look at me still talking when there's science to do

rain-spotted geishas
three girls, bubbling up, laughing
wait - no! beautiful boys.


(yes, i really did see three guys dressed as geishas yesterday - no, Tuesday. they were gorgeous. i told them so. <3 i've been trying to work this haiku out of my head since then.)

A lovely, productive month. i approve of it.

fanfic:

new jersey heat a cop AU which i came up with in the spur of the moment and it kind of ran away with me. may well do more with it should the muse decide.

one most immutable more monks!

kanyu amber/kutner fic on the afterlife bus.

body double house/13 porny oneshot. mmm.

eh, maybe dialogue only fic in which wilson is manipulated (or is he? stay tuned for a part two.)

exothermic major character deathfic. but other than that it's pretty good, i have to admit. (hard to talk more about it without giving it away.)

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non-fanfic: (new policy: these stay unlocked for one week after this post and get flocked again. they may not be as popular as my fanfic but they are definitely more saleable and i'm trying to work towards that these days.)

and after short fiction in one hundred words.

fifty words of smut f/f smut in fifty words, duh.

lost in translation m/m smut, original characters.

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poems: (same policy as original works above: these stay unlocked for one week after this post and get flocked again. same reasons.)

farewell, cassandra written for the 'nine things about oracles' project.

graphology about letters and metals and inks and words.

they found her blue-lipped, wide-eyed-wild
raging hot: claimed fever-dreams, her drugs,
skin ravaged purple, a junkie's pox. her words
mean nothing, her body less.

but still
you trace her through the sheet: the arcs
of roman nose and collarbones, the wasted skin
had shadowed honest words. this late Cassandra
sang songs of fear and hunger most forgot.
they sink into your bones, and you will not.


(reconsiders it over ice cream. is pretty good. *submits*)

(edit: written for elisem's 'nine things about oracles'. Artpost is here: original inspiration/jewelry is here.)

sakura lace veil
low clouds, rain, sips of coffee
seattle springtime

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Aleckzandra was tall and thin with a patrician nose and a slight limp: she had a brass-handled cane that tapped its own rhythm imperiously on the tiles. Among the students it was rumored she was a lesbian, and unlike most rumors that circulated around university halls, that happened to be true. Her partner was a welder who looked like a cross between Mae West and Marilyn Monroe, whose Georgia accent trailed warmth and gardenias through the grey New York sky.

---

Nami likes books. I enjoy reading, but am content to do it through the newsfeeds and displays, which are ubiquitous now. Since the invention of paper crystal, news flows over the curving sides of buildings and ripples under your feet as you walk like salmon scales flashing in a running stream. Knowledge is fluid: I feel no need to hold it between hands.

But for Nami, we go to the Old Town where the booksellers hoard their vaults of words. Jimbocho is disconnected from the screens and even among people I feel strangely afloat.

Nami takes my hand, anchors me, and we enter the shop. It smells of ink and paper, glue and yesterdays.

---

Fabian pointed a seaweed-salad-laden chopstick at him. "You need to get laid."

"That's your solution to everything." Anthony replied tartly. "Sex. Some people want more from a relationship than just the mutual exchange of sweat."

"Sex and food. And television, and extreme sports, and art. I like to think of life as a kind of smorgasboard of pleasures."

"You like to think of life as an all-you-can-eat buffet, you pig."

"I had a boyfriend once - we fucked at an all-you-can-eat-buffet."

"I'm sure you came up with some great uses for salad dressing."

"Well, actually - "

"You know what? I don't care."