Fanfiction, fanmixes, fanvideos. I claim no ownership to the original works featured here, only my own words.
- alice pieszecki
- amanda young
- audrey horne
- baby doll
- barb henrickson
- big love
- blind mag
- bobby drake
- captain barbossa
- dakota fanning
- darcy edwards
- demi lovato
- effy stonem
- elizabeth swann
- emily fitch
- emma nelson
- gaius octavian
- imagine me & you
- jaye tyler
- jim halpert
- juno macguff
- karolina dean
- katie fitch
- kitty pryde
- kristen stewart
- laura palmer
- margene heffman
- marie d'ancanto
- mark loring
- marni wallace
- naomi campbell
- nicki grant
- nico minoru
- octavia of the julii
- pam beesley
- pirates of the caribbean
- rachel gibson
- rebecca locke
- repo the genetic opera
- selena gomez
- shilo wallace
- snake simpson
- star wars
- sucker punch
- sydney bristow
- tara maclay
- the inside
- the l word
- the office
- the runaways
- tony stonem
- twin peaks
- whip it
title: teenage dream; a norma/chris fanmix
story by: immortality for horrorbigbang
note: general spoilers for “carrie”
1. opening to the sighs – goblin
2. past, present, and future – the shangri-las
present, go out with you? why not
do I like to dance? of course,
take a walk along the beach tonight? i’d love to,
but don’t try to touch me, don’t try to touch me
cos that will never happen again,
shall we dance
3.i wanna be your dog – joan jett
now i’m ready
to close my eyes
and now i’m ready
to close my mind
and now i’m ready
to feel your hand
4. you baby – the ronettes
i’m gonna live & die for only you
5. mister love – the toadies
we gonna show you a thing or two about love
love, love, love, love, love
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha…
6. you’re the one – the marvelettes
to go to parties & to dances
& to be the belle of every ball
to have the guys line up for chances
beggin’ me to dance with one & all
now give me just your romance
you don’t even have to know how to dance
i don’t need those other guys
7. little lost girls – the runaways
you make my heart sting
burning like it’s on fire
you’ve got me wanting
more from you in every way
8. stitch me back – blood red shoes
stitch me back, one by one!
stitch me back, one by one!
you mend me, you fix me…
9. teenage dream – the rescues
before you met me
i was alright but things
were kinda heavy
you brought me to life
now every february
you’ll be my valentine, valentine
title: this place is made of blood and bones
story by: ahkna for horrorbigbang — read it here
1. saddest blue dress – kat flint
all our children will smile like the first time we met
this will not be the first home I’ve ever wrecked
it’s alright, it’s alright
2. in these arms – the swell season
you were restless
i was somewhere less secure
so i went running to the road
3. ghost of a good thing – dashboard confessional
but, you’re chasin’ the ghost of a good thing
haunting yourself as the real thing
it’s getting away from you again
while you’re chasin’ ghosts
4. shadowland – sarah slean
by their hearts i warmed myself
5. we must destroy – jane vain and the dark matter
you tell me not to worry
but all your lines are so goddamn blurry
you keep sending me these beautiful songs
you know that I have loved you all along
6. army of me – bjork
you’re on your own now
we won’t save you
is too exhausted
7. this one i made for you – polly paulusma
just grab on to something
and dig in your heels
8. last known surroundings – explosions in the sky
9. seven devils – florence and the machine
they can keep me high
’til I tear the walls
’til I save your heart
and to take your soul
what have we done?
Info: for st_aurafina
They meet again, years later.
In the dark alley of Moira’s mind, Emma slides up, cool and calm, a hand on Moira’s hip before she can move away. Moira arches her back, a cat, reaches for her gun.
“I’m surprised they let you keep that. I hear you’re rather unstable these days.”
Moira turns, knows that the diamond woman knows the move is coming, side-steps anyway.
“They’d look the other way if I killed you, you know.”
Emma makes a noise of disapproval. “You wouldn’t, though.” She steps closer and the space between them sears with heat. Moira swallows, cocks her gun.
Emma only smiles, licks the side of Moira’s neck, bites her earlobe.
In the dark alley, Moira thinks she hears a noise. The breeze should feel cold, but she’s suddenly warm everywhere.
Title: Come on now, explode
Info: For Olivia. Astrid/Olivia, Fringe. No spoilers, but I’m still watching season 3. Forgive me if this is jossed unreasonably.
You could say that Walter made them do it. It wouldn’t be exactly, precisely true, but there was a truth to the statement, and if there was anything Astrid had learned in the last few years it was that there were many truths to consider at any given moment. It didn’t make any of them less true.
So if you said that Walter made them do it, you wouldn’t be wrong, but you’d be missing the rest of the story. To get to the rest of the story, Astrid thinks, you’d have to be Astrid yourself, and also Olivia, and that, Astrid thinks, is nearly impossible.
“Schrodinger’s cat,” Olivia volunteers, reading something in Astrid’s eyes that is a little like reading her mind. True and not true.
“You’ll forgive me if I’m not super concerned with the how and why at the moment,” Astrid gasps out, nearly biting her tongue as Olivia touches her — inside — right there.
“But you’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Olivia asks, her voice perfectly calm, aside for a sharp hitch of breath, her eyes narrowing as she focuses.
“Maybe I’m a little –” Astrid swallows. “Curious.”
Olivia quirks the corner of her smile. “I’ve been curious for a while, if we’re being honest here.”
“A-about?” Astrid manages, tightening her grip on the edge of the lab table.
“You’re quite serious. I wondered what you’d be like, like this. Totally undone.” Olivia stills her fingers, watching Astrid’s face carefully, calculating. And Astrid can’t help it if she moans for more, or maybe she can. There are many truths to consider, like the angle her back makes as she arches into Olivia’s touch, like the taste of the ocean when Olivia’s mouth crashes into her own.
Title: that i can stand less than you
Info: A wee Halloween drabble for shan_3414. Katie/Naomi.
Naomi’s gentle tugging of her hair is the only signal Katie gets that her sister’s ex isn’t just being a massive twat about this. Apparently, Katie’s being unreasonable and so fucking typical and “Halloween’s just a corporate invention designed to get young girls with their tits out ogled by men in some fucking ridiculous ‘rub my nuts for luck’ costume.”
Katie can’t help but laugh. “What the fuck are you even talking about?” She smacks Naomi gently on the shoulder. “It’s just a costume party. My costume party. And I want you there.”
“I don’t do Halloween, if I hadn’t made that already clear.” Naomi rubs at her shoulder, making a huge display out of Katie’s little tap.
Rolling her eyes, Katie settles in next to Naomi. Close. “I said I want you there.”
“Suppose you’ve already got some fucking horrible get up for me planned out.”
“Just wear this,” Katie squeezes Naomi’s corduroy-covered thigh. She smiles, maybe a little meanly, and bites at Naomi’s neck, right there in the courtyard. “You’ll blend right in.”
Title: we are two planets dancing
Info: The Ruins/The Uninvited. Amy/Anna. For majesdane, who wanted any horror femslash.
She laughs. “Oh, no thank you,” she says, her voice filtering down the hallway.
“No no thank you about it, Ms. Ivers. This is your required dosage for the day.” The faint clinking of a medicine cup. “Take it, swallow ’em, or I get someone in here to make you.”
“I’ve never been one for excessive force.”
She takes them, Amy thinks, listening to the silence that follows. She always does.
She takes them, and then settles in, writes another letter to the sister who’ll never come. (“Died in a fire. A damn shame, really. Tipped her over the edge, I think.” A gruff, male reply, “Anna’s a lifer. You’ll get used to it.”)
Must be nice, Amy thinks, being able to forget like that.
It’s her turn. Glenna at the door with a soft smile. “How are we today, Amy?”
“We?” Amy lifts an eyebrow, scratches absently at the inside of her elbow. The gloves make the sensation far less than satisfying, induce a kind of panic at the futility, but the gloves are better than the restraints. She knows that much.
Glenna makes a small clucking noise with her tongue. “You know we’ll just have to bandage that up again.”
“I’m aware of how this works.”
Glenna frowns, and Amy can see her making mental notes. It’s the sort of thing she might be doing if she weren’t here, on the other side of the glass. If she hadn’t taken that step backward onto the green. If she–
“Here you go.” The small cup slides through the opening in her door (cold metal. She leans there sometimes, it helps calm the plant.) “Now, let me see you swallow.”
She does. It makes the squirming stop, sometimes. (She doesn’t think about what that means.)
Her voice comes down the hallway again, following the quick staccato of Glenna’s footsteps. “Another letter! My sister really is kind to keep me informed.” She feels a sharp tug. Imagines that the girl is saying her name, talking to her, somehow.
She leans against the door, wondering how long before the vines strike again. They’re lying heavy in her stomach. Coiled.
“I’ve missed you,” the girl says, muffled. There’s a small crinkle of paper.
“I’ve missed you, too,” Amy says back, even if her voice doesn’t leave her room.
Info: written for dollsome in the Gay As In Happy comment-a-thon. Prompt was Christmas.
Even as Luce is reaching for the box, Rachel let’s go a torrent of words, twisting her hands together in her lap and leaning closer to her girlfriend. “I know it’s terribly cliche, doing this in the holidays, but I couldn’t think of a better time, honestly, because I don’t want this to have anything to do with the last time and…” the words drop off as Luce’s fingers finally work the paper undone.
“A ring,” she says, her voice thick. Luce runs a fingertip (calloused from handling flowers) over the top of it, a graceful circle decorated with inset diamonds, a ruby in the center. “You know, I thought you were done with marriage.” The words come out in a husky rush, as if Luce is afraid of what they mean.
Rachel settles against Luce with a sigh. “Not if the right one came along, mm?” She slides her hand against Luce’s, plucks the ring from its casing. She offers it to Luce’s bare finger, a tentative smile blooming on her face.
“You would go and ask me first, before I had the chance to sort you out.” Luce shakes her head, but a smile starts there as well. The ring fits; some devilish handiwork on Rachel’s part. Luce turns her hand this way and that in the light, the white catching, then the red. “It’s a yes, by the way.”
Rachel squeezes Luce’s hand, nudges her way in for a kiss. “Happy Christmas,” she whispers.
Drabble: i will be your lightning rod
Info: Imagine Me & You, Luce/Rachel, prompted by poey. A real drabble! 100 words, straight up.
Words exist for what she’s feeling in other languages, some combination of longing and guilt and simply knowing. Only it isn’t simple at all.
Rachel leans against the door of Luce’s apartment, her whole body going weak. By the time she hits the floor, divorce papers flying, she’s sobbing.
They drink together when her name fills in every blank line, and Luce’s hand rests on Rachel’s abdomen.
“You can do this,” is all that Luce says, knowing the words are out there, in other languages, hanging in the silence.
Rachel kisses her, wet with salt, and it’s simple after all.
Info: Amy/Stacy, The Ruins. For immortality.
A series of photos. Photos somehow not covered and tinted with green. Photos aged, and clear, and pristine.
First, they are five years old, looking at each other instead of the camera: Amy on the right, Stacy on the left. Stacy is knee-deep, covered in mud. Amy is laughing.
Then, seven or eight. Amy isn’t sure. Amy, in the picture, is pushing Stacy on a swing. They don’t start the planned photos until 8th grade. On the cusp of high school, on the cusp of adulthood. On the cusp of something…
Fourteen. At the last minute, Amy reaches to tuck back a loose hair, brushing her fingers against Stacy’s ear.
Fifteen, and their hands almost touch between them.
Stacy’s mother takes them to DC, to see all the museums. Sixteen: on the steps of the memorial, in the street, looking over the pond.
Twenty-one, sunburnt and drunk and smiling.
Twenty-two. Lipstick smudged. Hands held tight. Waiting for something to happen.
Amy recognizes that these are pictures of her. That she is the girl in these images. She knows these things and yet does not. She’d hold up a camera if she had one, point it down her arm at her face, and see, later, the space next to her.
They are all she has left, and even that is missing so much.