(no subject)

I HATE being sick! I really do. I hate being helpless and shivery and in bed for a whole fricking day! And I hate it even more when the weather round hear decides to mark the occasion with a marked drop in temperature.
I woke up with blood in my mouth because my lip had cracked during the night. Not bitten. Cracked.

*turns on all available heaters, hugs hot chocolate, sulks*

Random

White

The room was white, warm and open and full of soft shadows. He lay by the window, his pale hands spread like silver tracery over the sheets, his head sinking into the white softness. His eyes were half-closed, a mere suggestion of awareness as he watched the silver-grey shadows of the leaves as they danced on the wall. The wind outside was a hollow, gentle whistling, reminding him of the world beyond the window at his back, reminding him of the phantom, white-gold sun that glowed in grey, pearlescent skies. His world was quiet, colourless, a place of waiting for some fiercer thing, some new and pristine glory.

He smiled, and let his eyes slip gently closed. It could wait.  

Old P/Q fic

And this one, I'm actually real nervous about putting up, because I've posted it elsewhere before, a couple of years back, when I was young and innocent and starting out as a fanfic writer. But ... I'm fond of it, and I kinda want to bring it on with me to LJ. So. Here it be:

Title:  A Far Distant Star
Fandom:  ST:TNG
Rating:  PG-13
Characters/Pairings:  Picard/Q, Deanna
Summary:  Q accidentally reveals rather more than he ever intended to while trying to help Deanna out, and Jean-Luc gets landed in the middle of it.
Wordcount:  5319
Disclaimer:  It's Paramount what owns them, ain't it?

 

( Now what have you done, Q? )