up against him, strap-on rubbing against his cock and he pants open mouthed against her neck.

“Don’t be shy, Jen,” she says, rolling her hips again. “Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck,” Jensen says, words strangled in his throat when she palms him through his panties, long fingers moving over his cock. “Shit, fuck me.”

A smile spreads across her face at that and her hand leaves his cock to grab her own, pressing it against him. “Whatever you want.”

He crawls onto the mattress on his hands and knees, skirt pushed halfway up his back, waiting as she positions herself behind him. She strokes one hand over his ass, carefully pushes the lace to one side, and then a long, slender finger is pressing inside of him, quickly followed by another, working him open.

“God, you’re so tight,” she hisses. A third finger pushes inside him, making him gasp. “Soaking wet and I still have to lube you up. Least I know you’re not fucking around with other men behind my back, just me you’re this needy for.”

“Just you,” Jensen echoes, pushing back against her fingers, the burn of intrusion starting to mix with pleasure. “C’mon, Danny, want your cock.”

“All yours, baby,” she says, pulling her fingers out. He winces a slightly at the sting and she strokes along his spine, soothing, and then he feels the slicked up head brushing against his asshole. Danneel steadies him with a hand on his hip, pushing inside, so much thicker than her fingers, stretching him wide.

“Okay?” she asks, stilling halfway inside him, letting him adjust.

“Yeah,” Jensen grits out from between clenched teeth. “Yeah, keep going.”

She starts moving again; rocking her hips back and forth, fucking in and out of him and Jensen moves with her. Soon, they pick up the pace, Danneel pumping into him and Jensen pushing back to meet her, angling his hips until she’s hitting him just fucking right with every thrust. Jensen’s moaning, a raw stream of sound that’s going to leave his throat ragged. His cock desperate and painfully hard and leaking, and when Danneel brings a hand around to fondle him he barely has time to register it before he’s writhing and coming all over the black lace.

They both collapse onto the bed, laying side by side and breathing heavily.

“Jesus Christ,” Jensen says, and Danneel laughs breathlessly.

“My thoughts exactly.” She stretches, one hand idly toying with the strap-on. It’s over now; Jensen can feel it, the shift in the atmosphere. They should clean up, at least strip off completely, but Jensen can’t bring himself to move, and from the look of her, neither can Danneel.

He wraps an arm around her and she rolls close and smiles sleepily when he leans in to kiss her.

“You make such a pretty girl,” she murmurs against his mouth, rolling his bra strap between her fingers.

“Thanks,” he says, closing his eyes and settling against her. “You’re my favourite leading man.”

More porn: We are a fever [Jared/girl!Jensen, NC-17, 900 words]

sendthewolves — Wed, 21 Jul 2010 06:53:30 GMT

Haha first time I've written J2 and it's this. *facepalm*

Title: We are a fever
Wordcount: 900
Rating: NC-17
Content: Menstrual kink
Pairing(s): Jared/girl!Jensen
Summary: For the blindfold_spn prompt: girl!Jensen/Jared, Jensen is menstruating and totally feels gross. She really doesn't want to see Jared for the short period of time that she's bleeding - it's not like they can do anything. Jared's not having it, and even though Jensen feels kinda gross Jared convinces her that he doesn't mind and that's he totally wants to go down on her.

Jensen feels like shit, she aches all over and it seems like the day’s shoot is never going to end. All she wants to do is curl up in bed and die, maybe take a hot bath to try and ease her cramps. She doesn’t want to run around in the freezing cold and get tackled into the dirt again.

She wraps Deanna’s leather jacket tight around herself and tries not to look too miserable. It’s late and this is the last scene of the day, everyone wants to go home.

“Suck it up, princess,” she mutters to herself, taking a deep breath.

“Who’s a princess?” Jared asks, appearing from somewhere behind her and throwing an arm over her shoulders.

“You are, sweetheart,” she says, leaning into him slightly. “The prettiest one in the land.”

“Guess that makes you Prince Charming,” he says with a grin. “Gonna slay the dragon and deflower me? That could be an interesting game.”

“Sounds fun,” Jensen replies with a sigh. “But it’ll have to wait. It’s hell week, and I feel like crap.”

Jared rubs her back, but before he can reply they get the call that it’s time to start shooting. Time for Jensen to eat dirt again.

When they finally get home, Jensen heads straight to the bathroom and then to her bedroom. They haven’t really talked about this since they got together; Jensen spends most nights in Jared’s room but she likes to know she still has her own space to retreat to.

She finds a pair of baggy sweatpants and one of Jared’s t-shirts, and crawls into bed and under the covers. She doesn’t expect Jared ten minutes later, setting a glass of water and some painkillers on the nightstand and slipping into bed with her.

“Hey,” she says, twisting to look at him. “It’s cool, you don’t have to. Put a rain check on it for a few days.”

“Shh,” Jared says, kissing her neck. “You don’t have to do anything, just let me take care of you.”

And with that, he’s slipping under the covers, rolling her onto her back.

His hands slid up her hips and under her shirt, smoothing over her belly, and Jensen instinctively pushes them away.

“Don’t,” she murmurs. “C’mon, man, I’m all gross.”

He drops his hands away and kisses her instead. “Wanna make you feel good.” His lips are soft against her skin, rough hint of stubble from his cheek scrapping her thigh, and damn, she wants to let him, wants something to ease the ache. He lifts his head to look at her and she nods, lip caught between her teeth.

Jared plants another kiss on her stomach, fingers slipping into the waistband of her sweatpants, and with a quick look up at her face, tugs them down and off, taking her panties and, oh god, the sanitary pad she prefers to use at night, with them.

“There we go,” he says quietly, fingers stroking lightly over her cunt, coming away bloody.

“Gonna mess up the sheets,” Jensen breathes.

“I’ll wash them,” she feels the words as much as hears them, his just brushing skin.

She gasps when he licks around her opening, stroking her hip again, the trailing down to rub at her clit while his other hand slips between her legs, opening her up. His tongue pushes inside, pulling out and licking all over her pussy then back up inside her. Jensen feels herself flush with arousal and embarrassment, moaning despite herself and Jared mirrors it, a low rumble that vibrates through her.

“God, you taste amazing,” Jared says, pulling back.

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Jensen bites out, squirming away a little.

“I’m serious,” Jared says, thumbing over her clit, fingers sliding through her wetness. “Christ, Jen, so fucking hot.”

He buries his face in her pussy again, tongue trailing over her clit and back down, licking and sucking at her.

“Always wanted to try this,” Jared says, punctuating each word with a swipe of his tongue. “Every month you go and disappear on me; don’t let me look after you like I want too. Fuck, I knew it’d be good.”

She lets out a sound embarrassingly close to a whine when he fucks his tongue into her, sharp pressure making her hips buck.

“So fucking filthy, Jen,” he moves away again, dark eyes flicking up to meet hers. “Want me to lick you clean?”

Jensen can’t find words, just nods helplessly. He must have blood all over his mouth, on his tongue; Jensen’s back arches, her head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. She feels him smile against her thigh before sucking at her clit, hands straying up and under her shirt, rubbing at her breasts, mouth all over her cunt. Everything feels so sensitive; too much, but she wants more, her whole body feels electric, lit up and white hot as she comes.

Jared cleans her up afterwards, all tender and careful, before crawling up to lie beside her. He kisses her open mouthed and she tastes herself on his tongue; thicker, headier than usual.

“Feel any better?” he asks, curling around her and settling against the pillows.

“Mmm,” Jensen feels like she’s floating far away, body warm and heavy. “Better than any painkillers I’ve tried. Thanks.”

It seems like a stupid thing to say, but Jared just laughs. “Anytime.”

Another round of blindfold_spn is over

sendthewolves — Tue, 20 Jul 2010 23:17:47 GMT

And that means porn! So here's one of my three fills. I'll post the others as I get around to tidying them up a little. The fact that I have to clean the house today, and my love of procrastination could result in a slight pornspam today.

Title: My blood is singing with your voice
Wordcount: 1380
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Sam/Dean/Jo
Summary: For the blindfold_spn prompt: Sam/Dean/Jo, Hunting together in a graveyard, Dean performs cunnilingus on Jo while Sam watches.

Sometimes Jo hates the simple hunts. She knows she should appreciate them, enjoy the break from being smashed into walls or scratched up by some monster or another. But the thing is, even the easiest salt and burn gets the blood pumping adrenaline through her like wildfire, clawing at her insides like a beast trying to break free, but with no fight there's no release, leaving her desperate and strung out.

She watches wide eyed as Dean drops the match and the grave ignites in flame, licking up into the night. The heat is instant, intense on Jo's face and arms, warming away gooseflesh made by the heavy cold around them. The silence is broken only by the crackle of the fire. Jo's blood feels hot and heavy in her veins, heart pumping too fast; the itch under her skin seeking release.

Sam and Dean are standing shoulder to shoulder on the other side of the open grave. She watches them through the smoke, faces blurred. Sam's hands are in his pockets, Dean's fists clench and unclench, fingers tapping against his thighs, moving moving moving, distorted by the thick, curling smoke and all lit up orange by the flames.

Jo thinks she feels what he does, the build up inside, the energy that keeps people like them alive. The need to let it all out before it burns you up. Her face feels flushed, and her stomach is twisted and hot. She shifts slightly; squirming on the spot like it'll do something for the ache that's starting to build up between her thighs. Sam catches her eye, and he must see something there because a smile quirks his lips as he glances between her and Dean, nudging Dean with his shoulder.

Dean follows Sam's gaze, and Jo sucks her lip between her teeth, biting down slightly. They get it, she knows and then Dean is there beside her, his hands on her shoulders, pushing her hair back and stroking over her pulse. Dean's bottom lip got split in a fight last week; it's healing but still fuller, redder, and she wonders if it hurts when she stands up on tip toes to crush their mouths together. Dean’s hands are all over her, running down her back, skimming under her shirt, and she realizes that she's rubbing herself against him.

There's movement behind them, Sam closing the distance until he's at Dean's shoulder, his mouth against Dean's ear, voice low, "Come on, man, help her out here. Can't you see she's fucking desperate for it?"

Dean's tongue flicks over his lips, and nods, grins at her like he's her best friend and then drops to his knees. He runs his hands up her legs, rubbing up and down over the denim covering her inner thighs, then gets his fingers on the button of her jeans, flicking it open, tugging at the zipper and pulling them down. There's a rush of hot and cold over her exposed legs, but she can't focus on that when Dean's mouthing at her through the cotton of her panties, sensation softened by the fabric, and now she's fucking throbbing, Dean's hands smooth over the back of her thighs and he plants a kiss on her hipbone, sending a shiver through her body, but she needs more, she needs his mouth right between her legs.

Pushing her hips forward, one of her hands holding his shoulder, the other resting at the back of his head, Jo pulls him closer. Dean gets with the program instantly, fingers hooking into the elastic of her panties he gives a sharp tug and lets them fall around her ankles. He moves forward, still on his knees, backing her up until she's pressed against the back of a headstone. A hand on her shoulder makes her start, Sam is behind her, looking down at Dean with a heat in his eyes that still makes Jo's heart jump after months with them; researching, eating and sleeping, working, fighting and fucking.

Dean's got his mouth pressed against her thigh, but he's looking up at Sam, raises and eyebrow. As if taking a cue from his brother, Sam lifts her easily, and if it gives her a jolt of fear, of rope around her wrists and a knife in her eye, she crushes the thought down. Sam sits her down on the headstone, concrete cold against her bare ass, but the fire's still going strong enough for Jo can feel its heat.

"You always keep ladies waiting this long?" she says with a pointed look at Dean, voice shaking with the effort of stringing the words together.

Behind her Sam laughs and she can feel it vibrate through his chest.

"No, maam," Dean says, sounding amused, eyes bright in the low light. "Just the ones who like a little teasing."

She hooks a leg around his neck and uses it to tug him forward, "Then get to it."

She lets out a low moan when he finally presses his mouth to her cunt; kissing it first and then his tongue is pushing up inside, warm and wet, lapping at her eagerly, hands holding her thighs apart. He fucks his tongue in and out of her, until she’s gasping and shaking, hips rocking back and forth. Then he’s licking up to her clit and sucking, and fuck, her toes curl and it feels like all her muscles contract and clench, all that energy inside her surging and pulsing through every nerve. Her head falls back against Sam's chest, his hands rubbing up and down her arms; she can hear his breathing, as fast and harsh as her own.

Dean pulls away for a moment, lets out a long breath, warm against her tender flesh. Opening her eyes, she seeks him out, lips shining, her wetness smeared all across them and he grins, murmurs, “God, Jo, so fucking wet for me.”

“Mm, gonna finish the job?” Jo says, slouching loose limbed, trusting Sam’s grip to keep her upright, spreading her legs wider. “Or maybe Sam’d better take over.”

“He won’t get you off like I will,” Dean says and Sam snorts, leaning forward and kissing her neck, sucking and nipping at her skin. She gasps and Sam smiles against her throat.

“Prove it.”

Dean buries his face between her legs, wide mouthed and messy; licking, sucking, tongue twisting, pushing her to breaking point. Jo’s fingers slide through his hair, pulling at his head and frantically urging moretherenow.

He lets her guide him; ready, willing and oh so fucking able, with his lips and tongue, and his hair tickling her thighs. She tugs his hair, urging his mouth to her clit and groans at the pressure. Sam is solid behind her; one hand resting on her hip, thumb rubbing circles over the exposed skin, the other fondling her breast through her shirt. His mouth against her ear, urging her to come in a hot rush of breath, and then she’s throwing back her head, feeling pleasure rush through her and everything but the sensations of Dean’s mouth and Sam’s hands melting away into a distant blur.

The fire has burned itself to embers and the cold is creeping close when Jo opens her eyes. She’s not sure her legs are going to hold her, but she stands anyway, grinning at Sam over her shoulder when he steadies her. Dean gets to his feet, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth.

“Better?” he asks, voice rough and self-satisfied.

“Much,” Jo says, rearranging her jeans from where they’ve tangled around one ankle and tugging them up.

Sam pats her on the shoulder once and then moves away, apparently confident in her ability to stand by herself. He gathers up the shovels they’d tossed aside earlier while Dean peers into the grave.

“Right, let’s fill this baby in and get gone,” he says, and it almost makes Jo laugh, how quickly they get back to business. She doesn’t though, just holds out her hand for a shovel. Sam throws one and she catches it one handed. Hefting its weight, Jo throws the first shovel of dirt into the grave, extinguishing the glowing embers where it lands.

sendthewolves — Tue, 13 Jul 2010 08:59:45 GMT

As seen all over my flist. I used That Much Further West since it's the most recent thing I've written.

I write like
Mark Twain

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

Lol I wish.

And a piece of unposted PWP got this result, which amuses me:

I write like
Chuck Palahniuk

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

national holiday: religious	lambing season	killing the big scary bug that is in the bathroom when you're trying to take a shower	arguing over toothpaste brands	Weevils in the rice
napping in the middle of the day	practicing playing piano (or other instrument)	paper work snafus	watching TV	Trying to decide to take an umbrella or not.
someone's borrowed your car/spaceship/boat and it comes back in less than ideal condition/shape/cleanliness	Walking to the ice cream shop with a friend	FREE SPACE!	Have to stop and take a stone out of one's shoe	-mangoes for breakfast
neighbours are having a loud party.	Dealing with a horse who does not want to be brought in from pasture	Dealing with a bug infestation	walking the dog (and picking up poop)	Eating at Applebee's
-filming/watching home videos	baking chocolate chip cookies	Grocery shopping	song stuck in your head and you can't get it out	stupid smoke detector goes off when there's no fire so you unplug it and then you feel guilty because OMG what if there WAS a fire??

sendthewolves — Sat, 10 Jul 2010 06:40:52 GMT

First up, HAPPY BIRTHDAY nerdwegian! I hope it's fabulous! :D

Also:

You should sign up. Yes, you.

Oh and mundane_bingo. It's probably lame that this is the bingo I'm most excited about. But whatever, fic about people doing boring, everyday things excites me.

you only ever had her when you were a fever

sendthewolves — Tue, 06 Jul 2010 13:21:10 GMT

I really want to sign up for spnsupporting but I keep claiming prompt tables and then doing nothing with them. But this comm is so up my alley.

If I do it I think I'll make my own table, but I'm not sure who I want to claim. So!

View Poll: #1588548

I can't guarantee anything, and there are only six spaces on the table, but if there's anyone you'd like to see my take on here's your chance.

Or I could just go write porn at blindfold_spn. There are a few prompts I've got my eye on. \Porn/

I am a pimp

sendthewolves — Sat, 03 Jul 2010 03:04:05 GMT

You know you want to join ~~TEAM HELL~~. Tell them I sent you! Do it, I'll make it worth your while. If you know what I mean.

pray til I go blind

sendthewolves — Wed, 30 Jun 2010 02:25:35 GMT

THE FANMIX MEME ♫

I have had to most unproductive couple of days EVER. I got linked to tv tropes on Sunday night and aside from breaks to sleep, eat and shower, I didn't close my last tab until 3 am Tuesday. NEVER AGAIN, YOU GUYS. NEVER AGAIN. I've been checking my flist kind of sporadically, but I'm probably way behind on everything. I don't know why I do these things to myself, but it was definitely a new low for me.