Citizenship & Raspberry Jam

( Supernatural )


( RPF )


( BtVS or AtS )

( Random Drabbles )


( Non-fandom )

( Stalled WIPs )

( Amnesty posts )


( Fic recs for BtVS arousing fic )

So yesterday I put out an icon/drabble call.  Here's the drabbles that resulted...

itsabigrock asked for: 

( Lindsey heading back to LA )



gblvr asked for: Jared/Jensen, first kiss

( Jared/Jensen, first kiss )



luvxander asked for: Sam and Xander, having a discussion about the various monsters they fight and who has the better hero, Xander with Buffy or Sam with Dean

( This is not that drabble... )

Was feeling the need to write something other than my BB. Ah McSweeney's, you're such a giver.

Some things I have done to disgrace my family name
( by Sam Winchester )


Assorted chances, good and bad
( by Bobby Singer )

Actual bullet points from a handout for a philosophy class on consciousness
( by Dean Winchester )

Less popular boardgames
( by Ruby )

All the porn is written for my Big Bang. And there's a lot. A LOT. And yet? I want to write some dirrrrrty Sam/Dean. But what I should be writing is the battle scene. Jeezus with the issues.

I miss you dancetomato!

I shouldn't post this, but I'm thinking that if I do, maybe it'll prompt me to keep going. I watched the beginning of Intimate Relations and the initial conflict got me thinking and then I used Write or Die and this came out.

Dean/OFC, wincest?


Dean shifted only slightly on the bed, nothing overtly indicating that he'd heard the slow ease of the window as it quietly shuddered up from the sill. His hand gripped the knife handle tightly even as he feigned sleep, not wanting to give any advantage to the intruder or to waken Sammy who was sleeping soundly on the other side of the bed. Dean turned his body as naturally as he could manage, in imitation of a restless sleeper, eyes half-lidded until he could see the willowy form sliding through the night air and into the room. His fingers relaxed as his body instinctively recognized Cindy's curves, hormones taking over almost instantly from the previous thrum of adrenaline in his veins. He let her think he was still slumbering as he watched her drift silently across the room, bare feet not making a sound even on the ancient warped floorboards of the shoebox the Winchesters were currently calling "home."

( Read more... )

aside:  this is my 6th (yes, s.i.x.t.h.) attempt at posting this (and everything showing up right), so if it doesn't work, I give up.

A while back,  I did a drabble request and responded fairly quickly to three of them.  The last one sorta stumped me.  But I have written it at last!  And it has turned out to be more of a ficlet than a drabble (I'm sure you don't mind llaras, do you?)

Here goes:

llaras requested:  J2 - italian food

( click to read )

wesleysgirl  requested: J2, one of them feeding the other something with his fingers.

( click to read )


sockkpuppett requested: Sam meets Castiel. Sees true face. Hears true voice. Dean's there. Freaks out?

( click to read )


luvxander requested: Dean/Sam, funny colored condoms

( click to read )

Thanks to dancetomato for being the smart one in our relationship and suggesting that I use Semagic to post rather than attempting to depend on the LJ update panel to work the way it should. 

That'd be ME.

I made dancetomato a new layout today, and the pictures ate my brain. And then concocted this:

Warning: RPF
Rating: PG-13? for sexual situations

( Nude )

That's right. I kicked that bitch of a block in the ass and finished my Spandrew.

Here's where it starts:

Wanna be like you
Rating: NC-17
Spike/Andrew

Andrew’s whole body tensed as Spike hissed in his ear, “Following me?”

Andrew had been following Spike—just trying to understand some of the mystique behind the whole tortured, souled vampire thing. Plus, he was trying to get his swagger down.

“No! Of course not! I was just…just…” Andrew’s body began to bail on him, arms wildly gesticulating, head turning from side to side in panic, “…just doing research.”

Through slitted eyes Spike asked, “Since when did they let you out of the house?”

“Wellll…they don’t actually know I’m gone. Did a little mojo-jojo and,” here he made a persona change complete with dramatic hand emphasis, “ poof, I was ignore-boy, just like the cloak of invisibility.”

“What?” Spike spoke with something between derision and disbelief.

“You know, Harry gets the cloak from his uncle and it was his dad’s and he can wear it and no one knows he’s there?. People see me, but don’t pay any attention to me. I blend in, become part of the scenery, below notice,” and to himself, “think I over-used it in high school though.”

“You must have done your spell all arseways, as I see you standing here well enough. Kind of hard to ignore the nervous sweat oozing from your pores, you dosser.” Spike looked him up and down in a way that made Andrew’s stomach knot.

Cocking his head in real curiosity, Andrew said, “What’s a dosser?”

"An insult you git. A stupid, useless little man.” Spike gave him a final look and turned on his heel to walk away.

“You’re just so cool.”

Spike stopped. Turned slowly. “Excuse me?”

“I…I…you….you’re just so cool.” Andrew said the words with more force and emphasis this time.

Raising his brows, Spike queried, “What precisely, do you mean?”

Andrew spoke in a rush, words tumbling out of his mouth, “You have this whole aura about you, even if you weren’t a vampire with the whole eternal aura, you walk and talk and even stand like you own the world. And the women? They drool the second you walk in the room. To be even just a little bit like you, I mean, I even bought the coat and tried the all black fashion statement, Jonathan said it just made me look washed out...”

Spike cut him off, “You want to be like me?” He sounded incredulous.

“Oh, god if only! To be angsty and torn and so obviously in love, but totally noble and still retain just a hint of Clark Kent on red kryptonite,” in a final burst of adulation, “To have a vampire such as you? Anne Rice only wishes!” Andrew’s face had picked up an excited flush and his nervousness had been rubbed out by his obvious exuberance.

Abruptly, Andrew found his back pressed painfully to the tree behind him, his neck clenched between strong, sure fingers, “You think that pain is cool? That unrequited love is cool? That overwhelming guilt is cool? That not being alive is cool?” Spike sneered as his whole body tensed in anger.

Andrew couldn’t believe he was this close to Spike. Even in his dreams there was a distance between them that seemed insurmountable. Unable to control himself, he closed his eyes and brushed a kiss over the angry mouth that was so close to his. He’d thought about what the vampire’s skin might feel like, how he would smell—up close and personal. Somehow, it was different and so much better. Not as cold as he had thought, and a musky, smoky scent...

Spike’s hand dropped from Andrew’s neck as if on fire, and he took a giant step backward, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth as he moved, fixing Andrew with an intense, disapproving look.

“Don’t play with things you don’t understand boy.” Spike spat on the grass, pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

The hurt surprised him. Like a kicked puppy, Andrew cowered against the tree. He hadn’t expected any return on his tentative kiss, but to be looked at like he was dirt, no worse than dirt; worms in dirt; no, microbes on the worms in dirt; no, protons that were part of the cellular structure of the microbes on the...

“You can’t stoke a fire that’s turned to ash.” The melancholy tone in Spike’s voice puzzled Andrew and he raised his head out of his self-recrimination.

Instead of a pissed-off-ready-to-battle-and-kick-his-ass posture, Spike’s stance held an air of defeat and resignation.

“I’m sorry. I just...you...I don’t know, “ he was cut off again

“Shut your cakehole. You knew exactly what you were doing.” Andrew watched the smoke spiral around the platinum hair as the vampire talked, “You hoped I would take you and pound you into the ground,” Spike looked at him with knowing eyes through the haze, “one way or another.”

Andrew swallowed heavily as he felt his testicles loosen from the tight, anticipatory bunch they had been in, and felt them coil again as he heard Spike’s words, “So which way do you want it boy?”

“What?” Andrew’s mouth had gone dry and jello had apparently taken the place of his bones.

“Do you want me to beat you up or beat you off?” Spike flicked the butt of his cigarette away and stood with his arms crossed, waiting for an answer.

*************


( And here's the rest: )

A post-Chosen fic, continued from what I posted yesterday

“No, I haven’t seen or heard from her since...the day before yesterday.” Xander peered into his cup to see if there was even a drop of yummy caffinated stuff, something he could catch on his tongue to slake his craving. Damn. Nothing. He set it on his desk and refocused on the conversation. Dawn sounded really worried. Worried like he hadn’t heard her in, well at least since they’d settled down here in..

“What?” Xander was jolted back again when Dawn mentioned something about Buffy’s bag.

“Her bag is here. With all her stuff in it. She didn’t take anything.” Panic was beginning to tinge the young woman’s voice.

Xander hadn’t seen Buffy without that bag in…well at least 3 years, ever since…

“And there’s no note, nothing on the machine, I’ve already called Willow and Giles and they don’t know anything either.”

“So I’m your last hope, huh?”

“Are you even listening to me Xander?” Dawn’s voice took on a hard edge, very reminiscent of her older sister.

“Okay. Okay. Yes. I get you. No Buffy. Just bag. I’m sorry.” Xander wiped his hand across his forehead and became duly sheepish. “No, Dawnie. I haven’t seen her. I haven’t heard from her. I’ll be right there.”

( Read more... )

REALLY really nervous. My first attempt at slash...EVER. Be kind.

( A venture into an unknown land... )