Characters: Kakashi/Iruka, random guest appearances
Warning: Workplace AU
Summary: Allow me to define the word "office-mate" for you: it's a noun. Not a verb.
5317 words and the death of mathematics.
( He left formulae scribbles on the memos that he inconsiderately littered Iruka's neat-as-a-pin desk with, his integral signs curved into the beautiful arch of a musical clef. For a man who's knowledge of the financial system was encyclopaedic, his office was unusually bare of references: only bits of literature or prosaic mathematics books chucked here and there, alongside a porn collection that Iruka had discovered and screamed mentally at and then hid under a hundred layers of paperwork. )
Doing It ANBU
Characters: Sai, Kakashi; Yamato, Sasuke, cast
Warning: AU futurefic.
Summary: Rehabilitating Sasuke was supposed to be easier than fighting a war.
7974 words and, mm, but canon is delicious for breakfast.
( Three months, sixteen missions, and an uncountable number of attempts on his sanity after taking on ANBU captaincy, Sai was beginning to understand where Yamato-taicho's creepy eyes originated from: let Kakashi-senpai take you at unawares too often and, eventually, your face began to stick that way. )
Written for au_bingo prompt Other: Mundane. Or, the Fic In Which Terry Does Not Actually Stumble Upon The Cave. Also the Fic In Which Terry Thinks Weird Thoughts About Women, Men, Workplace Attire and Everything.
Fandom: Batman Beyond
Characters: Terry, Bruce
Summary: There are, theoretically, other ways to fight crime than in cape and cowl.
4078 words (COUNT THEM!!) and too much Terry-brain-splody for one night.
( 'Don't walk,' Bruce says to Terry's back, watching him wade out amongst the sharks. 'Strut.' )
J & M
Fandom: Historical fiction: 1800s Hong Kong, Jardine-Matheson &c.
Characters: Jardine, Matheson, cameos by a bunch of other historical figures
Correspondence between the Estimable Mssrs. James Matheson and William Jardine, now and later of the Jardine Matheson Corporation in Hong Kong, detailing in personal colours the trials and tribulations that accompany the establishment of such a Shipping Company in such a time when Her Majesty's interests are both Colonial and Economic and Diplomatic.
1066 words and a lot of banter!
( Dear James, am in England, please do not do anything too rash that may make us too rich in the next few months -- )
~900 words. Tseng/Rufus/Balthier. Very soft R.
( Tseng doesn't offer any explanation when Rufus looks at him in askance. 'I'm sorry we're late,' he says instead. )
THEN SOMEHOW, TENTACLES GOT MENTIONED. Mayhap it is because shoe-kink still is unfathomable to Nyx, she instead jumps forward towards tentacles:
(12:13:58 AM) nyx: b/t/r, TENTACLE SEX
(12:14:00 AM) K: OKAY
(12:14:02 AM) K: YOU ARE ON
(12:14:11 AM) K: I WILL TENTACLE SEX THOSE THREE
(12:14:16 AM) nyx: NO NONO
(12:14:23 AM) K: WHAT IS THAT YOU ARE SAYING
(12:14:24 AM) K: YES YES YES?
(12:14:25 AM) nyx: THOSE THREE SEX THE TENTACLES
(12:14:44 AM) K: RUFUS DARING BALTHIER OR VICE VERSA
(12:14:45 AM) nyx: YES
(12:14:52 AM) K: SUCKERS
(12:14:53 AM) nyx: YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
Now that I have ascertained that this is NOT MY FAULT, I am here to enable. Here we go, tentacle porn. Or, uh, the closest I could get to it, anyway. NOT BRAIN SAFE. NOT HEAD SAFE. It's almost work safe. BUT IT HAS TENTACLES. FOR nasdack VERSE. If that doesn't warn you, NOTHING WILL!
 NOW KNOWN AS:
SQUID PRO QUO
Warnings for squick! ~900 words. R. Tseng, Rufus, Balthier/DRUG PRODUCING TENTACLE MONSTER.
( Crack, tentacles, and, uh, yeah. Crack and tentacles. )
[]I think it is fair warning to direct readers to the copy of this post on nasdack, where, in the comments, Nyx illustrates how she is 2000 times crazier than I am.
I solemnly swear to write Bruce AU sort of fic in which he turns into a pauper or something.
I solemnly swear to make Terry suffer. Again. More. A lot.
I solemnly swear to write Tseng/Veld.
I solemnly, solemnly swear to write Tseng/random guy just mindlessly screwing each others' brains out for nasdack.
I solemnly swear to write Genesis and Veld fucking shit up. Over something.
I solemnly swear to write Rufus getting bitched out by Reeve and then re-bitching him back. If that's grammatically possible.
I solemnly swear to write a bizarre short AU piece in which everyone is an angel and Lucifer's really angry all the time, like that isn't already status quo.
I solemnly swear that I am solemnly apologising for solemnly and swearishly spamming your flists.
I solemnly swear to find ways to cook good food from ether while I do this tomorrow on my break, because on Friday oh god on Friday ahahah Friday.
I solemnly swear that what I need is a "SCREAMING WITH MY HEAD LOPPED OFF" icon.
SO, WHO'S GOING TO KICK MY ASS TO GET ME TO WRITE WHICH OF THOSE FIRST BEFORE I FREAK OUT AND LOSE MY MIND? *BEAMS*
HELP, HELP, SANITY SEEMS A STRANGE FOREIGN THING
LEGS. They ache, from not being able to run (weather) and walking too much (work) and sitting down too much (work) and walking the same damned area (work). LEGS.
TIRED. The feeling that one gets when one wants to write fic (so much fic) and yet cannot keep one's eyes open long enough to do so. TIRED.
TASTY. Hazelnut coffee. TASTY.
BEAUTIFUL. The Tseng sketch that appeared in my room. Insanely BEAUTIFUL.
BED. The place I long to be. BED.
FULL OF NOTHING. -- the bizarre meme for Valentine's that's going around, is. I'll do yours if you do mine, wink wink nudge nudge. February is the SEASON FOR LOVE, because the holiday makes me want to alternately laugh and beat things up. The cards that are going on sale are *__________* FULL OF NOTHING.
BRAINS. Something that I do not have. BRAINS.
POST OFFICES. Something that I wish we had more of. POST OFFICES.
MONEY. Something I wish I had an unlimited supply of. MONEY.
DEATH. What beckons. DEATH.
OUTRAGEOUS. The sudden urge to rewind 24802984 years of my life, since the unbearable urge to write Tezuka/Fuji PRINCE OF TENNIS fic has suddenly exploded in my mind. OUTRAGEOUS.
DAUNTING. The prospect of finishing my last-ish rahmbamarama fic. It feels bigger than my head is right now. DAUNTING.
DIARRHOEA. What I have, verbally, at this point in my Sliding Scale of Squinty Fail. DIARRHOEA.
Signal to Noise
Fandom: FFXII/FFVII (Stockmarket AU)
Rating: Hard R
Summary: Rufus, in Chicago.
1176 words and, uh, phonesex. Kinda. Sorta. Almost.
( Something in the air changes, as though Tseng can tell. )
dnatio_memoriae generously donated her art skillz for a couple of these, and may be contributing more in the morning! IS THE WORLD NOT A BEAUTIFUL PLACE. OH YES, IT IS. ♥
( numinicious - Lucifer (Lucifer, postcard) )
( dnatio_memoriae: Baccano! (Luck, Claire, writing on the wall) )
( white_jenna: Final Fantasy VII (Tseng, cocktail napkin) )
( muse_lightning: nasdack FFVII AU (Tseng, Elena, post-its) )
( knightlineninja: Cowboy Bebop (Spike, short letter) )
( voksen: Baccano! (Czes, longhand letter) )
( logistika_nyx: nasdack AU (Elena/Tseng: he's full of wishful thinking) )
( misura: nasdack AU (Dark Nation, Rufus) )
If you feel you have been deprived a present, feel free to dump a prompt of any sort on me! After all, Chinese New Year (ha! coming from me, least traditional of people!) lasts a good long while, technically! :D Right now I am going to lean back in my seat and let my eyes explode for a while. ♥
- Eaten any lunch
- Printed out that spreadsheet
- Visited that neighbour
But I have:
- Participated in #yulechat inspired madness which will hopefully come to (NOT HOPEFULLY, I'M SORRY - DEFINITELY) life in July. Oh god.
- Done absolutely nothing else.
I am going to:
- Die of exhaustion by the end of tonight
- Pretend that I didn't sign up for a fucking government meeting on Tuesday
- Do the above, just one more time for great justice
- Get that charity work done before the charity work does me
In the meantime I am:
- Desperately tired
- Desperately high
- But still desperately tired
And I want to:
- Catch up with my real life, which is getting un-caught-up with
- Hug a thousand people
- Sleep all day
- Code all night
But I will settle for:
- Screaming quietly
TSENG. DRAWN. PAINTED. WITH RUFUS. BY dnatio_memoriae. IF YOU DO NOT LOSE AT LEAST A FEW BRAINCELLS LOOKING AT THE SHEER HOTNESS OF HIS SUIT AND RUFUS IN A TIE, YOU ARE OBVIOUSLY BLIND AND MUST LOOK CLOSER FROM THE BOTTOM OF YOUR SOUL.
ajflka fjlas fjlkas fljs kfja slkjf as *lick* *lick* *LICK*
Plus, it comes over and on top of other awesome things this week:
- Getting a POSTCARD from Columbia. What the fuck, university, you're months away and already you are beautiful.
- Getting a letter from Columbia, which - as copy/pasted as I'm sure it is - is still so damned shiny, because, my god, it's like, this adult woman telling me she loves me and that she spoke for me during the admissions panel, and then she signs off in real pen, even managing to almost misspell "New York". I am in so much love it's crazy.
- It turns out that the best friend is, actually, alive! Tired sounding, but alive! My heart is more at peace than it has been in a while upon hearing that.
- Getting friended by yuletide people is like getting people-shaped presents in my inbox.
- Writing an insane number of fics for yuletide apparently generates an insane amount of feedback; this is something I can live with.
- Hopefully we will be upgrading to better internets soon! Faster surfing. I like muchly.
 Omg. It is five minutes later and I am still looking at the pretty. The shoes. THE SHOES. And Tseng's VEST. And my god the creases, they look so real, I want to touch them. And then make them... creas-ier.
I seriously have been so fucking gifted with amazing friends and crazymadawesome fellow fandom people. Yuletide's an important season for this journal, since (looking back) I realise that my first venture into fic and fandom et al s'dated almost exactly a year ago from now. *g* I'd never have imagined that I'd meet so many insanely talented and beautiful human beings. Thank you, flist, for being who and what you all are. I LOVE YOU, and am so lucky to be blessed to know you.
what feels like five billion hours later: 8 yuletides! 50000 chat! quote-of-the-day:
Madness means never having to say you're sorry for the duck pricking. (mikeneko) Fade to quack.
okay going off to die in bed so that i can sleep through sermon-that-i-don't-want-to-go-for. happy times, everyone, and may your presents be material!
Pundits/Rahm, again. Follows up from this crazy thing.
All's Fair in War and, Well. Mostly Just War
Fandom: Pundits and fakepolitics
Characters: Rahm and Anderson, with Stephen and Jon.
Summary: Anderson really wants his friends to just get along. It's all right; Rahm will make that (censored) happen.
2192 words, and please someone shoot me in the head, it would be a mercykilling.
( 'You got a chance to send him a Christmas gift and you didn't send him anthrax?' )
So, most of the stuff on nasdack is pretty serious stuff. Well, sometimes. Big long fic. More than 500 words. Hard to read when you just want a short, sharp dose of feel-good.
That, and more, at the downjones.
The concept: happy hilarity. Not
In truth: if Reno had a blog. That's all I'm saying.
For your convenience: there's an rss lj feed that you can friend: downingjones.
In conclusion: going to hell now, and bed.