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14 October 2007 @ 12:11 am
So sorry you guys. I fail at posting.

Title: Mythic
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Pairing: Barbossa/the Black Pearl
Summary: For #18: pure evil
Word Count: 259

Barbossa's hand rests lightly on the tiller, and he keeps one eye on the compass-- one that really works -- in his right hand, brow creased more than usual in annoyance. It's one of the little things that irks him about this ship.

The Black Pearl may be faster and sturdier and more powerful than any other on the sea, but there's no compass by the wheel, no place to put your sextant or any other means of navigation, except on your person. Almost as though she doesn't want you to know where you're going.

Or perhaps, Barbossa acknowledges, it's a test of worthiness -- any good captain can read the sea and sky well enough to find land, even if he doesn't have any other mans of navigation.

It's rather like sleeping with a married woman, he muses, adjusting the tiller ever so slightly. She move to his touch readily enough does everything he asks of her, and with every evidence of enjoyment, too -- she truly likes him, Hector Barbossa, the captain said to be so purely evil that Hell spit him back out -- but it is not he that she loves.

She will not obey his hopes as well as his guidance, does not fly over the waves towards their destination just for the joy of it, and she will not tell him what it is he's really searching for, though he's certainly slept beneath the bowsprit often enough.

Still, she likes him well enough -- and all that other stuff, like his reputation for evil, is pure myth. Really.

Title: Whitechapel Stagger
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Pairing: Jack/James (that's Sparrington)
Summary: You can't get anywhere in the Royal Navy with a lower-London accent, but it seems that you can't get very far in piracy without one. For #12: "That is private."
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 401

They found him at sea, clinging to a massive spar that by rights should have been waterlogged ages ago, spouting stories about Sea Princesses named after Navy ships, and talking sea turtles.

His beautiful filigreed sword still protruded from his chest.

Jack had thought to leave the man then and there, never mind that Fate had clearly left him there to be found. But then Jack looked into eyes as fair and changeable as the sea itself, and admitted that he really was a soft touch.

At first, Captain Sparrow believed that his crew would not accept James Norrington, with his neat habits and fine speech, even when he was drunk off his ass (though probably the fact that James was willing to get drunk off his ass in the company of pirates should have put those fears to rest.) After all, it wasn't easy to forgive a man for capturing and executing so many of one's fellows, though his life of doing so was now -- literally -- over. James would have to do more than just get drunk with them.

But there were some things that even the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow did not know about James Norrington....

"What I'd like to know is: when'd you learn that lovely manner of articulation?" Jack drawled, late at night, when they were curled around each other, finally still.

"I have not the slightest idea as to what you are referring, and at any rate, that is private."

"Ah, you can't tell me that, Jamie-luv. I'm certain I heard a bit of a lilt. Something English, a bit lower-London, perhaps?" He paused, but there was no reply. "It's a strange, strange world, but it defies the mind to explain how a nob like you learned such rough language."

James laughed a little, grudgingly. There was some silence before he replied, and this time, his fine accent had gone entirely. "Oh, Jacky. Wot's it t'yew, any'ow? I ain't in th' 'abit uv speakn' it, as it ain't jus' one uv yore fancy lilts, now is it, guv? 'S more uv a stagger, innit?"

Jack said nothing, surprised into speechlessness for once. Finally, he laughed, too. "Whitechapel stagger, is that what it's called? I shall have to remember that, for future reference."

He felt James's answering smile curve against the back of his neck. "Aye, guvnor," he muttered, "I suppose that 'Whitechapel Stagger' is quite appropriate."

Title: Mrs. Jacky Fletcher
Fandom: Bloody Jack
Pairing: Jacky/James (but with het! funny coincidence, huh?)
Summary: Mary "Jacky" Fletcher (nee Faber) and James Fletcher finally get to the consummation. For #19: crash
Rating: hard R
Word Count: 239

If it were anyone but Jacky, James would feel awkward and immoral, sliding his hand down the front of someone else's breeches, but then, he doesn't know any other girls who wear breeches, and even if he did, he wouldn't be married to any of them.

It has been a week of glad tidings. James has just gained the rank of Captain. His ship, the Constant is the sweetest thing on the ocean (she's possibly even the best ship there ever was, but he doesn't say that to Jacky.) And to cap it all, he is finally alone with Jacky for the first time since the wedding.

At last, at last, James gets to just look at her, bare all over, and feel her warm, firm body writhing beneath his hands. He finds out that her hands, though much smaller than his own, are calloused in the same places, and from the same shipboard duties, and perhaps for the first time, he appreciates this experience, for it is Jacky's determination, -- born and nurtured in the crashing of cannons and the sea -- that carries both of them through the first fumbling and uncomfortable penetration, to more adventurous and certainly more pleasurable activities.

And when they lie smushed together, on the cleaner half of the sheets, finally satisfied, James realizes that he actually likes being called "Jaimy-love" and that he loves his Jacky more than he could ever love a Mary.

Title: That's what fridges are for...
Fandom: FAKE
Pairing: Dee/Ryo
Summary: For #9: refrigerator
Rating: G
Word Count: 137

There is never any real food in Dee's refrigerator, and this is why they never, never, never crash at Dee's place, no matter how urgently they need to get to a bed, unless they have already had something to eat -- well, that and because Dee does not have a working alarm clock.

Invariably, Ryo will open Dee's fridge only to discover that all that it contains are a few beers, a forlorn thermometer, and a lump of what might once have been cheese -- or an apple -- he's never bothered to investigate further. Ryo despairs of ever teaching Dee to buy groceries. The last time he tried, Dee returned with exactly enough food to make dinner. Exactly enough.

Once, in bewilderment, Ryo asked Dee why he even has a full size refrigerator; apparently, it came with the place.

Title: NYPDemeter
Fandom: FAKE
Pairing: Dee/Ryo
Summary: Ryo is Demeter For #20: yellow
Rating: PG
Word Count: 132

Most mornings, the first thing that Dee sees when he wakes up is the window box, empty in the winter, and full of brilliant yellow sunflowers in the spring and summer. He wonders how Ryo keeps them growing, considering how polluted the air is around here, but probably it's just one of those Japanese secrets that gets handed down from generation to generation, like the secrets of ninja arts -- how to grow anything anywhere.

Dee likes the cyclic nature of the window box, dying and being renewed with the seasons, calling up vague stories about Greek or Roman goddesses, and reminding him that there is meaning to the seasons beyond the changing rates of homicide or drug busts or domestics. And that the hands of men can create as well as destroy.

Title: If
Fandom: Twilight
Pairing: Bella/Edward; almost Jacob/Edward
Summary: Alice has a vision. For #8: edge
Rating: R
Word Count: 179

I saw the wolf's jaw on my brother's neck, sharp teeth holding him fast. I saw my brother's hands, crooked like claws, rending long, bloody furrows in lustrous russet fur.

I saw That Boy, with his brown-everywhere skin and shiny black hair, but utterly without clothes, laid out eagerly in offering. And I saw Edward, my idiot brother, his teeth in the boy's thigh, his hand wrapped around the boy's brown cock.

The images were vivid, true visions, and for a moment, I was afraid. What choices could possibly push my universe into a Reality where our two separate races made love as naturally as fighting and sacrifice? I could not -- or would not -- comprehend it.

Fortunately, it was only a flash, almost too swift to register, and I long ago mastered the art of selective forgetting, of hiding things from Edward's particularly inquiring mind. It was gone as soon as perceived, slipping quickly back to the familiar, comfortable visions of Bella and Edward, with their dark hair mingling like metallic threads.

Away from the razor edge of possibility.

Title: Flawed Vessels
Fandom: Sandman
Pairing: Mazikeen/Lucifer
Summary: For #6: devil
Rating: PG
Word Count: 103

The thing she loves most about him is that he loves imperfection. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he loves honesty, for his favorites are always those whose flawed souls are reflected in their physical appearance. He views anything else as cowardice.

They have all kinds of epithets for him; the Morningstar, Satan, Old Nick, the Devil. And she suspects that he's rather fond of those too, as they are expressions of not only his flaws, but the consequences of them.

Lucifer likes ruthless honesty, and she -- a daughter of Lilith to her very core -- admires ruthlessness in any form.
Pegbronze_ribbons on October 25th, 2008 05:55 pm (UTC)
Here for the FAKE drabbles, and I enjoyed them - especially the one about the window box. Very lyrical.