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electricwalrus, you might be amused by the last few entries from mctabby. She went spork. And here I thought that "I relentlessly desire your custard tongue between my eyelids" was just her fangirling my fic with a bizarre come-on.

And the [LJ-less] Caroline-Kechara-Bleudragen complex might rejoice to welcome strange_fire. For it is she who ringeth the hubcap with my bra, she who bestowith the hickey, she who I spent long nights reading Harry Potter aloud to (Shrieking Shack scene! Chapters 32-36 in GoF! Dramatic presentations! Whoo!), she who, at school, read the output of my muses and found it Good and gave me much joyous support. *nods vigorously*

Wrote more of "A Lexicon of Serpents" last night. Prefects meeting. Behold the swarm of unidentified background OCs, two Weasleys, Joe Bones (Susan's grandpa, and eventually to be killed in the war with a certain Slytherin sixth-year) as Head Boy, Minerva McGonagall as Head Girl (naturally), Poppy Pomfrey and a Stebbins amongst the Hufflepuffs, a Random Longbottom and Random Rosier, VacuumCleaner!Dippett, BoredStiff!Moody, OglingMoody!Tom, and lots of stained glass. *nods some more*

Comments

[mctabby.livejournal.com]

And here I thought that "I relentlessly desire your custard tongue between my eyelids" was just her fangirling my fic with a bizarre come-on.

But it was, it was! Hee. (Any chance that Tom might use that line on Alastor?)

Your prefects sound like fun. Also planning a prefect meeting in TWIB. :)

Saw your intro at the Witchfics Cafe - yay, thanks for checking it out!

Custard squees.

[wired-lizard.livejournal.com]

How about the other way around?

"And what am I supposed to say?" I say weakly, still poking at the wall from time to time as if hoping it might vanish and I could escape from the Slytherin pinning me to it. "I relentlessly desire you custard tongue between my eyelids?"

"Custard," he deadpans. He's still smoldering at me. Oh bloody hell. His hands are moving again, too. One going south--he can't possibly be!--no, just resting it on the side of my waist. Don't move it higher, mister, I'm ticklish. One running up my arm--pinning my wand hand firmly to the wall. God damn. Why am I still standing here?

"You're mad," I whisper.

"And you're the one that sounds like a Surrealist parlor game." His tone is playful; his eyes are not, only hungry, and the hand on my waist slides up to tug at the knot of my tie. God damn!

"Surrealist parlor game," I hear myself say. "Sounds bloody kinky."

"Quite." He darts his head forward and licks my ear. A chill runs from my head to my toes, back up again, and I'm burning in its wake.

"Damn it, Riddle, someone's going to see us!" I hiss. His fingers slip under my loosened tie, run lightly across my throat. Why haven't I lifted my left hand? Why aren't I knocking his hand away from my neck? I'm almost afraid he might start to strangle me at any moment--the hunger in his eyes is so dark I can't tell whether he'll bruise and bleed me the next time he kisses me.

*Next* time!

"Ah, Alastor," he breathes, his mouth bare inches from mine, "such a lovely choice of pronoun..."

My blood pounding in my ears, my instincts driving me, I dart my head forward and kiss him into silence before he can say anything to make my cheeks burn harder.

And my prefects are fun--some of them have taken to t00bing noisily around in my head. Particularly Annabel "The Tiger" Goyle, Slytherin seventh-year prefect on the girl's side, several inches taller than Tom, one of the top ten students in the school, and creator of the Accio boyfriend! variant on the Summoning Charm.

Oooh, TWIB prefects meeting. That should be fun. Oh, ph34r the politics... *fangirls*

(Messing around with attempting to edit this comment due to a grammatical error when writing random ficness in a comments window. It went screened; it went poof; now it's back; now I know a little more about LJ. Damn, I miss edit buttons. Anyway, that explains my t00bery.)

In your presence even my shadow acquires the sensation of touch.

[mctabby.livejournal.com]

*falling off chair at the custard line*

Damn, I do admire how you interweave action and description and motivation - it's ever so smooth and lovely. *is jealous* All Tom's little movements and Alastor's reactions played out in bursts of bright imagery that seem to work on many levels at once, somehow. I'm not sure how you do what you do, but you're doing it right - I was completely drawn in by the two of them, even in a short fragment like this.

*throwing chocolate at Arkady* You rock. This is wonderful. :)

Send me your hang nails. With great eagerness I will knit them into divine papal integuments.

[wired-lizard.livejournal.com]

*blushes*

Well, I don't know how I do it either, but it must be working. Oh the encouragement squees! :)

*schnoogles Tabby, nibbles chocolate*

squee!

[ex-strange-f774.livejournal.com]

Finally, I may comment upon your live journal entries under my true identity!

And yeah, write stuff of my own. I actually did that today. Go me!

Re: squee!

[wired-lizard.livejournal.com]

See, isn't it lovely?