RussianWitch
Fandoms
Recent works
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Summary
I suppose what the tags say.
Basic smut, with handcuffs. -
Tags
Summary
What is says on the tin. John gets to meet the League.
Series
- Part 7 of We are not in Stockholm yet
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Summary
Nightmares, blowing off steam, the past doesn't let them rest easy.
- Words:
- 1,740
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Kudos:
- 2
- Hits:
- 24
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Summary
From Gotham to the League's home is a long way to go. By the end of it John is pretty much exhausted but still has a lot of surprises to deal with.
Series
- Part 6 of We are not in Stockholm yet
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Summary
Q isn't supposed to keep pets, even if strays wander in an empty his fridge in the middle of the night. Now beta'd.
Recent series
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Summary
Being a hostage is tricky. Spending so much time with your captors almost makes them human.
- Words:
- 19,174
- Works:
- 7
- Bookmarks:
- 12
Recent bookmarks
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Summary
The world's changed. When everything you loved is gone, what's left? Duty, honour, dreams, dust . . .
Bookmarked by RussianWitch
4 Apr 2013
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Summary
When Simon is separated from the rest of the crew during a Reaver attack, the last person he expects to be rescued by is Jayne Cobb. How will the two men survive being abandoned together on a desolate rock?
Use mouseover for translation.
Bookmarked by RussianWitch
4 Apr 2013
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Summary
A Sansa and Sandor epilogue to the end of the series A Song of Ice and Fire. Their future lives lay before them but will Sansa and Sandor accept their fate?
Bookmarked by RussianWitch
20 Mar 2013
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Summary
That's the thing about Hollywood--everyone has a Hollywood story.
Bookmarked by RussianWitch
2 Mar 2013
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Summary
A boy is throwing stones into the swamp. Some of them skip, most of them sink. He doesn’t seem to care either way. An alligator peeks at him from beneath the muck. The boy chucks a stone at it but the gator sinks below the murky water before the rock even reaches the peak of its arc. It hits a swath of Spanish moss clinging like cobwebs to the trees and lands in the swamp with a graceless plop.
“Your house is haunted,” the boy says without looking, focusing on his stones. He’s older, maybe fourteen, sullen with a mop of blonde hair hanging into his eyes. They’re blue, blue like the ocean back in California. All of the water in Louisiana is green.
“You’re not gonna stay there long,” says the boy. “No one ever does. The ghosts drive them out.”
He turns and his blue eyes flash. His fingers fall open and the stones fall to the mushy earth beneath their feet.
“Don’t look in the mirrors,” he warns; then he walks away.
Bookmarked by RussianWitch
1 Mar 2013