actionreaction: profile/side photo of dudley o'shaughnessy ([characters] jd)
Yes this is titled after and inspired by Maroon 5's One More Night. It crawled into my brain today and refused to leave until I wrote this.

Their fights are spectacular.

Her voice starts out smooth and slow like warm honey on sweet bread, hot from the oven. It rises, sharpens, tightens and coils like a snake, pierced and poised and ready to strike. It reaches fever pitches, intense and lashing, cutting like a blade tied to the end of a whip: unnecessarily sharp.

His starts out even, cool, and then deepens in intensity. It grows colder, distant, detached and removed even as he burns with suppressed anger. It softens, quiets, freezes, and with anyone but her, turns mocking and cruel. With her, it's guarded even until the height of emotion, when it's ripped open and laid bare.

Their fights are spectacular and they are frequent.

They go to war weekly, years of repressed emotions spilling out of them both. They fight, they leave, and always, they come back. They're dysfunctional, but they're each others'.

Their fights are specular and the make-up sex after each one is even more so.

Her voice still starts slow and smooth like honey and still works up to a fever pitch. It breaks on a high note when she clings to him, riding him hard, red nails digging into his skin, red lipstick smeared everywhere, imprinted like tattoos.

He is still ripped open and is laid bare before her, over her, under her, whether he's pinned her down or she's pinned him, with hips and hands and vicious bites. They mark each other, they own each other, and in their way, they love each other.

Their fights are spectacular and neither of them keep score. Margot knows and JD knows - when they fight, they both lose. When they make up, they both win.
actionreaction: photo of ezra miller wearing a black hat, smiling slightly ([characters] corvus)
I never know where Corvus stuff comes from. It just happens.

Peppermint made him remember. Scent tied into memories made them harder to forget and even though he was cursed in such a way that he couldn't remember as much as he'd like, nor could he tell anyone about himself, Corvus started to remember the more he smelled peppermint.

It smelled like Christmas, like winter and cold. It smelled like holidays and curling up in front of fireplaces and warm arms around him. It smelled like his old life. He clung to the memories, trying to give them substances by drinking mint teas, mint hot chocolate, eating peppermint bark or candy canes. Every time, he remembered a little more, but the words still caught in his throat when he tried to tell Mars.

He could picture Anaximander grin that cruel thing he called a smile, amused at Corvus's failure, amused that Corvus couldn't so much as tell Mars his real name.

But Corvus was determined, more than he'd ever been. He wanted Mars to know him, really know him, even more than he wanted to know himself.

He just hoped that they both liked who he really was.
actionreaction: photo of samantha harris, aboriginal model, leaning back and smiling slightly ([characters] lela)
This came out super sweet.

There was something special about the first Christmas together. It wasn't just a tree. It was their tree. It wasn't just decorating the house, it was decorating their home. It wasn't just Christmas, it was Christmas together.

Now that all the company parties, the quodpot galas, the fashionable extravaganzas and all the it parties were over - at least until New Year's - it was just Marco and Lela home from midnight mass curled up around each other in their bed in the wee hours of Christmas morning. Tomorrow (really later today) they'd be visiting Lela's family for lunch and Marco's for dinner, and bringing home so many leftovers, Lela wouldn't have to cook the rest of the week, except just for some variety.

But later was still hours away and when Lela's fingers danced over Marco's chest and his buried themselves in her hair, sleep was hours away too. They only had a few more of those hours to be alone together and sleep wasn't highest on their list.

Before she drifted off wrapped in Marco's arms, her long legs tangled in his, Lela knew that this was her favorite Christmas yet, because it was theirs.
actionreaction: phot of typewriter with text "writers write. everyone else makes excuses." ([writing] excuses)
I seem to really lean towards writing about Corvus and Mars with these prompts and today is no exception.

In the days before Mars, when he'd first been cursed, Corvus spent a lot of time in his bird form, wondering how much he would pay, what he would sacrifice to get his freedom back. Anaximander had him under control - mostly. He could force Corvus into that shape, keep him from being hum, and make him do his bidding, but he couldn't break Corvus's will. One hundred years later and Corvus still fought back before he did what he was commanded. Like he'd fought over Mars.

He didn't mean to let on that Mars meant something to him, but after decades of refusing to get close to anyone, suddenly cozying up to someone new was a giant red flag to Anaximander. It meant Mars was different. Mars was special. Corvus had been drawn to him, and Anaximander wanted to know why. In his human form Corvus stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped around his waist, and wiped the mirror clear. On his chest above his heart was what looked like a tattoo, that of a bird in a cage. Corvus passed a hand over it and sighed, the sound deep as though he'd pulled it up from his toes and dragged it through hell before issuing it from his mouth.

He could only hope that the price of his freedom wasn't Mars's life. If it was, he'd rather remain in that cage for eternity.

Writing about Corvus gives me feels.
actionreaction: phot of garbage can full of paper and with a typerwiter in it. text: don't give up ([writing] never give up)
I'm so happy I managed to write something today. I considered taking the day off because it was a holiday, but I didn't want to lose my groove. Anyway, this pretty much follows this.

Corvus spent the entire night outside of Mars's window. He didn't sleep. Instead he watched Mars and he watched the hummingbird. It took him only a little while to realize that the bird was watching them both. Its attention was split between the young man tangled in his sheets and the large black bird keeping watch. It was almost as though the humming bird wasn't here just for Mars.

Corvus cocked his head, staring at the bright and tiny green bird that watched him back. Its small eyes were pools of secrets of knowledge Corvus yearned for even a hint at. He cawed softly at the hummingbird as if worried the sound of his voice would wake Mars. The hummingbird made no reply, instead glanced meaningfully from Corvus to Mars and back.

Frustration filled Corvus. What was that supposed to mean? Yes he knew he and Mars were connected somehow. It was the reason Corvus moved to Portland, the reason behind that little pull he got that told him something was going to happen. Only this time it had been a huge pull and Corvus had no idea why. Not until Anaximander got himself involved again.

Now Mars's life was in danger and Corvus was swallowing guilt, thinking it was his fault. The hummingbird made a strangely sympathetic sound, ruffled its wings and took to the air. It had imparted whatever message it wanted to send. It was up to Corvus to figure out its meaning. Until then, until he could turn back to human form, he was going to keep an eye on Mars.
actionreaction: photo of two different styles of keyboards. text: choose your weapon ([writing] choose your weapon)
I just wanted to write something so I went looking for a prompt, and found one in the form of a hummingbird. This is what I got.

Corvus watched the hummingbird with shiny dark eyes from where he perched on the roof of the building. He'd come to watch Mars, like he frequently did, but the young man was asleep, tangled in his sheets, and lost in his dreams. Corvus hoped he was in those dreams, since he couldn't be with Mars right now. It was Anaximander's doing. Corvus was spending the night trapped his in bird form because of the sorcerer's whim, and that meant watching Mars from afar.

But tonight, there was a hummingbird and that caught Corvus's attention immediately. It was out of place, just as he was, and he knew it wasn't a coincidence. Two bird connected to life and death outside one young man's window couldn't be a coincidence. But where Corvus was a harbinger and a young man trapped in a bird's form, the hummingbird was resurrection. It was green, it was life, it was hope. But it was fragile, delicate, just as thin as the hope Corvus had for Mars.

But if there was one thing he would cling to, it was this sign. A hummingbird could mean that Mars might survive this after all.
actionreaction: text: not so much writing as making a mess with a pen (jordan)
I know it's been a while. Most of the writing I've been doing have been for actual full-length novels, which I won't be posting here. I'm trying to actually finish something full-length, but sometimes narratives help.

This was written for a character in an American-set Harry Potter game. He's coming to terms with his sexuality and explaining to his younger brother about it. It's a very big step for this character so I had to write this up.

Out of the broom closet. )


actionreaction: text: not so much writing as making a mess with a pen (Default)

December 2016




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