March 9, 2016 • 6:12 pm
subject: (fic) (Transformers G1) Broken Music Box - Jazz/Prowl 1/1

Broken Music Box
by KC

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Jazz/Prowl

Warnings: some war violence, hurt mechs

Summary: Two mechs sparked for mere entertainment become two more casualties of Functionism, the belief that every bot has its place according to its function. Like two mechanical birds in a cage, they watch the world change around them and hope for the day when their cage snaps open, not realizing what violence that will bring.

The music box stood for more than a vorn...Collapse )

The music box stood for more than a vorn in the arboretum of Tower Delus. The chamber stretched nearly twenty meters high, a curved dome of white glass that caught the starlight and gave the room a soft glow that reflected off the silver streaks set into the wall, the silver path set into the floor. Ebony stone, carefully carved and polished, lined the paths and ornamented the walls, ringing the music box and setting the boundary between the audience and the two bots within the box.

An expensive installation, the box was made of black steel nearly four meters high and consisted of two chambers--one above, one below. Just before a performance, a tower servant would very theatricality turn the shiny key almost as large as he was in the back of the box, and then the top chamber would lift up, revealing a small mech in the center.

White with black markings to match the box, the mech would lift his head and sing. Sometimes he moved his hands or leaned back to better enhance his vocals. He could do little else, welded to the base that he sat on, and when the chamber closed again, Jazz bowed his head and vanished with a heavy vent that contrasted with the light tone of his voice, vanishing into the darkness lit only by his faint visor.

Beneath him, in the unseen chamber, a second mech operated the numerous flywheels, levers and gears that would send a thousand small bells chiming, a hundred steel marbles along a tightly timed route to strike notes on a steel keyboard with string assortment. The music box could play an infinite number of songs, and every string had to stay tuned, every marble had to move at the right moment, every lever had to move at the right time. Within the chamber, Prowl sat surrounded by moving parts, perfectly still, his cortex wired into the box's mechanisms to keep it ordered.

Often, before the new Prime had taken office, Prowl and Jazz had roamed the tower, exploring the different levels and looking out of windows that looked over all of Praxus. In the darkness, the millions of tiny lights looked like stars, looked like marbles running along narrow routes, surrounding them in a music box as huge as the planet itself. Jazz listened to every conversation in the halls, made friends with some of the tower mechs who were willing to lower themselves to talk to the entertainment, and Prowl turned Jazz's improvised songs into the numbers and beats needed to play the tune.

Functionism seemed so far away at the time.

Always a cult stewing beneath the corruption of the Senate, Functionism was something that the tower mechs should worry about, not the mechs content to sit inside their music box. Their few friends admitted that the Functionist creed of "a place for every bot, a need for every bot" made them feel criticized for being wealthy--that worse, the Functionists were gaining favor among the very poor who were promised energon and safe haven.

A vorn passed--a vorn of singing, wandering the bright tower halls, enjoying the gifts left behind by their adoring audience. Politics didn't matter. Functionist sympathizers, Autobot officers and Kaonite top ranked gladiators all left datapads or synth treats. No matter who gained power, every faction enjoyed music.

To their credit, the Functionist adherents listened to a performance before coming to a decision, agreeing that the best place for Jazz and Prowl was inside their box.


When the Functionists had him riveted into place, Jazz did not go willingly, kicking and fighting and even biting one of the big mechs forcing him down on his pedestal. While the other two mechs worked the fasteners, Jazz howled, screamed, worked his fingers into one of their armor joints and ripped out cords.

"We do not blame you for your anger," he was told. "It is simply hard for you to accept, being so used to the corruption of wasteful wealth."

"You will come to accept your function."

"This is your place. You will perform to your ability and receive to your need."

Knowing he would not win, Prowl went willingly, sitting still as their rivets pierced his frame and affixed him within the music box. The gray mechs, so well intentioned towards him, ensured that their energon ration would be included in the city deliveries every cycle, and then sealed the door after him.

For a cycle, locked in his dark chamber, Jazz keened until his vocalizer cracked. The tower medic, with a Functionist adherent behind him, admonished Jazz to calm down and accept his function--and when the Functionist was not looking, injected Jazz with an illegal slurry of nanites that slowed his cortex enough that Jazz's functions turned sluggish and he slipped into a long, long recharge.

"Wish I could do more for you," the medic whispered. "But you'll have to do for yourself here on out."

After several cycles, Jazz woke.

In his mouth, he held the sharp fragment of steel he'd bitten off.

Prowl? You still with me?

I would not leave you.

Jazz did not speak for a long moment.

You got anything with you down there?

No. I can reach nothing beyond the levers of the machine.

Jazz tipped the steel between his fingers, flipping it back and forth. He could slide that steel across the energon cable in his throat and give himself a quick end. He could sit on his perch and sing whenever his cage opened. Or he could wedge that steel under one of the mass of rivets holding him in place.

For the next vorn, Jazz sang. Keened at night, softly so no one but Prowl could hear. And bit by bit, worked each rivet up, one piece at a time.

He saw Mirage in the audience almost every shift. He saw the medbot in the back when the workers were allowed to come up. The looks on everyone's faceplate had washed out, faded to gray, until every single bot looked like they were sitting in their own cages, and around the arboretum, Functionists in long plasteel robes monitored Jazz performing his function, ensuring that every mech's need was fulfilled and performed to. And every shift, the box closed up around Jazz and locked him away from the world again.

He had no idea about the Senate, Autobots or Kaon sympathizers until the bombs began falling. A deep rumbling filled the tower, ominous as it crept closer and closer, preceded by the screaming of jets overhead. And then an explosion of chaos as glass shattered, steel folded in half and the music box went tumbling out of its ring, landing sideways.

Jazz woke up with a deep pain in his pedes and the uncomfortable sensation of resting on his shoulders. When he looked around, he found a spot of light from a crack running down the music box, and as he twisted around, he realized that he was off of his pedestal. He swept his hand over his pede, and a dozen broken rivets slid out of place. He'd removed enough that the violent toss of their box had sheared the rest out.

Prowl? Prowl, you still with me?

No answer. Jazz pushed the broken lid out of the way and pulled himself over the edge. His pedes refused to move, covered in oil and transfluid that had splashed from his pierced armor. He found the door and vented in relief. The same throw that freed him had also cracked the weakened seal on the welded door, and with a few good hits, it broke down the sides and fell open.

Prowl lay crumpled on his side, optics wide open in shock. Jazz's rivets had sheared. Prowl's rivets had left jagged wounds with large chunks of armor still fastened on the seat. His circuits and gears showed where the armor had broken away.

There was no time to keen. Jazz put Prowl over his shoulder and leaned on the box to stagger upright, take one shaky step forward. Outside he heard screams and roaring jets and more explosions, the screeching of steel and the billows of heat sending smoke up hundreds of meters into the sky. They had to move, and Jazz coughed as he walked, leaning against the wall. Glass crunched underfoot as he headed to the the door, then started toward where he knew the elevators stood.

Something came down the hall so fast that it nearly crashed into Jazz, turning at the last second. Jazz couldn't see it, but he did hear the heavy stomps of someone following. He vented in at the sight of the mech, a jet twice his size with its nosecone for its head and energon splashed on its hands, oil splashed across the red decals on its wings.

The jet spotted him and slightly altered its aim, coming at him with a nasty grin.

Worked down to a mere sliver, the bitten piece of steel came up in Jazz's hand. Looking as if he'd just put his hand on the other mechs's abdomen, Jazz fell sideways as the jet stumbled past him. As the jet screamed and tried to stop the fluid flowing out of its sliced cables, Jazz crawled up after its and sliced the exposed arterial cable in its lower pede.

The screaming slowed, quieted, faded to nothing, and the jet stopped moving.


The familiar voice made Jazz look up at Mirage, who shimmered into view. The noblemech came and helped him back up, then wordlessly shouldered Prowl between them. Jazz noticed the hunting rifle slung over his back and the bullet holes stitching down his dangling left arm.

"What happened?" Jazz asked.

"Decepticons," Mirage said as if that meant something. "They're taking revenge for Kaon."

Somehow the elevators still worked. When they stepped out, Jazz clung tighter to Prowl.

Mirage brought them out into fire and slagged steel. The vast city of lights had turned into a conflagration, black pavement thrown up beneath craters roaring fire and smoke. Broken mechs and grayed out frames lined the road, and in front of them, another mech crashed down from impossibly high. It screeched, cracked open and faded to gray as its systems ruptured.

"Stay close to the walls," Mirage said, his voice shaking. "Under the smoke."

They were hiding, Jazz realized. The screaming overhead was not just enraged jets.

Mirage seemed to know where he was, taking them around the tower down into the lower levels, down a street lift into a private highway. Jazz recognized the tower symbols under the splotches of oil and transfluid. From the dead mechs scattered around the road, he knew something terrible had swept through here.

"I don't have enough room for everyone!"

Jazz spotted the small white ambulance in the shadows, his grill flashing in dismay. Beside it, another ambulance revved, impatient to go.

"Glad to see more survivors," the medbot said, "but one of you better be driving."

"I can drive," Jazz said. "Won't like it none, but I can roll long as someone takes Prowl."

"Give him here," the medbot said. "And let's go."

Jazz waited to see Prowl safely stowed beside a little red and gray Praxian that had long gone past keening and now just stared at some point in the distance. And then Jazz transformed, twisting so his bent armor would slide into place, and drew even with Mirage.

"Think I owe you one," Jazz said.

"After you killed that conehead?" Mirage said. "You have a funny way of counting who owes who."

The highway ran for hundreds of kilometers beneath the surface, used to safeguard tower deliveries from thieves and tax collectors. Now Jazz fled along the dark road, their headlights barely cutting through the darkness.

Later on, he would learn that they were the only mechs who made it out.

In the vorn after, Jazz covered up his ragged scars with thick paint and snazzy singing. Unable to walk without pain, Prowl covered his wounds by sitting at a desk, hiding behind a datapad and smiling only when Jazz joined him again behind closed doors. Still performing together, Prowl calculated the perfect rhythm, the exact measure and meter for the tunes that Jazz played on the battlefield. The song was discordant, the atonal key of a broken music box, but it was their function, a thousand different notes at the right moment, played effortlessly.

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February 11, 2016 • 12:03 am
subject: Fic: 1% Explosion (Transformers G1)

1% Explosion
by KC

Summary: Sparked on a distant colony, Jazz is a low-caste fuse bot surviving the life-threatening boredom of mine work until it's all destroyed by war. He'll have to find other mechs who know how to dance.


Sparked on Colony Dis-9650, Jazz worked demolitions for almost fifty deca-cycles, slowly moving up in rank as clumsier bots died on the job. Setting explosions was the easiest part-drive in 'till the mine started to shake in time with his engine, then transform back to alt-mode. If that didn't make the cheap support beams collapse, then he lay the blasting capsule in a crevice and set the fuse.
The fuse was the important part...Collapse )

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September 13, 2015 • 4:09 am
subject: (fic) TMNT - Second Penny

Second Penny
by KC

Summary: As the fingers tested the edge, they slipped over and brushed across Leonardo’s mouth. Leonardo couldn’t help startling back. The motion faintly rustled the chain at his throat and made the door knock against its latch. He’d been leashed to the stall door, forced only an inch from the glory hole that Michelangelo had created, and the padlock knocked against his throat.

Vital Stats: (PWP) tcest (??? x Leonardo) gloryhole!Bondage (’cause there isn’t hardly any of this kink out there at all)

Note: This is really self-indulgent id-fic where Mikey puts a coin box on Leo and won’t let him go ‘till it’s got a dollar in change. Shut up, I like it. Dunno if I’ll write more on it, but I had to write it to get it out of my head.


The door opened. A sliver of light fell from the lair, spilling into the bathroom. Leonardo only spotted it from under the stall, a shadow that was one of his brothers in the doorway, and then the light vanished again.

Footsteps came nearer...Collapse )

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August 1, 2015 • 6:06 pm
subject: Drabble: LxR

“Fearless.” “Splinter Jr.” “Stick in the mud.” After crossing the city for half the night, enduring one snark after another, Leonardo turned on Raphael. Jumped him, knocked him hard to the cement of whatever rooftop they happened to be on…

“What the hell–” Raphael growled, rising up on his elbows. “You cheap son of a…”

Raphael’s jaw snapped closed when he saw his brother’s look. His eyes widened as his brother knelt down in front of him, hands on Raphael’s thighs to pin him down. Raphael’s face flushed hot down into his shell, his breath caught, and then his head fell back, no longer in control of himself.

When Leonardo finished and stood, rubbing his knuckles against the corner of his mouth, he glared at Raphael until his brother stood up, refusing to meet his look, following silently as his face continued to burn.

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June 29, 2015 • 7:37 am

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October 16, 2014 • 10:38 pm
subject: 30 Day TMNT Challenge #4--15 totally cheating. I have neglected posting my writing here (as usual) and I dun wanna do a separate entry for each. So here are more of the drabbles.

Warnings:'s still a little bloody.

Drabbles 4-15Collapse )

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August 18, 2014 • 10:57 pm
subject: (fic) Oath Breaker II: Dawn and Twilight pt. 20 and epilogue (Harry/Draco)

Oath Breaker II: Dawn and Twilight
by KC

Disclaimer: I wish I owned Harry, Draco and all the rest; they'd do a lot more stuff than they do in the books and it'd all be rated R through X. Alas, however, I do not.
Other info: Draco-centric. Sequel to Oath Breaker. Harry/Draco, Lucius/Narcissa/Severus
Summary: Harry learns to live with the Malfoys. The Malfoys learn to live with Harry. The rest of the world learns to deal.
Other Info: It's done. Finally. Any loose ends must remain unraveled, all errors unfixed.
If attempting to find all chapters, please use the tags at the bottom of the page.

Chapter 29 & EpilogueCollapse )

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May 20, 2014 • 8:33 pm


Yesterday I buried my cat.
When asked how deep I dug,
I held my hand just below my heart,
and even that, I dug carefully.
If I had let myself fall in,
I would never have climbed out again.

~KC, short for Kitty-Cat, just nigh 18 years~

8 twists of the knife | Penetrate me?

February 12, 2014 • 12:34 am
subject: 30 Day TMNT Challenge #3

Day 3: Your Favourite Human - Lotus Blossom

He learns stealth from a thief.

Not that he was a slouch before. Leonardo mastered the techniques of concealing himself, of misdirection, hiding behind the obvious door or locker or cabinet until his enemies look, and then—-he’s gone, watching them from the vent in the wall, masked within a dark supply closet. The places that his enemies call their own are riddled with equipment, machinery, fake offices. They provide him with plenty of cover, and he uses them as smoothly as if they were planned out for him in advance.

But she—-nameless thief that he spots one night—-she hasn’t mastered stealth. She breathes it, hidden in plain sight, not concealing herself but simply standing where no one looks.

ContinueCollapse )


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February 12, 2014 • 12:32 am
subject: 30 Day TMNT Challenge #2

2: Least Fave Turtle

He doesn’t expect the others to understand him. They don’t think like he does. Leonardo thinks with his body. So does Raphael. They both move easily together, all sharp turns and powerful thrusts. Donatello practices enough to keep up, does his time in the dojo, but they all know where his true talents lie. Once katas and sparring are done, after new lessons have been absorbed, he heads alone to his lab and absorbs himself in his engineering.

ContinueCollapse )


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February 10, 2014 • 12:02 am
subject: 30 Day TMNT Challenge

1. Fave Turtle

He practices more than his brothers, more than Splinter demands. One more kata, one more drill, one more practice flip of the sword—-his fingers grow numb and his knuckles bleed. They all nick themselves from time to time. They’ve all learned to ignore little injuries, except Michelangelo, who tries to use them to get out of practice.

ContinueCollapse )

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February 6, 2014 • 10:02 pm
subject: can't gripe without it turning into a damn essay

Dear TMNT BNFs, specifically the old fen and their fanpoodles who are ironically now mostly out of the fandom,

Remember Twisted Autumn, that fanfic you dogpiled on me for not listening to you oh so wise ladies when you said Raphael was an asshole and how dare I not treat your constructive criticism as points to make changes in my own damn narrative? Because obviously I am a bitch and an obsessive diva who should change to fit other people’s ideas and opinions.

It’s been translated. Into Italian. At least one fan liked it enough to put in that kind of work, and other fans enjoyed her translation.

I’ve thought about this a long time.Collapse )

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January 2, 2014 • 6:42 am
subject: A Heads Up

It feels a little weird to do this because I don't really feel bad per se. I'm not deleting my LJ, but I am cancelling anymore payments. I will likely update on rare occasions when I finish chapters here or there, but I barely see anyone from the past still posting here. Not too surprising, considering the "new" management of the past few years.

So if anyone wants to grab any of my old icons, images, pics, etc., best to check my scrapbook before Nov. 2014. Everything will vanish that month.

14 twists of the knife | Penetrate me?

December 26, 2013 • 1:15 am
subject: I swear, she sounds like a Christian Dolores Umbridge

“Some of the new White Trash religions people concoct are parody-worthy but at the same time not a laughing matter. Goddess worship is all the rage, and its devotees fondly believe they are following something quite ancient. But they are deluded. For one thing, they got their goddess all wrong. The girls on the popular ’90s TV show Friends called on the goddess for help getting dates. Feminist goddess worshippers go howl at the moon, or some such foolishness, to invoke her.”

-White Trash Religion in a Nutshell: Proud, Ignorant, And Messy

My god did this one just piss me the fuck off. I left the long comment at the end of it, but damn if this ain’t the biggest reason I stopped being Republican and went full on Libertarian.


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December 8, 2013 • 9:03 am
subject: (fic) Dark Windows - TMNT, sequel to Clogged Drain

Dark Windows
by KC

Summary: (sequel to Clogged Drain) After the haunting of their home, the four head out to the farm to rest and recouperate, but there are no city lights here, and the forest is deep and dark. Ghosts are not all that may lurk in the darkness, watching them through the thin glass.

Disclaimer: I do not own the turtles nor do I make any money off of this.

Rating: R for violence, creepy

Other Info: Inspired by tons of creepypasta.

Part 1Collapse )


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December 3, 2013 • 2:05 am
subject: Revision and re-writing

Writing is a process, although everyone has their own individual style of revision, and certainly not always the one pushed by teachers or professors. Often high school teaches the formal, academic style of the writing process: outline, detailed outline, rough draft, revised draft, final copy.

I was the type of student who did her rough draft first, then made a quick outline, then did a quick edit and turned in a typed, barely revised copy. I got A's because I have a strong sense for the patterns, rhythms and styles in English literature. These grades also did me a disservice.

For years, I had no clue what real revision meant.Collapse )


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November 15, 2013 • 7:45 pm
subject: sorry sorry sorry

School has kicked my ass so thoroughly that I'm barely able to scroll tumblr, much less talk or barely write. My writing has centered on Transformers of late,'s admittedly one of the more interesting fandoms I've ever been in.


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September 18, 2013 • 2:03 am
subject: (fic) Oath Breaker II: Dawn and Twilight pt. 19 (Harry/Draco)

Oath Breaker II: Dawn and Twilight
by KC

Disclaimer: I wish I owned Harry, Draco and all the rest; they'd do a lot more stuff than they do in the books and it'd all be rated R through X. Alas, however, I do not.
Other info: Draco-centric. Sequel to Oath Breaker. Harry/Draco, Lucius/Narcissa/Severus
Summary: Harry learns to live with the Malfoys. The Malfoys learn to live with Harry. The rest of the world learns to deal.
Other Info: If attempting to find all chapters, please use the tags at the bottom of the page.

Chapter 19Collapse )


9 twists of the knife | Penetrate me?

September 7, 2013 • 9:54 pm
subject: good, exhausting, body-shattering week of teaching

I saw a statistic on Cracked that 70% of American workers don’t like their jobs, and 20% actively hate their jobs. I am one of the lucky 10%. I’m also an outlier about making a decent income with a liberal arts degree, but then I also went into English knowing there was a teacher shortage at the time. And the masters secured my position.

Anyway, long and hard day of teaching. Collapse )


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August 18, 2013 • 8:49 am
subject: (fic) Transformers - Spec Ops Mission 98 (7-10)

Spec Ops Mission 98: Jazz’s Interrogation at Soundwave’s Pedes

Pairings: Soundwave/Jazz, Prowl/Jazz, who knows what else

Rating: T for Teen

Warnings: a little bondage, some very trashy pulp fiction here and there, some mentions of force downloading

Summary: Surrounded by the torrid fiction of his fellow Autobots, Jazz uncovers a Decepticon plot hidden amidst their written fantasies. Can the Spec Ops commander turn this plot of high treason into a narrative…of love? OR Jazz is surrounded by a bunch of perverted writers, and wouldn’t you know it, one of them is a Decepticon.

Chapters 7-10Collapse )


1 twist of the knife | Penetrate me?

August 11, 2013 • 7:59 pm
subject: (fic) Transformers - Spec Ops Mission 98 (4-6)

Spec Ops Mission 98: Jazz’s Interrogation at Soundwave’s Pedes

Pairings: Soundwave/Jazz, who knows what else

Rating: T for Teen

Warnings: a little bondage, some very trashy pulp fiction here and there

Summary: Surrounded by the torrid fiction of his fellow Autobots, Jazz uncovers a Decepticon plot hidden amidst their written fantasies. Can the Spec Ops commander turn this plot of high treason into a narrative…of love? OR Jazz is surrounded by a bunch of perverted writers, and wouldn’t you know it, one of them is a Decepticon.

Chapters 4-6Collapse )


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August 8, 2013 • 3:59 pm
subject: (fic) Transformers - Spec Ops Mission 98 (1-3)

Spec Ops Mission 98: Jazz’s Interrogation at Soundwave’s Pedes

Pairings: Soundwave/Jazz, who knows what else

Rating: T for Teen

Warnings: a little bondage later on, some very trashy pulp fiction here and there

Summary: Surrounded by the torrid fiction of his fellow Autobots, Jazz uncovers a Decepticon plot hidden amidst their written fantasies. Can the Spec Ops commander turn this plot of high treason into a narrative…of love? OR Jazz is surrounded by a bunch of perverted writers, and wouldn’t you know it, one of them is a Decepticon.

Chapters 1-3Collapse )


2 twists of the knife | Penetrate me?

July 6, 2013 • 10:21 am
subject: not on because...

My ASUS died and I'm on my new Vaio. I didn't even beat my ASUS and it died after only 2 years. Rather annoyed. Also Windows 8 sucks sour monkey balls. I'm having a hard time getting used to this laptop and configuring it the way I like, getting stuff installed (ZenWriter was an absolute must) and I'm waiting to get my backup files.

Also, a buddy may or may not have gotten me into Transformers, specifically Soundwave/Jazz, and I'm producing a little on that front now in addition to the good four or so pages I've currently got on OBII.


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June 26, 2013 • 8:08 am



3 twists of the knife | Penetrate me?

June 22, 2013 • 3:13 am
subject: Sometimes it's a goddamn good thing I have no super powers...

There would be a lot of fucking dead people. And it would slow and painful and if there weren’t superheroes before I did this, there sure as hell would be afterward.

I just want a simple goddamn recipe. Two ingredients. That’s it. Simple. Basic. Fucking basic. I don’t need 20 damn ways to jazz it up, I don’t want 14 super simple recipes to make “yummiest” shit with added crap. I don’t want fucking new ways to reinvent the goddamn easy recipe that it seems everyone else knows and isn’t telling me.

Don’t ever EVER fucking tell me you run a recipe site that includes basics, because it’s bullshit and I will hurt you. I don’t care at this point if you run the only one in existence because I don’t think it exists anymore. I think it’s mythological. The “basic” recipe takes seven steps, fourteen ingredients and twenty minutes of prep time. The “simple” recipe has five ingredients that shouldn’t be there but it’s “low” or a “cheat”. I don’t want to cheat and I don’t want the motherfucking “low” amount, I want the fucking “no” amount.

Cooking sites, for whatever fucking reason, are the one and only time that the internet fails me. Google fails. Because all the marketing people decided to make cooking and recipes their home base, and there isn’t a legitimate, straightforward site on the whole goddamn web that I can find.

Slowly. With a set of a kitchen knives. And there may or may not be a delicious batch of meat pies afterward—that will depend solely on how many different internet searches I’ve tried that day.


2 twists of the knife | Penetrate me?

June 20, 2013 • 11:35 pm

So I see that there's a TMNT anthology in the works, set for Aug.1, and it's aimed at romance and erotica, and I'm thinking "hmm, I haven't done that in awhile. And I was thinking of a Mikey/Leo scenario earlier today, and it'd be fun to give it a whirl 'cause I totally don't have enough fics on my plate as it is..."

And then I see this: We do have a few no-no's though: No original/fan characters, blank slate canons, child or chibi characters. And of course no turtlecest (implied or otherwise).


*brief flash of Usagi or...*

Pfft, hell no, not doing that again.

Yeah, nevermind.


1 twist of the knife | Penetrate me?

June 15, 2013 • 2:48 am
subject: Reminds me of the idiot who defriended me.

Literally defriended me over me saying that Damon Salvatore was a predator and anyone who dated him should be prepared to be abused because--srsly--vampires hunt and kill people.

If You're Dating a Vampire, You're Doing It Wrong

What have we learned, children? That dating a vampire, even incredibly hot and wooby ones like Damon, is incredibly stupid and really just an indulgent fantasy. He's not even human--people look at him and think, oh, he looks human so he must retain some human elements. No, nothing! Barely even the shell of a human. He's an intelligent animal. That's why he's awesome. That's also why he's not date material.


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June 13, 2013 • 3:33 am

Of all the emotions and feelings in the world, I think anxiety is the worst.


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June 4, 2013 • 1:43 am
subject: generally good

self-reflectionCollapse )


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May 30, 2013 • 4:12 am
subject: 2. Comfort (100 Prompts:: Avengers ~ Loki)

100 Prompts:: Avengers ~ Loki ((warnings unknown at this time))
Summary: Some circumstances around Loki's fall and how he rises up again. A story told out of order.

2. Comfort

Up here, on the cracked cement of an apartment rooftop, the din faded under a breeze swept in from the ocean. Lingering hints of fish and scum on the water still played here and there, but the air was clean. More importantly, it was cooler than the oven of the sun-soaked street.

Midgardians.Collapse )


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