Categories > TV > Firefly
Retrograde
0 reviews"We are starting at the end and skipping, incoherently staggering. Broken." Strange mix of third person and River's POV. Warnings: Implied incest.
1Insightful
Warnings: None besides heavily implied crazy space incest.
POV: The reason why I put a POV category up was because this has to be the strangest mix of first person/third person omniscient I've ever written. Mostly, it's coming from River. The portion in italics is most likely from Simon's POV.
Comments: This is the byproduct of that burst of inspiration that came from watching 's videos "Cure My Tragedy" and "Fade Out" -only since "Fade Out" plays on Quicktime on my computer I have the ability to play it backward. And it got me thinking about rewinding time... back to childhood... I bet you can guess which direction this is going in. -Finally, the part in italics is from Francesa Lia Block's Wasteland (which is about a heartbreaking brother and sister romance). And to : If the fic sucks, I deeply apologize for writing this after watching your vids.
Firefly belongs to Joss Whedon and Wasteland was written by Francesa Lia Block. Not me. So there. And... it's supposed to be confusing. I think.
Retrograde.
Don't want to d-
Submersion. He had plunged headlong into black. Black and white, a torrent of movement and running. Hiding, screaming, and crying, pain. -Before- Laughter and dancing. It had broken something inside of him that might have been broken long before. But it did not stop it kept rushing around him, consuming him whole. -Would not end- Retreat. -Unable- We are starting at the end and skipping, incoherently staggering. Broken.
There had been hope, there was always hope. Although it was sickly, it never died. We nearly died. Fire. What was the hope for? A return? A cure? No, something even simpler. - Existence with completion that nothing other than one person in the 'verse could give him. Completion. -Taking a hand back-
Before cure, before hope. The screaming would not end it made ears and hearts bleed. Black was rain dropping and staining, eventually soaking and would later and earlier consume. Tearing apart, things are getting dark and alone. Hide and seek.
God it was agony. Nothingness, a screaming blank. Failure -it died. Convulsions and dry heaving. Unable to see -see anything -see anyone- She was too deep too silent for him to find, although he eventually would.
He was taking a hand back, returning- or at least trying to. It's too early to mention but
From birth, there was attachment. You-
When you were a baby I sat very still to hold you. I could see the veins through your skin like a map inside of you. How could skin be that thin? I was so afraid you might drop and break. I stopped breathing so you wouldn't.
Nevermind, too early. Backward steps, retracted tears - continue and regression. Rewinding... We're going back first.
There was love, and I loved you and you cared and returned it. She did; she loved.
... Something's lifted.
Before separation-
She would dance, while he would study. She would giggle, and he would smirk. Brat, he called her. Something among the lines of "egghead" in Mandarin would be spoken in return.
This is getting too hard-
- couldn't we please stop? I'm confused, it's too confusing... I just want to st-
She would taunt him until he stood, blushing. Playful, she would continue until he was prompted to do something. What it had been had left her breathless and smiling. His admiration for her was too strong to resist, although it was otherwise unspoken. As was for her as well.
Even before that... was affection.
Outside, where River loved it best, she would dance and sometimes lounge. Simon would follow, under the pretense that the sunlight was better for reading. Once fatigued enough, she'd pretend to faint on his lap. Feigning irritation, he would cross his arms and make a smart remark. Claiming cerebral death, she'd ignore him.
Some time would pass, until his thoughts wandered into the dark enclave of his mind where thoughts of death and misfortune dwelled. He could imagine his sister laying there in his lap, never to open her eyes and gaze upon him again. To his dismay it struck a cord within him, every time. Fingertips would brush over her cheeks gently, caressing them. Then, to his relief, she'd smile and her beautiful warm brown eyes would open. She'd shift until she rested more comfortably against him with her head on his chest, and he would hold her and run a hand through her hair.
Coming full circle, they had found serenity together. ... Didn't we?
POV: The reason why I put a POV category up was because this has to be the strangest mix of first person/third person omniscient I've ever written. Mostly, it's coming from River. The portion in italics is most likely from Simon's POV.
Comments: This is the byproduct of that burst of inspiration that came from watching 's videos "Cure My Tragedy" and "Fade Out" -only since "Fade Out" plays on Quicktime on my computer I have the ability to play it backward. And it got me thinking about rewinding time... back to childhood... I bet you can guess which direction this is going in. -Finally, the part in italics is from Francesa Lia Block's Wasteland (which is about a heartbreaking brother and sister romance). And to : If the fic sucks, I deeply apologize for writing this after watching your vids.
Firefly belongs to Joss Whedon and Wasteland was written by Francesa Lia Block. Not me. So there. And... it's supposed to be confusing. I think.
Retrograde.
Don't want to d-
Submersion. He had plunged headlong into black. Black and white, a torrent of movement and running. Hiding, screaming, and crying, pain. -Before- Laughter and dancing. It had broken something inside of him that might have been broken long before. But it did not stop it kept rushing around him, consuming him whole. -Would not end- Retreat. -Unable- We are starting at the end and skipping, incoherently staggering. Broken.
There had been hope, there was always hope. Although it was sickly, it never died. We nearly died. Fire. What was the hope for? A return? A cure? No, something even simpler. - Existence with completion that nothing other than one person in the 'verse could give him. Completion. -Taking a hand back-
Before cure, before hope. The screaming would not end it made ears and hearts bleed. Black was rain dropping and staining, eventually soaking and would later and earlier consume. Tearing apart, things are getting dark and alone. Hide and seek.
God it was agony. Nothingness, a screaming blank. Failure -it died. Convulsions and dry heaving. Unable to see -see anything -see anyone- She was too deep too silent for him to find, although he eventually would.
He was taking a hand back, returning- or at least trying to. It's too early to mention but
From birth, there was attachment. You-
When you were a baby I sat very still to hold you. I could see the veins through your skin like a map inside of you. How could skin be that thin? I was so afraid you might drop and break. I stopped breathing so you wouldn't.
Nevermind, too early. Backward steps, retracted tears - continue and regression. Rewinding... We're going back first.
There was love, and I loved you and you cared and returned it. She did; she loved.
... Something's lifted.
Before separation-
She would dance, while he would study. She would giggle, and he would smirk. Brat, he called her. Something among the lines of "egghead" in Mandarin would be spoken in return.
This is getting too hard-
- couldn't we please stop? I'm confused, it's too confusing... I just want to st-
She would taunt him until he stood, blushing. Playful, she would continue until he was prompted to do something. What it had been had left her breathless and smiling. His admiration for her was too strong to resist, although it was otherwise unspoken. As was for her as well.
Even before that... was affection.
Outside, where River loved it best, she would dance and sometimes lounge. Simon would follow, under the pretense that the sunlight was better for reading. Once fatigued enough, she'd pretend to faint on his lap. Feigning irritation, he would cross his arms and make a smart remark. Claiming cerebral death, she'd ignore him.
Some time would pass, until his thoughts wandered into the dark enclave of his mind where thoughts of death and misfortune dwelled. He could imagine his sister laying there in his lap, never to open her eyes and gaze upon him again. To his dismay it struck a cord within him, every time. Fingertips would brush over her cheeks gently, caressing them. Then, to his relief, she'd smile and her beautiful warm brown eyes would open. She'd shift until she rested more comfortably against him with her head on his chest, and he would hold her and run a hand through her hair.
Coming full circle, they had found serenity together. ... Didn't we?
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