Log in

No account? Create an account

Previous Entry | Next Entry

Prompt: Any, Any,

I took it all for granted
But how was I to know
That you'd be letting go

Now it cuts like a knife

Written: June 15, 2016

i held you so tightly
i thought we would never let go

and i know now, years and years on,
only my fingers clung

once we were
once we were something
once i promised forever

my words alone
filled the air

i held on so tightly
my fingers ached
my heart aches now

i held on

and you
in the midnight air
the coldest night of the year

you looked me in the eye
said you were tired of
being held so tight

my fingers ached from my grip
my heart aches

i alone held on

and you
you cut me loose
said we had never been
what i thought

was i blind?
was i deaf?
how did i not see
how did i not hear

i held you so tightly

and you let go
you turned away
we were never what i thought
that's all you had to say

years and years on
i still ache
years and years on
i wonder
years and years on
i think of how i held
so tightly to someone
i didn't even know

Title: love like a knife
Fandom: Highlander
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: references to violence
Pairings: Kronos/Methos
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 200
Point of view: third
Prompt: Any, Any, Our love is like a knife, it cuts both ways

"Brother," Kronos proclaims once, standing on a battlefield, "the world is ours. What would you have me do with it?"

Methos laughs, glancing toward the endless horizon, already knowing that Kronos' ambition would be the death of him. "You are a god, Brother," he says, carefully keeping his tone awed instead of mocking. "Do with the world what you will."

Kronos smiles, as ever sure of their eventual conquest, and goes to order Caspian and Silas to begin counting their spoils.

Methos watches, already knowing how it will end, because even if he does want Kronos, to possess and control him, to have all of his attention—he wants to live far more.

(In more millennia than even he could've counted, once, Methos watches Kronos pace around as he plots, and he thinks, oh, Brother, I let you live once.

He still wants Kronos, will always want Kronos. To have the weight of his attention, to have the fire at his beck and call. But fire burns and Methos is not young anymore, to dare think Kronos' ambition can be managed.

I let you live once,, he thinks, and he knows that Kronos has ever misunderstood just what that meant.)

Title: untitled
Fandom: DCU
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: mentions of canon character death
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 230
Point of view: third
Prompt: DCU, Dick Grayson, learning to fly

He's never not known the air. In his earliest memory, Mama tosses him to Daddy and they're all laughing. He was never once afraid to fall.


When Bruce brings him home, he finds his way to the tallest spot he can and looks down. He always knew that Mama and Daddy would catch him but they're gone now. There's no one to catch him.

His parents fell.

"Dick," Bruce says softly from behind him. "Come away from the window."

He takes a deep breath and steps back, turns to look at the man who said he wasn't going to be Dick's father but would take care of him now.

"I know that you might be frightened of the air now," Bruce says almost more gently than Dick can stand. He's not a baby. "But I can teach you how to fly, if you like."

"I know how to fly," Dick shoots back, glaring up at him.

"Well then," Bruce says with a small smile. "I can show you a new way, if you're willing to learn."

Dick glances back towards the window, listens to the wind howling outside.

"Okay," he agrees. He knows his parents would want him to get back into the air, wouldn't want him to give in to fear.

"Good," Bruce says, smile widening. "Now, let's head to dinner. Alfred's waiting."

"Okay," Dick repeats and follows him down.

Title: untitled
Fandom: Animorphs
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: canon character death
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 125
Point of view: thrd
Prompt: Animorphs, Naomi & Rachel (post 53),

Well the hardest part,
Yeah it hurts so bad,
is when she spreads her wings,
but it'd be a selfish thing,
to try and hold her back,
but it don't work like that.

You just gotta watch it fly.
Stand there on the side line.
Wanna swallow up your pride.
Know it's gonna be alright.
Wishing when I close your eyes
like a kiss goodbye...

(Kiss Goodbye - Little Big Town)

"Oh, baby girl," she whispers at the memorial on what would've been Rachel's twentieth birthday. Jordan's older than Rachel was when she died. Sarah's the same age. "Oh, my sweet little girl."

She traces Rachel's name, the dates. "I'm proud of you, baby," she murmurs, leaning down to kiss the letters. "I'm so proud of you."

They're all so proud of Rachel but any one of them would give anything to have her back. Intellectually, Naomi knows why Jake made the decision he did, knows that it came down to Rachel's choice. But she hasn't been able to look at her nephew since the memorial service. She knows Jordan hasn't spoken to him, but Sarah emails him sometimes.

"I love you, Rachel," she says and steps away.

Selkie wife folktale
Warnings: references to dub-con at best, marital rape at worst; character death

Prompt: any fairytale, Prince Charming/any, "Hunter" by Dido

If you were a king up there on your throne
Would you be wise enough to let me go
For this queen you think you own
Wants to be a hunter again

Written June 17, 2016

Once, so the story goes,
there was a prince wandering along a forgotten shore,
seeking shells and precious stones.
He was a collector, you see,
and what he found he’d not gone looking for.
Does this pardon him for what came next?
Well, even now, that’s fiercely debated
among scholars and historians.
But that is not important for this tale.
For this tale, we need only know
that he found what none had seen before.
Does it excuse him?
We won’t bother we that.


This prince, handsome and charming,
beloved the realm over for his candor and his grace—
if he’d known, some of us ask,
would he have done the same?
No matter.
What’s done is done.
And he, our graceful prince,
as he walked along the shore
without his courtiers, without his guards,
he found a luxurious skin
whose like he’d never felt before.
And so he, our young prince,
he examined it and then,
our sad prince,
he brought it home.
Without telling a soul,
he brought it home.


Oh, our long-gone prince,
if you had known—
alas, my dear, he didn’t know.


Not long after he hid the skin
in his elegant rooms
(how did a servant not find it?
did they and not tell?
had they but told—
but as far as is known,
no one knew.),
a woman came to court.
Dark of hair and dark of eyes,
dressed in finery not seen in years,
well-spoken and straight-spined,
she asked for an audience with the prince.
It was granted, of course.
He was gracious, our prince.


The woman spoke of a lost treasure,
stolen while she innocently bathed,
and demanded of the prince what he would do
with such a brazen, disrespectful thief.
Our prince spoke valiantly of honor and nobility,
and the woman smiled, lips red as blood.
She thanked the prince for his time,
curtsied gracefully, and turned to leave—
oh, if only the prince had not risen from his throne!
If only the prince, that sunny day,
had let the woman go.


But the tale must be told true.
The prince asked her to dine with him.
Asked her for her story,
asked her for her name.
And the more she spoke,
the more he fell in love.
(was it in love he fell?
or in lust?
oh, for princes, I fear, they are
one and the same.)
And finally, as the meal came to a close,
the prince asked what the thief had stolen.


He was a good man, our prince.
So all have said from the time he was a boy.
He was such a good man.
So why, some wonder,
did he not return the skin he found
when this woman said it was hers?
Was it because of her beauty?
Because he had fallen in love
over the course of a meal?


A week later, the prince’s betrothal was announced.
How did he convince his father? His mother?
All the nobles whose daughters could now not be queen?
Was it the woman’s demand or the prince’s?
Oh, that is a question with an answer no one knows.
The woman smiled, or so was reported,
whenever she was seen in public.
Never once, though, it is recorded
did our future queen visit the palace by the shore.


Our king died not long after his son wedded
the dark-eyed, dark-haired woman
whose history no one knew.
Stories were told, questions were asked,
but it was said how the prince loved her so
and so it was done.
But our king died and his son,
our kind-hearted prince, ascended.


Remember, my dear, I am telling you only what I know.
Could she not find the skin, our queen?
Did she not try?
Had our lovely prince-turned-king threatened her into staying?
I have my own belief, of course, but I shan’t sway you.
Let me finish the tale and decide for yourself.


Our queen was gracious, our queen was kind,
our queen walked among the commoners with ease;
but never, it seemed, did she spend time with the nobility.
She would sit quietly beside our king during judgements, smiling.
She would speak with minstrels, with artisans—
she commissioned portraits of the ocean,
had minstrels sing all the songs of the sea they knew.
Why then, did she never visit the palace by the shore?


They had a daughter, then a son.
The kingdom rejoiced.
The queen smiled but the light in her eyes dimmed.


He was a good man, our king.
So the stories tell.
Our tale reaches it close with this:
there was a fire.
Both the prince and princess were saved.
Our king… he was found
but it was not the fire that killed him.
And our queen?
Our well-spoken and straight-spined queen?
She vanished.


However, whenever the prince and princess
(who were raised by their grandmother,
who became regent for the prince)
spent time at the palace at the shore
and went walking along the water,
so it is said,
a woman would come from the sea,
would walk with them and sing,
and kiss them goodbye before sinking back into the waves.


So tell me, my dear,
what do you believe?
History says our king was a good man.
But there are some who wish
history were told another way.
Scholars and historians debate to this day.
I’ve told you only what I know.


( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
Jul. 20th, 2016 12:51 pm (UTC)
*sigh* Sometimes being Methos must be hard, even with all the time and wisdom and patience there. :-/
Jul. 20th, 2016 08:18 pm (UTC)

*hee* Yeah, poor Methos. Thanks for reading!
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )


king of the jungle
questioning in order to create

Latest Month

June 2018


Page Summary

Powered by LiveJournal.com
Designed by Tiffany Chow