|On the tenth day of Christmas...
||[Jan. 10th, 2016|09:13 am]
Twelve Days of Christmas Challenge!
|[||Tags|||||buffy the vampire slayer, day 10, elementary, final fantasy viii, gears of war, infamous, lego, malory towers, numbers, prototype, thesoulofchaos||]|
...ten shocking moments, nine recorded happenings, eight nosy parkers, seven Cupid's arrows, six open books, five punishments, four floods of tears, three portents of doom, two buried secrets, and one outstretched hand.
Title: Secrets of Balamb Garden
Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
Word Count: 116
[Click to continue]Squall wasn’t prone to moments of disbelief. He fought monsters on a daily basis and wielded magic that many would never believe existed. When you had to power to pull fire from thin air and call forth mighty creatures to fight on your behalf, there was very little that could shock you.
Still, as he stood at the window, palms sweating even as they pressed against cool glass, he couldn’t help but stare in disbelief at the sight before him. He might have predicted many things, but that the emergency plan for Balamb Garden would be to move the whole school because the damn thing could fly…that hadn’t even been a blip on his radar.
Fandom: Prince of Persia
Word Count: 167
[Click to continue]
The Prince had quickly learnt that reversing events with the Sands of Time was not the same as events never having happened in the first place.
He would rather have preferred the second option.
It seemed a wonderful artifact to have at first - granting the user the ability to cheat death again and again. Except death was not shrugged off entirely, and forever kept one hand ghosting at the Prince’s shoulder.
The Sands didn’t erase memories, didn’t erase the experiences that he went through. He shuddered every-time he approached a corridor and saw it full of swinging blades and arrow traps; recalling memories of blades cutting through him like butter only to be removed as if it had never happened when he clasped the Sands and invoked their power. The pain remained though - and how many had the pleasure of knowing exactly how it felt to die in so many ways and live to tell the tale.
Sometimes it almost seemed like death would be preferable.
Fandom: Malory Towers
[Click to continue]For a second Sally regretted her actions.
She knew from experience that touching Darrell when she was in a temper was a terrible idea. Oh it was quite one thing to put a cooling hand on Darrell’s shoulder or to quickly squeeze her hand when the initial sparks of a rising temper were showing; but quite another when Darrell was barely holding onto her emotions.
Yet she had done it anyway. Perhaps it had been the peculiar swirl of emotions that marred Darrell’s eyes that had prompted it; perhaps it had been the fact that Alicia Johns had been involved, whispering something to Darrell on the way back from lacrosse practice that had pushed Darrell into this state; perhaps it was desperation because Darrell hadn’t responded to her efforts, blocking her out with one word replies that were so out of character.
She could perhaps about it all day, but the fact was when Darrell had tried to leave the dorm Sally had grabbed her by the elbow.
Darrell response had been instant and Sally found herself pushed back into the wall with Darrell’s hands gripping her wrists. As shocked as Sally was, it was short-lived because another emotion took it’s place.
Darrell looked like she had startled herself with her own actions, and now that she found herself pressing Sally bodily against the wall of the dorms, she didn’t seem to know what to do. Sally watched as Darrell’s eyes flickered down, her gaze resting momentarily on Sally’s lips. Sally was in no state to be logical about any of this; all she could think about was just how close Darrell was to her, how right it felt to be here, and how much she desperately wanted Darrell to just close the last few inches and kiss her.
The sound of voices from the corridor broke them apart as quickly as they had come together, and Darrell left the room before Sally could break the silence. Sally slid down the wall and leant her head back against it once she was sat at the bottom. She let out a breath that she hadn’t realised she’d been holding, and ran one hand through her hair.
She had no idea how they were going to sort this out, but at least she had a good idea what Darrell didn’t want to talk about.
Title: Quantifiable Fear
Rating : PG
Wo rd Count: 17 6
Notes: After events of Season 2, Episode 21.
[Click to continue]Every night was the same.
Out of nowhere he would hear it, the violent crack echoing through the dark, and he would bolt upright in bed. Sweat poured from his face and his whole body trembled as he looked around frantically, reassured himself that he was in his room, in his bed. That he was safe.
He was a mathematician, he shouldn’t be having nightmares about gunshots and spending nights in a half paranoid glaze as he avoided stepping too close to any of the windows.
It wasn’t that Charlie thought he was invincible - he was more than aware enough of the limitation, the mortality that face him. It was just the thrill of being caught up so completely in something he loved; it made him forget that in any single moment his life could be wiped away.
He told the others that he was okay now, managed to keep up the facade for as long as they were around, but night brought with it the darkness and in the darkness he was anything but okay.
Title: Like high-school all over again.
Fandom: Gears of War series
Word Count: 362
[Click to continue]All Baird had wanted was to go for a goddamn piss.
He shoulda been more careful really, checked over his shoulder. Years of hearing about criminals that wanted to savage his family because of his father’s work in court had usually made him more careful. Still, he could always blame being out of his depth surrounded by people and not machines.
Like that would fucking help now. Baird kicked out hard at the guy who had smashed his head off the edge of the toilet, and sent him crashing back through the cubicle door. He summoned up his strength and threw himself at his other assailant with a sound somewhere between a roar and a shout. Guys always underestimated him - saw a geeky little rich boy with a smart mouth and figured they could get away with pushing him around.
He crashed to the floor with the other guy and managed to land two solid punches before he was flung backwards into the wall. Even before his head stopped ringing from the second blow in less than as many minutes, he was smacked across the face and sent sprawling across the piss stained floor.
“What the hell y’all doing in here?”, a voice boomed from the doorway, and the two men stopped their assault on Baird, “Get your asses outta here so I can use the bathroom in peace”.
Baird pushed himself to his feet and moved to lumber forward and throw one final punch, but the new arrival - easily a head taller than him grabbed his assailants by the back of their armour and flung them towards the door.
“Got your bodyguard now Baird, but you’ll get yours soon enough”, one of them growled just before the door slammed behind them.
“Damn, nice company you keep”, the other Gear chuckled as he strolled over to the urinal, and Baird groaned as he finally recognised the voice.
His rescuer was none other than Augustus Cole - the Cole Train. He’d been saved by a fucking thrashball superstar.
Baird limped over to the sink to start cleaning his face and chuckled to himself at the irony of the jock saving the geek for once.
Word Count: 275
[Click to continue]Sherlock couldn’t pay attention to the paramedics - he didn’t need to hear what they had to say. He was fine. Watson was not. He shrugged off what he supposed was meant to be a comforting hand and stood up abruptly. He didn’t stop to listen to their protests, instead strode deliberately across to Captain Gregson who had just pulled up.
“I need a lift to the hospital”.
“Hello to you too Sherlock”, Gregson replied dryly.
“Watson is there”, and something changed in Gregson’s expression. He glanced over his shoulder and called over another officer, instructed them to drive Sherlock to the hospital.
Sherlock didn’t bother to pay attention to whatever the officer was saying in the seat beside him. He doubted it amounted to much - certainly not anything more important than what he was doing in his own mind. He recalled the attack; replayed the scenario in his head and tried to concentrate on running calculations and trajectories. Except he was missing variables. The crack of the gun was louder than he had anticipated and Watson had pushed him aside so quickly that he couldn’t recall where she had been standing.
When he had looked up the suspect was gone and Watson…
Sherlock shook his head and tried to ignore the memories, but years of fine tuning his senses meant that the smell of gunpowder and blood still clung to his nose, the impact of the bullet rang through his ears, he could almost still feel the tightness of Watson’s grip where she had grabbed his hand.
He almost wished he could focus on whatever it was the man next to him was talking about.
Word Count: 166
[Click to continue]Alex had felt sorry for the pathologist - not all your corpses came back to life. He had checked before he smashed out the nearest window that the poor old bloke hadn’t had a heart attack, and he’d dialled 911 and left the phone off the hook, just in case.
It felt strange to think of him now and think of another person with such sympathy, even less than forty eight hours later. Alex wanted to blame dying for yanking the empathy right out of him, but if he were honest he was a git before any of this had happened so maybe dying and the mutation had just heightened that.
Killing had become such a normality in such a short space of time; as his body twisted and turned with the flow of the pathogen and mutated beyond what a human should look like and be able to do, Alex held onto that one sympathetic feeling. It might be the only damn thing keeping him human.
Title: Show me yours
Word Count: 260
[Click to continue]
“That’s pretty good”, Cole puffed when he finally hoisted himself up on top of the skyscraper alongside the other mutant he had met, Alex Mercer, “Would make my life a bit easier to be able to jump like that”.
“You got the whole electric hovering going on though”, Alex replied, “Looks cooler than weird-ass mutations spurting out of you every other moment”.
“Dude, your arms change into wings”
“Claws too, freaky looking tentacle things that go into the floor as well - not a hit with the ladies though, unsurprisingly”, and the other man sounded smug about his abilities all the same though, “Anyway, you’ve seen enough of me, show me what you’ve got”.
“You might not want to stand so close”, Cole suggested, but Alex just shrugged.
“What’s it gonna do? I’m already dead”, and Cole shook his head in reply. He clenched his fists and raised them above his head, glanced at Alex to give him one more chance to back off and then dropped to his knee and slammed his fists down against the concrete. The sparks coursed through him for a split second and then the tell-tale crack sounded as lighting arched up high in a circle around him.
He didn’t hear anything but when he looked up, Alex was gone. Cole jogged over to the edge of the roof and peered down to the street below where there was a man size crater just visible on the sidewalk.
“Shit”, Cole muttered. Alex might not be dead, but he was sure going to be pissed.
Title: Demons Inside
Fandom: Malory Towers/Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Word Count: 1,084
Note: At prompting from sabethea after her fic from Day 6 (and quite frankly versipellis is getting some blame too for seconding it) - demonic possession, awkward conversations, and a seriously lacking education system.
[Click to continue]Darrell pushed the hand on her shoulder away and tried once more to get to the door. But the blonde woman was blocking her way and the red-head beside her was so persistent.
“I am fine!”, Darrell snapped, forgetting that she was meant to be respectful to adults because right now, with whatever had happened to Sally, that didn’t seem important.
“You are not”, the red-head pushed her back towards one of the chairs, “You’re injured”, and the words brought about the throb in Darrell’s temple and the ache in her side that she had so far managed to ignore.
“It doesn’t hurt, just let me go”
“Sit yourself down there now or so help me…”, and with the new tone in the red-head’s voice, Darrell sat down abruptly in the chair and went silent. The blonde was laughing now and the older man was just shaking his head and muttering to himself.
“I’m Willow”, the woman tending to the wound on Darrell’s forehead introduced herself after a minute or so of uncomfortable silence, “That’s Buffy”, and the blonde waved and Darrell briefly wondered what sort of name Buffy was but then considered with her own name perhaps she shouldn’t be passing judgment, “and that’s Giles”.
“Darrell…and the girl that your friend kicked through the window is Sally”, and Darrell glanced deliberately at Buffy who just rolled her eyes,
“She was going to kill you”, Buffy shot back and Darrell didn’t miss the looks that Willow and Giles promptly shot at her which prompted her to raise her hands and mutter an apology. Darrell looked back at Willow and tried not to think about the fact that Sally had thrown her halfway across the room, or that her eyes had turned black and her skin had flared with this peculiar hue that Darrell just couldn’t explain.
“Why did she attack me?”, Darrell asked eventually and Willow’s face softened.
“She’s not herself”
“But..how did she…”, and Darrell frowned as she tried to make sense of what she had seen,
“Crash course for you kid”, Buffy stepped forward, “Big evils are real. Demons, vampires, werewolves; all the things you might have read about in books are real and I hunt them, keep the world safe”.
Darrell wasn’t sure how long she stared at Buffy before she finally managed to say something, “So you’re telling me that demons are real and one of them has possessed my friend?”
“Well - I don’t know if possession is quite the right word, but I suppose for a lack of…”, and then Buffy interrupted Giles mid-sentence, which was something she probably did a lot given Giles’ eye roll.
“Really don’t think the kid needs the Watcher’s fuddy-duddy definition of this”, and then the slayer crouched down in front of Darrell, “basically, yeah. Some demon’s got its claws in your friend and we need to sort it out”.
Darrell closed her eyes and massaged the side of her head that was beginning to throb now with pain - perhaps Willow had been right about how badly she’d been hurt - as she tried to think clearly,
“So you need to make her not controlled by this demon thing? You’re not…I won’t let you kill her”, the sudden realisation of what Buffy had said previously about hunting ran through Darrell and she jumped to her feet, knocking the chair behind her over and making Willow jump. Buffy just smirked, in a manner infuriatingly familiar to Alicia, and slowly stood up.
“We don’t need to hurt her”, Buffy said, and Darrell just looked pointedly at the shattered window that the blonde had previously kicked Sally out of.
“She was just about to…”, and then Willow put one hand on Buffy’s shoulder and raised an eyebrow; Buffy sighed, “We’re not going to kill her, I promise”.
“So what do you…I…need to do?”, Darrell asked, and she didn’t miss the brief glance between Buffy and Willow. She was well aware that she was probably not going to be much help - but she was hardly about to let them run off and find Sally without her.
“Willow’s gonna do some magic, we’re gonna vanquish the big bad, and bring home the girl, and stop just short of saving the world again, okay?”, and Darrell wasn’t entirely certain she was following Buffy, but she was sure that was as much to do with Buffy as it was to do with her. The head injury was probably complicating things as well.
She wondered how she was supposed to explain that one to everyone in the morning.
And the broken window.
“Why did Sally get possessed? Is it going to happen again?”
“We’re working on making sure she doesn’t”, Willow had moved over to the stack of books and what looked like herbs and liquids on the table beside Giles, “she’s going to have to drink this potion”, and Willow held up a strange, dark grey liquid, “otherwise the demon…”, and then Willow hesitated.
Darrell waited, confused, until Willow finally found her voice again, “You see, if we don’t get her to drink this then your friend will just get get like this every time she has her period, but we’re going to handle it”, and Willow looked mortified, although Darrell wasn’t quite sure why. Darrell ran over the words in her head and frowned,
“Alright, one more question”, Buffy said, “Then we are leaving before your friend kills someone”.
“These periods Sally’s having? What are they?”, and all of a sudden some of the colour drained from Buffy’s face and she looked frantically at Giles. The older man just held up his hands and shook his head. Buffy glanced at Willow, who was now a similar shade of red to her hair, and then finally looked back at Darrell who was beginning to worry,
“How old are you kid?”, Buffy asked.
“Fifteen”, and Darrell had no idea why that mattered.
“That’s not uncommon Buff”, Willow offered, and Buffy just sighed.
“You know what? We’re gonna go save your friend”, Buffy finally said, putting her hands on Darrell’s shoulders, “We’ll get this potion sorted, get her back to normal for you, and then Giles is going to have a nice long conversation with your head-teacher and suggest that this particular discussion is added to your curriculum”, Buffy cocked her head to one side, “you know, minus the demonic possession part- God knows periods are stressful enough without that bit of information”.
Title: Master Creations
Fandom: Various Lego Series
Word Count: 450
[Click to continue]“I don’t think that’s right…”, Robin shuffled his feet and winced at the monstrosity in front of them.
“Is that a hand?”, Frodo staggered, stiff-legged over to the vehicle and bent at the wait to look at it. A chunk of the top propeller fell on him with a crash and bricks scattered everywhere.
“Bloody hell, Emmett killed him”, Ron stepped beside Robin and then rolled his eyes (figuratively of course since they didn’t move like that) when Hermione corrected him.
“Short of being melted, we can’t actually be killed. We’ll just have to reassemble him”, and she started to shift the blocks, joined by Chewbacca and Luke Skywalker.
“I liked it better when we couldn’t talk”, Rob grumbled, wishing his arms bent at the elbows so he could fold them across his chest.
“Good idea letting us speak was not. Yes, hmmm.”, Yoda’s voice made Ron jump and he turned to glare at the alien - or at least his ghostly form.
“How do you explain him then?”, Robin asked, “How’s he a ghost if we can’t die?”
“Plot device”, Hermione called from behind the pile of bricks, “I’ve found his legs”.
“Where’s Emmett gone anyway?”, Luke grumbled as he dug out an arm, “Master builder my a…”
“Does this belong to you?”, Wyldestyle stepped alongside Robin and held out Frodo’s head, “It’s creeping me out”.
“Ah…haven’t found his torso yet”, Hermione called, “Keep hold of him for me?”
“I would rather she didn’t”, Frodo grumbled and Wyldestyle glanced at the head in disdain before turning and handing it to Gollum, whose face switched to a wide toothy grin.
“Master, I will protects you”, and he clutched Frodo’s head to his chest.
“This is worse”, Frodo mumbled.
“Is this Emmett’s doing?”, Wyldestyle asked, waving towards the deformed vehicle.
“Yeah…Bruce didn’t take it well - it used to be the batmobile. I think he might have cried a little”, Robin smirked.
“Batman doesn’t cry”, a deep voice boomed from the plastic trees behind them.
“But apparently he does hide in trees”, Wyldestyle commented, “I wish Emmett would just, you know, use the master builder powers but no - every so often he gets this harebrained idea to try something different”.
Chewbacce roared and pointed up at the window, Luke followed his gestured with his eyes then said, “It’s nearly bathtime, we’re going to be packed away soon”.
“I am not going back in my box like this”, Frodo shouted, “So how about someone goes to get our master builder and sorts this out?”
“Calm down little hobbit, I’ll go”, Wyldestyle sighed, and as she walked away she couldn’t help but chuckle.
She bet Bruce did cry - he loved that car.