fics: just my kind of awful (p1)
May. 21st, 2015 02:24 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
clockwork_hart1i mentioned that ficathon, right?
so! (all fics in this post for my fav,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fluffyfrolicker)
sugar on the asphalt
btvs/tvd
dawn/elena
pg
(let's go where we're wanted and i'll meet you at the cemetery gates)
the moon is round and full and swinging low and there are seven cars sat on the edge of the woods.
odds are at least one belongs to a monster or the dead - and she might be both, but that's just encouragement. glass blankets the passenger seat and slides across her knuckles like snow and she opens the door to slide across and feel the wheel under her hand.
how long before they come looking? hard to say. how long before they forget entirely? not long enough.
the engine hums just so under her hands and feet and headlights only brighten five foot in front of her and she could just sink into the night and never resurface.
it's a nice thought.
jeremy's ipod sits in the dock, fills the car with something living and Jimmy Eat World songs twine with the night - what's wrong, baby? don't they treat you like they should?
night just rolls out like fresh asphalt, keeps going, going, gone; Mystic Falls a vanishing spot in the rear view then wiped away like fruitflies on the windscreen. Her skin likes the feeling of not being watched. Her chest likes the feeling of being welded shut.
did you take 'em for it? every penny that you could?
daylight spills out and the car keeps moving, will not stop until elena gilbert is a ghost and she's just - whoever the fuck she is without the name and face slowing her down. roads split off into highways and back into backstreets and no one pulls ahead - no one dares. a cop sidles up beside her and she puts her mouth to his wrist and makes him forget his own name. wind flies through the smashed window, feels like kisses to her neck.
some city - any city - unfolds, greyscale and airless. a girl in purple and black like a bruise sits on the curb; tangled hair spilling over her shoulders, her jeans ripped at the knees. her knees are bent, feet spread in the road. her back is stretched on the ground, head pillowed in the yellowing suburban grass, a notebook open over her face.
elena stops the car.
"hey, you going anywhere?"
the girl sits up, the book falling shut in her lap. her eyes are black-rimmed and wild.
"nowhere, actually, but i can be persuaded otherwise."
she smiles like she knows all of elena's secrets - and couldn't care less. elena brushes the glass off the passenger side and leans over to open the door.
"i'm dawn", the girl smiles, wraps her fingers around the silver cross at her throat.
"elena", she smiles back.
dawn leans back like she's found something like a home, feet settled just above the dashboard. "let's go be monsters."
elena starts the car.
morning shines it all away
doctor who
rose/lady!doctor
pg
(slow dancing in a burning room)
(au timeline where 1x02 happens like three months later and involves less peril)
when they were sixteen, lauren jackson from two doors down would always light a cig and lean out of rose's bedroom window, the pink lace of her underwear peeking out under the edge of her jean-shorts. she would lean out the window, blow smoke in a plume towards the sky and say she wanted to watch the world burn.
rose never quite got it - not when lauren stole her first kiss to "practise", or when she'd slide into rose's bed when her dad had come back drunk and vicious. not even when she knocked out billy nathan for calling rose a slag. rose never hungered much for destruction - violence, maybe, pain even. but not something so mindless.
and yet there was the world, burning up in front of her, and nothing had ever looked so breathtaking.
that could mean a lot of things, though. because sixteen year old rose never ran away far enough to loose sight of the Powell Estate block looming over the horizon. sixteen year old rose never fell into anyone's arms and expected them to catch her.
nineteen year old rose is here, sat on the edge of a bombsite, watching the world melt into the sun.
the doctor's arms slide around her waist and press low against her belly where the butterflies blossom.
"are we sad, rose tyler?" she can hear the pout there, curling around the words.
"i'm something - dunno. nostalgic maybe? that down there - that's what a trillion lifetimes? and they're just poofing away into nothing." she leans back into the doctor, pressing up against her front, long dark curls tangling with the blonde.
the doctor props her chin on the crown of rose's head and starts humming, the song low under her breath.
"is that britney spears?" she smiles with her teeth, can't help it.
the doctor sways them both to the melody; "ancient classic."
rose laughs and drifts on the sound, the feel of a body holding her up and moving with her, catching her and running alongside.
"doctor? can you tell me about something - i dunno. something that makes you catch your breath just to think about. something happy."
a lot of her memories run together these days. timelines and foreign life and waking up a thousand worlds away from her tangled bedsheets, grey from overwashing. she'd like to remember something wonderful; it doesn't have to be hers.
the doctor makes a tutting sound and slides round to rose's front. her sharp, odd features filling up the space between destruction and rose herself. "just imagine a pair of feet, in cheap primark plimsoles tip-toeing onto the tardis with no intention of pressing back into the ground. a girl with big eyes that ache to see whatever the universe has to offer. that's what makes me catch my breath."
lauren always wanted to see the world burn because it owed her that much. rose just wants to see it - all of it; destruction and all. she leans forward, just slightly, her weight balanced on the tips of her toes and brushes her lips against the doctor's.
she pulls back before there's a space to breathe and tangles their fingers together.
"i've seen the end of the world, now." she whispers, pressing her face into the doctor's neck. "show me the start of one."
the doctor squeezes rose's hand and spins her around. "as you wish."
this is a hymn
the 100
raven
teen
(Everything about my heart is a crime scene.)
she will not pick flowers
she will not pick flowers from the ground or let dirt cake under her fingernails. she will not mourn what she refuses to forget.
when your mother dies you go on knowing that is the order of things.
when your friends die you will go on in the memory of them.
she will not sit by a gravesite, or tend to her wounds.
she will not sit by a gravesite because none will be erected. she will not tend to her wounds because she cannot reach inside herself to line her ribs with novocaine. and fights will go on without her and friends will fall beside her and mostly she will try not to care. she will not sleep for weeks, alone or in company.
when your lover dies, your heart will quiver until it finds a new rhythm.
when your soul dies, your body will go on without it - and if you're good enough, no one will know the difference.
so! (all fics in this post for my fav,
fluffyfrolicker)sugar on the asphalt
btvs/tvd
dawn/elena
pg
(let's go where we're wanted and i'll meet you at the cemetery gates)
the moon is round and full and swinging low and there are seven cars sat on the edge of the woods.
odds are at least one belongs to a monster or the dead - and she might be both, but that's just encouragement. glass blankets the passenger seat and slides across her knuckles like snow and she opens the door to slide across and feel the wheel under her hand.
how long before they come looking? hard to say. how long before they forget entirely? not long enough.
the engine hums just so under her hands and feet and headlights only brighten five foot in front of her and she could just sink into the night and never resurface.
it's a nice thought.
jeremy's ipod sits in the dock, fills the car with something living and Jimmy Eat World songs twine with the night - what's wrong, baby? don't they treat you like they should?
night just rolls out like fresh asphalt, keeps going, going, gone; Mystic Falls a vanishing spot in the rear view then wiped away like fruitflies on the windscreen. Her skin likes the feeling of not being watched. Her chest likes the feeling of being welded shut.
did you take 'em for it? every penny that you could?
daylight spills out and the car keeps moving, will not stop until elena gilbert is a ghost and she's just - whoever the fuck she is without the name and face slowing her down. roads split off into highways and back into backstreets and no one pulls ahead - no one dares. a cop sidles up beside her and she puts her mouth to his wrist and makes him forget his own name. wind flies through the smashed window, feels like kisses to her neck.
some city - any city - unfolds, greyscale and airless. a girl in purple and black like a bruise sits on the curb; tangled hair spilling over her shoulders, her jeans ripped at the knees. her knees are bent, feet spread in the road. her back is stretched on the ground, head pillowed in the yellowing suburban grass, a notebook open over her face.
elena stops the car.
"hey, you going anywhere?"
the girl sits up, the book falling shut in her lap. her eyes are black-rimmed and wild.
"nowhere, actually, but i can be persuaded otherwise."
she smiles like she knows all of elena's secrets - and couldn't care less. elena brushes the glass off the passenger side and leans over to open the door.
"i'm dawn", the girl smiles, wraps her fingers around the silver cross at her throat.
"elena", she smiles back.
dawn leans back like she's found something like a home, feet settled just above the dashboard. "let's go be monsters."
elena starts the car.
morning shines it all away
doctor who
rose/lady!doctor
pg
(slow dancing in a burning room)
(au timeline where 1x02 happens like three months later and involves less peril)
when they were sixteen, lauren jackson from two doors down would always light a cig and lean out of rose's bedroom window, the pink lace of her underwear peeking out under the edge of her jean-shorts. she would lean out the window, blow smoke in a plume towards the sky and say she wanted to watch the world burn.
rose never quite got it - not when lauren stole her first kiss to "practise", or when she'd slide into rose's bed when her dad had come back drunk and vicious. not even when she knocked out billy nathan for calling rose a slag. rose never hungered much for destruction - violence, maybe, pain even. but not something so mindless.
and yet there was the world, burning up in front of her, and nothing had ever looked so breathtaking.
that could mean a lot of things, though. because sixteen year old rose never ran away far enough to loose sight of the Powell Estate block looming over the horizon. sixteen year old rose never fell into anyone's arms and expected them to catch her.
nineteen year old rose is here, sat on the edge of a bombsite, watching the world melt into the sun.
the doctor's arms slide around her waist and press low against her belly where the butterflies blossom.
"are we sad, rose tyler?" she can hear the pout there, curling around the words.
"i'm something - dunno. nostalgic maybe? that down there - that's what a trillion lifetimes? and they're just poofing away into nothing." she leans back into the doctor, pressing up against her front, long dark curls tangling with the blonde.
the doctor props her chin on the crown of rose's head and starts humming, the song low under her breath.
"is that britney spears?" she smiles with her teeth, can't help it.
the doctor sways them both to the melody; "ancient classic."
rose laughs and drifts on the sound, the feel of a body holding her up and moving with her, catching her and running alongside.
"doctor? can you tell me about something - i dunno. something that makes you catch your breath just to think about. something happy."
a lot of her memories run together these days. timelines and foreign life and waking up a thousand worlds away from her tangled bedsheets, grey from overwashing. she'd like to remember something wonderful; it doesn't have to be hers.
the doctor makes a tutting sound and slides round to rose's front. her sharp, odd features filling up the space between destruction and rose herself. "just imagine a pair of feet, in cheap primark plimsoles tip-toeing onto the tardis with no intention of pressing back into the ground. a girl with big eyes that ache to see whatever the universe has to offer. that's what makes me catch my breath."
lauren always wanted to see the world burn because it owed her that much. rose just wants to see it - all of it; destruction and all. she leans forward, just slightly, her weight balanced on the tips of her toes and brushes her lips against the doctor's.
she pulls back before there's a space to breathe and tangles their fingers together.
"i've seen the end of the world, now." she whispers, pressing her face into the doctor's neck. "show me the start of one."
the doctor squeezes rose's hand and spins her around. "as you wish."
this is a hymn
the 100
raven
teen
(Everything about my heart is a crime scene.)
she will not pick flowers
she will not pick flowers from the ground or let dirt cake under her fingernails. she will not mourn what she refuses to forget.
when your mother dies you go on knowing that is the order of things.
when your friends die you will go on in the memory of them.
she will not sit by a gravesite, or tend to her wounds.
she will not sit by a gravesite because none will be erected. she will not tend to her wounds because she cannot reach inside herself to line her ribs with novocaine. and fights will go on without her and friends will fall beside her and mostly she will try not to care. she will not sleep for weeks, alone or in company.
when your lover dies, your heart will quiver until it finds a new rhythm.
when your soul dies, your body will go on without it - and if you're good enough, no one will know the difference.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2015-05-21 03:53 am (UTC)Gabrielle
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Date: 2015-05-21 12:18 pm (UTC)Wonderful work, my dear!
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Date: 2015-05-21 08:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-05-21 08:39 pm (UTC)tysm!!