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Running Nowhere: They were boys then. They were men now. And there was Gai, still trying to pull him back from something.
Category: One Shot
Status: Complete
Rating: NC-17 for angst, smut, and language. And smut.
Characters: Kakashi, Gai
Notes: I got three requests for Kakashi to be with Gai on his birthday, so I have to go with popular demand. And hey, look, porn...

( Running Nowhere )

Then the grass by the mouth of the hole stopped waving, and Darzee said: “It’s all over with Rikki-Tikki! We must sing his death song. Valiant Rikki-Tikki is dead! For Nagaina will surely kill him underground.”

So he sang a very mournful song that he made up on the spur of the minute, and just when he got to the most touching part the grass quivered again, and Rikki-Tikki, covered with dirt, dragged himself out of the hole leg by leg, licking his whiskers. Darzee stopped with a little shout. Rikki-Tikki shook some of the dust out of his fur and sneezed. “It’s all over,” he said. “The widow will never come out again.” And the red ants that live between the grass-stems heard him, and began to troop down one after another to see if he had spoken the truth.

Rikki-Tikki curled himself up in the grass and slept where he was-slept and slept till it was late in the afternoon, for he had done a hard day’s work.

“Now,” he said, when he awoke, “I will go back to the house. Tell the Coppersmith, Darzee, and he will tell the garden that Nagaina is dead.”

The Coppersmith is a bird who makes noise exactly like the beating of a little hammer on a copper pot; and the reason he is always making it is because he is the town-crier to every Indian garden, and he tells news to everybody who cares to listen. As Rikki-Tikki went up the path, he heard his “attention” notes like a tiny dinner-gong; and the steady “Ding-dong-tock! Nag is dead- dong! Nagaina is dead! Ding-dong-tock!” That set all the bird in the garden singing, and all the frogs croaking; for Nag and Nagaina used to eat frogs as well as little birds.

Rudyard Kipling, The Jungle Book

December: It's sad quiet in our apartment, because Itachi doesn't talk much. He laughs even less. I don't laugh much either, because there's nothing to laugh about anymore. Especially in December.
Category: Chapter fic
Status: Work in Progress
Rating: R for language, drug and sexual references, mature subject matter.
Notes: Written in first person narratives alternating between Sasuke, Kakashi, Itachi, and Kisame.

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six

( Chapter Seven-November II )

( Chapter Seven-Part II )

"Vampires have always infiltrated the most powerful human institutions. In the 1600's, it was the Catholic Church. Today it's Google, and Fox News."

-Bill Compton, on True Blood

I have sea foam in my veins,
I understand the language of waves.

-Le Testament d'Orphee

Capture this world in a word scant and
Far apart. So hard to find-
A scent, a place, a memory, created in you tired mind
One last time:
There once was a man from Nantucket. . .we all know what
Rhymes with Nantucket. Where is Nantucket, anyway?
Timbuktu I can find on a map with no difficulty- just a dot
In Africa. Bored finger missing their pen connect
The dots from Timbuktu to Calcutta,
Calcutta to Baghdad.

Whisk me away on a magic carpet ride, a personal taxi
Service to the Seven Wonders of the ancient world. Show me
The Hanging Gardens of Babylon with vines that flower,
Twisting and turning and winding and curling ‘round pillars
Of stone. Let me pluck fruit from tree branches
Lounging over balconies to grounds below, climbing the stairs
Higher and higher
Until I see the backs of elephants that saunter through the
Streets, drinking from fountains.

Sweet man Nebchadnezzar. My testament to love is this pen,
Abandoned as my finger travels from Baghdad to Saudi Arabia.
Here there is no convenient dot. Instead I feel the hot sand
Stinging my skin and the sun burning my eyes as I lust after
The allure of Arabian nights
I seek treasures hidden behind secret doors and
Guarded by swarthy men with swords. Drop
One of their jewels into my palm, a glittering emerald or
Sapphire that scintillates like the ocean in its dying daytime hour.
There is my muse, a sapphire in my pocket for company
On this magic carpet ride.

Pen, I apologize. You’ve been sitting there for a while now,
Squandering precious time, wasting perfect ink. Lonely ink.
A lonely carpet ride over China (the next destination of my
Wandering finger). Let me soar through
Sparks and embers. See the dragons, far below.
Let me land and touch it’s back of fire. Let burn; I’ll race
Through the Orient like there’s no time left- no time
For words or otherwise- Give me ample time to walk the
Great Wall and swim across the water to Japan. There
I will find the perfect cherry blossom to tuck behind my ear.
Then I’ll sip the tea and feel like I can live forever wrapped in silk.

My muse has abandoned me. There’s the taste of fruit
From Babylon on the tongue and an Oriental cherry blossom
In my hair. Still I have no words. I might peer
Into this sapphire, comb it’s opaque depths for a
Spark of brilliance.
I might put my carpet in the foyer. Our excursions never
Helped a whit. I have nothing but a lonely pen and
Frustration as the words allude me once again. Shakespeare
Never had such a quandary. His sapphire was a gem, a
Diamond in the rough polished to sparkle and cut to
Pierce. I found nothing in Arabia- only sand and
A rant from a dying poet.

The whole mad swirl of everything that was to come began then; it would mix up all my friends and all I had left of my family in a big dust cloud over the American Night. Carlo told him of Old Bull Lee, Elmer Hassel on Riker’s Island, Jane wandering on Times Square in a Benzedrine hallucination, with her baby girl in her arms and ending up in Bellevue. And Dean told Carlo of unknown people in the West like Tommy Snark, the clubfooted poolhall rotation shark and cardplayer and queer saint. He told him of Roy Johnson, Big Ed Dunkel, his boyhood buddies, his street buddies, his innumerable girls and sex parties and pornographic pictures, his heroes, heroines, adventures. They rushed down the street together, digging everything in the early way they had, which later became so much sadder and perceptive and blank. But then they had danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I’ve been doing my whole life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes “Awww!”

Jack Kerouac, On the Road

translations: There are some things that Gai, for all his verbosity, has the good grace not to talk about. Helping Kakashi bleed is one of them.
Category: One-shot
Status- Complete, 13000 words
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Gai, Kakashi, mentions of various others
Notes: This story, originally entitled Translation is up on my journal already in unfinished form. I reworked it and now, instead of being an incomplete mutil-chaptered fic, it is now a complete, longer one-shot. The subject matter of this fic deals with masochism, so it that's a sensitive area for you, proceed with caution. Many thanks to

sub_textual for encouraging me to finish and then beta-ing for me.

( translations )

Dare: Shikamaru doesn’t want to play the game.
Category: Ficlet, AU
Status Complete
Rating: PG-13
Notes: Written for

itcomesinphases for participating in my meme. The prompt is "second-guessing."

( Dare )

December: It's sad quiet in our apartment, because Itachi doesn't talk much. He laughs even less. I don't laugh much either, because there's nothing to laugh about anymore. Especially in December.
Category: Chapter fic
Status: Work in Progress
Rating: R for language, drug and sexual references, mature subject matter.
Notes: First person narratives alternating between Kakashi, Sasuke, Itachi, and Kisame.

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five

( Chapter Six-Part 1 )

( Chapter Six-Part II )

I would liken you
To a night without stars
Were it not for your eyes.
I would liken you
To a sleep without dreams
Were it not for your songs

Langston Hughes, "Quiet Girl"

green: Kakashi comes to Sakura in the hospital, just as she's leaving him for good.
Status: Complete
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Kakashi, Sakura
Prompt: Pregnancy
Notes: Written for

photoash for participating in a meme of mine.

( green )

December: It's sad quiet in our apartment, because Itachi doesn't talk much. He laughs even less. I don't laugh much either, because there's nothing to laugh about anymore. Especially in December.
Category: Chapter fic
Status: Work in Progress
Rating: R for language, drug and sexual references, mature subject matter.
Notes: First person narratives alternating between Sasuke, Kakashi, Itachi, and Kisame.

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four

( Chapter Five-Part 1 )

( Chapter Five-Part 2 )

Way to Kill the Dying: Unfortunately, the living are sometimes prone to dying.
Category: Drabbles
Status: Complete
Rating: PG
Notes: This is a collection of vignettes that vaguely connect to form a story of loss.

( Ways to Kill the Dying )

one line. first line. six more to follow.

one chance. last chance.
no chance last dance.

i did what you said, and
i went to sleep.
waking up was the problem.

December:It's sad quiet in our apartment, because Itachi doesn't talk much. He laughs even less. I don't laugh much either, because there's nothing to laugh about anymore. Especially in December.
Category: Chapter fic
Status: Work in Progress
Rating: R for language, drug and sexual references, mature subject matter.
Notes: First person narratives alternating between Sasuke, Itachi, Kisame, and Kakashi.

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three

( Chapter Four-Part 1 )

( Chapter Four-Part 2 )

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Recent Entries

[Fic] running nowhere

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[Fic] green

[Fic] december

[Fic] december

[Fic] Ways to Kill the Dying

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[Fic] december

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