Long time no speak?

[eirenical]

I'll admit it. I have been truly atrocious at keeping up with LJ lately. -.-;;; It's probably due to the fact that tumblr has sucked me in big time and I'm spending a lot of my fannish energy over there. Not that that's an excuse. :-P

Anyway, I probably have a lot of RL stuff to catch you all up on (continuing job saga, NEW FOUNTAIN PENS, NEW GALAXY S4 PHONE OMG IT'S SO NEW AND SHINY AND FAST AND AMAZING, new show loves, etc.)... but TBH, I'm being lazy today and I don't feel like it. ^_~ Maybe some other day.

So, instead, how about a fic round-up and a prompt meme? Sound good? ^_^

1. Les Miserables -- Follow You, Follow Me; a.k.a. the Grantaire-gets-a-tumblr fic
OK. First off... this monster. Holy fuck. After resisting it for years, I went and fell head first into the Les Mis fandom. Yikes. This story was prompted by a tumblr post which basically mused on the fact that Grantaire was practically made for tumblr (yes, this is a modern AU -- ANOTHER thing I swore I wouldn't write, especially for Les Mis, I feel like such a hypocrite)... because really, he was. And I intended this to be 1000 words of fluff. Then it went and Took a Serious Turn (TM)... and now I have 19,000 words and counting of angst-filled Les Mis tumblr fic. I DON'T EVEN KNOW. But I love it and it's the most consistent writing inspiration I've had in a long time and also the first time I've been able to sustain a WIP in forever. So. Yeah. Four parts are already posted, the fifth will probably go up later today. Enjoy? *unsure but game smile*


Follow You, Follow Me (16560 words) by Renee-chan
Chapters: 4/?
Fandom: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables (2012)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire, Cosette/Eponine
Characters: Grantaire (Les Misérables), Enjolras (Les Misérables), Jean "Jehan" Prouvaire, Joly (Les Misérables), Bossuet Laigle, Combeferre (Les Misérables), Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Feuilly (Les Misérables), Éponine Thénardier, Cosette Fauchelevent, Jean Valjean, Inspector Javert, Gavroche Thénardier
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Tumblr, Slow Build, Mistaken Identity, Anonymity, Obsessive Behaviour, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Addiction

Summary:
In this strange conglomeration of humanity which made up the users of tumblr, Grantaire felt like he'd stumbled into a land peopled entirely by others who were just -- like -- him. He was so used to being the lone devil's advocate in a group of angels, the lone voice of reason in a group of idealists, the lone voice of dissent in a group of yes-men, that to have found an entire population of people who were just as eager to shoot down the mainstream as he was -- it was glorious to feel so... not alone. And it went to his head.

Read on AO3: [1] [2] [3] [4]
Read on ff.net: [1] [2] [3] [4]

2. Vikings -- To Dance To His Tune; yet another Bjorn/Athelstan fic because I just can't leave those boys alone. -.-;;; Could be considered sequel-ish to "Reasons Enough to Surrender" as long as you don't mind a few inconsistencies created by the season finale. Otherwise, it can easily read as a stand-alone.


To Dance to His Tune (2433 words) by Renee-chan
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Vikings (TV)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Athelstan/Bjorn (Vikings)
Characters: Bjorn (Vikings), Athelstan (Vikings), Aslaug (Vikings)
Additional Tags:Adult!Bjorn, Sexual Content, Parents & Children, Resentment towards Parents, Divorce, Future Fic, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Clothed Sex, Rough Sex, Angry Sex, Submission

Summary:
Athelstan sighed, turned his tugging on Bjorn's beard into a caress that threaded up into his hair and stopped with his hand wrapped around the back of Bjorn's neck. He pulled Bjorn's head down to touch their foreheads together, whispered, "What would you have me say, Bjorn?"

Bjorn simply shook his head, then tilted it down to press more kisses onto Athelstan's already kiss-swollen lips. He didn't wish to think of the future, didn't wish to think of the days to come when he would have to take a wife, didn't wish to think on the fact that he was a man just barely come into his prime... while Athelstan was soon to be leaving his. Time, the future... they were not his friends and he would cast them away from himself if he could.

Read on AO3
Read on ff.net

And now... what you all came here for? (Because I really don't have enough writing on my plate already and, YES, Not-For-Primetime-Fic-I-haven't-started, I do see you there and I do know you're due in like... a week. O_o;;;)

Writing Prompt Meme!

Use one of your favorite icons, and post a ONE WORD prompt with it in the comments. I will then write you a ficlet to go with it.

Any fandoms listed under my umbrella fic tag are fair game (can be found in convenient list form at the top of this page), as well as any fandoms found under a “fanfic: ” tag on my LJ or DW.

Comments

[zoicite.livejournal.com]

Mouthy little dicksplash
(Yeah, that's 3 words. You can choose just one if you want!)

[rchan.livejournal.com]

Ack! Wait. WHY DO I NOT HAVE A FERGUS ICON? I NEED A FERGUS ICON. D:

*coughs*

OMG. XD *dies laughing* Damn it, that somehow sent me straight to a really horrifically fucked up Fergus/Cutler place. With blowjobs. O_O I'm not so sure about what my muse is doing there. -.-;;;

Still, though, that has to be my current top favorite of ALL my top favorite derogatory nicknames EVER. Fuck, I love Fergus. ^____________^

*coughs* Anyway, I'll, uh... see what I can do to talk my muse into something else... unless you'd be OK with fucked up Fergus/Cutler blowjobs? *eg*

...oh. OH, WAIT. I JUST GOT A BETTER IDEA.

*cackles evilly*

[zoicite.livejournal.com]

Yeah, I intended to send you to AT LEAST a Cutler&Fergus place, so I'm TOTALLY okay with this.

[rchan.livejournal.com]

LOL. I thought you might be. ;D

[zoicite.livejournal.com]

[rchan.livejournal.com]

YOU ARE THE BESTEST EVER. *_*

(1/4)

[rchan.livejournal.com]

OMFG. How do you always manage to get me to write you 2000 worders when I do this thing? O_o;;; Seriously, dude. I hope it all fits in this comment. -.-;;; Enjoy?

---

"I know who you are..."

Hal froze in the act of turning, those words, that voice, stopping him dead in his tracks. He'd know that voice anywhere -- the soft Irish brogue, still strong after centuries away from the motherland, the purr underneath the innocent syllables, teasing and hinting at dark thoughts, dark desires, dark needs. That voice stirred things inside of him, instincts he'd thought long dead and buried... 55 years dead and buried. And somehow, Hal just knew that if he completed that turn, if he met those storm blue eyes and the heat that he knew would be in them... he would be lost.

Still, he couldn't resist. He never could. Not this one. Never this one. Painting a firm scowl on his face before he even turned, Hal spat those words of denial, words the other would know were false the second they dripped from his lips. They would break upon the ground, shattered lies like so many others he had told in his long life... and just as futile. The moment he turned, the moment their eyes met, that heat surged up to engulf him, just as he'd known it would. He found himself straightening, pulling himself up to his full height, felt his head tilt upwards and his eyes tilt down, slanting his gaze down his nose at the one standing before him... a prince preparing to accept the fealty of one on his knees.

And Fergus did not disappoint. He stalked forwards, drawn in by the disdain in Hal's eyes -- disdain for Fergus or for himself, even Hal couldn't have said -- and the promise of swift retribution for even the slightest step out of line. Hal could feel the need rising inside him as Fergus stalked towards him -- back stooped low, gaze not quite rising to meet his, not quite daring to look away -- the need to bury his hands in that short-cropped hair, yank his head backwards and reassert his dominance. Worse, he knew Fergus could feel it, too. Hal could feel him testing the boundaries of that need, trying to guage how much Hal had changed in those 55 years years, trying to guage what advances might be welcome, which might be ruthlessly brushed aside.

He was good at this game, Fergus was. He always had been. That was why, through all the years, all the changes, all the ups and the downs, Fergus was the only one who'd managed to stay by his side -- his faithful servant, an extension of his right hand... his.

(2/4)

[rchan.livejournal.com]

((Nope. Not even close.))

So, when those lips turned up into a smile of pure welcome and those eyes dropped to the ground, that body spread open and waiting and those words -- "My Lord..." -- slid from Fergus's tongue like a songbird set free after 55 years of imprisonment, reverential and worshipful, Hal's breath caught. It would be so easy... Just one step, not even a step, and he could have his hands buried in the close crop of Fergus's hair, pushing that worshipful tongue closer to where he wanted -- to where he needed -- it to go. He could have that face pressed to his groin, those lips wrapped around his manhood, could take what pleasure he would from the willing comfort of Fergus's mouth...

No. No. He wasn't that man, anymore. He didn't do those things. Sex... temptation... blood. He refused to honor Leo's memory with a bloodbath of sin and corruption. He deserved better. Annie, trying so very hard to build a family for Eve, for Tom... for Hal -- she deserved better. And Tom... More than anything, Hal wanted to prove to Tom that he wasn't everything Tom had accused him of being, wasn't a monster, wasn't a bloody massacre waiting to happen... because if he was, then all this time, Leo had been wrong. Leo had thought he could change -- truly change -- and become good, become the man he wished to be. And if Tom was right, and Hal would never be that man... then Leo had been wrong. And more than anything, Hal needed Leo to be right, needed to know that he'd placed his faith in the right man, needed to know that these last 55 years hadn't just been a farce... an act of masturbatory self-righteousness. Because if they hadn't been... then he'd wasted 55 years years of this.

At that thought, Hal's eyes were drawn, once again, to Fergus's bowed head, so close... so close he could feel the heat of his breath where it ghosted against him... No. Hal grabbed Fergus by the jacket, careful not to touch the flesh beneath, terrified of what would happen to his control if he did, and shoved him hard agains the wall. And the second he did, his every wary instinct, his every care to not touch... washed away. He pressed closer, slid his body against Fergus's, grinned at the feel of his cock beginning to stir against Fergus's leg... and of the answering hardness against his own.

In that moment, though Fergus was the one trapped against the wall, Hal felt the first fluttery feelings of panic, knew he was going to lose to this thing. Fergus, and all he represented, was too much of a temptation from which to turn away. Fergus wouldn't have come to him if he had not been ready for the change, hadn't been ready to step back into his rightful place... if he hadn't wanted it more than he'd wanted anything these last 55 years. Fergus would have known. He always did. And he always put himself exactly where Hal needed him most. Only Hal wasn't ready. Not this time. He didn't want to be ready. Reaching out, careful to only touch skin through the latex of his protective gloves -- ignoring that he might be smearing rubbish along the fine stubble under that strong jaw -- Hal wrapped his fingers around Fergus's neck... and squeezed.

And Fergus, that bastard... smiled. Even as he fought for air, even as he lengthened his posture to take the pressure off his windpipe, still he smiled, still he dared tell Hal not to panic. Fergus knew him well -- too well. Because, Hal was panicking. He was running scared from a thing he wanted so desperately he wouldn't even put a name to it for fear of making it real. And then Fergus said those magic words.

(3/4)

[rchan.livejournal.com]

((GOOD GRIEF.))

"I'm still loyal."

Still loyal. Hal dared to look into Fergus's eyes then, dared to plumb their depths for the true meaning of that statement. And what he saw humbled him. Fergus was loyal. Fergus was loyal enough to step back, to walk away, to allow Hal another year, another five... another fifty-five, if that was what he needed, what he wanted. He was even willing to play the villain... to allow Hal a chance to be the hero. He was willing to do whatever it took to give Hal a chance at whatever happiness he could create for himself... or steal for himself. Hal had no illusions about that. This happiness... a vampire didn't deserve this happiness. This was Tom's happiness and Annie's, Pearl's and Leo's. It was stolen happiness, stolen warmth -- just like everything else in a vampire's life, it wasn't truly Hal's to claim. And that wasn't Fergus's fault.

Hal bit out the words to start this in motion, to let Fergus know his innermost desires -- "Then forget you saw me." -- and released him. And as Fergus turned away, bent over, gasping for air, Hal was again overwhelmed with a long-forgotten desire. The curve of that back, bare skin at the nape of the neck just barely exposed underneath a turned up collar... the sudden need to cover what was presented, to mark it and lay claim, to let everyone know that this magnificent specimen was his... G-d. He had to get Fergus away or he would embarrass himself right here in this filthy alley.

...as if this would be the first dirty alley in which Fergus had dropped to his knees for Hal.

No. No. He didn't want that, couldn't want that. Fortunately for his sanity, Fergus had straightened by then, resumed talking. Hal was so intently focused on watching his mouth move that he missed entirely what was being said until he caught a set of words... words that froze him in his tracks.

(4/4)

[rchan.livejournal.com]

((I can't believe that took me four comments to post. -.-;;;))

"...boatload of Old Ones on the way..."

Old Ones. Ones Ones coming here. Mr. Snow... coming here. The mere thought of their leader's name filled Hal's veins with ice, nearly started him shaking all the way down to his core. Fergus... Fergus would give Hal whatever he needed, whatever he wanted, would let him carry this little game of humanity as far as he dared take it because he would never question the social order between them -- Hal ruled; Fergus was ruled. But Mr. Snow... Mr. Snow had only ever had so much tolerance for Hal's attempts to recapture a simple human life, to bow out of the game for however long. He always found him, always dragged him back. And Hal always came, an obedient servant, because just like Fergus, he could no more refuse his master than he could stop the sun from rising and setting.

And Hal wasn't ready.

He wasn't ready to give this up. It was too new, too unexplored. He wanted more time. But, seeing that unadulterated panic once again rising in Hal's eyes and knowing even better than he did what he needed in that moment, Fergus continued talking with a wicked smirk on his lips, as if those last seven words hadn't meant a thing.

"...until then it's just me and this mouthy little dicksplash..."

Terrified eyes looking up at him with tears caught on clumped lashes. Howling grief at the realization that everything that had once tied him to a human life was dead, now, gone, irretrievable. Hal had known even then that this one was different. He would never be another Fergus -- no one would ever be another Fergus -- but he could be something else. Feeling his arousal spike at the pungent scent of fear in the air, Hal finally understood something which had, until then, eluded him. He understood then why Mr. Snow never left him on the long lead for too long... why he enjoyed it so, having Hal by his side. Hal was self-aware enough to recognize the reaction he'd just evoked in his newest recruit... to recognize it and hate him all the more for forcing that recognition. Even so, as much as he hated Cutler for it, Hal was a vampire cut from Mr. Snow's own cloth, molded and stretched into his very image... and he could no more resist that awed, worshipful terror than his master could.

Hal took Cutler's mouth that night, hard, violent, nearly suffocating the man in his urgency, as Fergus laughed and yelled encouragements from the other side of the room.

Intoxicating.

Hal gasped, came out of the vivid memory those words had invoked with a shudder and an almost painful throb of renewed arousal. The message was clear. Cutler was here. Fergus was here. Mr. Snow was coming. He could have them all... or none of them. He could choose Fergus, and Cutler... and Mr. Snow. Or he could choose Annie, and Eve... and Tom. His choice.

For now.

He had less than a day to decide. And as they parted ways, Hal knew only one thing for sure -- Fergus would see his will done, as he always had, no matter to what end it brought him... even his own.

And Hal would not weep for him.

He never did.

Re: (4/4)

[zoicite.livejournal.com]

oooh, seriously, put down those Les Mis boys! I want more! (See! Look at my icon! Alex orders you to pay more attention to Hal! And by extension Fergus! She's making Hal threaten you with his scary blunt teeth!)

Loved this! My only quibble is that I think you need a little more (I can't believe I'm telling you that you need more words ;) ) to go from "mouthy little dicksplash" into the next paragraph to indicate that we've jumped into a memory. I thought there was a paragraph missing at first and had to read it twice, but once I realized where you were going there: APPROVED. Heartily.

Re: (4/4)

[rchan.livejournal.com]

...yes, Alex. I'm feeling threatened. SO threatened. Uh, huh.

*snerts*

I have issues with this story because it seems to just happen in spurts and none of it is in ORDER and the non-linearity of it stresses me out. *makes faces* But, like I said, I'm willing to try to do both. ^_~ We'll see.

I'm glad you like it, though! ^_^ Especially because, let's face it. Mainly I'm writing this for me and you, at this point. ;) And, yeah, I know I need another paragraph there. That was one of those moments where I read it, went, "Well, fuck, that's not very clear, is it?" and then immediately said, "Eh, fuck it. I'll fix it before I post it for real, this is just a comment-fic." So... yeah. Sorry. Got lazy. :-P

I'm glad you approve of where it went after, though!

And, see? Kinky-sort-of-almost-sex. ^_^

Man, these boys are fucked up and I love them to bits and pieces for it. ^_^