My half of the free writtens exchange on deviantART, this one with Seppy, who wanted Quezzelin. Hope you like it, dear!

( On the Cliff by the Sea )

My half of a sketch/fic trade with pockygirl. She wanted her original character Mik, and (unwisely) gave me the freedom to do to him whatever I wanted.

This is what I wanted. Hope you like it, dear!

( Illusions )

Exactly 999 words of a story that was supposed to be a quick 150-word drabble to go along with the drawing I did for Seppy. Who knew the muses were going to be talkative? *laughs*

Just so everyone's clear, Ezzelin and Quincy are © Seppy, and I'm pretty sure this story is hers, too, since they're her characters and it was written for her. Interesting, I wonder what the actual legality of that is. /geek

Anyway, enjoy! Story's worksafe, image isn't, just so you know. *nods*

( Reading )

Promised ... oh goodness, when did I promise to start doing fairytales? Sometime early- or mid-Fall quarter, certainly. And oh, my first attempt at this story was a massive failure, I had, at one point, Quincy coming out of a refrigerator. Don't ask me, I don't know what I was thinking, all I know is that it happened, and then I was like "whut" and scrapped the fic.

So! Here's the better version. No one's in a refrigerator, and it's close enough to count as a fairytale abuse. Enjoy!

Also, please note that Ezzelin, Quincy, Nicholai, and Nicholai's pillow are all © Seppy, they're not mine, and I don't recommend writing them without permission, Julius will fricassee you if you try. *nods*

( Ezzelin's New Clothes )

Ah, late-late-late-late-late! Goodness. This was supposed to be finished sometime back when pumpkins and jack-o-lanterns made sense, but I suck and had no inspiration and [insert other dull-witted excuses here] so here it is now. Consider this story my celebration that my research is DONE, now just to write the thesis and GRADUATE THE HELL OUT OF HERE.

/rant

Quincy, Ezzelin, Nicky, and even dear Bourbon are all © Seppy, but she was dear enough to let me play with them. Enjoy the story! ♥

( Triangle, Circle, Square )

Fourth brain-exchange with Seppy, or second in the second pair. My prompt this time, and for some reason it was easier again. I think my brain is biased. *nods*

This follows the last one I posted, but it can kinda maybe stand alone? I don't know. It's like 1 A.M. here, I don't really know at all what's going on anymore.

I hope you like the story!

( Drift )

This is ... how to say it? It feels really weird, like it's the meat taken from a much longer story. But, as these characters are NOT mine, I figure I should probably leave the epic-long arc-writing to their actual writer, so here's what I've got.

That said, this story was a bitch to write. I hope the angst comes through well enough? Oh, and ask Seppy what's up with Ezz. She'll be able to tell you. Oh-oh and I cheated on the prompt, you get massive m3Qbrain points if you can figure out where the connection is, yeah.

( Accident )

First in a series of art/fic trades with Seppy. We need a name for this, maybe prompt-exchange? Secret Santa? I don't want to know about Santa's secrets. Don't like the idea of war, either, there's too much of that in this world.

So maybe we'll call it the Brain Exchange? I like that, gives me a nice gross mental image and everything.

This is written for her prompt: "Clean gloves hide dirty hands." I, as usual, took horrid liberties with the prompt, but it's the character she wanted so I hope it's okay.

( Beneath )

Written in celebration of PseudoNonchalance's 80k views over on y!gallery. Congratulations, hon!

Callum and Justin are hers, I just borrowed them long enough to play with them. I hope I kind of got them okay, dear!! ♥

( Critique )

I've lately discovered a part of my brain that isn't very well liked by the rest of the greymatter. It's a part that's taken to recognizing love where, before, I'd thought there was nothing but fetish, a part that's not willing to believe that there's obligatory love in things that can be chalked up to nothing more than mechanics.

My reaction to that part of my own brain has been pretty negative. I'm still struggling with it. A lot.

This story came about when I had a realization about a piece of artwork. I won't spill out my life-story to you, but I will say that it's very much like the feeling I had when I realized I was gay. I wrote this so that I wouldn't have to bolt back into the farthest corner of the closet, because honestly, right now, that's looking like a very welcoming spot.

[Edit]: Added some stuff to the front of it, just on a whim. Maybe to make it clearer. I hope so.

( Illusion )