Friending

Apr. 20th, 2016 01:27 am
citrusjava: (Default)
Hi :)
My journal is semi-friends-only. The fic is generally pubic, though sometimes I keep something more experimental locked.
If you'd like to be mutual friends, and believe we'd enjoy getting to know each other, that sounds great! Drop me a line, I usually friend back. I treasure honest, caring connections, and some people I've met on LJ have become very meaningful in my life.

ETA: Though, triggers. Some stuff about my triggers.
citrusjava: (Default)
As you miss SPN, you might wanna try Wynonna Earp (some spoilers for the pilot)
It's got the SPN things going -
Rural USA, creatures that can blend in, a little cowboy, a little western, messed up family+secrets, curse, normal+safe, sisters, magical gun, research clipping wall, 'babygirl'....

just with Jessica Jones starring as Dean

and done not so well
citrusjava: (Default)
"I mean, half of Jack Kerouac's book was also about trying to find a truck stop diner that offered soy milk"

(reminiscing about a road trip with feminists)
citrusjava: (Default)
Hi!
I'm glad to announce a new community, [livejournal.com profile] spncommunity!

I really miss having a casual place to chat about fandom, with the same people, regardless of followers or reblogs, without focusing on events or on making content - just a place to be together and be the wonderful fandom we are!

Want people to talk with when you're excited about a specific hug, or have a cracky theory about something from seven seasons ago? Have a fic idea nagging at you that you don't feel like actually writing? Want to discuss Sam's preference for eggs sunny side up? Do it!

Let's be a community!

(reblogs of this post much appreciated! :))
citrusjava: (Default)
Hi!
Someone gifted me with paid time for this account! That is so, so sweet and so, so kind!
I was so not expecting it!

Whoever you are, thank you so, so much!

Might have to get back to posting!

And if you want to (only!!!!), please tell me who you are! It's wonderful to know anybody even cares!
citrusjava: (Default)
The auction will close soon, and there is still time to offer your fanwork or to bid!
I wanted to do this one, but I don't feel I can cope with participating right now - but you totally should!
Some great writers, and some interested bidders!
And it's for [livejournal.com profile] nyxocity, who's written such awesome stuff and deserves help, too!

fanworksauction.livejournal.com/2354.html
citrusjava: (Default)
Text: What if, rather than interpreting literature that was written long ago against some imagined concept of what life was like back then, it were possible to
feed a book a drop of blood, and for a moment, the book will be refleshed and speak on its own terms?
Me: Cool! Creepy, but cool!
Text: The only true way to do that is Marxism


~

Text: I know what you're thinking!
Me: Is it that my tongue hurts from when I bit it?
Text: You think I suggest this method as merely supplementary rather than the absolute horizon of all readings and all interpretations!
Text: RAWR!


~

Text: You know, like Tiresias!
Me: Who? Am I supposed to know this person?
Text: Tiresias! With the blood drinking !
Me:
Wiki: Tiresias was a prophet of Apollo in Thebes, famous for clairvoyance and for being transformed into a woman for seven years
Me: Like Dean

~
citrusjava: (Default)
Come on, join! I need people to prompt me for, like, John/Dean bondage bonding or like PolyFamily's adventures hunting wendigo

citrusjava: (Default)
Just these two - Winchsters, and J2:

citrusjava: (Default)
Rating: soft R
Pairing(s): Read more... )
Spoilers: up to and including 11x14
Warnings: Read more... )Read more... )
Summary: At least Lucifer was never the only monster living in Sam's head.

coming is better than that. Anything is better than that
Read more... )
citrusjava: (Default)
Rating: soft R
Pairing(s): Sam/Lucifer, Sam/Dean
Spoilers: up to and including 11x14
Warnings: ptsd, past rape, not exactly comfort in your h/c, self loathing, shamealso - this can be read as very anti Dean. I don't exactly men it that way, it's a story of a moment, not the whole picture. But if that bothers you - be warned.
Summary: At least Lucifer was never the only monster living in Sam's head.

That night, alone, Sam dared to look, to touch the thought -

Had Dean not been in trouble that moment, 'gotta save Dean', to carry him through that moment....

Lucifer.

There.

In Sam again. Touching him, making him scream.

Felt like the end of everything. No point fighting anymore, never was.

Distraction from the stark dread and hopelessness, had him reaching into his pants.

Coming is better than that. Self loathing means there is at least someone there. Anything is better. Disgust. It should be disgust. Shame. Being like this - being turned on by this, he'd mostly forgiven himself that. Been turned on by worse.

But he deserved no forgiveness for being Lucifer's bitch.

Ten seconds around him topside and Lucifer in him again.

It wasn't even compulsion - he might recognize compulsion, might be able to work with it.
This was not even that.


A moment around him and Sam was offering his soul to him, take it, take it, please.

It was like Stanford, like Sam could fight it. It wasn't even compulsion. The world would rearrange itself to make things right. Nothing about Sam mattered but who he was made for.

Self loathing added an edge, sticky on his hand.

What if Dean called through Sam's door, came in. What if Dean held Sam’s face, held Sam through it. What if Dean kissed Sam and told him he was worth living. Was Dean’s. Again, like he once used to ....

Sam curled around the thought, around his bunched up blanket.

He had always, every moment of his life, been a bit more Dean's.


citrusjava: (Default)
Did Sam really just say "Do you want to talk about it?" to Dean friggin Winchester?
Is Sam the new vessel?
citrusjava: (Default)
Title: Beautiful on the Inside
Pairing: Anna/Ruby
Rating: R
Words: about 1000
Warnings: Vessel sex, true form sex, unnegotiated kink, mild: blood play, unsafe kink, verbal humiliation, self harm, drug use, careless mention of past breach of body autonomy.... weird things.... Unbetaed

Note: This is for the beloved and wonderful [livejournal.com profile] balder12 - hope you like it, BB!

Summary : Ruby isn't naked, like Anna. She's wearing her meatsuit, the way Anna likes




Anna is milk and honey, plains and horizon. Ruby floats in her, hair silking, slipping, slithering around her, caressing her shoulders.
Ruby isn't naked, like Anna. She's wearing her meatsuit, the way Anna likes. It makes her feel gorgeous and and naughty dressing up for Anna, knowing how much Anna wants it. Angels and their fetishes, she knows. But Anna's so pure, it makes kinks interesting again.

Ruby walks around the rim of Anna, ground meeting to support the arch of her foot, hold the curve of her toe. Ruby picks up speed, and her steps echo in the land, or maybe the sounds are Anna's delight. The banks are pooling liquid, Ruby's prints filling, softening, and Ruby stumbles through it, Anna pleasantly slippery between her toes. She makes a quick sprint, smiling, and jumps, crash-slides across it, picking up speed, laughs slick and sweet and filthy. Lands on Anna's bank, covered in Anna, hair sticking to her grin, feet dipping in the lake.

"I'm just gonna lie here and make my fragile human form quiver" she informs. American English, authentic, almost the real deal. It makes Anna squirm. Ruby knows Anna is listening, but can't reply, if she doesn't want to break Ruby's vessel. Just has to stay quiet and gentle under Ruby. It makes Ruby squirm. Anna would stay quiet even if she didn't worry about the meatsuit's well being, would never want to break this. You need to be pretty dedicated to your kink for fetish tourism, and Anna's remade her life around it, just to live among humans.

"You can't get this body off, Anna" Ruby says. Sweet heavenly colonialist. Ruby likes this body for being soft, comfortable and hers alone, after hell. It is extremely useful, too.
Anna likes this body for being exotic.
"You're too foreign, you're not human, can't even communicate".

Ruby dips her arm up to the elbow in Anna. Non just Anna's juices, but Anna herself, sentient, as Ruby uses her to slick herself.


"You Can't get this body off" Ruby repeats, ignoring the way this body swells and thumps around her fingers. "But you could get me off". Anna must notice it as well, curved around every dip of her . They are fucking this vessel together, inside and out.

"You're so angelic, Anna. So you know what I've been doing - you know what I like. Everybody in heaven does". Ruby feels around for Anna's blade. No angel would be without one in these days of unrest, regardless of form. It meets her hand. "Did you ever watch me? Ever want to be back down on earth, to taste for yourself?" It's awkward to use a blade this long,but Ruby can deal with weapons. She uses Anna's blade to make a long, shallow cut across her arm. "Did you wonder how angels react to demon blood? What it could do for you?"

The ground quivers, pulls away, sways, Ruby cradled, cupped, held, but her arm untouched.

"Did you stay there alone, wondering whether it could dim th e glare of your grace a bit, the grace they shoved into you? Make you feel more yourself again?" Cuts another thin line, across the curve and dip of her belly. Presses her lips, open mouthed, to her arm, making a show of taking it in, soft, tasting it. She likes the flavor of her blood in this vessel. Adds, offhand - "Or maybe it'll just get you high". she smiles, but it doesn't come out the practiced seductive smile, just the shy dark one that always met her in the mirror unbidden, always too much her own .


She could just turn around and dip her arm into the lake, simple, have her way, done. Instead she slashes a long cut across her chest, slow, slow and deliberate. The world feels like it is leaning in to watch, mesmerized, motionless. The ground istelf holding its breath. Ruby reaches her nipple, blood gems rising on her skin, transparent.




A pause, then the world tilts, Ruby slides into the folds of Anna, blade safely removed, blood smearing, licked off in tingling burns, grace-cold, wild grin against Anna's curves sticking to her smile, warm, her entire world.... Anna's pool is blush, now, Ruby can't say whether it's her own blood mingling with the essence of Anna, or Anna's reaction to it. The water is building a rhythm to it, fast. Ruby's blood flow brings heartbeats.


The whole lake thumps around her. Her breasts shine in the pearly red, slippery, sensual, comical. Ruby experiments, moves an arm through the liquid, fragrant and weirdly heavy, and Anna ripples around her, shivering small waves in the rhythm. She wriggles, splashes and kicks. The lake gasps in surprise, maybe pleasure or pain. Ruby wants Anna to tear this disguise off her already .

Anna tosses her gently out to the water's surface, slick like before, and Ruby slides across it, wind in her face, drying her hair. Tries to imagine the multiple awarenesses of droplets flying, surrounded in crisp air, lake rippling hard, the feeling of Roby's blood seeping in, Anna soaking, covering and beating with Ruby's body, this vessel that Anna loves, what it must be like to sync heartbeats when neither of them really uses blood - not in that way .


Ruby breathes in wonder. Within the heartbeat, red darkening into it's depths, inviting, pumping, swirls a huge whirlpool. Ruby's mouth goes dry at its magnitude, the power running through it . She circles its rim with her momentum, not pulled it. Puts her fingers in the flow. It sucks her fingers with force, and she smiles, breathless. Likes the way people get, on her blood. "Yes" she says, for whatever angelic requirements she doesn't want to have to deal with. The speed of her glide increases, then she is in free air - over the middle of Anna.


She smiles, and dives.
citrusjava: (Default)
The Karin's POV - life of enslavement, being forced to kill and kill, and no hunters are gonna save hir. Only those idiots addressing hir by the name of hir species, reciting accusations based on three
minutes with Wiki like they can actually understand

~

Kinda want Mellssa to find Becky and start a coven or a Bachelor viewing group or just - you know, something involving happies and ice cream and support!
It's a little bit weird for me that they did pretty similar things (though hers was maybe more understandable ) , and the show treated them so so very differently....


~


IDK, I liked Gladys. I don't know why she was there at all, plot-wise. Maybe she has her own reasons. Maybe not. I'd like to know.

~

You know I want Wincest - kissing, important talk - there raw material there for some good fics!
citrusjava: (Default)
(criticism in the first paragraph, but bottom line I loved)


Hey, I actually kinda loved the ep!
I mean, I recognized the writers pretty much for sure by the name and the teaser, so my expectations were very low (and they didn't disappoint, with the delightful women killing, totally cool to be schtuping your let's assume of age employee who totally wanted it and apparently had no connections but you , dude berating a woman for not being enough of a feminist)

-

BUT! I lover the rock-paper-scissors, and Jensen did a very good job on that with the twirl and the curtain thing YAY :DD
AND
the conversation in the end YES YES the honesty and compassion and
- like early seasons they are on the same side and care about each other even if they are moved by uncontrollable forces both epic and emotional.... YESS

and them talking - sort of - about experiences of basically rape they both had yes yes yes yes - this is groundbreaking, this is SPN, and Winchesters! - This is what I keep pining for !!!!1111 yass1


ETA: Also, and this is really a credit for season 11, I want Cas back, where is Cas, stop not letting us know about Cass!

ETA :D
Seriously, has Dean/Jensen been that vulnerable since Carver even became show runner?
And to SAM??
citrusjava: (Default)
I just realized something!

I was watching Jane the Virgin - there was a bit of character trivia added a few eps ago a character's alarm clock ) - and I kept telling myself - no way, can't be sure it was only introduced then - could be from way way back! And I kept telling myself - how way back, this is a newish show! But then I kept feeling that I couldn't know no way no way etc - and sure could be wrong - bt this is probably because


I'm a frigging SPN fun
citrusjava: (Default)
OK, so - I need to reply to people- and write papers and things -
so instead - this -
(I'm so not up to things I am supposed o be doing.... sorry.... ) -

Rose and Peony from Spindle's End
I don't want to give too much away, but I love unlikely friendship, and friendship between women, especially the sort who are supposed to hate each other, in tropes
When they finished laughing they were on their way to being not just friends, but the dearest of friends, the sort of friends whose lives are shaped by the friendship

Steven and Connie
It is not a perfect relationship, and I do worry for them sometimes, but each of them is so much their own person, and then they are so devoted to each other - they're so so awesome!


Legolas and Gimli

I mean, overcoming history and war to find the beauty in the differences and similarities between you, then planning to spend years traveling the world together, learning about each other's worlds? How gorgeous, loving and gentle ....

Elves of any kind are strange folk. Yet you comfort me. Where you go, I will go

Thingumy and Bob
It was so nice to sleep in the pittle lockets


Abbi and Ilana

They just - are so themselves and such parts of each other's lives, and so easily honest and enjoy each other even at hard times....




So many others!


Feel like sharing yours?
citrusjava: (Default)
(all the people I have not replied to - sorry! These have not been the easies few days....)


I didn't particularly like Eileen - I didn't dislike her, and the actress seems cool - but beyond what the actress brought to the role, mostly all we got was "she's so badass".... I find that so - just - I would have appreciated more. The representation seems to have been good/appreciated, so yay on that, but come on, please, you're Robbie fuckin Thompson, please put more into this ep's characters....??

Mildred made me super uncomfortable - had there not been the thing abou Dean yes being interested, it would have read like nothing more than "old people are gross".... and even that was shaky, fetishized, and I felt was - like the people making this were not exactly sure whether it was a joke or for real ? I'm *sure* she was written to say the opposite, but for me it did not read that way .... and again, badass = very boring characterization, problematic to connect with etc.....

I never connected with Alex, I only connected with Clair on her first ep (mostly), nd I kinda try to like Jody, it's not that I dislike her, but again, I like the actress, could do with more characterization....

After the new ep is definitely would not want the Wayward Daughters theoretical spinoff....
I've watched the new ep a second time instead of sleeping to make sure - I didn't miss some awesome goodness, but it is just so badly written and just .... no....

Am I really the only person who feels this way?
citrusjava: (Default)
Title: Two days from then, around, 07:30
Rating: gen
Character(s): Amelia
Words: ~700
Warnings: Read more... )
Notes: this is for [personal profile] kalliel - this is not the I was supposed to write, I hope it's still a bit enjoyable (though it's ok if not!).
This is very rough but I'll probably leave it like that - I like it enough to post
though it's ok if i am the only one.... Also - I feel like I might have stolen one of the lines here, if you recognize it, please let me know so I can return it home.



Summary: Why Amelia left for Texas

She'd planned it for a long while. Not the sort of planning that's about tickets and movers and dates, the sort of planning where you fantasize for four months about setting fire to your house, and the neighbor's, and running and running forever, and four months in you realize you're ready to go, all you need is your car keys and you run.

It was the pity she couldn't stand- that was true - but that was only part of it. It was the constant reminder. She'd lost him. He'd left her- just up and left her, no warning. That is- that's a lie- there were a thousand little warnings. In the slant to his tone, in the way his palm felt on her belly. In telling her- I'm unhappy, Amelia, I hate it here.

Everybody was unhappy.

No one left, really left.

Enlisted, like olden days, like she was the woodsmith's daughter and he needed out of an arranged marriage. She'd loved him so simply, before. Can't believe she'd even done something so wholeheartedly. Tried since to talk herself out of naivety, gotta stop, like everybody does . He's not coming back to you, don't let yourself hope for it. Be smart, Amelia, don't be an idiot, please, she begs herself. Still.

She didn't even have time for shock when he left, was still standing there hands wet clutching her dish towel for weeks. Don was off, kisses and hugs and a duffle, because there are not enough roads in the desert and trolleys get trapped in the sands - not even a letter yet and her mind filled with images of that trolley wheel sand-logged, hands still holding her dishtowel and she was coming back home with her paper bag, didn't know how to buy groceries for one, seemed pointless to cook for no one - not even a letter yet and he has no internet still - or he'd have texted her he would have texted her.

Mrs Snyder said hi, rummaging in her mommy bag - Amelia expected words about trash day or porch lights, about painting the front of their house pastel to match the neighborhood plan, and she'd be making those decisions on her own now. Mrs Snyder asked instead about Don, already went over that, didn't want to do it out again. Looks like she might make it a coffee invitation, they'd never gotten along, come have dinner with me and the kids some night, a neighborly patriotic thing that no one would need to follow up on - instead she pulled out a copy of Trauma and Recovery. Squeeze Amelia's arm sympathetically and Amelia's throat clenched with bile. The end of their life. "How bad do you think Don's flight was?" she deadpanned - but Mrs Snyder had left, family matters, offspring making his proud way to the middle of the road, only a moment unsupervised.

Don was missing, and she hated him for putting this unchangeable thing in her life, always, always going to be there, wanted to kick herself in the kneecaps for not knowing, not running on time, for never being this American wife right. The officer at her door barely legal to drink and she wanted to slap him hard and ask whether he was good to his girlfriend, slap him and tell him and America hands off my man you homewrecking slut.


She'd wanted to go to Texas for so long, fantasized about big people and big hearts, all of those families, surely she could find her own. Big dogs jumping of the back of a truck, jumping into the kid's pool like on all those YouTube videos, and she'd finally know the difference between normal BBQ and the real sort she'd never tried.

Once she was there, she was unable to say why she'd found her way to this big empty desert, to this town named after a Muppet.


Then a haunted eyed man hit a dog and messed with her AC, and she wore his shirt, and she needed that book again, and she knew better than hoping, in retrospect.
citrusjava: (Default)
Title: Two days from then, around, 07:30
Rating: gen
Character(s): Amelia
Words: ~700
Warnings: slurs, fantasy fire/violence, military canon badness, unbeta'ed
Notes: this is for [livejournal.com profile] kalliel - this is not the I was supposed to write, I hope it's still a bit enjoyable (though it's ok to say if not!).
This is very rough but I'll probably leave it like that - I like it enough to post
though it's ok if i am the only one.... Also - I feel like I might have stolen one of the lines here, if you recognize it, please let me know so I can return it home.



Summary: Why Amelia left for Texas

She'd planned it for a long while. Not the sort of planning that's about tickets and movers and dates, the sort of planning where you fantasize for four months about setting fire to your house, and the neighbor's, and running and running forever, and four months in you realize you're ready to go, all you need is your car keys and you run.

It was the pity she couldn't stand- that was true - but that was only part of it. It was the constant reminder. She'd lost him. He'd left her- just up and left her, no warning. That is- that's a lie- there were a thousand little warnings. In the slant to his tone, in the way his palm felt on her belly. In telling her- I'm unhappy, Amelia, I hate it here.

Everybody was unhappy.

No one left, really left.

Enlisted, like olden days, like she was the woodsmith's daughter and he needed out of an arranged marriage. She'd loved him so simply, before. Can't believe she'd even done something so wholeheartedly. Tried since to talk herself out of naivety, gotta stop, like everybody does . He's not coming back to you, don't let yourself hope for it. Be smart, Amelia, don't be an idiot, please, she begs herself. Still.

She didn't even have time for shock when he left, was still standing there hands wet clutching her dish towel for weeks. Don was off, kisses and hugs and a duffle, because there are not enough roads in the desert and trolleys get trapped in the sands - not even a letter yet and her mind filled with images of that trolley wheel sand-logged, hands still holding her dishtowel and she was coming back home with her paper bag, didn't know how to buy groceries for one, seemed pointless to cook for no one - not even a letter yet and he has no internet still - or he'd have texted her he would have texted her.

Mrs Snyder said hi, rummaging in her mommy bag - Amelia expected words about trash day or porch lights, about painting the front of their house pastel to match the neighborhood plan, and she'd be making those decisions on her own now. Mrs Snyder asked instead about Don, already went over that, didn't want to do it out again. Looks like she might make it a coffee invitation, they'd never gotten along, come have dinner with me and the kids some night, a neighborly patriotic thing that no one would need to follow up on - instead she pulled out a copy of Trauma and Recovery. Squeeze Amelia's arm sympathetically and Amelia's throat clenched with bile. The end of their life. "How bad do you think Don's flight was?" she deadpanned - but Mrs Snyder had left, family matters, offspring making his proud way to the middle of the road, only a moment unsupervised.

Don was missing, and she hated him for putting this unchangeable thing in her life, always, always going to be there, wanted to kick herself in the kneecaps for not knowing, not running on time, for never being this American wife right. The officer at her door barely legal to drink and she wanted to slap him hard and ask whether he was good to his girlfriend, slap him and tell him and America hands off my man you homewrecking slut.


She'd wanted to go to Texas for so long, fantasized about big people and big hearts, all of those families, surely she could find her own. Big dogs jumping of the back of a truck, jumping into the kid's pool like on all those YouTube videos, and she'd finally know the difference between normal BBQ and the real sort she'd never tried.

Once she was there, she was unable to say why she'd found her way to this big empty desert, to this town named after a Muppet.


Then a haunted eyed man hit a dog and messed with her AC, and she wore his shirt, and she needed that book again, and she knew better than hoping, in retrospect.

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