12 May 2007 @ 03:35 pm
It's been a comment fic kinda day  
For the Five Flans Ficathon: [Well-Worn Pajamas] - the story of what would have happened if Cupid had finished at episode nine, plus a scene. (Alex/Claire, in which I indulge myself shamelessly :">). (eta: Okay and I got all fixated and wrote Alex/Claire and their first baby :"> [here]).

And then [ profile] dogeared wrote another excerpt of her Nantucket AU ([Four-Wheel Drive]) in which John and Rodney realized they wanted sex, but didn't actually have it. What's a girl to do but [fix that situation]? :>
24 September 2006 @ 12:06 pm
1. [ profile] slytherindyke made manips of the family McKay/Sheppard from the Iowa universe over at her journal - scoot over and see!

2. I confess couldn't stand it either - so I wrote a comment coda of Rodney coming back for John in the threads to 'Benediction'. I swear it makes things a little better (in that, please stop being mean to my heart way)

3. [ profile] franticjoy has been sucked into SGA - *beams* - and you can friend her new SGA journal at [ profile] franticsga. She's posted a teaser of the story she's currently writing, and it makes me SO HAPPY. Hop on over and bask in the joy :)
21 April 2006 @ 10:19 am
Drabble: Azkaban (Draco, PG, 100 words)  
The Aurors pause for a second outside the gates. It's a kindness he wishes he could scorn, but desolation is already tugging at the fringes of his magic and the world is graying. Despite temptation - the lure of a temporary escape - he does not close his eyes. His decision is made – he'll meet this dying, sum of choice and curse and loss, with the defiance left to him; a twisted inheritance. He refuses regret, yet is not so foolish as to let this pass – tilts his face toward the sun and counts out the moments before memory becomes prison.
25 October 2005 @ 07:43 am
Drabblet: Without as Within  
Drabblet: Without as Within
Author: [ profile] sheafrotherdon
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Rating: G
Summary: The autumn after Sirius falls. Loosely related to the prompt for day twenty-five at [ profile] scarvesnhats. 204 words.

Be still, he'd whispered . . . )
05 October 2005 @ 10:01 pm
Drabblet: Daft  
For the October third prompt over at [ profile] scarvesnhats:

Out in the woods of autumn! I have cast
Aside the shackles of the town, that vex
The fetterless soul, and come to hide myself

- from Autumn in the West, by William Davis Gallagher

. . . I give you the daftest drabblet that ever did live. no really )
04 September 2005 @ 10:08 pm
Three drabbles, all revolving around the theme of 'holidays.' I um - was apparently feeling a bit dark . . .

Bellatrix/Voldemort: the dawn of a new age )

Sirius/Regulus/Remus: winter solstice )

Sirius/Regulus: Day of the Dead )
28 August 2005 @ 06:07 pm
Queerditch drabble  
I did only the one drabble today - my ability to write is apparently off in the Bahamas somewhere, having a far better time of things than I.

Rights of Passage: H/D - Harry takes the Dark Mark )
16 August 2005 @ 06:35 pm
Drabbles and Drabblets  
I'm gathering drabbles from far and wide so that I have them archived in just one place:

from [ profile] dogdaysofsummer:

August 1 (prompt: The enigma of August. / Season of dust and teenage arson. from "A Path Between Houses," by Greg Rappleye) )

August 2 (prompt: a photograph of a young boy on a swing, head lowered to pat a large, black dog on the head. )

written for [ profile] setissma in lo, the month of april:

Harry/Draco, the middle of the war )
24 July 2005 @ 12:01 pm
Drabblet: Puppies/Pool (for Lah, who prompted) 110 words  
He stands and watches, dappled kiss of sunlight-shadow soft against his freckled back. Sirius dives (slip and shift of Black-pale skin) and Remus smiles -- flex and curl of awkward toes, mud between like warmth, like memories (hoarded; touch and skim and arch . . . to silence).

His hair is wet against his scalp, and water prickles behind his knees. Summer jewel, this pond (this moment), reflected green of sheltering trees to bind him, hold him to this spot as sure as spells, as firm as friendship. (The water breaks and Sirius smiles; sleek, forgotten, once-made prince).

More, he thinks, and closes August (safe and secret) against his palm.
07 July 2005 @ 10:20 pm
For La: H/D (262 words)  
He stays, and weaves fresh darkness from desperate cries and the split-second plea of pain-curled hands that reach and reach and reach to stop him. He stays, and hides from every footstep, from shout-spill-calls and those who’d stumble, curse and search.

His wand arm shakes, his fingers locked and twisted, bloodied, soiled. (The final spell’s a slick, green poison that curls in his stomach, simmers beneath his new-torn skin and even the blood that spills through his fingers can’t leach the venom, stop its spread).

He jams his back against a tree and waits, the bark-rough pain a leavening pleasure, and even after – sun to spill over broken bodies – he waits with purpose, usefulness lost.

He slips and shifts from waking to sleeping, from consciousness to something broken, deeper – clawing loss of blood and breath. He wakes with tears upon his cheeks and once with laughter in his mouth and -

- rises up through every layer of fog that steals the hope he though he knew and, cool as twilight, a finger’s pressed against his lips. Even sleeping, he’d know the ice-soft touch of such a hand and he thinks perhaps it’s over now.

The finger drags (bump of chin) and tilts his head and soft - his lips are touched by others. His breath’s a sob and he presses closer - sweet-smoke-sour, a tongue to murmur faith and change.


Conviction in such simple syllables.

He buries his fingers in ash-blond hair and sets aside the Boy Who Lived to be the man who claims this life.
04 July 2005 @ 08:24 pm
For Imo: Summer (100 words)  
He’s drowsy, lulled by satisfaction, limbs made heavy by the sleep-soft burn of the morning sun. His hands still tremble (his breathing hitches on the gentle curve of a sated exhale) but there are fingers threading calm through his hair, zephyr-playful, like notes of twilight at the back of his throat. The salt that clings to his cooling skin is kissed away by gentle lips and - sigh . . . he hums a note of summer pleading (amber-gold, storms so distant) and shifts – a nudge, and the crown of his dampened head fits against the stolen secrets of Remus’ palm.

Prompt me!
04 April 2005 @ 12:23 am
Drabblets: The Timing of Dreams  
Drabblets from this afternoon's Queerditch (tidied up a little bit). The prompt was was song-lyrics and um, if anyone's seen my happy pups, could they return them to me, asap?

Sirius/Remus: Many many times in dreams / we were secretly kissing each other / I was swallowed by your clear round eyes / Deep in my mind I was highly aroused / Even I myself know this time it's serious. )

Sirius/Remus: Cause love don't need a reason / Love don't always rhyme / And love is all we have for now / What we don't have is time )
30 March 2005 @ 10:29 am
Drabblet: Older (211 words)  
He kisses the inside of Remus’ elbow, where gossamer skin smoothes over a spider web of tiny veins. There’s sweat gathered in the crease-bend-lift of this lax, heavy arm and he licks away the taste of it with the tip of his tongue. Remus watches, barely awake, blinking slowly behind the waterfall tumble of sleep-messed hair. He shivers slightly as Sirius blows morning s’morning over his skin and smiles a brand of reckless enchantment. Remus' fingers twitch, fingertip to open palm, and flutter to a curving rest.

They’re older now, and their hipbones jut and their skin is torn and mended in unpredictable places. They’re held together by magic and ink, determination knit into their being, and nothing tastes of dirt-smoke-boy anymore, although their limbs remember how and where to fall. It’s loss-yes-now that lingers in the hollow of their collarbones and dust-hurt-thankfulness that glides beneath their hands. It’s scars that neither could prevent and food that never made it to their table and yet – it’s hope in some clumsy, adult fashion.

As pulses slow they spill their limbs and twine about each other closely. Remus’ fingers stretch and write a fractured tale of missed you, home now, beauty, stay close over the planes of Sirius’ back.
28 March 2005 @ 09:15 am
Drabblet: Monday Morning  
I wrote this for Rina -- but the rest of us might be in need of a Monday morning pick-me-up too :)


He wakes to the soft whisper of warm breath across his collarbone, a nose snuffling lovingly against his throat. “P’foot,” he murmurs, smiling sleepily. “Leave m’be.”

But Sirius doesn’t – Sirius never does. Instead he nuzzles into the sleep-dark curve of Remus’ neck, confiding kisses to the secret places beneath his jaw, stubble rasping against stubble. He smiles against the bobbing protest of Remus’ adam’s apple, nudges gentle sighs to spill from drowsy lips as he nibbles at an earlobe and murmurs Moony. Remus stretches – arms, chest, arch-of-belly – and tangles their legs, whispering appreciation through the haze of lingering slumber, leaning into Sirius’ heat and tangling his fingers in dark, rumpled hair.

When they kiss it’s clumsy – laughter tumbling into mouths and breath that snags while fingers glide. But oh it’s Monday-grey turned evening-gold when tongues touch and dance and slip and there, he’s waking, cherished, blinking, and such a week’s beginning, this.
04 March 2005 @ 03:18 pm
To reciprocate on the kissing challenge -- four comment fics written in the last couple of days for various lovely folk. PG to R -- they get smuttier as they go (mmmm).

For [ profile] statelines: R/S, neck-nuzzling sweetness . . .  )

For [ profile] starstillwonder: who wanted 'sirius in remus's bed (circumstances are totally up to you), january eyes, kissing.' )

For [ profile] musesfool: jealous!Sirius and the Remus he likes to throw up against a wall . . .  )

For [ profile] franticbabbles: R/S smut -- iloveyousomuchIdon'thavewords . . . )