Title: Prudent Miss Lucas
Fandom: Pride & Prejudice
Pairing: Charlotte/Elizabeth
Count de Worde: 100
Rating: G
Note: Originally written for
femslash100.
Charlotte would not choose sense over love – not if she had any choice in the matter. When Elizabeth proclaimed as much, Charlotte was silent, for any reply would be impossible. She didn't have the choice, and could not marry where she loved, but to make Elizabeth understand this was (everything she wanted) not a task in which she could expect much success, and less felicity. As a child, she had spoken her heart freely, confessed all love and preference; but with age came understanding of wickedness, and a ring on her finger: a brand of betrayal, and her only protection.
Title: What Goddesses Get Up To When They're Bored
Fandom: Discworld
Pairing: Libertina/Sessifet
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 200
A/N: A drabbletag response for [Unknown site tag]'s prompt on
femslash100. Libertina is the goddess of the sea, apple pie, certain types of ice cream and short lengths of string, and Sessifet, of the afternoon.
'You have so many fetishes, my dear,' Sessifet sighs, not really disapproving. 'At least I only have one.'
'You have so many fetishes, my dear,' Sessifet sighs, not really disapproving. 'At least I only have one.'
Libertina ties the string tightly behind the divan, and kisses Sessifet slowly, softly. (The first stars, a cool wind, a taste of sun, and a touch of regret.) The goddess of the afternoon archs her back, a wordless invitation; breaking their connection, Libertina's eyes are drawn irresistably down. (Silky blue skin: naked, open, inviting.)
The room (silk-decorated, stone-built) is filled with a soft golden light. 'Better?' asks Libertina with an arched eyebrow.
A shadow of a smile flickers on Sessifet's lips. 'No, not yet.' She opens her legs, and so help her... her, Libertina must oblige the invitation. Slowly (patience) she runs her fingers down the goddess's thigh, down towards her center. (The taste of sea, sea fermented in every woman's most sacred parts, and she can hear its rush and the animal cries across its vastness as she dips her fingers into Sessifet.)
Libertina catches her passion, her sighs, then her cries. No-one makes love like a goddess – no-one could.
Down below, as evening approaches, the smell of baking wafts through darkening gardens. That night, a few dozen people find faith.
Title: Never Again Mentioned
Fandom: Discworld
Pairing: Gytha/Esme (forgive me!)
Rating: PG
Word count: 250
A/N: Another
femslash100 ficlet.
No-one ever said witching would be easy. Gytha didn't expect it, and didn't complain when called to it. The rewards were worth it. Her busybody soul was satisfied that a year out of her apprenticeship she already knew all of Lancre's little secrets.
Even so, she drank more as the secrets piled up. Drink made life seem pleasant; so did men. She'd always liked them, or sex, at least. She knew all those kinds of secrets too.
Esme was a crone already as a girl – no liquor for her, nor any men. (Gytha knew all of Esme's secrets too. Gytha's parents were positive sweethearts compared to hers; then again, so were almost anyone's.)
Esme seethed with strength, ready for every foe. She never gave an inch. Maybe that's what Gytha yearned for in Esme, why she liked her so much; Gytha's too mellow sometimes, and Esme too hard; together, they might learn to be resilient instead.
One night before Hogswatch week young Gytha put liquor into Esme, to test this. Neither of them ever spoke of it again, and neither of them ever forgot.
Gytha remembers it vividly sometimes, but only at night. Horrible, and beautiful: Esme losing control, Esme crying, Esme grasping her, and herself so drunk she'd kissed Esme, like men and women kiss, like she rarely jokes about even in old age because it's too close to home, and because of Esme.
Resilience is made of a mosaic of strengths – that's why there are always three witches.
Title: Her Correct Age
Fandom: Discworld
Pairing: Gytha/Esme
Rating: G
Word count: 145
A/N: Another
femslash100 ficlet.
Romance was nonsense, from beginning to end. Esmeralda played with it for a while with Mustrum and found the exercise mostly ridiculous. She was later confused by Gytha's bubbling sensuality in quite a different way, even drawn into it during a night before Hogswatch week that they would never mention again.
It was nonsense, and entirely improper, by which she meant it wasn't proper for her. Rushing into old age she felt for the first time that she was where she belonged: beyond sensuality, beyond expectations of marriage, beyond any possibility of children. She breathed a long sigh on her sixtieth birthday, and smiled, settling into her new rocking chair with a quilt around her legs. Gytha, who'd always be a girl no matter how old she got, gave her a queer look from the chair across, and answered Esme's glare with a hearty laugh.
Fandom: Pride & Prejudice
Pairing: Charlotte/Elizabeth
Count de Worde: 100
Rating: G
Note: Originally written for
Charlotte would not choose sense over love – not if she had any choice in the matter. When Elizabeth proclaimed as much, Charlotte was silent, for any reply would be impossible. She didn't have the choice, and could not marry where she loved, but to make Elizabeth understand this was (everything she wanted) not a task in which she could expect much success, and less felicity. As a child, she had spoken her heart freely, confessed all love and preference; but with age came understanding of wickedness, and a ring on her finger: a brand of betrayal, and her only protection.
Title: What Goddesses Get Up To When They're Bored
Fandom: Discworld
Pairing: Libertina/Sessifet
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 200
A/N: A drabbletag response for [Unknown site tag]'s prompt on
'You have so many fetishes, my dear,' Sessifet sighs, not really disapproving. 'At least I only have one.'
'You have so many fetishes, my dear,' Sessifet sighs, not really disapproving. 'At least I only have one.'
Libertina ties the string tightly behind the divan, and kisses Sessifet slowly, softly. (The first stars, a cool wind, a taste of sun, and a touch of regret.) The goddess of the afternoon archs her back, a wordless invitation; breaking their connection, Libertina's eyes are drawn irresistably down. (Silky blue skin: naked, open, inviting.)
The room (silk-decorated, stone-built) is filled with a soft golden light. 'Better?' asks Libertina with an arched eyebrow.
A shadow of a smile flickers on Sessifet's lips. 'No, not yet.' She opens her legs, and so help her... her, Libertina must oblige the invitation. Slowly (patience) she runs her fingers down the goddess's thigh, down towards her center. (The taste of sea, sea fermented in every woman's most sacred parts, and she can hear its rush and the animal cries across its vastness as she dips her fingers into Sessifet.)
Libertina catches her passion, her sighs, then her cries. No-one makes love like a goddess – no-one could.
Down below, as evening approaches, the smell of baking wafts through darkening gardens. That night, a few dozen people find faith.
Title: Never Again Mentioned
Fandom: Discworld
Pairing: Gytha/Esme (forgive me!)
Rating: PG
Word count: 250
A/N: Another
No-one ever said witching would be easy. Gytha didn't expect it, and didn't complain when called to it. The rewards were worth it. Her busybody soul was satisfied that a year out of her apprenticeship she already knew all of Lancre's little secrets.
Even so, she drank more as the secrets piled up. Drink made life seem pleasant; so did men. She'd always liked them, or sex, at least. She knew all those kinds of secrets too.
Esme was a crone already as a girl – no liquor for her, nor any men. (Gytha knew all of Esme's secrets too. Gytha's parents were positive sweethearts compared to hers; then again, so were almost anyone's.)
Esme seethed with strength, ready for every foe. She never gave an inch. Maybe that's what Gytha yearned for in Esme, why she liked her so much; Gytha's too mellow sometimes, and Esme too hard; together, they might learn to be resilient instead.
One night before Hogswatch week young Gytha put liquor into Esme, to test this. Neither of them ever spoke of it again, and neither of them ever forgot.
Gytha remembers it vividly sometimes, but only at night. Horrible, and beautiful: Esme losing control, Esme crying, Esme grasping her, and herself so drunk she'd kissed Esme, like men and women kiss, like she rarely jokes about even in old age because it's too close to home, and because of Esme.
Resilience is made of a mosaic of strengths – that's why there are always three witches.
Title: Her Correct Age
Fandom: Discworld
Pairing: Gytha/Esme
Rating: G
Word count: 145
A/N: Another
Romance was nonsense, from beginning to end. Esmeralda played with it for a while with Mustrum and found the exercise mostly ridiculous. She was later confused by Gytha's bubbling sensuality in quite a different way, even drawn into it during a night before Hogswatch week that they would never mention again.
It was nonsense, and entirely improper, by which she meant it wasn't proper for her. Rushing into old age she felt for the first time that she was where she belonged: beyond sensuality, beyond expectations of marriage, beyond any possibility of children. She breathed a long sigh on her sixtieth birthday, and smiled, settling into her new rocking chair with a quilt around her legs. Gytha, who'd always be a girl no matter how old she got, gave her a queer look from the chair across, and answered Esme's glare with a hearty laugh.
no subject
Date: 2006-09-23 11:09 pm (UTC)Perfectly in character, and so plausible... I loved it.
no subject
Date: 2006-09-24 08:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-24 04:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-24 05:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-24 06:18 pm (UTC)