My Favorite Obsession

Slightly edited

Thu, 15 Jun 2006 02:21:39 GMT

Title: Dreams
Fandom: Wicked
Characters: Glinda/Elphaba
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Typos have been fixed, couple of things changed, more fixes to come.

Early morning sunlight flooded onto her front porch as Glinda closed her eyes and smiled, stretching into the warm glow. She moved to sit beside the figure on the steps, not thinking it the least bit strange that the dark-haired woman had suddenly reappeared. They sat together in silence for a moment. Conversation began to flow slowly...small talk. Elphaba had never been given to small talk. She either spoke frankly or didn't speak at all, yet here she was, chatting about trifles.

Somehow, Glinda knew she was saying more. She knew this was an apology, a reconciliation. This was Elphaba's way of...well, of trying. Of giving. She had always been so stubborn and so hard-headed, but now, she was making an awkward attempt at being gentle.

They lasped into silence again for a moment. Before she knew what was happening, Glinda realized Elphaba's fingers were tracing her collarbone with a featherlight touch. Lips soon touched the soft, ivory flesh of her neck, and her own delicate fingers wound through Elphaba's jet black hair. Her hair was long and dark and beautiful, just as Glinda remembered it. Funny how when they first met, she hadn't been able to get past the color of her skin...now, that was the last thing on her mind.

Elphaba's body was taut beneath her hands, and she could feel the other witch's long fingers pressing against her own somewhat softer flesh. But the physical sensation she was most aware of was the delicious, intoxicating feeling of Elphaba's lips against her neck, kissing and sucking the flesh like she had always longed for her to do.

Something else was stronger than that, though. It may have been partly caused by Elphaba's lips, her hands, but the greatest sensation was not physical. Above all else, Glinda was aware of the overwhelming feeling of happiness washing over her. Pure, undiluted joy flooded through every corner of her soul as she held her personal goddess close. It was a feeling she knew she had only ever experienced in her dreams...

As soon as she realized her feelings were dreamlike, a sudden snort from beside her jolted Glinda awake, as if on cue. With a startled gasp, she sat up quickly in bed, vainly hoping that she could still reach out and grasp the phantom shadow...but it was gone. She looked at the room around her, neat and orderly and silent except for the occassional grunting of the slightly overweight, middle aged man sleeping beside her.

Wrapping her arms around herself, Glinda realized that she, too, was slightly overweight and fast approaching middle age. She had moved on with her life. She had made vast improvements in the government of Oz, she had almost restored the Animals to their rightful place in society...and she had married a respectable man with a wealthy estate who absolutely adored her and their children. To any outside observer, it looked as though Glinda the Good's dreams had all come true.

All of them, perhaps, except the only one that mattered.

Sun, 09 Apr 2006 20:44:28 GMT

Title: Dying Breath
Fandom: Rocky Horror Picture Show
Characters: Riff Raff/Magenta
Word Count: 1495
Rating: R for violence?
Summary: My very first (and probably last) ROTOQ that stemmed from a conversation with __rosedark last night. Be warned that this has not been proofread at ALL, but I'm posting it now before I leave for Boone.

She entered the bedroom they shared quietly, closing and locking the door out of habit. He was already in bed, lying on his side with his back to her, the pale moonlight casting shadows over his face.

A pang of guilt shot through her, and she bit her lip to fight the tears that threatened her eyes; if he knew where she was coming back from, it would break his heart. Going there nearly broke hers, but she knew she was doing it for him. De Lordy had guessed the secret they had been hiding for years; he knew their story about Frank having remained on Earth was a lie. He knew Riff had been the one to kill him, and he had used the information to blackmail Magenta. She had been one of the few women on Transsexual to ever refuse him...and De Lordy didn't like taking 'no' for an answer.

She sat down on the chair at her vanity to unlace her boots and slip them off, then unbuttoned the sleeveless, red satin dress she had worn and slipped it off over her shoulders with a shudder. It was a beautiful garment, a dark, crimson red only slightly lighter than her hair. Low-cut, it fastened with small, covered buttons from the neckline down to the tops of her thighs; from there, it left an open split down to the bottom, which ended just below the knee. It seemed fitting attire for the deed she had just done. Taking off the dress meant taking off the shell of her adultery, and she felt as though she could breathe a little easier.

She would take a long, hot shower in the morning to rid herself of the feeling of De Lordy's hands on her; for now, the thing she wanted most was to crawl into bed and forget anything had ever happened.

Carefully, she slid under the sheets beside Riff Raff, trying not to wake him up. Once again, the painful sting of guilt pricked her heart, but she shut her eyes and tried to ignore it. She had done this for him. Everything was for him.

Riff Raff had heard her enter the room. He had not been asleep; far from it, he had lain almost rigid in their bed, seething over what he had learned earlier that night.

They had been seen together. He had wanted to deny it, wanted to denounce those who had told him as liars, but too many stories matched up. It was bad enough that she was having an affair, but the fact that it was with a fat, disgusting pig like De Lordy was simply too much.

Riff Raff hated them both. Magenta was his. She had always been his. His little sister, his best friend, his lover. No one else's. No one else was allowed to touch her.

He flinched when he felt the mattress dip as she lay down beside him. Part of him wanted to cry; never in all his life had he felt so utterly used and betrayed. But tears wouldn't come.

After waiting a moment until she was settled, he silently turned over onto his back, letting her know he was awake.

Magenta felt Riff Raff move beside her, and she looked over to see him staring up at the ceiling. A small flicker of fear danced through her mind at the expression on his face, but she dismissed it as a reflection of her own guilt. "Still awake?" she asked quietly. Her voice sounded deafening in the silence of the room.

At first, he didn't move. Then, with slow, fluid movements, he held the covers back so that he could climb on top of her. He let his entire weight rest on her thin frame, crushing her, making her breathing a bit labored. They stared at each other in silence for a brief moment before he leaned his head down to kiss her. She turned her head to the side, avoiding his lips.

"No, Riff," she murmured quietly, her voice sorrowful. She couldn't make love to him, couldn't even kiss him, not when half an hour ago her mouth had been on De Lordy.

He raised himself up slightly when she turned away, enough so that his legs supported his body and his arms were free. He regarded the side of her face, pale and perfect, beautiful in the moonlight that shone through their window. Then, without warning, he drew back his arm and hit her hard with the back of his hand across her jaw.

She let out a sound that was a cross between a gasp and a scream. Before she could protest, before his name even finished forming on her lips, he hit her again, then grabbed her bruised face in his hands and forced her to look at him. Still, he didn't say a word. He leaned down again, holding her still this time, and crushed his mouth violently against her lips. He wanted to consume her, wanted to have control over every inch of her body, wanted to lock her up so that neither De Lordy nor anyone else would ever be able to look at her, lust after her again.

Tears streamed from the corners of her eyes, trailing down to her red hair. He hadn't struck her in years, and then it had only been once before. They had been on Earth, he had been frustrated with Frank, and he had struck her. The moment it had happened, he had begun to cry, telling her he was sorry and that he loved her. But no apology came this time, no tears were visible in his pale blue eyes, and she knew there could be only one reason for his violence.

He knew.

When her mouth was finally free from his, she tried to speak, tried to explain. "Riff, please, you don't understand," she sobbed, only to be silenced by another blow.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up," he hissed, moving his hands to her shoulders and shaking her violently.

"Riff, please--"

"Shut UP," he shouted, his hands travelling to her throat as he began to throttle her. She choked and gasped, no longer able to give an explanation.

She knew, then, that this was going to go too far. She knew he had never been very good with controlling his emotions when they became this intense; there was nothing more she could do to stop him. She couldn't find it in her heart to blame him; he had no way of knowing she had done everything for his sake. Tears continued to pour from her green eyes, and as he choked the breath from her body, she began to mouth the words 'I love you' silently. Over and over again, knowing it was useless to try and mouth an explanation, she simply repeated the tiny phrase, never taking her pleading eyes off his face.

His eyes danced wildly, frantic as he watched her crimson lips. He shook his head at the words, refusing to believe her, never loosening his grip on her pretty white neck. Over and over, even as her struggling faded, 'I love you' repeated again and again. It was then that he began to cry, tears dripping from his eyes to land on her face, mixing with her tears.

Unable to stand it any longer, he shifted his hands so that one held down her throat, pressing it into the mattress. With his free hand, he covered her lips so he wouldn't have to look at them any more, wouldn't have to face those words.

"No you don't," he choked out, shaking his head frantically as he cried. The light was beginning to fade from her eyes, but she still looked at him sorrowfully, and his hand on her lips couldn't hide the love still shining in those green orbs. "You don't, you don't, you don't..."

Finally, the light was gone completely. Her eyes stared up at him with an empty gaze, and he removed his hand from her lips. His sobs began to ebb away, and he looked down at his palm to see that her lipstick had stained the skin red.

With a sudden jolt, he realized just what he had done. She was dead. She was dead, and he had killed her. Yet for some reason, that knowledge could not make him cry. He had been crying earlier, crying as though his heart would break, but now, all he could do was look down at her lifeless body with a detached expression.

Gently, he leaned down to kiss her again, a soft, almost chaste kiss as he echoed her dying phrase.

"I love you."

Fic prompt

Thu, 30 Mar 2006 06:03:50 GMT

Not sure if anyone will be inspired by this, but...it caught my eye, so I'm posting it.

"My conscience hath a thousand several tongues,
And every tongue brings in a several tale,
And every tale condemns me for a villain."
~Richard III

Sat, 25 Mar 2006 21:52:22 GMT

Title: Control
Fandom: Rocky Horror Picture Show
Characters: Frank/Riff Raff, Riff Raff/Magenta
Word Count: 721
Rating: I'm gonna be safe and go with R...nothing is actually graphic, but it's very rough implied sex.

It's a lot like life,
This play between the sheets
With you on top and me underneath
Forget all about equality
Let's play master and servant
~Depeche Mode

He gritted his teeth and clenched his hands into fists around the black sheets as an intense mixture of pleasure and pain passed through his body in a shudder. Things were different with him than they were with Frank's other partners. The transvestite normally liked to use a certain amount of finesse, an oozing sense of charm, but never outright force. Part of what made him such a master of lovemaking was his ability to make his lovers want him. He could make them feel like their pleasure was his only aim.

However, Frank was unconcerned with being a master of sex with his handyman. His aim here was simply to take what he wanted without pausing to dream up creative methods of erotic play. Their relationship was not one of lovers; they were simply master and servant.

Fighting back a moan as Frank's pace quickened, Riff closed his eyes. He couldn't help enjoying it. True, the experience was totally different from the way he had sex with Magenta. For the most part, he was the one in charge then. With Frank, he had no say. In fact, he almost feared to utter a sound; one never knew what reaction it would provoke in the temperamental prince.

Even the fear thrilled him.

The session didn't last all that long; Frank had stamina to be reckoned with, but he didn't bother employing it when his goal was self-gratification. With a few final hard slams, he was finished, and he collapsed onto the bed. He lay still only long enough to catch his breath before raising his foot to kick Riff Raff off onto the floor.

The handyman winced as he landed on his shoulder, having not been prepared to catch himself. He raised his eyes to look at Frank, who regarded him with an expression of cool indifference. Lowering his gaze again, he wordlessly collected his trousers from where they were bunched around his ankles and slunk out of the room, shutting the door with a quiet click behind him.

Once outside, he sighed and leaned up against the wall, fighting against the hot feeling pressing against his eyes. Deep down, he knew Frank only pushed him around because he let it happen. Frank didn't treat Magenta with the same degree of contempt because his redhaired maid didn't allow it. As far as Riff knew, Frank had never even had sex with his sister, and if he had, Magenta had been perfectly willing. Riff didn't have the same amount of backbone where Frank was concerned. Even though at times he hated his master with a passionate rage, there were far too many other emotions mixed in...

It wasn't exactly love. Not in a traditional sense, anyway. No, Riff suspected the only creature he could ever truly love was his sister. It was the light in Frank's eyes when he discovered something new in the lab...something that Riff had pointed him the right direction of. It was the way his rich, wine-colored lips could effortlessly curve into a delicious smirk or lower into a seductive pout. It was the toned look of his pale arms, the powdered perfection of his makeup.

Maybe it was some form of love. Love and jealousy and bitter resentment all rolled into a teeming mass of feeling that turned Riff into a submissive, faithful servant whenever Frank needed him to be.

He never said a word. He knew Frank needed someone to control.

But underneath it all was a boiling rage that seethed and simmered. One day, it was going to erupt.

For the time being, Riff just slammed his fist once against the wall opposite Frank's room before stalking off down the hall. His sleeping sister would bear the brunt of his anger at Frank. She would wake up to a similar sort of rough, wordless, self-gratifying sex that her brother had just been the object of. Although he would never know it, once he was asleep she would slip outside their room and lean against the wall to fight back a sting of tears similar to his own.

She never said a word.

She knew Riff needed someone to control.

Sat, 25 Mar 2006 18:18:23 GMT

K, couple of lyrics from different songs. If nothing inspires you, then don't worry about writing! But if something does...by all means, share with the rest of us. And please feel free to be as serious or silly as you want with these. ;-)

P.S. Don't blame me, blame the music on my computer. And yes, some of these are rather dirty-sounding, but...oh well. :-P

#1.
I'm in distress
Oh, mistress, I confess
So do it one more time
These handcufs are too tight
Well, you know I will obey
So please don't make me beg.
~Green Day

#2.
It's a lot like life,
This play between the sheets
With you on top and me underneath
Forget all about equality
Let's play master and servant
~Depeche Mode

#3.
Stay at home; I am home
Who out there could love you more than I?
What out there that I cannot supply?
Stay with me.
~Into the Woods

#4.
I've been living to see you
Dying to see you,
But it shouldn't be like this
This was unexpected
What do I do now?
Could we start again, please?
~Jesus Christ Superstar

Sat, 25 Mar 2006 15:43:49 GMT

Okay, so...I know I should be finishing my fic. And I will. But I'm thinking of posting little fic challenges. Nothing at all formal or complicated. Just sort of...you know, posting a song lyric and asking people to see if it inspires them to write something.

Of course, most of what I post will probably be Rocky Horror specific (and I think that's what most of you reading this write in...), but some of them might be more general and therefore open to whatever fandom.

Like I said, this is not meant to really be any kind of formal challenge. If you like the prompt and decide to write a fic, just post it in your journal.

Part of this idea was inspired by listening to the OLC of the Rocky Horror Show in the car, and part of it came from going to a lecture by Al Young. He made a point about how the best form of inspiration is to ask questions, and that's something I do a lot, anyway, so...I'm running with it.

So....good idea? Bad idea?

Wed, 22 Mar 2006 03:09:16 GMT

Title: Test Run - Chapter Five
Fandom: Rocky Horror Picture Show
Characters: Riff Raff, Magenta
Word Count: 910
Rating: PG
Summary: More of the same
Author's Note: This hasn't really been edited, but I wanted to go ahead and post it. Feedback is appreciated!

Riff Raff had fared better in his landing than the castle's other inhabitants. Not only had he been deposited on mossy ground, but he also knew where the particular patch of land was located; he was only about half a mile away from the road that led up to the castle.

Having lost his balance on impact, the wiry man got to his feet and brushed himself off. Not that it did much good; his clothes had been dirty before he hit the ground, so a little added dirt wasn't going to affect them. As he surveyed his surroundings, his previous annoyance with Frank grew. If that idiot had only listened to him for a change, they wouldn't be in this mess.

Doing some rough calculations in his head, Riff quickly realized that things could have turned out to be much worse. Judging from his current position, he was only about a mile from the castle in a straight path. If he made it to the road, it would add almost another mile to his journey, but travel would be much
smoother.

The transducer had obviously not transported them as a single group; each of them must have been moved as an individual. Judging from his own position, Riff wagered that Frank was closest to the castle out of the four of them, which meant Magenta would be the farthest away. If Frank made it back to the castle, he would hopefully have enough sense to throw the lever into reverse and bring them all back.

"Not that Frank will have any idea of where he is," he muttered aloud to the trees. Still, he knew the way back, so that provided some hope.

A new thought occured to him, and he sighed. Another thing he knew was the way Magenta's thought process worked, and he would bet money that she would be trying to find him instead of trying to find the castle. If she had managed to start off in the right direction, she would be heading towards both, but he wasn't sure she would recognize that fact.

Logically, Riff knew he should make his own way back to the castle. If nothing else, once he got there he could throw the switch himself and bring them all back safely. Emotionally however, he wasn't happy with the idea of leaving his little sister alone in the middle of a strange place. He knew she could fend for herself against most anything, but he had always been rather protective of her. He couldn't bring himself to leave her.

The moon was bright, and the trees were sparse enough so that he would be able to see her some distance away if she did happen to pass by. If he tried to go searching for her, he feared they might pass one another in a more densley foliated area without realizing it. Sighing with resignation, he sat down on the ground with his back against a tree to wait.

Ten minutes passed, and he began to grow both impatient and concerned. If the distance away from the castle was propotional to the distance Magenta was from him, it shouldn't have taken her nearly that long to get to him. He stood up from his spot by the tree and began pacing slowly back and forth between the trees, hoping to catch some sign her.

Just when he had nearly made up his mind to head back to the castle and transport them all back, he glimped a figure half-limping towards him. He closed the distance between them; neither of them spoke at first. Magenta was muddy from the hips down, and her expression was positively murderous. Riff Raff fought the urge to smile; as cliche as it sounded, he couldn't help thinking that she was beautiful when she was angry.

After a moment of standing in silence, Riff asked, in an almost amused tone, "Well, what happened?"

Magenta's eyes narrowed, and after a moment she stalked past him. "This is all your fault," she muttered.

"And how is it mine?" he asked, catching up to her in a few easy strides.

"You made me get out of bed."

Grabbing hold of her arm, he pulled her to face him. "Well, we can get you back into bed as soon as we get back to the castle..." he murmured quietly, a hint of suggestion in his voice. His sister did not look the least bit amused.

"Just how far IS the castle?" she asked, pulling her arm out of his grasp.

"We're a bit over a mile away." he answered, and she groaned loudly. He sighed, shaking his head. "You're going to be slow going without shoes."

"I quite think I figured that out already," she snapped. After a moment of thought, Riff turned his back to her and stooped down slightly.

"Come on, then," he said, gesturing for her to climb on his back. She barely hesitated before hopping on, wrapping her arms and legs tightly around him.

"Don't you dare drop me," she muttered, leaning her head against him as he straightened up. He just smiled; compared to the things Frank had him hauling about, his slim sister's weight was nothing. Taking a moment to make sure he was headed in the right direction, he took off towards the castle.

Tue, 21 Mar 2006 01:40:53 GMT

No fics (spring break ended and threw me back into the world of "AH NO TIME!"). However, here are a couple Rocky Horror fanvids I've been working on for a while and finished today:

Lady Marmalade:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2GPORIpj0K4

Mailman (by Soundgarden):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UUk_Z4zilZs

The latter one is centered on Riff and Frank.

Sun, 19 Mar 2006 06:04:47 GMT

Title: Test Run - Chapter Four
Fandom: Rocky Horror Picture Show
Characters: Frank
Word Count: 530
Rating: PG
Summary: Yup...it's Frank's turn.
Author's Note: As always, feedback is very appreciated. Let me know if you see something that needs improving. Oh, and cookies for anyone who gets the Clue reference. ;-)

Being transported through time and space while wearing five inch platform heels does not lend itself to keeping one's balance. Once the ground had reappeared, Frank teetered and wobbled for a moment before falling backwards and landing hard on the ground. He winced and gave a loud, pitiful sounding groan in a valiant and princely attempt to appear as though he were really in a much greater amount of pain than he actually was.

After a moment, he realized that no one had yet begun rushing to his aid. He squinted one eye open to take a peek at his surroundings, ready to dutifully resume his helpless state of affliction if it happened to be that they were all standing around staring at him. However, no one was there. Seeing that there wasn't a single soul to witness his marvelous injury, he let out an annoyed huff and got to his feet again.

Inwardly, he was a little more annoyed with himself than with anything else. A nagging voice somewhere in the back of his mind kept reminding him that his handyman had been right all along, but he pushed it aside in favor of blaming Riff Raff for a flaw in the transducer's design. The idiot should have reminded him of certain key details that could have prevented the whole mess. Frank smirked a little; it was no matter. He would adminster a proper punishment as soon as he was rightfully returned to his castle.

He straightened his pink labcoat, realized it had been ripped during his fall, stomped his foot angrily and flounced forward a few steps for good measure. He ended the display by stopping to lean against a tree and cross his arms over his chest. Once again, a tiny voice told him that sulking certainly wasn't going to fix anything, but he merely stomped his foot again to drive the thought away. Pouting was what Furters did best.

It was after both bouts of foot stamping that he noticed a rather distasteful smell coming from somewhere nearby. He looked around, sniffing disdainfully with a frown etched upon his heavily painted features. Suddenly recognizing what the smell was, he looked down at his feet, then delicately lifted up each glittery platform shoe in turn to inspect the soles. His expression turned to one of disgust as he moved to wipe his shoes on a patch of grass, and he made a mental note to speak to Magenta about the freedom she allowed those damn mutts of hers.

Moving away from the area that he assumed contained the original source of the stench, he sat down primly on the edge of a large rock to wait for help to arrive. In the meantime, he intended to dream up a deliciously suitable punishment for the imbecile who, he decided, had been responsible for ruining his experiment in the first place.

If he had bothered to actually look past the nearby foliage, he could easily have seen that he was about a five minute walk from the castle's front door.

Then again...pouting was what Furters did best.

Sat, 18 Mar 2006 21:24:06 GMT

Title: Test Run - Chapter Three
Fandom: Rocky Horror Picture Show
Characters: Columbia
Word Count: 592
Rating: PG
Summary: The plot...well, it doesn't thicken, exactly, you just see more of it...

Briars ripped at Columbia's pajamas as she tried to extricate herself from the bushes she had fallen into. She winced as the thorns scratched at her skin, but after a few moments of work, she managed to get free of the offending shrub and stumble out onto a clearer patch of land.

"Did it work? Where the hell are we?" she asked, her shrill voice sounding exceptionally loud in the still air. No one answered her, and she spun all the way around, completely confused. Was she the only one who had been affected by the transducer? "Maybe it doesn't work on aliens..." she mused, lifting her hand to nibble on her fingernails.

For a few moments, she simply stood still, fully expecting to be returned to the lab at any moment. As the seconds ticked by and her surroundings remained full of weeds and trees, doubt began to grow in her mind. Surely Frankie wouldn't just leave her out in the middle of nowhere! She knew he could be a bit dismissive of her at times, but he HAD to be more concerned than that.

Then again, maybe he had no control over it. Maybe the machine was broken. Maybe it hadn't quite been perfected, after all, and it was only good for transporting things one way. If that was the case, she would just have to find her way back on her own.

Eyeing a nearby tree with some low hanging branches, she kicked off her slippers. She had been somewhat of a tomboy as a younger girl, and climbing trees was second nature to her. If she could get up high enough to see where she was, she could find her way back.

She had just swung up onto the first branch when she heard growling beneath her. Crouching on the branch, she looked down to see a scruffy looking dog baring its teeth at her. It stopped to sniff at her disgarded slipper before taking the shoe in its mouth and shaking it violently.

"Nice doggie..." she whispered. The dog growled again, then barked at her. Not taking any chances on how high the creature could jump, Columbia scrambled farther up the tree.

The good news was that she couldn't be terribly far from the castle; she recognized the dog as being one of Magenta's mutts. The domestic had probably released them to have a run that night; they always returned to her by morning. The bad news was that Columbia knew none of the dogs liked her. As a matter of fact, they didn't tolerate anyone other than Magenta or Riff Raff, and they didn't even seem to be that fond of the handyman unless he was with his sister.

Realizing she had no where to go but up, the girl continued to make her way up the tree as far as she could without running out of steady limbs. Sure enough, she could see the blue light from the lab shining through the trees some distance away. Unfortunately, she had no way of getting past the growling dog at the base of the tree.

Sighing, she settled herself down on a branch with her back against the trunk. The dog had to get tired of her sometime, and then she would be able to walk back to the castle if no one had figured out how to fix the machine by then. For now, all she could do was wait.

Sat, 18 Mar 2006 18:33:53 GMT

So, somehow I managed to be unaware until today that Maggie's Smith's ex-husband Robert Stephens is the same Robert Stephens who is Patricia Quinn's late husband.

I think it's rather odd that I've gone all this time without knowing that, considering how much I adore both women.

Small world, isn't it? I can't say I would be able to choose sides if those two ladies ever got in an argument...

Sat, 18 Mar 2006 06:10:22 GMT

Title: Test Run - Chapter Two
Fandom: Rocky Horror Picture Show
Characters: Magenta
Word Count: 705
Rating: PG-13 (eventally)
Summary: Erm...chapter 2!

Magenta had been staring at the pink glow surrounding her brother in confusion when, without warning, he had disappeared from her vision. Actually, everything had disappeared from her vision. For a fleeting moment that seemed an eternity to her, her heart leapt to her throat as the floor vanished from under her. Her sight was vacant just long enough for her to begin to feel a grim sort of panic. This was it; she was going to be trapped in blackness forever. Frank's infuriating tendency to plow into things headfirst had cost them all. He never listened to Riff when he should. Riff always knew what was best, for all of them. The one thing that terrified Magenta most as she stared wide-eyed into the dark was the thought that she was never going to see her dear brother again.

Then, just as suddenly as the ground underneath her had disappeared, it was there again...only it was no longer the castle floor. An abrupt rush of cold seized her lower half as she was deposited on her feet in thigh-deep water. Her stomach and her body lurched as one; she came very close to losing both her dinner and her balance. Luckily, she managed both to catch herself on a nearby tree and to take a deep breath to steady her stomach.

It took her a moment to realize that her feet were firmly planted in thick mud at the bottom of the water, and she didn't know whether to be thankful that she wasn't wearing her boots (which would have undoubtedly been ruined) or dismayed that she was going to have to wade through the muck in only her stockings. Her eyes adjusted to the night fairly quickly. If the water wasn't a big enough clue, the surrounding flora was enough to confirm that she was in some sort of swamp.

As she stood leaning forward to hold on to the narrow trunk ahead of her with both hands, she blew a stray strand of red hair out of her face before pushing herself fully upright again and releasing the tree. Looking around, she half-expected to see the others not too far off. A slight feeling of uneasiness began to settle in the pit of her stomach when she realized that there was positively no sign of anyone else in the marsh.

"Riff?" she called, quietly at first, then repeated the call a little louder. The soft hoot of a nearby owl was the only reply.

Closing her eyes, Magenta tried to think of any swampy areas nearby to the castle. Unfortunately, Riff was more knowledgeable about their Earthly surroundings than she was; she had a vague idea that there was some sort of wetlands to the east of the castle, but she had no way of knowing how far, or even which directions east and west were at the current moment. She never had quite gotten the hang of navigating by the Earth's silly single moon. Trying to find her way back to the castle would most likely prove to be a fruitless endeavor.

Sighing in frustration and pressing her fingertips against her closed eyes, she decided to try a different course of action. She had been standing next to Riff when the transducer was activated. In turn, he had been beside Columbia, who had been the closest of the three to Frank. This meant that Riff was the only one she would be remotely near at present. Of course, that was assuming that the transducer had at least transported them in some semblance of order, regardless of their distance apart. If she could only find Riff, she wagered the two of them would have a much better chance at finding their way back than either of them on their own.

With some difficulty, she extracted one foot from the mud and took a step to her right, the black chiffon of her lingerie clinging wetly to her pale skin as she tried to move. The newly freed foot was immediately submerged in muck again, and she groaned. It was going to prove to be a very difficult journey.

Sat, 18 Mar 2006 03:25:57 GMT

Title: Test Run - Chapter One
Fandom: Rocky Horror Picture Show
Characters: Frank, Riff, Magenta, Columbia
Word Count: 1204
Rating: PG-13 (eventally)
Summary: New inventions take trial and error before they are perfected. The sonic transducer is no exception.
Author's Notes: One thing I'd like to explain; I don't think that the elevator is the only way into the lab. My reasoning for this is that Magenta comes through the hole Dr. Scott leaves when he crashes through; however, she had no way of knowing there was a hole there, so why would she have been heading for a solid wall? I think there's a sort of "hidden entrance" there that the castle's inhabitants use.

As always, any and all feedback is greatly appreciated!

The shores of Transsexual shone white in the light of the planet's three moons, and Riff Raff sighed contentedly as he lay propped up on his elbows in the sand. His beautiful sister was lying stretched out on her back beside him, close enough so that he could feel the warmth from her skin. She opened her green eyes to look at him, and he reached one hand over to play with a piece of her hair, closing his eyes and drinking in the feeling of being home.

"Riff Raff!" came a voice through the stillness, but it was not Magenta's. This voice was whinier, and at the moment, more urgent.

"Riff Raff, you lazy fool, hurry up and get in here!"

The thin handyman opened his eyes groggily, trying to place where he was. He was lying on his stomach beside his sister, but they were not on the shores of Transsexual; they were in a creaky double bed in a dark castle, and the voice yelling from down the hall belonged to the insufferable Frank N. Furter. To make matter worse, both Riff's arms were trapped underneath his pillow, and they had gone numb.

"Dammit," he muttered, pulling his arms free and shaking some life back into them. Magenta groaned beside him and rolled over, pulling the covers over her head to try and drown out the world.

"I said HURRY!" the insistant voice yelled, and Riff sighed, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

"You know he's probably going to want you there, as well," he reminded his sister as he pulled on his clothes. Her reply was muffled and nearly inaudible, but he seemed to understand. "Well, you can try if you like, but I doubt it'll do you much good. He'll force you to get up sooner or later."

The pile of blankets heaved an annoyed sigh before they were thrown off to reveal the pale domestic. "Fine," she grumbled, readjusting her black chiffon negligee, "But I'm not getting dressed."

"Suit yourself," he replied, shrugging into the torn hump-backed jacket Frank made him wear.

"RIFF RAFF!"

"Dammit," the handyman swore again as he started for the door. "I'm not waiting 'round for you. Not when he's in such a foul mood."

"Let's go," she muttered, following close behind him. Within moments, they were ducking through the top entrance to the lab, which was standing wide open.

"Well, I've done it!" Frank exclaimed the moment he caught sight of them. His normally bossy tone was somewhat overshadowed by the excitement in his voice; sometimes, he got too wrapped up in things to remember to be rude and haughty to them.

"Done what?" came a new voice. A sleepy looking Columbia had stepped through the entrance just behind Frank's two servants, rubbing her eyes. "What's all the yellin' for?"

"I," Frank began, pausing for emphasis. He suddenly reminded Riff Raff of an Earthen bird he had seen called a peacock, preening its feathers. "Have perfected the sonic transducer!"

Riff exchanged a quick glance with his sister; they both knew that, although Frank was somewhat skilled in science, he did not have the brains it would take to finish the experiment that Riff Raff had started. Thankfully, before Frank could question their silence, Columbia filled the void.

"That's great, Frankie!" she squealed, then had to stifle a yawn. "...what's that mean?"

"It means we now have a device to transport solid matter! We can project it through space! And who knows? Perhaps even time itself!" he proclaimed triumphantly.

"And vhy did this require waking us up?" Magenta asked, half under her breath. Riff Raff couldn't help but admire his sister's tenacity at times; she was one of the few people he'd ever met who had the nerve to talk back to a Furter....even though it had the potential to get her in trouble.

Frank glowered at her for a moment, then smirked. "Well, since you're so keen to know why I called you, I suggest we get right down to business. You're going to test it for me!"

His announcement was met with stunned silence. Again, Columbia was the first to speak. "What do you mean...test it?"

"Exactly what I said. I'm going to use the transducer on you three to make sure it works properly!" Frank said. His face was practically beaming.

"And if something goes wrong?" Magenta asked, raising one eyebrow at the prince.

"Well, I suppose we'll just have to worry about that if it happens, won't we?" Frank replied with a another smirk. "Now, you three, down here."

"But Frankie, why do I have to do it? Can't I...um...can't I stay an' help you?" Columbia whined, eyeing the lever on the machine nervously.

"You ARE helping me, my dear!" Frank gave her one of his most winning smiles, and she sighed. Shrugging her shoulders, she started down the ramp to the lab floor.

"Master, I do not think this is a good idea," Riff Raff finally spoke up, not moving from his position at the top of the ramp. Frank's eyes flared in annoyance.

"Need I remind you who is in charge around here?" he replied haughtily. Riff held his tongue; now was not the time to challenge Frank. Exchanging another glance with his sister, he gave a very slight nod, and both of them followed Columbia's path to the lab floor. Frank stood by the lever, drumming it excitedly with his fingertips and bouncing up and down slightly on his toes.

The three of them stood a few feet apart on the pink tiles, waiting in silence for Frank to throw the switch. He was taking his time, letting the anticipation swell. Unfortunately for him, the only one who seemed to be growing the least bit anxious was his pink-haired groupie; Magenta seemed to be too annoyed at having been roused from her bed to really care, and Riff Raff had concluded to himself that the most likely thing that would happen was that the machine wouldn't work at all.

Sensing that his dramatic pause was not having its desired effect, Frank sighed loudly and threw down the switch without any further elaboration. For a moment, nothing seemed to be happening. Riff Raff began to feel a small glow of triumph, but before the feeling could take hold too strongly, he was suddenly aware that Frank, too, was glowing - quite literally. There was a faintly pink aura surrounding the transvestite. Looking to either side of him, he realized that Magenta and Columbia had the same glow; a glance down at his own hand confirmed that he, too, was emitting a strange light.

Looking back up at Frank, he saw that the other man was frowning in confusion, and suddenly Riff realized the problem; Frank had neglected to create a focus area for the transducer. And if Frank, too, was in the machine's sphere of influence...there would be no one to reverse the switch and bring them back.

Riff quickly opened his mouth to tell Frank to throw the switch, but before any sound could escape, everything surrounding him was thrown into blackness.

Wed, 15 Mar 2006 00:26:22 GMT

So, I have fic ideas. But they aren't getting written. Instead, I'm staring at a blank Word document going "Why don't I have any inspiration?"

Sigh.

Fri, 03 Mar 2006 16:37:44 GMT

So....yeah, it's been a really long time since I've updated anything. But not to worry! I had an idea for a fic last night, and I have some scribblings of a Shock Treatment/RHPS fic in a notebook. In the meantime...I am loving this picture:

http://www.rockymusic.org/archive/RHS/london-4.jpg

Sat, 11 Feb 2006 16:13:50 GMT

Title: Sometimes
Fandom: The Rocky Horror Picture Show
Characters: Magenta and Riff Raff
Word Count: 100 (drabble)
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: I normally don't write Magenta being this submissive, but...this idea came to me as an alternate take on what I really think of Riff and Magenta's relationship being like. Also my very first attempt at writing a drabble (so much harder to cut things down to 100 words than I thought it would be.)

Sometimes, he hurt her.

Sometimes, he would kiss her softly after he finished, stroke her hair with his thin fingers. She made herself forget what he had just done. He was her brother. The love of her life. He had never hurt her on Transsexual, so she chalked it up to the stress he felt with Frank.

Sometimes, she couldn't help glancing at the bruises on her forearms in the shape of his fingers. She couldn't help remembering the bites on her neck, so deep they hurt when she turned her head.

Sometimes, she hated him.

No fic, just a meme

Fri, 03 Feb 2006 00:17:43 GMT

Create your own Movie List @ HotFreeLayouts!

Thu, 02 Feb 2006 15:35:21 GMT

Just a note to say that I'm still around, and I'm very sorry I haven't written any new fics lately. Believe me, I've wanted to; it's just a combination of very little time and NO inspiration that's keeping me from it. The majority of the APO crap just ended (finally), but I'm still working on cleaning up some organizational leftovers from the past two weeks. When I'm not in class, I'm either working in the costume shop, exercising, or attending yet another meeting of yet another organization/club/board I'm a part of. My mother was right: I really HAVE been signing my name to every list for every extracurricular thing that comes along ever since I learned how to write my name. If I have time tonight, I PROMISE I will write a little something (although I can't promise it'll be Rocky Horror, as I had a brief glimpse of an idea for a Practical Magic fic this morning). However, I'll be in a Student Advisory Council meeting until 6:30, I'll hopefully motivate myself to work out until 7:30 (I'm determined to at least lose five pounds before the next Rocky show; I'm ten pounds heavier than I was when I first made my Magenta costume, and it was tight THEN, so things are getting a bit ridiculous), and then I have to come up with a model for an episodic plot structure for M. Butterfly, which I haven't yet read. So we'll see.

I'm going home for the weekend on Friday, though, and sometimes I write better when I'm there; I think it sort of removes me from the responsibility of school for a handful of hours, which helps.

Wed, 18 Jan 2006 01:58:54 GMT

Note to self: taking Studies in Drama, Survey of Dramatic Literature, Playwriting, and Advanced Expository Writing all at the same time was NOT a good idea. (Teaching Theatre 6-8 is no picnic, either, but at least it's of a slightly different nature).

Of course, Studies in Drama and Survey of Dramatic Lit are close to the same thing, and some of the plays overlap, so that's nice....but then again, it kind of means that I'm having to write twice as many papers for two of the same class.

Erm, anyway. The real purpose in this post is to sort of say...I really want to be writing fanfiction, but instead I'm further ruining my already shoddy eyesight by poring over the tiny print of Aristotle's Poetics in my text book, then analyzing how Oedipus Rex relates to Aristotle's theories. So...while I have a few snippets of ideas running around in my brain, they are refusing to turn into actual stories because they keep being pushed aside with things like the tragic side of tragedy and recognitions and peripeties and other fun things. (Of course, Oedipus had the whole incest thing going on...maybe I'll come up with something good for Riff/Magenta).

Oh, and I have an assignment to write a monologue from the point of view of a man who burned down his trailer, stole a forklift, and drove said forklift to Juarez, Mexico. Yes, my Playwriting professor is on crack, but he's a good guy.

...all right, I'm late for my date with some dead Greek guys.

Sat, 14 Jan 2006 22:45:23 GMT

So...it appears I lied when I said inspiration wasn't coming to me, because it struck not too long after that last post. Whoops.

Title: A Most Noble Mission
Fandom: The Rocky Horror Picture Show
Characters: Magenta, mention of others
Prompt: 058. Dinner
Word Count: 857
Rating: PG-13 for some descriptions of blood, mentions of cannibalism, and the like. I don't recommend reading if any of those things bother you. Then again, if they do...you probably can't stomach RHPS, either.
Author's Notes: Inspired by the aforementioned prompt and by some meat thawing in my kitchen. This takes place immediately after Janet and Brad are shown to their rooms, but before Magenta comes back to the lab to clean up with Riff.

Magenta was secretly relieved that she had been left in charge of cooking dinner. It was a messy affair, true, but her brother had the unfortunate task of disposing of the parts of Eddie's body that weren't being used for the meal, which, in her opinion, was a much less appealing job. Cannibalism was not something that was really practiced on Transsexual, but Eddie's body was the only meat they had left in the house, and there was no money left to buy more, not after Frank had spent most of what had been left on throwing a party to show off "his" new creation. Perhaps cooking Eddie wasn't really even cannibalism...after all, he had been a human, and that made him a different race than the Transylvanians, no matter how alike their genetic makeup was...and they had to eat something.

Her lips curled in an expression of distaste as she trimmed the bloody hunk of meat she had been given to work with down into a suitable size for cooking. She was glad Columbia had shut herself off in her room to cry over Eddie for a little while and listen to her records; the girl had a tendency to follow Magenta around when Frank wasn't interested in her company and Eddie wasn't available. If she knew the domestic was in the kitchen chopping up the remains of her love interest...well, it would vastly increase the difficulty of the whole ordeal. Besides, Magenta had more important things on her mind.

Brad and Janet, the two newcomers to the castle, were a matter of puzzlement for her. Although her brother let her in on many aspects of his plans, she was never quite sure whether things that happened were part of the grand scheme of things or simple accidents. For all she knew, he had arranged for the two young Earthlings to arrive in hopes that they would cause trouble. One thing she knew for certain was that Riff Raff had been plotting for some time to overthrow Frank; the dark-haired ruler's lifestyle had spiraled downward in recent months, as the party guests had plainly seen. She knew that the party itself had been Riff's doing; he had casually suggested it to Columbia, who had in turn blabbed the idea to Frank. If others of their race saw just how extravagent the Crown Prince of Transsexual was living, when all the while he was supposed to be working on scientific experiments...it would make Riff's story much more presentable when they returned to their home planet holding Frank prisoner.

With blood-smeared hands, Magenta shoved the meat she had trimmed off into a bowl for scraps, then heaved the remaining chunk into a roasting pan and slid the pan into the oven. Conditions on their beloved Transsexual had not been good, even before they left. The Great Queen Furter, too old to rule properly herself, had allowed her selfish son to have his way with many things, and while he was a powerful, charismatic individual, Frank had no idea how to be a good ruler. For a long time, there had been underground operations going on to overthrow the prince; Riff Raff and Magenta were part of the original revolutionaries. It was no accident that they had been the ones to accompany Frank to Earth for his mission. They had a mission all their own, one much nobler than Frank's selfish fascination with humans. While supporters of Frank and the Old Queen made themselves loud on Transsexual, they were vastly outnumbered by those who quietly opposed the old rule. Their operations were kept as secret as possible, which was part of the reason even Magenta didn't know all the details of her brother's plans; he had been the one put in charge of taking over, and the smallest slip could cost them dearly. But after the way the night's party had turned out...all but the staunchest supporters of the Furter family would be forced to concede that Frank was delusional and unfit to rule.

Magenta turned the water on in the sink and let its warmth wash the blood away from her hands. Unfortunately, Eddie's death had been an unexpected turn of events. Ironically, it had helped them. They had been trying to prove that Frank was unstable; Riff Raff had set a timer on the freezer door so that it would open after the party had moved up to the lab, ensuring that everyone would see how Frank had shut an Earthling away as a prisoner. They expected his reaction to Eddie's escape to be violent, but they had never expected one like what had taken place. Still, if there was ever any doubt in the minds of the higher ups on Trannsexual that Frank's mental state bordered on psychotic, it had to have been squashed upon his murder of Eddie. For that, Magenta and Riff Raff would both be eternally grateful for the young biker's sacrifice.

Not to mention it had given them something to eat for dinner.

Sat, 14 Jan 2006 20:15:56 GMT

Damn...I felt like I was on such a roll with fic writing. The past couple of days, I've really felt inspired, things have just been pouring out...and this afternoon when I went to look at my prompt table and see if anything caught my eye...nothing. Nada, zip, zilch, zero inspiration.

I'd like to get a nice chunk of writing done before this semester gets into full swing...because once it does, I'm going to be spending all my time writing for class, not for pleasure. Although I still enjoy my class writings. Anyway....I'm hoping something will come to me tonight. If I don't end up going snow tubing with my cousin, which I probably SHOULDN'T do seeing as how I'm about to hack up a lung...

And I apologize if my last fic was utter crap. I rather liked it at the time, but now I'm having doubts.

Sat, 14 Jan 2006 04:43:07 GMT

Title: A Moment One Summer
Fandom: Rocky Horror Picture Show
Characters: Brad, Eddie, random kids
Prompt: 026. Teammates
Word Count: 1792
Rating: PG
Summary: A tough kid sticks up for ten-year old Brad on the kickball field. Takes place several years before Rocky Horror. Mostly fluff, with a couple darker sentences later on.
Author's Notes: I'm taking a lot of liberties with the locations and ages in this fic. However, since we don't really KNOW any of the characters backgrounds (other than learning in Shock Treatment that Brad was adopted...and for those of you who haven't seen ST, don't worry, I haven't given a thing away by saying that), I'm going to say that this is as plausible as anything else. This may seem REALLY random, and it doesn't have much to do with the movie...but hey, it's still about two characters from the fandom.

"I hope he doesn't end up on our team again."

Ten-year-old Brad Majors inwardly cringed at the muttered comment he knew was in reference to himself, but he made no attempt to defend himself. It would only make things worse. The neighborhood kids tolerated him, sure. They seldom were openly mean to him, partly because most of them were very well behaved young people and they had learned from their well behaved parents to talk about others behind their backs rather than confronting anyone face to face with their opinions. They all learned at an early age to hide behind gossip and rumors rather than sticking up for anything.

One of the younger boys snickered. "Four-eyes probably can't even see the ball coming at him. S'why he can't ever kick it," he replied under his breath, and a round of prepubescent giggles followed. Brad kept his eyes on the ground and scuffed at a patch of grass growing in the dirt with the toe of his sneaker. It was nothing new. Although the other kids always let him play, he was always picked last.

He was relieved when the argument changed from who would end up stuck with him on a team to who would actually be the team captains that time around.

"You got to be captain LAST time, Bobby," a scrawny looking kid with buck-teeth whined. "It's my turn!"

"It's because I'm the best leader," the boy named Bobby replied arrogantly.

"Good leaders know how to take turns," a tomboyish girl with her hair done up in two braids and her jeans smeared with grass stains retorted. Her name was Elizabeth, and some moment that summer Brad had developed a crush on her that he would never admit aloud to anyone for the rest of his life. "And I say it's my turn."

"You can't be team captain, 'Lizbeth! You're a girl," Bobby spat, something between shock and disgust in his voice. The wind was knocked out of him when Elizabeth socked him in the stomach.

"I can do anything you can do," she snarled, grabbing him by the ear and twisting until he begged her to let go. She released him roughly and added, "It's E-liz-a-beth. Not 'Lizbeth. And I get to be captain."

"I'll take care of this, kiddies," a new voice broke in, and everyone immediately turned to find the source. The owner of the unfamiliar Texan drawl was a broad built boy with brown hair and bright blue eyes wearing a denim jacket and cowboy boots who looked to be about thirteen years of age, two full years older than the oldest of their usual neighborhood group. They all stared at him with their mouths agape; being in the presence of someone who positively reeked of being a teenager was awe-inspiring to them. All of them except Elizabeth, who just folded her arms across her chest and cocked an eyebrow at him with a 'who do you think you are?' attitude.

"Lizzy here gets to be a captain," he delegated, nodding towards the girl. She gave him a Look.

"Maybe you didn't hear me right. The name is E-liz-a-beth. Not Lizzy, not Liz, not Lizbeth. Got it, punk?" she snapped, moving her hands to her hips and standing up to her full height, which was a good six inches shorter than the older boy. Neither of them knew it then, but they would end up dating for a little while in high school. He would eventually cheat on her with an even more brazen girl, and she would elope with Bobby her senior year. But at that moment in summer, she hated him and he was amused by her. Brad would never know about their future romance; he would end up at a different high school than the rest of his childhood friends when he and his adoptive parents moved to the neighboring town, a little place called Denton. But at that moment in summer, he just stood watching and sighed contentedly, feeling that he was in the presence of two gods; she was the most incredible girl he had ever seen, and the newcomer was the tough boy he had always wanted to be just like.

"And I get t' be the other captain," the boy replied, ignoring Elizabeth's speech entirely.

"Says who?" Bobby spoke up loudly, recovering from his awe of this teenager paying attention to their little group. "Aren't you a little old to be hanging out with us, anyway?" he challenged.

Calmly, the older boy grabbed Bobby's shirtfront and lifted him up two inches off the ground. "Says me, kid. And I'm here 'cause it looks like you need some lessons on how to share." He dropped Bobby back to the ground and scoffed, "Thought that's something most people learn when they're babies."

Bobby was sullen, but he made no more reply. Brad had not moved from his spot some distance away from the other kids, so he was utterly dumbfounded when the Texan drawl called his way, "Hey, you there. Kid with the glasses. Get over here."

Brad's mouth suddenly went dry and his palms began to sweat. Tough kids like that only paid attention to nerdy kids like him for one reason: to use them as punching bags. Trying to keep his knees from quaking, he slowly made his way over to the group and stood before the teenager, silently awaiting his fate.

"Okay, you're on my team," was the announcement made, and if it was possible for Brad to be more shocked than he had been a moment before, he was. His knees nearly gave out from under him, and he stared up at the taller boy in amazement.

"You want...me...on your team?" he asked hesitantly. "I mean...I...I..."

What he had been trying to say was that he wasn't very good at kickball. What he had hoped to say was that he wasn't very good at any kind of game except chess. What he had wanted to say was that he came out and played with the neighborhood kids partly because his mother forced him to and partly because he had a secret longing to be accepted into their group. Thankfully, he never had time to spill the contents of his soul onto the dirt of the kickball field.

"Yeah, kid, now shut up. It's your turn to pick, missy," the older boy called over to the pigtailed girl, who glowered at him but didn't make a retort.

Teams were picked, and for once it wasn't the same group of kids being picked last. In fact, the boy named Bobby was the last person to end up on a team, much to his annoyance and Brad's delight. The game got underway; as usual, Brad ended up towards the back of the kicking line, and as usual, he felt that his turn to kick (and subsequently suffer humilation) came much too soon.

"Hey, kid," the team captain said as Brad began to walk towards the plate with his knees knocking. "Don't let 'em get to ya. You just keep yer eye on that ball and kick the livin' hell outta that sucker."

Brad was startled; he had never heard any language stronger than 'aw, heck' on the playground, and even that usually drew a few murmurs and nervous looks. But the teenage boy was just grinning at him, and suddenly, Brad grinned back and nodded enthusiastically.

"Hey," he said, a thought occuring to him out of the blue now that he had found some sort of courage to speak, and he turned around before the ball was rolled towards him. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Eddie. Now shut up and kick the damn ball, kid!" the boy named Eddie replied. Still grinning, Brad turned back towards the pitcher and took his stance, feeling more confident than he ever had before in his life. Bobby was pitching, and of course he rolled the ball faster towards Brad than he ever did to any of the other kids. If Brad had ever been given a fair pitch before, he may have once had a shot at the ball, even with all his nerves. As the ball came towards him, he took a deep breath, clenched his hands into fists, and swung his leg with all his might.

He could only watch, stock still, as the ball sailed into the air over the field in a beautiful arc, spinning up to the sky before making an elegant curve back down. It didn't hit the ground until the edge of the field where the level ground rolled off to a short bank that led to a creek. The outfielders of the other team took off scrambling after the ball, and Brad still didn't move.

"Dammit, kid, run!" he heard Eddie yell behind him, and his legs quickly spun into motion. As he rounded second base, he started to slow down to a jog when he realized that he had kicked the ball with so much momentum, it had rolled off the bank and into the creek below; the other team had disappeared over the bank in search of it. Exhilaration filled him, and he grinned from ear to ear as he slowly jogged to third base, revelling in the feeling. It was a good thing that he did; the home run he made that moment in summer was the only one he would ever have.

The larger palm of the teenage boy clapped Brad roughly on the back as he rounded home base. "Atta boy, kid. That's showin' 'em how it's done!"

Brad couldn't keep from beaming at the compliment; it meant more to him than even the cheers of his other teemmates around him. For the first time in his ten years on Earth, he actually felt accepted by someone other than his family. It was a good feeling.

Close to ten years later, he wouldn't immediately recognize the boy who had stood up for him that day on the kickball field. So used to superficial appearances being what made a person, he wouldn't notice that underneath the shaggy hair dyed blacker than sin and the worn-out leather and the crude tattoos, there was a pair of familiar honest blue eyes that belied all the trouble they'd seen.

He wouldn't realize until the whole thing was over that the young punk he would watch being murdered in a castle halfway between that kickball field and Denton had been his teammate for a moment one summer.

Fri, 13 Jan 2006 00:33:32 GMT

Title: Friends
Fandom: Rocky Horror Picture Show
Characters: Magenta and Columbia
Prompt:Friends
Word Count: 234
Rating: PG
Summary: A brief look at Magenta's musings on her relationship with Columbia
Author's Notes: This could probably stand to be a little longer, but I didn't want to add too much.

If nothing else, Magenta mused, she and Columbia had been friends.

They had shared a strange relationship, the two red-headed women. Although it bordered on sexual sometimes, it never progressed to anything remotely romantic. At times, it was almost a mother-daughter type of affair, with Magenta being the parental figure to Columbia's energetic little girl. Then again, there were times when the two seemed to be unable to stand the sight of one another. It was not uncommon for any combination of all three relationships to occur within a single hour in the castle, and to a casual observer, the two might have seemed to be almost rivals instead of friends.

Still, when things were averaged out, she supposed they really had been friends. Companions of a sort. She had held some feeling for the squeaky young groupie, no matter how annoying the girl could be at times. And a part of her knew that Columbia had looked up to her, for some strange reason. Most likely it was because she had never had any other female to look up to who had paid the least bit of attention to her.

That had to have made them friends, hadn't it?

Then again, Magenta mused as she gazed at Columbia's lifeless body on the floor, friends probably don't stand by and watch silently while one of them is murdered.

First completed fanfic for fanfic100

Sun, 08 Jan 2006 06:42:59 GMT

Title: Nicotine
Fandom: Rocky Horror Picture Show
Characters: Riff Raff/Magenta, mention of others
Prompt: Taste
Word Count: 827
Rating: PG-13 (alludes to incest - hey, it's Rocky Horror)
Summary: Riff Raff reflects on his sister and her addiction
Author's Notes: Just a short little reflection, as most of my pieces are.

He had grown accustomed to the taste of nicotine on her lips. He mused about her strange love for cigarettes as he watched her sitting on the front steps of the castle, having slipped out for a quiet moment alone while one of Frank's parties raged inside. It was rare to see her looking so small, huddled against the background of the huge castle. She was more like a little girl than a woman, and it was slightly disconcerting.

She hadn't smoked on Transexual. There were no cigarettes on their home planet; it was already a world of giving in to desires and fulfilling fantasies. While alcohol was a large part of society, and there were a few drugs in existence, plain cigarettes were not needed. He had found that many of the Earthlings seemed to smoke in order to either escape, to make themselves appear more attractive, or both. They needed the excitement that something as mundane as nicotine addiction provided.

Frank had started smoking because he had seen a young boy in a leather jacket doing so and had subsequently decided that it was an attractive practice. Columbia seldom joined him in sharing a cigarette; she complained that the smoke wasn't good for her vocal chords. Magenta was a different story. She and Frank had a strange relationship, one that even Riff Raff could never entirely understand. It wasn't exactly friendship...but she was probably the closest thing to an actual friend that the arrogant young transvestite had ever had. He would yell at her as his servant one moment, then turn right around and offer her a drink the next. Oddly enough, his offers never seemed to be in the interest of any sort of sexual relationship. Sex and power were Frank's greatest pleasures, but somehow, he and Magenta had an unspoken understanding that he would never have sex with her or have complete power over her. As much as she despised Earth and their "mission", she only seemed to hate Frank himself when he was cruel to her beloved brother. So as long as she kept up the appearance of being a faithful servant and he never advanced farther than she wished, they seemed to be in a tentative peace treaty, if nothing else.

Frank was the one who had gotten her started on cigarettes. One day, he had offered one to her, and she had taken it, not wishing to cause trouble when it could be avoided. After that, she had smoked at least a handful of them a day, when she could get her hands on them. She had never become a heavy smoker; smoking was something she normally saved for relaxing, and they had precious little time to relax around the castle. Still, her breaks were frequent enough to keep the taste in her mouth for a little while. It was there when she held her tongue against something annoying Frank said, preferring to calm down and save her temper for when it was needed instead of letting it boil up inside of her the way her brother did. It was there when her brother's lips pressed against her own, stealing kisses when they could get away for a moment or when they were alone together at night. The taste had become a part of her, the same way her red lipstick was forever stained upon her lips and the smokey shadows never left her eyelids.

The cigarette dangled unlit from her mouth, the ash-white paper it was rolled in a stark contrast to her blood-red mouth, which was in turn a stark contrast to her ash-white face. He watched her silently, still far enough away so that, lost in her own thoughts as she was, she hadn't yet noticed his presence. She sucked on the end of the cigarette, staring ahead of her with her elbows resting on her knees and her shoulders slightly hunched. In that moment, Riff Raff pitied his sister, so alienated from the world around her. She didn't belong there any more than he did, although she had done a much better job at pretending to fit in. She had always been the more adaptive of the two. Still, looking at her caught between the amber glow shining from the house lights and the pale white reflection of the moon, he had never seen anyone look more out of place. No wonder she needed an addiction to stay sane.

Walking over to her, he took a seat beside her on the step. She barely glanced his way, and he wondered briefly if she had known he was standing there watching her all along. Reaching over, he plucked the cigarette out of her lips, then leaned in to kiss her softly, revelling in the mingled tastes of nicotine and her.

Sun, 08 Jan 2006 01:55:10 GMT

Not a Rocky Horror fic, actually, although I do have a couple in the works. Short, somewhat depressing ficlet centered around Minerva McGonagall. Probably still needs quite a bit of editing.

December was cold.

It was always cold in December at Hogwarts. In the middle of Scotland, the weather was bound to be harsh around the winter holidays. Always a white Christmas, always children tromping in the snow in the courtyard between classes, filled with excitement over the impending Christmas vacation. The halls would be filled with red and green, with candles and tinsel. Hogwarts was always very beautiful in December.

Somehow, this year seemed colder, though the snow was less. Instead of reds and greens and yellows and silvers, the whole world seemed to be varying shades of grey.

At least, that's what Minerva McGonagall saw when she looked out her window. Maybe it was because she wasn't looking down at the ground below, where there might have been children and color and some small hints of laughter in spite of the dark times they were facing. Sitting in the windowseat of her chambers with her knees drawn up to her chest, she stared at the sky, the grey clouds reflected in her grey eyes.

The sky seemed only one more painful reminder that she was alone. It seemed an eternity since she had gazed upon blue skies...but perhaps that was because she had only really noticed the sky when it was reflected in a pair of twinkling blue eyes that had recently gone missing from her life.

He used to say she was the summer to his winter. He teased her about how she was much too young to act as old as she did, though she was far past girlhood. A good thirty years her senior, he was an unexpected friend to her, both when she was a student at Hogwarts and when she became a professor. She had always secretly thought he had the pair of them pegged a little backwards. No matter how much older and wiser he was, she always saw him as being the summer of her life, with herself being the winter. She was sternness and realism and maturity. He was laughter and optimism and youth. Above all else, he was blue skies.

The sensible side of her could say that the sun went on rising and setting without him. The stern Headmistress of Hogwarts knew that the sky still shone blue on sunny days. However, her intellect couldn't stop her from feeling a constant, unshakable chill in the months since he had been gone. It didn't stop her already-thin form dropping several pounds off; she ate no more than was required to stop her stomach from growling because food no longer held any taste for her. Most of her once-favorite dishes only reminded her that he had been the one to first introduce them to her, and she couldn't stomach them without feeling nauseous.

Of course, on the outside, she remained perfectly in control. The rest of the faculty noticed that she seemed drawn and thin, but they didn't dare mention anything to her. Most of them had convinced themselves that it was the stress of the new job that was taking a toll on her. No one really had any room to reprimand her for not eating or criticize her for being a little colder than usual; many of them were acting in much the same manner since the Dark Lord's return. There was no more sugar-coating things for the students. It was very hard to sugar-coat a war that had every possibility of being the end of their world.

Some of them knew that ALbus' death had something to do with her manner. Those who had noticed that she would not speak to his portrait in her office...and that the portrait, out of respect for her feelings, had not uttered a word to her yet. He merely watched in silence, and she pretended that he was not there at all. When the time was right, when she really needed his advice, she would come to him for it. But she could not simply carry on a conversation with a two-dimensional shadow of the only person in her adult life who had ever really seen her for anything more than stern, strict Professor McGonagall.

So she sat by her window, her forehead resting against the cold glass, not even noticing that the fire in her room was no longer burning and the chill seeping through the window should have prompted her to move away from it. The cold was something she was used to by now.

December was always cold.