DH = Designated Hitter
Sep. 24th, 2011 01:08 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
campylobacter.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
sga_santaLiveJournal: ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
campylobacter
E-mail: campyspornshack [at] gmail [dot] com
Things I'd like: I wish to pinch-hit, and spread good will to all fen.
Things I wouldn't like: Less than 48 hours to pinch-hit.
What I can do: BRING IT ON. Gen, rare pairing, het, M/M & F/F slash, character death, kink, MPreg, rape, crack, action/adventure, romance, multiples porn, priests, go-carts, bacon... you name it. Hell, I even love Kavanaugh.
What I can't do: child abuse kink or child molestation kink (Not as though anyone requests that, but JSYK.) Character or pairing bashing I can only do as crack/parody/satire. Crossovers with fandoms I'm not familiar with will be cracky & random.
Pinch hitter?: Yes, my RL work schedule is back to normal.
campylobacterE-mail: campyspornshack [at] gmail [dot] com
Things I'd like: I wish to pinch-hit, and spread good will to all fen.
Things I wouldn't like: Less than 48 hours to pinch-hit.
What I can do: BRING IT ON. Gen, rare pairing, het, M/M & F/F slash, character death, kink, MPreg, rape, crack, action/adventure, romance, multiples porn, priests, go-carts, bacon... you name it. Hell, I even love Kavanaugh.
What I can't do: child abuse kink or child molestation kink (Not as though anyone requests that, but JSYK.) Character or pairing bashing I can only do as crack/parody/satire. Crossovers with fandoms I'm not familiar with will be cracky & random.
Pinch hitter?: Yes, my RL work schedule is back to normal.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-09-26 03:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-26 03:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-26 05:44 pm (UTC)Rebbe Kavanagh
Date: 2011-09-26 09:43 pm (UTC)Re: Rebbe Kavanagh
Date: 2011-09-27 02:46 am (UTC)A Very Rebbe Kavanagh Xmas
Date: 2011-09-27 02:49 am (UTC)ChristmasChanukah is here early this year. ;DRe: A Very Rebbe Kavanagh Xmas
Date: 2011-09-27 03:14 am (UTC)Re: Rebbe Kavanagh
Date: 2011-09-28 12:28 am (UTC)Re: Rebbe Kavanagh
Date: 2011-09-30 11:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-27 01:01 am (UTC)Hahahahaha
squeaky
no subject
Date: 2011-09-27 01:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-27 02:54 am (UTC)The first time Peter Kavanagh drove a go cart he was sixteen, and he had never even driven a car. It was during his rumspringa, and his parents feared he would stray from the faith with booze and women. But they were so very wrong; the mechanical thrum of the small motor made the steering wheel vibrate in his hands. Surely the good Lord had meant for him to ride in one of these--not those old horse-drawn buggies. Trying to convince his parents of this would be no easy task. There might even be a shunning.
no subject
Date: 2011-09-27 03:16 am (UTC)It was all a blur after that: the mangled go-kart, the pain of air rushing back into his lungs as a blue-eyed angel breathed for him and wiped a smear of red -- Peter's blood -- from his handsome face. The scream of sirens drowned out the soft words coming from the man's lips, and then he sank back into dreamless black.
When he woke, Elizabeth Weir stood over him, her face drawn and worried. "Thanks be," she murmured. "It's not your fault Simon is now with the Lord."
Simon Wallis, Elizabeth's betrothed from another enclave, was the man whose Scottish forebears enriched their vocabularies with strange nicknames, including the short form of "good wife" that he called Elizabeth in anticipation of their hoped-for nuptials.
"Hey there, stranger," the blue eyes of the man who'd resuscitated him came into focus. "Good thing I had medical training in the service. I'm Evan. Evan Lorne."
no subject
Date: 2011-09-27 03:36 am (UTC)"What...what happened?" he asked groggily. He made a half-attempt to sit up, but the man who introduced himself as Evan pressed him firmly back against his pillow.
"Near as can be told," Goody Weir began, "a snake spooked Simon's horses and the buggy turned over into the ditch. But the horses didn't stop, kept a-runnin', as horses do when they're spooked. Draggin' that buggy... And poor Simon along, too." She paused and dabbed at her eyes.
"The horses turned toward the field to avoid you," Evan continued for her. "The cart snapped free and you collided with it."
"That *stupid* machine," Goody Weir whispered.
Evan threw a glance Peter's way, then smiled. As Goody Weir daubed at her eyes again, Evan gripped Peter's hand for a fleeting moment, and gave it a gentle squeeze.
No, Peter's father definitely didn't need to worry that a woman would make him stray...
no subject
Date: 2011-09-28 12:25 am (UTC)For some reason that Peter could not fathom Evan had seemed to name himself both Peter's protector and keeper, staying closer to his side than even Peter's brother had when they'd shared the single bed in the one-room cabin where Peter had grown up.
"Not good," the doctor said with a small shake of his head. His brows were drawn down over his striking blue-green eyes, which made his expression look like he was both amused and puzzled at the same time.
"What is it?" Evan said, eyes wide. He slid his hand over and gripped Peter's tightly in his own.
Peter felt his heart start to race, faster than the go-cart that had gotten him into this mess. He tried to sit up but a jab of pain jabbed him and he gasped.
"Careful," the doctor said, moving closer, and Peter could now see his name tag: 'J. Quinn, MD.' "try not to move."
Peter nodded carefully, swallowing against the dry fear in his throat.
"Doctor?" Evan said quietly, but with the force of command.
"I'm sorry," the doctor said, and his eyes when he looked at Peter were deep blue-green pools of sadness; "you'll never deive a go-cart again."
no subject
Date: 2011-09-28 03:54 am (UTC)"Not..." Evan couldn't bring himself to say the word. "Not...paralyzed? Surely, not that!"
Dr. J. Quinn scribbled something onto Peter's chart. The doctor wrote with his right hand, but wore his watch on his right wrist as well. It was a quirk Evan would normally find endearing, but today, he forced himself to focus on Peter.
"The paralysis might only be temporary. In spinal injuries such as his, a full recovery is rare, but possible," Dr. Quinn said. "We'll just have to wait until the swelling goes down to see."
Evan frowned. It was a strength of his, he'd been told, to make the swelling go down, but this was not what the young doctor had meant. So he shook the fantasy from his mind and focused on Peter.
Dr. Quinn gave Peter a small, hopeful smile and left the room.
"I could get you something to eat," Evan said once they were alone.
"Bacon," Peter requested. "A big pile of crisp greasy bacon. It'll be my last luxury..." He trailed off, a wistful expression in his eyes as he thought fondly on his go cart, surely scrap metal by now. If *he* could no longer ride... Whatever would he do with himself? His only chance at happiness now lay with Evan: would the Air Force Adonis take Peter's place as driver in the tournament? Surely Peter could ride shotgun if he built a two-seater. A shared victory might lead to other forms of sharing. If he must choose between the blessing and the curse, Peter knew which he would take.
...can't...breathe...laughing too hard!
Date: 2011-09-29 02:36 am (UTC)Peter could feel the hot brush of Evan's breath against his neck, and shivered.
He could feel Evan's smile; "did you like that?"
"y-yes," Peter gasped as Evan's lips pressed gently against the junction where his ear met his neck. Peter swallowed, letting his eyes drift shut from the delicate sensation. His toes curled under the blanket.
Peter's eyes flew open. "Major," he whispered.
"Shhhh," Evan muttered against his neck, where his lips were marking a slightly damp trail down to Peter's shoulders. "I've never made it with a Rabbi before..."
"Major!" Peter said again, a bit more forcefully. The sensations against his skin from Evan's mouth was making his toes curl and his feet flex. He pushed against Evan's shoulder. "Major!"
Evan sat up, disappointment apparent in his sky-blue eyes. "What's wrong? I mean, I know it's only been a couple of hours since your accident, but I thought you were into me--"
"I am!" Peter exclaimed, and then blushed as he realized that he'd just revealed something that no virginal Amish boy or slightly-more experienced Rabbi should.
Evan looked at him, one dark eyebrow raised and a clear invitation curling up his lips. "Well, those hospital beds *are* very narrow, but I'm sure I--"
"No, wait!" Peter exclaimed, pointing at his feet that he was now lifting straight up from the bed. "Look!"
Evan's eyes widened. "Peter! You can walk!"
"Well, I'm not exactly *walking*," Peter explained, "but it is a good start!" Maybe the go-kart championship wasn't completely out of reach after all.
"you can walk!" "I'm not exactly walking." LULZ FOREVER.
Date: 2011-09-29 03:42 am (UTC)"You know, it'd be really nice if you called me Evan," the Major said with a smile.
"Do you know what this means?" Peter exclaimed with a rigorous excitement. "I may not have to drop out of the race after all!"
Peter knew that this Rosh Hashanah would be one for the memory books. His first go cart race approaching, where he would race a cart so sleek and magnificent, and crafted by his own hands. His meeting of Evan, who'd more than saved his life--a debt which Peter more than intended to repay, *with* interest. His joy at the temporariness of the paralysis, which meant he *would* get to dance with the Torah after all.
And then there was the sudden and unexpected reemergence of Jonas Quinn, the young Amish boy who'd given Peter his first orgasm, who'd run away from the enclave at fifteen so he could go to high school and college and pursue medicine.
Peter smiled at Evan, whispered his name as Evan sat beside him on the bed and snaked a hand under the blankets covering him. The only thing that would make his life anymore perfect was bacon.
Jonas Quinn! The former Amish medical doctor!!!!
Date: 2011-09-29 08:05 pm (UTC)Peter felt his jaw go slack. It was almost like the doctor had just read his mind. "What?"
"I'm sorry, I know how you feel about *bacon*," the doctor said, and Peter knew from his emphasis that he might have been referring to more than just the smoked pork product. "But your condition is very precarious right now. Anything could tip you over the edge into a permanent injury. Walking, go-cart riding, greasy meat..."
"Whoa, whoa," Evan, the terribly handsome Airforce Major said, holding up the hand that wasn't still clutching Peter's with near-bruising force. "What do you mean 'no go-carts?'"
Peter looked at Evan, whose expression was one of total consternation. He felt Evan's grip loosen and his hand slip away. *What's wrong?* Peter thought, concern and worry pulling his full lips (yes he knew he had full lips) down into an enderingly plump pout. *Isn't it me he cares about, not my mad go-cart skills?*
"We have to win the championship!" Evan was saying, his hands held out imploringly to the doctor. "Surely you can understand that!"
"Hm," Dr. Quinn said, looking thoughful. He turned his deep blue-green eyes to Peter, a question written in his drawn-down brows. "I used to be a fair go-cart driver in my day. What do you think, Peter? Could we strike a bargan?"
Peter felt a rushing of heat to his lower anatomy by the way the doctor had licked his lips after he said 'bargan.' It reminded him of that day behind his family's barn back in Amish country, before Jonas had left to discover the world of modern acaedemia.
"We could do that," he said slowly, watching Jonas' beautiful mouth curl up into a beautiful smile...
that day behind his family's barn
Date: 2011-09-30 01:51 am (UTC)Peter punched the air, desperate to punch the damn barn wall instead. "I can't!" he protested, but only with his words; his entire being was aching to take Jonas up on his offer to flee the countryside and its bumpkins, not to mention Goody Weir and Elder Landry. "My father was already angry enough about my rumspringa, he nearly died of a heart attack. Leaving now would certainly destroy him."
If Peter thought his father had been furious about finding the Torah and Kippah hidden under his mattress, it was nothing compared to the fury in his eyes at seeing that metal contraption parked in the empty horse stall.
"Come on," Jonas pleaded with his deep blue-green--or were they greenish blue?--eyes. "Your efforts here are wasted; they'll never have the reverence for the worldly knowledge and Hebraic wisdom that you possess. You can besomething out there."
"Aren't I something here?" Peter argued. "I am making progress with the elders; perhaps not Landry," Peter consented, "and definitely not Weir, but the others... They know that with this lifestyle they can ill afford to stay bridled to the past."
Then Jonas' eyes caught a glint of light and he smiled. That award-winning million-dollar smile that Peter loved so much. The one that meant Jonas was serious about his desires.
"Then I suggest we strike a bargain," he said, licking his top lip just ever-so-slightly with the barest hint of a tongue flicker. Peter only caught the movement because he was watching Jonas' smooth, slick lips so keenly. "I'll finish my first year of college. This time next year when I come back, if you've made progress then I'll stay. If not, it'll be the last time I return and you're coming with me."
Peter nodded. "Deal."
Re: that day behind his family's barn - OH THE TRAGEDIE!!
Date: 2011-10-01 01:02 am (UTC)Peter rembered that day, the day Jonas had left, the way the sun had glinted in his glinty blue-greeny-bluish eyes, making them crinkle at the edges. Jonas had kissed him -- hard, swiftly and all to brief -- and then he was gone.
The next year, to the minute, Peter found himself waiting at the back of the barn, his bags packed, his Torah wrapped lovingly in embroidered cloth and tucked into his rucksack.
And he had waited for hours, until the sun had faded over the horizon and the wind had picked up, and the rain poured down like it was a cheesey scene of disappointment from a bad movie -- not that Peter had ever *seen* a movie, but he was guessing.
Heart heavy, tears lost in the downpour of the rain, he had headed back to his cabin, and spent the next ten years trying to forget about Jonas.
But clearly, Jonas hadn't forgotten about him.
OH THE TRAGEDIE!!: a forbidden love, and go cart sex
Date: 2011-10-01 02:04 am (UTC)Evan stood his ground, his fingers entwined with the rabbi's.
"Alone, please?" Jonas said, a request, not a demand.
Evan's smile was cool and stiff as he nodded to the doctor. "Of course," he replied. His brushed his thumb over the back of Peter's hand as he headed for the door. "Be out in the hall if you need anything," he said.
Peter folded his arms across his chest as Evan exited. He puffed out his chest, a look of sheer indignance in the depths of his ocean-blue-cerulean-teal-melba eyes.
Jonas crossed to the bed, sitting beside him.
Peter's eyes flared with rage. And a bit of lust.
"You asshat!" he declared, pushing Jonas away.
"I owe you an explanation," Jonas said quietly.
"Goddamn right, you do!"
Jonas recoiled; he'd never liked such talk, such rabid vulgarities, and Peter knew it. "You don't have to use such language, Rabbi."
"Oh, don't pull the 'Rabbi' card on me, Doctor. What happened to coming back for me?"
"I--" Jonas stopped. "I saw your father in town one day. He mentioned how the enclave had taken to your insights. I thought you'd finally found your place."
Peter frowned. "My place was with you, Jonas. It always was. That day behind the barn was just a tug of war to see who'd give up their dreams first."
"Neither one of us," Jonas said, his blue-green-greenish-blueish-magenta-hinted-hazel hued eyes lost in sadness, mired in misery. And probably a bit of lust, too.
"My father lied to you," Peter said. "He was glad to see you gone, after the trouble we managed to create." He sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose. "You do realize you're the only person I'd allow to defile my go cart that way? Right?"
Peter relaxed a little as Jonas traced circles on Peter's thigh with his thumb. With any luck, he'd be circling something else with that hot delectable mouth as soon as Peter was walking again.
"Of course, I know," Jonas replied. "Now shut up and kiss me."
And Peter did just that.
Re:Bluey-greenish eyes and a very, very, very long kiss
Date: 2011-10-07 01:53 am (UTC)Jonas tasted just like Peter remembered.
Better than he remembered, actually. Before, behind the barn, there was always a bit of an aftertaste to Jonas' kisses, like grits or smokey bacon (which could, Peter realized suddenly, explain his strange passion for the completely unkosher food after all this time...) Now, Jonas' kiss was bolder, deeper, and his mouth tasted like an intoxicating combination of coffee and mint toffees. The kind you buy in the airport when you're coming back from a trip and realized you forgot to get a present for your sister.
Not that Peter actually knew if they sold those candies at airports. He had never flown in a plane, finding cars and buses fast enough after spending most of his life riding horse-drawn carriages. But he had always imagined what it would be like to go to an airport, and to buy a bag of those candies and eat them while watching a plane take off, as it raced down the runway and burst into flight --
Just like his cock was threatening to do into his hospital gown, right this second.
Jonas chose that second to kiss Peter harder, pulling him up on the bed and slipping one of his hands behind Peter's neck, the other on the small of his back.
A shooting pain shot through Peter, and he cried out, faling back against the bed and nearly pulling Jonas on top of him. "Ow!"
"What's wrong?" Jonas cried, his greenish-bluey-lavender-and-gold-flecked eyes growing wide with concern. "What happened?"
"You tell me, *Doctor*," Peter ground out through gritted teeth. The shooting pain was now stabbing and shooting, like it couldn't decide what weapon to use.
"Oh my God!" Jonas cried, and then winced at his own blasphemy. "I exacerbated your injury with my kiss!"
"Kiss?!" Evan shouted as he purposely strode back into to the room with purpose in every step. He forcefully grabbed the collar of Jonas' lab coat and spun him around. "What the hell were you doing, kissing him?"
"I was doing quite well, actually," Jonas said with a smirk.
Evan made a fist, clearly ready to drive it straight into one of the doctor's multi-coloured eyes.
"My legs!" Peter shrieked suddenly, cold, stark terror pounding through his heart. "I can't feel my legs!"
Fists of Fury and a Leaky Cock
Date: 2011-10-07 03:04 am (UTC)Evan's fist connected with the bridge of the doctor's nose. Of course, he knew he'd be lucky not to get court-martialed for striking a civilian, but at this point he didn't care. If Peter's recovery was hindered or halted in any way by Jonas, Evan would do a hell of a lot more than punch him.
He knew there was only one way to fix Peter before the damage was permanent. He leaned into Peter's space and pulled him into a deep kiss, his tongue exploring the depths of the rabbi's cunning mouth. From the corner of his eye he saw Peter's legs flail beneath the bedsheets, felt his hands groping Evan's biceps, then heard a soft whimper issue from Peter's throat. Evan smiled against him, backing off.
"Better?"
Peter gulped, palming the wet spot he'd left behind on his sheets. Evan's kiss had been *that* good.
"Yeah," he managed to squeak out.
Dr. Quinn stood, holding his bloody nose. He spotted Peter's toes moving beneath the covers.
"I'll see you at the race," he said to Peter, then turned to Evan: "May the best man win."
"It's clear the best man already has," Evan said with a smirk.
What Peter didn't reveal was his desire to watch them fight for his affections... before succumbing to Peter's fantasy of a threesome. Jonas and Evan in leather, taking his commands, pulling along the carriage instead of their usual horses...
He felt the wet spot grow as Evan smiled back at him.
no subject
Date: 2011-09-28 12:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-27 03:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-27 03:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-28 12:08 am (UTC)My mind is going to all sorts of bacon-infused places of evil....
no subject
Date: 2011-09-28 03:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-29 04:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-29 04:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-29 08:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-30 02:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-01 02:11 am (UTC)