citydancer
in
cues
much have been lost&found
Title: Threads
Author: citydancer
Prompt: Lost, found, magnificent things. One hour. (Used about fifty minutes. Managed to churn out a lot, though.)
Rating: R, sexy situations, some mention of lesbianism
Fandom: My own. It's a long, complicated one. Basically, it revolves around Ida, who can manipulate time. The poor people who orbit her gets dragged into her time-messes.
Notes: This first part is when Ida leaves Stockholm; her younger brother, Edmund, insults Miriam. The second part is Ida at the end. The third part is Embla, the mother of Ida and Edmund, remembering Andrew.
Lost, found, magnificent things.
Ida fully enjoyed being lost, Miriam was certain of this. The more days that passed, the angrier she grew, raging through Ida's abandoned room in the vast apartment, tearing out books from the shelves, throwing them across the room; only to have all emotion abate into nothingness and beg the forgiveness of the great writers through picking them up, dusting their covers off, and placing them back where they belonged.
Miriam was beginning to grasp that Ida actually had a family, but that they had kept themselves hidden while Miriam had been there. Now an elderly woman suddenly sat in the living room, stroking her bald head while staring at the television with glazed eyes. A young man skulked through the corridors, glancing at Miriam as she stood in another shadow before he slipped through a door.
The woman fascinated Miriam the most. Despite her age and obvious broken state of mind, she still sat with a straight back, chin held high, the loose kimonos she wore tied with satin sashes around her waist. When she sat in the living room, the TV would be on at a low volume, Doctor Who looping on the screen. Sometimes the woman would give out a laugh, shake her head, then fall silent again.
At these times, Miriam would stand at the end of the long corridor, staring down it at the Queen of the Living Room as the light of the TV shimmered across the Queen's face.
One day, while the Queen was watching ”Parting of the Ways”, her lips parted and tea cup in her hands, Miriam felt a tap on her shoulder as she slid into position to watch.
”Why do you keep looking at my mother?” the young man, or boy, asked.
”She's your mother?” Miriam asked, voice hushed. In the living room, Rose Tyler was upset at the time-traveling Doctor.
”She is,” the Manboy replied. ”And you're the ex-lover who threw my sister out of her own room.”
”Are you here to evict me?”
”No. It was about time someone did something like that to Ida. She's never met any resistance in her life.”
”Aren't you worried where she has gone off to? It's been a week.”
”You fucked her. You know she'll survive anything.”
Miriam slapped the Boyman and stormed to Ida's room, barricading the door.
*
Edmund and Miriam were destined to collide, Ida thought, a year later, standing at the end of the world she would know, the waters of the Atlantic crashing against her shinbones, the sound ear-deafening. She was about to untie the last bindings she had to the world collapsing about her, and it would be a magnificent ending, if there ever was one.
Behind her, the twins were holding hands, Miriam tugging at her shirt as it strained over her swollen belly. Edmund looked pale and queasy, and while Ida had tried to comfort her little brother as much as could, he still refused to listen to her sound reason.
”Some things will always happen,” Ida screamed over her shoulder, addressing both of them. The Atlantic did its best to drown her words out. ”Some things are always meant to be. Like the beginning and the end, the Alpha and the Omega, and of course...”
Taking another step out into the icy April water, Ida felt a sharp shell dig into her foot. ”There will always be one who can manipulate the things that matter the most.”
Thrusting her hands into the fabric of time, she began tearing it apart. The twins threw themselves at Ida, clinging to her arms, but for once they weren't trying to stop her, just hold on to her as the last thing they knew disappeared from under their feet.
*
At the beginning of the known universe, Embla is standing at Andrew's grave, hands tearing at her tousled hair, trying to contain herself from the insanity she was beginning to feel in her stomach.
”I used to be a siren, you know,” Embla had told Andrew the first time they met. He had laughed her straight in the face.
”No really!” Embla had continued, leaning forward with her cruel smile grazing her lips. ”I lived a beautiful life, or as beautiful as you can live, in a sea where everything is slowly polluting and dying, and you cannot sing loud enough to be overheard by the mechanical sirens of the ships sailing between our isles.”
”You're not from Greece,” Andrew interjected, but Embla had placed her finger on his lips.
”You talk too much at the wrong times. As I was saying, the mermaids can give up their voice and grow feet, the angels can fall, or saunter if they so prefer, to a more Earthly level, and so on. Every so-called mythical being can give something up to become human. You don't quite understand the fascination we have with you. You're so amazingly interesting, and complicated, and complex. We all want you, because mythical beings don't mix well.”
”I thought a mermaid and a siren would be a good match?”
”Oh, you know, it very quickly degenerates into... Well. Mermaids have sharp teeth and sirens sensitive skin.”
”Ouch.”
”So I grew bored of not being able to lure men to their end, and bound my wings, and bought a packet of cigarettes. The poison available these days sure beats ritual sacrifice. So crude, honestly.”
”Embla, you're so full of shit,” Andrew laughed. Embla flashed him a smile, sharp teeth glistening underneath her upper lip, and slid over into Andrew's lap, pinning him to the couch.
”Am I?” she whispered into his ear, a slight sing-song tilt to her voice. He gasped, and she felt the erection in his pants pressing against her inner thigh. ”Then how can I do this to you, without even trying? I'm just... Talking with you, aren't I?”
”Fuck, Embla,” Andrew gasped, gripping onto her hips, his nails digging through her flimsy blue dress, leaving small holes. ”Stop...”
”Are you sure?” His cock twitched, and he threw his head back.
”Please... Don't stop...”
She chuckled. ”Oh Andrew. They left out one big part in the myth regarding sirens. We didn't just lure men to us. We drove them insane with desire. I've smoked some of my voice away, but it still works, doesn't it?”
He shifted under her, about to pull her head down to his lips, when she pinned his hands to the wall, holding them in place with incredible strength.
”No, Andrew. We'll ride this out first.” His darkened eyes flashed angrily at her. ”Pun definitely intended.” She began moving her pelvis across the bulge in his pants, smiling her cruel smile, whispering small nothings into his ear.
Five years later, she's standing at his grave, remembering the crude way in which she seduced him, wishing she had been able to do something. Wishing she had never come home with a cold one night, wishing he had never felt too attached to her, wishing he had never touched her when she was ripe with pathogens ready to attack his broken immune system.
She lit another cigarette, trembling hands. When she looked up, she saw Andrew's ex, crying underneath her dark veil. Embla growled low in her throat, then lunged at the woman who dared to make a claim on Embla's dead husband, burning her eyes with the glowing cigarette.
Author: citydancer
Prompt: Lost, found, magnificent things. One hour. (Used about fifty minutes. Managed to churn out a lot, though.)
Rating: R, sexy situations, some mention of lesbianism
Fandom: My own. It's a long, complicated one. Basically, it revolves around Ida, who can manipulate time. The poor people who orbit her gets dragged into her time-messes.
Notes: This first part is when Ida leaves Stockholm; her younger brother, Edmund, insults Miriam. The second part is Ida at the end. The third part is Embla, the mother of Ida and Edmund, remembering Andrew.
Lost, found, magnificent things.
Ida fully enjoyed being lost, Miriam was certain of this. The more days that passed, the angrier she grew, raging through Ida's abandoned room in the vast apartment, tearing out books from the shelves, throwing them across the room; only to have all emotion abate into nothingness and beg the forgiveness of the great writers through picking them up, dusting their covers off, and placing them back where they belonged.
Miriam was beginning to grasp that Ida actually had a family, but that they had kept themselves hidden while Miriam had been there. Now an elderly woman suddenly sat in the living room, stroking her bald head while staring at the television with glazed eyes. A young man skulked through the corridors, glancing at Miriam as she stood in another shadow before he slipped through a door.
The woman fascinated Miriam the most. Despite her age and obvious broken state of mind, she still sat with a straight back, chin held high, the loose kimonos she wore tied with satin sashes around her waist. When she sat in the living room, the TV would be on at a low volume, Doctor Who looping on the screen. Sometimes the woman would give out a laugh, shake her head, then fall silent again.
At these times, Miriam would stand at the end of the long corridor, staring down it at the Queen of the Living Room as the light of the TV shimmered across the Queen's face.
One day, while the Queen was watching ”Parting of the Ways”, her lips parted and tea cup in her hands, Miriam felt a tap on her shoulder as she slid into position to watch.
”Why do you keep looking at my mother?” the young man, or boy, asked.
”She's your mother?” Miriam asked, voice hushed. In the living room, Rose Tyler was upset at the time-traveling Doctor.
”She is,” the Manboy replied. ”And you're the ex-lover who threw my sister out of her own room.”
”Are you here to evict me?”
”No. It was about time someone did something like that to Ida. She's never met any resistance in her life.”
”Aren't you worried where she has gone off to? It's been a week.”
”You fucked her. You know she'll survive anything.”
Miriam slapped the Boyman and stormed to Ida's room, barricading the door.
*
Edmund and Miriam were destined to collide, Ida thought, a year later, standing at the end of the world she would know, the waters of the Atlantic crashing against her shinbones, the sound ear-deafening. She was about to untie the last bindings she had to the world collapsing about her, and it would be a magnificent ending, if there ever was one.
Behind her, the twins were holding hands, Miriam tugging at her shirt as it strained over her swollen belly. Edmund looked pale and queasy, and while Ida had tried to comfort her little brother as much as could, he still refused to listen to her sound reason.
”Some things will always happen,” Ida screamed over her shoulder, addressing both of them. The Atlantic did its best to drown her words out. ”Some things are always meant to be. Like the beginning and the end, the Alpha and the Omega, and of course...”
Taking another step out into the icy April water, Ida felt a sharp shell dig into her foot. ”There will always be one who can manipulate the things that matter the most.”
Thrusting her hands into the fabric of time, she began tearing it apart. The twins threw themselves at Ida, clinging to her arms, but for once they weren't trying to stop her, just hold on to her as the last thing they knew disappeared from under their feet.
*
At the beginning of the known universe, Embla is standing at Andrew's grave, hands tearing at her tousled hair, trying to contain herself from the insanity she was beginning to feel in her stomach.
”I used to be a siren, you know,” Embla had told Andrew the first time they met. He had laughed her straight in the face.
”No really!” Embla had continued, leaning forward with her cruel smile grazing her lips. ”I lived a beautiful life, or as beautiful as you can live, in a sea where everything is slowly polluting and dying, and you cannot sing loud enough to be overheard by the mechanical sirens of the ships sailing between our isles.”
”You're not from Greece,” Andrew interjected, but Embla had placed her finger on his lips.
”You talk too much at the wrong times. As I was saying, the mermaids can give up their voice and grow feet, the angels can fall, or saunter if they so prefer, to a more Earthly level, and so on. Every so-called mythical being can give something up to become human. You don't quite understand the fascination we have with you. You're so amazingly interesting, and complicated, and complex. We all want you, because mythical beings don't mix well.”
”I thought a mermaid and a siren would be a good match?”
”Oh, you know, it very quickly degenerates into... Well. Mermaids have sharp teeth and sirens sensitive skin.”
”Ouch.”
”So I grew bored of not being able to lure men to their end, and bound my wings, and bought a packet of cigarettes. The poison available these days sure beats ritual sacrifice. So crude, honestly.”
”Embla, you're so full of shit,” Andrew laughed. Embla flashed him a smile, sharp teeth glistening underneath her upper lip, and slid over into Andrew's lap, pinning him to the couch.
”Am I?” she whispered into his ear, a slight sing-song tilt to her voice. He gasped, and she felt the erection in his pants pressing against her inner thigh. ”Then how can I do this to you, without even trying? I'm just... Talking with you, aren't I?”
”Fuck, Embla,” Andrew gasped, gripping onto her hips, his nails digging through her flimsy blue dress, leaving small holes. ”Stop...”
”Are you sure?” His cock twitched, and he threw his head back.
”Please... Don't stop...”
She chuckled. ”Oh Andrew. They left out one big part in the myth regarding sirens. We didn't just lure men to us. We drove them insane with desire. I've smoked some of my voice away, but it still works, doesn't it?”
He shifted under her, about to pull her head down to his lips, when she pinned his hands to the wall, holding them in place with incredible strength.
”No, Andrew. We'll ride this out first.” His darkened eyes flashed angrily at her. ”Pun definitely intended.” She began moving her pelvis across the bulge in his pants, smiling her cruel smile, whispering small nothings into his ear.
Five years later, she's standing at his grave, remembering the crude way in which she seduced him, wishing she had been able to do something. Wishing she had never come home with a cold one night, wishing he had never felt too attached to her, wishing he had never touched her when she was ripe with pathogens ready to attack his broken immune system.
She lit another cigarette, trembling hands. When she looked up, she saw Andrew's ex, crying underneath her dark veil. Embla growled low in her throat, then lunged at the woman who dared to make a claim on Embla's dead husband, burning her eyes with the glowing cigarette.