(no subject)

Eros, Laughed
Rating: M-ish
Pairing: Roy/Ed
Summary: Mustang is a dirty perv.

"The spiritual result of love is not viable and, having expired, undergoes decomposition." Jung-- Pyschology and Alchemy

The first time, it had been pining. That's the word Riza had used to describe this feeling. Well, perhaps not this feeling in particular. She had been speaking about Havoc and yet another end to an unfortunate romance. But, with no offense intended to his dear friend, he did not believe they were wanting in the same way. Pining just seemed inadequate, so innocent and lonely. Collapse )

Critique Please


The fingers of fire curled around the car,
like hands cupping something fragile.
Her own gripped the steering wheel,
white from fear rather than heat.

She recalled once, while waiting for her latte,
glimpsing a newspaper still neatly folded
on its shelf that people, in some country
both irrelevant and inconceivable to herself,
were setting themselves on fire in protest.

Her lips were salty with sweat and blood,
and a roar swelled in her brain in time
with the heat that tugged at her woolen slacks
and polyblend sweater.

Even through the concussive mud,
the fire was beautiful; twisting into
buttressed cathedral arches outside
the spidery, starred windshield.

A very small, very reluctant part of her
thought she could now understand,
that she might now appreciate,
the cleansing clarity of fire.

The calico curtains of heat finally faded
behind the dark, oily smoke, and she knew
she had misunderstood the nature
of burning all along.

this evening

There is something here.
Something sad and something quiet.
That rolls into the city
On the storms.

It rides the cold front south
Dipping to earth on icy rain.
Slithering into the smoke
Of cigarettes burned to the filter.

A deep inhale
A sigh
And it enters my lungs
Before becoming an
Unwelcome guest in my heart

(no subject)

  Holy shit!  I wrote stuff!  Posting to guilt self into writing more...

Title:  Apoptosis
Author: tyndall_blue
Rating: T
Summary:  Edward Elric is a prodigy in the realm of biomedical science, pursuing Gene Therapy with a passion bordering on obsession. He's come to seek the support and funding of LysoTech's Genomic Therapy program, under the direction of Dr. Roy Mustang.

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unlike atlas

unlike atlas

Sometimes I fear
That the weight of
The world will crush me

My bones will be powdered
Fine enough for porcelain
And baked by the sun

My very being, 
Stretched thinner than
The fabric of the universe,
Is punctured by each
Unhappy accident.
Leaving my skin speckled
With each still healing sadness

I worry
That unlike Atlas
My trembling arms
Will give and send the globe
Reeling from my shoulders
And rolling across my back
Smoothing the hunch
From years of hefty burden

Two Poems

one new

Murder in Three Parts



My heart jackhammers my ribs
pounding away at the
not quite bone of my sternum
with no regard for my lungs
or the other bits of viscera
that swell and subside in a similar tempo.

But, I understand it’s fear
it’s clamoring anxiety,
wanting to occupy any place
in space and time but here.


Behind us, the house is burning.
Lapping at the evidence
of 16 years and combing
hot fingers down the still,
golden backs of two dead dogs
and the dying family,
held to their beds in
a drugged sleep.

By now, their own hearts
should have stopped their clamouring.
The lungs wilting to stillness in the heat.


How the fire started
is hard to say.
Whether it was the match,
or the long dry summer,
or even the ancient pine floors.

Regardless, the roof
caves in and firetruck
wheels the corner, hoses
already half unfurled.
My heart slows, and
begins the giddy beat of freedom.

Stray Cats


a few nights ago i was startled awake
by silence seeping through the cracks in
your windows and the cold
shivers it sent down my back

it smothers the room
and playfully bats aside

the casual drone of
your fan like an insect
and searches the corners of darkness
for other mischief

i am still and watch you sleep
and my heart hammers with fear
at the conspicious absence of noise

but now - the hush is here
settling contentedly at the foot
of your bed kneading tiny paws
and no amount of wishing will
summon the sounds of the
streets to dislodge it

the silence blinks at me slowly
as i press close to you
curling small fingers around your arm
my face pressed to your shoulder

and i brace myself

for the aftermath of our catastrophe
and the taciturnity of the moment purrs
and stretches out on its back
begging me to scratch its belly like an old friend

(no subject)

It's time to play the "How much Ativan does it take until Blue is unconscious?" game!!!  So far...3mg and it's been an hour with no real effect...I would really like to sleep through the pain

(no subject)

Look, it's Yosemite! I climbed Half-Dome! I'm terrified of heights, but after making it all the way to the sheer rock face, it felt stupid to not go the last 400 yards. In case you didn't know, that face is 45 degree angle with two steel cables bolted into the rock face. It's stop and go all the way up. I made it 20 feet before starting to sob hysterically. Strangely, the guy climbing up behind me was a psychiatrist and his teenage son was a sweetheart who gave me a hug when I got to the top. I then proceeded to pace neurotically until my hiking partners wanted to climb back down. STILL TERRIFYING!

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Too Nevada!

As I'm sure, steinsgrrl remembers, I spent a period of time roaming the western US doing field surveys for the Great Basin Bird Observatory and some plant surveys for Otis Bay Ecological Consultants. Honestly, best job of my life and I'd drop everything and do it again if the funding were available. That aside, I'm getting burnt out on Costa Rica photos, so decided to get some Nevada ones worked through.

1-field 095

Hi-ho, hi-ho...

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