clerestory: (declaration)
If you were wondering what I was doing at 2 am on Easter morning, wonder no longer:
The correct answer: writing barely-disguised porn. )
No promises on whether the rest of this will ever see the light of day, but I have a Haley/Hotch/Rossi scene in my mind that won't quit.


Apr. 10th, 2011 02:32 am
clerestory: (declaration)
Found a chapter of this lurking in my gdocs folder; added a bit to it and posted it.

"Garcia, is this room clean?"

She gives him a puzzled look. "It's a little dusty, but--Oh!" Cue embarrassed flush. "I did a bug sweep early yesterday, sir. I thought it was prudent, with Section Chief Strauss out for blood." Aaron gives her a nod.


Apr. 6th, 2011 08:46 pm
clerestory: (declaration)
He (and everyone else) is shocked when Kyy shows up.
For one thing, having a winged serpent show up in your bedroom is slightly unnerving at the best of times. For another - as he keeps insisting - he's not a mage.
That's not keeping the thing from mother-henning him, though, or making it leave. Goddess knows why.
He glares at it where it lays sprawled across his books, and it chuckles in it's peculiar, hissing laugh. "I'm not moving, you know."
Evyren huffs and puts on his most intimidating voice. "I have work to do, you infernal creature!"
Kyy smirks, which is particularly unnerving given the fangs. "That village to the south is imagining things - there's no monster, only a few hungry wolves. That yearmate of yours doesn't turn 15 for another 2 weeks, you have plenty of time to come up with a suitably impressive gift. And as for that origin myth you've been researching, I happen to know where you can find an answer, but I'm not telling you until you've had a break."
"Useless reptile."
"You're of little use sleep-deprived and hungry, and I'm still not moving."
Evyren mutters under his breath and stalks out of the room.
Kyy hears things flying about and crashing into one another in the kitchen - this kid can't do anything the normal way, can he? - and settles down for a satisfied nap. 
clerestory: (Default)
The art homework won't even be started until after midnight, though. Have a few sentences from the fic I've been working on for the past few days instead.  
He goes over and over possible escape plans until he works himself into a panic, and then spends a good deal of time examining the rusted ironing board in front of him. There's floral fabric under the grime, and it strikes him as being very out of place. He's been kidnapped by a man who presses his shirts, evidently often enough that his secret lair requires a floral-print ironing board.


clerestory: (Default)
a chance of humming

February 2012



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