meroure: girl (Amy, Dr. Who) sitting up in bed, face obscured (we're all stories in the end)
[personal profile] meroure
Title: hold matches at street signs
Fandom: Criminal Minds / Doctor Who
Author: [personal profile] meroure
Rating: teen/pg13
Pairing: Amy Pond/ Spencer Reid
Content Notice: Content is usual to the both series.
Disclaimer: Nothing is real and nothing is owned.
Author's Note: Amnestied story for the July 2011 Comment Fic Challenge.
Word Count: 3166
Summary:

Spencer Reid is used to tall-tales and improbabilities rooted in truth. Amy asks, "do you believe me?"

And he says, "yes," because he believes that in her mind the tales are real: of raggedy doctors, and blue boxes. Of boys who waited and daughters that grew old.



archiveofourown | dreamwidth

saekhwa: Text that reads: 'Telle est la vie des mots' (Such is the life of words) (such is the life of words)
[personal profile] saekhwa
Day 25:
Out of the mournful sweetness of touching
comes love
like breakfast.



Day 26:
The lady of water, rising on the beach,
a piano at her fingertips, shame
on her lips and a flute's speech.


Day 27:
Still, I search these woods and find nothing worse
than myself, caught between the grapes and the thorns.


Day 28:
At last!
she cried out,
and locked the door.


Day 29:
Dearest,
although everything has happened,
nothing has happened.


Day 30:
You do not love anyone. She is not growing a boy;
she is enlarging a stone to wear around her neck.


Day 31:
they both die like waves breaking over me
and I am drowning a little,
but always swimming

littlebutfierce: (otome youkai zakuro op)
[personal profile] littlebutfierce
In before the end of the amnesty period! \o/

Title: A Stern Heart
Fandom: Otome Youkai Zakuro
Author: [personal profile] littlebutfierce/[archiveofourown.org profile] paperwar
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Agemaki/Zakuro
Summary: Agemaki's a coward, and Zakuro isn't, and that's all there is to it.
Content Notice: None
Disclaimer: No infringement intended, I don't own the series, etc.
Author's Note: My prompt was:
Blind with pain she limps home.
The thoroughbred has stood on her foot.
He rested there like a building.
He grew into her foot until they were one.
The marks of the horseshoe printed
into her flesh, the tips of her toes
ripped off like pieces of leather,
three toenails swirled like shells
and left to float in blood in her riding boot.

Word Count: 2036

A Stern Heart
pf_mod: modern pseudo-cubist painting of a red headed woman holding a book with a red cover (Default)
[personal profile] pf_mod
Hi, everyone!

I just wanted to remind you guys that if anyone needs to post their fic from the Anne Sexton round, the amnesty period will end at 12:00 CST on September 30.

Also, if there are any prompts from July that you wanted to write, this is your chance!
pf_mod: modern pseudo-cubist painting of a red headed woman holding a book with a red cover (Default)
[personal profile] pf_mod
from The Break Away

they both die like waves breaking over me
and I am drowning a little,
but always swimming
pf_mod: modern pseudo-cubist painting of a red headed woman holding a book with a red cover (Default)
[personal profile] pf_mod
from The Hangman

You do not love anyone. She is not growing a boy;
she is enlarging a stone to wear around her neck.
pf_mod: modern pseudo-cubist painting of a red headed woman holding a book with a red cover (Default)
[personal profile] pf_mod
Sorry I'm so late, guys!

from Letter Written on a Ferry While Crossing Long Island Sound

Dearest,
although everything has happened,
nothing has happened.
pf_mod: modern pseudo-cubist painting of a red headed woman holding a book with a red cover (Default)
[personal profile] pf_mod
from Kind Sir: These Woods

Still, I search these woods and find nothing worse
than myself, caught between the grapes and the thorns.
pf_mod: modern pseudo-cubist painting of a red headed woman holding a book with a red cover (Default)
[personal profile] pf_mod
from The Ballad of the Lonely Masturbator

The lady of water, rising on the beach,
a piano at her fingertips, shame
on her lips and a flute's speech.
saekhwa: Text on gray background that reads: 'Are we battleships for authorship, a rich man's gun?' (rich man's gun)
[personal profile] saekhwa
Day 17:
I open the eyes
and they go sick like dogs
with what they have seen.


Day 18:
I sit here on the spike of truth.
No one to hate except the slim fish of memory
that slides in and out of my brain.


Day 19:
I must always forget who one words is able to pick
out another, to manner another, until I have got
something I might have said…


Day 20:
the grass as bristly and stout as chives,
and me wondering when the ground would break,
and me wondering how anything fragile survives;


Day 21:
To love another is something
like prayer and can't be planned, you just fall



Day 22:
Now you grab me by the ankles.
Now you work your way up the legs
and come to pierce me at my hunger mark


Day 23:
From within the satin
And the suede of this inhuman bed,
Something cried, let me go let me go.


Day 24:
then they leave home on horseback
but God returns them on foot.
pf_mod: modern pseudo-cubist painting of a red headed woman holding a book with a red cover (Default)
[personal profile] pf_mod
from The Fury of Abandonment

Out of the mournful sweetness of touching
comes love
like breakfast.
pf_mod: modern pseudo-cubist painting of a red headed woman holding a book with a red cover (Default)
[personal profile] pf_mod
from Doctors

then they leave home on horseback
but God returns them on foot.
pf_mod: modern pseudo-cubist painting of a red headed woman holding a book with a red cover (Default)
[personal profile] pf_mod
from Elizabeth Gone

From within the satin
And the suede of this inhuman bed,
Something cried, let me go let me go.
pf_mod: modern pseudo-cubist painting of a red headed woman holding a book with a red cover (Default)
[personal profile] pf_mod
from Barefoot

Now you grab me by the ankles.
Now you work your way up the legs
and come to pierce me at my hunger mark
pf_mod: modern pseudo-cubist painting of a red headed woman holding a book with a red cover (Default)
[personal profile] pf_mod
Sorry this is late, everyone!

from Admonitions to a Special Person

To love another is something
like prayer and can't be planned, you just fall
pf_mod: modern pseudo-cubist painting of a red headed woman holding a book with a red cover (Default)
[personal profile] pf_mod
from The Abortion

the grass as bristly and stout as chives,
and me wondering when the ground would break,
and me wondering how anything fragile survives;
pf_mod: modern pseudo-cubist painting of a red headed woman holding a book with a red cover (Default)
[personal profile] pf_mod
Day 9:
And we both wrote poems we couldn't write
and cried together the whole long night
and fell in love with a delicate breath



Day 10:
Even so, I must admire your skill.
You are so gracefully insane.


Day 11:
I walk. I walk.
I hold matches at street signs
for it is dark,



Day 12:
However, nothing is just what it seems to be.
My objects dream and wear new costumes,
compelled to, it seems, by all the words in my hands



Day 13:
A penny for your thoughts, Princess.
I will hunt them like an emerald.



Day 14:
I am torn in two
but I will conquer myself.




Day 15:
and this is no dream
just my oily life
where the people are alibis


Day 16:
and there was a small rain
and she lifted her face to it
and thought it part of the river.
pf_mod: modern pseudo-cubist painting of a red headed woman holding a book with a red cover (Default)
[personal profile] pf_mod
from Said the Poet to the Analyst

I must always forget who one words is able to pick
out another, to manner another, until I have got
somethhing I might have said…
pf_mod: modern pseudo-cubist painting of a red headed woman holding a book with a red cover (Default)
[personal profile] pf_mod
from The Inventory of Goodbye

I sit here on the spike of truth.
No one to hate except the slim fish of memory
that slides in and out of my brain.

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