sideways: [tftb] gortys smiling (►we should be together)
[personal profile] sideways
Title: Second Verse
Challenge/Prompt: #169 - Melancholy
Original Fiction or Fanfiction: Original
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own pandemics.
Summary: -same as the first verse.

◘◘◘

The baby cries. Your eyes open.

The outflung arm is sheer reflex; there’s nothing there but your gun, and you don’t need that just now. (Insert tasteless joke, uncertain chuckle, dry mouth.) There haven’t been lights for three months, but you still reach. Reflex. Repetition. You’re a quick learner, but you get locked in the same motions so easily.

Dark hallway waits. Narrow enough to catch you if you stagger, though you don’t like to touch.

(Insert dank mold, peeling paint, sealed windows.)

A familiar pathway. Reflex. Repetition.

(Insert cold fever, black bile, dark city.)

Eyes open. The baby cries.
sideways: [o] flowers on a window sill (►other upper echelon)
[personal profile] sideways
Title: Screening and Selection
Challenge/Prompt: #168 - Help
Original Fiction or Fanfiction: Original
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own terrible ideas.
Summary: A tutor must be safe to have around the children.

◘◘◘

The madam frets and the sir frowns, but it’s the guard who suggests taking his thumbs.

“Can’t hold no blade nor staff nor strangling wire that way,” he says, hooking his own into his belt in placid mockery.

(In eight years’ time he will lean upon the guard’s chest and gently, so gently, press the heels of his palms against the bulge of his throat. The eyelids will twitch, sluggish with the numbing poison swept under the taste of wine, and open just wide enough to see curled lips over yellow teeth.)

His fingers clench.

“Safest bet,” the guard says.
sideways: [supernatural] deceased angel (►flying men will hit the ground)
[personal profile] sideways
Title: Hermeneutics
Challenge/Prompt: #147 - Exile
Original Fiction or Fanfiction: Original
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own blatant lies.
Summary: You are the only witness.

◘◘◘

You do not hold grudges, you hold truths, and the truth is you cannot be cast out of a place you never were.

They should understand this, these little lives fled from a world where truth is perspective and history a debate, but still their first steps are marred by clutching, weeping, whimpering. Still they try to rebuild and reshape, though there is not much that can be formed from stale ashes and viscera, as well you know. As well you knew.

Because the truth is-

The truth is-

You cannot be cast out of a place that never was.
sideways: [tftb] gortys smiling (►we should be together)
[personal profile] sideways
Title: Price of Admission
Challenge/Prompt: #142 - Battle
Original Fiction or Fanfiction: Original
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own disciplinary techniques.
Summary: He holds her teachings in the highest esteem.

◘◘◘

“What did you do?” she would ask him, and he would stand before with hands clasped behind his back and shoulders soldier-stiff and tell her. A classic technique, he had heard her say. Teaches honesty. Responsibility. Good-little-boy necessities.

He clasps his hands now in a nostalgic nod, but he hasn’t washed yet and the feeling is less than pleasant, so he lets them swing loose by his sides once more. She doesn’t seem to notice, kneeling before him with eyes cast upwards, a tremble on her lips and reaching hand.

“What did you do,” she whispers. “What did you do.”

-

Title: an open letter
Challenge/Prompt: #143 - Forgotten
Original Fiction or Fanfiction: Original
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own the apocalypse.
Summary: found the pen behind the desk it was from thailand pretty useless really but at least i can do this 

◘◘◘

my name

check under the couch there will be a hole in the underside and a gun is in there. no ammo but maybe you will have more luck than me. there are also some other things take them if you want leave them if you dont im not going to care.

i dont think i was very good at this. i hope you are. i hope you find this i hope you EXIST never heard of one-in-seven-billion statistics so there has to be someone. thats just maths.

just want someone to know i was here MY NAME IS CA
sideways: [o] I am a tree (►city life has crumbled)
[personal profile] sideways
Title: Professor Plum
Challenge/Prompt: #121 - Reach
Original Fiction or Fanfiction: Original
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own federal agents, but I am starting to own these guys.
Summary: From the same continuity as Mayflies (#114 - Value) and Cell Count (#120 – Comfort) because apparently I can’t stop. Probably ought to give the darn thing a name. (‘The Red Shirt Blues’? Yes, you can hit me.) Also this ended up having a lot less to do with ‘reach’ than originally intended, oops.

◘◘◘

Ellis breaks away from them twenty minutes in, heading for a side doorway, leaning to peer inside.

“Hey,” she snaps, but he doesn’t stop and she curls her lip, shakes her head. “Fuck’s sake. That’s just asking to be clued.”

He stays close, shoulder to shoulder and thigh to hip, shoots her a raised eyebrow look. Here long enough to know better, not lingo. “That’s a bad thing?”

“Not get a clue, become a clue. His face gets eaten; now we know it eats faces.”

Crack. Squelch. Scream.

They spin.

“Now we know it eats livers,” she amends. “Heads up.”
sideways: [orphan black] helena looking to the side (►another telepathic rendezvous)
[personal profile] sideways
Title: Cell Count
Challenge/Prompt: #120 - Comfort
Original Fiction or Fanfiction: Original
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I still do not own federal agents.
Summary: From the same continuity as Mayflies (#114 - Value.)

◘◘◘

“Fuck my life,” he mutters into his own palm, crooked elbow next to his ear and couch arm under his head. “Eff em el. That’s what the kids say. I think.”

He catches her exasperated look through his fingers. “You’re twenty-nine.”

“So are you calling me too young or too old?”

She just spreads the fingers of his other hand and he hisses, shredded skin protesting as its weak knottings are tested.

“It’s healing,” she says. “Normally.”

“Humanly-normally?”

“Yes.” The hands slip upwards to squeeze his wrist above the missing pieces.

“Can I swear again?” he says, and she laughs.
sideways: [o] manmade bird perched on girl's finger (Default)
[personal profile] sideways
Title: Mayflies
Challenge/Prompt: #114 - Value 
Original Fiction or Fanfiction: Original
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own federal agents.
Summary: Because the cannon fodder are people too.

◘◘◘

Afterwards, amidst the stark lights and radio conversations and flaking blood, she sits him down.

“We are not their partners,” she says to him patiently. “We are not even their back-up. Do you understand? We are fuel.”

He glances over her shoulder. They seem to be trying to decide how best to transport what’s left of Mainstone; shoeboxes are somewhat undignified. “That’s it?” he says. “I graduated Quantico for this?”

“Well,” she says and smiles brightly at him, raps a knuckle lightly against his forehead. “You could always get yourself bitten by something infectious and see if you graduate again."

sideways: [o] a great many photos at your feet (►not today or tomorrow)
[personal profile] sideways
Title: Assimilation
Challenge/Prompt: #97 - Ash 
Original Fiction or Fanfiction: Original
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own psychics.
Summary: The implantations are like mouse droppings - wretched, stinking reminders of unwanted visitors.

◘◘◘

The scans are sharp and clear, exposing dark scarring and twisted wiring; she reads the damage inside her own mind and rages. Each mar in the mapping is an enemy outpost, surrendered ground, and if she could she would push her fingers through her ears and burn it all.

He is steady, soothing, gentle pressure. Destruction in the name of creation, he tells her. Their touch but in your reach, and everything is the same at its centre.

The most important lesson of all, if she is to carry them forward.

Take it and break it and make it ours.

sideways: [gundam 00] marina seated (►my mind's running to you)
[personal profile] sideways

Title: E-0057
Challenge/Prompt: #95 - Copy
Original Fiction or Fanfiction: Gundam 00 
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I own even less than usual. Sunrise owns Gundam 00.
Summary: Mostly spoilers for S1, E11.

◘◘◘

seventy-four pairs of thin cotton shoes )
sideways: [o] manmade bird perched on girl's finger (Default)
[personal profile] sideways
Title: Blooded
Challenge/Prompt: #94 - Journey
Original Fiction or Fanfiction: Original
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own bodily fluids.
Summary: It hadn't seemed likely for a very long time, but here they are again, at the end of it all. 

◘◘◘

“You told me that if I abandoned you, any death or injury would be blood on my hands.”

The ward sparked between them, thrummed with a strength not felt for years.

“I did,” he said.

The ward designed by two, brought to life by five, broken by one.

They crouched together in the grimy room and his friend, enemy, friend held up his palm, blood still dribbling into his sleeve from the thin slash across his palm and painted across the tips of his fingers to match the swirled arcs etched on the ground. “It seems fortune favours the melodramatic."

sideways: [o] I am a tree (►city life has crumbled)
[personal profile] sideways

Title: Spelling
Challenge/Prompt: #93 - Sign
Original Fiction or Fanfiction: Original
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I do not own Auslan.
Summary: She does not know when it started. 

◘◘◘

She sweeps her hands in parallel widening spirals, and then deftly tugs the invisible line between them taut, and a month later a hurricane flattens three towns and scars a dozen others.

She pulls a clenched fist from her chest in a short, sharp motion, like drawing a blade free from her heart, and a week later her professor staggers and falls from the lectern, gasping through blue lips.

She does not know when it started; she does not know when it will stop.

She tries finger-spelling, quickly, desperately, tremulously, and by the next day he has forgotten her name.
 

sideways: [supernatural] deceased angel (►flying men will hit the ground)
[personal profile] sideways
Title: By Any Other
Challenge/Prompt: #87 - Menace
Original Fiction or Fanfiction: Original
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I do not own necromancy.
Summary: He didn't have much of a penchant for the dramatic. Or the imaginative.

◘◘◘

She tilted the skull to the side, admiring the sharp ridges, the smooth dips, the almost heart-shaped hollow where a nose would go in life, and glanced over to where her companion was still paging through the book, perpetual frown darkening his features. “So what do you call him? Grim? Black Shuck? Baskerville?”

“Don’t be dramatic,” he muttered. “I call him…” He paused, seemed to think a moment, and then said, “Dog.”

She and the skull shared a look. “Terrifying,” she observed dryly.

“That’s the first time I’ve heard him use a capital for it,” the skull replied. “It’s progress.”
 

sideways: [supernatural] deceased angel (►flying men will hit the ground)
[personal profile] sideways
Title: Hypothesis
Challenge/Prompt: #85 - Pain
Original Fiction or Fanfiction: Original
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own silly studies.
Summary: Funding allocations are unfair, really.

◘◘◘

The slap of the newspaper against the desk is loud in the small room, and his scoff equally so. Studies prove that removing a band aid slowly is indeed more painful than removing it quickly. The state of science in the modern day appals him. Over and over, millions of dollars are poured into plumped-up institutions of supposed education to better allow them to drone out conclusions so utterly banal it hurts.

Doctors and paramedics and survivalists quote every day the results of Nazi experiments.

They would, he feels, palming the knife again, do far better to fund his work. 

sideways: [o] manmade bird perched on girl's finger (►wish the wild was alive)
[personal profile] sideways
Title: Cryogenic
Challenge/Prompt: #84 - Ice
Original Fiction or Fanfiction: Original
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I do not own old people.
Summary: There is ice in her joints.

◘◘◘

While global warming makes men mutter, her own cooling begins. There is ice in her joints, a grinding, cracking mass that crunches in the same way and with the same sound as the snow that coats her three steps each year between December and February. It is a growing stiffness, a steady slowing and freezing—these are the knees that sank the Titanic.

She laughs when people talk of medicines and reparations and longevity, as if this is something she might want to change. People thrust millions into rubber-gloved hands to seek frozen eternity; she is doing it for herself.

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