fics: just my kind of awful (p2)
May. 21st, 2015 02:44 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
clockwork_hart1continuation of the ficathon fics!
swan song
btvs
dawn
teen
(for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lynzie914 they gave you life, and in return you gave them hell)
this is your first life and you don't have a name. you are a feeling, tangled and green. you are chaos shaped like calamity.
this is your first life and they carve out a body. you are a girl in every sense of the word, every short skirt and scraped back hair, every bad idea and drop of blood.
(girls are something other. you will work this out when you peek through bedroom curtains in lost games of hide and seek. you will see flashes of underwear when janice spills her books across the floor. you will see the tops of milky-white thighs when you first read narnia and you will sleep with susan's name on your tongue. girls are something other and you will ache for them more than ache to be one.)
this is your first life and you are a baby. you are the little thing dragging on your sister's coattails and wrapped up in your mother's arms. you are an innocent shine in your second family's eye. you are also none of these things - when you chose not to be.
this is your first life and you are a victim. you are the weakness shaped from love and man-made obligation, and you will suffer for it. you are a by-product of the superhero, you are your sister's Gwen Stacy and you will hate every second of it. you will outgrow this.
this is your first life and you are a weapon. you will break the minds of gods and monsters and you will bleed yourself dry. you will live through it.
(you will live through most things. others will not. death will stalk your heart like a hound to a fox. you will carve holes in yourself to fit the ghosts and never find yourself absent of space. this will be out of your control.)
this is your first life and you are a watcher. your eyes are a spyglass and your mind is a universe, ever expanding to fill with more stars. you will absorb the secrets of every life you touch and you will scar with it, and it will be worth it.
this is your first life and you are a knight. you will slice your way from the darkness and violence will not quench your thirst, but you will do it anyway.
this is your first life and you are a murderer. your smile will slit the throats of boys and your fingers will crumble girls to dust. you will be too young to understand, and you will kill with pale-pink lipgloss.
(you will murder in thigh-high socks and ripped denim shorts. you will stab through hearts in spiky stilettos. it will be a mercy killing.)
this is your first life and you have a pen.
go write your happy ending.
these are your thorns
tvd/to
rebekah/klaus(/stefan)
mature/explicit (bloodplay, originalcest, threesomes, murder and other shenanigans)
(forlynzie914 hey sister, do you still believe in love i wonder?)
no boy will kiss her and leave scars on her lips. this is their first mistake.
elijah will press them to her forehead, his mouth closed, his fangs drawn. his hand will linger on her wrist and bruise the bone and this will be the closest she will get.
klaus will break the spine of every boy she kisses, so she finds as many as she can devour and feeds deep.
she will swathe herself in white.
it is a funeral for the wedding she will never have.
she will dance with boys too young and too fragile. she will fuck them on goose-down pillows and atop flower beds. she will tuck them into coffins like children into bed.
klaus will catch her eyes over the hymnal and he will smile, dark and deep.
she will wake up with a hole in her chest and her brother's mouth on her lips. he tastes like blood and vengeance, and she licks out every drop she can take.
finn will smile fondly and say her love must be a curse. elijah will twine their fingers as if to say, it's not your curse, it's our brother's jealousy
she will press her mouth to his and he will kiss back, soft and final. she will not try again.
the first wolf will press her back into the dirt, spread her legs and lick deep inside. he will fuck her until her legs are weak and her bones feel like they may shake apart. she will come with a howl stuck in her throat that belongs to neither her nor him.
she will wake up the next morning with a wolf fur rug, and she will not talk during dinner.
marcel will love her. he will be the first she can be sure of, and she will love him selfishly.
she will love him like his touch is made of fire and she won't mind being set aflame.
she will wake up with a hole in her chest and her brother's mouth on her lips. she will bite him deep enough to bleed.
she will abstain.
she will shorten her dresses and she will show off her skin. she will dance like the music is stick inside her and needs to shake its way out. she will not touch any man, though they still touch her.
bodies will pile up in riverbeds and half will be by her hand.
she will follow him into the dark. she will take his hand and run into the night. she will bring bodies to his door like a dog with a rabbit and he will smile like she has brought him the sky. they will share a boy between them until their mouths meet at his throat.
stefan will wander into their trail of destruction. he will be vicious and he will be monstrous and he will be the best parts of them made flesh. klaus's heart will weaken to him before hers does, but she will be the one to taste his insides.
they will fall into a shadow somewhere, into a hotel with choclates on the pillows and champagne in buckets of ice beside the bed. she will press him into the mattress and ride him until she can't think but for the sounds of her breath and the points at which they connect. klaus will watch from the chair. he will kiss her neck when she bites into stefan's then he will roll her to the side for a taste himself.
he will not cover her bitemarks with his own.
she will fall in love with stefan's soul before his dark, but she will keep him for the bruises he leaves behind.
klaus will fade from her immediate attention and she from his.
stefan will pick a side, and he will pick hers.
she doesn't wake up for a terribly long time.
klaus will call her sister like he means lover, yet he will never take from her what he so desperately craves.
she will be angry and she will tear into his throat with her teeth and kiss his lips bloody. she will hold him down and take every sordid tumble and ruined fuck back for herself.
he will smile up at her and kiss her hand when she is done, roll her over and press his mouth to her ear.
"no one could love you like i, sister-dear. you're far too ruined for that."
she will say the same of him.
tread the sky
btvs
dawn
pg
(forkwritten at a totally different ficathon, i think; So I perversely circle the late stars, drowsier and drowsier, sleepily longing for something.)
And she won’t remember the times when her thighs weren’t stained yellow-white by moonlight, starlight (not sun), when it fell in through the curtained windows and darkness danced so daringly outside.
No one had to hear the stories she would tell herself about those stars framed up in the sky, burning bright-hot and looking so cold. She would circle those stars, constellations drawn on her skin in felt-tipped pens, hoping one would fall into her palm and burn her up and away.
No one would hear the stories of star-walkers, treading light across the darkness that nestled so close to her sleeplessness, of the palms outstretched to take her away.
No one would hear those things because they weren’t there to listen - since daylight glinted off the casket corners and heated graveyard dirt, since everybody walked from the gravesite and never walked back.
Not when the universe opened up under her skin and the blood dripped real and wine red into the carpet. Not when the dark would creep up her legs, sweep her off her feet and waltz her away.
And she won’t remember a time when the sun ran its lips across her skin, because now she has no skin to speak of. Just cold heart, the stars, and the dark.
swan song
btvs
dawn
teen
(for
lynzie914 they gave you life, and in return you gave them hell)this is your first life and you don't have a name. you are a feeling, tangled and green. you are chaos shaped like calamity.
this is your first life and they carve out a body. you are a girl in every sense of the word, every short skirt and scraped back hair, every bad idea and drop of blood.
(girls are something other. you will work this out when you peek through bedroom curtains in lost games of hide and seek. you will see flashes of underwear when janice spills her books across the floor. you will see the tops of milky-white thighs when you first read narnia and you will sleep with susan's name on your tongue. girls are something other and you will ache for them more than ache to be one.)
this is your first life and you are a baby. you are the little thing dragging on your sister's coattails and wrapped up in your mother's arms. you are an innocent shine in your second family's eye. you are also none of these things - when you chose not to be.
this is your first life and you are a victim. you are the weakness shaped from love and man-made obligation, and you will suffer for it. you are a by-product of the superhero, you are your sister's Gwen Stacy and you will hate every second of it. you will outgrow this.
this is your first life and you are a weapon. you will break the minds of gods and monsters and you will bleed yourself dry. you will live through it.
(you will live through most things. others will not. death will stalk your heart like a hound to a fox. you will carve holes in yourself to fit the ghosts and never find yourself absent of space. this will be out of your control.)
this is your first life and you are a watcher. your eyes are a spyglass and your mind is a universe, ever expanding to fill with more stars. you will absorb the secrets of every life you touch and you will scar with it, and it will be worth it.
this is your first life and you are a knight. you will slice your way from the darkness and violence will not quench your thirst, but you will do it anyway.
this is your first life and you are a murderer. your smile will slit the throats of boys and your fingers will crumble girls to dust. you will be too young to understand, and you will kill with pale-pink lipgloss.
(you will murder in thigh-high socks and ripped denim shorts. you will stab through hearts in spiky stilettos. it will be a mercy killing.)
this is your first life and you have a pen.
go write your happy ending.
these are your thorns
tvd/to
rebekah/klaus(/stefan)
mature/explicit (bloodplay, originalcest, threesomes, murder and other shenanigans)
(for
lynzie914 hey sister, do you still believe in love i wonder?)no boy will kiss her and leave scars on her lips. this is their first mistake.
elijah will press them to her forehead, his mouth closed, his fangs drawn. his hand will linger on her wrist and bruise the bone and this will be the closest she will get.
klaus will break the spine of every boy she kisses, so she finds as many as she can devour and feeds deep.
she will swathe herself in white.
it is a funeral for the wedding she will never have.
she will dance with boys too young and too fragile. she will fuck them on goose-down pillows and atop flower beds. she will tuck them into coffins like children into bed.
klaus will catch her eyes over the hymnal and he will smile, dark and deep.
she will wake up with a hole in her chest and her brother's mouth on her lips. he tastes like blood and vengeance, and she licks out every drop she can take.
finn will smile fondly and say her love must be a curse. elijah will twine their fingers as if to say, it's not your curse, it's our brother's jealousy
she will press her mouth to his and he will kiss back, soft and final. she will not try again.
the first wolf will press her back into the dirt, spread her legs and lick deep inside. he will fuck her until her legs are weak and her bones feel like they may shake apart. she will come with a howl stuck in her throat that belongs to neither her nor him.
she will wake up the next morning with a wolf fur rug, and she will not talk during dinner.
marcel will love her. he will be the first she can be sure of, and she will love him selfishly.
she will love him like his touch is made of fire and she won't mind being set aflame.
she will wake up with a hole in her chest and her brother's mouth on her lips. she will bite him deep enough to bleed.
she will abstain.
she will shorten her dresses and she will show off her skin. she will dance like the music is stick inside her and needs to shake its way out. she will not touch any man, though they still touch her.
bodies will pile up in riverbeds and half will be by her hand.
she will follow him into the dark. she will take his hand and run into the night. she will bring bodies to his door like a dog with a rabbit and he will smile like she has brought him the sky. they will share a boy between them until their mouths meet at his throat.
stefan will wander into their trail of destruction. he will be vicious and he will be monstrous and he will be the best parts of them made flesh. klaus's heart will weaken to him before hers does, but she will be the one to taste his insides.
they will fall into a shadow somewhere, into a hotel with choclates on the pillows and champagne in buckets of ice beside the bed. she will press him into the mattress and ride him until she can't think but for the sounds of her breath and the points at which they connect. klaus will watch from the chair. he will kiss her neck when she bites into stefan's then he will roll her to the side for a taste himself.
he will not cover her bitemarks with his own.
she will fall in love with stefan's soul before his dark, but she will keep him for the bruises he leaves behind.
klaus will fade from her immediate attention and she from his.
stefan will pick a side, and he will pick hers.
she doesn't wake up for a terribly long time.
klaus will call her sister like he means lover, yet he will never take from her what he so desperately craves.
she will be angry and she will tear into his throat with her teeth and kiss his lips bloody. she will hold him down and take every sordid tumble and ruined fuck back for herself.
he will smile up at her and kiss her hand when she is done, roll her over and press his mouth to her ear.
"no one could love you like i, sister-dear. you're far too ruined for that."
she will say the same of him.
tread the sky
btvs
dawn
pg
(for
kwritten at a totally different ficathon, i think; So I perversely circle the late stars, drowsier and drowsier, sleepily longing for something.)And she won’t remember the times when her thighs weren’t stained yellow-white by moonlight, starlight (not sun), when it fell in through the curtained windows and darkness danced so daringly outside.
No one had to hear the stories she would tell herself about those stars framed up in the sky, burning bright-hot and looking so cold. She would circle those stars, constellations drawn on her skin in felt-tipped pens, hoping one would fall into her palm and burn her up and away.
No one would hear the stories of star-walkers, treading light across the darkness that nestled so close to her sleeplessness, of the palms outstretched to take her away.
No one would hear those things because they weren’t there to listen - since daylight glinted off the casket corners and heated graveyard dirt, since everybody walked from the gravesite and never walked back.
Not when the universe opened up under her skin and the blood dripped real and wine red into the carpet. Not when the dark would creep up her legs, sweep her off her feet and waltz her away.
And she won’t remember a time when the sun ran its lips across her skin, because now she has no skin to speak of. Just cold heart, the stars, and the dark.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2015-05-21 03:59 am (UTC)My
God
There is something magical about what you do with words. It takes the breath from the lungs and the beat from the heart and turns blood into ice, shivering with pain and ecstasy. You are... you simply are.
Gabrielle
no subject
Date: 2015-05-21 08:35 pm (UTC)i wasn't expecting this comment at all and i - i really don't know what to say. This is possibly the best, and certainly the most eloquent and poetic, comment i have ever gotten and i just. i'm on the verge of tears - thank you, gabrielle. thank you so much.
no subject
Date: 2015-05-26 11:21 pm (UTC)May I quote this and say "THIS" ? Because I can't express my feelings better than you already have. Both Dawn stories are wonderful but the first one - oh my, the first one:
you will stab through the hearts in spikey stilletos. It will be a mercy killing."
The language here is just so incredibly rich, so evocative.
no subject
Date: 2015-06-08 07:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-06-09 01:58 am (UTC)What does tysm mean?
no subject
Date: 2015-06-18 11:00 pm (UTC)tysm - thank you so much (which you've probably looked up or asked someone else by now, I realise, sorry again!!)
no subject
Date: 2015-06-19 02:56 am (UTC)Nope I didn't actually, I'm too lazy!
no subject
Date: 2015-05-21 12:30 pm (UTC)The first Dawn story might be my favorite though. I love the repetition of "this is your first life." I also love the reference to Dawn being Qwen Stacy to her sister's Spiderman.
no subject
Date: 2015-05-21 08:45 pm (UTC)i love dumb superhero parallels you have no idea. i will try and slip comic references into everything i can.
i'm so glad you liked these!!!! <3
no subject
Date: 2015-05-26 11:24 pm (UTC)It's as gorgeously evocative and mysterious, fragmented, as your writing - it and the new layout are a site that is finally worthy of your work. Brava, Lucy, it's simply beyond gorgeous!
no subject
Date: 2015-06-08 07:18 pm (UTC)I'm super glad you like it sweetie, god knows I do!! <3
no subject
Date: 2015-06-08 11:59 pm (UTC)VERY much so - and also simple, visually "clean", and more contemporary-looking than the old set-up. IOW, more fitting to your artwork and to you, as well as easier on the eyes.
I recognize that image of Michelle in the top banner (which truly is a thing of rare beauty), as part of a studio shoot that I've never gotten around to playing with yet but want to someday. I can't imagine I'd come close to your lovely art though.
no subject
Date: 2015-06-18 11:07 pm (UTC)I'm honestly having trouble replicating this feel on my wordpress site now, because the templates don't leave much option for customisation (and as far as I can tell the html is inaccessible unless you have a paid site? but maybe I'm just navigating wrong IDK) and I just. I don't feel it yet. Working on it.
I adore that photoshoot of michelle it's one of my fav set of images to come back to (out of anything, including model shots and stock images) - she's just so photogenic and the shots are so lovely and there's just such a depth of feeling there. I just. I love.
I can't imagine I'd come close to your lovely art though.
PUH-LEASE. you have such a wonderful artist's eye, sweetie, and you work and work at something lest it get the better of you (something I can't claim of myself), honestly most of what I end up with are happy accidents. (Not that I'm complaining at all.)