Streets are filled with --

Hello!

Out of nowhere, Saific! My fingers also now hurt, and I can barely close my eyes for caffeination.

Doing It ANBU

Fandom: Naruto
Rating: PG
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. )

The Jardine Matheson Corporation - to summarise: Hong Kong, the early-to-mid 1800s. Shipping company! Smuggling opium into China for Great Profit! Being otherwise a very legitimate shipping company that seeks Independence and Liberty from the East India Company's monopoly over trade in the region! Politics! Letters sent over the course of the Opium War! It's exciting and I promise I'll make it even more unbelievably insane, even though it's hard to compete with a reality that involves Captains of ships almost starting international accidents, Owners of Companies who have glibber tongues and stunning eloquence and skulls that CAN WITHSTAND BEING BELTED IN BY CLUBS, late British colonialism that is oddly both reluctant and ridiculously effective at the same time, and two good friends who come from completely separate backgrounds taking over a new economic world. HAVE I PIMPED HARD ENOUGH? And in between there is everything about Hong Kong that I have ever wanted to research and spend time appreciating and combing through that I now will! /o/ \o\

J & M

Fandom: Historical fiction: 1800s Hong Kong, Jardine-Matheson &c.
Rating: PG
Characters: Jardine, Matheson, cameos by a bunch of other historical figures
Summary:

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. Mssr. Matheson, having been blessed with good birthing and more than respectable living circumstances, must be excused for his eloquence. Mssr. Jardine, having been blessed by hard living and leanness, but be excused for his frightening ability.

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 -- )

I solemnly swear to write Batman fic.

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*

I WAS RANDOMLY SURFING GOOGLE AND OH MY GOD AHAHA rahmbamarama PEOPLE, LOOK AT THIS, THERE ARE PEOPLE TALKING ABOUT MY RAHM/ANDERSON FICS IN CHINESE I KEEP READING THEM AND GIGGLING OH MY GOD I HAVE A MEETING IN AN HOUR AND WHAT THE FUCK AND THIS IS BIZARRE AND I KNEW I SHOULD NOT HAVE SLEPT AT THREE IN THE MORNING

HELP, HELP, SANITY SEEMS A STRANGE FOREIGN THING

WORK. Think of the largest, toothiest, most evil monster that you can, then add warts and pimples and exploding sacs of pus and then multiply it by a factor of fifteen, and maybe you might approximate the hell that is WORK. 'nuff said.

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.

[edit]

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.

So, who's the crazy person who has decided to give as many people on the flist a present as she can? I AM! *BEAMS* In the spirit of the new year and attempting to kick my ass back into action. I've taken what prompts you guys have given me over the last however-many-times-I-decided-to-click-previous-entries, and have spun what I can. Happy new year! ♥ from this side of the universe.

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. ♥

I DO NOT KNOW WHY THE UNIVERSE LIKES ME SO MUCH RIGHT NOW, BECAUSE TODAY HAS BEEN INCREDIBLE.

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:

1. Getting a POSTCARD from Columbia. What the fuck, university, you're months away and already you are beautiful.
   
2. 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.
   
3. 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.
   
4. Getting friended by yuletide people is like getting people-shaped presents in my inbox.
   
5. Writing an insane number of fics for yuletide apparently generates an insane amount of feedback; this is something I can live with.
   
6. Hopefully we will be upgrading to better internets soon! Faster surfing. I like muchly.

[edit] 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.

Somehow, I just keep sending myself to hell over and over and over again. It's like some terminal illness inspired by evercourant. SOMEBODY PLEASE STOP ME. Disclaimer again: I DON'T KNOW THEM. I DON'T - OH GOD - WANT TO DO ANYTHING TO THEM. PLEASE DON'T HURT ME. THIS IS ALL FICTION. I PLEAD INSANITY.

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.
Rating: PG13.
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?' )

I'm probably going to regret this when I wake up tomorrow. Today. Something:

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.

Well.



That, and more, at the downjones.

The concept: happy hilarity. Not always ever serious. Sometimes you get real bits of finance, thrown in when K is feeling particularly delirious. Or Nyx doing some magic with the characters.

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.