kittydesade: (Default)
Title: Informed Consent
Fandom: Hellblazer
Characters: John Constantine, Zatanna
Rating: PG-13 for John's potty mouth
Word Count: 814
Summary: John Constantine has a crisis of conscience, in his own inimitable way. Set immediately after the events of The Books of Magic #1 to #4



John Constantine was not a happy man.

Not that John Constantine was often what one could call a happy man. In fact, it could be said that he reveled in being miserable. Or at least in being somewhat cranky. Usual quirks aside, though, today was particularly bad.

As nasty a person as he could be, and he would've been the first to admit that he was a right bastard, there were certain things he didn't like doing. Taxes were one thing. Dishes were another. And getting young children involved in a world that could quite possibly kill them before they reached adulthood was definitely on the list.

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kittydesade: (Default)
Title: Promise and Price
Fandom: Equilibrium
Characters: John Preston
Word Count: 1,000
Rating: PG-13
Summary: John Preston realizes just what happens when you start a revolution.

On the third hour John Preston had gone to his children's school and taken them out of it, walking them home between the gunfire and the screaming. His daughter started at the first and second bomb that went off and huddled against him for protection. His son never flinched, and Preston wondered if the boy had anticipated better than he had.

They ate a quiet dinner with barely three words exchanged between the three of them, nothing more strenuous than pass the salt. It was like old days, except no one chided his daughter for her fear and he fidgeted with his fork somewhat. Little steps. There was some getting used to things for all of them, no matter how long they had been secretly forgoing their dose.

Preston went to sleep with the echoes of the bombs still in his ears and wondering if the gunfire was distant because it had moved on down the street or because it was hours old and he was only remembering it.

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kittydesade: (Default)
Title: All Grown Up
Fandom: Narnia
Characters: Susan
Word Count: 559
Rating: PG
Summary: It was so easy to grow up, and leave Narnia behind.

It was so easy, at first. She and Peter were the responsible ones, they had to take care of the younger two. Peter when he was there, she when he was not. There were all these decisions to be made, most of which had nothing whatsoever to do with a magical realm in a wardrobe full of talking animals and mythical creatures. When she did think of it, most often it was right after keeping Lucy from saying something drastic like fauns aren't really like that or that doesn't look like a unicorn at all.

Time passed. It had a habit of doing that. They grew up slowly in the mortal world, grew older. Susan learned of the mystery of boys that were not her brothers, started to discover the effects of her smiles. The world of Narnia seemed more and more distant. And as they had been the only humans there, and rulers to boot, there had been neither time nor opportunity for romance. Her second youth was a boon and a blessing.

Lucy still talked about it, of course. Edmund indulged her because he felt guilty, Peter because he had always doted on his youngest sister. It wasn't meant to be exclusionary. Didn't start out that way.

But time passed, and days and dates passed. Peter never seemed to discover girls in the same way that she had discovered boys. Oh, there were little love notes and other girls in her class were always asking her what was going on in that boy's head, but nothing ever came of it. He and Edmund and Lucy were all too fond of each other, too likely to stay inside and play some sort of card game or Let's Pretend, as she called it now. It wasn't exactly natural, but it wasn't exactly unnatural either.

She learned to laugh it off as the memories faded into distant dreams. By the time Peter was done with school and on to college Lucy had stopped talking to her about much of anything of import or interest at all. There was no use in it. They didn't understand each other, the rift springing up when they weren't looking and neither of them knew how to bridge that gap.

Edmund looked at her as a bossy older sister, a babysitter to be alternately ignored or pouted at by turns. There had been a time, she remembered, when he had behaved. When he had been good and generous, or at the very least all right. What had happened to that boy? But it was an absent-minded thought and it never occurred to her that something had happened instead to her.

Peter and Susan had long talks about family finances, Edmund and Lucy's schoolwork, and how she was getting along with Lawrence Fillmore. If there was anything missing between them, he never showed it.

When news of the train accident reached her she cried more for being alone than for her lost siblings, whom she hadn't really known since they were children. It had been so easy to let them slip away, so easy that she no longer remembered exactly how it happened. Only that by the time Lucy was a grown woman she was also a stranger, and Susan was left to stand outside the door of the home her family had grown up inside.
kittydesade: (Default)
Title: We're So Screwed
Fandom: Star Wars (Books)
Characters: Wes, Hobbie, Kell
Word Count: 1,000
Rating: PG (unless you really want to imagine what Wes is doing with all that stuff)
Summary: Wes and Hobbie are in trouble. Again. It's all Wes's fault. Again.
A/N: This is a very rough draft, but if I don't get off my ass and post it I'm never going to revise it. Seriously.

"Why are we here again?"

"So we can get rid of this mess without Wedge seeing. Shh."

"Oh." Pause. "Shouldn't we have given this job to Wraith Squadron?"

"Shush!"

Wraith Squadron would have laughed at them anyway. They might have been expert pilots and clever as two cats in space, but they weren't as stealthy as they should have been on the ground. Of course, that could have been Wes trying not to laugh and Hobbie trying not to kill him.

The remnants of the bad joke were squirreled away into one of the lockers: half a ryshcate, a small sack of Ewok fur, machine lubricant, ball bearings, and the remnants of yet another Glass Prowler. Poor thing. It had gotten crushed in all the excitement.

"I still can't believe you thought that would work."

"It would have worked perfectly! It's not my fault Piggy decided he wanted to use the simulators at …" Wes made a face while he tried to remember.

"Oh-dark-hundred?"

"Yeah, that."

"I still don't think it would have worked."

"Oh, shut up. You're just cranky because…"

Footsteps in the corridor. They fell silent again, Wes leaning against the lockers and assuming an expression of studied nonchalance that only worked because he had the same expression whether he had just destroyed the refresher or put on Kettch for a strafing run. Hobbie stretched out on the bench and pretended to be asleep.

"What are you up to?"

Wes's eyes widened. "What what am I up to?"

"Wes, I know you. Everyone knows you. That expression means you're up to something."

"Kell, I swear to you, I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

Kell snorted. "Briefing's in ten. Wedge'll kill you if you're late." And he disappeared around the corner.

Wes jumped off of the lockers so fast and loud that Hobbie fell off the bench. "That's it!"

"What's it?" He sounded cross at having his nap interrupted. Or maybe only almost falling onto his face on the floor.

"That's it! If Wedge kills us for missing the briefing, he doesn't have to…"

Hobbie just stared at him. "The Force is not strong with your logic."

"Shut up."

Hobbie shut up. Wes fidgeted, bouncing a little on the balls of his toes and looking back and forth through the corridor as though expecting their fearless leader to come sneaking up on him at any moment.

"Wedge is going to kill you."

"He always wants to kill me."

"Piggy's going to kill you."

"Nah." Wes bounced again. "Not practical. He'll just come up with some convoluted and mathematical way to get revenge."

"Or he'll get you naked again."

"Hey." He pointed a finger at his friend. "It was Wedge who got me naked. At least if I've offended Piggy I'm safe from that."

Hobbie sat up, straddling the bench. "Instead he'll come up with convoluted and mathematical way to get revenge that's so foreign to your way of thinking that you won't be able to predict it."

Wes beamed. "Exactly."

"And you won't be able to predict it."

"Oh." His face fell again.

Hobbie snorted and lay back. "Two minutes. I still say we should have made Wraith Squadron clean it up. Blamed it on, um."

"Face?"

"Sure. He's got the Glass Prowlers, anyway."

"Yeah, but all Wedge would have had to do to know it was him was look into his room and see that they're still there in their cages. And then he would have gone around looking for anyone else crazy enough to get their hands on a Glass Prowler, an Ewok, machine lubricant, ball bearings, Cubber's toolkit…"

"And the ryshcate."

"Yeah."

Wes looked down the corridor towards the briefing. The Wraiths and the Rogues had been reunited for a mission, even with the Wraiths still ground-bound. The Rogues, the Deltas, and half a dozen other squadrons of fighters and elite units. It was a big mission. Maybe one of the biggest, Wedge had said. Of course, Wes was of the opinion that surviving both Death Star runs and taking down Zsinj was about as big as it could get, but Wedge just rolled his eyes when he told him so.

The more serious the mission, the more edgy Wes got. And the more edgy Wes got, the more everyone around them suffered, or so Hobbie was fond of saying.

What he meant by that, Wes explained, was that when things got tough he realized there was a greater than ever need to keep morale up. Which he could of course accomplish. A few jokes, a little levity here and there.

Hobbie tried to point out that reprogramming the simulators to paint a big target sign on whatever fighter Wedge was flying wasn't a little levity. Wes pointed out that it had made the newer Rogues laugh.

"We have to come up with something to keep Wedge's mind off of whatever Piggy might be reporting to him."

"We have to get rid of all that stuff and go to the briefing. You remember, the briefing that starts in…" Hobbie shook his head. "That started two or three minutes ago."

Wes waved a hand, started pacing again. "It'll take him a while to settle everyone down. Besides, I already know what it's about."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I snuck a look at his notes while I was in his office getting that Ewok." Stuffed Ewok, really. With real fur, confiscated from an Imperial artifact collector. Wedge had locked it away in disgust, but Wes had found all manner of fun uses for it. "Poor little guy."

"Poor us, if we don't get into that briefing room in…." Hobbie stopped in mid-sentence to slump back against the bench and groan. Wes had that look in his eye again. Last time it had been machine lubricant and ball bearings. He didn't want to know what it meant this time.

"Just stay here. I got an idea."

"Wes…" Too late. Far too late. "Great. We're so screwed."
kittydesade: (Default)
Title: A Man Who Opened A Door
Fandom: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead
Characters: Title
Word Count: 500
Rating: G
Summary: Entering and leaving a room. What else? :)

"Oh."

"Oh?"

The door opened.

"This isn't where we left off."

Footsteps through the door, one pair clacking and sure, one pair somewhat less so. Two pairs of eyes look around the room as though they haven't been there before, although of course they have.

"Are you sure?"

"Was there anywhere else?"

It's a room of mirrors, or so it seems, although the closer they get to the walls the more they realize that these aren't mirrors, they're walls of glass. Soft-paned glass, cold to the touch. They can see the sky outside, which unnerves them.

"Is this heaven?"

"Are you asking me to believe that heaven is a room made of glass?"

"Well…"

It didn't make sense, to be true, but they were dead.

"This would have to be one place or the other."

"Presuming one or the other exists."

Fidgeting. The door was still where they had left it, but the sky was not where they had left it, or perhaps it was just the clouds moving.

"If this is heaven, shouldn't there be wind?"

"What?"

"The clouds." Point. "They're moving."

"So?"

One stared at the other.

"Never mind."

They had spent most of their life, or what they could remember it, wrapped in confusion and locked in an enigma to which every clue left as soon as it had entered their thinking. Why should the afterlife be any different? If this even was the afterlife, and they weren't convinced that it was, each in their own way, which differed not a whit from the other except in the level of irritation.

Hand by hand along the wall until they reached a second door, the knob of which their hands touched at the same time. There was an awkward moment in which one of them might have said something intelligent and insightful, but they looked at each other instead and chose to view it as awkward, rather than as a moment.

"I wouldn't touch that if I were you."

"Why?"

"Not after what happened last time."

"What happened last time?"

"Don't you remember?"

"Opening a door?"

Pause. "Which door?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't you remember?!"

"No!"

Longer pause.

"I'm going to open it."

"No you're not." Tired.

"Are you sure?"

"Of what, exactly?"

Longest pause yet, inasmuch as they weren't doing anything for which they should be pausing. There was a memory of someone playing a flute somewhere that had some sort of significance neither of them wanted to admit they couldn't remember.

They also couldn't remember why they were supposed to be afraid of what lay beyond that door.

"I'm going to open it."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"Aren't you happy right here?"

"Are you?"

"I…" Pause, mouth open. "I don't know."

"It can't very well be worse."

"It doesn't have to be better."

"I'm going to open it."

One hand that did not tremble turned the doorknob. One of them took a step through. And then was falling, out of sight.

"Oh dear."

"What?"

Silence.
kittydesade: (Default)
Title: My Name Is Ash
Fandom: Evil Dead/Army of Darkness
Characters: Ash
Word Count: 319
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The bastard child of Evil Dead and My Name Is Earl. Yeah, I don't know what's wrong with me either.




I thought it was over

I was wrong.

They came for me after I landed back in my own time, safe and sound. Well, sound as I could be with only one hand. That was an old injury, can't blame the primitives for that one. And we'd done pretty good with my robotic hand.

I was back in the land of microwave pizzas, five dollar movies whenever I wanted them, and where in most cases the monsters only stayed on the TV screen. I didn't realize how much I'd missed it until I heard those doors woosh open for the first time. I could have fallen to my knees and kissed the linoleum.

Of course it wasn't until after I'd been there a couple of weeks, once they'd gotten me lulled into a false sense of security, that they started attacking.

One or two here and there at first. And then they really started coming. A zombie a day, pretty soon they had their own call code over the loudspeakers. Funny thing was, people kept shopping there like nothing was wrong. I guess they figured the worse that would happen was they got zombie goo all over their shopping.

Most of the time I got them before they got anyone else. We started keeping a shotgun under every counter. Pretty good against robbers, too. The last guy we had who tried to hold up the story was unlucky enough to be around for that day's zombie attack. Poor bastard didn't stop running until he'd reached the state line.

I don't know why the zombies keep coming to the store. Maybe it was built on some ancient burial ground, and their gods are pissed. Maybe they're coming across some vortex of time and space because I stole their stupid book.

Maybe they just want a good deal on a frying pan. Who knows.

My name is Ash. I kill zombies.
kittydesade: (Default)
Title: Twilight
Fandom: Babylon 5
Characters: Shh. It'll give the ending away.
Word Count: 1,000
Rating: PG
Summary: A well-deserved ending.


It had been the one point on which he would not budge, when they had selected the apartment. It must have a balcony. A view over the morning horizon. Julianna complained that it made finding something within their price range very hard. He patted her on the cheek and praised her ingenuity, knowing it would only make her go out and find something exactly to his specifications.

His hands were steady on the balcony when he heard the news about the war, shrieked from within by three enthusiastic female voices, and her slippered feet danced onto the balcony to tell him what he had already known. That Sheridan had prevailed. That Delenn had done her work well. The human race had made its choice, had spoken through the form of its representative, guided by…

Well. There was no need to advertise that little fact.

And he had, after all, played only a very small role in the whole thing. Only a touch. One day's work in exchange for a lifetime, first of slowly growing awareness and then of endless, exhaustive repentance. It hardly seemed fair on the face of it.

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kittydesade: (Default)
Title: That's All I've Got To Say
Fandom: The Last Unicorn
Characters: Lir
Word Count: 1,000
Rating: PG
Summary: Lir closes up the castle at the end of the story.

He started at the top of his stairs and worked his way down, working from an old ring that had seen better days and was in fact about to rust through in places. It wasn't as though there was anything left to steal or to see. But it was the principle of the thing, and he had learned from his father

(adopted father)

as much as from Molly to do a thing right if he was going to do it.

Now, the thing to do was to leave. And lock up behind him.

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kittydesade: (big damn list)
Title: Rum, Sodomy, and the Lash
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Characters: Jack Sparrow, James Norrington
Word Count: 2,092
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Norrington's in disgrace again and in Jack's cabin. Jack's out of the Kraken's belly but still in hell as far as he's concerned. Jack/Norrington, non-con, dark themes. You have been warned.

The truth of it was he was in Jack's cabin because the crew disliked him so intensely that they wouldn't tolerate him among their own bunk. And Jack was in Jack's cabin because he was so disturbed by what had happened that he wasn't even sure he was able to remember it let alone speak of it or watch his crew tiptoeing around him because of it. And Elizabeth was not in Jack's cabin because she was in Will's, despite the fact that things between the two of them had been frosty as a nun's knickers since she had so neatly and cruelly kissed and trapped Jack against his own mast.

He would have preferred Elizabeth in his cabin and everyone else out of it. Along with her dress.

Jack rolled over and tried to pretend that his inability to sleep was due to Norrington's excessive and irritatingly loud snoring. He would have threatened to cut the man's nose of if he thought it would do any good, but the man was a most insubordinate prisoner at the best of times. The only thing he had done to Jack's benefit (and of course Jack was only concerned with things to his benefit) was to agree to erase his name from the pardon and write in Jack's. It might not stand up to as careful an eye as he knew Cutler Beckett to have but it would stand up to those who might try to apprehend him, and that was good enough.

The other reason Jack was unable to sleep, of course, was that this ship was not the Pearl. It wasn't his, for all that it was a good and worthy ship and would have made a fine vessel for Elizabeth the pirate or Will if he chose to turn merchant or anyone but Jack Sparrow, who required his beloved Black Pearl. The loss of the Pearl was laid on Norrington's pig-smelling and worn shoulders. If he hadn't run off with the thump-thump, Jack pouted, they wouldn’t be aboard some second-rate brigantine.

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kittydesade: (Default)
Title: Ever After
Fandom: Ladyhawke
Characters: Isabeau
Word Count: 415
Rating: PG

There are stories and books that tell her how this is supposed to turn out, but it's hard to remember that when you're the princess. Even harder when your fingers can no longer turn the pages and your eyes see in strange shades and at different perspectives and, oh yes, talons punch through even the toughest of paper.

He won't carry a book around. It's valuable pack space that he could use for food, waterskins, clothing for when each of them wakes up naked with the taste of blood in their mouth. Rat blood, squirrel. Rabbit. It's not so hard, most mornings. Even the dirt and rocks in places you really don't want dirt and rocks.

It's the waking up alone that hurts. Even after the first year, the thought that there will be an eternity of this. It hurts.

She thinks he may have gone a little bit mad with it, and that's why he's tugging them on this journey all the way around the country and back to the cathedral again. He leads, she has to follow, because it's dangerous for a woman alone at night even with a wolf companion and she looks like a witch, walking with such a beast. Also because he's always had such a forceful personally, she's carried along by it, managing him in such small ways as she could before they could no longer speak.

There's hope, there must be. She'll endure, because it's what she's always done and because it's what she knows best. And because there is love there, running deep and strong. Tugging her along. Even if they're not on the same schedule at all they can be together in the small ways. Even if she hasn't spoken to him in long enough that the doubts creep in, that she wonders, that it hurts in a new way all on its own. They're still there, in that small church with the poor, sodden monk, with the light shining on them both. As they always should have been.

It should have been happily ever after. There should be a happy ending somewhere, but when she finally gets hold of a book and quickly thumbs through to the back she's racing the sun. She can't remember the happily ever after, and she needs to know that there is one. The sun rises, talons punch through paper and leather. The bird doesn't know what she was doing with a book, or even what a happy ending is.
kittydesade: (big damn list)
Title: Xanadu
Fandom: X-Men
Characters: Sabretooth, Mystique
Word Count: 516
Rating: PG-13
Summary: If things had been different; Sabretooth Limited Series #1 (or is it #2)

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kittydesade: by <user name="nope"> (novel idea (nopejr))
Title: Unashamed Felinity
Fandom: Young Wizards / Book of Night With Moon
Characters: Rhiow
Word Count: 500
Rating: PG
Summary: The morning routine of a soldier against entropy, Eldest, Fairest, and Fallen, greetings and defiance. Cut for spoilers.

Read more... )
kittydesade: (big damn list)
Title: Father Knows Best
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Characters: Gideon, Reid, and the gang
Word Count: 629
Rating: PG
Summary: Gideon's had kids on his team before, but not like this. Follows this



Gideon watches the new kid, and kid is the right word for it because for all his genius he’s got the awkward uncertainty of his age, waiting to see if he’s right. Instinct tells him that despite the problems of alcoholism and potential sociopathy Dr. Reid could be a valuable member of the team. Caution and experience tell him to keep an eye out anyway.

He never tells Reid he’s worried about his drinking, his isolation, his inability to connect with others. Doesn’t leave pamphlets on his desk or drop well-meaning conversational anvils or tell stories about this cousin or that uncle. He orders soft drinks or fizzy water when they go out for dinner as a team, when they’re in the field, even after the case is over and they’re decompressing. Hotchner knows, and Morgan takes his cue from the boss. He keeps Reid distracted with puzzles. Locked room mysteries, informational quirks, strange fruit. He notices Reid has trouble integrating his emotions with his intellect, and challenges him to a game of chess. Reid looks puzzled but not angry when he loses, confused that the natural order of things has been upset.

Days pass. Weeks. Their assignments take them out of town regularly but not too frequently. He keeps an eye on Reid coming into work, keeps an eye on his receipts coming home. Once or twice he makes his way out to Bethesda for sushi and an evening spent trolling the local bookstore. He notices when Reid doesn’t notice the checkout girl hitting on him.

He intercepts Morgan when the other agent takes an interest in the kid, suggests a bar might not be the most comfortable environment. A coffee shop might be more his style, and Morgan agrees. Gideon watches from across the room as Reid tenses up the first time Morgan asks if he wants to grab coffee for an hour, since it’s going to be a long night. Hotchner’s too professional to be a jock.

It’s not the next day but two days later as they’re flying back to Quantico that Reid offers to play some straight-up poker with Morgan. Reminding him that Reid was raised in Vegas, Gideon observes with interest. The kid flinches when he beats Morgan into the ground, but the older agent laughs and insists on a rematch to win some of his pride back, if not his money. He doesn’t, but Reid tries to gain points by setting up an impromptu blackjack table in the plane, talking like a carnie barker to cover his nerves. Elle and Hotchner join in, making him the center of positive non-work-related attention for the first time since he joined the team.

When Reid makes a year without a drink, when Hotchner and Morgan have backed up ‘Dr. Reid,’ when he can hold a conversation with Elle and not stutter his way into silence, Gideon leaves a poker chip on his desk. Reid looks over at him with that raised-eyebrow shy-smile stare.

“Is it my birthday or something?”

Gideon chuckles and nods over his shoulder. “Or something, Special Agent Reid,” he says. Adds, before Reid can turn around. “I’m proud of you.”

He understands. They both understand, always have. Morgan and Hotchner have come up behind him by the time the rest of it sinks in. “I’m not a probie anymore?”

“And you know what that means, right?” Morgan says, right behind him, and Reid jumps. Eyes him with exaggerated suspicion, but his shoulders are down and his hands are unclenched. Gideon smiles, turning away.

“Uh. No?”

He’s still walking when Reid starts babbling protests, laughing, the sound of him backpedaling over someone’s opened file drawer. Morgan says something about hazing, and he rolls his eyes. Smiles.

Puts up another picture in his office.
kittydesade: by <user name="nope"> (novel idea (nopejr))
Title: The Choice
Fandom: Kushiel's Chosen
Characters: Phedré
Word Count: 610
Rating: PG
Summary: Some choices are made before we even manifest them. Some choices are never made, no matter how hard we try.

Phedré has had so many choices in her life, sometimes it amazes her when she tallies them all up. At the time, of course, it did not seem that she had any choices at all. The alternatives were no better than damnation, the choice she made the best of a bunch of bad options. Rarely, until now, has she had good choices.

She has her whole life ahead of her. How many people could say that with such certainty?

Last night she dreamt with uncommon clarity that she had been back on Night’s Doorstep, back in the tavern that had been her home for so many years. Empty, as she had never seen it in her lifetime. It had the strange surreal quality that she had ascribed at the time to divine question, although of course she now knew it to be the languor of dreaming.

She remembered both of them at the front and back. Hyacinthe at her back, giving the room a kind of warmth and the set of her shoulders a relaxed security, knowing she was well taken care of. Joscelin in front of her, all hope and promise and quiet surety.

It wasn’t surprising. She had made choices of the two of them in the last three months, answered a great many questions. Joscelin had been so afraid, and she had feared, herself, how she would decide. How could she choose, after all, between the old friend of her childhood, the person who perhaps knew her best of all, and the love who had stood by her through so much and endured so much of what she had thrown at him.

Hyacinthe. They were two of a kind, in so many ways. The Queen of Courtesans and the Prince of Travellers. They had imagined such futures together.

She could not now imagine a future without Joscelin, without Imriel. Without their rag-tag family.

She remembered Melisande coming down the stairs, throwing all of that into chaos.

Melisande. The love of her life, in so many ways. It still hurt to think of her; part of her knew that it would always hurt. There was the uncertainty of her potential escape, the promise unmade and hanging in the air. She would no longer threaten the safety of Ysandre and the throne, but Phedré’s personal safety and the safety of her heart and sanity were in question. They would always be in question. Melisande could drive her mad with a word or a look.

The dream had ended before she’d taken a step, and as Phedré sat up in bed and moved towards the window, the coolness of the sheets telling her that Joscelin arose long before, she wondered what it meant. Returning to Montréve with Joscelin and Imriel had been easy. But was that only because Melisande was in her prison and Hyacinthe was bound for Alba?

If they had been free, what would she have done? Elua’s children were given a precept, but no instructions on how to follow.

Love as thou wilt.

She could put off the question for a long time, perhaps for her lifetime, but not forever. At the close of her life Elua, dark Kushiel might ask, and how would she answer?

Joscelin’s paler skin glinted in the sun as his hands moved in the martial forms.

Some choices were not so easy. Her breath caught in her throat, remembering the dream, Melisande and Joscelin and Hyacinthe all looking to her as though she had the answers they most sought. They looked at her so, in life.

Love as thou wilt.

Phedré turned, moved downstairs, passing through the courtyard arch into the sunlight.
kittydesade: (big damn list)
Title: The Real World
Fandom: Labyrinth
Characters: Sarah and Jareth
Word Count: 550
Rating: PG
Summary: College isn't exactly the real world, but it's still too Real for Sarah.



Years later the magic age wasn’t fifteen but twenty one, and she had celebrated her birthday with a bottle of wine and a gazebo lost to the depths of the college campus. She had only gone to college, she felt, because it was expected of her. All that knowledge gained and here she was still doing what was expected.

Sarah took another drink from the bottle and felt decadent. She swigged it, because she could and because it made her feel like some sort of bohemian artiste in a movie suffering in the throes of angst for some as-yet undiscovered purpose. Fantasy was becoming infinitely better than her dull reality, and while she knew that wasn’t the least bit uncommon she wanted to be special. She had been special, once. Maybe that was what differentiated her from all the other spoiled young men and women out there who wanted to be the only one in the world who could do, or say, or be one thing.

'You had the chance...' )
kittydesade: (big damn list)
Title: John Saves The World
Fandom: Law & Order: SVU
Characters: Det. John Munch
Word Count: 550
Rating: PG
Summary: John's in the bar after the case, but the case isn't over yet.

The detective walked into the bar. It was the start of a bad joke, and that was about how he felt these days. Like a bad joke.

The woman had gotten her kid back. After that stunt on the roof he hadn’t thought any family court in the world would give her custody of a minor child. He’d talked her off that roof, he’d seen the look in her eyes when she’d picked up her kid from their squad room, and even if he knew they were doing the right thing that didn’t mean DCS would be able to see it. Suicides who were living on the margins of society at best didn’t get children.

“Ah, I’m getting cynical.” He slung himself onto the stool and leaned against the bar. “Whiskey. Straight up.”

Read more... )
kittydesade: (big damn list)
Title: Lost and Found
Fandom: The Pretender
Characters: Jarod and Miss Parker
Word Count: 1000
Rating: PG
Summary: Lost in more ways than one, Miss Parker and Jarod have to find their way together, a fact which annoys her greatly.

“Aren’t you supposed to know your way around every complex built using Federal guidelines?”

She couldn’t see his face but she heard him smiling that aggravating, easy grin of his. “This was built in the last two years. They didn’t have the plans when I was in the Centre.”

'Shut up, Jarod' )
kittydesade: (big damn list)
Title: Ten Little Monkeys
Fandom: From Hell
Characters: Many
Word Count: 2500
Rating: R
Summary: Children have the strangest nursery rhymes. That's not really a summary, is it? One by one, the characters monkeys fall.

"Ten little monkeys jumping on the bed
One fell off and bumped his head
Momma called the doctor and the doctor said:
No more monkeys jumping on the bed!"
-- Trad.



Ten Little Monkeys )
kittydesade: (cute kitty! (nopejr))
Title: The Flea
Fandom: Teen Titans
Characters: Beast Boy, Starfire, Robin
Word Count: 150
Rating: PG
Summary: It's that time of year again, no matter how much Beast Boy wishes it weren't.

“You can’t make me!”

“Yes, I can!”

A crowd had started to gather.

“I won’t. There’s no way you can get me to.”

“You are being unreasonable!”

“I’m being plenty reasonable! It’s … it’s cruel and unusual!”

Everyone winced as talons scraped down metal walls.

“It is the time of the year! You knew it was happening!”

“You were supposed to forget!”

“With you running around the Tower like that?” Robin laughed from the doorway.

“A little help would be nice!”

The sides of the door started to buckle. People got out of the way.

“Beast Boy!”

“I won’t I won’t I wo--”

Robin ducked.

Water sprayed over the floor.

Beast Boy gave his teammate a sheepish look. “Well. Um. Look at it this way. At least you won’t have fleas, either?”

The scorch mark followed his line of flight down the corridor and around the corner.

Come back here…!”

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