runetraverse

Hospital Interlude (1/1)

2009-08-19T22:20:19Z

Name: Hospital Interlude (aka Stairwell-Sex)
Fandom / Pairing: Original, F/F (duh)
Rating: Mature, +18 - there be sexin's, people.
Summary: Dr. Nicoles' crappy night is suddenly getting a whole lot better.
A/N: One of two small, oneshot PWPs inspired by the fantastic Lee, aka Tomboy4equality. You rock, m'luv!

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When Kate Nicoles had stomped into the stairwell, she wasn’t exactly expecting to be kissed. It had been a pretty fucked-up night so far, all things considered. First had been the freeway pile-up at the start of her shift; four dead, twelve critically injured, and scores of wounded had piled into the ER. Technically, that one hadn’t been her beat, but with an accident like that . . . well, the redhead hadn’t hesitated to jump in and help. Then her boss had dragged her into his office to complain about funding and budget cuts, for the fourth straight time this week. And as if that wasn’t enough, some genius had let a drug addict up to the Ward. Aside from being superhumanly strong and high as a kite, the sonofabitch had torn one of the waiting rooms to shreds, not to mention terrifying three of the test kids and scaring the hell out of most of the floor’s nursing staff.

The only good thing out of the asshole’s mess had been a chance to see her girlfriend for the first time in more than eight hours – though Elizabeth “Liz” Torres was technically a cop, she also worked as the head of hospital security, with special emphasis on their wing. Or at least, it should have been a good thing. But it had taken the guards almost twenty minutes to respond, and by the time they’d shown up, Kate’s last nerve had been ground into a fine powder by the psychotic’s rampage. She’d snipped at Liz, knowing it was wrong, but unable to stop herself from taking out her frustrations. Predictably, her beloved Latina had been confused and wounded – and surprisingly, just as irritated as Kate herself. Liz had snapped back in defense of her people, Kate had fired off some cutting reply, and their wonderful meeting had been reduced to a massive argument. All of which made for a pretty damned pissed-off Assistant Resident of Experimental Medicine.

So she pretty much expected to be yelled at. Or slapped. But when she’d practically ordered Liz into the stairwell for some privacy, she sure as hell hadn’t expected to be slammed against the nearest wall, an expert mouth devouring her own so thoroughly she thought she might pass out from the sheer pleasure of it. Kate’s eyes rolled back, lashes fluttering as heat ignited in her veins. God, how she’d missed this. “Liz – ” A moan tore from her throat, the name little more than a gasp between panting, desperate kisses. “Fuck, Liz – what – ”

Liz paused for just a second, looking down at her lover with smoldering eyes, their sapphire shade darkened to midnight heat. “I want you.” She replied frankly, her growl so low it made Kate’s toes curl. Strong hands curled possessively around the younger woman’s hips. “I’m sick of this night, I’m sick of fighting with you, and I’m fucking sick of not being able to have you.”

Full lips returned to their task before the redhead could even think of an answer, dragging down the slender column of her throat. Tongue and teeth joined in, suckling and nipping at suddenly overheated skin in a sensual dance, and any protest Kate might have made vanished with a rush of searing need. It had been weeks since the two of them had done anything more than kiss at the door, or snuggle together in bed before falling into exhausted sleep, and Liz certainly wasn’t the only one who’d been feeling the strain. The young doctor’s head fell back, her own desperate fingers tugging at the buttoned overshirt her lover wore. “Off.” She hissed, hips already quivering, every nerve ending on fire. “I want you, Liz – get it off.”

“No.” The taller woman smirked, bestowing a bite to Kate’s collarbone that made her slender frame jerk. Her voice dripped sex like pure, molten honey. “Not just yet. This is my game, lover. We’re going to play it my way.”

Kate moaned, blazing as much from the hot promise as the push of her lover’s strong thigh between her legs. Any anger that might have been left burned instantly to ash. “God, Liz.” She tugged blindly at mahogany silk, dragging Liz’s mouth back to hers. The new kisses were just as deep and wet as the first, punctuated with low, aching groans, eager tongues echoing the pressing rhythm Elizabeth set below. Long-fingered hands stripped away the redhead’s shirt in seconds, cupping hot breasts through lacy fabric, stroking and tugging at already pebbled nipples as Kate arched into the touch. “Lizzie – ” The demand came out a pleading whine.

“My way.” Liz’s dark, rich growl only amped up the throbbing need, each panted word sending a new jolt through her core. “I’m going – to have you – right here, Kat.” One of those talented hands slid to the small of her back, pulling her hard against the Latina’s rocking hips as the other undid her slacks. “I want – to hear you – to feel you come – ”

Fuck! Kate gasped breathlessly, her own grip deadly tight on her lover’s shoulders. Though she’d never admitted it, she loved when Liz got all dominant and possessive. The gorgeous Latina had always been a wonderful, talented lover . . . but there was something primal, almost magnetic about her when she hit one of those moods. Not to mention unbearably erotic. Knowing fingertips slipped through the open material, trailing over dark silk and short curls before dipping lower. A carnal groan rumbled at the redhead’s ear, heavy with pleasure. “God, Red – you’re soaked.”

“For – for you.” Kate shuddered, fighting to speak past the aching fire roaring at her center. She knew her lover liked to hear her, even if they had to keep at least slightly quiet. Those fingers pressed up against her clit, rewarding the words, and her voice broke into a shaking cry. The young doctor rolled her hips instinctively, a silent plea for more.

Though she couldn’t see the feral smile on Liz’s face, there was no mistaking the brunette’s response. Her free hand pulled one of the redhead’s legs up, pressing the smaller woman harder against the wall, and two fingers thrust deep into wet heat. Kate’s head snapped back, an almost tortured moan torn from her throat. “Liz!”

“Tell me, Kat.” The Latina pulled almost entirely out, then pushed in again, her thumb circling her lover’s clit. “Are you close?”

Panting, hips bucking desperately, it took Kate a few seconds to find her voice. “Yes.” She whimpered, another pleasured groan overwhelming her as those incredible fingers found a new, faster rhythm. “God, Liz.” Teeth nipped at her earlobe, Liz’s chest pushing against hers. “Yes!”

“Then come for me.” Liz put her own hips behind the thrusts now, the gasped words a demand. Her thumb twisted, pressing. “Come for me, Kate.”

The redhead’s back arched, her body frozen for a heartbeat as she balanced on the brink; then the world seemed to explode into glittering fragments, her orgasm overtaking her. Waves of white-hot pleasure crashed through her again and again, her lover’s talented fingers prolonging the climax with practiced skill. Kate had no idea how long she writhed, flooded with ecstasy – a minute, five, ten? Lost in the haze of fevered bliss, she could have stood there forever and not cared.

Liz held the young doctor gently as she drifted on the afterglow, dropping soft kisses against tousled red curls. She didn’t need to speak. A wry grin curved her lips. Once Kate had her wits back, she’d probably do enough talking for the both of them. For now, the tall Latina was content to simply cradle her lover, riding out the aftershocks and basking in their happiness.

Shifting, she felt her own wet panties against her thighs, and a new smile sparkled in her eyes. Kate could give as good as she got, she always had. And after this little interlude –

- payback was gonna be a bitch.

El Desenlace Verdadero: The True Outcome (PepSi, 1/?)

2009-07-23T08:23:44Z

Name: El Desenlace Verdadero - The True Outcome (1/?)
Fandom: Los Hombres de Paco (crossover, sorta)
Pairing: Pepa / Silvia (PepSi)
Rating: Hmmm. Probably 15, but for violence, not sex.
Spoilers: Definitely - this one takes place during the Season Eight finale, so MAJOR spoilers for that episode.
Tagline: What really happened during "The wedding of the Century."
Summary: When El Gordo chose to eliminate the officers of San Antonio, he had no idea just what he'd be facing. And he never could have imagined the power a single promise could hold. Now the Hombres and their allies are fighting back - and in a dark, bloody wine cellar, miracles are about to happen. Can this family of everyday heroes come through hell intact?

A/N: Okay, I admit it, I'm officially a PepSi addict. After watching all their clips on Youtube - via the utterly amazing PepsiEnglish - there was no way NOT to love these stunning, talented actresses and the gorgeous characters / relationship that developed. Though as far as I'm concerned, certain events from the wedding either didn't happen or have a "positive" spin. So no matter the angsty, I promise you - this story WILL have a happy ending!

A/N #2: This is only the beginning of my fic barrage - I've been working on stuff, and it'll show this week. ^^

After sixty-one years, Don Lorenzo believed he knew much about pain. Not simply physical hurts, though as an officer of the law, he had dealt with his share of that as well. No, his greatest acquaintance was with emotional pain. He had weathered the loss of his beautiful wife, and later, the death of his unborn grandchild; he had been forced to endure, to watch as his family were wounded again and again in the line of their work. He had stood by and seen his eldest daughter’s wonderful marriage fall apart beneath the stress of their lives, his child’s emotions crumbling to the point that she was forced to leave them all to save her sanity. And he had watched his youngest, his beautiful princess, move from a disastrous marriage to a string of equally disastrous boyfriends . . . and finally, into the arms of a woman. Not just any woman, either. The one woman who, until recently, he had hated with all the fiery passion he could muster. The same woman he had spent her childhood trying to keep away from her. Oh yes, Don Lorenzo had an intimate relationship with emotional pain.

But at this moment, lying helpless on the shattered tiles of the beautiful casa that had so recently been filled with joy, the Commissioner of San Antonio felt a stab of agony and heartbreak so deep it stole what little breath he had left. He had failed. He had failed, and now, the two beautiful women huddled in the dark wine cellar would be left without help. His beloved, fiery princesa would be condemned to a slow, tortured death, and his fierce, vibrant daughter-in-law would be forced to bear the crushing grief alone.

Silvia . . . Pepa. My daughters, forgive me.

It had started out as such a small bit of luck, a minor miracle in the midst of this hell. He’d been searching through one of the back rooms, doing his best to find something, anything to stem the bleeding from Silvia’s wound, and happened to catch a glimpse of his daughter’s rented car parked only a few meters from the deserted patio. There was a fully-stocked medical kit in that car, he knew – he had watched Silvia tuck it away in the trunk after he drew her away from the autopsy. And he knew it held all sorts of equipment, even the tools necessary for a blood transfusion. If he could reach it, there was every chance his beautiful child would live to enjoy the honeymoon she had so lovingly detailed earlier. Don Lorenzo hesitated only a moment.

As it turned out, the Mafioso goons hidden in the treeline had taken exception to his dash for the auto. Fortunately, there were only a pair of them, much less skilled than their counterparts out front. It was a fact that saved the Commissioner from instant death; after the first few shots shattered against tables and decorations, he’d had just enough time to throw himself to the ground. Shoulder and leg stabbing fresh with agony, the older man choked back a groan. The planters and elegant sculptures set out for the wedding had practically disintegrated in the onslaught of bullets, their shrapnel flung through the air in lethal clouds. Those wicked-sharp pieces had found the targets the high-velocity lead could not . . . and now, Don Lorenzo lay bloodied and helpless on the broken ground, unable to retreat as the thugs closed in on his position. The first one reached him and burst into laughter, prodding his ribs with a steel-toed boot. “Damn, didn’t think any of ‘em were stupid enough to come this way! Poor old fucker – ”

His insult turned into a sudden yelp as the Commissioner caught his foot, wrenching the limb upward and ignoring the screaming ache in his bloodied shoulder. The man wind-milled wildly in an attempt to keep his balance, the rifle in his hand almost dropping. At the same moment, Don Lorenzo swung sideways, hooking his uninjured leg around the second goon and wrenching hard. If he could get one of them down, he would have a chance at the weapon –

But the second thug was heavier than his companion; though he staggered back into a table, he stayed upright. A moment later, the butt of his gun landed a cracking blow against the side of the Commissioner’s skull. Stars exploded in Don Lorenzo’s vision, head bouncing back against the tiles with a thud that echoed in his ears. A punishing rain of kicks followed, mauling his already battered body. Helpless, unable to protect himself, the older man wondered if he would pass out before they killed him.

After what felt like an eternity, the blows stopped, leaving only the heavy breathing of his attackers and agony that throbbed with every heartbeat. “Motherfucker.” The first Mafioso snarled, spitting onto the tiles. A rifle cocked with a sharp click. “Time to put your ass down, old man.”

Don Lorenzo gritted his teeth, drawing a steadying breath through tortured lungs. If he was to die here, at the hands of these smug bastards, he would damned well face them as a man, not some whipped dog. But as his dazed eyes focused painfully on the ugly face hanging over him, an odd, swift double thump sounded, and a silver blur suddenly glinted at the goon’s thick neck. The thug’s beady little eyes widened, so round it was almost comical; the gun in his hand twitched, then dropped, clattering harmlessly against the patio. His body – and the body of his companion – landed only seconds behind, dropping on either side of the Commissioner like a pair of morbid bookends.

What – how? Who –

Blinking away the blood running freely into his face, Don Lorenzo tried to focus as a new shadow moved into place above him. A male voice spoke, its deep tone unfamiliar. “Took you long enough.”

The English was so unexpected, it took longer than it should have for the Commissioner’s foggy mind to place. Once it had, though, the implication was frightening. Could El Gordo have summoned a British Mafioso? Or worse, an American gangster of some kind? But why would he have killed one of his own men?

“Had to line up a shot on them both.” A second voice responded, and the world seemed to spin even farther from normal. This new speaker was young, little more than Sara’s age, and definitely female. “Didn’t want to hit the other guy.” There was a pause, then the sound of a sharply-sucked breath. “Hell, Nick, that looks like – ”

“It is.” The man’s tone answered, grim even as the darkness advanced on Don Lorenzo’s aching thoughts. The girl cursed fluidly in both French and English, cutting momentarily through the dimness with a litany that would have done a sailor proud. Still, the slender fingers that felt for a pulse at the Commissioner’s neck were nothing but gentle.

“Bad?”

“Better than it would’ve been if they’d shot him.” Came the answering snort. The girl stood, her voice moving away. “We gotta get out of here, let Piper know the window’s already open – she’s gonna kick our ass.”

His consciousness fading quickly, Don Lorenzo found himself unable to fight as strong arms lifted him into the air, the man’s answer rumbling suddenly from much closer. “I think for this, she’ll understand. Grab the radios, let’s move.”

The girl’s voice spoke once more, her tone low in his ear. “Don’t worry, Senior . . . we’re here to help.” Her words echoed through the Commissioner’s mind. “We’ll stop them, I swear.”

Then even she was gone, and Don Lorenzo felt himself begin to pass out. Silvia . . . please, Silvia, Pepa. Hold on.

Hold on, my daughters.

Sneak Peek - Bloodied Hearts

2009-05-27T06:52:18Z

This here's a sneak peek of my next fic - it's Otalia, as is most of my stuff these days. xD

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Name: Bloodied Hearts
Pairing: Otalia (Olivia / Natalia)
Spoilers: None
Setting: Set during Natalia's engagement to Frank; splits from canon before Rafe comes home.
Summary: Olivia Spencer knows she has a problem. It's bad enough that her best friend, the very love of her life, is engaged to someone else; trying to help plan a wedding when you'd rather make a pass at the bride isn't easy. But now her self-control seems to be deserting her just when she needs it the most. And then there's the mood swings, the violent and ruthless impulses . . . and the blackouts and hallucinations . . .

. . . oh yeah. She's got a big problem.

Natalia Rivera has no idea what to do. Her engagement to Frank seems to have brought out the beast in Olivia; her best friend is turning into a complete stranger. People are getting hurt again . . . and it's only getting worse. But is she paranoid, or is there something sinister at work here? And when she finally learns the truth, will she be able to save Olivia - or herself?

Snippet of Bloodied Hearts

"Olivia, where are you going?"

Olivia stopped, breathing hard, her hand on the doorknob. So close! "Out." She kept her words short and clipped. Only the nervous twisting of her fingers in her jacket collar betrayed her. "I'm going out for a while."

"But - " Natalia's voice sounded confused - and more than a little hurt. Olivia didn't dare turn to see what she looked like. "We were going to go over the Beacon's new catering applicants, weren't we?"

"We can do it later." The blonde cursed her strained tone, knowing it would only make Natalia worry further. Another wave of heat rolled through her body, tightening things too low for comfort. She had to get out of here, <i>now</i>. Wearily, she rubbed the bridge of her nose. "I just - I need some space."

"From what?" The petite Latina paused for a moment, the silence a deadly lull between them. Then her voice seemed to explode, incredulous. "From me?! What did I do? What could I possibly have done that you have to run away?!?"

Olivia's gaze flashed upward, and she swallowed hard. One hand out and gesturing, chocolate eyes wide with stunned anger and shaded with hurt, her olive skin flushed ever so slightly . . . Natalia had never looked so gorgeous. The taller woman's throat tightened. It's nothing you did, Natalia, it's what I want to do. The indignant question in that beautiful face cut her to the quick. If I don't leave, I'm going to - I want - I want to push you against the wall, touch that soft skin and take those gorgeous lips over and over until you moan - slide my fingers in those tight jeans, feel you throbbing and hot and wet - I want you to beg me to take you, I want to feel you arched and bucking when I thrust into you - I want to watch you come for me, just for me, I want to hear you scream my name when I claim you -

With a painful effort, she wrenched herself from the fantasy, her breath coming in sharp, panting gasps. Her pulse was thundering so loud it roared in her ears; she was vaguely surprised she hadn't set off the beeper yet. Natalia was still staring at her, still angry and stunned and wanting an answer, so she hadn't been daydreaming that long. It would be so easy to take you -

"I just have to go, okay?" Flinging the door open, Olivia made her move for freedom, stepping out so quickly Natalia barely even realized she moved before she was gone. Her voice floated back, laced with forced casual cheer. "I'll be back in a bit, I promise."

When I find out what the hell is wrong with me. Or get a good stiff drink, whichever comes first.

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Well, what do you guys think?

Missed and Taken Chances (Guiding Light, Natalia / Olivia)

2009-05-17T07:17:27Z

Name: Missed and Taken Chances
Author: Rune Traverse
Fandom: Guiding Light
Pairing: Otalia (Olivia / Natalia)
Rating: PG - a few minor swear words, I think.
Summary: When Olivia gets in an accident, Natalia decides to take her chances.
AN: Because Tallis practically gift-wrapped the damned plotbunny, this one goes to her. Much love, my purple chica. ^^

Oh please, God, no -

Natalia Rivera had never considered herself much of a runner. Oh, she knew she had the legs for it – long and lean, muscles made strong from uncounted hours waiting tables and rushing to appointments. And if the conditions were right – say, hurrying to catch a bus when Rafe was small, or playing with Emma at the playground – she knew she could do short sprints without even a thought. Still, it wasn’t something she enjoyed, and she was usually content with a fast walk at most.

So the fact that she was presently flying down the sidewalk as fast as her legs could carry her was a bit of a surprise. Or at least, it would be, if she had been focused on anything other than the pounding of her heart and the screaming in her head.

Olivia, Olivia - God, please, Olivia -

A crisp gust of wind whipped her hair in her face, but Natalia cleared her eyes with a jerky shake of her head, gulping cold air into her already tortured lungs. Five minutes ago, she’d been on the phone with Olivia, juggling a bag of fresh-baked apple fritters and a drink carrier jammed with two cups of hot coffee as she left Company. The meeting they’d prepared for all yesterday had come off a brilliant success, and both women had decided on an impromptu “date” in the park to celebrate. They’d been doing that a lot in the week since the spa – random little ‘together’ times, small moments to help with feeling comfortable as a couple. The brunette suspected it was more for her benefit than anything else, a way to get over their ‘limbo’ and start going forward with their lives again. This time, Olivia had left Natalia at the diner to grab their snack, while she herself ran back to the Beacon and dropped off their paperwork. They planned to meet back at the park, in the gazebo.

Their conversation hadn’t been important, barely more than silly, teasing banter . . . yet it burned through Natalia’s mind, an endless loop of razor sharpness.

“Yeah, they’re hot out of the oven.” With a laugh, the Latina tucked her warm bundle into the crook of an elbow, the paper bag crackling pleasantly. A distracted wave to Buzz, and she pushed open the heavy door, trailing the scent of coffee behind her as she headed out into the open air. “But you totally knew that, didn’t you?”

“Me?” Olivia’s mock-surprise melted to a wicked smirk, audible even over the phone. “What, you doubted my finely-honed skill to locate baked goods?”

Another round of giggles ensued even as Natalia rolled her eyes, unable to stop her smile. “You’re impossible.” She informed her best friend, wedging the cell phone between her head and shoulder for a moment while she adjusted her coat and scarf. The answering laugh, rich and husky, was enough to turn the younger woman’s knees to jelly. Hurriedly, she spoke, hoping her voice didn’t betray her. “So where are you?”

“Just turned onto Main street.” In the background, Natalia could hear the rumble of the car’s engine and the faint click of a turn signal. “I shouldn’t be more than a few minutes – you’re not too cold, are you? We could eat inside – ”

“It’s not that bad.” The brunette felt her heart melt at the shades of gentle worry in her companion’s voice. “Besides, it’s beautiful out. We can even feed the ducks.”

Olivia chuckled. “You and those ducks. You’re as bad as Emma! I should buy you one of those T-shirts, ya know – I love my duckies? Or maybe a duck-whistle.” Natalia burst into fresh laughter, and Liv’s teasing tone warmed. “What about a duck hat? Like with a fake duck on top. Do they really sell those? Or a – ”

A horrific chaos of sound erupted then, cutting off the hotelier’s clever comment in a sudden din of shattering glass and crunching metal. On the other end of the phone, Natalia froze. “Olivia?” The name was little more than a whispered breath, nearly drowned out by the ringing in her ears. Long, tapered fingers clutched the cell tighter, her grip growing more white-knuckled every second. “Olivia. Olivia, answer me.”

There was no response in the roaring silence. Drinks and donuts clattered unnoticed to the pavement, spilling into a wet, sticky puddle of paper and pastry. Natalia’s breathing grew ragged, shredded into frantic gasps that squeezed from a raw throat. “Olivia! Olivia!”

Back on the street, Natalia pushed herself even faster, shoes smacking against the cement with fierce purpose. Her mind was whirling, a twisted riot of question and emotion. Olivia, Olivia – what had happened to Olivia? It had sounded like a crash – Oh, dear God, if Olivia was hurt – I can’t handle that. I couldn’t live with that. The idea of something worse – her soul shied away, sick. Anything beyond hurt was like a burning coal she couldn’t touch. Her heart clenched, eyes burning with tears she hadn’t the time to shed. She had no idea what she could possibly do if there had been an accident, or even what she would find once she reached Olivia, but the driving need that jolted through every nerve went deeper than any logic. She had to find Liv, had to reach her side. Nothing else mattered.

A prayer wound its way through the fragments of her thoughts, the same plea her soul had been repeating from the instant she had heard that horrible sound. God on High, protect my love and keep her safe . . . care for her and hold her in your arms, until I can hold her in my own. Please, Lord, I can’t – I can’t lose her. I need her too much. She’s everything to me.

Pain gripped her chest as the sudden wail of sirens carried on the crisp air, an ache made more of desperation than exertion spiraling from somewhere deep inside. Shaking panic and icy fear followed, a dizzying mix that flooded beneath her skin and slammed the walls around her heart. They shattered in an instant, laying her soul bare. Natalia swallowed hard, her prayer continuing with a ring of pure truth. No, she’s more than everything. I’ve been so scared, so afraid I’d lose her and Emma both if we didn’t work out – but if I lose her now, without knowing what we could be – I couldn’t stand it. Please, God, don’t ask me to bear that burden, not with her. You gave us this love, don’t take it away before we have a chance to live it. Please, please –

At that moment, she turned the corner onto Main Street, and Natalia’s entire world crashed to a halt. A few dozen yards away sat Olivia’s white car; it was shoved halfway up the sidewalk, tilted precariously on blown tires, a thick aluminum telephone pole embedded in the center of the passenger side. And opposite that – a maroon sedan had smashed into the front driver’s side, its massive front end little more than a mangled, twisted wreck of crumpled metal.

Natalia froze. Farther away, she could see an ambulance with its back doors open, flanked by a squad car and what she vaguely recognized as Mallet’s personal vehicle, all three surrounded by a decent crowd of onlookers and personnel. Lights still flashing, sirens still whooping – but the brunette saw none of it. Her focus had narrowed to that single car, its half-hidden windshield spider-webbed and smeared with a long spatter of what had to be blood. Eyes wide, chest heaving, she felt the scream tearing from her throat before she heard it, a howling wail of utter despair. “Nooooo!!”

She didn’t realize she was running toward the crash until a figure moved into view at her side, strong arms catching and closing around her to hold her back. Natalia fought wildly against their grip, tears streaming unheeded down her face. “Let me go! Let me go! Olivia!”

“Natalia!” It was Mallet’s voice. He was the one holding her, she realized; he must have been saying her name for a while, though she didn’t remember it. Her struggles slowed, hesitating for just a moment, and he shook her gently. “Natalia, it’s okay! She’s okay. Olivia’s okay!”

The words penetrated her grieving haze, and Natalia stared at him, still gasping for breath. Releasing his tight grip, he set his hands on her shoulders, his steady gaze focused on her as if she were a wild animal. “She’s alright, Natalia, they got her out. Olivia’s fine.”

Her terror faded, just a bit, and hope rose like shimmering star in her chest. “She’s – ”

“I told you I’m FINE!” A yell equal parts exasperated and furious erupted before the young cop could answer, cutting through the general noise with the sharpness of a razor. To Natalia’s ears, it was the most beautiful sound in the world. “I gave my statement, I let you idiots maul me around, now give me your phone!”

Mallet turned and gestured toward the ambulance; as though by magic, the crowd parted, revealing a familiar figure seated on the open tailgate. Aside from a torn blouse and a long, bloodied scratch across the right side of her forehead, Olivia looked like the picture of health. Her cheeks flushed and gorgeous green eyes bright, she was presently fixing the man in front of her with one of her patented death glares, ignoring the EMT – Remy, Natalia recognized – carefully swabbing at her cut. It was a sight that hit the Latina like a shot of pure relief. Thank you God, thank you.

The well-dressed man Liv had been arguing with shifted from foot to foot under her hard stare, and Natalia realized it was Jeffery. Apparently, the DA had been close by when the accident happened. Now, he unfolded his crossed arms, making pacifying motions at the blonde woman before him. “Olivia, I don’t think – ”

“I don’t care what you think.” Olivia’s voice came out an almost venomous hiss, laced with a note of something that sounded suspiciously like panic. Full lips thinned, and she turned a bit to face her former husband squarely. “Natalia’s probably going out of her mind – Jeffery, if you don’t hand me that phone right now, I’m going to break your arm!”

Natalia pulled in a sharp breath, the sound half laugh and half sob. “She’s okay.” Her knees went weak, and she gripped Mallet’s jacketed arm with both hands as if it was all that would keep her upright. “Mallet, she – she’s okay.” Chocolate eyes were riveted on the hotelier.

His arm around her shoulders, the cop made sure Natalia was steady on her feet before squeezing her lightly. “Yeah.” He smiled, knowing full well she wasn’t really hearing him anymore. That look on her face – he shook his head. How could any of them missed this for so long? Poor Frank had never stood a chance.

Oblivious to his thoughts, the brunette swallowed hard, feeling the crushing weight on her chest lift slowly. “Liv – ” The weakness in her legs had passed, and now she stepped shakily away from Mallet, her gaze never leaving her best friend. “Olivia!”

Olivia Spencer’s head jerked up, ignoring Remy’s startled fumble as vibrant emerald eyes widened. “Natalia?!” Shocked, she waved the EMT away, pushing to her feet. “Wha – how?”

The younger woman found herself in motion again, dark hair flying behind her. In seconds, she had crossed the space between them, launching herself into Olivia’s open arms and burying her face against the blonde’s neck. “Oh God, Olivia, I was so scared.” Trembling, she wrapped her own arms around Olivia’s waist, clinging without shame. “I thought – I thought – ”

“Shhhh.” Olivia soothed, stroking her friend’s back gently. She knew what Natalia must have thought, she’d been trying to steal Jeffery’s phone for that exact reason. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m fine, barely even a scratch.” Okay, so she was also pretty damned sore, and kinda pissed – she’d liked this blouse, damnit! – but Natalia didn’t need to know that. “Come on, you think a little thing like that could put me down? I’m Olivia freakin’ Spencer.”

The joke seemed to fall on deaf ears, the younger woman simply burrowing deeper into the crook of her shoulder. With a tender sigh, Olivia tightened her arms around Natalia, laying her cheek against the tumbled dark silk of the Latina’s hair. Nat obviously needed comforting right now, and Olivia certainly wasn’t going to complain. Battered and bruised as she was, just basking in the warm embrace felt like heaven. After a few seconds, though, something occurred to her. “Natalia, how’d you get here?” She hadn’t seen anyone Natalia could’ve gotten a ride from, even if the brunette had been coherent enough to ask for one, something Olivia doubted. But there was no way – “Did you run here?!?”

Natalia nodded without lifting her head from its hideaway. Even a few minutes before, she might have been embarrassed at the admission, but right this moment, she couldn’t bring herself to feel bad about it. No, standing here in Olivia’s arms, feeling her best friend’s body vibrantly alive against her own, all she could feel was clear. It was as if . . . as if the crash had shaken everything back into place again.

A saying she’d heard Olivia chuckle over echoed softly in her thoughts. Sometimes, when God closes a door – he shuts it on your foot, to make sure you’re paying attention.

Message received, Lord.

Taking a deep breath, she inhaled the blonde’s unique scent greedily, letting it sooth all the places still raw from her heart-stopping fear. Then, almost reverently, she pressed her lips to the smooth skin of Olivia’s neck. “I thought I’d lost you.” She whispered, adding another soft kiss to punctuate her words. “It was the worst thing I’ve ever felt.”

Olivia took a sharp breath, her hand stilling between Natalia’s shoulder blades. That couldn’t have been – had Natalia really just sort-of kissed her? Here, in front of everyone? Granted, Jeffery and Remy had stepped away to give them some privacy, and it wasn’t like anyone could see the younger woman’s face, but it was still a total shock. And so much bolder than she would ever have expected from her assistant . . .

Gently, Natalia shifted a little, moving back just enough to meet Olivia’s eyes with her own. She had to explain things, she realized. She’d have to make Olivia understand. “When I thought you were gone, it killed me.” Her voice came soft, the words said so simply there was no way to argue. “I couldn’t stand losing you, Olivia, not without getting the chance to love you.”

“Natalia – ” Stunned, the blonde woman blinked rapidly, a protest leaping automatically to her tongue. This was public, it was obvious and open and everything Natalia had already admitted having problems with. “You don’t – ”

Natalia stopped her with a finger to her lips, chocolate eyes open and shining. “I know the risks, and I know the consequences, remember?” She smiled then, and it was utterly breathtaking. “No more limbo, no more analyzing and over-thinking. I love you, Olivia Spencer. I don’t care who knows it.”

The hand at the older woman’s mouth moved down, cupping her chin, and Olivia had only a dizzying moment to realize this was really happening before Natalia’s warm lips met hers. Oh God. Heat ignited low in her belly, spreading through her veins in a breath-stealing, stomach-flipping, nerve-sparking rush. And beneath that? A sensation of pure, utter bliss, settling deep in her bones and anchored with Natalia’s strong embrace. Olivia reeled, unable to do anything but pull her lover closer and return the caress. It wasn’t anything like their first kiss, or any other kiss in her life. Here, now, everything had finally clicked. This – this is home. This is where I belong.

When they finally broke apart, it took a moment for Olivia to remember to open her eyes. Breathless, she looked up and found Natalia smiling with a curious mix of shyness and pride. “So.” The Latin woman ducked her head slightly. “Are we okay?”

“Oh yeah.” The low, raspy answer came out instantly, and Olivia had to fight a blush when Natalia’s eyes widened. Clearing her throat, the blonde reached for Nat’s hand, tangling their fingers together. “Yes.” She repeated, smiling. “Yes, we’re okay.”

“Good.” Natalia squeezed her hand, tilting her head toward the waiting men. “Are they – ” Her cheeks darkened faintly. “Was it too much? Are they staring?”

They? Honestly, Olivia had forgotten anyone else existed the moment their lips touched. Now, her gaze flicked up over the brunette’s shoulder, a death glare challenging anyone who might dare to look back. But there was no criticism or scorn in the faces she could see. On the contrary, Mallet met her eyes squarely, his wry, gentle smile utterly genuine. He seemed totally happy for them. Remy looked like someone had struck him in the back of the head with a board . . . completely shocked, but not disgusted in the least, if she were judging by the small grin edging its way across his face. And Jeffery’s smirk held nothing but teasing laughter. “If I whistle, you’re gonna hit me, aren’t you?”

Olivia raised an eyebrow at him, and the DA just laughed, raising his hands in surrender. “Okay, fine, I give.” His smile turned serious for just a moment. “I’m glad you’re okay.” As Natalia turned, still holding Liv’s hand, he nodded towards her. “Both of you.”

“Thanks, Jeffery.” And she meant it, Olivia realized, watching him tow Remy back around the ambulance. The tall black man managed to raise one hand, waving as he was dragged away. “Put ice on that bump Olivia, and take it easy for a few days. Congratulations, you guys!”

Congratulations – huh. The blonde looked over at her smashed car, noticing only a few glares or sniffs of disapproval from the onlookers that had caught the show. Most actually seemed rather touched by the happy ending. Even the most angry-looking watcher, though, moved off as Mallet started clearing the scene. As the crowd around them started to disperse, Olivia turned her gaze to the woman snuggled against her side. Who, she noticed, looked absolutely content. Still – “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes.” Natalia’s answer came quick and firm, without any doubt. Tugging Olivia’s arm around her waist, the brunette leaned her head against her lover’s shoulder for a moment before gathering up Olivia’s salvaged things from the back of the ambulance. “Come on. You can change your shirt and clean up at the Beacon, and we can borrow the extra car to head home. Unless you want to stay there?”

The hotelier shook her head. Now that her adrenaline and emotional high was fading, her body ached, and the scratch across her forehead had started stinging unmercifully. But as a warm smile crossed her face, Olivia knew she’d never felt better in her life. “Let’s just go home, huh?” Shrugging into her jacket to cover the torn shirt, she slung a casual arm around Natalia’s waist, and the two of them started their trek back toward the Beacon. Back home – together. The way it should be.

Natalia smiled. Home – she liked the sound of that.

“Hey, duck-lady. What happened to our donuts?”

My first Otalia fic - hope you guys enjoy!

Double Drabble Challenge - Puppy Love (MiS, Ash/Scribbs)

2009-02-14T23:31:10Z

Title: Puppy Love
Fandom: Murder in Suburbia
Pairing: Ash/Scribbs
Word Count: 200 (well, 247. Close enough.)
Disclaimer: Murder in Suburbia and its characters are the property of ITV. No infringement intended.
AN: This one came about after reading Dar's drabble with my new puppy jumping at my legs - just some silly fluff, really.

“Scribbs, we cannot possibly keep a dog!”

Ash stared at her blonde partner, unable to believe what Scribbs had suggested. They were already undercover, in the middle of a serial murder investigation, hip-deep in suspects . . . and Emma wanted to adopt a stray they’d found nosing the bins?

“But Ash, look at him!” Scribbs cuddled the wiggly fluffball in her lap, grinning as the puppy licked her chin. The brunette fought off a smile. Granted, he was cute – some small breed, with silky, smoke-and-cream fur. And he did seem to adore a certain DS, judging by his swishing tail. They were certainly an adorable picture together. Still, there were rules to consider, complications –

Twin pairs of pleading hazel eyes fixed on her, and Ash found her resolve crumbling under such sweetness. Heaving a sigh, she dropped to the couch beside her partner. “Fine. We can keep him - ”

“Yes!”

“ – but only because your cover is supposed to love animals.” Kate tried to stay serious. “And I expect you to train him. If he has any accidents, Scribbs, I’m warning you – ”

“He won’t.” Scribbs flung an arm around the other woman’s shoulders, hugging her with the puppy balanced between them. “Oh, Ash, you’re the best!” She beamed down at the little mutt, oblivious to her partner’s sudden flush. “Isn’t she tops, Bandit?”

“Bandit?” Ash echoed, blinking. The pup yipped, and she groaned. “Two coppers and a dog named Bandit.”

“Bloody perfect.”

SCC - Rune / Magical Version

2008-09-30T03:06:32Z

Goddamnit, I missed the deadline! Phooey. Well, at least I can make the formatting look pretty now. *growl*

*blinks at the beginning of the ep* Dude, I so wish I had finished this before the deadline, seriously. 'cause that looked so much like Cali it's not even funny. Right down to the frigging jacket.

Awesome, awesome, awesome!

2008-08-25T20:01:23Z

Being a random idiot, I was browsing fanficrants and found this little gem. Had to share it, because really, I can't think of anything that's ever made me go "YES!!!! FINALLY, someone else who thinks like this!!!!!!"

Very cool posting about research in fanfics

[/fangirl idiocy]

For anyone waiting on my Bad Girls fic, I apologize for the delays - a semi-PWP and the second part of Doors will hopefully be finished after I get off work tonight. ^^

Doors (Helen/Nikki)

2008-08-23T22:59:19Z

Title: Doors (1/?)
Fandom: Bad Girls
Pairing: Helen / Nikki
Summary: Some doors aren't always physical.
Archiving: P&P always - if'n ya like, Ralst, I can send you the files. ^^
Disclaimer: Yeah, like I own them. Pshhhh.
AN: Set as an alternate take on episode 2 of series 2, diverting from the end of the episode instead of Nikki being shipped out of Larkhall and Helen resigning. In this version, Nikki’s stint on the block – with her memorable lines of “stick your tongue down my throat” and “I wanna make love to you all night long” – have resulted in a massive fight between the two women and strained their relationship more than a bit. Fenner still discovered Shell was behind the phone calls, since Nikki was double-locked in solitary at the time, but he didn’t beat her up, preferring to stick her on the block with a promise of heading to the Muppet Wing when she got out. Hence, he hasn’t been suspended, because Shell was too afraid to grass. Since the plot’s rather farther along than it would have been, Zandra’s also died – I always thought Helen should have been at the memorial – and Shaz is happily holed up with Denny and Crystal in the four-bed dorm.
AN2: This was originally a random short meant for the Turbolift challenge, Earth-style – Ralst mentioned Helen / Nikki getting stuck in a cell, and it was just too good to pass up. Then it became a cliche piece, then an IDF, and now just a "hey, I wondered where I saved that!" and nowhere near as short as I hoped. xD Anyone that doesn't know already, it's a first-time story - I love writing 'em.

______________________________________________________________________________

“So you’re telling us this door is stuck for the whole bloody night?!”

Helen stood in front of the aforementioned door with her arms folded across her chest, dumbfounded fury radiating from every inch of her five foot, four inch frame. Half-sprawled on the bed, Nikki eyed her new ‘cellmate’ with a mixture of amused affection and respect. The Scot’s current extremely-casual attire – low-slung jeans, an open sapphire overshirt, navy halter top and short boots – did absolutely nothing to lessen the force of her shock and rage. She really was elemental when she got going, the lifer mused. A veritable force of nature.

Unfortunately, that didn’t bode well for the rest of the staff clustered outside. “Who the hell’s bloody mad idea was this?!?” Her accent rolled out thick enough to step on, sending a delicious tingle straight through the brunette behind her.

“I’m sorry, m’am.” On the other side, Dominic sounded quite embarrassed. “It seems the only way to get it open without the codes is to cut away the hinges using special equipment.”

“Which we don’t have.” Nikki didn’t need to see Fenner’s face to know he had on that smug, self-satisfied expression she so loathed. “It seems you’re well and truly stuck in there until the timer opens tomorrow morning.”

Helen’s face darkened, and Nikki bit back a wince. This whole stupid circus had started simply enough. The Home Office had decided they wanted to test a new type of cell system they’d built from an American prototype, and naturally, they’d picked G-wing of Larkhall to do it. After two weeks of wicked-fast construction, the first room was completed; as large and ‘well-furnished’ as the other Enhanced cells on G3, its crowning feature was a massive metal door nearly a foot thick, wired with a specialized electric circuit and timer. Once the appropriate time rolled around, the circuit charged, and the door automatically locked until the set release time. Since it was electric, one would need a passcode to open it rather than normal keys, and prisoners couldn’t break the charge as easily as they might a regular lock. Even better, it had temporary passcodes, which unlocked the circuit for a certain length of time before automatically recharging the system.

As Wing Governor, Helen had been required to attend the low-key ‘dedication,’ though she’d completely forgotten about it until two minutes before. She’d been having a decently-friendly chat with Nikki in her office about the upcoming exams – one of the first real talks they’d managed since the whole argument on the block – and they’d ended up running into the screws on the way back to the dorm. Fenner, slimy bastard that he was, had obviously noticed the thick tension crackling between the women earlier, and he’d convinced Stubberfield that having an inmate there to test out the system would be perfect. When Helen protested, the way Fenner just knew that she would, he’d offered for her to go in as well. With both prisoner and Governor inside, they’d tested the door and pronounced it solid. Everything seemed to be going just fine –

At least, until the idiots had realized there were no temporary codes programmed into the system, and there was no current code for an override. With the system fully charged, there was literally no way to let the two of them out until nine o’clock tomorrow morning.

Nikki had quickly realized the conversation was best left between screws, and stilled her natural impulse to butt in, settling herself out of the way with her mouth shut instead. Besides, it gave her a rare opportunity to watch Helen in action. The Wing Governor looked twice as beautiful when she was raging, though Nikki had no idea how that was possible.

And she was certainly raging now, the lifer smiled privately. Every muscle torqued, back rigid, feet set and emerald eyes literally snapping with electricity. Helen hissed an infuriated breath through her teeth. “Can’t you reset the bloody opening time?”

“’Fraid not, m’am.” Now Fenner sounded positively gleeful beneath his usual oil-smooth tones. “It requires the master override to do that, and we don’t have one programmed in yet. I believe the request for authorization was on your desk this morning.”

Nikki grimaced at that. Uh-oh. The Scot looked about to royally explode, Governing Governor Stubberfield be damned. And as much fun as it would be to listen to Helen ripping Jim Fenner a new arsehole – something the brunette had no doubt would be great fun indeed – she couldn’t let her beloved Wing Governor do that kind of damage to herself. Sliding gracefully from the bed, Nikki padded up behind Helen to set a gentle hand on the younger woman’s shoulder. “Easy, Helen.” Deliberately, she pitched her voice too low for anyone outside to hear, leaning forward until her lips almost brushed the blonde’s flushed ear. “Not even Fenner could be this bloody stupid on purpose. Much as I’d like to blame the bastard, it’s not his fault. He’s just digging the knife in because he can.”

Oh, God. The furious tension in Helen’s body fled quite abruptly at the first touch of Nikki’s fingers, rushing from her so suddenly her knees turned to rubber. She had no idea how such simple contact could be so soothing and strangely electrifying at the same time. And that soft tone, like dark, melting chocolate, with the barest hint of breathiness thrown in – it wasn’t just a sound, it was a heated caress, sending legions of sparks skipping across her nerves. Helen swallowed hard, her rage vanishing without a trace as she tried to keep the shock from showing naked on her face. Her body had never reacted like that before . . . not with Sean, not with anyone. How did you do that to me, Nikki? After a few more seconds of silent, heart-stopping closeness, the blonde cleared her throat faintly and managed to find her voice. “I know.” She whispered, mock-petulant. “I still don’t have to like it.”

Nikki burst into quiet laughter, and Helen found herself relaxing enough to smile back at the brunette, wanting to see more of that easy joy with a surprising intensity. “I guess it could have been worse. I could be in here with someone horrible, like Dockley or Hollamby.”

“Or Fenner.” Nikki smirked, mahogany gaze warming at the backhanded compliment. A grimace of utter disgust from Helen answered the teasing comment; their eyes met, and somehow, that was all it took. In seconds, both were engulfed with hushed giggles like a pair of giddy schoolgirls, heads almost touching, Helen half-leaning back into Nikki’s chest as the lifer’s arm curled around the Scot’s slender waist.

Catching her breath, Nikki couldn’t help the slight squeeze she gave the curved hip beneath her hand, an almost absentminded gesture as her heart swelled. Oh, how she’d missed this in the last few days. Being allowed close to Helen, to see her unguarded and happy – it was a treasure, made all the more important by how close she’d come to losing it. Warmth curled in the brunette’s belly, and she resolutely pushed it away. If the price she had to pay for this friendship was physical frustration, then so be it. She couldn’t, wouldn’t give Helen up.

Helen rested her forehead lightly against Nikki’s shoulder with a soft, happy sigh, unable to fight the smile tugging at her lips. It only grew wider when she felt Nikki’s gentle caress at her waist, her body relaxing into the loose embrace all the more. How horribly ironic, she reflected, that it was here – locked on the wrong side of the bars – that she felt safer than she had in years.

Here in the arms of a murderer – a murderer you care for more than almost anything else in the world –

“Hel – Miss Stewart, ma’am?” Dominic’s worried voice broke through their shared haze, and Nikki blinked, Helen shaking herself slightly as if waking from a dream. “Are you alright?”

“Oh – yes, Dom.” Watching Helen’s mouth as they drew apart slightly, Nikki was amused to notice her licking her lips, a quick, absent gesture more erotic than it had any right to be. “I’m alright, it’s fine.”

Actually, Nikki realized, that wasn’t quite honest – the emerald eyes she so loved to gaze at were faintly clouded, just a bit dazed. If she hadn’t known better, the brunette would have sworn she was seeing the beginnings of lust flaring there. No, Helen made that perfectly clear. I won’t risk losing her friendship like that again.

“Helen?” Governing Governor Stubberfield had flipped open the small panel set into the center of the door, peering through it worriedly. The tall lifer had a private moment of relief that he hadn’t done it a few seconds sooner; that certainly would have made for some awkward explaining. “Helen, bloody hell, I’m so sorry about all this – ”

“No, Simon, it’s just fine.” Helen waved a hand, knowing her casual tone had to be annoying the hell out of Fenner. Well, good. She thought rebelliously. This wasn’t so very bad at all, everything considered. There was a decently comfortable bed for each of them, a toilet and sink, towels, a few books – all good reads she’d brought from home for Nikki to look at – and better company than most people in the prison, inmate or guard. A warm flush rolled through her veins at that thought, but Helen ignored it, focusing instead on the positive. It was only for one night, after all. If they could expect the prisoners to stay in their cells without complaint, surely she could stick out this little bit of time?

She said as much to Simon, minus the part about her company, of course, since it would only give Fenner more ammunition. A rather wicked smile touched her lips; she didn’t have to see Stubberfield’s face to know the wheels were turning in his devious little brain. “Wing Governor personally tests out new prison updates” – oh, the PR that will make. Smarmy bastard.

“Well, the least we can do is make sure you have some comfortable things.” A bit of scuffling came from the other side of the door, and a parcel of folded cloth was pushed through the slot. Unfurling the offering, Helen found a pair of standard prison pajamas in dark gray, along with a spaghetti-strap top and sleeping pants that were obviously Nikki’s. She passed the second set to her cellmate, who raised an eyebrow silently. Di Barker’s voice came through the door, slightly winded. “We asked Barbara to gather your pajamas, Nikki. Sorry about this – ”

“Don’t worry, D - miss.” Nikki smiled. There was something odd about Barker, no doubt about that, but it was still a nice thing for her to say. And even nicer that Di had run off to snag something that belonged to Nikki herself. It fit with the suspicion she’d already formed, listening to the muttered conversations and scurrying outside while Helen worked over Stubberfield; that Miss Betts, Dominic and Di, at least, wanted to make sure they were both comfortable, not just suck up to the Wing Governor. As if Helen wouldn’t see through a screw’s pet in an instant anyway. “Beats a night in strips on the block, no questions.”

Helen swatted at her, and stifled laughter from the other side pointed to ‘their’ guards being just as amused. Someone else – the lifer would’ve bet money on Hollamby – gave a disgusted sort of huff. “Best watch yourself, Wade, or you’ll get just that.”

Oh, piss off – Nikki opened her mouth to snap back. Then she caught sight of Helen’s anxious, warning eyes. Don’t say it. They seemed to plead. Don’t give Fenner any more ammunition, you know he’ll use it. Slender fingers threaded through hers, squeezing softly, the unspoken ‘please’ as obvious as if it had been shouted from the top of Larkhall. Taking a sharp, calming breath – for more than one reason – the brunette nodded. Instead of sarcasm, her voice came out with almost passable sincerity. “I will, Miss, I will.”

The shining pride that rose like the sun in the Scot’s face far outweighed the blow to Nikki’s own ego . . . though it certainly helped to hear Fenner’s disbelieving snort through the metal slab. A few more inane niceties, and most of the screws headed back off down the wing. Dominic stayed behind, bending so he could see the pair of them. “I’ll round up something to eat from the kitchens, Helen, Nikki.” He spoke quietly. “And I’ll make sure the night watch checks on you two from time to time, okay?”

Both women nodded, and the young guard looked chagrined. “I’m really sorry about this whole thing.”

“Don’t worry about it, Dom.” Helen glanced at Nikki, smiling faintly. “Honestly, I can think of worse ways to spend the night.”

Nikki nodded again, heart double-thumping traitorously. As Dominic said goodbye and moved off along the landing, the brunette turned her smirking grin to Helen. “Right, miss.” She teased.

“What shall we do now?”

“I think I’d miss the music.”

Nikki raised an eyebrow, towel paused halfway to her face as she glanced at the Wing Governor in the mirror. It had only been a couple hours since the officers had officially left them alone. Dom’d made good on his promise to bring them up some sandwiches; he’d also brought an extra set of pillows and the necessary toiletries before he left to help with lockdown. The food had been decent enough, if a bit more bland than she suspected the younger woman was used to. They’d eaten sitting at opposite ends of one bed, facing each other and ignoring the bedlam around them, almost like some sort of indoor picnic. Afterwards, they’d decided to wash up, Nikki gallantly insisting that Helen go first.

A lascivious smirk flitted through Nikki’s mind. Of course, the fact that it had let her watch the gorgeous Scot half-bent over the sink all the sooner had absolutely nothing to do with the gesture. But still, judging from that last comment, she seemed to have missed something while washing behind her ears. “Music?”

Leaning against the wall at the head of the bed, Helen grinned, sidetracked for a moment by the image of Nikki with water dripping from her chin and cheeks. It was strangely cute. Too bad you don’t get to see her with water dripping everywhere. Her subconscious snickered, the thought flashing through her mind too fast to register.

“If I were really an inmate.” She clarified instead, motioning toward the cell at large. “I’d miss having the chance to listen to my favorite music anytime I wanted.”

“You’d probably miss good books, too.” Nikki agreed, setting her towel aside and bracing her own back against the wall near the window. As much as she enjoyed being here with Helen, lounging next to her on the bed probably wasn’t a smart idea just now. There were limits to her self-control, after all. She folded her arms, another smile curving her mouth. The damned things had been pretty much constant since they’d been locked up in here, and she hadn’t been able to do a thing about it. Not that she wanted to, really.

“And liquor.” A bright laugh burst from Helen as she saw the shocked look on Nikki’s face. “Oh, come on, I am Scottish. I do fancy a good brew every now and then.”

The brunette’s smile turned to a smirk. “And here I thought you were a proper straight up screw.” She teased. Helen rolled her eyes and threw one of the pillows at the lifer, both of them breaking into laughter. “Yeah, well, don’t let it get around. Sneaking books to inmates, going out pub-crawling – how would it look to the Home Office, eh?”

“You go pub-crawling?” Nikki’s eyes sparkled, ready to snap back a retort, then shut her mouth suddenly when a low yell reached her ears. The shout came again, and both eyebrows rose. What are they yelling for?

“Nikki, what is it? What’s the matter?” Helen moved instinctively toward the edge of the bed, concern etched into her face and burring her voice. Realizing she’d worried the Scot, Nikki held up a calming hand. “Listen.” She commanded, turning to open the windows.

Listen? Frowning, Helen concentrated, ears proverbially perked. In all honesty, she’d been doing her best to shut out the numerous catcalls and shouts from what seemed like every corner of the wing. Not that she hadn’t heard this kind of thing before, but honestly, how did Nikki get to sleep at night with all this racket?

Then again, she might use this time for something other than sleeping. Her subconscious piped up again with gleeful relish. Helen’s mouth went dry, both at the lewd insinuation and the surprisingly vivid image it produced. My god. Heat flooded her face. What was she thinking? Imagining an inmate that way, of all the mad ideas! Besides, she very much doubted Nikki would be – pleasuring herself, the voice supplied – with Barbara lying in the next bed. The brunette had a higher sense of dignity than that, Helen was quite sure.

Never thought you’d be happy Nikki has a roommate, did’ja?

Meanwhile, the unwitting object of the Scot’s mental debate had pulled open one of the windows, putting her face close to the bars before calling back. “Yeah, Juls, I’m here!”

“Bloody well took you long enough!” Came the response, though it was Yvonne rather than either of the Julies. “Been having a bleedin’ manicure?”

“Piss off, ’vonne.” Nikki yelled, though a broad grin flashed across her face all the same. Drawn from her inner argument, Helen’s eyes sparkled affectionately as she watched that rare but familiar expression appear. The brunette obviously liked Yvonne Atkins – and as far as Helen was concerned, that was all to the good. Nikki would certainly be a calming influence on the gangster’s wife. And doesn’t that just take the cake.

“Oi, both of you shut it already!” Crystal’s voice floated up from the first floor, followed by a round of laughter that could only come from Denny and Shaz. In the returning almost-quiet, one of the Julies took up the conversation, though Helen couldn’t for the life of her tell which it was that spoke. “You doin’ okay, Nik?”

Nikki flashed a warm smile across the room, which Helen returned. “Just fine, Jules. Miss Stewart says hello.” Several delighted squeals and calls of “Hello Miss Stewart” from up and down the wing answered that statement, along with a sharp, braying laugh that had to come from a certain psychotic screw’s pet. Instantly, Yvonne’s voice cut in. “Piss off, Dockley, no one’s talking to you.”

Helen’s lips twitched, and she had to try hard not to laugh. Not that she approved, of course . . . as Wing Governor, it wouldn’t be appropriate. Still, it was a bit funny, and she did appreciate the protective gesture, especially from Yvonne. Nikki’s gaze flicked quickly in the Scot’s direction, gentle heat rushing through her at the sight of that tongue-in-cheek smile. She loved that expression so much, but even more, she adored seeing the real Helen peeking through her proper, rule-bound shell. Flashing a happy, crooked grin at the younger woman, she moved her attention back to the window. “What’s up, you lot?”

The answer came from just below, more serious than usual for the Julies. “Got some stuff, Nikki – we bagged it for ya.”

Ohhh. That explains it. She hadn’t thought that her friends would risk getting harassed by the screws for just a goodnight, but this – yeah, this made sense. They’d put together some kind of package for her while she was stuck in here, and they wanted to ‘send’ it the usual way. But they were worried about Helen being with her. So they’re gonna let me choose, eh?

This could totally blow up in her face, but – “Give me a tick!” She yelled back out the window, stepping away with a faint frown. For a few moments, there was silence as she thought hard. It all came down to trust, didn’t it? Did she trust Helen with this information? Nikki’s gaze lifted to the blonde, standing a few paces from the bed, worry warring with confusion across her face. From the guarded tones of her fellow inmates, she knew they were letting her make the choice – whatever she decided to do, they would abide by. But it really wasn’t any choice at all, was it? Every fiber of her being trusted Helen, no matter how hard she might try to pretend otherwise.

Moving over until she stood right next to the Wing Governor, Nikki bent close, knowing a guard could pass by to check on them any second. “Hel. I need you to promise me something.” She kept her voice low as wide, intent green eyes turned up to meet hers. “You can’t let any of the other screws know what you’re about to see, and you can’t use it against us. Please, promise me, Helen.”

Promise? Helen blinked, unable to turn away from the dark, coffee-colored depths of Nikki’s gaze. They were so close now each exhale from the brunette ghosted over Helen’s face, the warmth setting her pulse racing even as it sent goosebumps down her spine. The sensation was dizzying, more intoxicating than any alcohol. In that moment, Helen knew, she couldn’t have denied Nikki anything. Her own voice came out breathless, almost a whisper. “I promise.”

The low murmur probably wasn’t meant to be sultry, but it still hit Nikki deep in the gut. My god, Helen, don’t talk that way. Between the heat of their bodies’ closeness and the warmth reflected from those deep, dusky emeralds, it was enough to set the brunette on fire. Swallowing hard, she stepped away before she did something stupid, mixed longing and relief giving way to a sassy smirk as she slipped back into their usual banter. “Sit tight then, gov.”

“Cheeky sod!” Helen fought to keep the flush from showing across her fairer skin, folding her arms and fixing Nikki’s back with a mock-glare instead. Her heart was still pounding from their almost-contact, invisible electricity dancing madly up and down her flesh. What was going on? It wasn’t enough that the lifer’s touch could completely derail her thinking – now just Nikki’s nearness sent her reeling?

And don’t even think about that kiss. Again, that small voice in the back of her thoughts cut in mockingly. Her lips, so soft and sensual, caressing yours – her arms, gently holding you close – your eyes closed, that low, aching noise in your throat, your mouth tingling and wanting and following hers –

Helen physically shook herself, pushing that particular memory back into the deepest recesses of her mind. No, she wouldn’t think about that! Maybe she wasn’t engaged anymore, but she was straight! Nikki was a friend, a good friend, but nothing like that!

Speaking of which, what was Nikki doing at the window?

The brunette, meanwhile, had returned to her position at the bars. “Oi, Jules, it’s good.” She called softly. “Send it on up.”

There was a low cheer from several cells, and a moment later came the sound of one of the Julies singing – again, Helen had no idea which one, or even what song, only that it was enough to drown out most of the lingering shouts. Nikki was peering intently down and to the side, stretching out one arm into the dark night. “Almost . . . little higher . . . little higher . . . ” Her shoulder jerked suddenly, and her handsome face brightened into a triumphant grin. “Got it!”

Helen’s eyebrows lifted nearly to her hairline as the lifer stepped back toward the center of the cell, revealing her prize – a sheet-wrapped bundle, tied together in a massive knot at the top, almost too big to fit through the gap. How in the hell had they done that? Then deep green eyes focused on the knot. There was a long ‘rope’ of more torn, fraying cloth attached there, and if she wasn’t mistaken, it had started life as another bedsheet. They set up a swinger. The Scot shook her head in utter wonder. To figure out the speed of the arch, the length of the rope and the angle of the swing, in the dark, all while trying to keep the guards both inside and outside from noticing . . . it really was an impressive feat. “Do this often, do you?”

Nikki glanced up and smirked, realizing Helen’s tone wasn’t disapproval but teasing admiration. “Me? Oh no, miss.” She gave the Wing Governor her best innocent expression, voice mock-earnest. “I’m good as gold, miss, I swear it.”

It probably would have been better without the package in her hands, but the joke did the trick. Helen tossed her head back and laughed, the kind of deep, almost dirty belly laugh that always made Nikki’s entire body throb. Out on the landing, Bodybag’s furious voice rose suddenly, stamping all over the Julies’ singing. “That’s enough out of you lot! Next one I hear disturbing the other prisoners is put on report, see if I don’t!”

The song stopped, and quiet descended on the wing, broken only by the noise of the guards walking their rounds and soft murmurs from cellmates speaking to each other on the first and second floors. Helen ducked her head, looking quite amused – and just a bit wry. “I suppose it’d be bad form to admit I want to yell out, just to see what she’d do.”

Nikki burst into laughter, dropping cross-legged onto the floor and setting the package between them. “That, miss, I’d pay good money to see.” Grinning, she waited for Helen to settle across from her before going to work on the knots. Privately she wondered what on earth the Julies had sent to them. Whatever it was clinked and clanked, rustling at odd intervals. Or was it just the Julies? Was any of it meant for Helen?

She was answered a second later as the bundle opened, revealing an assortment of things – and a piece of paper resting on top, covered in Julie S.’s careful hand.

“Nikki,” the note read, “hope you and Miss Stewart are doing okay. We all know it’s tough for you two, so we put together some things for ya. The sweets are from Den and Shaz – ”

“Where on earth did they find all these?” Helen laughed, rummaging through the various plastic-wrapped packages. There was quite a haul; several different types of cookies, a postcard-size box of chocolates, and a good half dozen individual cinnamon rolls. Nikki shook her head. “Probably from the kitchens.” She remarked. They might have acted like small children most of the time, but Den and Shaz both possessed an ingenuity that never seemed to fail.

“ – the nail polish is from Crystal – ” The brunette held up two bottles in her free hand as she spoke, one a deep purple and the other a soft, dusky red, “ – and the whiskey is from Barbara and Yvonne. The smokes are from all of us, but hang out the window, would ya Nik? No need to choke out the Gov.”

A plastic water bottle was unearthed from the mound of snacks, and Helen’s slow, astonished grin as she sniffed the opening left no doubt as to what it contained. Setting it aside, the blonde tugged out a package of cigarettes, then looked up at her ‘cellmate’ and raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me there’s more?”

Having skipped ahead some, Nikki nodded, laughing as she spilled the sweets out onto the concrete floor and straightened the bedsheet that had held them. Helen stared at the large cloth with a puzzled expression. “Nik, what – why did they – ”

“We wanted to send you some music, but we couldn’t, so Barbara helped us make a Twister mat instead. There’s no spinner, so we made up a list of moves – all ya have to do is flip a coin to see who goes first.” Finding a second sheet of paper folded in the bounty, the lifer plucked it free and passed it to Helen. As the Scot scanned the offering, Nikki finished, “Try to sleep well, and we’ll see you in the morning.”

Shaking her head, the brunette chuckled softly, amused and rather awed by her friends’ gifts. She knew at least Barbara had already guessed her not-so-well-hidden secret love for the Wing Governor; probably Yvonne and Crystal had their suspicions as well, especially after the row they’d had and her stint on the block. Twister and whiskey, of all the possibilities. “Mad, the lot of them.” She muttered almost under her breath. Oh, she could just imagine all the ways for this to blow up in her face.

Helen, on the other hand, found herself completely and utterly touched. “They’re – this is so sweet.” Her mouth curved into a soft smile, she trailed light fingertips over the small treasure trove as though they were priceless gems, eyes bright like a child’s on Christmas. Then a sudden worry flicked across her face, and her wandering hand closed unconsciously over Nikki’s. “But how will we get it out of here before they find it tomorrow?”

Not Fenner or the guards, or even a ‘you’ getting the contraband out while Helen looked the other way. No, it was ‘we’ and ‘they,’ straight from the heart. Nikki’s own heart leapt, understanding more than the words themselves could ever convey. In that simple sentence, Helen had united herself with the prisoners – she was determined to protect this precious secret, to prove she was worthy of their trust. Of Nikki’s trust. Gently, the lifer squeezed the slender fingers in her grasp, stroking the soft skin beneath her thumb. “Trash goes down the toilet. Everything else, we’ll bundle up and drop into the garden.” She explained. “Someone will pick it up and take care of it before the guards see.”

“Oh.” Helen’s voice came out slightly breathy again, her sense of proper conduct unable to stop the faint sigh that escaped her lips. The contrast of satin smoothness and gardening calluses, the warmth and gentle pressure of Nikki’s touch – it all felt so incredibly good. Nothing she’d ever felt could come close to this sensation, the tingling heat that surged through her veins and left her breathless from just the glide of skin on skin.

A slice of Heaven in the pits of Hell. Oddly enough, the thought wasn’t as automatically horrifying as it should have been. Maybe it was the glimmer of trust and humanity wrapped in a frayed old bedsheet, the reminder that the women under her care were women after all; maybe it was the reality of prison, where one had to find good things wherever they might be. Or maybe it was the plain, simple fact that she couldn’t think of Nikki as just an inmate anymore. With that brash mix of sarcasm and sensitivity, fierce loyalty and strong, stubborn determination, the lifer had moved from a prisoner under her care to an ally and close friend before Helen ever realized the change. Even with their arguments, their opposing sides and natural tendency to butt heads, there was no one the Scot counted on or trusted more, inside Larkhall or out. Not that I’ve ever told her that. I wonder if she has any idea how much I really care about her.

The voice in the back of her thoughts came quiet, almost solemn. Do you know how much you care?

Shaking herself slightly, the blonde grinned over at her cellmate, worry and lingering confusion swept away with the sight of their heaped treasures. “Well, let’s get to it, then.” Green eyes sparkled with mischievous challenge, brightening even further at Nikki’s answering smile.

"Past time for some proper fun, I think."

The Darkness in Their Eyes

2008-07-06T16:55:47Z

A bit out of left-field, but I figured I'd prove I'm a) not dead and b) gearing up for massive IDF goodness. ^^ Darkness is a fanfiction sequel to one of the most awesome anime ever, Noir. For those of you who've never seen it, there's both Wiki and IMD pages for the series, and probably some Google stuff as well. It's not strictly necessary to know much about the story to get the sequel - it's meant as a stand-alone, and there's a bit of a recap here in the first chapter - but it'll probably help.

The original story came to mind while doing research for Le Deux Retour (a different, webcomic sequel) and started taking note of the "True Noir" eyestyle. This particular design is the way Chloe's eyes are always shown, and Kirika's eyes are done in this style when she appears in her "True Noir" mindset, especially near the end of the series, like her battle with Mirelle at the Manor. I always found this signal of Kirika's mental state interesting, and after hearing Mirelle's "I have a little Noir in me, too" in the last episode, I wondered if she had a similar situation and what the trigger would be. After watching all the episodes again, I found several shots of Mirelle with the "True Noir" style eyes - and wouldn't you know it, pretty much all of them happen when Kirika is in physical or mental danger that doesn't relate to their job, or when she's faced with Chloe, her 'rival' for Kirika's affections. And since the raging "are they, aren't they" debate is even encouraged by the creators themselves . . . well, I just had to spread the love. ^^

WARNING: Because it is set after the original series, there are spoilers for pretty much the entire ending.
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The Darkness in Their Eyes
Fandom, Pairing: Noir, Mirelle / Kirika
Summary: After the insanity of the Manor, Mirelle and Kirika are finally beginning to put their lives back together again. But nothing is ever easy for the worlds most deadly pair of assassins - especially when it comes to matters of the heart. With old feelings and new enemies stirring in the shadows, the Maidens who Govern Death will be forced to confront everything they thought they'd left behind. Can their bond survive another test of fate?

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Kssssshhhhh –

Mirelle Bouquet – one half of the legendary assassin team known as Noir – stood naked beneath the shower’s warm, thundering spray, luxuriating in the steamy heat that plastered her golden mane to her back and flushed her pale skin to a delicate pink. Although it was late spring here in bustling Paris, the air still had a faint chill until early afternoon, and the nineteen-year-old Corsican enjoyed her warmth when given the choice. Long, hot showers, like shopping, were one of the few guilty pleasures she allowed herself. They also gave her time to relax, unwind and think.

Tilting her face up toward the showerhead, Mirelle closed her eyes, letting the water stream down her lean, athletic body. There was certainly no shortage of things to think about. It had been a month and a half since she and her partner, Kirika Yuumura, had limped away from the rain of blood and gristly death that had marked the end of Le Grand Retour, their final trial as candidates worthy to bear the name Noir. The end of a pilgrimage to the past they had begun nearly a year before, an ending to a dark, violent chapter in both their lives. In the short space of time since then, there had been no end to the dozens of things that had to be taken care of, set up or mended.

Some of them had been easy, like the first step of seeing to their wounds. Eyes still closed, the Corsican assassin fingered the two thin, scarred lines where Altena’s glancing bullets had burned their marks into the flesh of her left shoulder. Although her more serious injuries – the knife wounds she’d received from Chloe – had already been well-bandaged by Kirika, the bullet burns had still needed to be dressed once they returned to the Jeep. Of course, her more pressing concern had been Kirika’s gunshot wound. For a few heart-stopping moments, Mirelle had actually feared the bullet might have damaged her intestines or other internal organs, but thankfully, it had missed most of the major trouble areas. Still, blood loss and infection had been an extreme worry.

Mirelle shivered slightly in spite of the water’s heat, remembering the feel of Kirika’s lifeblood oozing past her fingertips as she applied pressure and dressed the injury. Luckily, her assassin’s instincts had convinced her to stock their transport with as many first-aid supplies as she could gather. After some quick, careful cleanup and a change of fresh clothes, she’d settled her partner in the passenger seat with several soft blankets and begun the long drive back home to civilization.

They’d arrived in Paris after three a.m. the next night, exhausted and aching, but relieved to see familiar sights again. The first stop had been to a small, well-equipped clinic run by one of her ‘doctor’ contacts, a discreet man in his late twenties named Patrick who hadn’t so much as blinked when they showed up. He’d patched the two of them back together with calm professionalism – Kirika first, under Mirelle’s watchful gaze – then packed up a bag of supplies and made sure they would be safe getting home. The apartment had come soon after. Mirelle smiled faintly, reaching for the shampoo as she remembered the surprise on Kirika’s worn face as she limped slowly inside the door. “You – cleaned up.” She’d spoken quietly, reddish-brown eyes scanning the apartment. Mirelle hadn’t been able to suppress a smile, tired and drained as she was. The day between her first meeting with Remy Breffort and her decision to go to the Manor had been a long, lonely one, mind and emotions shattered nearly beyond repair. Cleaning the chaos left by the Knights of Paris had been thoughtless busy work, something to keep her hands busy while her head was elsewhere. The fix had been far from perfect – the long terrace windows had still been shot out, the walls and pool table riddled with bullet holes, and both their orchid and the customized computer had met tragic ends. Still, it had been home, and as the sun showed a golden hint over the horizon, it had been enough for them.

Mirelle’s small smile turned to a wry smirk as she leaned back under the spray, rinsing suds from her thick mane. Those first few days had been rougher than even she expected. Kirika had developed a slight fever, and Mirelle had spent most of her hours watching over her partner, placing cool cloths over her forehead, changing her bandages and feeding her the antibiotics Patrick had prescribed. Any free time had been spent ordering replacements for their destroyed things and reestablishing her underworld connections, getting in touch with her contacts to find out just what was going on. She’d been surprised to find out that Soldats seemed content to leave them alone, at least for the time being. Breffort had actually put out the word – which Paula had carefully and faithfully reported over the secured phone – that he himself would welcome any friendly contact, but as long as Noir left Soldats alone, the High Council was prepared to do the same. Mirelle hadn’t wanted to believe him, but she hadn’t had much of a choice at the time. And it appeared that he was as good as a word, if the last few weeks were anything to judge by.

Still, that had been one of their easiest problems, and the two partners hadn’t spent their time idly. After a few days of long, thoughtful conversation, both of them had come to the decision to stay as assassins for hire, albeit with a few more restrictions on their client lists. It wasn’t a first choice, or even a second, but Mirelle and Kirika had admitted to each other that there were few other options in the matter. They had spent their entire lives as lethal killers, the very best in their field, with deadly instincts trained deep into mind and body alike. Going to a normal school, even taking a normal job was out of the question. At best, it would be a ticking clock, at worst, a powder keg. How long before one of them made a mistake in the heat of the moment and killed an innocent, or one of their enemies discovered their ‘regular’ lives and came after them? Shaking the water from her face, Mirelle laughed wryly to herself. They just weren’t equipped to deal with normal life in the light, as strange as that sounded. So they would stay as Noir, angels of death in the shadows, dealing with their bloody, sometimes-monstrous heritage together.

Together. Sighing, the lean young woman reached for the soap. There was still a faint, lingering strangeness to the idea that she was still part of pair, that she still had her other half to guard her back and for her to protect. There was no real question that she cared for Kirika; she had known it even before she’d stood in the graveyard, the sky weeping with heaven’s own tears, and found herself unable to pull the trigger. She’d simply never acknowledged the feeling to herself. Not until she’d faced that fiery abyss, her dark-haired partner hanging from her shaking arm, and the thought of living without Kirika had been too desolate to bear.

In her own turn, Kirika had shyly admitted during their talks that she couldn’t imagine living away from Mirelle, either. Scrubbing at her arms with a washcloth, the blonde assassin snorted with amusement. They were certainly an odd, unlikely pair – the small, dark-haired Japanese girl, reserved and quiet, and the tall, golden-maned Corsican with her sharp tongue, incredible confidence and love of fashion – but in her heart, Mirelle knew they complimented and completed each other in ways no other could match.

Not that they were lovers, or any nonsense like that. The emotions of Kirika’s final letter, the scene in the graveyard, Mirelle’s own race to the Manor and refusing to let her partner fall, all the sacrifices and pain – none of it had come up in any of their talks. Pushing back wet bangs where they stuck to her cleaned face, Mirelle’s eyes darkened slightly. They hadn’t talked about it because there was nothing to talk about. Those were just the things one did for their partner, for their other half.

And if you try hard enough, commented a snide voice in her subconscious, you can almost hear the river in Egypt.

Of course, they had made some changes. Mirelle’s full lips curled up in a pleased grin as she poured some lilac-scented conditioner into her palms. With Kirika cooped up in bed until her wound healed, the blonde Corsican had taken to educating her partner in non-death subjects with the same relish she showed with her own hobbies. So far, the petite Asian had made her way through several of the classics, as well as a few other, more modern titles Mirelle had searched out. She was also learning about fashion, with somewhat mixed results, and cooking, which was turning out quite well. Though even better, at least in Mirelle’s eyes, was her renewed interest in drawing and painting. She’d filled up several sketchbooks already, mostly with studies and various still-life scenes in pencil, all of them presented in shy pride to her partner for comment and approval. Actually, Mirelle thought that part was rather sweet, though she’d never admit it. She made a point of looking at each piece individually, these little pencil sketches that showed off the world as Kirika saw it.

The sarcastic little voice popped up in her head again, smirking. You’d love seeing them even if they were the ugliest doodles in the world, as long as they belonged to your little Kirika.

Mirelle pointedly ignored that thought, tilting her head back so the water could pour down her chest and over her shoulders. A contented sigh escaped her. Their lives might not be usual in any sense of the word, but it was finally their own, without any puppet masters hidden in the shadows to manipulate their every move. The world was finally normal again, as normal as it would ever be for the two of them, and for that, she was grateful. Bending, she twisted the faucet knob, turning off the shower. We really made it.

“Mireyu?”

She smiled. As long as we have each other, we can survive.

Is it a law that you have to be lesbian to write Femslash?

2007-09-14T01:27:05Z

Okay, I know it's a weird title / subject / whatever, but it's something currently bugging me, so I figured I'd post and see what people thought. Not that I haven't wondered something to this effect for a while, but it came to a head as I read yet another rant on YouTube about "all you queers watching queers" in a Bad Girls vid commentary. (this post follows my usual reaction to said comments - lots of derogatory, insulting remarks about the poster and specific-finger-pointing at the monitor)

So is it some sort of unwritten law that one has to be bisexual or lesbian to write real femslash? And if not, how many straight people do write femslash?

As far as I'm concerned, it's the writer's ability to write and the realistic-ness that creates good fanfiction. Hell, I may not like Emma/Shalimar from Mutant X or the rampant SVU and CSI pairs, but I've happily devoured fics for said couples because the writing was spectacular. The same applies for music videos and such - if it's well done, I could care less what gender or sexuality the couple is. But I've noticed that the minute I mention femslash to anyone, the automatic assumption seems to be that only bisexual women, lesbians or sicko-men write that kind of thing.

I suppose I should clarify a few things before I start getting flames. Yes, I write femslash - Mirelle/Kirika, Rachel/Ivy, Xena/Gabrielle, Nikki/Helen and Barbara/Helena are my personal favorite pairings, and I've read good stuff for everything from Voyager to Murder in Suburbia and everything in between. And yes, I'm completely straight. As far as that goes, I could care less about a person's RL sexuality - as my best friend so memorably refers to it, I "may not be gay, but [I'm] definitely bendy." None of it bothers me. My personal reason for writing femslash (aside from loving the particular pairings) is because I can't write a hetero sex-scene without getting embarrassed enough to pass out. Femslash doesn't do that to me. xD

*reads back over the post* Gah, it sounds like a rant, though I didn't mean it to be. I'm just honestly curious.

Edit add: For anyone wondering, I am female. xD

I got TAGGED!!! glee

2007-09-13T06:49:46Z

I got tagged, whee! xDDD Lame, I know, but these amuse me. Copied and pasted from outsidethebx, 'cause she's ma tagger. (does that sound wrong to anyone else? I should NOT be doing this at 11pm in femslash-smut mood.)

ANNNNYYYYYWAYZ -

Who sings lead vocals on the songs contained on the soundtrack to the biographical movie of your life?

You can name up to 5 artists.

Also, who plays you?

Mine:

1. Mariah Carrey (yes, it's lame, I know)
2. Martina McBride (Rune is a bonified country music geek, yeppers)
3. Within Temptation / Evanescence (they're NOT identical bands, but they sound similar, and have similar songs)
4. Nickelback (first male anything on the list. Kinda sad.)
5. Toby Keith (for the nerd / awkward moments, mostly. xxD)

Who plays me?

Shoooooot, this is tough. Simone Lahib and Renee O'connor are close in (glamourized) looks, but too much older and with too short hair. Probably Emma Watson for someone more my age. *snickers*

Witching Hour, Bloodied Moon (Rachel/Ivy)

2007-08-21T18:40:03Z

I blame ralst for this one. xD Honestly, though, it was written quite a while ago - I just haven't finished it yet. For those that don't know, Rachel and Ivy are from a series of utterly fantastic novels by Kim Harrison, nicknamed "the Hollows." For those wondering, this story takes place after the fourth book, A Fistful of Charms, so if you haven’t read up to that point, certain things might not make sense to you. All spellings and happenings are referenced to make sure they’re spelled / done correctly. And it is a Rachel / Ivy romance, albeit a bit heavy on Kisten’s relations to the two of them. No, the author does not advocate threesomes, these three are just too cute to pass up. (snicker) It’s also written in third person, ‘cause my first-person skills are a bit rusty.

As a sidenote, the bit about waffles is an homage to the end of “Poetry Feelings,” a very awesome oneshot Birds of Prey fic by the incredible writer Fembuck. It made me giggle out loud, and it sounded very much like a conversation Rachel and Ivy would have.

Now - the story! *glee*

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It was the same dream all over again.

Rachel Morgan groaned softly and rolled over in bed, cotton sheets mussed around her as she fought the images rising into her mind like a slow, dark tide. Curly red hair shone dusky silver in the moonlight, strong, delicate face etched with slight anger and an even slighter hint of fear. Even asleep, she refused to let the creeping feelings overtake her. This assault on her senses could not happen again, she wouldn’t let it.

Except that it was, and it did, and she still couldn’t stop it at all. The dream was already sucking her down, enveloping her consciousness in a veil of hazy fever heat. Emerald green eyes hidden behind long ginger lashes fluttered and shifted restlessly, thoughts falling into familiar, dreaded patterns. And the rest of the world fell away –

She stood close against Ivy’s body, cradled against the vampire, already lost in a high of ecstasy and warmth. Ivy had bitten her, was drinking from her, velvet mouth worrying gently at her throat with a soft sound of delight and wonder. Long fingers slipped under the hem of her shirt, palm cool where it brushed against her skin. Rachel shuddered, eyes fluttering closed. “Oh – ”

“Rachel?” Ivy’s gray silk voice was low, a dark heat of question. She was obviously trying to be so careful, treading lightly on this new ground between them. Her lips brushed against the broken skin of Rachel’s neck as she spoke, sending another heady pulse of desire rippling through the witch’s veins. “Are you alright, Rachel?”

“Ye-essss.” Rachel hissed in a breath, fingers clenching tightly at the vampire’s shoulders. She could hardly speak, hardly think – she only knew that Ivy was there, that Ivy was happy and vibrant and sharing more with her than she could ever find words for. Ivy’s heartbeat echoed through her, a thundering rush of need, longing and pleasure. Hell, she could almost taste the sweetness on her tongue. It made all the fear she’d felt before seem very stupid. More than stupid. Her voice came slow and inviting, laced with ecstasy. “Oh Ivy.”

Ivy gave a soft, slightly startled sound, a sigh of pure joy nearly lost as she nuzzled at Rachel’s neck. Her hand slipped gently around the redheaded young woman’s hip, fingertips smooth and silken against bare skin. Rachel whimpered, almost painfully, pressing herself closer to the taller vampire. Wanting to feel the blazing heat she knew was buried deep in her partner’s lean, muscled frame, to give the other young woman the protection and love she so craved. Ivy’s arms curled tighter around her in response, one tracing light circles at the small of the witch’s back, the other stroking Rachel’s thick red hair. Her mouth pulled deliciously at Rachel’s throat, fangs like silver slivers that made the redhead moan softly. Breath ragged, Rachel let her back arch, mind hazy and teetering. She knew Ivy could hold her weight entirely, but in truth, she didn’t care. They were on the edge of some great chasm, some wondrous change, and just one more thrill –

A hot, slow stroke of Ivy’s tongue made her knees weak, and something deep inside her finally snapped. Rachel’s fingers shot upward, tangling in those glorious dark tresses; muscles bunched, dragging the vampire’s head up. The kiss was neither chaste nor gentle. It was hard, almost bruising, a fierce duel of twisting lips and dominating tongues. Ivy growled deep in her throat. “Rachel – I can’t – I can’t stop.” Her words were breathy, a bit panicked, full of thinly-veiled need. Her eyes were half closed, solid black in instinct.

“Don’t stop.” Rachel knew her voice was heavy, sultry, and she didn’t care. Just the sound of her partner’s low, snarling tones made the muscles in the pit of her stomach clench tight. Ivy had the blood she needed, at least some of it, but she was still so totally vulnerable, lost and wanting. And Rachel could fix it, wanted to fix it, to take care of her beautiful partner in ways she knew only she could. To have Ivy take care of her. The witch pressed her mouth again to Ivy’s, slightly softer. “Don’t stop, Ivy. I’m here, and I’m staying here.”

Now it was Ivy’s turn to moan, the rush of air from her soft lips achingly free. This kiss was passionate, sweet, a gentle warmth that settled deep and throbbing in both their bodies. Rachel’s hips shifted, shaky with the pheromones that already rode the air, her nerves exploding again in pleasure as she found a strong thigh between hers. Blindly, she curled her fingers in the fabric of Ivy’s shirt, burrowing beneath it a moment later to stroke the pale, silken flesh. The vampire gave a low, rumbling whimper, clinging tighter. Rachel knew without seeing it that Ivy’s eyes fluttered shut, her heartbeat picking up beneath the redhead’s lips as the witch slipped her mouth down that lovely neck. Her mind was blanking out, drowning in the red heat of ecstasy settling in around her – dimly, she realized Ivy’s long fingers were tugging at her shirt, freeing the buttons with a soft urgency – that her own hands were roaming across Ivy’s bare back, her senses overwhelmed by the deep, ashwood scent that was Ivy and Ivy alone –

---------------------------------------------------

Mornings, Rachel decided firmly, officially sucked.

Even if it was really more like afternoon.

“Hey, Ivy, do we have any waffles?” Annoyed, the lean redheaded witch shoved aside wrapped packages of chicken and a container of spaghetti sauce, looking for the slightly-soggy yellow cardboard and plastic-packaged goodness. She knew there’d been half a box the last time she looked, and they couldn’t have eaten it all since then. Where the hell was the box?

“Do you see any waffles?” Ivy’s voice yelled back calmly, echoing down the hall from her bathroom. The door was cracked a bit, shower steam spilling into the hall to drift like lazy, fog-borne ghosts; the vent fan whirred busily, its hum nearly drowning out the smaller buzz of several pixie children zooming playfully about the ceiling. She’d been in there for nearly a full half hour, but the redhead didn’t much care. Her irritated thoughts were company enough.

“No.” Rachel eyed a slightly dented tub of Rocky Road, then the open bottle of chocolate syrup someone had left out on the counter, wondering just how much trouble she’d be in if she decided to eat out of the container. Icy air flowed over pale skin, raising goosebumps on her bare arms. She was dressed fairly conservative today, in a dark blue, scoop-necked T-shirt, low-slung hip-hugging jeans, and a pair of her favorite leather ass-kicking boots. “I don’t see any.”

“Then we don’t have any waffles.” The vampire replied, almost deadpan. Rachel knew without seeing her friend was rolling her eyes. Perched in the bowl of the hanging ladle above the island, Jenks snorted, wings rubbing together as he watched her rummage through the frozen foods. “Jeez, Rache, dumb much?”

“Go Turn yourself, Jenks.” Grumbling under her breath, the redhead pushed back and shoved the freezer door shut. Annoyed, she yanked open the fridge, snagging the syrup from the countertop and stuffing it back inside before slamming that closed, too. Jenks just laughed, sending a sparkling shower of dust shifting downward. “Guess somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

Favoring her pixie backup with as much of a glare as she could muster, Rachel turned back to search the cupboards, mouth set in a slight frown. She wasn’t particularly hungry; in fact, her stomach was twisting more than usual, making her feel a little bit sick. But preparing food – or even looking for it – gave her an excuse to be moving and busy. Moving always helped her think, even if her thoughts were running in circles.

This was the fourth time in a week she’d had the same dream, and it was beginning to wear on her nerves. All of them had slight changes – in the beginning, it was still in the van, for one thing – but the basic content was all the same. Herself and Ivy. Together. That way.

Just thinking about it was enough to make Rachel blush a bit, cheeks and the tips of her ears pinking as she began her search all over again in the cupboards. She’d known things would change between them once Ivy bit her – hell, she’d known it when she made the offer. But she’d never expected there to be anything like this. Home, trust, friendship, even blood was now shareable with Ivy. Her body and her willpower, on the other hand, those were a different bag all together. Absolutely not for sale. The same reason she’d sleep with Kisten, but not share blood. Keeping those things separate made it her choice, kept it from being any deeper. Of course, there was also the fact that to Kisten, blood and sex weren’t anywhere near as closely connected.

But the dreams destroyed all her carefully-built barriers, crumbling them to dust. It was like normal, rational thought was impossible, consumed in a rush of warmth and physical sensations. When she dreamed, there was no resistance, no hesitation or fear. Just herself, Ivy, and the tug of something tied between them.

– Ivy’s fingertip trailing down her torso, sliding between her breasts to hook into her belt and bring her close for another kiss –

Shaking herself, Rachel flushed harder and glowered among the shelves, finally digging out a package of crackers and giving up her search for anything more appealingly edible. Thumping down into her chair, she yawned and tugged vaguely at the clear plastic wrap. “Stupid wrapper.”

A soft clatter of wings alerted her as Jenks circled her head. “Hey, Rache, are you okay? You don’t look so good.”

She sighed. “I’m fine, Jenks.” A faint grin touched her lips as her eyes flicked up to that familiar six-inch form. Once again, she noticed how much more potent his hands-on-hips pose looked now that he wasn’t human-sized. “Just had a bad night.”

“Poor baby. Maybe tonight Kisten can keep you company.” Jenks smirked for a few seconds, and she swatted at him, pulling apart the wrapper to snag one of the crackers. That was Jenks for you, she thought in amusement. Concerned one minute, pain in the ass the next. Yawning again, she reached for a full coffee mug sitting on the table. Maybe some caffeine would help her think straight.

She should have known better. The coffee was ice cold.

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*snicker* Oh yes, this is a crossover of sorts - or rather, there will be original characters in it a bit later. And for those expecting fluff, you should know that I enjoy putting characters through emotional, mental, physical and often literal hell. While there may be sweetness and some camp, there will also be major angst and baggage. So consider yourself warned. ^^

Lions and Dragons, Pt. 2

2007-08-12T22:29:45Z

*shakes head* Gabrielle, how many times do you have to get trampled before you realize NOT to say that? I do so love this next part – mostly because Meressa is one of my favorite characters, and she isn’t as prominent in the novel itself. Thanks for the earlier comments. ^^ Oh! And for the record, the main body of the story – everything that isn’t a flashback or dream sequence, etc. – is set after the events of Chakram and diverges from canon at that point.

And again, on to the story!
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“Xena, do you have any idea where we are?”

Brushing a thick lock of dark hair from her forehead, the warrior glanced over her shoulder, hiding a smirk. “In the forest?” She deadpanned. “At least, I think that’s what the trees and the rocks and the wild animal noises mean. Or did you mean ‘on a road?’ Honestly, Gabrielle, I thought you knew how to pay attention to these things by now.”

“Oh, very funny.” Striding a few paces behind, Gabrielle rolled her eyes, fixing her partner with a look. “Careful, people might start mistaking you for the bard.”

“My singing would be an improvement.” Xena playfully shot back, one hand lifting to catch the pebble her bard had scooped up and flung at her head. Sapphire eyes sparkled as she dropped the missile to the side of the path. Sometimes Gabrielle was too easy to tease. “But I think we’re about a day and a half outside of Torus – this trail cut about a full day off our travel time, and we got through the pass early.”

“So tomorrow . . . a warm bath?” Gabrielle sounded hopeful. Not that she would dream about complaining – she hadn’t done that for quite a while, and certainly wasn’t going to start again now – but Xena knew her beloved sometimes missed the creature comforts. As much as the warrior tried to make and keep things comfortable on the road, foraging for food and washing in cold streams weren’t easy for even the hardiest of souls. Xena fell back a few steps until they were side by side once more, then nodded, grinning as Gabrielle’s face lit up. Oh, how she loved making her bard smile.

Of course, you’d love to see her do more than smile – The smug mental voice came with its own alluring visual of Gabrielle’s head thrown back in the firelight, sweat shimmering across fair, smooth skin, eyes screwed shut and full lips parted on a pant of pure ecstasy. Xena almost stumbled, heat jolting straight to her loins at the image. Gods, not again. She cursed to herself. Why did this have to keep happening now, of all times?

Not that she hadn’t had these kind of thoughts before. In all honesty, she’d finally realized she was in love with Gabrielle more than a year ago, after losing her to Dahok and that miserable bitch Hope. Before that, she’d loved the little blonde, cared for her with loyalty and affection beyond any other person in the world, but she’d stubbornly resisted examining the depth of her feelings. It had taken watching her best friend fall into the fiery pit to bring everything into focus. The naïve village girl that had wormed her way into the heart of a washed-up old warlord had matured to become a strong, confident young woman, with the courage and tenacity to stand up for what she believed in and an innate, charming goodness that could warm the soul. It was a package that Xena had fallen hopelessly in love with. As if anyone could have resisted her.

But the same part of the warrior’s heart that had bowed to the inevitable and admitted her love had also ruthlessly, insistently pointed out that it would be a cold day in Tartarus before the bard ever felt the same way. And that even if – by some Gods’-granted miracle – she did, it wasn’t fair for her to be put in such danger just for a redemption that probably wouldn’t happen anyway. Look at what had happened in Britannia and Rome! No, she would not lose the one pure thing in her life like that.

Shaking off that depressing thought, Xena glanced at the young woman at her side, realizing her friend had launched into a cheerful description of the market they’d heard about in Torus and all the things she planned on bargining for. It had been quite a while since Gabrielle rambled on like this, but in all honesty, the tall brunette was forced to admit she’d missed it. Of all that the younger woman had lost – and given up – for her newfound maturity, this light-hearted prattling had been one of the most treasured.

“Hey, Xena, did you hear that?”

Xena nodded, frowning slightly. After a long conversation about new supplies and how nice it would be to see Ephiny again, the bard had launched into a rendition of one of Xena’s favorite old stories to pass the time. That had been almost two hours ago. They’d been on this particular road since the pass, and aside from a rabbit that had hopped across their trail and nearly into Argo’s hooves, it had been utterly quiet. At least, until now.

Gabrielle tilted her head, brow furrowed. “It sounds like metal jingling. And – men laughing?”

“It’s coming from up there.” The warrior motioned toward a downward slope up ahead, where the hard-packed earth beneath their feet dipped down to join the lower path before both continued on in the direction of the town. “Let’s go see what’s up.”

It didn’t take long to see the cause of the racket. A few yards from where the paths joined, a band of rough-looking men stood blocking the roadway, their unkempt appearance and menacing air fairly typical of most bandits. None looked like they’d seen a barber – or a wash basin – in any number of months; the weapons belted at their waists were scratched and dirty, while their body odor and stained leather clothing combined to create a truly disgusting stench noticeable even from where Xena and Gabrielle stood. There were a round dozen of the smelly brutes, all in all, nothing about them out of the ordinary.

What was out of the ordinary was their erstwhile victim. Several feet in front of the thugs – between them and the newly-arrived pair – was a young woman hardly older than twenty, a thick mane of long, incredibly dark red locks falling in shimmering waves down her back. Tall for her age, lean and well-muscled, her skin appeared to have been naturally fair at one point, though it had been tanned golden-brown by long exposure to the sun. Dressed in a deep brown version of warrior’s leathers and travel-dusted boots, she had a well-worn rucksack resting in the dirt at her feet. Even stranger, in spite of their numbers and the fact that most of them topped her by more than a foot, she seemed completely unafraid.

“You’re kiddin’ me, girl.” A massive ogre of a man standing in front of the group hawked and spit to the side, ignoring the scattering of ribald chuckles from his friends while he scratched at the scattered stubble across his chin. He was obviously the leader. “You really think you could beat all’o us?”

“Think?” The girl’s voice, ever so slightly accented, almost dripped with sarcasm. “Bet that’s a word you don’t have to hear often. Did you come up with that question all on your own?”

The man frowned, apparently trying to puzzle out her insult with mixed results. One of his buddies glanced up and noticed Xena and Gabrielle coming from the top of the rise, poking his ‘leader’ hard in the shoulder. “Hey, Thaddeus! Look, more meat!”

All attention immediately turned to the arriving newcomers. Ignoring the greedy, lustful gazes of the bandits, Xena focused on the young woman, who glanced back over her shoulder in surprise and a flash of what seemed almost like alarm. The oval-shaped face that met the warrior’s inspection was really quite pretty; full lips, delicate cheekbones, a thin nose, curved reddish eyebrows and long-lashed eyes of the purest green Xena had ever seen outside of Gabrielle’s. Those eyes looked over the Warrior Princess and her bard, noting the weapons and toned muscles beneath their fighters’ gear before flicking up to their faces. A moment later, the alarm she’d shown had vanished, replaced by a slow, quirking smile. Whoever she was, she liked what she saw.

Thaddeus, meanwhile, had begun leering widely, showing off several gaps between his crooked, yellowing teeth. “Well well, lookie what we got here, boys. Not just one, but three pretty ladies, and a horse!”

“Bet they’ve got some good money on them, Thad.” Piped up another of the thugs.

The young woman rolled her eyes, glancing over at Xena and Gabrielle. “Anyone else surprised they can count that high?” She asked, tone utterly casual. Gabrielle snickered half under her breath, eyes sparkling while Xena smirked. “It is a rare trick.” The warrior agreed, just as calm and amused. All three women shared a silent moment of complete understanding. The redhead didn’t have to ask for help, and Xena and Gabrielle didn’t have to offer; in the space of a fighter’s instant, they had become allies against these idiots.

Apparently oblivious to the fact that they were being mocked, the soon-to-be-pounded creeps preened and shifted, a half-circle of unwashed blades and bully-strong muscle. Thaddeus hooked his thumbs in his belt, chuckling darkly. “We’ll take the horse, your purses, your weapons . . . and that pretty little toy on your waist, sweet thing.”

Her chakram, a toy? This was a whole new level of stupidity. Xena’s eyebrow rose almost to her hairline, and her bard choked on a burst of helpless laughter. The young redhead smirked, shaking her head. “If that’s the best you can do, Thad, you’ve got a long way before you even rate average.”

Now that the ridicule was obvious, the band of thugs frowned, ugly faces contorted further into glowering menace. “Maybe you di’n’t hear me.” Thaddeus growled. “We ain’t gonna give you a choice.”

The young woman’s own eyebrow lifted, an expression of mock-disbelief on her face. “No choice? Oh, how cruel!” She snorted derisively. “You guys were outclassed before. Your odds really haven’t improved in the last few minutes, in case you’re stupid and blind.”

“Outclassed?” The bandit who’d mentioned money sounded smug. “There’s twelve of us, and only three of you.”

Gabrielle’s lean frame twitched with laughter, flashing that adorable smirk that always made Xena want to grin – and kiss her senseless. “Isn’t twelve of nothing still nothing?” The blonde whispered to her partner. Xena chuckled, one of those sensual sounds that made Gabrielle’s stomach flip. Oh, how she loved making Xena laugh.

“I said outclassed, not outnumbered.” With a pause, the redhead glanced back, giving the two women behind her a brief but thorough look-over before turning back to the thugs. “I’m pretty sure one of us is worth at least four of you, easy.”

Thaddeus’ face turned an absolutely fascinating shade of purple. “What?!?!?!?” He practically howled. Xena’s gaze sharpened, Gabrielle’s battle-honed muscles tensing minutely as both caught the signs. This was going to get physical fast –

In front of them, only the faintest shift in the young woman’s stance showed she felt the same. Reddish brows quirked upward, lips curled with a smirk of amused satisfaction. “Stupid, blind, and deaf. What a combination.”

“Bitch!” With a roar, the massive man lunged forward, drawing the nicked and scratched blade from his belt. For a split-second, everything seemed to freeze. Then the redhead dodged swiftly to one side, arm rising as little more than a flash of motion, and the heel of her palm slammed hard into the thug’s nose. Xena winced internally, knowing how badly that particular move hurt. The sharp rasp of cartilage popping broke the stalemate; the rest of the bandits charged their ‘victims’ and both bard and warrior leapt to the redhead’s defense, prompting instant bedlam.

Stiff-arming the first fool that reached for her, Xena sent him spinning off into one of his friends, then ducked a whistling blade that missed her head by a hair and kicked the owner of the weapon face-first into the dirt. One of the slightly-smarter thugs rushed her, trying for a flying tackle around her midsection. Unfortunately for him, she wasn’t anywhere close to a normal opponent; flipping into the air, she landed neatly behind the hapless lug, taking him out with hardly a pause. A snapping uppercut flattened the next loser, and she chanced a glance at her two companions.

Gabrielle, of course, was holding her own, just finishing up a front split-kick that knocked her opponent out cold. Sai twirling between her fingers, she laid out another bandit with a blow from the hilt and flashed a dazzling grin in Xena’s direction. Lightning sparked in the warrior’s veins at the heat of that expression, even in the middle of a fight. Unable to help herself, Xena grinned back. As much as the young bard had lost in her maturity, it was nice to know Gabrielle could take care of herself. And watching her in action is certainly a treat.

Turning her attention back to the redheaded girl, Xena blinked, surprise washing over her for a moment before her grin widened. The young woman moved like a master fighter, toned muscles rippling along her lean frame as she teased and taunted her enemies. A pair of arm-length daggers flashed in her hands; Xena remembered seeing the hilts sticking from the sides of her boots, sheathed just as Gabrielle’s sais were. Although she’d obviously taken out the three bandits littering the ground at her feet, she appeared to be more intent on luring Thaddeus and one of the other idiots farther from the main battle. It was a rather odd choice –

Or maybe not so odd at all, Xena realized, as she noticed the double-bladed spear the second thug wielded with a fair amount of skill. That particular weapon had quite a decent reach, and the redhead had no way to know that both her allies could defend themselves against it with their shorter weapons. By drawing him away from the others, she was making certain her new ‘friends’ had a chance to finish off their own opponents without getting tagged. Thaddeus was following because his manly pride had been thrashed when she’d pulped his nose. A nice thought, and an intelligent choice. I like this girl.

Dodging another wild swing of more brute strength than smarts, the Warrior Princess focused back on the remaining idiots still trying valiantly to claim their ‘spoils.’ A sharp twist extended the dirty arm, boot heel planted firmly in bandit gut before she flung him aside. He collided with a thrown foe from Gabrielle, both going down in a smelly, unconscious heap. The blonde rolled her eyes. “These guys are losers.”

Xena nodded, grinning again in spite of herself. Making quick work of the last few men, both bard and warrior turned to watch their new ally. The spear-wielding thug was already down, dazed and writhing weakly on the forest floor. Only Thaddeus was left . . . though to look at the bruises blooming spectacularly across his ugly mug, how he was still standing was an utter mystery. Wavering on wobbly legs, the massive man got his feet back under him and steadied himself a few feet from the young redhead. Growling deep in his chest like a wounded bear, the bandit charged forward, blade whistling in lethal arches through the air in front of him.

The girl ducked and wove through the attacks with fluid grace, blocking the closest with swift flicks of her own daggers. For the moment, she seemed to be holding her own quite well. Then Thaddeus’ face contorted into a bloody grimace of a smile, beady black eyes shining with maniac fury. The sudden reversed motion of his beefy arm was shocking in its speed and violence, a mighty sweep that threatened to take the young woman’s head from her shoulders. Most other fighters wouldn’t have had time to even register the motion; but in a flash, the redhead’s muscular legs coiled, and her lanky frame launched straight up. Both booted feet landed briefly on the heavy blade with a muted thunk, slamming the tip into the ground as she bounced off the metal and over his head.

Enraged, the bandit leader released his stuck blade and spun around – directly into the range of a punishing roundhouse kick. The meaty pulping noise of his cheek splitting was enough to make Gabrielle wince. Blood and spittle sprayed from cracked lips, at least one tooth flying as the force of the blow snapped the man’s head up and to one side. His feet left the ground an instant later, and with a loud thud, the massive thug landed flat on his back, out cold.

There were a few moments of utter silence before Xena stepped forward, facing the few men that had managed to haul themselves upright again. “Anybody else interested in our toys?” She asked, a savagely dazzling smile curling her lips. Gabrielle couldn’t help but smirk, secretly loving that dark look just as much as she always had. And the shocked, terrified expressions of the bandits made it even more irresistible.

The thugs, apparently, were smart enough to finally realize they’d been whipped. Every one took off as though Cerberus himself were on their heels, those that were still unconscious being hauled by anyone else able to limp away. Xena was amused to note that it took three of them to drag off Thaddeus, his head bobbing to thunk against the ground at every other step. In seconds, they had vanished entirely, leaving the road clear save Xena, Gabrielle, Argo and their new companion.

The young redhead rubbed the back of her neck and glanced up with a laughing expression in her eyes. “Well, that was fun.” She commented, expertly sheathing her blades before turning back to bard and warrior. “Thanks for the help.”

Gabrielle grinned, face open and cheerful, though Xena answered first. “We’d have run into them ourselves soon enough.” The Warrior Princess waved away the thanks, smiling. “Besides, they were good practice.” Sword sheathed, she offered her arm. “Name’s Xena.”

With an answering smile and nod, the girl joined her own arm in a warrior’s clasp. “I’m Mer.” She pronounced it ‘mare.’ “Nice to meet you.”

“Gabrielle.” The bard traded clasps with the young woman in turn, friendly as always. “Hey, Xe – think those were the guys Etronus mentioned back in Lauven? The ones that were robbing merchants?”

Xena nodded casually, though sapphire eyes lit with pride at the fact that her blonde partner remembered. “Probably. We can send a few men back for them when we get to Torus – they’re not going to be up for much of a fight for a while.” She glanced back to Mer. “So where were you headed?”

“Actually, to Torus, at least for a little while.” Mer’s quirky grin turned amused – and a tad embarrassed. “Noticed those idiots by the side of the road and figured I could stop their little ambush before anybody got hurt. Didn’t realize anyone would be coming down this way.”

“I’d say you did pretty good.” Gabrielle laughed. “I mean, that was a great trick with that spear-user.”

So she saw the spear too. Xena felt her pride grow all over again at the knowledge. With a small smile to her bard, the warrior continued out loud, “Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

Mer hesitated for just a moment, then seemed to mentally shrug. “From my parents and tribe, mostly. I’m an Amazon.” She touched the small silver pendant that hung around her neck, inlaid with the fang from some kind of beast. Then, seeing their surprised faces, she tilted her head curiously to one side. “Something I said?”

Gabrielle shook her head, eyes wide. “I’m an Amazon, too!”

“Really?” Mer’s eyebrows leapt for her hairline. “Both of you?” Her expression said it would explain a lot. Gabrielle jumped back in hastily. “Well, technically, only me, but Xena – well, Xena might as well be.”

Oh really? Xena smirked, mouthing ‘A featherhead? Me?’ at Gabrielle. The bard elbowed her, and they both grinned briefly. The young redhead, meanwhile, was looking thoughtful as she frowned a bit. “Xena and Gabrielle – an Amazon – wait a minute.” Her gaze sparkled. “You wouldn’t be the Warrior Princess and the Battling Bard, would you? Xena and Queen Gabrielle?”

Xena nodded, wondering where – and what – the girl had heard about them. As usual, Gabrielle asked first. “They tell stories about us even in your tribe?” She seemed utterly amazed at the idea that her ‘simple scrolls’ had spread so widely.

Mer laughed. “Not at home, sadly – though I’ve heard your stories travel as far as Rome, Chin and Britannia. I was listening to the bard that performed in Illas a few days back.” This time, the grin was definitely amused. “My tribe is roughly five moons of travel back that way.” She motioned in a direction perpendicular to the road beneath them.

Both warrior and bard recognized the town as one they’d passed through just before Lauven; the villagers had been cleaning up the last of the damage from a massive rockslide. “You’re a long way from home.” Xena commented. Mer shrugged, mouth twisting ruefully. “My choice to travel. Wouldn’t be so bad, but I got caught in a landslide just half a league from Illas, and I lost most of my supplies. Lucky I didn’t lose my life.”

Gabrielle’s eyes lit, fingers snapping. “You’re the girl they mentioned!” She turned to her taller partner. “You remember, Xena – they were telling us all about the girl that came from the forest just in time.” Her beaming gaze turned back to Mer. “They were calling you a hero, you know. They said you saved those little shepherd kids, and their dog.”

“I was just there.” Mer ducked her head just a bit, looking faintly embarrassed. She seemed to be fighting the urge to shuffle her feet, like a child caught doing something they shouldn’t. “I’d been up near the ridge, and I could see they weren’t getting out of the way fast enough. It wasn’t like I could just stand around and watch.”

That hangdog, sheepish expression – Gabrielle couldn’t help but smile. For a moment, Mer looked exactly the way Xena had when they first started traveling together. Anytime someone praised her good deeds, or she’d gone out of her way to do something nice for the bard, Xena always wore that same expression. Frankly, Gabrielle found it absolutely adorable on her Warrior Princess.

And it was fairly cute on the redhead, too. Gabrielle’s eyes sparkled. Now she’ll point out that she lost her supplies because of it, so she was stupid.

“Besides, I left more than half my stuff up on the ridge, and it got torn to pieces when the rocks went. Only things I ended up with were in my rucksack - not exactly my smartest choice.”

Warriors. The bard managed not to laugh, but it was a near thing. Oblivious to her partner’s amusement, Xena nodded, both brunette and redhead commiserating for a few seconds on the loss of equipment. After a bit, the Warrior Princess gestured toward the road. “We can keep moving while we talk. Those idiots might decide to come back for another round once they’re done licking their wounds.”

With a nod, Mer lifted her pack from the dirt, settling it easily on her shoulders as Gabrielle caught up her own bag and Xena gathered Argo’s reins. In true warhorse form, the mare hadn’t budged hardly an inch in spite of the fighting around her, though Xena had noticed a few hoofprint-shaped marks on the fools that tried to come up behind her and Gabrielle. That’s my girl.

All three women fell into an easy pace, and the quiet turned quickly to more questions. “So what’s an Amazon doing five moons from home, headed for a backwater village in the middle of nowhere?”

Mer laughed. “Looking for a map and directions, mostly.” She admitted. “Not that the one I had was worth the parchment it was inked on. I wanted to meet with other tribes . . . learn new traditions, histories, methods, you know?” Both Gabrielle and Xena nodded, and the redhead went on, “Then when I got here, I found out the map I bought sent me off in the wrong direction entirely. I was hoping I could get a better fix on where to head at the market in Torus.”

“So you’re really headed for Amazon territory.” Gabrielle glanced over at Xena, gazes locking in a moment of silent conversation. The faint softening of sapphire eyes and a quirking smile showed the warrior agreed with her partner.

“Yep.” Mer looked sad for a few seconds – missing someone back home, Gabrielle guessed – before shaking it off and smiling upward. “But where are you guys headed? Something special in Torus for you?”

Xena grinned, not missing a beat. “Actually, we’re headed back to Amazon territory ourselves. Torus is on the way – we were traveling by the coast.” She nodded toward Gabrielle teasingly. “There’s supposed to be trouble brewing, and her majesty here wanted to head back to check it out.”

“Oh, like you didn’t worry about them too.” The blonde bumped Xena’s shoulder, not quite giggling as the Warrior Princess smirked back. Smiling at Mer over Argo’s flank, Gabrielle added, “You’re welcome to join us. It’s at least half a moon to the borders, and going alone is no fun.”

Now it was Xena’s turn to bite back a laugh. Only Gabrielle could say something like ‘fun’ in that sentence and still sound anywhere near serious. Not that Mer noticed; her fantastic eyes widened, and her wide grin threatened to split her face. “Wha – really? That’s great!” She sighed happily, shifting her bag slightly across her shoulders. “I figured I’d be wandering around like an idiot for at least another week.”

“Nah.” Xena waved a hand dismissively, the ghost of a teasing glint in her gaze. “Only half a week. You’re better trained then Gab was. And you probably don’t snore.”

“Hey!” Gabrielle yelped. Mer burst out laughing as the blonde backhanded her partner in the stomach. The warrior smiled, and Gabrielle couldn’t help but grin back. She adored these bursts of playfulness, though she’d never told Xena so. “So where to now, o mighty Warrior Princess?”

Head tilting to one side, Xena ruffled the blonde bangs affectionately, unable to help herself. “There’s a nice lake maybe a league or so down the road.” She offered. “I’m thinking we’ll camp there for the night, and get a fresh start in the morning.”

Gabrielle nodded. “Sounds good to me.” Mer agreed cheerfully. “But there is one important question.”

Xena raised an eyebrow, and Gabrielle twisted around to stare puzzledly at the redhead. “What’s that?” She asked, surprised.

Mer grinned brightly. “Can either of you cook? ‘cause my food sucks.”

The Warrior Princess threw back her head and laughed. Maybe it would be good for them to travel with another person again, at least for a while. The dreams hadn’t started until after Amarice and Joxer left, after all. And for a kid, Mer seemed nice enough. Kind of like Gabrielle when I first met her, with a bit of Amarice thrown in.

Turning her attention to her companions, she watched the two of them chatter like old friends, Gabrielle spinning a story of Xena’s horrible culinary skills that had the redhead chuckling. Nodding to herself, Xena smiled. No, this wouldn’t be so bad at all.

As a sidenote, I probably won't have another part uploaded for a month or so - I'm focusing on my website, since I've got a bet going I can't finish it before KumoriCon on Sept. 1. Sorry to everyone, I just have to get site-work done. At least, if I want to have my friend cosplay as one of my characters, and so I don't have to pay for dinner and a movie for three. xD I'll still be around, so feel free to drop messages and such. As usual, comments are appreciated.

Lions and Dragons, Pt. 1

2007-08-06T06:06:00Z

Since I was told it wasn’t fair to dangle fun fics in front of hungry readers (*glee*), I went on a hunt and found the beginnings of Lions and Dragons hidden in my laptop. I’ll just have to finish off the fic-trailer sometime later and post it then. ^^ Standard disclaimers apply: Xena, Gabrielle, and the other canon-characters belong to Renpics. Shana, Mer, Lena, and everything pertaining to the world of Legandia, on the other hand, DO belong to me – they’re from my novel Dragon’s Shadow, which I plan to publish as soon as possible. *fingers crossed* There will be specific song disclaimers later on when said songs are posted.

Now, on to the story!
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Xena was gone.

Gabrielle sat in silence on the ice-crusted gray rocks beside the Fountain of Strength, staring out over the horizon as the last of the sun’s setting rays washed the sky in dark, bloody red-gold. She knew, in a vague sort of way, that she should be leaving. The snow-covered path down the mountain would be difficult in the blackness that was falling. It was already cold, especially with her clothing ripped open at the back, and it would undoubtedly become colder still. And her poor mount was probably going to be frightened and skittish with all the night’s predators awakening around it. Besides, she had no more business here. The heavy weight of the round urn cradled in her hands, the fading sunlight made that much plain.

She didn’t care. The blonde sniffed, emerald eyes glimmering liquidly in the faint light, her lips trembling. The tears she had fought so valiantly not to shed throughout her last moments with her beloved’s spirit traced slow, unhindered trails down fair cheeks, each solitary drop carving yet another searing line of agony through her heart. “Oh, Xena.” Her whispered cry was choked, her throat closed with a tightness that echoed the crushing pain in her chest. Xena, Xena, what will I do now? How can I live without you? I never told you – you know that I love you, my warrior, but you never knew how very much. I’ve been in love with you for so many years, and now – now I can’t even tell you. How can I go on alone, when all I wanted was to spend the rest of my life with you? What do I do?

More tears fell from her chin, pattering hollowly on the lid of the urn and the silk covering her lap. Dripping across the lacquered metal, leaving thin trails on the dark surface. The same surface that housed the last remnants of the mortal form that the bard had loved so. Remembering anew was a fresh stab of bitter anguish. It hurts so much, Xena. It hurts, and I don’t know how to make it stop.

For a moment, she wondered what would happen if she simply dropped the urn into the clear waters behind her anyway. Xena had paid her debt, she had stayed dead of her own choice; those souls were avenged, they were free and given over to grace. Why couldn’t the Warrior Princess be given her own chance at grace and love? Why couldn’t she return now, to live the life she should have had?

But it was a futile thought, and Gabrielle knew that as well as she understood the sacrifice her beloved warrior had made. The time where Xena could have been brought back to life had passed with the setting of the sun. That was the death she had chosen, the hero’s end that she had been granted. For all its power, the Fountain could do nothing to help her now.

To help either of us. The blonde’s eyes closed. “Xena – ”

“Gabrielle. Gabrielle?”

The voice, faint and so familiar, didn’t quite register with the young bard at first. Caught in her own helpless grief, it was only after the second call that she recognized the low, smooth tone she had never believed she could hear physically again. Shocked to her very core, Gabrielle jerked and stared up, a gasp escaping. “Xena?!?”

In the lengthening shadows, she could almost have thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. A long, lean form was slowly shimmering into view only a few steps to the left, just feet from where Xena’s spirit had been settled when it vanished. The bard sat motionless, frozen in hope and utter disbelief. She knew that sleek, well-muscled frame, the leathers and the armor and sword and the boots, that tanned skin and long dark mane of thick silk. And those eyes, the icy deep blue that had always seemed to reach directly into her soul. She knew them all, as well as she knew her own reflection. It was Xena standing before her, the Warrior Princess, as though the taller woman had only stepped out of sight for a moment before reappearing once more. The only thing missing was the chakram now hooked to her own waist.

Was she going mad? Had losing Xena taken her mind as well? Or was the cold simply making her hallucinate?

“Gabrielle?” Gods help her, Gabrielle thought wildly. The voice wasn’t the faint tone of a spirit, the echoing softness of one who wasn’t flesh. It sounded as real and normal as the rest of her looked. “Gabrielle, how – I’m here? How am I still here?”

The blonde woman drew another shaky breath, hands trembling so hard the lid of the urn rattled. I don’t know how. It doesn’t make any sense. Atermis, Aphrodite, if this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up. Slowly, as carefully as she could, Gabrielle set her precious burden on another stone beside the Fount, gaze riveted on the apparition of her soulmate. Xena’s sapphire eyes watched in concern and confusion – more than a little of each, if the bard was any judge. Weak legs shivered for a few seconds as she stood, but they held, and Gabrielle stepped tentatively forward. “Xena, you – ” She stopped, shaking her head. Her own voice sounded less sure than her partner’s. “You look normal, Xena. Real, solid.”

Hesitant fingers reached out, pausing only inches from a glossy lock of raven hair. Xena made no move to touch her soulmate. She was too stunned herself. When she’d watched the last of the sunset, felt the warm pressure of Gabrielle’s head on her shoulder fall from her and her mind fading away, the Warrior Princess had truly believed it was the end. Her path of redemption had finally led to this – the burning souls she had so thoughtlessly destroyed would now be at peace, and she herself would at last be slightly redeemed for her dark, cruel past. The fact that her spirit would stay with her beloved Gabrielle was a given, of course, but her life was no more.

So why, then, was she back so quickly? With Gabrielle looking at her, not as though she were a spirit, but as though she were herself? Why did she feel no different?

“Gabrielle – ” A lean, bronzed hand leapt into the air, trying without conscious thought to catch the smaller, slender fingers hovering there. Xena held her breath, hardly daring to hope. There was a moment of odd resistance, as if she’d brushed against a heavy cobweb or stiff hanging gauze . . . but then it was past, and their hands seemed to merge, hanging in the same space without touching at all. The held-in gasp came out as a choked rush. “I can’t touch you. I must be dead.”

“But Xena – ” Gabrielle curled her fingers helplessly, watching as the hand she so wanted to hold slid like water through her grip. “I don’t understand. We’ve seen ghosts, we’ve seen spirits. You don’t look like a spirit, and you don’t sound like one. You look real.”

Xena had no answer to that. Unless – “I swore I would never leave you.” Her voice became husky, roughening as she shivered, and her elegant face tightened with pain. “Even – even when I was dying, I wouldn’t leave you alone. I knew I had to die, but I was fighting so some part of me could stay with you. We’re soulmates, remember?”

I would give up my life, Gabrielle, but never my bond with you. That is unbreakable.

“So maybe you look normal to me because your soul is tied to mine?” The younger bard paused and lowered her hand, obviously considering the idea, and Xena breathed a slight sigh of relief. She knew she’d been rambling a bit, dangerously close to admitting the truth she’d kept hidden in her heart for years. I could never tell her, not now. It wouldn’t be fair. Still, she’d owed her beloved blonde at least a portion of the truth, no matter what it cost her to reveal the emotions. Gabrielle’s shoulders drooped slightly. The explanation was a simple one, after all. Then Xena trembled again, and emerald eyes widened. “Xena, you’re shivering.”

The Warrior Princess blinked, surprised by the abrupt change of subject. “You are, too.” She pointed out sensibly. “It’s cold here, and neither of us are dressed for the weather anymore.”

“No, Xena, you’re shivering!” Gabrielle sounded almost exasperated through her excitement, her entire expression burning with the light of her discovery. “A spirit, a ghost wouldn’t feel the cold, but you are. You’ve got goosebumps and everything!”

A shocked look at her arm confirmed the bard’s observation. And – “I’m breathing.” Xena swallowed hard, the breath in question coming faster. She could feel the sharp, frosty air coming in and out of her lungs, chest rising and falling, for all the world as though she were flesh and blood. Gods, even the rock and snow beneath her boots crunched exactly as the ground beneath Gabrielle’s did! Curious, she knelt on one knee, the shock of cold biting deeply into her skin as she reached for a pebble lying a few inches from her boot. Her hand shimmered for a moment, the stone unmoved. Then, with a slight grate of rock on rock, the pebble was captured between her fingertips. She could feel the roughness of the stone! Trying to lift it, she watched intently as the rock rose only slightly before dropping back through her misty grasp. A frown twisted the Warrior Princess’ features, that single brow rising slightly in a wry snort as she climbed back to her feet. “If this is dead, it’s the strangest dead I’ve ever seen.”

Gabrielle’s eyebrows drew together in a frown, and she lifted her hand again, pushing lightly against one tanned shoulder. Again the fingers went straight through Xena’s arm, bronze flesh wavering like a reflection in the surface of a disturbed pond. “But what does it mean, Xena?” The bard’s question was equal parts pain and frustration, her voice raw, and it drew the dark-haired woman’s focus back to her partner instantly. That flawless sea-green gaze turned up into the warrior’s face, the mature confidence of the woman she had become laced with the hurt, frightened uncertainty of the innocent girl she had been so long ago. Xena’s heart ached to comfort her beloved. To hold her close, to put an arm around her and press a kiss to that soft golden hair . . . even a word of confidence or tender assurance would have helped. But she didn’t know what was going on, either . . .

Gabrielle . . .

“Xena.” The bard’s fingers closed around the pebble, eyes prickling. It felt as though the frozen cold had seeped into her very bones, a raw darkness that swept through her consciousness like an inescapable blanket. The world was growing black –

Gabrielle . . . Gabrielle . . .

“Xena!”

Gabrielle of Potidaea, Amazon Queen and Battling Bard, jerked awake with a startled gasp, eyes like wide emeralds flying open beneath sleep-tousled blonde bangs. For a few breathless seconds, she lay motionless, honed fighter’s instinct taking stock of her surroundings. Low, dappled sunlight, usual woodland noises, the natural scents of growing greenery and dirt – a once-banked firepit, smoldering embers recently stirred to life, crackling and popping in their ring of stones – the unmistakable noises of a horse whuffing, shaking her head and cropping grass somewhere just outside the clearing – her own shift on her body, two familiar sets of furs drawn up around her – and the sound of someone moving, breathing near her, a presence she knew in her deepest soul –

“Xena - ” Pushing up from the bedrolls, Gabrielle half-turned, heart still lodged in her throat as she scanned the camp. She needn’t have worried; the waterskin in her returning companion’s hand dropped with a thump beside the fire, two quick steps bringing the warrior to her knees beside the bard, long arms wrapping around her shoulders. “It’s okay, Gabrielle. I’m here.” Tapered, graceful fingers stroked her short hair. “I’m here.”

Gabrielle closed her eyes again, breathing in the familiar scent of leather and steel and something else that was Xena alone. Her racing heartbeat slowed, wire-tight muscles relaxing into the welcome embrace. “Xena.” The name was breathed like a prayer.

The Warrior Princess in question lifted her cheek from the younger woman’s mussed locks, her usual quirky smile filled with soothing warmth. She didn’t really need to ask, but – “Bad dreams again?”

The bard nodded silently, burrowing deeper against the warrior’s shoulder. She’d been having these horrible nightmares for more than two weeks now, since a few days after Amarice and Joxer had left them. Actually, they both had – Xena’s usually in the dead of night, while Gabrielle’s came nearer to morning. No matter when, they all caused the same reaction. A panic that bordered on terror jolting the receiver awake, lanced through with a wracking ache of loss and a desperate need for their soulmate close by.

“Hey, come’ere.” Xena set soft fingers beneath a pale chin, coaxing her partner’s face up to meet her gaze before cupping a soft cheek. Her free hand moved absently to Gabrielle’s wrist, gentle fingertips massaging the almost-invisible scar left by nails only a moon ago. “Was it the cross, or after?”

“Cross, I think.” Gabrielle’s low voice was rough, only partly with sleep, trembling slightly. Terrifying and horrible as the dreams were, nothing concrete ever stayed behind; only a few scattered fragments, images and emotions and an overwhelming, gut-wrenching sense of fear and defeat. Leaning into the warmth of her partner’s touch, the young bard tried to dredge up the few small pieces that remained. “At least, it was snowing. And we were both there. You were shivering.”

Xena hugged the Amazon Queen closer, sighing soundlessly. These dreams were beginning to worry her. Not that they weren’t expected, at least to some degree. The two of them had been captured, beaten, crucified, then resurrected from the dead in the middle of a battle between Heaven and Hell. And that didn’t even count things like her own paralysis or Gabrielle’s slaughter of the Roman soldiers, or the whole mess with Callisto. If all that wasn’t fodder for nightmares, she didn’t want to know what was. Still, shouldn’t they have lessened, or at least been a bit easier to bear and remember? Her own dreaming hell the night before had set her warrior’s nerves on fire, filling her veins with nameless terror so intense she’d almost gone mad. Thank the gods Gabrielle had come to at the sound of her stifled waking screams. The bard hadn’t even asked what was wrong. Instead, she’d shifted swiftly across the edges of their neighboring bedrolls to settle her lean body into Xena’s trembling arms, tucking her furs tightly around the two of them and nestling her head against the warrior’s shoulder. They’d learned after the first few sleepless evenings that it was the only way for either one of them to manage any shut-eye after the nightmares.

Not that you don’t just love that. Her inner voice smirked. It’s not quite your fantasy, but damn if it isn’t close enough. Her body snuggled up against yours, all nice and cozy –

Xena ignored the thought with the ease of long practice, pressing a gentle kiss to the blonde’s soft hair. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here, Gabrielle. I thought you could use a little more sleep.”

And waking up to her beloved bard wrapped around her had been more than her self-control was ready to deal with . . . not that she planned on telling Gabrielle about that particular part of the morning. She’d opened her eyes about a candlemark before to find the Amazon sprawled half on top of her, one warm arm flung across her stomach and both their legs tangled together from the knees down while a blonde head rested snugly at the curve of her neck. Just thinking about it now sent a pleasant tingle through her nerves.

Determined to break that train of thought, Xena released her partner and shifted backward, eyeing the bard critically. “You going to be okay? I wanted to get through the next pass before noon, it looks like it’ll be pretty hot.”

Gabrielle nodded, mentally waving her musings about the dreams away. They’d originally been traveling along the coast, relaxing and unwinding for a little while after the insanity that had been India and Rome. But almost a week ago, the news from the towns they’d passed had started reporting trouble brewing with the Amazons; even worse, it sounded like it might be spreading toward Potidaea and Amphipolis. Rumors or not, the information was enough to cut their ‘vacation’ short. Three days later, they were still about half a moon from familiar territory, but they were certainly making decent time.

Xena ruffled the blonde’s bangs fondly and stood, heading back toward the fire. “Be careful washing, it’s kind of cold.” She warned over her shoulder. “I’ll make us some tea, and then we can get going.”

“Okay.” Gabrielle snagged one of the linens they used for towels and headed down toward the stream. As usual, it was fresh and clean – a bit chilly this early in the morning, but it definitely helped to shake off the lingering cobwebs. Wiping off her face, the young Queen glanced up, her gaze caught by a flash of purple-blue against the deep green foliage a bit farther down the bank. A second look brought a broad grin, all nightmarish worries forgotten. Blueberries and blackberries! Padding to the dense bushes, she began stripping the nearest branch, dropping the unexpected treats into her folded towel and humming a cheerful tune.

This is gonna be a good day after all. I just know it.

Hearts in Time Exerpt

2007-08-02T23:11:07Z

In honor of Xena month, ‘tis a random scene extract from a fic called “Hearts in Time.” The information / summary bit below isn’t entirely necessary, but it’ll help make sense of things.

Hearts centers around two young women – Abigail and Quinn – from modern times, who have just recently discovered their matching dreams are actually memories from their previous lives as Xena (Quinn) and Gabrielle (Abby). Exposed to a scheming Alti and barely rescued by Abby’s budding-sorceress cousin Nikki, the trio became caught in Alti’s spell and ended up being thrown back in time. After landing in the center of the Amazon village, they have joined up with the Warrior Princess, Battling Bard and several familiar Amazon friends, hoping to defeat the evil Shaman’s band of enemies and find a way back to their own lives.

A sequel of sorts to Lions and Dragons, there are a few changes to normal cannon caused by that story. Although its’ set time-wise in early fifth season – with Gab’s short haircut and sai-fighting – both Xena and Gab actually have memories up to the end of the series, playing into LD and what happened there. Xena isn’t pregnant, and Eve was never conceived. As a result, most of the dead Gods – Athena and Artemis especially – are alive and currently on good terms with the pair; Ephiny is still alive and Gabrielle’s regent, while Amarice became an official member of their tribe rather than the Northern Amazons. Finally, Xena and Gabrielle are now lovers, and Alti is an uber-bad as opposed to simply scary trouble.

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Hearts in Time: Pt. 1

“Ya know, it’s funny – none of my memories included bugs the size of bricks.” Nikki muttered, flicking aside a beetle that had fallen on her shoulder. Her pale skin was flushed with exertion from their trek, glasses slightly crooked, thick braid of long auburn curls hanging like shimmering rope down the back of her borrowed shirt. A light rucksack of supplies was hoisted over one shoulder, a staff gripped easily in the opposite hand, its end thumping the dirt as she followed Eponin over the newest game trail. “Insane gods, pissed off warlords, idiotic bandits, and the occasional annoying Joxer, yes. But the massive insects and this disgusting humidity just totally escaped me.”

Glancing ahead at her cousin while several of their companions snickered, Abby couldn’t help a small smirk. “Whiner.” She teased. “Come on, Nik, it’s fresh air and nature. Besides, you could use the exercise. Work off whatever’s got you huffing and puffing like a boar in heat.”

Louder laughter came from the rest of the group trotting through the trees; Nikki made a face over her shoulder, though the look in her eyes said she wasn’t really annoyed. “Oh, bite me, Amazonette. Not everybody can go for miles without even sweating a drop, ya know.”

Abby’s grin widened, equal parts amusement and sheepish pride. Amazonette, huh? Unlike the young sorceress – who’d flatly refused to wear anything but breeches if she couldn’t keep her beloved blue jeans – both Quinn and Abby had opted for the more traditional, if more revealing, Amazon leathers. Not that the blonde would ever have picked something like this back home, but they were mostly comfortable, and they did cover more than a bikini might have. And it wasn’t as if she looked bad in the rust-colored warrior garb. Indeed, with her hair braided tightly back out of the way and a pair of spare sais tucked into her boots, she really looked like a younger carbon copy of Gabrielle. Not as tan, or quite as muscular in the shoulders as the bard that strode at her side – but still, the resemblance was uncanny, especially when you added the whole ‘past life me’ equation into the mix.

Yeah, then it just gets weird as hell. Abby sighed. She liked Gabrielle, a lot – which was weird all on its own, considering she was basically liking herself – but occasionally she’d forget. Then the Amazon Queen would say something, or do something, or get a certain expression on her face, and it was like looking into some faintly distorted mirror. Idly, she wondered if Quinn was having the same problem dealing with Xena. Probably not, she concluded; the tall brunette seemed fairly good at ignoring stuff that would make most people spastic. And speaking of not-looking-bad-in-leather – damn. I thought half the featherheads were gonna swallow their tongues when she came out of that hut. Not that I blame them. She’d be drop-dead gorgeous in a potato sack. In leather, she’s beyond sexy. The blonde blinked, her last thought a shock even to herself. Sexy? Whoa, where did that come from? Sun must be baking my brain.

Gabrielle’s light, warm laugh tugged Abby from her thoughts. The bard was shaking her head at the continued teasing, green eyes dancing as she motioned toward a decent-sized clearing several yards up ahead. “There’s where we’re supposed to meet Xena and Quinn. Guess we got here first. As for the walking thing, I think Abby’s got an unfair advantage.”

“How do’ya figure?” Solari asked curiously from a few paces back. Pushing dark hair off her forehead, the Amazon ducked a low-hanging branch, padding into the wide-open glade and leaning against a handy tree trunk. Only a few steps behind her, Thea followed cheerfully, booting a rock out of the way before sprawling on the forest floor. Digging through the rucksack at her side, the youngest Amazon retrieved a few trail bars, passing them to her companions.

Setting aside her own small pack, Gabrielle lifted her arms and stretched, rolling her head gracefully from side to side before she answered. “Well, she,” a friendly nod to Abby, “is basically me, from some point in the future. And with the dreams and being here, we’re closer than ever, right?”

Agreement all around as Amarice slipped from the trees, settling herself on a fallen log beside Nikki and gratefully accepting a held-out waterskin. The bard grinned, and Abby swore she could see mischief flaring in the innocent expression. “Well, I’ve walked over most of Greece at least twice by now. There’s got to be some benefit in that besides the blisters.”

Eponin groaned, and Solari rolled her eyes. “That’s not even funny, your Maj.” The weapons master retorted. Nikki, on the other hand, gave her cousin a mock-glare over the top of her glasses. “So that’s how you do it. I knew you were cheating.”

“Oh yes, I planned on everything happening just like this, just to make fun of you.” Abby deadpanned, quirking an eyebrow and flicking an acorn at the young sorceress in the same breath. Another round of soft laughter followed before quiet descended on the glade, broken only by the usual forest noises and light rustling as the Amazon party dug into their rations. Abby leaned a hip against the nearest tree and stretched her own sore leg muscles, fairly grateful for the rest. All teasing aside, she was rather surprised she’d held up as well as she had. They’d been roaming through this rather-unused area of the Amazon territory since early morning, looking for signs of the raiders and their camps. Xena and Quinn had been with them until a little before noon, when they’d hit a long, steep ravine that ran miles in either direction.

Gaze resting absently on the dappled patterns of sunlight against a fallen log nearby, Abby mentally shook her head. Both Warrior Princess and her future counterpart had leapt fearlessly over the treacherous gap, long legs and split-second timing carrying the pair neatly to the opposite edge of a drop so sheer it made the younger woman’s breath catch. Amarice had planned on going after – and tossing a rope over so the others could follow easier – but the few finger-width ledges that cleft the stone had crumbled away almost as soon as Quinn bounded onto them. So instead of the rest making any sort of ‘risky, half-baked crossing,’ (Xena’s argument) they’d reached a compromise. The Amazons, Nikki and Abby would go on ahead and explore this side of the ravine; Xena, in turn, had promised she and Quinn would search this smaller area, then circle around to another likely crossing point a few miles down and meet the rest of them in a particular little clearing.

At least she didn’t say she’d meet us back at the village. I think Gabrielle might have killed her. A faint grin touched Abby’s lips. With the connection between their essences closer now than it could ever have been normally, she’d felt the exasperation and frustration beneath Gabrielle’s burning glare as if it had flared under her own skin. Moments when Xena left her blonde partner behind were certainly few and far between these days, but each of those moments seemed to take an eternity, and Abby knew it irritated the bard to no end. Especially when there was possible danger, and especially when it had to do with Alti.

--- A momentary lock of gazes, annoyed emerald to soothing sapphire, and they were woven once more into a silent communication that needed no words, yet spoke louder than any of them.

~You’re leaving me again, going into trouble.~ Gabrielle’s irritated intensity didn’t quite mask her worry, fear a murky undercurrent in this voiceless language of expression and heart. ~What if there’s trouble?~

~They wouldn’t be anything I couldn’t handle. And I have Quinn with me.~ The warrior reassured her partner with more patience than most people would believe she possessed. ~She may not be formally trained, but she’s better than an average Amazon. I’ll be fine.~

Gabrielle swallowed hard, lower lip trembling so slightly no one else could have seen it. ~You can’t be sure - ~

~Alti isn’t with them. We’d know.~ The swelling warmth in Xena’s eyes softened further, if such a thing was even possible. ~And even if she was, she won’t get me again, love. Never, remember? I swore, and I’ll swear again until the moon dies.~

~And wisdom itself fades.~ The end of the familiar, teasing oath brought a faint smile to the bard’s face. ~I guess we do have friends in high places sometimes.~ Mischief flickered in lines of her body, slowly relaxing just a hair. ~Shana would knock your head off if you were that careless.~

~Only if Mer or Lena didn’t get there first. And our Amazons hadn’t nailed my hide to a tree.~ Came the laughing reply, complete with quirked eyebrow. ~ Aphrodite might even risk a broken nail to kick my ass.~ ---

Whoaaa. Abby blinked, her mind returning to her surroundings with an almost physical jerk. Shakily, she drew a few deep breaths, letting the unexpected flood of emotion seep back out of her veins. Another lovely side-effect of her connection to the bard growing deeper; things that Gabrielle experienced ‘now’ were surfacing as memories in Abby’s own mind. Not just random sensations, or the deep empathy that let the younger blonde sense the bard’s emotions. No, these were full chunks of time, so incredibly vivid it was as though Abby were reliving the moment herself. Even worse, they were happening more and more often, with less and less time between the actual event and her ‘recollections.’ And they took over with absolutely no warning.

Still, they were kind of cool. And they certainly gave some insight to the complex relationship that had so haunted her dreams. I didn’t know Xena and Gab could talk like that! It wasn’t telepathy, not exactly – but it wasn’t just body language, either. I swear, I could hear her voice – I mean, Gabrielle could hear Xena, just like she was talking. And I know Xena could hear her, I just know it. Plus, that whole conversation only took a few seconds in real time. It’s incredible. I’ve never seen anything quite like that.

The snide, sarcastic part of her mind intruded with a smirk, presenting an image of her own mostly-silent goodbye to Quinn. She’d surprised herself with a sudden flash of anxiety at the time; it wasn’t like they hadn’t been separated before, they didn’t even live together back home, but it still sent a pang through her chest. And she knew Quinn could see the hint of worry in her eyes, the slight tilt of her head and faintly drawn-down eyebrows fairly screaming her emotions. The words had leapt unbidden into her mind. ~Will you be okay?~

And like magic, there was the slightest gentleness in Quinn’s own cocky grin, a sparkle in her gaze across the chasm that was obviously meant to reassure. ~Of course.~ The answer was as plain and visible as daylight itself. ~See ya in a couple hours. Take care of Nik, huh?~

~Always.~ Her own smile had grown warm, one hand lifting to wave as she managed a teasing expression. ~If you find some, nail one of those losers for me.~

Back in the present, Abby was stunned. She hadn’t even thought about her relationship with Quinn being the same, not once. Yeah, they were connected, essences tied together like Xena’s and Gabrielle’s – she wasn’t stupid or blind enough to deny that. But they weren’t soulmates, or romantically involved at all. So shouldn’t the Warrior Princess and her Amazon Queen have a deeper bond? Shouldn’t lovers and the like trump best friends, no matter how close? But the ‘talk’ between her and Quinn hadn’t really been any different than the silent conversation between the lovers. Lost in her musings, it took a few seconds for the young blonde to realize someone was talking to her.

“So, Abby – how long have you and Quinn been together?”

That certainly jerked her attention back to her companions in a hurry, staring across the clearing at Thea like the Amazon had lost her mind. “What?” She half-yelped, certain she hadn’t heard right. “Me and Quinn?”

“Yeah.” Sprawled casually at the base of a tree, the lanky brunette leaned against the trunk at her back, a cheerful grin on her tanned face. “We know it took her Maj – ” Gray eyes flicked teasingly to Gabrielle, who made a face, “and a certain Warrior Princess more than five years to admit they were an item. Did it take you guys that long?”

Eponin finished a sip from her waterskin and wiped her mouth with one hand, honey-colored gaze calm but interested. Solari looked curious, one brow rising in a fair impression of the Warrior Princess; Amarice had her head tilted to one side, thick red-gold curls almost glowing in the sunlight. Even Gabrielle seemed to be waiting on an answer.

“Well, um – ” Abby stammered, knocked utterly off-balance. Why on earth had they assumed that? Weren’t there any simple friends in the Amazon tribes? Then again, these were the people that knew Xena and Gabrielle (and their relationship) the best. It probably never occurred to them that Abby and Quinn might be different. And it wasn’t like they were the first people to assume it, not by a long shot; back home, people were constantly thinking the pair of them were more than friends, even ones that had known them forever. Speaking of which, Nikki certainly wasn’t being any help. Aside from a hastily-stifled snort of laughter, her cousin hadn’t made any sound at all. Abby could feel the flush crawling up her neck and cheeks, knowing she had to look ridiculous. “Well – we’re really – I mean, we’re not – ”

“Oh, Hera’s left tit! Not you, too!” Apparently, Thea had gotten something from the stammered babbling – though considering she turned to stare at Gabrielle with her arms folded, it probably wasn’t what Abby had intended. “What is it with you two and not admitting you love each other? I swear by Artemis, it’s like some kind of blood instinct. Or else you just like making each other miserable instead of doing – ”

“No!” Abby interrupted, bringing everyone’s attention back to her again. Oh, she did not want to hear what else Thea thought she should do with Quinn! Just thinking about it had the younger woman blushing so badly she felt dizzy. “I – I mean, I’m straight.”

In the few seconds of silence that followed that announcement, Abby wrested back a small bit of her dignity to see Gabrielle staring at her with an honestly puzzled expression. The bard blinked, brow furrowed. “So am I – at least, I don’t think I’ve ever had a problem with my posture. My seat, occasionally, but I walk just fine.”

Solari smirked. “Well, there have been a few days you had trouble walking.” She winked rakishly at the Queen, who grinned even as she colored slightly.

Slightly would have been a welcome understatement for her counterpart. Crimson from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes, Abby wondered if a hole might just open up and swallow her. A distinct thud came from the other side of the clearing as Nikki lost her balance and tumbled backwards off her perch, laughing so hard tears stood out in her eyes. Still mortified, Abby felt a flash of resentment. I’m so glad she’s having fun. Smug little snot.

“Abby?” Eponin frowned, leaning over to touch her wrist gently. All the Amazons, Gabrielle included, looked utterly confused. “What’s wrong?” Amarice glanced down at the young sorceress, still giggling uncontrollably, and folded her arms, obviously unsure whether or not to be offended on behalf of her ‘future Queen.’

“It’s not – nothing’s wrong, Ep, really.” Abby took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying with limited success to tame her wild flush. She had no clue why the whole thing suddenly embarrassed her so badly; after all, it wasn’t like she hadn’t heard worse. And for heavens’ sake, it wasn’t like her new friends would have heard the term before. “I didn’t mean straight like that.”

“It’s slang.” Nikki had finally managed to right herself from the forest floor, wiping her eyes beneath her glasses. She flicked a glance at her cousin, looking vaguely sheepish beneath her lingering amusement. “Like ‘having a centaur’ means you’re mad. Straight means she isn’t interested in women.”

“Oh. OH!” Thea’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, lips parting slightly in blatant shock. Eponin and Amarice’s eyebrows seemed to be trying to fly off their foreheads, while Solari spat out her mouthful of water with a hacking cough. Gabrielle looked caught in a mix of startled awe and disbelieving amusement. Before the bard could speak, however, Thea piped up again, still stunned. “But you, and Quinn – why – ” Her voice turned almost mournful. “You don’t have a boyfriend, do you?”

Abby sighed, glancing expectantly at her cousin for the next snarking comment. To her surprise, Gabrielle had turned one of her Amazon Queen warning gazes on the young sorceress; Nikki caught the expression and bit her lip to keep from laughing again, almost contrite. Stumped and vaguely relieved by the defense, the younger blonde shook her head. “No, I don’t.”

In point of fact, she hadn’t had one for more than a year, but there was no way she was bringing that up. It had nothing to do with the conversation, and besides, it wasn’t like Thea didn’t have enough ammunition.

“And you never even thought about Quinn that way?” Solari pressed. She didn’t look like she believed it was possible. “Not even once?”

“No.” The word came out by rote, born on embarrassment and exasperation without any real consideration of the question. Quinn was her best friend! Abby winced mentally. Nevermind the whole gay thing – what idiot fantasized about their best friend? That was like asking for trouble when you were already hip-deep in shit.

Of course, the fact that you were oogling those same hips and their leather casing a few minutes ago doesn’t have anything to do with it. Her sarcastic side mocked ruthlessly. Or maybe you’d rather remember falling asleep wrapped up in her arms night before last? Don’t forget how much you love making her smile, either. And then there’s the way your body always knows she’s close, no matter where you are. She’s the most important thing in your life, and you know it. You’d do anything to protect her.

She’s my best friend. Period. Abby ignored the smirking voice in her head with fierce determination, turning her look on the forest instead. “Why are we having this conversation?” She half-wailed, half-groaned. Of all the stupid things to focus on while they waited, why did it have to be her non-existent love life?

“Because it’s more fun than anything else we could come up with?” Nikki retorted, half-ducking her head to avoid Eponin’s raised eyebrow as she grinned at her cousin. “I mean, the other option is talking about the non-existent bad guys or pointing out the same wildlife we’ve been walking through all day.”

That got a bit of laughter, as the rest of the group accepted the change of subject with decent grace. Turning to the forest, Nikki nudged her glasses up and motioned in a random direction. “Ooo, look, a berry bush! Oooo, an oak tree. I ask you, where’s the fun in that?” Her voice caught slightly, then returned, her snarky ‘discovery’ tone laced with teasing. “Oooo, look, dirty and armored Warrior Princess. And another Amazonette. Damn, what’d they do, get dropped down the cliff?”

Less than half a second later, twin blond heads whipped up and around, two sets of emerald eyes widening as two waiting hearts stopped dead. Sure enough, Xena and Quinn were just coming up the nearest path. Both were streaked with dirt and muck, long dark manes tousled, bronze skin scraped painfully in various places. Xena sported a cut on her lower lip, Quinn a rapidly-darkening bruise across her cheekbone, and both had soaked patches on their clothes. Gabrielle found her voice first. “Xena!” On her feet in an instant, the bard not-quite-ran to her partner, immediately enfolded in a warm embrace. Xena’s long arms held the Queen close, her chin resting in soft blonde hair. Her voice was at its lowest, a soothing rumble felt as much as heard. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re fine.”

Abby would have been touched by the gentle affection between them . . . at least, if she had really noticed the exchange. She’d somehow found herself upright and airborne barely a moment after Gabrielle, instinctively homing in on her own warrior. Quinn’s arms were already open, and Abby half-threw herself into them gratefully, her own grip wrapping tight around the brunette’s waist. Gods, Quinn – soft heat rose from the contact, chasing away the fear that had jolted through her bones at the first sight of her best friend. Horrible, gut wrenching fear that Quinn had been hurt, wounded –

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” The taller young woman murmured gently into Abby’s hair. She grinned, just a bit, and the motion sent another wave of warmth straight to the blonde’s heart. “Falling out of a tree sucks more when you’re over a cliff, but Xena snagged me.”

“My hero.” Gabrielle teased, bumping the Warrior Princess with her hip. She’d loosened her death grip on Xena fairly quick, though one arm still curled lightly around the warrior’s waist. Xena’s own arm was draped gently over the bard’s shoulders, tapered fingers playing absently with soft blonde hair. Full lips curved in her usual smirk, accented only slightly by her cut. “Yeah, and she got me out of the way when the tree’s roots gave out. Pretty damn good timing.”

Abby smiled back, still half-tucked in the comfort of Quinn’s arms. The close contact was fiercely reassuring, even with every part of her best friend’s back stretched tight and painful. Running her fingertips gently over the abused muscles, she felt them twitch beneath her touch, a hardly-there flinch passing over her shoulders. Her eyes met Gabrielle’s, and the Amazon Queen returned her almost imperceptible nod with one of her own. Obviously Xena’s body was hurting, too, not that either of them would say anything about it. A moment of perfect understanding passed between the two bards.

Warriors.

“Oy, Quinn, you try to slide down that ravine on your face?” Having gotten to her feet, Nikki padded over and studied the returning pair, one hand propped on her hip. “You two look like crap. Come ’ere.”

A soft blue-green glow swirled around the young sorceress’ fingers, and she lifted a hand to Quinn’s bruised cheek. After a few seconds, the dark wound smoothed and faded, scrapes up and down her lean body following suit. Finished, Nikki crooked a finger at Xena. “Your turn, Warrior Princess.”

“Nah – ” Xena opened her mouth to protest, then shut it again as Gabrielle pushed her a few steps forward, a no-nonsense expression on the Amazon Queen’s face. “Don’t even think about it, Xena.” The blonde folded her arms. “If she can help, you’re going to stand there and let her treat you.”

A wicked grin set her eyes sparkling. “Besides, I have plans that require you healthy.”

Xena’s smirk widened, and she stood passively while a giggling Nikki turned her magic the Warrior Princess’ own wounds. Abby groaned and buried her face in Quinn’s convenient shoulder. Seeing Thea’s amused grin, the younger blonde cursed under her breath.

It was gonna be a long walk back to the village.

Comments always welcome, though I know it kinda sucks. xD

Wasps and scary, stinging things!

2007-07-29T22:51:46Z

I hate hornets. And wasps, and yellow jackets, and even cute little fuzzy bumble bees. Been afraid of the damned things since elementary school. Only been stung twice - a bee once, a yellow-jacket the second time - but they nest every summer under the eaves of the house, so we have to spray and put up traps and whatnot.

Why am I mentioning this obscure fact? Simple. Dad got attacked by a bunch of hornets while we were outside doing yardwork this afternoon. Rather, I was washing one of the cars, he was trimming branches off a tree. Since they usually nest in the eaves, none of us knew there was a hive in the damned front yard - at least, until he pissed it off with the clippers. Took two neighbors' help to get them away from him, and he was stung about twenty-two times, most of them in the side of his head. Had to call a freaking ambulance to check him out.

No frigging way am I going back out there today. Nuh-uh, can't make me.

Is there such thing as a deadline complex?

2007-07-26T02:24:33Z

Seriously, I think there might be - if there is, I definitely have one. For some reason, every time I get a deadline for something, my brain absolutely refuses to focus on the work unless it "feels like it." Prime example: the deadline for submitting to KumoriCon's AMV contest is Friday. I'm still animating the second of three entries, nowhere near done. But my idiot brain was reminded this is also Xena month over at P&P, so all I keep coming up with is random new story ideas for Xena fiction. Or Xena fic-trailers or Xena music videos.

Even worse? I know that tomorrow I'll be freaking out 'cause I'm not done. And I still have a bet going to finish my entire website in one month. Someone shoot me already.

My First Journal Entry - Whooo.

2007-04-03T04:41:34Z

You can tell I'm horribly hyper and excited over this. *snicker* Anyway, I've decided to ignore my dislike of places like this in general and create a Journal, 'cause there's quite a few fun people here that I'd like to keep track of. Plus, it's a new place to post pics and stories - how can I say no to that?

No particular rants or anything much to babble about tonight, as I've got way, way too much to do. I'm headed to Sakura Con this weekend, and somehow I've gotta fit an entire site's worth of coding, three comics' worth of sketching, coloring and preliminary pics, and three more chapters of fanfiction to complete in the next three days. Not to mention somehow putting together three different costumes for me and one for my best friend. Yes, I'm insane. xD