Fic Request for Lepetitarsenic
Fic Request for Lepetitarsenic
Title: Self Destruct in Five
Author: loridarling
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: Gosh. I hope it's alright. I did have this other
epic planned, but uni got in the way (as it always seems to do) and so
I present a series of snapshots. I was going for emotional distance.
Summary: The war was everything they hoped it wouldn't be.
Broken shells of people litter the wizarding world. Two people in the middle
cling to each other. It feels right.
Self Destruct in Five
Five.
You say you want a revolution.
Well, you know
We all want to change the world.
It started in the autumn and ended in the winter - a whole year and a
little more of fighting darkness. The fight didn’t happen out in the
beyond, as some of us though it would. It happened in the streets, within
our homes, in the bedroom. It was devastating. Trust was a commodity
that was rare. Love a commodity that many feared didn’t exist anymore. We
survived on need. We survived on hunger. We survived on survival. Some
didn’t. Some weren’t strong enough. Didn’t have enough need. Couldn’t
separate themselves from the death and destruction lapping at their
front doors. They were the weak. The weak never survive revolution. She was
anything but weak.
Four.
Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes,
That call me on and on across the universe.
Nothing’s going to change my world.
I can remember the fighting vividly. It haunts me. I can sit at my
nice, utilitarian desk in the Department of Investigation and see flashes
of light, shards of memory that come hurtling into my ordered existence
with all the fury of a tsunami. I hate it when it happens. Sometimes
regularly. Sometimes not at all. Sometimes, I can’t take a breath between
one blood drenched remembrance and the next. It feels like I will
drown. I may well yet.
Looking into the eyes of the haunted survivors as they ask me for news
of relatives, friends, lovers, twists my soul like a dishcloth.
Wringing out tears until I can’t cry anymore and feel like a hollowed out
version of myself - a shell. I will be swept away.
Three.
You want her, you need her.
And yet you don't believe her
When she said her love is dead.
You think she needs you.
Her cigarette is mesmerising. The swish and flick of her hand taking me
back to days in the charms classroom - days that seem long forgotten in
the muddy depths of time. It’s too long ago. Her hair is still bushy.
She’s still obnoxious I suppose. Always was. I haven’t seen her since
the end of the war when she told me she didn’t need me anymore. There was
no question of whether I needed her or not. I didn’t of course. That’s
not the point.
The air’s too cold for spring. I can see her breath hanging in front of
her face like snowclouds. I hear she has a desk job. Something to do
with investigating the past. That’s one can of flobberworms I wouldn’t be
touching, but she was always tougher than I was. Strong, yet brittle.
That describes her. Sometimes, I was terrified that she’d crack and
bring us all down with her. She didn’t. She was gold. Pure gold.
Holding her in my arms again would be magic.
“Got a light?”
Eyes too bright with unshed tears stare back at me.
Two.
When I hold you in my arms
And I feel my finger on your trigger,
I know no one can do me no harm
Because happiness is a warm gun.
The softness of his skin still startles me, even after all these years.
Ivory and silver - he was a lifeline to me in blood spattered moments
long ago. Maybe he can pull me out again. Whispered words in darkness -
nothing is said of love - Tell me if you like that, baby. Been so long.
Fuck, I missed you. Missed you too. Maybe we don’t say the word because
it’s too true. Maybe we don’t say the word because we are unable to
love. Tears mingle with sweat. Awful thought. Childhood imaginings of love
all disposed of, bloodshed and loss and pain took care of those. Harsh
breathing. Words seem to become useless.
He comes violently, as if he’s been waiting for release for years.
Maybe he has. I wouldn’t know. I’m not going to ask. Life outside of this
time does not exist. Life outside of this time is all fear, loathing,
betrayal, denial, and the deep red of lifeblood spilling on unfriendly
ground. Life outside of this time is not worth living. All that’s worth
living is now, with him beneath me, smelling of tobacco, old books and
me. Maybe, I think to myself as I grope in the dark for something of
him, something solid to grasp, maybe this is love.
One.
And when the broken hearted people
Living in the world agree,
There will be an answer, let it be.
She’s beautiful, desolately so in the morning light. Ropes of unruly
hair climb along pale skin; stark contrast makes her seem ill. She clings
to me, as if I’m a saviour here to pull her from desperate collapse. I
will be if that’s what she needs. I’ll be anything she needs, even
though I don’t know if I can keep the tenuous grasp I have on reality for
very long. The truth is, and I’ve always been afraid of the truth, the
truth is that it’s cold, all too cold outside, as if spring will never
come again, and I long desperately to keep this girl warm. Love isn’t
the reason that I’m here. Strength and stability and surety and numbness
are why I’m here. Why should love even enter into it? She needs me. I
need her. Can anything be more right than that?
End.
Request:
LJ Username: lepetitarsenic
Age: 17
Rating(s) of the fic you want: Any, though not a huge smut
person.
One tone/mood you want your gift to include: Emotional distance.
i.e. no heavy angst or big, epic, romance. Unless that's very much so
your thing.
One element/theme/item you want your gift to include: Future
employment.
One common cliche you don't want your gift to include: Childish
bickering. They're getting on in years, you know.
Thank you for participating in the Spring Forward Exchange!
Title: Self Destruct in Five
Author: loridarling
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: Gosh. I hope it's alright. I did have this other
epic planned, but uni got in the way (as it always seems to do) and so
I present a series of snapshots. I was going for emotional distance.
Summary: The war was everything they hoped it wouldn't be.
Broken shells of people litter the wizarding world. Two people in the middle
cling to each other. It feels right.
Self Destruct in Five
Five.
You say you want a revolution.
Well, you know
We all want to change the world.
It started in the autumn and ended in the winter - a whole year and a
little more of fighting darkness. The fight didn’t happen out in the
beyond, as some of us though it would. It happened in the streets, within
our homes, in the bedroom. It was devastating. Trust was a commodity
that was rare. Love a commodity that many feared didn’t exist anymore. We
survived on need. We survived on hunger. We survived on survival. Some
didn’t. Some weren’t strong enough. Didn’t have enough need. Couldn’t
separate themselves from the death and destruction lapping at their
front doors. They were the weak. The weak never survive revolution. She was
anything but weak.
Four.
Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes,
That call me on and on across the universe.
Nothing’s going to change my world.
I can remember the fighting vividly. It haunts me. I can sit at my
nice, utilitarian desk in the Department of Investigation and see flashes
of light, shards of memory that come hurtling into my ordered existence
with all the fury of a tsunami. I hate it when it happens. Sometimes
regularly. Sometimes not at all. Sometimes, I can’t take a breath between
one blood drenched remembrance and the next. It feels like I will
drown. I may well yet.
Looking into the eyes of the haunted survivors as they ask me for news
of relatives, friends, lovers, twists my soul like a dishcloth.
Wringing out tears until I can’t cry anymore and feel like a hollowed out
version of myself - a shell. I will be swept away.
Three.
You want her, you need her.
And yet you don't believe her
When she said her love is dead.
You think she needs you.
Her cigarette is mesmerising. The swish and flick of her hand taking me
back to days in the charms classroom - days that seem long forgotten in
the muddy depths of time. It’s too long ago. Her hair is still bushy.
She’s still obnoxious I suppose. Always was. I haven’t seen her since
the end of the war when she told me she didn’t need me anymore. There was
no question of whether I needed her or not. I didn’t of course. That’s
not the point.
The air’s too cold for spring. I can see her breath hanging in front of
her face like snowclouds. I hear she has a desk job. Something to do
with investigating the past. That’s one can of flobberworms I wouldn’t be
touching, but she was always tougher than I was. Strong, yet brittle.
That describes her. Sometimes, I was terrified that she’d crack and
bring us all down with her. She didn’t. She was gold. Pure gold.
Holding her in my arms again would be magic.
“Got a light?”
Eyes too bright with unshed tears stare back at me.
Two.
When I hold you in my arms
And I feel my finger on your trigger,
I know no one can do me no harm
Because happiness is a warm gun.
The softness of his skin still startles me, even after all these years.
Ivory and silver - he was a lifeline to me in blood spattered moments
long ago. Maybe he can pull me out again. Whispered words in darkness -
nothing is said of love - Tell me if you like that, baby. Been so long.
Fuck, I missed you. Missed you too. Maybe we don’t say the word because
it’s too true. Maybe we don’t say the word because we are unable to
love. Tears mingle with sweat. Awful thought. Childhood imaginings of love
all disposed of, bloodshed and loss and pain took care of those. Harsh
breathing. Words seem to become useless.
He comes violently, as if he’s been waiting for release for years.
Maybe he has. I wouldn’t know. I’m not going to ask. Life outside of this
time does not exist. Life outside of this time is all fear, loathing,
betrayal, denial, and the deep red of lifeblood spilling on unfriendly
ground. Life outside of this time is not worth living. All that’s worth
living is now, with him beneath me, smelling of tobacco, old books and
me. Maybe, I think to myself as I grope in the dark for something of
him, something solid to grasp, maybe this is love.
One.
And when the broken hearted people
Living in the world agree,
There will be an answer, let it be.
She’s beautiful, desolately so in the morning light. Ropes of unruly
hair climb along pale skin; stark contrast makes her seem ill. She clings
to me, as if I’m a saviour here to pull her from desperate collapse. I
will be if that’s what she needs. I’ll be anything she needs, even
though I don’t know if I can keep the tenuous grasp I have on reality for
very long. The truth is, and I’ve always been afraid of the truth, the
truth is that it’s cold, all too cold outside, as if spring will never
come again, and I long desperately to keep this girl warm. Love isn’t
the reason that I’m here. Strength and stability and surety and numbness
are why I’m here. Why should love even enter into it? She needs me. I
need her. Can anything be more right than that?
End.
Request:
LJ Username: lepetitarsenic
Age: 17
Rating(s) of the fic you want: Any, though not a huge smut
person.
One tone/mood you want your gift to include: Emotional distance.
i.e. no heavy angst or big, epic, romance. Unless that's very much so
your thing.
One element/theme/item you want your gift to include: Future
employment.
One common cliche you don't want your gift to include: Childish
bickering. They're getting on in years, you know.
Thank you for participating in the Spring Forward Exchange!