katakokk: (Camelot OT4 [we're here to fix things])
[personal profile] katakokk
♫ Well, not quite. Just the fic written by me. Will be editing with things I have written. Also, second post in one day. D:

Last updated: 12/12/11

** = new

**Acadamia, postmodernism, "Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"
They say you must swear, place that hand here, raise that hand, repeat after me, now you are bound though these words are not your own, they are not anyone's. Swear tell do, truth whole and nothing truth, solemnly you to truth? Yes.

Chemistry, salt/water, "If you're not part of the solution, you're part of the precipitate."
"What are you?" the sodium ion asks defensively, "Certainly, you're not an acid."

"No, no, no," the nitrate ion stutters out, "I'm not an acid, I'm a salt."

"You're in solution," the sodium points out airily.

Anthropomorphic objects, rain/dew, blushing maiden
The dew is new and young, and the tiniest thing that the rain has ever seen, her hair glistening like the droplets on the flower she holds out shyly.

"Thank you," the rain says, accepting the flower. The dew stands awkwardly, shuffling her feet, and the rain holds out her arms, "Come here."

Anthropomorphic objects, England/New Zealand, so far from home
America opens her house for them, because she's in the middle and the Atlantic and the Pacific and North and South America is just too damn far.

England is late, is what New Zealand thinks as he sits on America's kitchen counter, swirling the drink she offered him and staring as the ice whirls round and round and clicks agains the glass.

Then the door opens with a bang and he drops the glass.

Anthropomorphic objects, iron/cloth, memory
The iron can remember the feeling, remembers each bit of the cloth as she presses down upon him, his soft skin a contrast to her metallic hardness.

There are many cloths, to be sure, and they are all neighbors on Closet Street: the prim oxford who lives next door to the fancy pleated skirt, she across the street from the t-shirt, whom the iron has never met.

But the one she remembers the most is the old button-down, soft from years and years of wear and tear, but ever willing to be made crisp and new beneath her.

Anthropomorphic objects, music/theatre/dance, my name in lights
They are sisters, all three of them, born in quick succession and never apart, for you cannot have one without the other.


Music takes the lead, she dips her fingers in the pots of her younger sisters' lives, but they need her and eagerly devour her offerings.


Their lives are indistinct and messy, divided by genres, until they reunite on Broadway.

Anthropomorphic objects, New York/Boston, sibling rivalry
Boston is the younger of the two, and though their parents are not the same, they have always been sisters, New York and Boston.

Boston has the Red Sox, but New York the Yankees, a fact that she constantly rubs in the face of her younger sister, especially at family dinners (Hartford is usually forced by Concord and Augusta to mediate).

There is no end to their rivalry, because New York will always have more people, but each year, they send each other birthday cards anyways.

Avatar: the Last Airbender, Ty Lee/Azula, set aside childish things
Azula holds her hand out, the palm flat and demanding.

"B-but," Ty Lee says, her excuse dying on her lips as Azula glares at her and thrusts her hand into her face. Squeezing her eyes shut, Ty Lee hands over the doll.

Avatar: the Last Airbender, Kyoshi, military brat
The other girls don't like her. They call her names, names worse than tomboy, which she rather likes, and sometimes they throw stones at her like they do to the chickens and the sideshow that came through town once. But she doesn't mind, because the men in the army teach her how to fight, so she can protect her little brother.

Avatar: the Last Airbender, Kyoshi, growing up army
Kyoshi is born into the army, it is in her blood, her first memory watching the soldiers run through drills while lolling on a blanket under a lean-to; more clear than many years of memory after that.

The next she can remember is every single spar, every single battle, from when she was four, picking up her first pair of fans, to when she is almost three hundred and has seen so many die that she will always have dreams, even if she lives to be a thousand.

And she knows, she knows, that she was born into the army, and she will die in the army.

**Any, any, "We're not nice. We're good people, but we're not nice."
There are stories told about High King Peter, because of course there are stories told about High King Peter, they wouldn't call it the Golden Age and forget to have stories about the one who was golden (golden and bloody), suitably embellished and cleaned up for small children's ears, of course.

When they return, the Narnians expect a hero and a warrior and a monarch and a symbol, and Peter has not felt like any of those in a year, except that he has, has felt it in his bones and blood and he falls back into the roles, the parts he plays, just a little short, a little rusty.

A Narnian sees the High King stalking the halls of the How and wonders aloud why, if he is good, he isn't nice, and Edmund replies, "We never promised to be nice."

**Chronicles of Narnia, that fox that got changed to stone, toast to the future
When he's turned back with a gust of warm, sweet breath, he sees rich and gold and fury and knows Aslan, know the future is come.

When he sees King Edmund, all scuffing feet and biting lip with head down, he does not feel anger; he still sees warmth and gold and light.

If he'd had a glass right then, he would have called for a toast.

**Chronicles of Narnia, immortal Susan/Edmund, it's the turn of the century and they're still here
Susan tries skinny jeans, but there's a comfort in skirts and blouses, and Edmund jokes and says she looks just as she did when she was nineteen.

She is not nineteen anymore, has lost count of the age and time and years, though she thinks she must be at least seventy, maybe more, but it doesn't matter because all things change, but not them.

While they're moving again, queueing to pass through security (international flights are always a pain) and return to England, Edmund catches her hand in his and squeezes.

**Chronicles of Narnia, Susan & Edmund, what matters to you doesn't matter to them
Her vanity is almost new; there is a parade of chips running down the left side legs, from some long-ago scrimmage with a stubborn wall, but the meticulously laid out items (lipstick, powder, kohl, brushes) gleam with a bright and stubborn light.

Edmund remembers her room in Narnia, so like this, everything neat and aligned at the table, Susan before the mirror, putting on pearl earrings, slipping needles into her hair.

She will sit before the mirror and draw all the borders she can (line her lips, her eyes).

**Chronicles of Narnia, Jadis, heartbeat
She discovers that humans have a rhythm (ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum) that is rich and full, pulsing and humming under a layer a thin, smooth coverlet of skin.

She basks in her revelation, lies back and hears the sound of living, the sound of breath and patter and talk and always ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum in her mind and all around her, like a symphony (but without so much of the wood and screeching and fierce movement she saw and only the sweet, simple movement of living).

While she listens, she lays a hand on her chest, on the left side.

Chronicles of Narnia, Peter, PC movieverse, yearning for an other time
He wants another time, another place, another world, one that isn't bombs and grey and pavement and smoke, one where the air is clean.

It doesn't help that there is just enough beauty in England to see Narnia, a flower blooming just so and he thinks of the Dancing Lawn, stained glass and he thinks of the Cair, Susan's laugh.

He wants another world, wants his country and his home, the land he swore to protect.

Chronicles of Narnia, Jadis, visions of myself
She sees herself in her incarnations: past, present, future. Each time there is something different, each time there is something the same, each time she waits for the next try.

They make think they've killed her, but she hasn't quite given up yet.

Chronicles of Narnia, Jill/Eustace (or Jill&Eustace), after Voyage
Alberta had said that Jill had come over for a visit, and so Eustace put the painting back on the wall and left the room with his cousins.

Jill stands awkwardly at the foot of the stairs and smiles a little when she sees Eustace. He smiles back and says, "Pole, these are my cousins, Edmund and Lucy."

Chronicles of Narnia, girl!Edmund, dresses and knives
When you carry knives in breeches, you make a statement; but, when you carry them in dresses, you hide them in the folds of your skirts. Edlyn does this, strapping daggers to her thighs, slipping stilettos up her sleeves, having the seamstress construct hidden pockets in the folds of her skirts.

The Galman ambassador bows low before her siblings and her, and she rests a hand on her right thigh as Peter's hand moves to his left hip.

Chronicles of Narnia, girl!Edmund, more like her
This is basically the emergence of the all-girl!Pevensieverse, sort of
Edlyn wants to be more like Peta, and Susan, and Lucy. She's always wanted to be like Peta, more than anything, even though Susan is closer to her in age, but Peta was the golden girl, the oldest sister, the shining head of their family, and that is what Edlyn wanted.

But after the White Witch turns the Fox into stone, Edlyn begins to want to be like Susan, and Lucy.

Chronicles of Narnia, Susan, they cannot scare me with their empty spaces
When Susan goes to her first party, her first real party, everyone is dolled up in the latest styles, the neweest cuts, and it is as if there is no war right outside their doorsteps, and Peter is not crashing helicopters and half-killing himself and the Germans, and Edmund too.

They pretend as if there is nothing wrong with the world, as if nothing exists beyond their wine glasses and their nylons (where did they get them? Susan thinks, because you can't find them, not anywhere, and she has looked everywhere) and "How is it going with you and that John fellow?" And then, they dare, they dare to frown upon her, question who this green girl is in their presence, how she dares invade their empty spaces and their hollows, and she is not afraid.

Chronicles of Narnia, Peter&Susan, responsibility
When their father goes to war, and their mother goes to work to support the family, Peter and Susan must step up to raise the family. It is almost like playing house, like when they were small, when Peter was "Daddy" and Susan was "Mummy," and Ed and Lu were the good little children.

Then, of course, the fall term begins and their glass castles of "responsibility" are shattered.

Chronicles of Narnia, Edmund, thoughts on Calormen
It is too hot in Calormen, that is what Edmund decides when he arrives in he sandy, dusty, crowded city of Tashbaan, riding up to the Tisroc's palace as a crier runs before him, warning people to make way fo the barbarian king, crowding the people together more, raising the heat, and the dust.

He thinks it is like what the Sahara would be like, except soon it becomes that the Sahara would be like Calormen, and not that Calormen is like the Sahara, whatever that very well may be.

It is a land of sand, of heat, and of water, but only of the kind that runs from your eyes and makes dry faces sting.

Chronicles of Narnia, Jill/Eustace, fanciable
"So, Jill, this Eustace boy, what is he really like?"

"What do you mean?" Jill asks, scowling up at her sister, who is carefully applying make-up before the mirror in their bedroom.

"You know what I mean," Elizabeth says coyly, finishing off her lipstick with a flourish, "Is he fanciable?"

Chronicles of Narnia, Jill, orphan girl
Jill may as well be an oprhan. Her parents ship her off to school, to the Experiment House, where no parent would send their child if they had a grain of compassion, and Jill is alone.

Then she meets Eustace, who is snobby and lectures her and talks about his parents' hoity-toity beliefs, but he sits by her at lunch and she is not so alone.

Chronicles of Narnia, Jill, first impression of Peter and Edmund
Eustace invites her over to his cousins' house, because she's alone at her house over the winter hols, but actually because he's terrified of them - the Pevensies - and so she wonders just how bad they can be, Eustace's cousins who once ruled Narnia, apparently.

A tall blonde boy, Peter, opens the door and simply raises an eyebrow at the pair before stepping back to let them enter while Eustace frowns.

The room is dead silent for a moment, and Jill can almost feel all of their eyes on her, raking over her body, raising eyebrows identical to Peter's, and then the other, dark haired boy, Edmund, rolls his eyes and says, "I'm too old for this."

Chronicles of Narnia, Rilian, kings of old
Rilian reads of the kings of old, of their battles and balls and everything in between. There are many, many biographies on them, from the beginning of the Dying Times and from his father's reign, but none of them ever say the same thing.

He thinks he would have liked to meet them.

Chronicles of Narnia, Pevensies, revolution!AU
Peter's back is pressed up against the rough bark of a tree, somewhere to his right Edmund and the rest of their troops - hopelessly few men, but he's won wars with less before - are concealed behind the great trees of the forest. He can hear Susan's smooth words and Lucy's innocent laughter - a ploy, of course, Lucy hasn't been innocent for years and years, since Narnia - as they lead the British general into the forest.

Afterwards, Edmund remarks about killing a British general, in a way, one of them, but the corpse is not one of them, not their people, and the people they are fighting for are not their people either, but it as close as it gets.

Chronicles of Narnia, Peter, girl!Edmund, boy!Susan, boy!Lucy, pick-pocket!AU, you can never go home
They can't go back now, not back to where they belong, not back to the farce of a home in the dusty streets of London, for they have given it all up, given it up for this.

Sam frowns as Lucas, grinning cheerfully, hands him several wallets, ranging from fat leather ones to skinny ones made from scraps.

"Now we really can't go back," he murmurs, fingering a familiar wallet monogrammed with the initials "HP," and Edlyn, from her seat on Peter's lap, snorts.

Chronicles of Narnia, all-male!Pevensies, no one fights you like your family
They're always sniping, sometimes seriously, and sometimes not at all, but always, the snide remarks, dry, with an eye roll and a sardonic smirk. They pull each other apart and put each other back together.

When Peter comes back to the Cair after a day spent riding mysteriously around Narnia (he left without explanation at the crack of dawn, the rest of them are not morning people), with a great gash in his shoulder and Sam clucks like a mother hen and proceed to bandage him up, and then, when he is finished and Peter thinks he's escaped, Sam's fist collides with Peter's face.

Chronicles of Narnia, all-male!Pevensies, too much to drink
Sam can't remember the last time he'd had this much to drink; maybe after I realized that Raba, the Calormene princess, had been leading me on he thinks as he stumbles towards what he thinks is a chair, but is really Lucas propped up against the wall, his head lolling.

"Fucking ow," he says, and Sam briefly wonders why a chair is talking (though it is Narnia, so it's not as if it's particularly frightening), and falls backward as he loses his balance from surprise.

"Watch where ya goin'," Lucas slurs, as, in the far corner of the room, Edmund vomits.

Chronicles of Narnia, Peter, last to know
Peter is never the last to know, though he is not always the first, but he is never the last, because he has Edmund, and Edmund will keep him informed, because that is what he does.

But when Peter comes home for the winter hols after his first term at uni, he is greeted by Edmund and Lucy, and not Susan. This time, he is the last to know.

Chronicles of Narnia, Peter and Edmund, we wrote our names in blood
There are tales: tales of the feats of the High King and his brother, tales told in hushed voices around fires years and years after the last who remember - Queen Susan's smile, Queen Lucy's laugh - have died off, and the tales are all that is left.

They say that the High King forged the country of blood, that he once wrote his name in blood on the crumbled walls of a traitor's fortress, and that his brother followed, the Shadow King.

When they return after the failed night raid, and Peter storms furiously through the halls of the How, the Narnians blanch, and Edmund runs after him.

Chronicles of Narnia/Anne of Green Gables, Lucy/Anne, dreamer girls
"And what do you call that?" Lucy asks, pointing.

"The Lake of Shining Waters," Anne responds dreamily, throwing herself down upon the grass.

"It's beautiful."

Avatar: the Last Airbender/Chronicles of Narnia, Edmund&Zuko, privileged leaders
The boy is younger than he is, with dark hair and pale, pale skin, almost Fire Nation, but not quite, yet nobility rolls off of him in almost visible waves. Zuko is more than a little intimidated, and Mai, on his left, jabs him discreetly with an elbow.

From the boy-king's (though he can't really talk, he became Fire Lord at the age of sixteen, then not yet a man) clothes, he is from a distant, distant land, and though it is hard to see, Zuko can pick out tiny flickers of confusion.

Merlin/Chronicles of Narnia, Merlin&Arthur&Edmund, the kings are at a diplomatic meeting, and Merlin is Arthur's adviser
Sometimes, Edmund has a lot to say.

Arthur nods intermittently as the younger, darker king talks; about trade, about taxes, about the price of this and that and all sorts of things that are flying over his head because, to his right and a little behind him, stands Merlin.

It is Merlin's first day as his official adviser, and he's fallen asleep.

Merlin/Chronicles of Narnia, Morgana/Susan, the shape of things to come
Morgana sees the things to come: all the victories, defeats, and muddy moments in between of quiet fierplaces and sparking magic.


Susan doesn't know what is to come, not really, not until Aslan tells her that she can't come back, not ever and then there is only one path she can take, with only one destination.


She sees her across the street, a mirror image of herself, the water in her dark curls reflecting under the light of the electric lamp, and crosses the street.

Mulan, Shang/Mulan, weary of peace
"I'm tired of this," Shang announces one day, throwing himself down on their bed.

"Tired of peace?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"I need something to do."

**Downton Abbey, Violet, the times they are a-changin'
Violet does not approve of electricity, or weekends, or going out canvassing, for goodness' sake. And she certainly does not approve of swivel chairs, she fights an American every day without them, thank you very much.

But the war is on, and as much as Downton must remain Downton, she supposes learning to drive and becoming a nurse are not among the worst options, because after all, her sister-in-law did load the guns at Lucknow.

Harry Potter, Draco/Ginny, I can live without you, I just don't want to.
"People are beginning to think you can't live without me," Ginny says casually, reaching up to brush a stray hair off his forehead.

"Are they, blood traitor?" he says, raising an eyebrow sardonically as she smirks at the epithet. "I'd survive," he concedes, "I just don't want to."

Harry Potter, Neville/Luna, meander
They walk around the grounds a lot, just the two of them, Neville listening as Luna rambles on about the Quibbler, her father, srange nonexistant animals, and the Quibbler. He doesn't really listen to half of what he was saying, and he knows that his Gran would have strong words with him about that if she every found out, but he likes to listen to the sound of her voice, and Luna doesn't mind.

Once, they set out on a Friday afternoon when they both don't have classes, and by the time they return to the castle, it is dark.

**Merlin, Lancelot/Gwen, for her favor I would die a thousand deaths
He will walk to the end of the earth to kiss the ground before her feet, softly and warmly like a touch of summer dew.

And when he kisses her mouth and her eyelids and her neck and her, whenever he can, he wants to hold her close and breathe her in.

So he inclines his head, and she hers, and he sees the smile that is just for him.

Merlin, Morgana, A world lit only by fire
She doesn't dream of fanciful ideals or fairytales, she dreams of things to come, and one of these things is fire.

Her sister is gone now, and she is all alone, and there will be fire in Camelot, everywhere. On the battlements, across the cobblestones, spilling over from torches onto the walls and floors, eating at the air, in the moat.

Merlin, Gwen, every revolution has its sun
She isn't really sure when she became the face of the knights' cause, when she went from being Gwen to Lady Guinevere, when she became a symbol.

It has something to do with the way Arthur looks at her, and maybe also something to do with the way she smiles back at him, something that the knights see, that she can feel but not speak of.

She never says anything about this development.

Merlin RPF, Bradley/Angel, changing the script
"Have you seen this?" Bradley cries, shoving a thick stack of paper - the script, presumably - under Angel's nose.

Angel scans over the page quickly as Bradley rambles on in her ear (she's long since learned how to tune him out, catching only the important bits: Julian, script, crazy, won't, Arthur, Gwen, script), and her jaw drops as she reaches the end of the page.

As Bradley continues rambling, Angel reaches into her purse for a pen, "Well, then, we'll just have to change that."

**Original, superheros, codenames are important
"How about....Firecracker?" Adam suggests, tossing fireball into the air with one hand, spotting it carefully with the other lest it catch the bed on fire.

"Are you kidding?" Hannah asks from her perch on the wall. "What's your deal with the codenames, anyways? It's not a big deal."

"Well, if you don't come up with something, the tabloids will make it up for you. And if I were you, I wouldn't fancy being called Toad-Girl."

**Original, superheroes, corner of your eye
It's the spot Madeline always misses, the blink and gone place, where someone will hide and she'll turn and feel the pull and give of the air, but see no one.

This time, Elaine shouts and she ducks instinctively, kicking out at a baddie's ankles as there is the woosh and thump of telekinesis.

"Watch it, Gale," Elaine says when it's over, cowl off and hair mussed, offering out a hand.

**Original, superheroes, you think I'm afraid of that?
He's disabled the bomb, tied up the bad guys, and punched the particularly mouthy one once more, just for good measure, when he sees her standing at the edge of the roof.

Beneath them are the swarm of sirens and lights and haphazard cars and he knows she is wondering whether the Kevlar is enough.

"You ready for this?" he asks, and she looks at him, smiles, and leaps into the chaos below.

Romeo and Juliet, Paris, a bookish lad
Paris may be a count, but as a small child he was more interested in the books in his father's library. He could disappear into the room of books for hours, hiding underneath pages of adventures outside the stifling city of Verona.

This is where he learns he ought to be a man of wax.

X-Men: First Class, Alex/Darwin, he doesn't sleep well for weeks after
All he sees in the evenings is the hard rock and the light, the I'm going now, goodbye, and sometimes even under his eyelids, during the day, it lives there like an infection, a disease he will not let go and will not let him go.

Two weeks, maybe three, together against cold cement walls and government-regulated beds but warm and fast and alive and I am not afraid, not with you.

Darwin trusted him; it was his fault.

**Young Justice, Artemis&Robin, he's so very small
When the Reds pull Robin up with the water, suspended like a marionette (strings cut), he is only red and black shadow fluttering in and out of focus in a sea of blues. But then she sees, this boy ("Get traught, or get dead.") who can plan and plan and plan to save his friends, to save them all, he is nothing but a boy, an extraordinary boy, but a boy all the same.

She wants to curl into a ball, she wants to run away, but he is so small.

December 2014

282930 31   

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 26th, 2017 07:33 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios