Albino! no punch back

To remember, Greek mythology

Fri, 01 Jan 2010 23:17:45 GMT

To remember
Greek Mythology
written for Yuletide as a last minute pinch hit (I am so so sorry, I butchered your prompt. There's a reason I don't do Yuletide)

She wishes she had the power to reach out across the waters that protect her husband from her wrath and strangle him, to leave him bloody on the floor with the same injuries he gave their child

Clytemnstra's story

Clytemnestra has never been known for her beauty, nor her grace, nor her wifely ability. Her name means schemer, and she is true to it.

Had she been a man she would have counselled kings. As a woman she is little more than a trophy. Married first to Tantalus, she is taken as a wife, although never proposed to, never asked for her hand by her new husband, and her old husbands slayer; Agamemnon.

Tantalus had been little better than a jailer, but he was at least kind to her, heeded her council in some things, although he never did realize just how much control she had over his affairs, near the end. Agamemnon is not kind, nor gentle. He does not take the advice of women. He has no patience for her.

This new cage is much less comfortable. But she bides her time.

She learns her peoples secrets, the rumours of the marketplace. Her knowledge of the surrounding area is considerable, but something is still lacking.

Eventually there are children and for that she is grateful. She has new purpose, new company, and new people to tell her stories to.

She praises the Gods for her blessings.

Her children are everything; Elektra, Orestes, and little Iphigeneia, the most delicate and beautiful of the three. Perhaps that should have been a warning to her.

Iphigeneia is also the sweetest, crying if an animal must be slaughtered for a meal, if a snake must be killed for coming too close to their home. Her heart bleeds for the innocent and villainous alike. Her soul is true, and her heart pure.

Orestes is a little soldier in waiting. He runs the palace grounds with a little wooden sword, challenges the servants and visitors to duels (although Agamemnon puts a stop to him challenging anyone they do not own).

Elektra is darkness and light. Pale skin and raven hair that would win her a suitor is she were not already married to the idea of the Gods, eager to serve in a temple.

When her husband sends word that he has found a suitor worthy of their daughter, Clytemnestra knows he means Iphigenia. Even a king would not dare defy a God by forcing a priestess in training into marriage. Clytemnestra sends her, but with great apprehension. Iphigeneia cries, she is too young. Clytemnestra was also married off at a young age, property instead of partner. But there is little she can do to fight it. Servants take her out the door in tears.

A while later, while weaving amongst her women, she feels a shiver, as though a scream had passed through her. But no one else seems bothered and Clytemnestra puts it out of her mind. It is unbecoming of the Lady of the House to be bothered by such fancies. Many of her women are losing men to this war with Troy, and Clytemnestra must appear strong and calm.

Later, after the ships sails are lost over the horizon a slave comes to her. She does not hear the words, but still knows what has been said. She rushes to the waters edge. Her baby, her child, her little girl has been left, desecrated, vivisected on the alter. Her lifeless eyes stare up at a Godless sky.

Her child has been murdered by her husband.

The fury burns away the grief. It's a wild fire in the tall grass when there is no hope of rain. It's a thunderous storm destroying crops and leaving the fruit of her heart to rot on the floor of her soul. It consumes and destroys everything but the need to kill that which killed her child.

She has years to plan her vengeance. The war takes a very long time to finish. She doesn't even care about the outcome, or the fate of her sister who sits at the middle of it. All that matters is avenging her child.

Every night she dreams about her little girl, the way she must have fought against the men twice her size, screamed and shrieked as her own father raised the blade. She doubts Agamemnon had so much as a tear in his eye when he did it.

She takes a lover, anything to distract her from the sounds of her child. She can almost hear her even when she is awake. Perhaps the Furies have chosen to punish her, for allowing the murder of a blood kin to go unanswered for. She wishes she had the power to reach out across the waters that protect her husband from her wrath and strangle him, to leave him bloody on the floor with the same injuries he gave their child.

Clytemnestra leaves the care of her other children more and more to the servants. She has not told them what became of their little sister and doubts she could. Even if she does not tell them, she can not stand the look of love and joy on their faces when her baby is dead.

She plans it out, how she'll draw him into the hall, or perhaps their marriage bed. The sounds he'll make, the way the blood will spurt.

When the time comes, all her schemes, and plans come to nothing. It's as simple as picking up an axe. The face of the young woman with him mocks her. Years of worry and anguish have done her looks no favours. That he could arrive after murdering her child with this final insult, this whore and their own children is an offence beyond all others.

New children to replace the one he destroyed.

A new wife to replace the wreck he left behind.

The axe is sweet as it whistles through the air and lands in his back. She wrenches it out and strikes again, and again.

The woman doesn't run, doesn't fight. If the stupid cow is too weak to fight then Clytemnestra will not spare her.

She swings the axe until her arms cramp and the handle is too slick to grasp.

For the first time in years Iphigeneia is no longer crying.

The Brown Coat Store, Firefly/Torchwood xover

Wed, 30 Dec 2009 18:20:21 GMT

The Brown Coat Store
Firefly/Torchwood xover
Crackfic

written for comment_fic

"That's a damn fine looking coat" Mal said as he looked in the mirror and stood, first with one leg forward, then the other (to make sure it fit, of course).

"It certainly is" The handsome stranger said as he looked over Mal's shoulder and into the mirror, taking in the fine view. "Do you come here often?" he asked.

"Only if some Hun dan* gets it into mind to rip a fine jacket, such as my last one."

"Sir" Zoe said, coming up behind him with an armful more coats for Mal to try on "if you go to an alliance bar on Unification Day and start a fight, don't wear your favourite jacket."

"Pfft, women" Mal said to his co-shopper "Never understand the purpose of a decent wardrobe. What's the point in ownin' finery if you ain't gonna wear it?"

"Couldn't agree more" the man said, as he tried on one of Mal's discarded coats. "Ooh, this one fits like a dream, or possibly I just have a prefect body for clothes. Seems a shame really, too clothe me, when I could grace the universe with my-"

"Sir! Zoe interuppted, "is this gonna take much longer, I have things to do on the ship that need doin' "

"Fine, leave a man to the dangers of shopping with out a second opinion!"

Zoe rolled her eyes, but in her subtle way, so Mal was willing to over look it, on account of her years of faithful service, and willingness to work cheap.

"I'm more than willing to give you a piece...of my mind, if you need it." The other fellow put out his hand to shake "The names Jack, Captain Jack Harkness"

Mal smiled and shook "I'm Mal. You seem like a man after my own heart Jack"

They head to the change room to try on other clothes, it wasn't often either captain made it all the way out to the butt end of the 'verse where the only decent coat store could be found. They were both going to get the most out of their visit.

Carol of the Hells Bells, Dresden Files

Tue, 22 Dec 2009 12:24:36 GMT

Carol of the Hells Bells
Dresden Files
written for Small Fandom Fest
prompt was Harry meets the real Santa Claus

title is from one of my favourite carols 'Carol of the Bells

T'was the night before Christmas belongs to Clement Clarke Moore ~~I'm just bastardizing it~~

Takes place at some point after Proven Guilty, but no real spoilers.

No kittens were harmed in the making of this fic.

T'was the night before Christmas
and all through the house
not a creature was stiring,
not even my dog Mouse

When outside my steel reinforced door
there arose such a pounding, (not unlike a clatter)
I sprang from my bed
to see what's the matter

But slipped when I stepped on Mister's tail
my spinning windmill arms did fail
I landed face first upon the ground
while the pounding upon my door still sound

I made my way to my door the front
and wrenched it open to yell at the nut
who'd make so much noise at a quarter past 3
when what did my startled wizard eyes see?

"Hells Bells"

My head barely came to his belt. It had a gleaming gold buckle and it was stretched over a massive, red coated belly.

My eyes travelled up, past shiny black buttons, a truly wild looking white beard, up to his jolly face. Minus the jolly. In fact Old Saint Nick was currently giving me the stink eye.

"Um, hello, Sir."

His electric blue eyes were impossible to avoid.

"Is this yours?" he rumbled.

I couldn't see what he meant for a minute because he was so big he took up my entire stairwell. He half turned and behind him on the driveway a red sack tossed and twisted on the ground next to the Blue Beetle. The bag was cinched tight and someone inside was rolling and fighting, with the occassional grunt, but it was clear they weren't getting out on their own. After a half minute of deciding if St Nick was more likely to get pissy for me walking past, or me not answering I skulked past him (barely) and undid the drawstring.

Molly's gagged and flushed head popped out of the hole, her hair flying wildly from the static she'd gotten in the sack.

"Mmmm mmm mmmmm!"

"What?"

"Mmm m-"

"Oh right!" I pulled the gag from her mouth. Hey, give me a break it was the middle of the fricking night and I had just been waken up by an angry Wild Fae, best known as Santa Claus. I'd known he was real, and kind of scary, but I'd never in a million years thought I'd have him glaring down on me like I owed him something.

Mostly because I, and the people I ran with, were all far too smart, and possibly too cowardly, to summon Father Christmas. Or so I'd thought until my apprentice stuck her head out of Santa's sack.

"Harry! you gotta help me, I didn't think he was real and -"

"ShhHHH!" I tried to shush her, but he'd heard.

"You dare question MY existence!" He thundered as he strode over, thick black boots the size of dustbin lids pounding a trail through the snow. "I who am worshipped by millions! Feared by the naughty! I who have travelled the known worlds and places you can not fathom, little mortal, and you dare not believe in Santa Claus!"

Molly made a sound somewhere between a meep and a groan as Kris Kringle yelled at her.

I got in between the 2 of them (because despite all the different kinds of pain in the butt Molly is, you just don't stand by while a young girl gets threatened by a man two, or a dozen times her size).

"Listen, uh, Mr. Claus, Sir" (you sir a guy when his one hand could literally crush your skull) "I'm sure she never intended to summon you, she's very young and probably didn't mean to do it, you know how kids are nowadays" I figured if anyone knew how kids could be, it'd be Santa.

I also found myself talking a little too fast. I was not one of those people who gets excited around celebrities but come on. I mean this was Santa. SANTA. I might not have had the Disney Family Christmas, but even orphans know about Santa.

On the other hand, Santa kind of looked like he was about to stuff Molly and me both with coal. Hot coal. I'm pretty sure we wouldn't enjoy it. Or, you know, survive.

"You think a wizard has power enough too summon me?! This one and her kinsman came through to my home in the Land of Perpetual Snow, by way of the Land of Fae."

"Molly!?" I snapped at her "You crossed into the Nevernever? What have I told-"

"She did more than breach the wall between worlds, Wizard,"Santa interrupted my tirade, which I thought was a little rude. "She and her kinsman startle my herd. When I came forth from my home to see what had caused their displeasure they..." here Santa's voice dropped away and he mumbled something about 'hose' and 'rippings'.

"I'm sorry what was that last part?" I asked him.

He glared at me. Finally he said, "The reindeer got in my house, and left" he stopped to clear his throat, "droppings."

Must not laugh, must not laugh. I chanted it in my head while the muscles in my face held a mutiny and highjacked the corner of my mouth.

I smirked.

A look from Santa and that quickly stopped.

"So, Molly..."I looked away from Santa and hoped he stopped glaring "What were you doing in the Nevernever?!"

"It was all Matthew's fault! He kept telling Harry that Santa didn't - well, what I said before." Molly jerked her head at St. Nick who was currently looming over both of us. "So I figured I'd just pop over to the Nevernever, show him something Christmasy and then he'd still believe. It was only going to take a second, and I had us both veiled....."

"Are you telling me you took your little brother to the Nevernever! Molly!"

"It was only for a second!"

"Is he still there? Did you leave him!"

"No! I wouldn't have left him alone - I got him back home before Santa dropped the sack on me"

"Are you sure he made it home?" I asked, ready to hop into action and save another one of Micheal's kids (he owed me a plaque at this point, possible some turkey).

"Excuse me" rumbled Santa Claus "Can we talk about my problems?, and on tonight of all nights!"

"Well, if she wrecked your house, I say let her clean it up."

"Harry!" Molly cried.

"She is bound to you, Wizard, in your service. Her punishment is yours as well."

"Molly" I said through gritted teeth, "you are so on my naughty list". I started to loosen the bag she was trapped in.

"I demand reparations, Wizard. You will return with me to my home, immediately."

That was so not how I wanted to spend my Christmas, scooping up reindeer poo. I didn't even clean my own house- That was it.

"Hold on a second there, Kringle. What if I had someone else in my service clean up for me?"

Santa sighed. He suddenly looked very tired.

"What have you in mind, Wizard?" he asked with resignation.

"Well, I could have one of my guard, you may have heard of them, the Za Lord's army, well, I'm sure they would be more than thrilled to clean up for me."

Santa raised a giant hand to rub at his eyes. "I want my house cleaned before dawn Wizard, I no longer care who does it. See that it is done and I will forget this ever happened"

I finally had Molly out of the sack, which I handed back to Santa.

"Can you believe we met Santa?" Molly said with a sparkle in her eyes. I grunted. For her sake there had better be a pizza place open this late on Christmas night, or we'd both be getting it.

I really do hate the holidays.

He gave me a glare,
and some baggies for cleaning
he gave me a look
and I got the meaning

And raising his finger
third from the left,
he flipped me the bird,
as he turned and left!

He sprang to his sleigh,
to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew
like a shot from a pistol.

But I heard him exclaim,
‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Dresden, If we meet again
I'll put an end to your life"

Merry Christmas to all, but don't sleep too tight! Santa's coming.....

Tasty, Original

Sun, 20 Dec 2009 12:36:54 GMT

Tasty
Original
50 word story

I told my room mate what happens to people who die at home, and leave pets behind; If no one finds the body and no one feeds them.

It's just what animals are like.

I didn't think it was too graphic.

But now we have to get rid of the cats.

Things overheard at a 7Eleven, Supernatural

Sat, 19 Dec 2009 13:59:13 GMT

Things overheard at a 7Eleven
Supernatural
prompt was Dean and Cas grocery shopping, outsider POV for comment_fic

"What are you doing?" the rougher looking of the 2 men asked as the trench coat wearing one picked up the last item dumped in the basket and began muttering over it (again).

"I am giving Thanks to the Lord for this bounty we are about too recieve"

"Dude, this is a 7Eleven. I seriously doubt God gives a damn about burritos."

"God is omnipotent, Dean, he very much cares about everything, even the Burritos."

"Yeah, well, if God's so concerned about snacks maybe he could summon up some Coke Zero, 'cause it looks like they're out"

"Don't blasphem, Dean. And there's some of your beverage right there" The trenchcoat wearing one said as he gestured to a display.

"Hey! how did I not see this!" He said as he loaded up on several bottles.

"The Lord works in mysterious ways" Trench coat said as the moved to the cash to pay.

After they had gone, the cashier turned to her co-worker and said "Why do we always get the freaks?"

"At least they were cute" said the other one and shrugged.

Fanfiction, SPN

Sat, 19 Dec 2009 13:55:55 GMT

Fanfiction
Supernatural
prompt was Chuck, fanfiction from comment_fic

"Oh God! OH GOD!" Chuck said, horrified, and put both his hands in his hair and tugged. "This is not what the Lord intended at all!"

Beside him, Becky smirked as she navigated their computer to yet another Dean/Sam fic website.

This was the most fun she'd had since she explained the synopsis of Breaking Dawn to him.

Silliness is contagious, Original

Sat, 19 Dec 2009 13:52:28 GMT

Silliness is Contagious
Original
ficlet
prompt was silliness is contagious on dailyprompt on DW

"oh crap"

Lillie turned to look at her co-worker, John was looking down at his arm. They were both in orange biohazard suits, and his suit had a tear. As he looked up Lille could already see the traces of clown makeup around the eyes. Within moments he would have a bright red nose. She'd seen too many good men and women go through this.

"Oh no, John." she whispered, horrified. She could feel her eyes start to well up. "You're already infected"

With a look of sad regret, and of determination he pulled his service revolver from his side and pointed it at his head. "Goodbye, Lillie, know that I loved you". He sniffed, but in a manly fashion.

But it was too late. The gun had already turned into a prop. When John pulled the trigger a white flag with the words BANG! appeared.

Lillie ran to hug him, but he stopped her "No! Lillie! you can't touch me" he said as he raised his hands and showed her the buzzer devices already attached to his palm. "It's too late for me, but you can still save yourself. Run, Lillie, run!"

Lillie turned and fled, past clowns, and men reciting Animal House and Monty Python movies. Past people talking with helium voices, and giggling scientists.

It was too late to save any of them.

The Indoor Snowman, Original

Fri, 18 Dec 2009 01:52:27 GMT

The Indoor Snowman
Original
dribble

The ground moves, and the whole house is lifted into the sky. The entire world shakes back and forth.

Snow flies up into the air, spins in a circle around the cottage, past my face, through the yard.

A beautiful slow motion blizzard.

I really hate it when people shake the globe.

V is for volunteer, Stargate , Vala Alphabet Soup.

Fri, 18 Dec 2009 01:44:45 GMT

V is for Volunteer
Stargate SG-1
for Vala Alphabet Soup

Qetesh sat upon the dais, proud and terrible. She does not look as the girls are led into the room and forced to line up before her. Instead she inspects the fruit offered on a golden tray by a beautiful slave. Her face twists in distaste at the food. She gestures and the slave bows, retreats in silence.

As fearful as Vala is, her mouth waters at the sight of all that food. She hasn't eaten all day. Still, the Goddess is distracted, the guards are few. Vala edges to the back of the group. She drifts, slowly, a fly on the wall, a slave unworthy of notice; she has had a life time of practice at being unseen, she moves toward the door.

She almost makes it.

A guard sees her. She runs, but he's bigger, faster. His staff weapon traps her to his body.

She fights, and it draws Qetesh's attention. She stalks down, slithers gracefully, thunders like a God coming down from heaven. Her hands, capped in the golden fingers of the hand device are cold on Vala's cheek as she twists her head around, looks deep into her eyes. It's paralyzing, her grip painful. But they are only eyes.

Vala had expected the swirl of galaxies, the knowledge of ages, the eyes of God.

All she sees are the tired eyes of an aging woman. Cruel, and evil, but just a person, not a God.

Later, after the implantation, after the screams of those not chosen fall to silence, Vala is left alone with her new jailor. Qetesh chuckles. Foolish girl, had you not tried to escape, I would not have chosen you. You are nothing, only you willfulness deprived you of the mercy of death.

Vala tries to fight back. But she can't move, and trying makes it feel as though Qetesh has placed her in a vise and is squeezing her very soul.

"Remove those from my sight" Qetesh says as she waves Vala's hand over the still smoking bodies of the other girls. They look like cloth dolls, left abandoned on some child's room floor. Vala knew more than a few of them.

Thank you for volunteering, my host

It's the last thing Vala hears for awhile. She tries not to think about it.

***

Later, after she comes to, alone and numb from unknowable hours spent on the ground, Vala thinks maybe she should have been a little more insistent about letting the others in on her plan. Maybe someone else could have piloted the ship into the supergate as it assembled itself. Maybe someone else would have volunteered.

She's not a joiner, and she's the antithesis of altruistic, so why the flying leap into danger?

Qetesh did not leave her with much, but she did instill within her host a strong sense of self preservation, of tricking others into doing the dangerous work. Qetesh had a hall lined with the heads of allies stupid enough to take on such tasks. Even the occasional slave was given the honour of adorning the hall of fools.

So why did she do it?

A strange animal screeches out in the forest.

***

She's late.

She hasn't done anything to get herself in this situation (she's sure she'd remember).

She's late and these people don't seem like the type to approve of a pregnancy outside of marriage.

every crisis is an opportunity in disguise

Tomin.

He's her way out.

It's just a matter of getting him to propose. And of course making him think it's his idea. Women don't initiate the proposal on this world. She just needs him to volunteer.

It bothers her, to think of using him. Tomin is an innocent, one of the few good men she has met in the entire universe (they are in short supply). But desperation makes it easy to overlook the immorality of tricking a man into marriage. Besides, it's not like he doesn't have a choice. She'd never force him; it'll be entirely up to him, in the end.

It will be his choice.

The death of Melaka Fray, Fray comics

Thu, 10 Dec 2009 02:08:09 GMT

The death of Melaka Fray
Fray
ficlet
character death is up to the reader to interpret

She isn't religious.

Erin dragged them all to the House of Jesu after their parents died, even though her parents had given up on trying years ago.

When Harth died and Erin finally gave up on her, she didn't turn to a God, or a temple.

Loo didn't go someplace better after she had her neck broken. She was buried with the other garbage. It wasn't like her parents could afford the burial fees anyway.

Why pay all that money for a corpse? It's nothing.

This is all there is, and then it, and you, are gone.

Urkonn; her greatest ally, the murderer of little girls, and of trust, and her faith, was judged by nothing more than her sword.

Fray can't imagine God exists, and if he does, she seriously doubts he can see past the smog and grime that seperate the uppers from her home. Somethings are even beyond a Gods reach. Or maybe he just doesn't care. Not even the sun reaches Versi.

Either way, there's no God here.

Which is why it's so strange that she's lying on the floor of this old House of Jesu, now of all times. The blood is pouring, and ruining her favourite shirt. She tries to get up again, but stops when a dagger of pain slices open her guts.

She's taken a hit under the ribs, and managed to dust the Lurk who did it. But Lurks can smell blood from a long way off and others had come from the shadows, followed her at a distance that got smaller as the blood stains got bigger and she got slower.

She barely gets the garbage far enough away from the door to squeeze in, all while holding her guts in hands that shake.

She doesn't remember falling, or sitting, or doing anything that got her onto this floor, only waking up there. She's not sure how long she's been there, but it feels like awhile.

They're outside, she can hear whispers, scratching, things being moved around. Fray doesn't know what they are waiting for. Isn't this a Lurk wetdream? The Slayers on her last legs, bleeding out on a dusty floor and they're outside having a pow wow?

She's getting colder.

Maybe that's just the temperature outside. It's gonna take more than some freak with teeth to bring down this grabber. She's better than this, than this death. She's feeling a little stronger, like maybe she could take them, if she's having a good day, and their having a bad one, if she's desperate enough.

What is taking the Lurks so long? She's been in the House of Jesu, trapped for what feels like forever, and not one of them has come in through the door she left wedged open, or the windows that are only covered in enough debris to keep the uninterested out. The roof is practically rotted through.

Hello? She's just laying there, Slayer meat on the floor.

To hell with this. Melaka grabs her weapon, her scythe, her only real friend in a fight. Grips it in fingers that feel numb and slippery. She's going out there, and come what may, she took her own way out.

Love/Hate, Runaways

Thu, 10 Dec 2009 02:04:04 GMT

Love/Hate
Runaways
drabble
prompt was hatred

Gert's never hated anyone as much as she hates Chase's parents.

All their parents were right bastards, but Chase's parents are even worse.

It's one thing to hurt other people, to put strangers in harms way for personal gain, but Chases parents hurt their own child.

That takes a special kind of monster.

They lay together in their room in the hostel and Gert traces her fingers along scars on Chases arms and back and legs.

The saddest thing is the way he defends his dad, like it's Chase's fault.

She's never hated anyone so much as she does now that she has someone to love.

Starting Point, Buffy

Thu, 10 Dec 2009 02:00:16 GMT

Starting Point
Buffy
drabble
prompt was origin

He never would have known about it if not for Ripper.

He'd have wasted his whole life as some drunk in a bar living off of mummy and daddy's dime, if his old mate hadn't introduced him to it.

It was a revelation, once he realized magick wasn't some loser in a clown costume at children birthday party.

From magick to chaos was a natural progression.

He's talked with Gods, touched primal energies that have existed since the birth of time, and before, altered the fabric of reality.

Ethan Rayne has come a long way, and he has Giles to thank for all of it

Alliteration, Buffy

Thu, 10 Dec 2009 01:55:48 GMT

Alliteration
Buffy
drabble
Anytime after season 2 I guess
prompt was the letter S and the number 3

how about a story? will you sleep then?

The first slayer was sad in the Orient. How she could be sad, with all those sounds and screams, I'll never know. Spike slayed that slayer.

The second slayer was in the city; subways and skyscrapers. She was all sass. Spike stole her jacket after she was slain.

The third slayer is the most special, and the most stupid. She stood still while I slit her throat. Silly Slayer. Slippery when wet, blood on the floor.

Now Ms. Edith, it's time to slumber, the slayers can't get you here, you're safe while you sleep. Sweet Dreams.

Butterfly, Buffy

Thu, 12 Nov 2009 17:12:50 GMT

Butterfly
Buffy
ficlet
prompt from comment_fic was 'Tara didn't die'
warnings: character death, suicide, violence, depression, murder (nothing worse than they show on the show).

"your shirt?"

Willow fell to the ground.

"Willow!? WILLOW!" Tara screamed, and clutched, but Willow still fell, still stared blankly up at the ceiling.

Tara curled around her, crying until she thought every muscle must be pulled, but Willow still didn't get up.

Several hours later Dawn found her.

****

"You look real nice, Dawnie"

I'm not really in the mood for a fashion show right now Tara.

"I know, I'm sorry" Tara stuttered, her hands fluttering in her nervousness.

"How can I lose her again?" Dawn choked out, as she tried to hold back tears.

"I don't know Dawnie, maybe we weren't meant to bring her back?"

"Excuse me." The man from the funeral home stuck his head through the curtain, "We're going to start the service"

***

After the eviction notice Dawn stayed with Tara, in her dorm, with Xander, until Anya annoyed them both too much, with Spike, in his crypt.

She went to school, starred blankly out the window until the bell rang, then went to her "foster home" of the moment. She knew as soon as she was 18, and had a diploma she was out of here.

The teachers only passed her because they felt sorry for her.

The day of graduation, Dawn was at the bus stop, a bag slung over shoulder, a bus ticket in hand. She'd left a note so they wouldn't worry. Not that they'd likely notice - Sunnydales newest Big Bad had crushed half the town. Dawn wasn't too keen on the details- the rest of the group was so protective of her, and they were so busy trying to stop that Glory thing...

She got on the bus and never looked back

***

Faith was in her cell when it happened. She'd always known the risk was there. The Watchers Council didn't like loose ends, and they didn't get much looser than her.

It started with a slight burn in her gut.

They'd probably put it in her food.

She started to sweat, to shake.

Or maybe this was a spell. She wouldn't put much past those British wankers.

She fell to the floor, and slipped into darkness

***

Giles came to tell them about Faith, that a new Slayer had been chosen in Cleveland. When he realized how bad this Glory situation was he called in the Watcher's Council for help.

It was around this time that the First started to raise a little hell.

After a late night visit from Jenny, a couple glasses (maybe a bit more than a couple) of scotch, Giles hung himself.

The Watcher's Council set up shop, to try and combat the evils arising without a Slayer in the area to stem the tide, but mostly just got in everyones way.

They were still there when the end came.
***

Warren was everything it wanted. It fused with him, made him stronger, faster, a little less stable. Stability wasn't necessary for the Vessel of the First.

During one fight he crushed Xanders skull with one hand.

Anya screamed out to D'Hoffran to make her a vengence demon, but was dead before he could grant her request.

***
In LA, Angelus roamed free. There was no Slayer to take him down. His team tried, failed. He killed them one by one. He saved Conner for last.

Jasmine burst forth into the world, and raised a massive following. A massive army, all hopelessly devoted to her.

She sent her army in droves to end the reign of Glorificus, who reigned in what was left in Sunnydale, to contain the evil of the First, who was working with her.

When that was done she built a temple. She built it over a 100 square miles of LA.

***

When Illyria rose (and infected some poor bastard on the ship that fished it out of the sea) she shook Jasmine's empire, but couldn't defeat it.

Luckily for the GodKing of the Primordium, her vessel could not contain the true essence of Illyria. When Illyria went, she took most of North America with her. It was a death worthy of a God.

***

The dust still hasn't settled. The temperature is colder, and the sky is dark, and raining, more often then not.

But those of us that are left are free.

REMIX:Fade Out (The meant to be Remix)

Thu, 29 Oct 2009 16:48:52 GMT

Original Fic: Fade Out, by kindkit
Remix: Fade Out (The meant to be Remix)
Angel
double drabble

character death

This is how Black men always die.

Every damn movie he watched with his sister and his mom (when they had electricity), the Black guy always bites it in some dead end alley.

What a fucking metaphor.

When his people are fighting for their lives and their homes, they die in abandoned factories, and in burnt out shops.

Blood stains on dirty streets.

Gunn doesn't see any other way out for himself. This is just how things work down here.

When he's in a corner office with his own secretary, wearing Armani and with the collected works of Abbot and Costello (plus a law degree) crammed into his brain, he's as far from those dead end streets as it's humanly possible to get. But he never stops thinking he won't still die on one.

When Gunn thinks about how he's going out, it's always with a weapon in hand, fighting, on the streets he was raised on.

When the time comes, it's just like he knew it would be. Blood splattering on the pavement, washed away like he never was, following the rain into the gutters. Another Black man forgotten before the sun has even risen.

Maybe he was always meant to die like this.

REMIX:Human (The hope springs eternal Remix), Buffy

Thu, 29 Oct 2009 16:45:56 GMT

Original Fic: Human, by kindkit
Remix: Human (The hope springs eternal Remix)
Buffy
ficlet

Ethan Rayne is sure of one thing and it is this: Giles will save him.

Truthfully, he's been a bit of a dick to his old mate, and not all of it done to honour glorious chaos. Ethan really is just a bastard sometimes. He gets that.

He also knows just how good a man Ripper is; how he held the whole group together, kept them from falling totally off the cliff when they started to dabble with the darker magics. He even forgave him for the Halloween incident. Well, he never came after him for it, and that's as good as forgiveness in Ethan's book.

Giles will come for him, or send the Slayer. He will.

Ethan rocks back and forth in his tiny square of a cell buried so far under ground he forgets what sunlight feels like, and waits for his rescue. 74 days and counting.

Giles is coming. He knows it.

REMIX:Nothing New Under the Sun (The Zombies ate my brain Remix) , Stargate

Thu, 29 Oct 2009 16:44:08 GMT

Original Fic: Nothing New Under the Sun, by jedibuttercup
Remix: Nothing New Under the Sun (The Zombies ate my brain Remix)
Stargate
drabble

Jonas Quinn isn't really here. Maybe he died fighting alongside SG-1 (that's his favourite), or maybe he never left Kelowna and died when the first Naquadria bomb went off. Maybe he lost his mind, just like his mentor did.

The women he loves is a Goa'uld. The woman he loves is dead. His world is under threat, and Jonas will likely die in the coming fight.

He sleeps in an empty bed, works with the woman who is and is not his lover. Goes back home to an empty bed.

Daniel must be a stronger man than him.

Daniel survived.

Jonas isn't sure he did.

REMIX:Chaapa'ai (The disney world Remix), Stargate

Thu, 29 Oct 2009 16:41:47 GMT

Original Fic: Chaapa'ai, by izhilzha
Remix: Chaapa'ai (The disney world Remix)
Stargate
double drabble

Up all night surrounded by translations and books that once he might have read for fun, but are now needed to finish his next report, Daniel Jackson forgets that once the Stargate was everything.

It was proof he was right, it was a gateway to stars and worlds beyond, it lead to his wife. It was hope and life.

It's a means of conveyance. It's a job. It's one more way for the people around him to get themselves killed.

In the beginning they thought it meant 'Doorway to Heaven'. The only way that's true is if he counts the endless funerals. Itchy suits and wreaths sent through into nothing.

Why buy empty coffins when a ring of dead flowers is just as good?

When he sleeps, if he sleeps, he dreams. It's warm, and sandy and more real than real life seems lately. In his dreams the Stargate is still a thing of beauty. It ripples and dances like something living. His wife at his side, hope in his heart, Daniel Jackson stands on the edge of eternity.

When he wakes up alone, knows he won't get anymore sleep and goes back to his office. Back to the job. He has a report due.

REMIX:Horace's Five Favourite Sins(The ace of spades Remix), Harry Potter

Thu, 29 Oct 2009 16:38:41 GMT

Original Fic: Horace's Five Favourite Sins, by benebu
Remix: Horace's Five Favourite Sins (The ace of spades Remix)
Harry Potter
drabble

He can be lazy, and take more than his share. Who is he to deny a good thing it's time and place?

Lust; once upon a time, Horace was quite the ladies man. Not that a gentlemen would discuss such a thing.

And he has been quick to anger when confronted with a stubborn mind.

Horace will admit to his occasional fight with the green eyed monster.

He's a proud man, but really, how can one be humble unless one has something to be proud of?

But his greatest sin, the one Harry wants him to relive, it's too much. Some sins aren't for confessing.

REMIX:Ring (The together forever Remix), BSG

Thu, 29 Oct 2009 16:36:50 GMT

Original Fic: Ring (hold infinity in your hand), by amathela
Remix: Ring (The together forever Remix)
BSG
drabble

Chief pulls it out of Boomer's old bird. It's nothing, a slip of metal. It's not even necessary to the inner workings of the ship, not really.

Boomer's Raptor is still in working order. It's just that no one is allowed to fly it.

He spends his empty nights with a blow torch, welding and shaping and smoothing. It has to be perfect.

"It's nothing, just a piece of scrap from a Raptor" he says as he hands over the ring.

Helo looks at him, a question in his eyes.

It's okay. It's not Boomer.

He doesn't say it out loud, but Helo gets it.

REMIX:Abundance Of Goods Does No Harm (The dirge Remix)

Thu, 29 Oct 2009 16:32:27 GMT

Original Fic: Abundance of Goods does no harm, by benebu
Remix: Abundance Of Goods Does No Harm (The dirge Remix)
Harry Potter
double drabble

This is the Last Will and Testament of Dobby, a free House Elf

I, Dobby, being of sound mind and body do hereby bequeth my entire collection to one Harry Potter; the most noble of Wizards, to whom Dobby is forever indebted.

With a flourish, the House Elf signed and dated the document, and sent it by owl to Winky, the executrix of his estate. He was the first house elf in known history to even have an estate, and he was quite pleased he had something to leave behind to the ones who mattered most to him.

Winky had finally started to come around and he trusted her with this most sacred of tasks. She also happened to be the only other free elf capable of doing what he asked (he certainly couldn't ask a Wizard to help one such as him)

It was all he had in the world but it was everything. Sometimes at night he would pull his collection out and run his long fingers over the different textures, look at the different colours and patterns. They were all so beautiful.

It was a week after the war ended that a box full of socks arrived at Harry Potter's doorstop.

REMIX:Eight (Because Seven Ate Nine Remix)

Thu, 29 Oct 2009 16:28:19 GMT

Original Fic: Eight, by amathela
Remix: Eight (Because Seven Ate Nine Remix)
BSG
ficlet

Sharon was from Troy. She had a family and a first boyfriend, and a first kiss and a first fuck which was disappointing, but got better the more they did it.

She isn't Sharon.

Boomer is serving aboard Galacrica. It's her home away from home, especially after the attack. Boomer is a pilot, one of the best. Boomer loves Chief, and playing poker.

She isn't Boomer.

Athena is on Caprica. Athena thinks she might love Helo. Athena is pregnant with Helos baby.

Athena is a cylon.

She's not real either, but at least she knows it.

She's never been to Troy, although she can remember being a little girl there.

She's never served on Galactica, although she can close her eyes and feel Chiefs touch, the burn of stolen liquor and stolen kisses.

She's been rained on and exposed to radiation, and she's in the run from her own people. For the first time Sharon "Athena" Valerii feels real.

REMIX:Running Mates (The 4th spatial dimension Remix)

Thu, 29 Oct 2009 16:26:03 GMT

Original Fic: Running Mates, by little_missmimi
Remix: Running Mates (The 4th spatial dimension Remix)
SPN
drabble

He runs.

If there's a track team he'll join it, because if he doesn't and the coach notices it's all sorts of unwanted attention.

They have to go unnoticed.

He runs.

The wind and the speed and the freedom are the only times Sam feels normal. He can shut out the world and his thoughts, that never shut up otherwise.

He runs.

Dean watches. He comes to the meets, and races him if there's no one else for Sam to compare himself to (it's one thing to run for pleasure, another thing to run faster than everyone else).

Sam runs, but he can't get away.

REMIX: Holding (The stalwort and true Remix), Buffy

Thu, 29 Oct 2009 16:23:57 GMT

Original Fic: Holding, by izhilzha
Remix: Holding (The stalwort and true Remix)
Buffy
Ficlet

She cries and screams until she can't anymore.

She cries for Tara, and what she did to Warren, and what she's done to her friends. She cries because Giles might be dead and she might be the one who did it.

She cries because Xander is holding her, and rubbing her back and telling her it's going to be okay, and for the first time since Tara fell to the ground with a red circle blossoming on her chest Willow believes it.

She cries because she almost ended the world, after everything they've done to save it. After everything they've lost fighting for it.

She cries because she attacked Xander and who else would do the snoopy dance for her if she snuck over to their house on Christmas?

She's not sleeping, but she's too washed out to move, clutching at Xander and staying very still seems like the only thing for her to do.

REMIX:Equanimity (The gemini rising Remix), Firefly

Thu, 29 Oct 2009 16:18:47 GMT

Original Fic: Equanimity
, by little_missmimi
Remix: Equanimity (The gemini rising Remix)
Firefly
ficlet

It pulls and it pushes.

Even docked as far from the edge of it, River can feel the ocean. She can smell the crisp scent of real air (not recycled, unhygienic and on a breeze, not out of vent) kissed by the sea (pungent).

Like a river returning to the ocean that spawns it, River slips out of the ship, skips and twists over rocks, past people and buildings to the oceans edge.

No one notices her leave, all too concerned with their own little worlds (cheap alternators, studies, money, women).

Too hot sand pushes her forward. Burns at her feet until her toes dip into the edge of cool wet sand, sprayed by the ocean.

The call of the ship (they need her) pulls her back. The needs and wants of a ship full of people calls her home.

With a sigh she turns.

She knows she'll be back.

Rivers always flow to the sea.