seraphcelene (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
seraphcelene) wrote2006-06-30 07:31 am
seraphcelene) wrote2006-06-30 07:31 am
Entry tags:
Multi-fandom fic: I am a rebel, yo!
I blame this on the slowness of my yesterday and ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kormantic, who once encouraged me to write porn on the man's dime. I didn't actually manage the porn part.
Drabbles for your consumption:
Fandom: Firefly
Rating: PG-13 for themes
Spoilers: Serenity (the BDM)
A/N: Reaver POV; 100 words written for Challenge #10 at Firefly Friday: “from the point of view of a guest star or recurring character.” Highly experimental, it’s an odd stream of consciousness, haiku kind of a thing.
Summary: Before they are lost, the thoughts and after-thoughts of a Reaver.
Acta Sanctorum
hunt. kill. bleed. consume. birth, and death is quickly on its heels.
the air cycles and you are strong. everyone knows this, even carved the formula into the walls.
there is blood in your ears and on your teeth. the rip of flesh shudders up your spine. your daughter died five hours after her birth and you spit on the corpse, disgusted.
then contrition and you want to remember her because the pain has already begun to fade and no one ever recalls the past. into your coat you sew her tender baby skin and her hair adorns your boots.
Fandom: 4400
Rating: PG for imagery
A/N: spoiled for the opening episodes of season three; severely AU.
Summary: There is a connection between the future and the present, if only it could be remembered.
of blessed memory
Sean doesn't remember this. He never will.
He opened his eyes just as they split open his breastbone and tinkered with his insides. He screamed at the sight of the blood and, looking down at himself in horror, the steady beat of his heart. It should have been reassuring, that rhythmic thud, but it wasn't.
A girl, Isabelle, who kissed his cheek and stroked his hair, told him to be calm. “The future waits,” she said “We are going to be so happy.”
Sean believed her and his exposed, steadily beating heart eased. Closing his eyes, he dreamt of her.
Fandom: Firefly
Rating: G
A/N: Spoiled for Jaynestown, War Stories and Serenity: tBDM. Title from a poem by the same name written by Nicole Hefner. Written for the Rosemary Challenge (#107) at Firefly Friday. Summary courtesy of William Shakespeare’s Hamlet.
Summary: “There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance.”
to say nothing of the lavender
Zoe tucks rosemary into the guard strapped around her wrist, and at the end of the day, in bed, she inhales against the skin of her pulse and remembers Wash.
You been drinking, husband, she once smiled and steadied him on his feet. She still feels the angry bump of Niska’s scars beneath her hand and rubs away the sensation between thumb and forefinger. Zoe recalls Wash’s ferocity and the weight of his arm across her belly.
The press of his lips against her temple is a ghost’s kiss she holds dear, tethered by the pungent scent of the rosemary.
Fandom: Farscape
Rating: G
A/N: Set during Die Me Dichotomy. 100 words for the Posted Text Challenge at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
farscapefriday. The opening ‘text’ and the title are from yhlee's poem Dear Yourself.
Scratched
You do not have to carry your story alone, he thought and blinked tears away for the lie. John kissed the coolness of Aeryn's forehead and clipped a lock of her hair, a token faintly scented with chakan oil. Her death was his burden, and the cold and the ice and the memory of the calluses on her thumbs.
He swore to remember her, to kill for her, to seek revenge for her. He swore this by the razor’s edge of her cheekbones, pressed the promise into her skull with his lips so that the universe would resound with it.
Fandom: n/a: original drabble
Rating: G
A/N: Original drabble. I made the tarot combinations up. I know next to nothing about the tarot, the mistakes are mine and not to be taken seriously.
Dedication: for Sin
Summary: Beware the boy with love in his eyes.
The Warning
"Death and the Queen of Cups," the gypsy said. "Beware the boy with love in his eyes."
Joanne thought of Connor with his angel's smile and viper's kiss. So much for happily ever after, she mused. "What about my job?"
The gypsy placed The Lovers and The Devil on the table with a snap and frowned. "Beware the boy with love in his eyes."
"I heard. No boys. No love. What about my job?"
The gypsy looked up, light dancing on the sickle curve of her earrings. "There is only the warning. Beware the boy with love in his eyes."
kormantic, who once encouraged me to write porn on the man's dime. I didn't actually manage the porn part.Drabbles for your consumption:
Fandom: Firefly
Rating: PG-13 for themes
Spoilers: Serenity (the BDM)
A/N: Reaver POV; 100 words written for Challenge #10 at Firefly Friday: “from the point of view of a guest star or recurring character.” Highly experimental, it’s an odd stream of consciousness, haiku kind of a thing.
Summary: Before they are lost, the thoughts and after-thoughts of a Reaver.
hunt. kill. bleed. consume. birth, and death is quickly on its heels.
the air cycles and you are strong. everyone knows this, even carved the formula into the walls.
there is blood in your ears and on your teeth. the rip of flesh shudders up your spine. your daughter died five hours after her birth and you spit on the corpse, disgusted.
then contrition and you want to remember her because the pain has already begun to fade and no one ever recalls the past. into your coat you sew her tender baby skin and her hair adorns your boots.
Fandom: 4400
Rating: PG for imagery
A/N: spoiled for the opening episodes of season three; severely AU.
Summary: There is a connection between the future and the present, if only it could be remembered.
Sean doesn't remember this. He never will.
He opened his eyes just as they split open his breastbone and tinkered with his insides. He screamed at the sight of the blood and, looking down at himself in horror, the steady beat of his heart. It should have been reassuring, that rhythmic thud, but it wasn't.
A girl, Isabelle, who kissed his cheek and stroked his hair, told him to be calm. “The future waits,” she said “We are going to be so happy.”
Sean believed her and his exposed, steadily beating heart eased. Closing his eyes, he dreamt of her.
Fandom: Firefly
Rating: G
A/N: Spoiled for Jaynestown, War Stories and Serenity: tBDM. Title from a poem by the same name written by Nicole Hefner. Written for the Rosemary Challenge (#107) at Firefly Friday. Summary courtesy of William Shakespeare’s Hamlet.
Summary: “There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance.”
Zoe tucks rosemary into the guard strapped around her wrist, and at the end of the day, in bed, she inhales against the skin of her pulse and remembers Wash.
You been drinking, husband, she once smiled and steadied him on his feet. She still feels the angry bump of Niska’s scars beneath her hand and rubs away the sensation between thumb and forefinger. Zoe recalls Wash’s ferocity and the weight of his arm across her belly.
The press of his lips against her temple is a ghost’s kiss she holds dear, tethered by the pungent scent of the rosemary.
Fandom: Farscape
Rating: G
A/N: Set during Die Me Dichotomy. 100 words for the Posted Text Challenge at
farscapefriday. The opening ‘text’ and the title are from yhlee's poem Dear Yourself.You do not have to carry your story alone, he thought and blinked tears away for the lie. John kissed the coolness of Aeryn's forehead and clipped a lock of her hair, a token faintly scented with chakan oil. Her death was his burden, and the cold and the ice and the memory of the calluses on her thumbs.
He swore to remember her, to kill for her, to seek revenge for her. He swore this by the razor’s edge of her cheekbones, pressed the promise into her skull with his lips so that the universe would resound with it.
Fandom: n/a: original drabble
Rating: G
A/N: Original drabble. I made the tarot combinations up. I know next to nothing about the tarot, the mistakes are mine and not to be taken seriously.
Dedication: for Sin
Summary: Beware the boy with love in his eyes.
"Death and the Queen of Cups," the gypsy said. "Beware the boy with love in his eyes."
Joanne thought of Connor with his angel's smile and viper's kiss. So much for happily ever after, she mused. "What about my job?"
The gypsy placed The Lovers and The Devil on the table with a snap and frowned. "Beware the boy with love in his eyes."
"I heard. No boys. No love. What about my job?"
The gypsy looked up, light dancing on the sickle curve of her earrings. "There is only the warning. Beware the boy with love in his eyes."