Wanton Destructive Behaviour of Moi (original) (raw)
fic: i want this (katniss/joanna) 1/2
Title: I want this
Fandom: hunger games
Pairing: Katniss/Joanna
Rating: PG
Summary: What happens when you want something, but having it cannot work?
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I want this.
She whispers. Barely heard. As it is barely spoken. But it pounds. Within your ears. Through your blood. Making your stomach clench. Heart skip.
Throat constricting. What is this? Fear. You are not used to it. Wait. No. That is wrong. A lie. You have become so accustomed to it. Fear is the blanket you wrap yourself in. Truth. You promised her. And here it is. In her words. Your palpable response. And it says something. You are not used to this. These feelings being enjoyable. This fear you appear to like.
It is not the abject terror. The fight or flight. The do or die. But fear of something else. Falling. Taking the leap. Possibilities. Something that could be better. Something you are not sure you deserve. That you might be too broken for. Look into her eyes. See she is just as broken as you. Perhaps you are both beyond repair. Maybe that is the point. The secret.
And you are famous for your courage. Your survivor mentality. Do not let it fail you now. She is leaning in. Sensing your hesitation. Seeing it for what it is. Uncertainty. In yourself. In your right to this. To her. And she ignores it. Like she has ignored so many other boundaries you set up. Not out of spite. But in spite. Of them. Of you. To show you. You can trust to let her in.
You are overthinking.
Lean in. It can be that simple. Command. Your body knows what to do. Natural response. Reach out. Touch. Take. Taste.
Lips press. Softly. Softly.
She tastes like winter. Clean. Refreshing. Undertones of spring. Or perhaps that is the wine on your tongues.
The kiss deepens. Strengthens. Taking on new shapes and sounds all its own. And your brain is quietening at her touch. Last thought permeates. This is right.
Peeta’s kisses were soft. Comfortable. Familiar. Tainted. With you.
Gale’s kisses were hurried. Hard. Rough. Tainted. By you.
But this. It is somehow pure. Despite you. Despite her. This is real This is truth.
Amber eyes flutter open before you. Burning with the flame more brilliant than that they say you have sparked. And they ignite a fire within your own soul. A passion. Desire. You gave never known before.
Realise you are staring.
Lean in. Stop thinking. Be in the moment. Feel. These things you have so long hidden. Forbidden yourself. Not acknowledged. For fear they would engulf you.
You do not know who you are. What you may become. What may come of anything. The world you knew. In constant, violent flux. But find you have come to realise. Are realising. Will realise. With the woman before you. That anything is possible.
***
You betrayed me.
The words spoken so often in the dark days. Said by so many. You do not understand what they mean.
They see your world differently. Believe you betrayed them. Their property. Their Katniss. Tainted. Damaged. Corrupted. By her.
Yet you know the truth. Know it was you that pushed. For more. For her. For this. They still believe you unfaithful. Despite your honesty. Never making promises. Never giving hope.
Until her.
She drags them from you. Late at night. Wrapped in silence. Breaking your own code. But not quite. Forever honest. To those who matter.
Thoughts of betrayal flitter across your mind in the dark hours. Watch her sleep. Know she is so much more than you deserve.
Think of Gale and Peeta. What they have said. Their thoughts etched across your mind. But then never seem to care your words. Your thoughts. You are an empty vessel for them. To fill with their feelings. Desires. Purpose. Uncaringly believe you a trophy. A fragile cup. To be won. Cherished and displayed. Theirs alone.
Forgetting. You belong to you.
***
I need this.
Your voice breaks. In your throat. The thick, all-encompassing silence that fell. Knowing this is it. The last time you may share this bed. The last you might see her. Know her. Tonight Johanna. Tomorrow the world.
It will be bloody. Lives lost on all sides. Victors know the cost of survival. There are no victors here. Just you. Her. The need for human contact. Love. Softness. Before the dawn. The sun will bring so much. Bullets and fire. Burning, screaming anger. Anguish. Death.
You first night together. The crispness will fade. Into distant memory. Blurred around the edges. Details hazy. But there are things you will remember. Each and every day. The touch of her skin. The taste of her. The feeling of belonging. Safety. Ecstasy.
Do not fool yourself. Know it is a first for you. Not her.
But all pales into insignificance. In those moments there is only this. There is only her. You. This truth you have built. Hold on tight. Keep it safe.
Until the morning comes. And with it everything you fear.
***
I miss this.
It is screamed. Shattering the world around you. Battering her. More than any weapon or fist ever has.
The war is over. So much has ended with it. There were no prizes for the victors. No accolades. No one won.
There was simply life. For the lucky ones. Not so different from before. At least on the surface. Simple.
Just beneath. Scratch the façade. See the new Republic. The belief in justice. The possibility of survival. The comfort of betterment. The Capitol is not dead. But it’s legacy is diminished.
Through it all. She stood beside you. There throughout. Strength. Honesty. Reminding you. Why you fight. Despite the death. Destruction. Countless, mindless, endless battles. She was a promise. Of the future. Of a life. A little better than before. A little less pain. A little more possibility. A little more freedom.
But time passes. Wars end. Pick up the pieces. Rebuild. Remake. Modelled in your image. Your designs. Too long. Too far.
The distance no longer merely physical. So much more.
We are not who we were.
J
The words read a thousand times. Screamed a thousand times more. Yet the words never lose their lustre on the page. Such inanity. Everything has changed. Why shouldn’t you? But you shape the world. And cannot fit yourselves into it. She is right. You simply did not want to hear it. See it. Believe it.
Years pass. Grey in your hair. Eyes lined. Time has passed. Though it has been kind. There is only so much kindness it can show. Always more than you felt you deserve.
You look out your window. See the sun. Shining weakly. Know sorting returns soon. The winters hard. Though softer than the old days. Children born. Cannot remember hunger now. But all know cold. Harsh. Bitter winds. Ice and snow blanket the ground. Months of white. Pure. Untainted. It was never like that in 12. The mines spewing out their fetid air. Choking the land for miles around. Blackening snow and man alike.
But it is melting now. Making roads passable. Life more liveable.
And so she comes.
Walking up the path. The same swagger you recall. The same sense of self. Not arrogance. But comfort. In herself. Her place. Her dominance of the world.
And suddenly you are a girl again. Transported back. Across space. Time. Back to the rebellion. Those days spent together. Nights spent within each other’s arms.
Heart pounds. Palms itch.
There have been others since. It has been more years than you care to remember. None stayed. All leave in the end. Even Peeta and Gale abandoned you. The only family you had left. Left for better lives. Better loves. Truer life. Not the life you’ve lived. Surrounded by others. But forever alone. Cannot get close. Even now. Too fearful. Of what you do not even know. Have not been able to name. For too many years. Simply afraid. To allow life to start. Love to grow. And so you push them away. Blame the other. Easier that way. Call it abandonment. Who are they to know. The truth from the lies. You have been lying to yourself for too long.
Know you should have fought. For her. For you. But you were too tired. Too much time on battlefields to start another war. And so you let her go.
Despite yourself. Despite everything you had shared. Promised to share. You made promises. Broken. And you blamed her for it. Allowed her to shoulder the burden. Of your apathy. Hung up your truth with the bow. Beside the door promising to comeback to it. To take it down. Some day soon. But your bow is long since warped. The string limp. Callouses upon your hand long since healed. And it is not the only thing damaged by lack of use.
Which makes this feeling all the more surreal. More frightening.
She approaches the house. The one you said you’d build together. Amongst the tress. Away from prying eyes. Tucked amongst nature. Hiding from reality.
Somehow it seemed right. To build this place. As if you thought she would return. Realise her mistake. If only you were here. Or if not. Something else. The life you had dreamt.it might come here instead. Despite the changes. Despite the absurdity. Despite yourself. It would find you. Or she would.
But it never did. She never did. Nor is she now. Another day of dreaming, in a world beyond your wildest dreams. Still you cannot find peace. Happiness. Contentment
It comes months later. The moment you waited all these years for.
I've been remiss please forgive me
December 15th, 2013
It's been a while...way too long (so long that logging on led to my account being blocked).
But I have made a decision I will write something to get my brain back into the habit and then finally finish the last two fics I was working on.....marking be damned, I miss fic!
Fic: Timing is Everything (C/K)
September 15th, 2012
The wind howls. Seeping through the cracks. Invading their sanctuary. Carved out in this place. Forged and built and earned. From back breaking work. From dangerous deeds. From everything that went before. Lending them this placed. A final refuge. In their twilight years. When all is said and done. All duties passed on. To younger bodies and less tired minds. This is their reward.
The snow falls. The fire roars. Emitting light and heat from the large stone hearth. Circling the two figures in a soft orange glow. Their high backed chairs pushed close. Hands grasped to bridge the space between them. So many years of such small things denied. They take the liberty. At any and all opportunities.
Faces once young and vibrant. Lost to a wrinkle of time. Hair luscious and bright. Now more grey than anything else. Bodies worn. But hearts pound the same as always. Beating in perfect synchrony.
It has all led them here. Quests to topple tyrants. Adventures to foreign lands. Wars against unknown enemies. Lives lived. Such rich lives. To have seen the mountains. Travelled the seas. Made love on beaches and moors. Fallen in love beside rivers. Heart broken in castles and forests. Loved friends. Lost friends. Lived and loved and laughed. Cried in joy and sorrow and remembrance.
So many years gone by. So few left to look forward to. But so much still to do. To make the most. Of this. This short time they have left. And hope. That the next life is kinder. There will be less to do. More time to be together. TO live and laugh and love in each other’s arms. Where duty is not their driving force. Where duty does not dictate their actions. When duty does not break their hearts and tear apart their souls. A simple life. Like this moment. These moments. Leagues away from any other person. High up a mountain. Surrounded by the nature they have spent so much of their lives passing by. In too much of a hurry to notice.
Even on nights like this. Even when it is all they can do to keep from freezing. It has all seemed worth it. The families they have had. The legacies they have left. The people they have helped and changed and known. All the years apart. Close enough to touch, but unable to do so. For duty. For honour. For the knowledge it would hurt too much when torn apart. By so called destiny.
But they did touch. They did know each other. As they should have known others. For that was all they could do. And even as the others have come and gone. As others have been bedded for their usefulness. It has always been another in their minds.
And now they can grow old together. Here. In this safe haven. Despite the years. Despite the wind and snow and cold. Despite everything. They have gotten this far. And neither will surrender. Nor give up. This brief time they have left together.
September 4th, 2012
icon review for LotS episode Hartland:
August 30th, 2012
Here are some icons as my review for LotS season 1 Episode revenant:
August 16th, 2012
Picspam:Why I Ship Cara/Kahlan Like It's My Job:
August 16th, 2012
Dear Diary,
Home is where the heart is. That is what I have always believed. So I am here. This place I know. A place I love.
But it is not the same. Or I am not. I have only been gone a short time. Who knew. So much could change. Yet it all looks the same. The woods I grew up in. The house I called home. The people I shared my life with. All so different. Yet so much the same.
I know it is me who has changed. The sword at my hip is what has done it. Even now I feel its weight. Pulling me. Reminding me. This is no longer where I belong. At least not now. When I do not know.
When will I return here? When will it feel like home again? Will it ever be the same? These questions I have no answers for.
Kahlan finds it dull here. So far removed from the places and people she is used to. She doesn’t say it. But I know. Can see it in her eyes. So full of unspoken words. So tired. Of this mundane backwater. Like a village she has visited a million times before. Bleeding into all the others. Only here because of duty. To me. To the quest. Constantly ready. Willing. Longing. To return to her own home. Where her heart truly belongs.
And I wonder. If this isn’t enough. Will I ever be enough? For her? So many things keep us apart. Make it forbidden. Dangerous. Exciting. Strip it all back. What is left? Really? Just a simple boy. From a simple place. I could never fit into her world. Of dignitaries and diplomacy. Meetings and masquerades. Her life is so different. From what I have ever experienced. I wonder if our worlds could ever collide. Mingle. Coexist. If not for the quest. This enforced destiny we both have.
Experience. That is the key. The thing that separates all other things. What makes a person, place, creature different. What we have experienced. Gone through. Suffered through. And the experiences we are willing to let ourselves have.
And I have experienced more than I ever thought possible. More than I ever knew there was. And so I have changed. As much as I cling to this. To my old ways. The old ideas. The ideal of home. I have been forced to change. To grow. Some way. But I know I am not done yet. I have a long way to go. And I fear. Sometimes late at night. That I will not like how I turn out. I am growing too fast. In so many directions. That I will end up twisted.
Zedd tells me I am good. That we fight for the greater good. But each time I swing my sword I feel it. Each time it cuts down a body. Pierces armor. Draws blood. I feel it. That part of me. That inch. The part that should never change. Never thought it could change. It slips away. Piece by piece. Little by little. I am losing my soul. My integrity. That place inside me. That loved and laughed and lived. That was born here. In this place. Slowly dies. Hacked away by my own sword. On some distant battle field. In some foreign land. Where it can be at peace forever. As I slip into darkness.
Fic: Cross That Bridge When We Come To it (Cara/Kahlan)
May 9th, 2012
Title: Cross That Bridge When We Come To It
Pairing: Cara/Kahlan
Rating: PG
Summary: Kahlan reflecting on changing her relationship with Cara, friends to more
A/N: Written for 
legendland for the picture prompt 'wooden bridge'