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Jul. 9th, 2020 | 03:24 pm

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For The Sake of Consistency

Apr. 25th, 2014 | 05:11 am
mood: awakeawake
music: that song in my head

(wrote a fic ages ago and never posted it here)

It's Not That You're So Special, You're Just The Cross I Bear (Madison/Zoe, AHS: Coven)Collapse )

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Back To Life (Madison/Zoe, AHS Coven)

Nov. 24th, 2013 | 09:44 am

Madison pulls her from sleep, her mind still dream-drenched, dazed. At first, she doesn't know if this is really happening, the naked blonde curled up against her, running her fingers teasingly along the contours of her body over her nightgown.
"Madison?" She murmurs.
She can make out her face in the thin slant of moonlight coming in through the window. Madison's eyes look haunted, hungry.
"What are you doing?"
"Reading a magazine," she dead pans, smiling mischievously, her hands creeping up Zoe's nightgown, exploring her body eagerly.
"Wait! Stop!" Madison pulls her hands back, and rests her chin on them. She stares at Zoe. Zoe squints, her eyes slowly adjusting to the dark, Madison's features getting clearer.
"That's not what I recall you saying last night."
"Where's Kyle?"
"Kyle's a big boy, he can take care of himself for a night, if you know what I mean." She pauses, looks thoughtful. "Or not. I mean, have you seen the guy?"
Zoe sighs in exasperation. "Madison, why are you in my bed?"
"Because you want me here."
Zoe is speechless, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks which she hopes it's too dark to see.
Madison sprawls on her back, giving Zoe the full show. "You wanted me back. You wanted me back so badly you brought me back from the dead. So here I am, baby, I'm all yours. What are you going to do with me?" She says it like a challenge, like a dare, teasing. But there's something raw and hostile underneath.
No, Zoe saved her life, she saved her…she should be grateful, shouldn't she? Zoe feels hot tears prick her eyes and something else. Shame.
"Oh please, it's not worth crying over. In a way it's kind of sweet. I don't think anyone's ever missed me like that before."
She turns on her side and kisses Zoe softly on the lips. "Thank you."
Zoe feels boneless, melting."For bringing you back?"
"No, for giving a shit."
She takes Zoe's hand and holds it over her heart. "I can't get used to it again," she murmurs "The way it's always beating, I can feel it all the time. I think I feel it in my sleep. It's relentless. I can't remember how I ever got used to it."
And for the first time, Zoe wonders if bringing her back was a mistake, was selfish. If dead things were better left dead. All dead things.
Madison squeezes her hand tighter. "Zoe, you have to make me feel alive again. You have to. Like last night, okay?"
Zoe nods silently and dutifully begins running her tongue over one of Madison's perfect breasts. Like she's been doing it her whole life and not just in her fantasies. Madison arches her back and sighs with something like pleasure but more like relief.

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Sleepovers with Fugitives (Deb/Hannah, Dexter)

Sep. 17th, 2013 | 01:03 am
mood: the mood of sleeping pills not working
music: "Oscar Wilde" - Company of Thieves (imh)

They never talk about the things they do in the dark. That would make it real. The next morning, it feels like part of her dreams. She wants to mean nightmares, but she can't. And anyway her life has been a nightmare for so long, it's hard to differentiate things anymore - pleasure or self destruction, desire or depravity. How does one even know what sane is when their world has been fucked up as long as they can remember? Surreal levels of fucked up. Maybe this is exactly what she should be doing. She kind of wants to laugh.

"Did you sleep well?" Hannah asks over breakfast, with a slight smirk. Too early for sparkly-eyed and smiles and even conversation really, as far as Deb's concerned. Of course Hannah is fresh-faced and glowy in grey yoga pants and a thin white tank top. She's already cooked up a four-course breakfast. It smells delicious, but Deb just drinks her coffee, hair in her face feet up on her chair. "Like a fucking baby." And she did. Hannah had completely and utterly exhausted her. As usual.
"Good." Now she smiles benignly, the patron fucking saint of serial killers and Martha Stewart Living.

The first time the slender blonde crawled in bed with her, she had pretended to be asleep. She had wanted to shout "Are you fucking kidding me?" but something stopped her. The feel of another warm body in her bed after so long. There was something comforting about it. And she was part of Dexter now, in his heart. And maybe this was as close as it got for them, so she accepted it. Hannah smelled like expensive lotions, exotic flowers, luxury and escape. "I want us to be friends, Debra" Hannah whispered in the dark, clasping her arm and squeezing it gently. "Good friends." She buried her face in Deb's neck and shortly after, Deb heard the soft, even breathing of sleep.

*

This is how she has him now, tracing trails with her fingertips over soft skin, all the places his hands have touched, rounding over curves of breasts and hips and thigh, lush hills and sloping valleys, imagining. It's not about Hannah, it can't be. She just wants to understand, to feel what he feels. For her part, Hannah doesn't say a word, patient with Deb's explorations, only sighing or a sharp intake of breath, a shiver here and there, as she lies bare and exposed beneath Deb's clumsy fingers.

Until now, it's only been Hannah in control, perfectly manicured fingers plunged deep inside her or deft little tongue bringing her to the edge and leaving her there, Hannah watching her whimper and tremble (but never begging- never that), until finally she pushes her over...and over and over, Deb thrashing and screaming and blinking back tears. This is what she needs- release, catharsis. The only thing that helps her sleep. Only then will Hannah stroke her hair softly, almost maternally, hold her and kiss her sweetly.

"You're thinking about Dexter touching me right now, aren't you?" Hannah says more like a sentence then a question.

Something about this strange switch of roles or the darkness makes Deb honest. "Yeah."

"Does that turn you on?" she asks seriously.

"Fuck-no! God…"

"I think it does," Hannah says softly, guiding Deb's hesitant hand into the slick wetness between her thighs. "You could come with us," she sighs.

"No!" Deb pulls her hand away. "That's not what this is!"

"So what is it then?"

"I just need to get off now and then. Fuck!! Just because you haven't tried to kill me over the past couple of weeks doesn't mean I'm your girlfriend now. Or your friend for that matter."

Hannah sighs. "You're right. It was a foolish thing to suggest. I'm sorry."

They lie in silence for a minute and it is everything Deb can do not to reach out and touch her, run her fingers through her silky hair, kiss her hard and deep and wet, erase this conversation, melt away into her until this...until nothing is real anymore.

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Night Like This (Dexter, Astor/Deb- Deb POV)

Nov. 23rd, 2012 | 03:45 am

The smoke burns your lungs sweetly and you feel an unexpected calm wash over you, reminding you of more innocent, less complicated days you wish you could return to. You almost want to laugh, it's all so ridiculous. Your eyes are closed and her lips are on yours so fast, you have no time to react. you feel yourself responding, kissing back, her fingers tangling in your hair. physical affection you have yearned for, longing for touch you have choked back, like taking a sip of water and suddenly realizing you are parched. The night and the lights and the pot making it all feel like a dream- a good one with soft lips that taste faintly of vanilla and mint pressing into yours.
When you open your eyes, she looks so young and the horror overtakes you. You jolt back to reality, hard crashing against cold cement.She doesn't pull back, just stands there, looming over you, her hand on your shoulder."I like girls," she says finally. Her eyes stare right into yours, challenging, waiting. She shrugs. "Secret's out."It's too much information and your head is full of clouds, heavy smog. "But I'm your…" The irony hits you fast and this time you finally do laugh. It feels good, a release.  Now she backs away, stung. "We're not really related."
"Nothing…it's just…" Is this how strange it sounded to him? Stranger even than inside your own head?
You try to clear your head, greedily gulping up the humid night air. "It's cool that you like girls. I mean, it's not a big deal."
"Yeah, right." She rolls her eyes. "Try explaining that to my grandparents. They found me once… with a friend. They didn't say anything, just acted like it never happened. But now they can't even look at me. They think I'm a total freak."
Everything you can think of to say sounds like some stupid cliche "it gets better" video, although, coming from you that would be fucking hilarious, since you can't imagine that being anyone's experience, no matter who they're into fucking. Your life has definitely gotten progressively worse, year by year.
"Anyway," she continues sullenly, "It's not like it matters. Like I have a girlfriend or anything. The only girl I really like has a boyfriend. She just uses me when she's drunk. And I do everything for her. I tried to protect her from her stepdad before he left. I'm always there when she's upset. I don't understand how none of that can count for anything. Like all that matters is he's hot. Even though he's a total douchebag."
Yes, you know exactly how she feels. So much so hearing her speak it aloud is jarring and almost sets you off crying again. Because you are not sexy. Not like she is. You don't wear little dresses or play at being innocent and girly. Your hair isn't golden and your eyes aren't sky blue and you are not lacy bras and perfume, not manis and pedis and waxed all over. You are just you and you can't compete with that.
"I'm not in love with you or anything like that, don't worry," she says quickly looking at the floor. Oh good. Because you know that would be awkward. "I just really like you, I always have. You're smart and funny and you don't take any shit from anybody. And you looked really beautiful for a second. And sad. I couldn't stop myself. I mean, you always look beautiful though." She doesn't look tough or jaded or cynical anymore. She looks vulnerable. Her face rendered angelic, ivory in moonlight, and she's looking down and you know exactly how this feels so you go to her and hug her tight and you need the embrace as much as she does. And she thinks you are beautiful even on a night like this one.

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hunger games drabble-y.

Apr. 14th, 2012 | 05:51 am
music: "you'll be mine" - pierces (imh)

He is firm, rough hands and hot, whiskey breath, a roller coaster plunge into darkness. His kisses taste like regret, despair, but his fingers push their way inside you, a sweetly throbbing ache, and your heart races and your blood sings.   He isn't gentle, but you didn't expect he would be.  There was warning in his eyes as you let your clothes fall to the floor, offering yourself up like a prize, feeling like a stupid little girl, awkward, embarrassed. His eyes drank you in, lingered on your breasts, your thighs and he sneered and told you to go. But you don't follow orders. 

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please read this!! <3!

Mar. 29th, 2012 | 05:12 pm

http://addictedtotheallureofbeauty.blogspot.com/2012/03/sister-can-you-spare-dollar.html

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All U.S. Internet Providers will be policing downloads by July 12, 2012

Mar. 19th, 2012 | 10:55 pm

Originally posted by eilowyn at All U.S. Internet Providers will be policing downloads by July 12, 2012

(this is an edited version of lk737's post here)

According to this article, dated March 15, 2012:
http://www.digitaltrends.com/webnews/major-isps-turn-into-copyright-police-by-july-says-riaa/

"File-sharers, beware: By July 12, major US Internet service providers (ISPs) will voluntarily begin serving as copyright police for the entertainment industry, according to Cary Sherman, chief executive of the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA). The so-called “six-strikes” plan is said to be one of the most effective anti-piracy efforts ever established in the US."

The article goes on to give details. After six notices, internet providers will decide to throttle a person's internet speed, or cut it off altogether. No more downloading eps of your favorite shows for vidding, gifs, or fanfiction art. No more downloading screencaps possibly.

Fox news confirms this:
http://www.foxnews.com/scitech/2012/03/17/us-isps-become-copyright-cops-starting-july-12/

Youtube video explaining this:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H5OG0R-yS-c

For the record, I'm far more worried about the constant surveillance and the record being kept of everywhere I go online than I am about getting caught taking copy written stuff.

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Writer's Block: Pants on Fire?

Feb. 5th, 2012 | 01:12 am

Is a lie by omission truly a lie?

NO...a lie is defined as a false statement.  But, depending on what you're omitting, it could be a crap thing to do.

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Writer's Block: Happy New Year of the Dragon!

Jan. 23rd, 2012 | 09:33 am

What is your Chinese zodiac animal?


Snake! also my moon cycle totem animal.
Heart reptiles!

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