More Multifandom Drabbles
Mar. 23rd, 2004 08:34 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
guede-mazaka.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
rareslashAuthor: Guede Mazaka
Rating: G-NC-17. See individual drabbles.
Pairing: See individual drabbles.
Feedback: Fave lines, gross errors, whatever you want to tell me.
Disclaimer: Nothing’s mine.
Summary: Shots from various universes.
Nihil Obstat [Nothing Stands in the Way]: NC-17, for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
signofawave
Trees, and trees, and trees. That was all Quintus ever saw of Germania, and it would most likely be all he remembered.
Bark shoving into the back of his head, seeming to press through the leather and plates of his armor. A drifting shower of razor-scented pine needles that somehow worked themselves into every chink and crack. He clutched for support and felt metal slice into his palms, the hot blood pulsing out with every ragged breath.
Maximus made no sound as he continued to twist and jerk and ram Quintus into the trunk. His eyes were still maddened with battle, only a faint sliver of reason remaining to guarantee a return to sanity. He snapped his body forward one last time, then momentarily sagged before yanking out to let Quintus slump against the tree.
The general began to turn, then halted and offered a rag. “We need to get back to camp.”
Only cool, distant logic in his gaze now. It chilled as much as it warmed.
* * *
Changing Directory: PG, fordreamiflame
Neo hasn’t told anyone yet except Trinity, but he can see the code inside people. When they’re in the Matrix. When they’re jacked in with electricity sizzling their synapses and the numbers are shooting through their veins like so much sparkly gold cocaine.
It’s still different from what he sees when he looks at an Agent. Or a program walking around in human form. Looking at someone like Trinity or even Morpheus is nothing like looking at Seraph. Sparring with them is nothing like fighting with him. He’s a crackling river, always changing flow and giving into the blows so he can rear back into a colossal wave. The glyphs tingle when they slip away from Neo’s fists, when they graze past his arms and head. It’s whirling in water set afire, in an electrical sea that threatens to just pound him beneath its great currents of—
And then the code settles into serenity, still and constant. Leaving Neo out of breath. Only scorched, not ignited.
He wonders why that bothers him.
* * *
Hearth and Heart: Norse myth, G, forviva_gloria
Frigga knows that her husband strays. She also knows that he fears. Oh, not her—the end. He’s seen and he’s been told of the wolf-age to come, and of the sole two survivors. So he spreads his seed far and wide, trying to ensure that his blood will live on in the world that comes after theirs.
He knows that she is content with her quiet spinning. He knows that she has her own ways of learning things, and he knows that she agrees with him. It’s a comfortable relationship, and beneath all the trappings of godhood and warrior’s ways, that is all a woman can ask of a man in these times.
But she still lacks, and aches in the cold. She has her own ways of dealing with that, too—
golden head pillowed upon her breasts, that famous necklace trailing over both their bodies sweet smile and quiet joy
--perhaps he knows of that, his mess from which she’s woven bright gold. She cares not. His place is out in the world, fighting and searching and struggling. Hers is here, watching the skies and tending the wounded.
* * *
Semantics: G, forsnowpiratess
“England. There’s something…”
“What about it?”
“James, you’re being very distracting, and I’m trying to…England, all right? Just England. Not Great Britain. Not—”
“What we do, we do for England. That’s why we say that. Alec, how many vodkas have you had?”
“And Scotland, and Wales, and the Irish…and hell, even the bloody Americans. The whole world, Bond. But all right, we’re only answerable to London. So it is for England. Only England. Always England.”
“You’re drunk.”
“God, I hope so.”
Rating: G-NC-17. See individual drabbles.
Pairing: See individual drabbles.
Feedback: Fave lines, gross errors, whatever you want to tell me.
Disclaimer: Nothing’s mine.
Summary: Shots from various universes.
Nihil Obstat [Nothing Stands in the Way]: NC-17, for
signofawaveTrees, and trees, and trees. That was all Quintus ever saw of Germania, and it would most likely be all he remembered.
Bark shoving into the back of his head, seeming to press through the leather and plates of his armor. A drifting shower of razor-scented pine needles that somehow worked themselves into every chink and crack. He clutched for support and felt metal slice into his palms, the hot blood pulsing out with every ragged breath.
Maximus made no sound as he continued to twist and jerk and ram Quintus into the trunk. His eyes were still maddened with battle, only a faint sliver of reason remaining to guarantee a return to sanity. He snapped his body forward one last time, then momentarily sagged before yanking out to let Quintus slump against the tree.
The general began to turn, then halted and offered a rag. “We need to get back to camp.”
Only cool, distant logic in his gaze now. It chilled as much as it warmed.
Changing Directory: PG, for
dreamiflameNeo hasn’t told anyone yet except Trinity, but he can see the code inside people. When they’re in the Matrix. When they’re jacked in with electricity sizzling their synapses and the numbers are shooting through their veins like so much sparkly gold cocaine.
It’s still different from what he sees when he looks at an Agent. Or a program walking around in human form. Looking at someone like Trinity or even Morpheus is nothing like looking at Seraph. Sparring with them is nothing like fighting with him. He’s a crackling river, always changing flow and giving into the blows so he can rear back into a colossal wave. The glyphs tingle when they slip away from Neo’s fists, when they graze past his arms and head. It’s whirling in water set afire, in an electrical sea that threatens to just pound him beneath its great currents of—
And then the code settles into serenity, still and constant. Leaving Neo out of breath. Only scorched, not ignited.
He wonders why that bothers him.
Hearth and Heart: Norse myth, G, for
viva_gloriaFrigga knows that her husband strays. She also knows that he fears. Oh, not her—the end. He’s seen and he’s been told of the wolf-age to come, and of the sole two survivors. So he spreads his seed far and wide, trying to ensure that his blood will live on in the world that comes after theirs.
He knows that she is content with her quiet spinning. He knows that she has her own ways of learning things, and he knows that she agrees with him. It’s a comfortable relationship, and beneath all the trappings of godhood and warrior’s ways, that is all a woman can ask of a man in these times.
But she still lacks, and aches in the cold. She has her own ways of dealing with that, too—
golden head pillowed upon her breasts, that famous necklace trailing over both their bodies sweet smile and quiet joy
--perhaps he knows of that, his mess from which she’s woven bright gold. She cares not. His place is out in the world, fighting and searching and struggling. Hers is here, watching the skies and tending the wounded.
Semantics: G, for
snowpiratess“England. There’s something…”
“What about it?”
“James, you’re being very distracting, and I’m trying to…England, all right? Just England. Not Great Britain. Not—”
“What we do, we do for England. That’s why we say that. Alec, how many vodkas have you had?”
“And Scotland, and Wales, and the Irish…and hell, even the bloody Americans. The whole world, Bond. But all right, we’re only answerable to London. So it is for England. Only England. Always England.”
“You’re drunk.”
“God, I hope so.”
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no subject
Date: 2004-09-06 12:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-06 04:36 pm (UTC)