In garments of adieu

Title: This Isn’t a Spectator Sport
Author: kitsune_kitana
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Warnings: voyeurism, exhibitionism, shades of d/s
Word Count: 3,332
Summary: Eames watches Arthur get off while they're on different jobs. A story of Skype flirting and self-abuse.

And off topic, does anyone have an AO3 invitation that they could share? I'm looking to store my fic somewhere centralized. Thanks in advance!

( 'Oh, Arthur,' Eames sighs. 'Darling, you look exhausted.' )

Reluctant words, meet your playground.

The US was just disqualified from the World Cup by Ghana. I am shamelessly consoling myself with the sweet salve (read: utter trash) that is The Janice Dickinson Modeling Agency. Nothing makes watching your country get torn apart less painful than watching even more beautiful twenty-somethings get torn down by the neurotic Janice Dickinson.

Come on...three, two, one, let's jam!

It's 2:24 in the morning and I'm riding on a paper-writing high. The only thing I've got running in my veins is Red Bull and the sweet acid-trip that is four hours of sleep and 23 windows of academic journals open on my browser, each begging to be handled roughly, thrown down and plucked of their knowledge and words, waiting to see if they'll be made mine or cast aside like vile refuse. Oh, Mainichi Shinbun polls, you mercurial vixens, giving me glimpses of your hidden treasures then denying their existence on the Stanford Research Databases--why art thou yet so fair? Shall I believe that unsubstantial death is amorous, and that the lean abhorred monster keeps thee here in dark to be his paramour?

Fifteen hours and I'll be whisked away to San Francisco, thrown into the barbarian crowd of Arctic Monkeys fans at the Warfield, fighting with tooth and nail to get to the very front of the brutal hoarde. Alex Turner, croon those clever lyrics while I'm close enough to appreciate your wit in spite of your spotty face. Andy Nicholson--despite being the "heartiest" member of the band, your extra 25 pounds hides a delicate constitution and I understand completely why you'd be too exhausted to join the American tour; godspeed to you. Jamie Cook, Matt Helders, one of you is hot and one of you is not but I can never remember which and don't think I'll learn in time for your show--I'll take both of you back to my dorm room and we'll have some fun on top of a volume of Elizabeth Miller's "What's in a Condom?--HIV and Sexual Politics in Japan." It'll be marvelous.

In other words, I have someone coming over to my room with an XL mug of french-pressed Kona coffee and some freshly shipped acai berries. Here's to another all-night(morning?)-long thesis-gasm.

Oh, yeah. This is what it means to be a Stanford student.

I'd like to make an announcement about the translations on my journal. I've decided that I am no longer going to post translations on this livejournal until everything is caught up for masakarasu. Sorry for the stall that will put on Miyavi news, but I feel like masakarasu requires my full attention and I really want the community up and running as soon as possible. The only way to get completely caught up is to focus on finishing old entries at the cost of posting newer entries. But since only editing is required for old entries, it really shouldn't take that long at all. Everyone who hasn't yet should go over there and check us out!

In any case, consider these translations to be a "tiny hiatus" offering. This one's especially for kasei463 who's making sure I stay on the ball when it comes to translating Miyavi. *grin*

( Melutomo 5/16 )

( Miyavi Diary Entry 5/19 )

What I would give to be at that Rock Festival! I love Franz Ferdinand and Snow Patrol! Of course, Miyavi too. Black Eyed Peas....what the hell are they doing at a Rock show? I vaguely remember liking Placebo, but I'm not really sure.

In any case, I'm going to be seeing Arctic Monkeys on the 31st--it should be an amazing show!

( Melutomo 5/15 )

I try and pretend to be mature about this whole Miyavi thing, but I'm watching old LFX episodes (procrastinating so that I don't have to write my paper) and, I swear, every time he plays with that lip ring of his I become a cooing fangirl all over again.

He keeps using his tongue to spin the piercing in and out, pressing the spike between his lips, a little half-smile on his face. I'm reminded of the point when I realized that licking your bottom lip was a suggestive thing to do, somehow more suggestive than doing the same against your top lip. Why is that? When you're kissing, you focus on the bottom lip; it's a little pouty, fuller even on the most thin-lipped person, perfect for wetting, for teeth, for teasing. Most people can't pull off licking their bottom lip naturally though; the motion comes off as contrived, a deliberate attempt to show off an attraction to someone else (mostly) and to yourself (sometimes--because you have to acknowledge that it's sexy only because you look good doing it). Except people with lip piercings, of course. Everyone with a piercing has experienced the compulsion to play with it, to explore it because it's foreign and strange, something alien that was never a part of your natural skin. But here's the difference: a piercing through the lip not only has the advantage of being perfectly placed to set off one of the most titillating parts of the body, it is also close to the only thing on the human body as dexterous as the fingers--your tongue. Naturally, there's no need to use your hands when your tongue can manipulate just as well.

So, no one should really blame me for watching LFX and thinking pink, wet, dirty thoughts while Miyavi purposefully--obliviously--sends me off to some sexual nirvana full of pretty boys showing off their soft, pierced lips and deft tongues.