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brigdhStealing a meme from ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
egelantier, because I really enjoyed it last year when I did this: I randomised 10 songs and chose lyrics from each - your job is to pick a number and a character (or ship) (or friendship) (or assortment of characters) and receive a ficlet!
1.But in her heart a cold December (Thomas Morley: April Is In My Mistress's Face) Fill: Sita from the Ramayana for lynndyre
2. Tomorrow we start again / Tomorrow came and went (Matthew Good Band: Indestructible)
3.Hundred shots through the dark you can never hit my heart (J. Cole: New York Times)
4.You say, 'We'll go where nobody knows, guns hidden under our petticoats' (The 1975: Chocolate) Fill: Minou/Chloe for withinadream27
5.Soft winds blowing through the pinewood trees / Folks down there like a life of ease (Louis Armstrong: When It's Sleepy Time Down South)
6.Soon as they like you make 'em unlike you / Cause kissing people ass is so unlike you (Kanye West: I Am A God)* Fill 1: Buffy/Faith for lavode, Fill 2: Lydia from Untamed for court_of_ocelot
7.We will bear this together / We will wear this together (Thea Gilmore: Instead of My Saints) Fill 1: Goblin Emperor for egelantier, Fill 2: Ichabod/Abbie for shes_unreal
8.I drove to New York / In a van with my friend / We slept in parking lots / I don't mind, I don't mind(Sufjan Stevens: Chicago) Fill: Hakkai/Gojyo for veleda_k
9.Darkness, darkness bind him to me / Hide him in your velvet cloak (Richard Shindell: Fenario) Fill: Michael Godwin for just_ann_now
10.The warning signs have all been bright and garish / Far too great in number to ignore (The Mountain Goats: Old College Try) Fill: Peter/Nightingale for dipping_sauce
*I really had to resist the urge to use the line "Hurry up with my damn croissants"
egelantier, because I really enjoyed it last year when I did this: I randomised 10 songs and chose lyrics from each - your job is to pick a number and a character (or ship) (or friendship) (or assortment of characters) and receive a ficlet!1.
lynndyre2. Tomorrow we start again / Tomorrow came and went (Matthew Good Band: Indestructible)
3.
4.
withinadream275.
6.
lavode, Fill 2: Lydia from Untamed for court_of_ocelot7.
egelantier, Fill 2: Ichabod/Abbie for shes_unreal8.
veleda_k9.
just_ann_now10.
dipping_sauce*I really had to resist the urge to use the line "Hurry up with my damn croissants"
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no subject
Date: 2015-01-16 07:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-23 10:33 pm (UTC)When Peter wakes up, Nightingale is sitting beside the bed. This is disorienting, until he realizes it isn’t his room. The cheap sheets, the white walls, the faint medicinal odor: it’s a hospital.
He’s still considering what that means when Nightingale takes his hand. Neither of them speaks. Peter’s can’t: throat tight, chest aching. He squeezes Nightingale’s fingers in return, and Nightingale sits back with a look of – relief, probably. Gratitude at not having to train a new apprentice. That’s all.
Somewhere an alarm goes off, and Peter takes a breath, shakes off his thoughts, and finds something to say.
no subject
Date: 2015-01-24 06:25 pm (UTC)Aww! Oh, Peter!
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Date: 2015-01-24 10:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-16 08:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-20 12:35 am (UTC)Another night with no inn nearby, no monastery, not even an inhabitable barn. Predictably, Sanzo sulked (“If you bastards hadn’t overslept...”) and Goku whined (“But what will we eat?”).
“I believe it’s your turn, Gojyo,” Hakkai said. “Will you complain about the lack of women, or of alcohol?”
“Neither.”
Hakkai felt genuine surprise, but he merely asked politely, “Oh?”
Gojyo shrugged. “I’ve gotten used to this. Wouldn’t know what to do with myself anywhere else.” He stuck a cigarette in his mouth, muffling his voice. “What about you?”
Hakkai allowed his smile to soften. “I suppose I feel the same.”
no subject
Date: 2015-01-20 07:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-20 09:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-22 12:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-22 06:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-16 08:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-16 09:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-20 10:45 pm (UTC)Michael knew how to behave appropriately when parting from a lover on the morning after: how to sigh, how to drag his feet, how to swear that it was still early – and later, the right poetry for a letter that balanced delicately between reluctance and desire. And eventually, of course, how to break things off.
Diane too did everything right, but for once he didn’t appreciate her good taste. It drove him crazy, knowing that her actions were evidence of practice and not of passion. He loved her, he meant every word – and she smiled coolly and put him aside.
no subject
Date: 2015-01-20 10:51 pm (UTC)Oh, yes, he's so very practiced at that! The imp.
He loved her, he meant every word – and she smiled coolly and put him aside.
Oooh, that's interesting - I suppose for as long as they were lovers, he should have know that it wouldn't last (but what if it did? What if he was Diane's last lover? Oooh) so, how painful and humiliating this must have eventually been. (MAYBE)
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Date: 2015-01-21 06:19 pm (UTC)At first I thought I'd write this about Micheal's wife, since they do seem to be genuinely, happily in love in TPotS, but I suppose I was in more of a tragic mood! :D And I do think he was a little deluded regarding his relationship with Diane, but how could he not have been? It is sad.
no subject
Date: 2015-01-16 10:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-22 08:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-22 09:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-22 09:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-16 10:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-29 04:40 am (UTC)After the fighting and confusion had ended, Dominique noticed Chloë’s hands were streaked with gray: gunpowder. She drew a quick breath, then said lightly, “Oh, darling! Let me get that for you.”
Chloë wordlessly held out her hands, as if it meant nothing to her to be touched by her husband’s plaçée, by a stranger, by a colored woman. Dominique concentrated on cleaning the gunpowder, and tried to think of only that. “Thank you for teaching me to shoot,” Chloë said, her voice low and precise. “I never had before.”
“Well, of course! Why wouldn’t I?”
“Many people wouldn’t have. It isn’t considered proper, and that matters very much, sometimes.”
“Proper is a matter of circumstance. Besides, dearest, no one can judge you if they don’t know. All you have to do is not tell them.”
Chloë met her eyes. “Not even Henri?”
“If you like,” Dominique said, feeling greatly daring. Though Henri’s presence gave weight to their smallest interaction, they hadn’t yet spoken of him. She still held Chloë’s hands, but it was the sound of his name that felt strangely intimate. To her surprise, Dominique liked the thought of sharing a secret with this woman. “Not even Henri.”
no subject
Date: 2015-01-30 09:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-30 09:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-17 12:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-20 09:35 pm (UTC)She didn’t feel the heat. The light, yes – she closed her eyes, but that only gave a red tinge to the yellow edges of the flames, made the conflagration’s white heart a bloody pink. Air gusted hard against her skin, ruffling her hair; it should have singed, should have been like the rush of heat from an oven, but all she felt was a cool spring breeze.
Sita lifted her chin to watch the sparks spiraling up all around her, flickering against the sky like stars. Her anger, dishonor, and humiliation burned away, and she stood alone in their ashes.
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Date: 2015-01-20 10:52 pm (UTC)WOW.
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Date: 2015-01-21 06:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-21 02:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-21 06:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-17 04:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-22 11:35 pm (UTC)Ichabod grew up with elaborate fashions, particularly for women. Excess was the ideal: ruffles of delicate lace, tall wigs, flounces and ribbons everywhere. And beneath that were even more layers: petticoats, panniers, stays, a chemise. From necessity, women moved slowly and carefully, inhibited from revealing their true abilities.
Abigail's clothing is practical. Boots, close-fitting trousers, perhaps a jacket if the weather requires it – and that is all. He’d first appreciated her freedom of movement, but of late he has noticed other virtues to the modern style.
All beauty isn’t rococo. He is beginning to see elegance in her simplicity.
no subject
Date: 2015-01-17 08:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-21 11:06 pm (UTC)The emperor fidgeted as he was dressed. Nemer pretended not to notice, but when the emperor readjusted his collar for the third time, he had to ask: “Does Your Serenity not approve of this jacket?”
“It’s fine. We understand that the emperor must be properly attired.”
“Yes. But... Your Serenity has many proper jackets with lower collars.” Nemer knew that he shouldn’t smile, but couldn’t quite stop himself.
For a moment the emperor sat like a statue, his face still. Then he met Nemer’s eyes and, very slightly, his mouth curved up. “Well,” he said. “As long as it’s proper.”
no subject
Date: 2015-01-22 12:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-22 06:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-17 11:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-21 09:56 pm (UTC)Faith dances close, closer than Buffy is used to. The music’s beat pounds in her ears, slower than her pulse; it’s too loud to hear anything else, though she can see Faith’s mouth move. Buffy’s hands itch; she makes fists, relaxes, then does it again. Faith leans in closer. Her loose hair touches Buffy’s sweaty cheek, catches. Buffy turns toward her and their lips brush –
– and Faith spins away. Her mouth curves into a smirk; her gaze is an angry challenge.
Buffy’s throat closes, but she keeps her chin up, her eyes dry. She doesn’t try to kiss Faith again.
no subject
Date: 2015-01-22 08:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-22 08:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-23 01:00 am (UTC)And do steal the meme! I want to request stuff from you, too.
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Date: 2015-01-19 03:21 pm (UTC)(I can totally see Jude demanding his damn croissants, too.)
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Date: 2015-01-31 03:01 am (UTC)Lydia cut her hair. She was disappointed that it didn’t return to the dandelion fluff of her childhood, but even like this people weren’t distracted by her perfect golden surface. They had to meet her eyes.
BenRuin – James – brushed a stray curl off her cheek. She remembered how to smile to keep him away, to make his hand on her face mean nothing; she chose not to. She felt his warmth, how it made her pulse quicken, and then its absence when he drew back. There was life still there, beneath her skin. Lydia could live with her hair down.