Feb. 28th, 2016

Fandom 8

Feb. 28th, 2016 11:45 am
thesoulofchaos: (Default)
Originally posted by [livejournal.com profile] thesoulofchaos at Fandom 8
Fandom: Merlin/Harry Potter
Rating: PG
Word Count: 426

Merlin didn’t drink - which was probably for the best because if he was witnessing this drunk then he might be more confused than he already was.

Alright, now he looked at him again, the boy didn’t look as much like he used to as he thought. This kid had a scar and glasses…actually that was mostly where the differences ended. Or maybe there were more… Merlin didn’t think he could be blamed for forgetting how he used to look when he was younger - that had been centuries ago and he certainly didn’t look like a young man anymore. He probably could if he tried, but he had grown quite attached to the beard over the decades.

Still - there were definitely similarities in the scruffy, black hair and the skinny frame, not to mention the sarcasm and the sense of humour. Merlin could certainly see bits of himself in this boy. Which is how he justified following him to this magic school that he was off to. Hiding in places up and down the train with a cloaking spell that he had learned to maintain for extended periods cast over him, Merlin was shocked at how laid back some of these children were about going to wizarding school. He would have done anything to go and learn how to do magic properly - well anything was perhaps a step too far but he felt the point was better-made with the hyperbole.

Following the boy, Harry, into the school was a bit trickier because even if people couldn’t see him they could certainly still bump into him, and Merlin had no idea what sort of powers the teachers at this school had. What if they detected him? An old man using a cloaking spell to follow a young boy into a school was probably not the best way to introduce himself - even if he managed to convince anyone he was the real Merlin.

That was when he was convinced that this was some bizarre sign from the universe - that he was reincarnate without being dead, or that this boy was meant to be his prodigy, or something else that he couldn’t think of. On the stairs up to the school they met him, or rather Harry met him and Merlin spied on Harry meeting him. Blonde and arrogant with a sharp tongue and a taste for putting down his fellow man, he even had a powerful father.

Though Merlin had to admit, he would have thought the once-and-future king would have returned a little less weedy.
thesoulofchaos: (Default)
Originally posted by [livejournal.com profile] thesoulofchaos at Fandoms 9 and 10
Fandom: Elementary
Rating: 12
Word Count: 234
NB: Spoilers for Season 3 finale.

Even though she told herself that this might happen, she found she couldn’t breathe. She had been a sober companion before she had met Sherlock - she knew the relapse rates. She had never allowed herself to think that heroin was off the table for good, because forever was a long time to go without a vice so strong.

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, like a sucker punch to the gut, to see him like this. Sherlock had said that she had never met that side of him, the addict Sherlock. He had been right.

She had met him now.

Captain Gregson put his hand on her shoulder, tried to guide her out of the tunnel, but she shrugged him off and stepped forward. Sherlock didn’t seem to realise she was there. She didn’t think he knew any of them were there.

She blamed herself. She knew the toll Alfredo’s kidnapping had taken on Sherlock. She should never have let him go with Oscar on his own - not matter how much he had insisted. She had failed him. She had failed her friend.

She wanted to slap herself. Now was not the time for this.

Watson knelt down in front of Sherlock and lay one hand on his arm. He looked up at her, though she had no idea if he was really seeing her or not.

“I’m here to take you home Sherlock”



Fandom: Teen Wolf
Rating: PG
Word Count: 192


Stiles couldn’t sleep.

It was a pretty common thing really, at least two or three nights a week. Just usually it was because he had gotten the dosage wrong on his Adderall or taken it at the wrong time, or he’d had too much caffeine. Tonight it was his thoughts that kept him awake.

He’d never really thought about what it meant to be human before. Not until he was surrounded by those who weren’t.

After Scott had been bitten it was like everything supernatural that he never knew existed suddenly came bursting out of the closet. Now he was surrounded by werewolves and other creatures he didn’t know were real, except they were wearing the faces of his friends.

Others had offered to turn him - make him a werewolf. He’d be a liar if he said he wasn’t tempted, at least the first time. After that it got easier to shrug off their offers and smile and say thanks but no thanks. They always seemed so disappointed in him when he did turn them down, like choosing to remain human was so unthinkable.

Like they didn’t used to be human once.

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