Arashi!

For crazychickencow.

Sort of a Mafia AU? I don't know, just go with it. Cut text by My Chemical Romance, inspiration by Batman: Gotham Knight. No I don't understand it either.Also, for something that was supposed to be a drabble, it got sort of out of hand. FAIL

( I won't go down with myself but i'll go down with my friends )

The City Lights, They Shine But Not Half As Brightly As You

Arashi, Ohmiya
951 words
For crazychickencow, who flailed at me one night AGES AGO and told - ORDERED me to write her fic and I said 'ok'

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Arashi once again. Unfinished verse

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Call me crazy but they are after us (you don't have to know the truth)

Arashi again, for waxrose

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The sweat pours of every single one of them but after nearly a decade of performing and interviews, it's nothing they aren't used to. Although this is hardly their normal setting. They're watching a band perform. Or at least they were until Aiba produced a number of DayGlo sticks and bracelets from...somewhere. Nobody questioned where from because that would have meant looking at Aiba's outfit which was practically non-existant and the part of it that did exist did not leave a lot to the imagination. Not that any of them minded. Jun had muttered something as they had their hands stamped about how Aiba always looked best with as few clothes as possible and the blush that had spread over first Sho, then Ohno's cheeks told him how much they agreed.

The music was loud and pulsed through them - the frantic drums sinking into their bones and the bass rumbling into their veins, twining with the operatic vocals that caused Ohno to stand and stare in awe that seared up their arteries and coursed through their brain until they felt like they were part of the music and could not separate where the music ended and their flesh began. But it didn't matter - distinctions blurred until Nino couldn't tell whether the heavy heartbeats he heard were his or Sho's and Sho could feel nothing except the glide of flesh against his own and they were like an ocean moving and pulsing together, surging like a sea of lights and neon glows and the constant pull-and-give of each other that was fluid because they knew each other - they were together like droplets of water forming a raincloud and as powerful as a storm in the middle of the ocean and eternal like the sky.

and tells me to sing and I sing and I sing

Little snippets of Arashi fic

He has this dream that wakes him, Aiba's face leaning over his and an expression he's never seen on his face; an unsettling mix of his "ne, MatsuJun, are you really mad at me?", "this week's animal didn't like me/bit me/caused me to sneeze uncontrollably", "the experiment failed" and the extremely rare "i'm so tired i don't even have the energy to flirt anymore". If it were anyone other than Aiba, Jun would have called it a heartbroken look. His hands feel too heavy as he tries to brush the look away with his fingertips, he arches to lick the melancholic twist from his lips and Aiba laughs into his mouth. "Will you know you've been deceived?" He whispers, cupping Jun's cheek and he bolts awake.

I have no clue where I am going with that

( so many things to say with a broken heart and a straight face )

Death Note, never betry the way you've always known it is

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Three-in-one post. Part of a meme where I got given a title for a story and a fandom and I had to explain what that story would be about and write a snippet. Here follows for Good Omens, Final Waltz, Arashi and Gundam Wing.

( The Secret Garden, Final Waltz )

( Unorthodox Methods, Good Omens )

( A Hard Day's Night, Arashi )

( the )

Full Metal Alchemist drabble

"Brother, are you sure you should be doing this? I mean, the Colonel--"
Ed dismissed Al's worry with a flick of his wrist, an unconcerned gesture,
"Of course Al - what harm could it do?"

And, hearing no more of his protests, Ed logged on. The first hour, obviously, he researched alchemy, the second hour? The philosopher's stone (although, disappointingly, most of that searching only lead to a young boy wizard and some scarily obsessed people), then the third hour he looked for homonculi. This is where it began to get interesting for, after reading some vaguely interesting information on a place called Wikipedia, one link directed him to the Ed Elric Shrine.

Vanity trips us all up - however thing's got strange. He clicked on the link marked "fic" our of curiosity and then opened the first link that looked appealing. This all sounds particularly normal, doesn't it?

Only, Ed realised, as he read the opening line of, "Oh God Colonel, harder ahhhh - please!", that maybe this wasn't exactly related to his line of enquiry.

"WHAT THE HELL?!?!?" rang his outrage through the building, yet our young hero couldn't seem to tear his eyes away so he finished the offending article and clicked on the next link.

Six hours later and an extended bathroom break later, Ed stumbled out into the hallway only to find Riza leaning against the wall, waiting for him.

"The Colonel wants to see you, Ed."

"Tell the Colonel to kiss my ass," came the automatic reply before Ed stopped and looked up at Hawkeye as they walked in the general direction of the office.

"Did he say what he wanted?"

Riza blinked in shock but prided herself on the fact that she recovered quickly,
"He wants a report on what you learnt from the 'internet'."

Ed laughed and tugged his hairband out as they reached the Colonel's door.

"Oh, I've got quite a few things to teach him," he laughed, shucking off his jacked as he entered the room.

Final Waltz drabble from forever(never) ago. hahahaha, most fitting song ever!

Oh Lightning Strike Twice

The city lights vanish behind you and you can smell the life clinging to your fur and ha ha ha, you wish you could have seen the look on the Angst Boy's face when he saw poor Lilly's heart laid bare - but then again, and you laugh as you think this, hadn't he seen that already?

Energy sings through your veins and your muscles revel in the joy of movement as you leap acorss a gap in the rooftops - you take pride in the fact you make no sound as you land but - fuck - the buzzing in you increases now and your fur stands on end and - oh, she found you then.

But you enjoy this thrill - the knowledge of the hunt, even if you usually are on the other side so your claws retract and sneaker-clad feet now replace the pads of your paws and you keep running, adjusting to the familiar ache of restriction and laughing.

And your lungs burn and your mucles ache and all you can smell is the jungle and that cute little maid girl and the lights of Mrey scorch in the distance and the anger of a Goddess rumbles in the very marrow of your bones. You grin and cry out,
"You saw my little present, then? Did you like it?", slid around a mock chimney - goddamn it Mrey, some people just can't let go of the past now can they? -, "if you don't, bad luck - can't do much!", throw yourself across a gulf, "lost the receipt, you see!"

She snaps then and a whip of lightning cracks around your face, lashing above your eye and you snarl, pushing out in the Core which only causes her to laugh.

You're fucked and you know it so you sink down, drowning in air and blood gushes over your eye and cheek like rain. A break in the pressure and she's there in front of you, hair crackling around her with the remnants of the lightning and she's wearing a smile that Sal'd be proud of. Her eyes cloud with the promise of retribution and you see yourself at the centre - the eye of that storm, and you huff out a laugh. It's weird being on the other side of the cat-mouse game but -damn- if seeing her looking at you like that doesn't make it all worth it.

Her coat ripples in the breeze as she stalks towards you - your grin grows and you taste the tang of your life and Cerios's and Lily - your blood pounds in your ears and you feel alive in her piercing gaze. You draw a knee up to your chest and sling a casual arm over it, slumping against the wall a little more. Blink the blood from your view until all you see is her and, fuck, you're going to enjoy this.

With your most winning smile (and that's pretty fucking winning), you call,
"Oh lightning strike twice~"

The Light The Day Can Never See

A story I wrote for [Bad username: kabeyk"] ages ago and never finished :( still like the little bits I did write though.

[Unknown LJ tag]

Pushed away on principle

The dare, in itself, was quite a simple one – at least in Marauder reckoning. Sneak into Filch’s room and steal some of the hundreds of Dungbombs he had confiscated from the student masses of Hogwarts. The twist – at least in Sirius’s hazy, drunken eyes – was to make Remus go and do the dare. The prefect had balked in his typical way – as Sirius knew he would – and Sirius had leaned over the almost-forgotten bottle of Firewhiskey and whispered the forfeit if Loony Lupin didn’t complete the dare. Peter and James had laughed – leaning against each other for comfort and also the support, holding their sides and snorting with laughter.

Remus paled and agreed to do the dare as long as he got the Invisibility Cloak. James had agreed and volunteered to make sure he completed the dare. Sirius laughed heartily, waved the hand that wasn’t possessively clutching a bottle of Firewhiskey magnanimously and nodded, as words had failed him in his drunken stupor.

After long, long moments of trying to find the Cloak and trying to get James to stand up right, they were ready. Sirius lay grinning and spread-eagled on the Common Room floor giving them a pathetic wave goodbye and Peter just laughed again. Remus muttered darkly – some foreign quote about winged vengeance overtaking them as they set off in what Remus deemed a brisk walk and what James moaned was a run.



“Fuck it Remus – Filch!” James whispered desperately, grabbing the other boy by the nearest body part as he bolted away from the door (a soft squawk of protest muffled by hands) and skidding into the corner, pressing Remus flush against the wall and throwing the Invisibility cloak over them as he did.

Filch and Mrs. Norris slunk in only seconds later, Mrs. Norris yowling and shooting dirty looks at their corner and Filch threw unidentifiable belongings into his cupboard. He spun around quickly, squinting around his room as he thought he heard moans but decided Peeves was just trying to rattle him. He tickled the cat under her ear and chuckled.

“Thought they could get away from us, didn’t they, my pet? That’s three more for detention in the dungeon tomorrow!” He cackled gleefully, gathering the cat up in his greasy arms and sweeping out again – practically skipping at his prospect of the student’s punishment.



All of this went unnoticed by the two in the corner because, as Filch had returned, James’s focus was on the fact that Remus was getting hard against his hip. Very slowly twisting away from the door and cocking his head, James grinned and winked at Remus who wouldn’t meet his eyes as he fearlessly discovered at least six new shades of crimson and mauve.

“Liked being watched Moony?”

Remus moaned – a sound tinged with desire and embarrassment and fear – trying to wriggle away from James, clawing slightly at the arms around his waist and neck keeping him pressed flush against James. A twist of the hips as a last ditch attempt didn’t quite go to plan as he felt himself rub against James. Remus stopped instantly – like a deer caught in headlights (and the irony of that statement wasn’t lost on him) as his brain caught up with his body. James. James was hard.

“Mmmmmm Moony,” sighed the hot breath in his ear as the door slammed shut with Filch’s departure. “Liked that?”

“…Fuck off James, this isn’t funny.”

“Who said anything,” and oh balls was that really James’ tongue licking along the shell of his ear and turning his knees to jelly as if he had been hexed and, oh fuck, fuck fuck, please, “about me being joking?” Remus moaned again and wound his arms around James, just lightly crooking his fingers and digging the tips in. The tongue attached to James (for surely, Remus thought, James’s tongue had been cursed or charmed to do such things and make him a large wall-pressed shape of a Remus) began tracing the line of his jaw and then flicked up the scars marring his cheek.

“More,” Remus moaned, drifting his fingers down to the base of James back and dancing over the cloth-covered vertebrae like little kisses. James gasped, jerking his hips into Remus, pressing his cock against his leg, seeking friction. There was an answering gasp as Remus buried his head against James’s bony shoulder and thrust back. Something his head was whispering – something about…

James kissed him – a gentle, shy kiss against his lower lip and looked down, blinking rapidly, bright brown eyes shining – seeking Remus’s approval. There was a nod and James leant in again, mimicking his first kiss almost exactly. Sensing his lack of knowledge, Remus cupped his chin and forced James to meet his eyes as he arched up slightly and flicked his tongue against the lower lip before pressing several chaste kisses to the corners. James caught his lips and trailed over them lazily – his mouth tasting of cornflakes and Firewhiskey from the last dare – as fingers rubbed against the bulge in Remus’s threadbare flannel pjs. Remus gasped, and arched into the touch as James’ tongue suckled on the hollow of his neck and he cried out,

“Lily!”

“Not quite,” James muttered, then “…What?” Remus was intensely aware of James’s fingers lingering over his cock, tracing the length up and down as glassy unfocused eyes burned.

“We can’t – oh – ah ah! – James, James – Lil – Lily.”

There was a pause – fingers slowing – and James stepped back. He shivered from the loss of the heat – and kissed James who shook his head, lips then brushing at his jaw.

“You’re right – you’re right. Sorry Moony.”

By the time Remus had the words ready to answer, James was gone and there was a heavy ache beginning to settle in his chest.



This is just one of those lonely nights

“Sometimes you know – the sound is deafening…y’know? Like so tight it feels I’m going to explode. That’s why.”

Peter nodded to Sirius’s words. Even thought they were utter drunken bollocks, Peter could see what he was trying to get at. He felt it was a skill, understanding what Sirius was talking about. Even thought he was perhaps the best-looking boy in school (he could admit that freely, even without the alcohol – Sirius was an attractive bloke), sometimes Peter wondered if he was mad. He had asked Remus once who had smiled that gentle, polite smile of his and quoted “mad, bad and dangerous to know?” There had been a small slip in the smile – a crack in the intricately laid armour. The Prank, as Peter had taken to calling it, was like a dream or a nightmare that still lingered on in the tails of conversation and in tiny but wholly telling comments – like syrup, after you’ve washed your hands of it the skin is still sticky and vaguely unpleasant to touch –

“What’chu thinkin’ so deeply about?” A vaguely husky voice snarled into his thoughts and, automatically Peter replied,

“Syrup and how your skin feels gunky even after you’ve washed it.”

He blushed at Sirius’ piercing cloud-grey stare and quirked eyebrow until there was a rough barking laugh and half a bottle of Firewhiskey forced into his hand. He made some questioning mouse noise as he tried to press the bottle back – but Sirius clamped his burning fingertips over Peter’s little stumpy hands and leaned in, storm-tossed eyes gleaming with the nearby firelight that, coupled with the hard line of his attractive mouth, made him slightly demonic and mad.

“No Pete,” he said very deliberately as if talking to a child, “I want you to have it,” the bursting in fits of howling laughter, falling back on the floor.

Peter smiled to himself – yep. Definitely mad.



“So Wormtail, old pal, old buddy, old…noodle…”

“Yes Padfoot, ye mad, crazy drunkard?”

There was a small appreciative grin sent his way before he was serious (in his head Peter heard the rat whisper Serious Sirius and was very pleased indeed that he did not collapse in a fit of unmanly giggles.)

“Have you…y’know…?” Peter was amazed at the blush elegantly gliding over Sirius’s cheeks and focused his attention away from the beginnings of his hard-on and on the suggestive hand movements.

“Had sex? Yeah.”

“Really? You sneaky rat! With who?

He shrugged nonchalantly

“Girl in the year below.”

“And…like…how was it?”

He shrugged again.

“Sweaty. Wet. And…well…”

“Yeah?”

Peter leaned in and whispered,

“She made these yowling noises – like a cat. And no pussy jokes.”

Sirius laughed,

“Hadn’t even crossed my mind…Cat noises? Really?”

Peter grinned.

“Yeah. And being a –”

“-rat yeah. Not good.” Sirius thought for a moment on this and then howled with laughter again. This time Peter joined him before asking,

“Why’d you want to know? Have you?”

“Yeah!” he said a little too quickly, which to his credit, he realised and, shuffling over so as to sit against Peter and the giant chairs, admitted “it was just – I don’t think she enjoyed it. I mean, I came but she didn’t. She made herself come.”

Peter thought about this for a minute before concurring,

“……Ah well. You came.”

Sirius gave him an incredulous look and chuckled slightly.

“‘Ah well ’,” he repeated to himself, “nice one mate!” Peter smiled but could tell there was still something.

“What else Pads?”

“…ithoughtaboutboys.” The words were rushed – almost whimpered which made Peter’s chest hurt but he heard them – the rat had heightened hearing.

“…OK. So?”

“Fuck Peter!”

“…Let’s not.” He laughed and was glad of the reward in the small crooked smile.

“But it’s wrong! And I want,” he flung his hands out wildly, “people I shouldn’t and – fuck, girls barely make me hard anymore! Even if they’re lying there with their legs gaping – and and…Barely anything! And when I wank, I need to think about boys to bring myself off! Or else – or else I can’t and it’s driving me fucking mad! Fuck – I’m such a fucking pervert.”

This last declaration was accompanied with Sirius hanging his head in his hands and digging the nails in hard enough to turn the skin bleached-bone white. Peter raised a hand, chest and heart burning as if he were in the heart of a star, and laid it over Sirius’, squeezing gently. When he saw one wet eye focus on him, he admitted softly,

“I think about boys sometimes too.”

There came a whimpering, broken noise – half sob, half laugh – at this so Peter added

“And I think about people I shouldn’t too…But that’s just the way it goes – right?”

“…We want what we can’t have…”

“Yes.”

Sirius leaned forward – his forehead pressed against Peter’s and sighed – making Peter’s head swim with despair and Firewhiskey. They were quiet except for slight panting breaths.

“…What if now I want you?”

Peter kissed him. It wasn’t a perfect kiss by any accounts – one nibbled too hard on the other’s lips, the other was sloppy and wet – but it wasn’t the technique that counted, it wasn't the technique that made them breathless, it was the knowledge and the security of the comfort in each other.



You’ve got such a pretty smile – it’s a shame the things you hide behind it

It wasn’t fair, Peter decided, that Remus sounded so obscene when he moaned at the sight of food. There had been pre-moon cravings so the two set off under the Invisibility Cloak for a late-night kitchen raid. The house-elves supplied them with a basket of varying meats, pastries and cheeses that was so gratefully received by Remus that Peter had to drag him away from his flowery, bizarre declarations of love for the house-elves once he had got down on one knee to propose marriage to a little girl elf. They weren’t far from the Common Room – a few stairs and two or three more corridors away – when Remus decided to stop and inhale the scent of the basket. Peter thought he was crazy – and was fully prepared to tell him so – except that he made the fatal mistake of –looking– at Remus.

Peter wasn’t a painter or a poet or some great artistic mind – but as he watched Remus for those few moments, he wished he had some form of talent to capture the obscene religious ecstasy on the werewolf’s face. There was always the hint of something dark about Remus but, here and now as he looked the most animalistic he had ever done, Peter had thought he never seemed more glorious. His eyes followed the long graceful line from the nape of his neck to his ever-so-slightly hunched shoulders as though it were his fingers caressing their way down. His hair – sandy brown lit to silvery from the light of the moon – was as shaggy and wild and tousled as though he had just fallen from the place the Muggles called Heaven and Peter felt he could believe in it for a lifetime-in-a-moment. A pale pink tongue flicked out between lips to trail a loving line over their shape as he breathed again, head rising with the inhalation as though this were some drug, some extraordinary love. Peter thought he knew the feeling as hooded eyes – sinfully dark with lust, tinged at the edges with flecks of pale moon-coloured light – met his, almost guiltily in their indulgence.

“It’s a bit of an obsession I’m afraid,” Remus laughed (polite and warm and self-depreciating and hinting at many shadows) before a smile tugged at his lips, as though it was unbidden.

“…The secret vices of our resident prefect?” Peter managed – voice only slightly squeaky as he felt his erection press against the cotton of his sky blue pyjama bottoms.

Remus laughed again, louder and wilder (voice ringing with memories of the forest and the wolf and the pack), before tightening the Cloak around them.

“We better hurry or they’ll think we’ve been attacked by Slytherin.”

“More likely they think we’ve been attacked by house-elves and forced to eat as much as we can.”

Remus thought about this (scars across his cheek stretching lazily as his lips pursed) then nodded.

“That sounds a more likely train of thought for those two.”

“Anything is a likely train of thought for those two.”

They shared a secret laugh, one they had shared before, about the other members of their little group before Remus gestured toward the nearby stairs, moving on.

But Peter found he couldn’t.



It took him a few steps to realise he was the only one beneath the Cloak but, once the scent of Peter (fur and dust and earth) started to die, Remus turned and saw the other boy standing still a few feet back.

The light of the waxing moon (close, very close to full and new blood spilled) lit this figure up; who wasn’t Peter who was so often ignored or shunned because he was smaller and slightly chubbier and was a rat. This was a Peter he had seen glances of before – the serious Peter who thought deeply about everything and took each wound of his friends as his own. He appeared almost ghost-like in the light – pale hair, pale eyes, pale skin – with an expression of wondering and fear and warmth over his face.

“Peter?” He asked, moving back down to where he stood and frowning slightly at the dazed look turned his way. He touched Peter’s arm (even though he hated contact this close to the moon – was so sensitive to everything; every breath or brush of skin or press of fabric) and asked again, voice soft and concerned.

The daze faded – eyes clearing at the touch – sharp, determined gaze now. There was the soft scratch of sock covered feet moving, arching as one hand (blessedly cool and tender and encompassing) cupped his cheek and lips were brushed against his like a whisper. He felt his hands clutch at the hem of a T-shirt as the lips moved over his – his lips responding eagerly, desperately – and then there was the timid swipe of tongue against his lower lip. Remus leaned into the kiss – and swept his tongue along the roof of Peter’s mouth before gently tugging on the T-shirt with enough force to disentangle himself from the other boy. There was confusion in the word,

“Remus?”

“I’m sorry Peter.” Remus said regretfully, meeting his eyes and finding understanding there. Peter smiled and nodded,

“Let’s get you fed.” Remus nodded slowly and walked back up to the Tower holding his friend’s hand.

Second part of Selkie. I still can't believe i did this

( and maybe it's just a bad dream )

Selkie

Selkie is probably still the work I am most proud of. A birthday piece for theleapingmuse that was beta'd by waxrose. I'd love to do something like this again

( maybe even a fairytale )

Yet another of the 2005-fandom!birthday fics. (the last one i think?) for hybrid_xisha

Harry Potter, dream-based!AU

( More Than The Wars Of Our Fathers )

another 2005-fandom!birthday fic, for trowicia this time.

Once Upon A Drunken Night
Harry Potter, Remus/Sirius.

( text )

Be Near Me When My Light Is Low

2005-fandom!birthday fic for waxrose

Harry Potter, Slughorn/McGonagall which is probably still the strangest pairing I've ever written, title stolen from Tennyson.

( be near me when my light is low )

2005 ficlet, Harry Potter, Sirius/Remus. 10 minute work hence the innate awful of it

( heartbeat )

Blood and Amber

Harry Potter, Sirius/Remus, set sometime during the Azkaban years.
First ever Harry Potter fanfic, back in 2004 (ohmygod)

( like waking )

Nearly a year updating this. That is shocking - must be fixed!


Small thumbnail OF MY THIGH 12 HOURS AGO



( here thar be needles and ink and tattoooooooosss )

FINALLY - THE BEST ONE I HAVE SO FAR OF THE FINISHED PIECE

A campfuckudie  inspired post! ...Also I keep forgetting what I've done


( bann from GetBackers get uke'd up, The Director and sick sick Axel being mocked by Umeda )