Fic: The Sons & Daughters of Hungry Ghosts. Inception, Mal/Dom/Saito.
Title: The Sons & Daughters of Hungry Ghosts
Author: Aja
Pairing(s): all permutations of Mal/Dom/Saito
Rating: R
Word Count: 5,500
Warnings: mindfuckery, dark themes, mild descriptions of graphic imagery, mild dubious consent
Summary: Mal becomes Orpheus to save Dom, or maybe just to save herself.
Written for .
Challenge art is by koushi; view/review it here!
Read More
fic: reason #398534 why Monte Carlo is never a good idea
So far in this fandom, i have consistently shown that i can only produce fic while drunk, drunk, or drunk. To this tally we can now add: while high on Vicodin.
This is a twitter fic that mirabellawotr told me to write. Apparently, she tells me to do things and I do things, because 1600 words eked out in 140-character-limit tweets later, I am bringing my shame to LJ to tell you all, DO NOT DO THIS AT HOME. And by “this” i mean, “please do not spam your twitter followers with terrible unbeta’d clichefic written off the cuff while you are nursing a burgeoning career as a dope fiend.”
But anyway, here is 1600 words of fake boyfriend twitterfic. And no, it hasn’t been beta’d, it’s twitterfic. The amount of self-loathing I feel right now is roughly equivalent to the amount that Arthur is going to feel when he wakes up in the morning and realizes that he got totally sloshed and pawed Eames’ Cavalli and Eames let him because he’s a posh slut.
(Eames’ Cavalli, btw, is this number from the Fall 2011 collection, because of course that is what he would wear to a gay cruise night in Monte Carlo, come on. Have I mentioned I was high when I wrote this.)
right, okay. onward.
Read MoreFic: Goes Down Easy. Arthur/Eames, NC-17, 5,000 words.
So, I’m supposed to be reviewing Moon Child instead of writing porn, but I said that if I magically was inspired to write something that I’d post it no matter what; and there’s this whole thing where Tom Hardy is a mythical being?
See also:
And now that I have your attention–porn.
Goes Down Easy.
5,000 words, NC-17, by Aja.
fic: untitled, Fei/Min (Miss A, K-pop femslash)
i decided to finish the half-written Fei/Min ficlet I’ve had in my moleskine for two weeks, just below a chart that has “Regency AU” on one half of the page and “Cockslut Arthur” on the other. dklfsd. god it wound up taking me all day, it’s not beta’d or even spell-checked, but, look, the point is, here’s 1200 words i didn’t have before.
Read Morei wish i had SOMETHING ELSE TO PUT HERE but it’s really just boring badficlets
if you really want to read something good GO CHECK OUT
I continue apace with my attempts to cure writer’s block by writing absolute crap whenever I can. D:
- originally posted here on Bina’s journal in celebration of the epic defeat of Tom Hardy:
Read Morewriting total crap = better than nothing; writer’s block, day gazillionty
T
his is Miss A. I LOVE THEM. This was their debut, in July of this year. In order of their solos in this video, the members are:
- Min – the short, fierce dancer with the short hair and the fabulous voice and the incredible body and the world-class talent and the EVERYTHING
- Suzy – the sweetheart with the pony-tail
- Jia – the pink-haired dancer with the fantastic legs
- Fei – the tall, gorgeous singer with her hand on Min’s ass at 2:35, and then again at 3:02 
DDDD
I ship Fei/Min so hard it HURTS. So I tried and tried to write shitty fic and finally – ugh you guys, i have never been this blocked before in my life, it took fucking days to wring out this piece of crap and i just feel like, haha, why bother showing this to anyone, it’s so awful, everything i write lately is so awful 
(((((((( – but here it is, for relative values of “finished.” ugh why is this so hard. so so so so so so so hard, and so painfully slow, like driving nails through my own hand without a hammer. writer’s block i hate you i hate you i hate you.
A
- things organized neatly
- efficiency
- being prepared
- cheesy emo post-punk-that’s-not-really, like Dashboard Confessional
tomatoes- fresh strawberries
- biographies
- surfing and skateboarding.
- lists
- comfy fabric
- the word “comfy”
- Rodgers and Hammerstein
Arthur hates:
- being told he has no imagination
- cynical indie crap
tomatoes- his ex-girlfriend, who always made him feel like the worst version of himself, like, just, such an asshole.
- the way even after seven years he’s sometimes still in love with her
- Cobb, half the time
- classical music
- people wasting his time
- the way Eames looks at him, sometimes, like he just knows Arthur, like–like he’s got Arthur all figured out, which is just such total bullshit. And, okay, Arthur makes lists, yes, and Arthur wears suits, okay, because that’s what Arthur does. And he knows that the fact he keeps a moleskine on him at all times creates an unavoidable cliche; he knows this. He knows how he must look in his button-ups with his rolled-up sleeves and his pressed pants and his creased forehead. He knows what Eames thinks he is. Sometimes Cobb interrupts him, cuts him off in the middle of a sentence, and Arthur can feel Eames raising an eyebrow at the back of Arthur’s head, like he’s just waiting for Arthur to be exactly what Eames has already decided he is. Like he’s wondering–well, all those things Arthur knows he wonders about Arthur.
And Arthur always wants to grab him and tell him that it’s none of Eames business, that he is none of Eames’ business.
Except for how, sometimes when the two of them come together in the dreamspace, it’s so brilliant that Arthur almost wishes he were.
Arthur hopes:
that they can
