thesoulofchaos: (Default)
Originally posted by [livejournal.com profile] thesoulofchaos at Fandoms 1 - 4
Fandom: Cold Case
Rating: PG
Word Count: 214

Kat jumped and knocked the files off her desk as Lilly Rush sat down heavily in the seat beside her desk. The other detective had raised a single eyebrow at her in query when Kat finally finished collecting the files from the floor.

“What?”

“Do you want to know what I was thinking about this morning, when I was supposed to be looking over the crime scene?”, and normally Kat would have come back with a decidedly un-PG rated response to that but Lilly didn’t look like she was in that sort of mood.

“I have no idea Rush, why don’t you enlighten me”

“That song, Miller, that damn song”, and Kat couldn’t help but crack up laughing at the frustration in Lilly’s voice, “I can’t get it out of my head - and I’m meant to be looking at the photos from ninety one and comparing them to what’s there but no, all I can think about is squashing up baby bumble bees”, and Lilly finished her rant by pointing sharply at Kat.

“You owe me, big time”, and Lilly got up and returned to her own desk. Kat just carried on laughing, Veronica would get a kick out of hearing of how big an impact her school performance had on Detective Rush.


Fandom: Malory Towers/Harry Potter
Rating: PG
Word Count: 386

Sally had to be in control, she just had to be. Ever since that letter arrived and her parents told her about her grandfather and what he could do, told her about what she was, she had maintained complete control. They weren’t happy when she refused to go to that school - Hogwarts - and she suspected that her subsequent withdrawal from her old school and relocation to Malory Towers was, in some ways, their way of showing their displeasure.

It was ridiculous, the whole business. Or at least it would be if Sally could find some other explanation for the things that she could do, both with and without meaning to. Even now, when she tried so hard to keep everything hidden away, things would sneak out when she wasn’t paying attention. A floating book here, a pen that inconceivably disappeared from right in front of someone, the legs of a chair momentarily changing to actual legs…

Sally was convinced it was her own mind, punishing her either for having these…these abilities in the first place, or for not following her abilities to this school of magic. Either way she saw no solution other than to close herself off even more and hope that eventually her willpower would overpower whatever it was that brought about these abilities inside her.

Which would have been fine if it wasn’t for Darrell Rivers. Darrell who had noticed that Sally was angry and tense and withdrawn all the time and instead of doing what everyone else in the form had done and deciding that Sally wasn’t worth the effort, had made these awkward and tentative efforts to include her and attempt to befriend her.

Sally couldn’t yet bear to be outright cruel to the other girl, not yet. Darrell didn’t know what Sally was like after all, didn’t know what was wrong with her. Yet as each day passed and to her own dismay, Sally found herself being drawn to the idea of having a friend to go around with. Except friendships meant sharing and honesty and other good things, and not worrying that you might blow up your friend’s maths book or make her bed vanish whilst she was sleeping in it.

Sally had started to wonder whether going to Hogwarts might have been the better option after all.



Fandom: Binding of Isaac
Rating: 15
Word Count: 183
NB: References to infanticide.

Isaac had screamed the first time he found them. After all, who wouldn’t? He was lucky Mother wasn’t home or perhaps he would have joined them, hidden beneath the floor boards.

He wondered if the voices he heard had belonged to his brothers and sisters before him or perhaps the doctor was right, and there was something wrong with him. He had returned the floor boards to how they were before and been grateful that his Mother had not noticed they had been moved.

He shivered at night, thinking of the bones and mummified remains that lay mere metres away; he cried as he thought of how they must have ended up there. He wondered if it hurt, wondered if they had suffered. He spent weeks trying to be a good boy, hoping that if he could prove to Mother that he was good and pure and obedient then he wouldn’t have to join his siblings under the floor.

When she started to hear the voice of God telling her that her son was corrupt, Isaac knew that it didn’t matter what he did - the same fate would befall him.



Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: 15
Word Count: 1,106
NB: Suggestive scenes, nudity, and fifteen year old characters.
NB2: Those on 12daysofchristmas will already know my lack of Harry Potter canon knowledge, this was written just to see if I could.

Albus Potter shivered against the sudden gust of wind that whipped through the stadium, and wished that he could conjure the willpower to just get up and go inside and forget all about this stupid sport.

Even thinking that amounted to sacrilege in the eyes of his family.

Albus pulled his cloak tighter around himself and rocked in his chair, hoping it would generate some warmth. He was almost inclined to cast Incendio on the small collection of rubbish that had collected at his feet and huddled up to a makeshift fire - but knowing his luck he’d burn down the whole stands. That would make him popular…

Who in their right mind would want to be out here flying around in this weather throwing a magical ball around. Then again, what sort of idiot would sit in the cold and watch the damn thing when they didn’t even like it.

They were all landing now, and he could see James jumping off his broom and striding towards him so he prepared himself for the conversation that was to follow.

“Good practice yeah?”, James grinned, his face smeared with dirt and rain and his hair windswept, “You see the turn I made when Malfoy was right up my arse?”, Albus tried not to react to the imagery of that and instead just nodded his head.

“Give you a bit of extra practice over summer and I reckon you’d been good for the team next year”, James offered and Albus managed to smile and nod and tell James that he’d like that before the other players descended upon them and his brother took off towards the changing room with them. Albus waited for a few minutes then got up and followed them. The changing room was quiet when he entered, most of the players had rushed through a shower and getting dressed to race off for supper which apparently always tasted better after Quidditch practice, but Albus knew there would be one player who took his time getting changed. Albus had worked out his changing routine, and at the same time after each practice he could sneak down and…

“Potter”, Albus jumped when Scorpius greeted him.

“Malfoy”, Albus replied after a beat and then frowned when he realised that Scorpius hadn’t even changed out of his Quidditch robes. His mind raced with fears that Scorpius had caught him spying on him - which was a generous term considering exactly what Albus was doing - the last time they’d had practice, “Uh…good practice, you flew well”. Was that even something you were meant to say to someone after practice? Or ever?

Scorpius just smirked and nodded his head in an acceptance of Albus’s words, then changed the subject, “You look like you’ve gotten cold sitting out there - why don’t you jump in the shower as well. There’s dry robes you can borrow”. Albus glanced over his shoulder where there were indeed robes hanging conveniently from one of the open lockers, and all of this being a coincidence seemed less and less likely.

But Scorpius was already stripping as he walked towards the shower and Albus was pretty damn certain that the other teenager didn’t always move his arse like that when he walked, so Albus followed him. Unlike Scorpius’s trail of discarded clothes, Albus dropped all of his into a single, convenient pile and then stepped into the showers. He could insist on going into one of the cubicles, but the part of his brain that had gotten him into this bloody mess was telling him to stay in here with the very naked Scorpius Malfoy.

He took one of the showers a few down from Scorpius and turned it on, shuddered at the first blast of water before he groaned, quite involuntarily, at the hot water. He felt Scorpius’s eyes on him the moment he uttered that groan, and he dared not look at the other. So he focused on the wall in front of him, repeated the mantra to not look over and over, until suddenly Scorpius was in the next shower over from him. Albus’s head whipped around and he couldn’t help but stare.

“Other showers were running cold water”, Scorpius said, and Albus knew that was a load of bollocks but he didn’t care. He tried to just look at Scorpius’s face, but that lasted all of about ten seconds, before his eyes drifted down over pecs and abs that he had only ever glimpsed from afar. Scorpius was pretty solid for a fifteen year old. Albus suspected it had something to do with the reputation his father had had of being something of a scrawny wimp, but whatever the reasons the results made for more than pleasant viewing.

“You spent more time working out and less time perving then you’d have some of your own to look at”, Scorpius commented and Albus went bright red. Well that answered the matter of whether Scorpius had caught him.

“I..uh…”, and he wasn’t the most articulate of people at the best of times, but Albus just couldn’t get his mouth to work when all his attention was focused on not looking any lower than Scorpius’s stomach.

“It’s quite a compliment really”, Scorpius said, as he stretched his arms above his head and accentuated his muscles as he did, “What would you do for me if I let you touch them?”

Albus lost his nerve and scurried out of the shower before Scorpius had the chance to get a good look at just how appreciative of Scorpius’s body Albus was. He toweled himself dry roughly and threw on the robes with trembling hands, by which time Scorpius strolled out of the showers with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“You’re so tense Albus, it’s not good for your health”, Scorpius said. Albus couldn’t even begin to think of how to respond to that so he just gathered up his dirty robes and went to stalk past Scorpius. The blond grabbed him by the upper arm and stopped him in his tracks,

“Since you lost your nerve this time, I’ll give you another chance. Next practice I’ll wait until all the others are gone before I have my shower. Seems only sporting since I caught you off guard this time.”, and then he let Albus go. Albus practically ran the whole distance back up to the Gryffindor common room, his mind a flurry of thoughts and half-made decisions.

If disliking Quidditch was enough to lead to raised eyebrows and concerned voices around the Potter dinner table, he dreaded to think what fancying Scorpius bloody Malfoy would get him.
thesoulofchaos: (Default)
Originally posted by [livejournal.com profile] thesoulofchaos at On the (late) seventh day of Christmas...
...my true love gave to me, a rapidly approaching essay deadline...so my postings will have to remain one day behind.

Also...seven Cupid's arrows, six open books, five punishments, four floods of tears, three portents of doom, two buried secrets and one outstretch hand.

Title: The Thief and the Shopkeeper
Fandom: Recettear
Rating: PG
Word Count: 484

If she wasn’t careful Tear would hear them. The fairy had ridiculously good hearing, and Recette could only imagine the way her business partner would react if she were to walk in on her now.

But her thoughts were disturbed as Charme’s lips found a sensitive part on her neck again and she could barely stifle the gasp that threatened to escape her. Warm breath enveloped her neck, with soft kisses peppered in between; and when Charme’s mouth returned to her own, Recette could taste the alcohol on the other woman’s tongue.

When they broke apart to catch their breath, the thief took the opportunity to back Recette into the counter and press her own body against her. Recette took a few deep breathes to settle her racing heart before Charme kissed her again, and this time her hands dropped to Recette’s waist and pulled her in close by the hips. Recette whimpered at the feeling, desperate to take Charme’s hands and guide them to exactly where she wanted them to be.

The sound of something hitting the floor of the room above them brought them to an abrupt stop, and they stood deathly still, listening for any further movement. As Charme’s breath tickled Recette’s ear, Recette struggled to avoiding shuddering beneath the other woman.

“Should prolly be going”, Charme whispered, the edges of her voice softened by alcohol, “Ain’t in the mood to be dealing with your fairy”. Recette wanted to protest, and she toyed momentarily with the idea of suggesting she accompany Charme to her house, but Tear always woke up before she did and having to explain where she had been…

“There’s always tomorrow”, Charme grinned and kissed Recette one final time before she disappeared out of the shop window and into the night.

Recette closed the shop window with a sigh and set the lock. She heard the flutter of wings before she had a chance to move and instead tried to settle her expression, hoping that her nightclothes weren’t too disheveled.

“Something happened?”, Tear bobbed into the room, expression all business as usual and Recette faked a yawn and rubbing her eyes.

“I thought I heard something, and there was a draft”, she slunk a little closer to the fairy, “Came down to check the windows”. Tear did a quick flit around the room and then stopped in front of Recette. Recette blushed as the fairy seemed to inspect her, and she stood under the scrutiny for a few seconds, trying not to squirm.

“Better get back to bed, busy day tomorrow”, and then Tear disappeared back up the stairs.

Recette let out a sigh of relief and followed her friend up the stairs. Tear had been complaining recently that she hadn’t seen any other fairies for a while - perhaps now was a good time to convince her that a vacation from the store would be a good idea.



Title: Diversion
Fandom: Watch Dogs
Rating: 12/15 for impliedness and language
Word Count: 436

There were some people on the planet who were truly vile. Aiden couldn’t keep the disgusted scowl from his face as he read the text that the man he was following had sent to one of his friends. The text that followed a few seconds later, this one to the young woman that this scum-bag was about to go and meet was enough to turn Aiden’s stomach with the dichotomy of their supposed intentions.

In most cases Aiden would let the people he was surveying meet before he decided whether to intervene, but he couldn’t allow himself that luxury this time. Joanne was expecting to get together and enjoy an evening of dinner and conversation with her boyfriend of just shy of a month. Richard had very different ideas for where the evening was headed.

Aiden took a sharp turn into a newspaper stand as Richard stopped abruptly and glanced over his shoulders. Aiden couldn’t work out whether he was just the paranoid type or whether Aiden’s own rage was making him careless. He bought a stick of gum from stand-owner and popped a piece in his mouth, chewing slowly and deliberately to calm himself as he continued his pursuit.

Aiden wondered for a moment if Richard was the same person the police were looking for in connection to attacks earlier in the year, four women had been assaulted so far and it was only luck of coincidence that had meant all four attacks had been disturbed.

‘That would certainly explain the paranoia’, Aiden mused, sliding between people in the crowd and keeping his attention on Richard. They had just over a block to go and then it would be too late to prevent the meeting. Of course he wasn’t about to let this animal go just because he actually made it to his meeting with Joanne - Richard might be terrible at what he did now, but too many opportunities and he would get better. Then someone would have to pay the consequences.
Richard seemed to hesitate at an alleyway and then change directions, and Aiden smiled to himself. Desperation and paranoia had made him take a shortcut.

Aiden glanced around one last time before he followed Richard into the alleyway. He closed in on foot before kicking out the back of Richard’s left knee - sending him tumbling into the rubbish-strewn concrete.

“What the fuck?”, Richard rolled over, face bursting with rage and Aiden grinned to himself, face concealed beneath his cap and the bandana across his mouth.

“Sorry Richard, but you’re gonna miss your date”, Aiden spat before he kicked him again.




Title: Self-worth
Fandom: Malory Towers
Rating: PG
Word Count: 331

Sally was quite certain that she was undeserving of love. Love was for those who were good and decent, and Sally knew deep down that she was neither of those things. Oh sure she put on a mask, a rather convincing one at that, and the others believed that she was just steady and sensible and rather dull, but she knew who she was at heart.

“Everyone deserves love Sal”, Darrell said in response to Sally’s, rather sulky, statement that perhaps some people were just destined to be alone. Sally couldn’t even remember how they had gotten onto the topic; it had started out so light hearted, their chat beneath the willow tree.

And Sally shook her head, keeping her head down as she toyed with the end of Darrell’s lace, her friend sat right beside her in the cool autumn air.

“Even the worst people in the world had someone who loved them once”, and Sally wasn’t sure if Darrell was right but she didn’t get a chance to protest because Darrell continued, “and you are far from the worst of people.”

Sally blushed at her transparency, “I wasn’t talking about me”, she muttered. But she knew Darrell didn’t believe her, and of course Darrell would think she was worthy. This was the girl who saw good in Alicia Johns of all people. It didn’t make her right though; even Sally’s parents, who were meant to love her unconditionally had sent her away when they’d seen that she was no good.

“Of course you weren’t”, Darrell replied, and Sally startled when a kiss was placed on her cheek.

“What was that for?”, Sally asked, glancing around for anyone who might have seen them.

Darrell just grinned and jumped to her feet as the bell for third session rung. Sally touched her cheek and shook her head with a smile before following her friend.

She still wasn’t convinced she deserved Darrell’s love, but she it seemed she had it all the same.




Title: Love Notes
Fandom: Left 4 Dead
Rating: 12 (15? I don't know how these ratings work if you hadn't guess, I just randomly input numbers)
Word Count: 779

“You find it hard to read stuff like this?”, Ellis asked and Rochelle lifted her head from where she lay on the table. It wasn’t comfortable and Nick had already informed her that she looked an awful lot like a corpse awaiting autopsy, but she’d been damned if she was lying on the floor.

“What’s that?”, and Ellis’s only response was to point at the words written on the wall in front of him. Rochelle sighed, overly dramatically if she were honest with herself, and swung herself around to get off the table. She glanced around the safe house, wondering where Coach and Nick had gotten to.

“They’s upstairs rootin’ through the bedrooms - just in case”, Ellis was facing her when she turned around and she couldn’t mistake the sheen across his eyes. Sometimes she forgot…no…they all forgot, just how young Ellis was. He should have been out trying to woo some young lady or young man - she’d never asked his preference - and not here with a shotgun slung around his shoulders, a face that had aged ten years over night and boots stained with blood and dirt. Of course, they should all be doing that, but Ellis just seemed too young to be here.

“What you reading that’s got you so pensive?”, Rochelle strode up alongside him, movement at the window causing her to tense for a moment before she reminded herself that they’d chosen this as a safe-house for more than one reason, the least of which was the solid bars that had been installed by the previous owner on damn near all the windows.

That was probably when the infection first broke out.

“Look here”, Ellis pointed again, and Rochelle followed his finger to the scrawls on the wall.

‘Georgia, I’ve gone on to the mall in the centre of town - they say we’ll be rescued. Meet me there, I’ll wait for you. David’ and then to the scribble below, ‘If you end up back here David, I’m moving onto the mall - they’re still choppering people out, I’ll find you’. There were a few jack-ass comments around them but Rochelle ignored those and shrugged her shoulders.

“Maybe they got out - seems like this was when the military were still rescuing people”

“I s’pose, it’s just sad that they…I hope you’re right”, Ellis sighed. Rochelle wanted to press him a little harder, find out what had prompted this melancholy, but Coach’s voice boomed from upstairs telling them to gear up. So instead she gave him a quick squeeze on the shoulder and turned around to collect up her gear.

She hadn’t thought about the exchange for days. It was hard to think of anything but survival when your life had become a slog from safe house to safe house, swinging weapons until your arms burned just to keep the undead at arm’s length. They had made it to the mall, but that hadn’t brought any respite. They had nearly lost coach when two spitters and a hunter had pinned them down on the escalators. Only Ellis’s quick reaction had saved the older man from having his throat torn out.

The security room inside the mall seemed about the only safe place to hold up in. So there they were. Exhausted, soaked in sweat and god knows what, and far beyond ready for this nightmare to end. Rochelle found herself left with Ellis once again, thankful for the silence, as Coach and Nick rounded up supplies from the storage room.

“Hey, would ya look at that”, Ellis commented as he pointed at the wall, and Rochelle opened her eyes to see what he was talking about. It was one of those stupid pieces of graffiti that love-sick teenagers drew on everything, where someone hearts someone else, this one was drawn for David and Georgia with the words “Reunited at last” written underneath.

“Yeah and?”, she groaned, closing her eyes again.

“They made it out didn’t they, look at the date”, Ellis nudged her again and she opened her eyes once more, “See, 12th October, they were still choppering people out of here then. She caught up with him here”. And Rochelle was about to open her mouth and remind him that they still had to get from here to the evacuation point, and even if they did get there no-one had any idea what the military were doing with these people they were claiming to be saving. But she looked across at him and saw the lines had lifted from his face, he looked twenty three again and like the whole damned world hadn’t gone to shit around him.

“You know what sweetie, I think you might be right”




Title: Myths and Legends
Fandom: Tomb Raider
Rating: G
Word Count: 279


If Lara had learnt anything over the years it was that no legendary artifact, weapon or tool should ever be dismissed as fable or myth. Rather more often than not, they tended to be real.

With all that said, she was reluctant to take up the bow and arrows that lay before, beautifully ornate and untouched by time. It was quite one thing to carry around a dagger that could transform you into a dragon, or an ancient Egyptian amulet that granted incredible strength.

It was quite another to carry around something that the legends said could change someone’s free will.

Lara wondered how many had used it - and for their own desires or for the sake of others? She couldn’t imagine what it must be like to lose control of your own most intimate thoughts, the things that should be untouched by anyone else. She ran her finger tips over the flats of the arrow heads. Just as legend told, there were gold tipped and silver tipped. She wondered if the silver ones had been used to break up marriages and that seemed just as awful. To turn around and despise the person you had loved most in all the world before someone had intervened.

Still, to leave it here would be to risk letting it fall into the hands of someone with less moral guidance than she. So Lara lay the leather canvas down on top of the weapon and carefully wrapped it up, making certain to securely pad out the arrow heads.

After all, the last thing she needed on the way to the extraction point was to fall in love with an undead Greek soldier.





Title: The Stuff of Legends
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: G
Word Count: 536
Note: A second attempt at the Harry Potter fandom for [livejournal.com profile] sabethea, if anyone is out of character at all it’s because Lego characters don’t talk and they are my reference point.

“I’m pretty sure that’s real mate”, Ron didn’t even look up from his game of chess so there was no way he could have seen the way his comment had stopped Hermione and Harry’s conversation in it’s tracks. Nor could he have seen the shared look between the two, the excitement that one of the stories from their world might turn out to be true.

“Cupid’s real?”, Harry scooted his chair closer to Ron. The red-head didn’t answer for a while, seemingly fixated on where he was going to make his next move. Then all of a sudden he moved his knight forward and his attention was back on them.

“Dunno about him, probably not, but that bow you’re talking about is real”

“There is honestly a bow and arrow that has the power to create or destroy love?”, Hermione had moved along the sofa to sit right next to Ron, “I haven’t read about it”.

“Oh right, so it must not exist then”, Ron shot back and Harry hid the smirk that pulled at his lips by pretending to cover up a cough. He was pretty sure, from the glare that Hermione shot him, that he had done a poor job of it.

“You want to hear about this bow or what?”, Ron asked.

“Are we going to finish playing?”, Dean complained, “You always moan that I won’t play chess with you and the first time I do…”

“Rain check mate, I’d have beaten you in four moves anyway”, and Harry couldn’t look at Dean’s bewildered, and slightly offended, expression for more than a few seconds for fear he might laugh. Dean muttered something under his breath and moved across the common room to sit with Seamus.

“Anyway, my dad’s seen it. The reason you haven’t read much about it is because it’s locked away in the Ministry of Magic. Only about three people have even seen it in the last century”, Ron started to pack away the chess pieces, “They’re proper strict about the security on it”.

“Over a love potion on a stick?”, Harry scrunched his face up in disbelief but noticed that Hermione was nodding her agreement, as if she approved of the Ministry’s decision. To be fair she probably did.

“Well it makes sense - I mean if we assume that it’s as powerful as the stories that we heard as children”, Hermione said, “It would be like using the Imperius curse, except once the arrow had hit you wouldn’t need to maintain it.”

“Yeah, say you wanted to sneak someone into the Ministry of Magic - you’d just get the head of security to fall in love with them and the magic’s so strong they’ll do whatever you ask them to”, Ron had finished tidying away and rejoined the conversation, “There’s no limit, the first person you see after being hit with the arrow is the person you will be madly in love with forever. Don’t think they ever found a cure for it, s’why it’s locked up”.

The silence that fell after that was awkward and Harry eventually had to say something,

“So Ron…you know if anyone’s ever come across a box that no-one’s ever meant to open?”




Title: Meant to be unspoken
Fandom: Bully
Rating: PG
Word Count: 237

Jimmy had always though it would be awkward, if either of them were ever to say it. After all, if they said those words out-loud then that would kind of be like admitting that this whole thing was real. That even if it wasn’t obvious - and god knows it wasn’t even obvious to them - there was something there between Jimmy’s silent one armed hugs that went on a bit too long and Pete’s shy glances that he thought Jimmy couldn’t see.

Jimmy wasn’t quite sure what it was, and he wasn’t sure he was meant to. He was only sixteen for god’s sake and he didn’t really know who he was yet, let alone what anyone else was to him. That’s why they hadn’t said anything, that’s why he’d hoped it would stay that way.

He could tell that Pete hadn’t meant to say it, that it had just slipped from his lips, eased on by tiredness as they sat on the beach watching the sun rise. When Jimmy looked up again, Pete’s cheeks was turning red in front of him and there was a glassiness to his eyes that damn near broke Jimmy’s heart.

So Jimmy hadn’t meant to say it either, but he couldn’t leave Pete in that state. So he slung one arm around Pete’s shoulder and pulled him back to lie on the sand,

“Come here you dork, I love you too”
thesoulofchaos: (Default)
Originally posted by [livejournal.com profile] thesoulofchaos at On the (late) sixth day of Christmas...
...my true love gave to me six open books, five punishments, four floods of tears, three portents of doom, two buried secrets and one outstretched hand.

Title: Storytime
Fandom: Papo & Yo
Rating: PG
Word Count: 319

The skin tore from Quico’s knees as he fell through his bedroom door and in front of his bed. He scrambled forward and underneath his bed; his heart pounded against his chest as his backpack got caught on the bed frame and he wriggled frantically to take it off and drag it under the bed with him.

He recoiled against the chill of the wall, half-peeled paintwork scraped against his bare arms and he could taste the damp as he struggled to control his breathing. Footsteps thundered on the stairs and his father bellowed his name.
His bedroom door clattered open and he watched his father’s feet stagger in the doorway. Quico held his breath and prayed that his father was too drunk to even think of searching the room. As seconds seemed to drag by, the universe answered his prayers for once and his father turned unsteadily on his feet and teetered back out of the room.

Quico’s chest screamed in relief as he let out the breath he had been holding, but he lay still for another five minutes. Convinced his father had returned to the front room, Quico maneuvered his school bag around to the front of him and slid out the novel they were studying.

The other children in his class hated their reading assignment - they probably had more exciting books at home to read. All of Quico’s books, the few that his mother had bought him, had gone on the fire the previous winter. He had mustered up the courage to protest their burning, and had been given a sharp backhand for his troubles.

As he lost himself in the words on the page, Quico transported himself to another life. Even as the sun began to set and the light diminished, as he squinted and strained his eyes to read, and his body ached from hours against the wooden floor; Quico read on.




Title: No fairytale
Fandom: Bomb Girls
Rating: PG
Word Count: 263

Kate ran her fingers along the spines of her books and sighed. She couldn’t afford new books, and she’d read these all thrice over. She’d never been given free reign on what she could read, not under her father’s roof, but now she could scour book stores and markets and take home whatever took her fancy. Or at least when her funds allowed her.

She wondered if any of the other girls had books she could borrow. Vera probably had some hideously trashy romance stories that were just risque enough that Kate’s strict Catholic upbringing would prevent her from finishing them - no matter how much she secretly might want to. Gladys probably had a library of her own at her parents’ house - most of them unread, which was practically a crime in Kate’s mind.

Kate’s lips twisted into a smile as she wondered whether Betty would have any books. She shook her head and chuckled to herself. She probably did, just didn’t want anyone to know that she curled up with a book at night. Kate was wondering whether Betty hid her books under her bed, when a darker thought crossed her mind and she felt guilty for making fun of her friend, even if it were in her own head.

Kate’s imagination conjured up images of Betty, younger and confused by her feelings, finding books that might help her find closure and having to hide those books because if anyone found them… Kate shook her head and decided to risk the embarrassment of going to ask Vera for a book to read.





Title: Torn Apart
Fandom: Elementary
Rating: G
Word Count: 380
Note: Spoilers for Season 2 Episodes 21, 22, and 23. A slight alternative to what happened in the show.

This couldn't have happened.

He should never have let this happen. He was her friend. He was meant to protect her.

Sherlock paced his front room, his hands clenching and grasping at thin air as he struggled. Struggled to think about all the possibilities, the facts, the statistics. Watson was gone, and it was his fault. If he had only swallowed his pride, agreed to accompany her to meet with Mycroft. If he had valued her more. If he...

If he had just been her friend.

Sherlock grabbed the nearest object, a side-table and threw it, not caring where it landed. The legs shattered when it hit the wall, leaving a dent in the otherwise pristine decor of the room. It didn't make him feel any better. His blood raged with guilt and fury, and he stormed over to the book case, climbed the ladder and retrieved the book from the top shelf. Once he had descended again, he threw the book open on the nearest table and stared at it.

At the cut out in the pages.

At the bag of heroin.

He could feel the pull - which he knew was ridiculous because it was a bag of drugs, nothing more. He wanted to reach out and touch it but he knew that if he did...

If he did they wouldn't get her back.

She had made him the man he was today, and even if he didn't tell her often enough, she had saved him. He owed her more than he could ever repay, and to take up that bag now would be to spit on everything she had done for him.

He grabbed the book and stormed out of the front room, up the stairs two at a time, and came to a halt in the bathroom.

He couldn't remember how long he stood there, fingers whitened by the tightness of his grip on the book, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that eventually he held the book over the toilet, turned it over, and let the bag fall out. Before he could freeze again, he flush it and walked away.

He made it to the landing before he fell to his knees.

They had to get her back.

He had to get her back.



Title: Study Night
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Rating: PG
Word Count: 525


“I just don’t see why…”

“…the slayer should have to kill the bad guys, save the world, rescue the damsel, and do homework as well”, Willow finished for her and Buffy couldn’t help but smile,

“Guess I use that one a bit too often?” Willow just gave her one of those looks - the despairing, sexy librarian looks. Not that Buffy named Willow’s looks. And especially not as sexy.

“It’ll get easier once you get started - it’s just an analysis piece, what you think the author was saying”

“I know what the author was saying, he wrote it down, it’s there”, Buffy waved her hand over the open page, “That’s it, end of homework, want to get popcorn?”, she pushed herself up onto her hands and knees and started to get off the bed where they were studying.

“I’m serious Buffy”, and now Willow looked a little bit hurt and that was a Willow look that Buffy couldn’t deal with, so she settled back down and read over the poem again, and again. Then finally she rolled onto her back and covered her face with her hands.

“I don’t know Will, I just…why wouldn’t the author just say what they wanted to say?”, Buffy groaned, “See me, I don’t see the point in beating around the bush. Just get right in there and say what you’re thinking”. She felt the mattress raise and then dip again as Willow moved, and a quick peek from behind her hands placed Willow sat cross legged beside her.

“It’s not always so easy though”, and Willow didn’t sound so Willowy anymore, and Buffy lowered her hands, “Sometimes what you really want to say might get you hurt, or expose you too much, leave you open to pain or criticism, so you hide it, code it in writing and words”. Buffy shifted up onto her elbows and tried to read Willow’s face, but her red-headed friend was stubbornly focused on the anthology on the bed.

“Sometimes…”, Willow continued, “We just don’t ever get to say what we really want to say”.

“Hey…”, and Buffy balanced herself so she could reach out and grab Willow’s hand, “you need me to do something for you? Can I help?” Willow finally looked at her, but Buffy couldn’t work out what she was thinking, so they just stayed there for a while, until Willow shook her head,

“It’s fine. You can shift your butt around and do your homework though since I’m giving up my precious Thursday night to help you”, and Buffy chuckled at her words as she maneuvered herself back around to pick up her notepad.

“You love it, how could your evening possible be better than spending it with me?”, Buffy teased, and then switched to a more serious tone, “You know you can tell me anything right Will?”.

“I know”, Willow nodded, but her eyes didn’t quite agree with her words, and Buffy wasn’t sure if there was anything she could really do about that.

Monsters and ends of the world, now those she could deal with. Books and emotions, might as well have been all Latin to her.




Title: Books and Memories
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: G
Word Count: 357
Note: Per [livejournal.com profile] sabethea’s request that I attempt a Harry Potter fic when my knowledge of the fandom comes from 12daysofchristmas/40fandoms and TellTale Lego games.


Professor Remus Lupin stopped on his way towards his classroom and looked across at the sight unfolding across the courtyard. Ron Weasley was sat up on one of the tables, and from the look on his face, and the exasperation on Hermione Granger’s face, he was clearly trying to get her to give up on her reading. Of course, Harry Potter was close by, although he didn’t seem to be involved in the press-ganging. Remus shook his head with a wry smile and continued on his way.

His friends had loved to tease him too, especially if they found him tucked up in the common room with a book in his lap when they came in sweating and covered in mud from Quidditch training. Sirius would snatch the book out of his hands and put on this squinted expression of disdain before throwing it back into his lap and announcing that he was going to take a shower.

James was a lot more subtle. He would ask Remus if he were alright, up in the common room by himself, under the guise of checking that he hadn’t felt pushed aside or left out. Remus suspected he just found it as hard to believe as Sirius, that anyone would want to spend their afternoon reading. Then James would follow Sirius, and once more Remus had peace and quiet.

He couldn’t have expected them to understand the appeal of books for him - the ability to lose oneself in a tale and travel through time and space to experience something as someone, anyone, else. Even if it were only for a short while. He couldn’t blame them for that, they had done the best they could to understand him and for that he was eternally grateful. But it didn’t stop him wishing that he could just be something other than what he was.

He clenched his jaw as he caught himself, drifting off into memories of his school friends. He didn’t allow himself to do that anymore; what good could come from it when two were dead and a third locked up?

No book could take him away from that.




T itle: W hen you read to me
Fandom: Bully
Rating: PG
Word Count: 374

It was one of those things that just no-one knew about him. Although, to be fair, those things could practically fill a book. Everyone thought Jimmy Hopkins was so simple to work out, a little thug with too much time and not enough discipline. Sometimes it was easier to just let them think that.

Pete had found out, and of course he bloody had, and Jimmy had tried to push him away because that’s what he did. It was humiliating and if Pete had told anyone then Jimmy would have been the laughing stock of the school. Except, Pete didn’t tell anyone and Jimmy had never really thought her would. Mostly he was just embarrassed that Pete knew.

They hadn’t really spoken about it. Pete just found him one day, in the corner of the library, with his fists clenched and pressed hard into the top of the desk and turning white at the knuckles as he struggled over the book in front of him. Pete hadn’t asked any questions, he just sat down next to Jimmy, and waited in silence for a while. Jimmy’s face had gone hot as the words began to sway again and everything he had just spent the last ten minutes ramming into his brain went straight back out of it. Then Pete had pulled his own copy of the book out of his rucksack and put his English book on the table beside Jimmy’s.

“Look at the descriptions used in the first three paragraphs, what do you think the reader is meant to feel about the protagonist”, Pete had read off the question and then proceeded to read the first three paragraphs aloud. It was clumsy and unsubtle, and Jimmy knew damn well what he was trying to do, and he wanted to be angry or feel patronised but this was Pete and he was just trying to help.

So Jimmy let him read and then found an answer rolling off his tongue after Pete finished, and from there it just kind of worked.

So they did it again, every damn week in that same corner of the library where no-one would bother them. Pete read and they discussed, and Jimmy didn’t feel so stupid anymore.

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