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Mine: Sowing

Title: Sowing
Rating: PG 
Word Count: 575
Warnings: less than cheerful, vague violence
Summary: Once upon a time, a Nightmare walked the Earth.
A/N: For iron_fist123 because she's my best friend and I love telling her stories when she asks me to.


SowingCollapse )

Fic: Every. Two. Hours.

Title: Every. Two. Hours.
Author: vinvy
Rating: G
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Word Count: ~ 630
SummaryBy the fourth night of the Endlessly Displeased Baby, Dean at least was beginning to think Hope was already self-aware and that she hated their guts. 
Warnings: Domestic smoosh of the smooshiest degree. You have been warned.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any affiliated characters. If I did this would be on the show. Duh. Now go read my fic.
A/N: Written for iron_fist123 in AIM while I was waiting for my eardrops to settle. The antibiotics must have struck the inspiration-lobe in my noodle or something.



Good God why was there no peace in their house?Collapse )

Reverse Big Bang: Lightning in the Blood


Title: Lightning in the Blood
Mix: #23 (of the same title) bydear_monday
Author: vinvy
Bands: My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco (ish)
Pairings: past Mikey/Pete, a hint of Gerard/Lindsey

Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~ 6,300
Warnings: questionable company, allusions to physical abuse, alcohol abuse, lots of awesome music
Disclaimer: As real as a seven dollar bill.
Summary: The Cabaret is a playground for souls. Let them do their battles elsewhere.
A/N: Written for Bandom Reverse Big Bang 2012. This is the fic that almost wasn't but the mods are wonderful and gave me some great encouragement. Thanks to juloreanand iron_fist123 for sticking around while this bounced about in my skull these last few months. They helped keep me going.


Rivolta SilenziosaCollapse )

Fic: Look at What You've Done

Title: Look at What You've Done
Author: vinvy
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Pairing: Gabe/Pete
Word Count: ~ 975
Summary“This is bullshit, man. I didn’t come by here to help you write so you could mope in the corner all day.”
Warnings: profanity, spray paint, a little bit of angst, shameless fluff
Disclaimer: If you have found this by searching anything for yourself or one of your friends GO BACK RIGHT THE FUCK NOW. Also this never happened and I don't do these things for profit. Duh.
A/N: Written for iron_fist123 for the prompt "Pete, eyeliner, and a notebook" because she knows just what to feed my brain. The first in our Gravity!verse. There is totally more to come, okay?


Too-sdaysCollapse )


There's This Girl

I'm going to tell you all about her over here because this is the only place that isn't seen by anyone who goes to my college. (Why, oh why did I add K on tumblr? I love her but my last haven of secrecy is gone- all anyone has to do to find my LJ is use my twitter handle. God, I am an idiot.)

Here goes nothing.

Last week she cut her hair. It really shouldn't matter like it does but, you see, I'd just gotten to the point where I could safely look at her and not want to avert my gaze for fear of being caught looking. I was on the verge of that 'just friends' feeling. Somehow, this haircut changes all of that- or maybe I never wanted my feeling to change to begin with? It isn't as if I want them to go away entirely because they feel absolutely beautiful, if a little melancholy.

(Let it be known that she knows. Oh, how she knows, even though she may have forgotten or brushed it aside. She claimed not to like long distance relationships but she's recently acquired a boyfriend who lives in Canada. I don't mind the boyfriend- they're happy together and it's grossly cute. I mind being lied to. Holy fuck, if you learn nothing else about me, learn this and remember it: never lie to me. It is wrong. I will not trust her now thanks to that.)

Back to the hair.

It's short in back now  with barely-bangs and with a little off of the sides it could be a fauxhawk with leftovers of last month's bleach making it reddish at the tips. I don't know how to say it with proper words, but that does things to me. It doesn't help that she's got pseudo-military posture (thank you, NJROTC, thank you so very much) and gives really good hugs. All of this setback because of her bloody hair.

I really want to touch her hair. Run my hands through it, maybe pull without hurting- just to see what kind of reaction I'd get. I want to hold her hand because she radiates heat, okay? She's a human space heater and it's as wonderful as it is odd. I want to do these things without feeling uncomfortable about with. Without her knowing just how much it makes me think (which is to the point when my brain shorts out) when I spend too much time looking at her. Sometimes I wonder if she can see my eyes dilate because I'm pretty sure I can feel it. Then, if she does pay that much attention, is she watching because it is genuinely interesting to her or because it's just a fun game to watch me squirm like some pinned insect?

This is a little ridiculous. I waste these feelings on people who don't appreciate them.

On Empathy, Grief, and Abuse

Grief and Abuse are so entirely unique that once you've experienced them you never, ever forget them. Watching someone else feel them is incredible because that level of empathy is rare. So painfully rare.

Every shaky breath or twitch of a muscle is familiar. Every thread of conversation, every subject change. Every awkward silence that leaves you thinking, "I know" not because you've heard it before but because you've felt it before and you know there isn't anything that you can do about it. You know what it's like to wait and hold yourself together day by day. That need to organize and clean and move and adjust everything so you don't have to think.

You reach out with unsure hands because you remember wanting someone to hold you but having no idea how to begin to ask for it. You press gently the offer of a new home in hopes that they won't be too terrified to take the out you give them when it comes time for them to need it because you remember the horror of needing to leave to survive but having absolutely nowhere to go.

The fear of dying in a cage.

The fear of the dead and gone.

It makes your fingers tremble and twitch and you want to open up your rib cage and tuck whoever's hurting away inside the bones, right between your lungs and a little behind, to the left of your spine so your heartbeat can keep them company. So that they are safe and warm at night. So that they can skip to the end and not have to go through the process of hurting in order to heal. So you can spare them everything you have gone through because, damn it, one person should be enough. One person should satisfy Grief and Abuse, assuage them so will leave your friends out of their fray. You've already done this- they shouldn't have to.

Sadly, one is never enough and so you're stuck with all that empathy, trying to catch blood in a sieve. 


Doctor Who Meme (Huzzah)

Your job is now your Time Lord name. The last digit of your phone number is the current regeneration you are in. The nearest clothing item to your right is now the most notable item in your current wardrobe. The last person you texted is your current companion. Your favorite word is now your catchphrase.

(Got it from dsudis)



Name: The Student (Oh lord, that sounds so tragic.)
Regeneration: 4
Notable Clothing: highwayman's coat
Companion: julorean(Ready to go, Jules?)
Catchphrase: Huzzah

I Sing the Body Electric

Yeah, there's an overused Walt Whitman reference as the title. Too bad, folks- 't is already done.

Sometimes I forget that I'm human.

Meaning: not only do I forget what I look like but my gender slips my mind, as does the fact that I am not actually a floating mind but I am a mind within flesh and muscle and bone. I'll look in the mirror or put on a dress or some part of me will start hurting and then I will be reminded of my physical form. I'm not a creature of thought- I have a body that is classified as human by other humans.

It isn't that I want to look some other way, be another gender, or be something inhuman (with the exception of jokes about being a robot). My body looks alright by my standards and I think I'd feel the same about being a man as I do a woman (which is to say, "Whatever, it's what I am") and being human is awesome because it means that I have the capacity to think about these sorts of things and articulate them! ... Nevertheless I still forget what I am from time to time, only to be pleasantly surprised when I remember it. (Again, I'm on good terms with my body- however they don't seem to be good enough that they're at the top of my mind...)

I've been doing a little bit of thinking about why this is, and the answer is freakishly easy and so I don't want to believe it's true: I forget that I'm human because I simply spend less time focused on the reality of myself than I do on the reality of others and things which are immaterial. I don't pay attention to myself. End of discussion. 

Can it really be that simple? I want feedback because this feels very strange indeed.


Tags:

Seriously. We're talking kiss-kiss bang-bang here. BLI and George Orwell and V for Vandetta kinds of things. The government is considering passing laws which will censor the internet and potentially do away with sites like LJ, tumblr, facebook, and more. 

Do you know what that means?
No more witty rambles.
No more fic.
No more new opinions. 
No more new people at the click of a button.

http://americancensorship.org/

http://americancensorship.org/

http://americancensorship.org/

http://americancensorship.org/


What are you people waiting for? Click the link and at least try to get something done about this. Please!


ATTENTION ALL READERS



Hey, do you guys remember when I did Bandom Big Bang? Way back in September? And I wrote Parks and Recreation?

No, I'm not just here to whore out my own fic. (Though if you went to go read it and comment I would be so, so grateful, okay?)

As it turns out, the lovely juloreanwent and comment!fic'd a companion to Parks and Rec. Then, with some tweaking, it turned into this: Set a Fox to Catch a Fox. It's adorable and a quick read- a nice jaunt to tie up some things with Brendon and his nasty werefox problem. Go read it. You'll giggle.

Has She Lost Her Mind?

Alas, no, she has not. Not yet, anyway.

Nay, 't is not maddness but plague and the looming bandomreversebb. Yes, that's right, she's writing for it.

... You wouldn't believe how awesome the everything is at this place! Like, there aren't words for it, I am so excited. Overwhelmed and sick, too, but also excited in my own, phlegmy way. I'll keep y'all posted on how this goes!
I have a computer!!

That's right, folks, now y'all can talk at me all the time and timely replies are pretty likely to happen. 
So, do you have any requests? My fic-brain needs prodding to get it back up to speed after all of this school business.

Love and muffins,

Rae

Tags:

Now THIS One is a Call to Arms

Yup, I honestly need your help this time, duckies.

How do you feel about standardized testing?
Any Strong Feelings?
What about horror stories?
 

If you do, please give them to me in the comments, preferably along with some sort of name (I don't care if it's a pseudonym- we're all anonymous here) because it's for a research paper I have to turn in on Thursday. Please and thank you my beloved Friends!

-Rae

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