A virus with shoes

I think my Psychic Manifestation of Slash™ has slightly backfired on me.

Sure, the guy in Starbucks this morning did look a little like Don, but I might have been watching too many re-runs of Scrubs at the moment because he looked more like the bastard son of Don and JD.
Except slightly chubby and Glaswegian.

I still found him hot though. My mind is a very confused place at the moment.

Maybe I could pair him up with the bleach-blond Freddie-Prinze-Jr-but-gay a-like I saw on the Subway.
(Make that gay-er, because the guy may be tapping Buffy but he kinda looks like a friend of Judy. Especially in Scooby-Doo)

***

I have just bought the first series of Supernatural on DVD and now have Sam and Dean sitting in the slash corner of my mind, touching each other and laughing evilly. Why do I do this to myself?

And here's part two of your evenings Primeval-fic viewing, 'cos I haven't worked out how to HTML two separate LJ cuts onto one post yet.

If you want a job doing half-assed...

 

Right, here’s more Connor/Ryan smut. Be warned – if any plot bunnies are let loose in my fic-table patch as a result of this one I shall be forced to get Mr McGregor on their ass! 
I have other porn I should be writing you know…

I love this place but it weird’s me out sometimes.

Last month, just after commenting on the slashability of the Petrelli brothers from Heroes, I saw two guys on the tube that looked quite like them. Not dead on but enough that because they were sitting next to each other you noticed it.

Today on my way to work on the tube, right after posting the Ryan/Connor fic last night, I saw their doppelgangers!
And yes, these guys were again sat right next to each other and a pre-disposition of the sub-conscious towards the archetype could mean even a slight resemblance would do, but really, this time the likeness was uncanny.
The Connor wasn’t quite as accurate – short hair and face a bit thinner, but the Ryan? My hand to god – Exact. Double.
Mouth, eyes, hair, jaw – everything the same. I think I freaked the guy out staring. The only reason I decided it wasn’t actually Mark Wakeling was because as far as I know he’s not got body-modification ear plugs in both ears.

Well, I have thought long and hard about these two occurrences and have decided there is only one rational explanation.

I am developing the psychic power to manifest my slash characters physically.

And I’m getting more accurate at it.

The next logical step hit me at once. I must now spend all my time chanting ‘Don and Charlie, Don and Charlie’ until those two turn up, whereupon I will lock them somewhere secure for closer study.

Because, of course, I could only ever use my new superhuman talent for good. ::smirk::

- and don’t worry, I’ll take pictures for you guys : ) 

The guy at Boots just now had the nicest hands I’ve ever seen on a guy. Smooth, pale, long fingers and lovely nails. Why do straight guys never take care of their nails? Always those short, dumpy, cut down to the quick jobs instead. ::sigh::

**

I will definitely be posting more fics over the next few weeks as I’ve just signed up for 5 prompts over at rounds_of_kink. 2 for Num3rs and 3 for Harry Potter.
There are another 6 that I very well may pick as well, but I’m gonna wait and see how I do with the others. Don’t want to – you know, overstretch myself or anything!

**

I’m trying to avoid the wiles of a particularly freakish plot bunny at the moment. One that makes me ashamed of my brain and is, in any case, so obscure that it will only make sense to about 6 people in the world. I don’t wanna write this! It’s not a productive way to use my time! 

And why does my mind come up with this crap? I don’t object to the constant porn!plots and slash!musings running through my head (‘cos those are fun) but this is worse than my Numb3rs!Colby/Family Guy!Quagmire idea.

::shakes head at own brain in bemused disgust::

I may have to engineer a plot bunny strain of Mixamytosis. 

A little drabble for Numb3rs100.
Which I did in about a minute ::huffs on fingernails, polishes on shirt:: (*g*)

Well, here it is as promised - tattoo inspired smut. Maybe the plot bunnies will leave me to get some sleep now.

I'll be posting to the same communities mentioned in the post below as well.

Also thought I'd mention that these are un-beta'd, so comments are welcome. Brickbats, roses - it's all good.

Ok. The Numb3rs plot bunny mafia has got my number and is forcing me to do this...

Here's a don/charlie ficlet or drabble (a drablet, if you will) that I felt compelled to write today during my lunch break instead of, you know, actually eating my lunch.

Ah, Eppescest - you are both meat and drink to me, my love...


After the cause, the causality

Charlie can now never forget the danger Don’s job puts him in. Even when he’s gasping and needy, bare underneath his brother, the danger is there lurking – like an aching tooth or an incorrect equation, not letting him forget.

Don always has a pale, faint taste of hard metal and chemicals – brass and cordite. The opposite end of the spectrum from Charlie’s soft, white-mineral taste.
Don’s hands remind him, even when they’re wrapped around his cock, twisting and stroking all the brains Charlie has out of him. Don has calluses on his palm from firing his gun at the practise range. They add wonderful, exquisite friction and remind Charlie every second that his brother can kill. Or be killed.

But it helps. These times of sweatskinteethnailsbiteclutchmoan – as if every little death wards off the chances of a bigger ending like a talisman; and Charlie knows that’s stupid and foolish and, worse, mathematically not viable but he clings to the idea anyway. Donny is the only one he would compromise his integrity like that for.

Skin heals. And scrapes (bullet wounds, it was a bullet) mend, and the fact that Charlie knows how the small white scar on Don’s forearm feels under his lips and tongue helps.

He tells himself it helps.

Well here we are - tested, tested - and we're two litre bottles of san miguel and a couple of hours of escapist tv to the wind and, is it just me?
or are the Petrelli brothers from Heroes just aching to be slashed?

That kiss when Peter's in his coma.

I don't think its just me.