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.
thesoulofchaos: (Default)
Originally posted by [livejournal.com profile] thesoulofchaos at On the fourth day of Christmas...
...my true love gave to me, fics containing tears and misery.

...four floods of tears, three portents of doom, two buried secrets, and one outstretched hand.

Title: Not Afraid to Cry
Fandom: Necessary Roughness
Rating: PG
Word Count: 231

There were always tears in therapy. Or almost always tears. There was always the exception to the rule. Usually not the person who was convinced they would be the exception to the rule.

Dani had seen tears from the unlikeliest people. She had been begged and sworn to secrecy over emotional outbursts from hulking sports stars who didn’t want anyone to know they cried. God forbid.

Of course Dani never told anyone - those moments of vulnerability were nobody else’s business - but she had to wonder when people became so ashamed of tears.

T.K wasn’t afraid to cry - and Dani had to admit that that shocked her. She had spent so longer dealing with superstars that denied their every emotion, that it was a shock to see one who wore theirs so openly.

T.K raged and shouted, he sulked and pouted, and he cried and begged for forgiveness like Dani had never seen. She had sat beside him, barely coming up to his shoulder and let him lean against her as he opened up his heart piece by piece. He didn’t really believe it now, but it was helping him, bringing him out of his self-destructive habits and building better ones anew.

He might not believe in the process just yet, but he did believe in her, and Dani wished she had a few more clients who weren’t afraid to cry.



Title: Pushing You Away
Fandom: Malory Towers
Rating: PG
Word Count: 442

The door slammed after Darrell’s patience ran out and she stormed out of the room. Sally tucked her knees in against her chest and rested her forehead on them - trying to quell the sickening knot of guilt and shame inside her. She had been cruel, again. She knew her words, her actions would hurt Darrell; but she said them, did it anyway.

Darrell would come back, she always did. She was the only one who did anymore. When you weren’t a particularly popular person in the first place - and she knew that a lot of people only socialised with her because of Darrell - it didn’t take many weeks of snappy comments, dark thoughts, and cold affect to push most people away.

Sally lay down on her bed and stared at the ceiling, there wasn’t even a pattern for her to stare at. She berated herself mentally for once again playing the same horrible game of pushing her friend away. She didn’t want her to go, after all she needed Darrell more than anyone, more than anything else. And as much as Sally wanted to blame someone else, Darrell hadn’t done anything wrong.

It was dark before Darrell returned, and Sally was in her nightwear facing the wall when the door opened. As soon as she heard the click of the door handle, Sally tried to calm her breathing, to stop her tears. It didn’t matter because Darrell always seemed to know when she’d been crying.

Sally wanted to protest when Darrell got into the bed behind her and wrapped her arms around Sally, she wanted to shrug Darrell’s affection off and prove to herself that it wasn’t true. That Sally wasn’t like that, that her relationship with Darrell wasn’t anything like that. But she wasn’t strong enough and the embrace was enough to bring the tears bubbling back to the surface and Sally choked on a sob. Darrell’s arms tightened around her and Sally let herself fall into the hug.

Darrell didn’t talk about it anymore, and Sally was glad for that. Her friend had asked questions in the beginning but that had always ended in arguments. Sally knew Darrell was deeply worried about her - the other woman wore her emotions close to the surface - but she just couldn’t tell her. To tell her about why her chest ached with sadness and her thoughts were swallowed by darkness, was to tell her about what had happened, about what people had been saying. Which meant telling Darrell that Sally was…that she felt…

And she just couldn’t do that.

So the questions had stopped and now Darrell just held her whilst she cried.




Title: Betrayed
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Rating: PG-12
Word Count: 299

Of course his bloody eyes had to go red. Stiles scooped water from the sink into his hands and splashed the cold water over his face. He heard the bell go for class but he wasn’t about to walk in there with his face like this, for Jackson to smirk at him and make some wise-ass comment, or to have to look at Scott through puffy red eyes after what that asshole did.

He gripped the edge of the sink and breathed out heavily. He didn’t even know why he was crying. It’s not like Lydia was his girlfriend or anything; she could do what she liked, Scott could do what he liked.

Except Lydia was meant to be with Jackson, and Scott was meant to be with Allison and not spending unclothed quality time with the girl his best friend had been crushing on for years. Stiles slammed his palm against the wall beside the mirror and cursed loudly when it hurt more than he expected.

He scrubbed at his eyes, threatened by tears again, with the back of his hand. He wasn’t sure which was worse - telling himself that hurting his hand had made him cry, or that thinking about Scott and Lydia had.

He splashed more water on his face but it was no good, any idiot would take one look at him and realise he’d been crying. He grabbed his backpack from the floor where he’d thrown it and slung it over one shoulder as he stormed out of the bathroom. There was no way he was letting anyone see him like this so he might as well go home.

He knew there’d be some changes when his best friend was turned into a werewolf.

He just didn’t expect him to change like this.




Title: Pathetic Excuse for a Man
Fandom: Ripper Street
Rating: PG
Word Count: 267

Goddammit, even though he’d heard it before, joked about it, always taken the words on the chin with a smirk and a half-cocked comment, it still hurt to hear it from her.

Captain Homer Jackson fell hard against his front door, wincing as his cheek smarted from the impact. He lifted one hand to try and check for blood but could barely see his hand through the darkness and whiskey, let alone any sign of injury. He tried once more to get the key in the lock, and after what seemed like hours of fumbling and dropping the damn key, he finally got the door open. Only to fall over the doorstep and land in a heap in his front room.

He dragged himself forward, his knees hurting now to match the pain in his face, and rolled onto his back so he could kick the front door closed. The crash reverberated around the room and Jackson lay still for a moment to keep the room from spinning.

He could never brush off her barbs; she always knew what words would hurt the most. She would select the perfect words and slide them, like surgical knives, right into places where they would cause the most pain. She avoided the obvious, and took full advantage of the fact she knew about his past.

None of the others had that sort of ammo.

Jackson laughed, a bitter joyless bark, when he felt the tears start to trickle down his cheeks, and he didn’t bother to try and stop them. No-one was here to see him cry anyway.

Profile

thesoulofchaos: (Default)
thesoulofchaos

June 2017

S M T W T F S
     123
45678910
11121314151617
18192021222324
252627282930 

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jul. 23rd, 2017 04:59 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios