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Feb. 7th, 2016

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Primeval/Malory Towers

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On the (late) seventh day of Christmas...

Originally posted by 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

[Click to continue]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

[Click to continue]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

[Click to continue]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

[Click to continue]“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


[Click to continue]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 sabethea, if anyone is out of character at all it’s because Lego characters don’t talk and they are my reference point.

[Click to continue]“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

[Click to continue]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”

On the (late) sixth day of Christmas...

Originally posted by 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

[Click to continue]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

[Click to continue]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.

[Click to continue]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


[Click to continue]“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 sabethea’s request that I attempt a Harry Potter fic when my knowledge of the fandom comes from 12daysofchristmas/40fandoms and TellTale Lego games.

[Click to continue]
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

[Click to continue]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.

On the fifth day of Christmas...

Originally posted by thesoulofchaos at On the fifth day of Christmas...
...my true love gave to me five punishments, four floods of tears, three portents of doom, two buried secrets, and one outstretched hand.

Note: Tomorrow's fics will either be posted very late in the day, or will be posted on Friday as I am driving back to London tomorrow and fully anticipate spending most of my day in traffic.


Title: Retribution
Fandom: Gotham
Rating: 12
Word Count: 187

[Click to continue]Fish Mooney swirled the contents of her wine glass and watched the young woman performing on the stage in front of her. She was good, but not good enough to keep Fish’s mind from wandering.

Fish took a long drink from her glass and set it down, someone would refill it. They knew better than to let her glass run dry. As the young woman finished her song and offered what she no doubt hoped was a self-assured smile, Fish’s mind returned to a certain Oswald Cobblepot.

A bitter smile pulled at the corners of her lip and she took up her glass again, dutiful refilled as she had expected. Nothing she could think of seemed a fitting response to the disloyalty her little Penguin had enacted upon her. The usual methods - the crushings inside cars at the scrap yard, the breaking of bones one by one, the hanging from meat hooks and beaten and left to freeze - all seemed too mundane and typical for the crime of such betrayal.

No, Fish needed something special for Penguin. After all, he deserved nothing less than her best.




Title: Endless
Fandom: Afro Samurai
Rating: 12
Words: 188

[Click to continue]Every whisper on the wind, every rustle across the earth sends Afro’s hands to his blade and his body in a rotation, preparing to defend himself against the attack he is certain is coming. Sometimes he’s right and he snatches up his blade just in time to slice open the chest of yet another warrior, desperate to snatch the headband from his still-warm corpse. Other times there’s nothing there but silence and shadows.

It’s a life of paranoia, an unhealthy way to live, but the way Afro sees it, it’s no more than he deserves. If he were the powers above, dictating the punishments for the way people lived, he would have given himself a much rawer deal.

Having to watch his back every moment for people trying to kill him still didn’t seem enough of a punishment for all that he had done, for the lives he had destroyed. He would have put himself through agony, endless pain and torture. Then again, he could see his path ahead, knew what he was going to do.

Despite what anyone said, he wasn’t sure any higher power could.




Title: Power Games
Fandom: Malory Towers
Rating: …12/15?
Word Count: 778
NB: I feel like I should put something here because in canon June is 15 I think - there is nothing overt, but it is implied. I’m not good at labeling stuff.

[Click to continue]June wasn’t proud of the feelings that insisted on niggling at her when she thought about Darrell Rivers. If anyone ever asked what she thought about Felicity’s older sister, she would jut out her chin and remark that she didn’t think much about her at all, considered it a waste of her time.

The truth was the older girl had been a regular fixture in her mind since the incident in First Form. For a while June had enjoyed the power she had, the ability to make Darrell snap with a few well placed words and phrases. But over time that changed, and June had just figured it was because, even if she wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, the whole incident had affected her rather more than she had anticipated.

That didn’t explain what she was feeling now though.

June gripped the notes in her hand, the bloody poem that Darrell had given her to memorise. June wasn’t too bothered by the work, memorising poems was hardly a chore for her. She just hated it when it was Darrell she had to deliver them to and not another one of the other older girls.

Darrell almost never spoke to June when she came in to repeat her punishment, sometimes their only interaction was for Darrell to hold out her hand to take the paper and jerk her head towards the door to indicate that June might leave once she had finished parroting off her lines. June could never quite explain why that bothered her so much.

June fidgeted uncomfortably as she tried to force herself to knock on the door. She would have to sooner or later, or risk someone opening it and finding her stood there like a sap. So she thudded in what she hoped was a petulant manner and waited to be summoned. She deliberately avoided eye contact with her cousin as she entered the room, fearing that Alicia might see something that she was trying to keep hidden, and tried to keep her frown firmly on her face as she approached Darrell, who didn’t even have the decency to look up from her work.

Darrell finally glanced at her and held out her hand for the poem, which June exchanged, then looked back at her work.

June started to reel off the poem, but in a change to the norm Darrell spoke,

“I’m not ready”, and June stopped.

She waited, squirming on the spot as Darrell returned her attention to what she was writing. It seemed like an eternity standing there, and June had to commend Darrell on finding a new way of making her suffer. Darrell finally put down her pen and turned to face June, who all of a sudden lost her tongue,

“You can start now”, and June so desperately didn’t want her body to react like it did to the feeling of Darrell humiliating her like this, but her stomach was tied in knots and there was this feeling in a far more intimate place that June didn’t even want to begin thinking about.

So she rattled off the poem, hoping her voice didn’t betray her by shaking or altering in pitch. Darrell just watched her, as if the whole procedure bored her, until June finished the final line. June shouldn’t have been surprised that Darrell didn’t dismiss her straight away, no doubt a continuation of the new ordeal she was intent on putting June through.

It felt like hours but it reality it was probably no more than a minute before Darrell stood up and took a few steps towards June. June wanted to stare back at her in an act of defiance but was horrified to find that as soon as Darrell was in front of her, her gaze dropped to the floor.

“Considering how often you’re up here June, we might be mistaken in believing that you rather enjoy doing this”, Darrell’s voice was cool and calm, but when June finally managed to make herself look at the other girl, there was something glinting in Darrell’s eyes that was far from that, “Out.”

June hated the way she obeyed so willingly, hated the fact that Darrell could do this to her in front of so many other people and she couldn’t find her tongue in time to say anything in response. But when she left the sixth form common room and broke into a sprint to the nearest bathroom to douse her face with cold water and try desperately not to think about how much she wanted to find somewhere private and…

…and that was the problem. June didn’t hate it, and Darrell wasn’t far wrong.



Title: Self-emolation
Fandom: Bioshock
Rating: PG
Word Count: 249

[Click to continue]It was only right, after all, to be punished appropriately for ones sins. Margaret carried on piling barrels around the room as she hummed to herself,

“It’s stuck in my head again darling, oh you know that song, that song! You know how it goes”, she called as she heaved the last of the barrels up into her barricade, “I’ll just have to ask someone what it’s called, you know I can’t stand it when I don’t remember things like this.”

Margaret skipped over to Dennis, where he lay sprawled across the floor. She was sure his head had been attached earlier in the day - he’d certainly had it at breakfast - but there was no harm down because she’d just stood it up next to him.

“I wish you’d use a mirror when you shave instead of doing it in the front room as you rush out the door”, Margaret sighed as she inspected Dennis’s gaunt face, “but I suppose it will do. We have to receive our punishment now Dennis”. She sat herself down primly on the sofa above Dennis and cast her eyes around the room with a content sigh. She’d never imagined that one would be able to find quite so many explosives in a quiet little place like Rapture.

“Are you ready dear?”, Margaret called, “Excellent, let’s go then”.

The explosion that wiped 31 Fairview Cross off the map (and a good few of the surrounding houses too) send shudders through the whole of Rapture.




Title: Losing people
Fandom: Angel
Rating: PG-12
Word Count: 211

[Click to continue]Everyone around him seems to end up dead.

Of course, it would happen eventually anyway, unless they were vampires or demons as well. That was the price he paid for befriending humans.

It hurt to think that one day Buffy too would be gone, even after all she had fought through and survived. And he would still be here, the same as he had been for hundreds of years. That was why it was easier to just stay away. Of course she thought he was punishing her, or she did at first. Angel wasn’t sure how much she thought about him now.

Her last visit to L.A had been so long ago.

As much as it hurt her, it hurt him more. He felt guilty that the pain of not seeing her, not being with her, was sometimes as great as the pain he felt from losing others close to him. When Doyle died it hurt, but not like losing her.

Losing Cordelia came close. The same gut-wrenching pain that made him wonder how humans, with far less power than he, managed to endure this sort of heart-ache again and again as the years went by.

So he couldn’t put himself through losing Buffy like that too. Not again.

On the fourth day of Christmas...

Originally posted by 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

[Click to continue]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

[Click to continue]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

[Click to continue]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

[Click to continue]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.

On the third day of Christmas

Originally posted by thesoulofchaos at On the third day of Christmas
my true love gave to me three portents of doom, two buried secrets, and one outstretched hand.

Title: Walking Past your Limits
Fandom: The Lord of the Rings
Rating: G
Word Count: 372

[Click to continue]Samwise Gamgee knew his limits.

Or at least…he thought he did.

Not long ago he would of said his world was the Shire, or Hobbiton to be exact, and he knew very little about the strange happenings throughout Middle-Earth and worried about the ones he did hear about even less. Hobbiton was safe, bad things weren't happening there, and his limits were around about four glasses of ale and two pipes of Pipe-weed.

He was a long way past those limits now, wrapped in his cloak and yawning as he kept watch. Frodo had offered to take the first watch but Sam had stubbornly positioned himself on top of the least uncomfortable looking rock he could find and tucked his pipe into his mouth. He didn’t have anything left to smoke but he liked it there anyway.

Frodo’s sleep was restless, it had been since the day they’d left the Shire, and he tossed and turned with a frown across his brow. The soft patter of feet sent a scowl across Sam’s face and he shot a filthy look at that wretched creature Gollum as he crept about nearby.

Sam wasn’t much of a reader anymore - not much time for that when your trade was in digging - but he’d heard many a tale over the years. Hadn’t ever imagined that he would part of one.

He got to his feet and strode back and forth for a while, easing out some of the aches in his muscles. He tried not to look in the direction of that glowing eye, even if he couldn’t see it from where they were stopped he knew it was there.

A silent reminder of their unseen foe.

Without really meaning to, he wondered whether one day children would read about him and Mr Frodo, and gaze up in awe at their parents as they heard about how two unassuming Hobbits from Hobbiton had left their homes one day to save Middle-Earth. About how they had strode into the depth of Mordor and banished evil from the land, defeating Sauron no less, with their courage and conviction.

Sam smiled to himself and sat a little taller as he retook his seat on the rock.



Title: Fading
Fandom: Ripper Street
Rating: PG
Word Count: 163

[Click to continue]He had heard it said before, that when you were shot time slowed down.

Of course Edmund Reid had always considered that to be absolute rubbish, completely unfounded by science or good reason.

Of course, a good detective should have known that conclusions couldn’t be made without thorough testing.

It didn’t hurt, and that surprised him.

He had heard his body, or rather himself, hit the floor and he’d felt the coolness of the wood floor beneath his cheek. But there hadn’t been any pain. He blinked, and even that seemed to take a lifetime, and moved his eyes to seek out his assailant. The there was a voice, a woman’s voice, calling his name.

He closed his eyes.

It was all gone, the deep, unnerving sense that something terrible was going to befall him. It had left his body entirely, replaced by this eerie calm and still.

What more did he have to fear when Death was already here to take him?




Title: Taking a Stand
Fandom: Primeval
Rating: PG-12
Word Count: 484

[Click to continue]“I don’t want that to be our future”, Connor’s bellow echoed through the abandoned warehouse and Abby stopped stock-still, a coldness having gripped her body at the desperation in Connor’s voice, “I won’t let it happen”. She turned back to her friend, he didn’t strike an imposing figure. He lacked the quiet confidence of Cutter, the self-assurance of Stephan, he certainly lacked the cocksure nature of Danny, and he definitely didn’t have Jenny’s class.

No, he had none of that. Connor stood there, drenched and shaking. His hair scraped into locks across his face, dark strands contrasting against the pale, clamminess of his skin. His whole body shivered, he just didn’t have the build to keep himself warm.

Abby took a step towards him, his lips looked like they were turning bluer with each step she took.

“We can’t stop it Connor”

“We haven’t bloody tried!”, he shouted again, and she winced even though she knew it wasn’t aimed at her, “We all just sit back and resign ourselves to the fact the world will end up being ruled by those monsters”.

“How are we going to change the course of history”, Abby lowered her voice as she stepped closer, hoping that Connor would match her tone.

“We’ve done it before, everything we do, everything we say has the potential to change the future”, there were glistens in the corners of Connor’s eyes, markers of the pain he had been holding onto for so long, “We just need to do something”.
Abby was a few steps from him now, and Connor was almost shrinking in front of her, his fight being melted away by her advance.

“We can do something”, Connor whispered, and even as he swayed on his feet and exhaustion threatened to take him, his eyes burned dark with determination and an edge run through his voice. Abby stared back at him and wondered if her eyes mirrored his, or if hers had given way to the hopelessness of their situation.

“Alright Connor…”, she found herself talking, swayed by his words, “You’re right”.

And as she spoke those words, she realised that Connor might not have been one of the great leaders that had headed up their team before, might not command respect as he spoke, but he had the conviction to rally Abby from the brink of giving up, to fight to protect the world from the wasteland they had seen through the anomaly.

And that was probably enough.

On the second day of Christmas

Originally posted by thesoulofchaos at On the second day of Christmas
my true love gave to me, a ridiculously tiny word limit within which to be. (I am going to be way over limit on my essay...)

oh and 2 buried secrets!

Title: Dig a Shallow Grave
Fandom: Dead Island
Rating: PG
Word Count: 275

[Click to continue]They had turned.

He reminded himself of that which each crunch of the shovel, with each clod of mud and sand tossed to the side.
They had tried to kill him.

He went over the events again and again, as he pushed the first body into the hole, wincing as it landed with a sickening thud.

He didn’t know what they were, but they weren’t human.

He threw the second body on top of the first, his vision started to blur with tears and his stomach lurched.
He didn’t have a choice, they would have made him like them.

The last body completed the pile and he pushed dry wood and grass onto the bodies, desperately trying to avoid the soulless eyes that stared back up at him. Accusing him. Blaming him.

If he got out of here he’d tell their families. Tell them that they’d died, been bitten by the creatures, been turned by this godforsaken disease.

He poured petrol on top of the wood and grass.

He’d tell them that he’d seen them turn, seen the life drain from their eyes to be replaced with bloodthirsty rage.
He took out his matches and hesitated.

He just wouldn’t tell them the whole truth. He couldn’t tell them the truth. That he had been forced to kill them. Been forced into a corner, swinging a bat with the desperate rage of a man fighting for his life. That he had hit them again and again until his clothes were drenched in blood the groans had finally stopped.

He struck a handful of matches and threw them into the hole.

He felt the heat on his back as he turned and walked away.



Title: Embrace
Fan dom: Ma lory Towers
Rating: PG-12
Word Count: 512

[Click to continue]Darrell rubbed the back of her neck as she waited, sat on the edge of the bed, for Sally to return from brushing her teeth. She glanced at the bed and wondered whether it would be easier if she got in first, but dismissed it. It was easier to lie as far away from Sally as possible if she knew where Sally was going to lay.

After all it would look jolly odd if she shimmied away from Sally as soon as she got in the bed, and Darrell had no intentions of hurting her friend’s feelings.

It wasn’t Sally’s fault anyway.

They had joked about it the first time they had awoken to find that Darrell had wrapped her arms around Sally and bundled her up in an embrace during the night. Darrell had gone bright red when Sally teased her and offered up a half-asleep apology. Sally certainly seemed to find it entertaining, and when it happened a few more times she didn’t seem to mind. Darrell didn’t mind it so much then, although she cursed her own seemingly inability to stay on her side of the bed.

“Are you alright? You look a little pale”, Sally had returned from the bathroom and shaken Darrell from her thoughts. She offer up a smile and hoped that if it seemed in anyway odd she could pass it off as tiredness.

“Fine, it’s just been a busy day”

“You didn’t have to wait up for me to finish”, Sally went around to her side of the bed and shrugged off her dressing gown. Darrell averted her eyes as she swung herself around and under the duvet,

“I know”

After their good-nights were said and the lamps turned out, Darrell lay staring up into the darkness and let her thoughts wander once more. The trouble had started one day when her night-time embraces weren’t just a source of light-hearted teasing to endure anymore. They were a source of warmth and this peculiar excitement, that spread through Darrell and left her with these thoughts and feelings that she just knew she shouldn’t be having. And the sight of Sally half-awake and barely extracted from her arms in the morning made Darrell’s breath catch in her chest.

Darrell felt stuck, caught between needing to tell Sally that she just couldn’t share a bed anymore and desperately not wanting to give it up. So she put it off, every time Sally stayed at the Rivers’ household, and just endured the sleepless nights which left her close to petulance and with a short-temper during the day, but that were so necessary to ensure that she didn’t end up with her arms wrapped tightly around her friend once more.

As she lay there, painfully aware of just how close Sally was beside her, and how tired she herself was, Darrell squeezed her eyes shut, even though she knew she wouldn’t dare sleep. Tomorrow she would have to tell Sally that they were getting rather too old to be sharing a bed.

Probably.

On the first day of Christmas

Originally posted by thesoulofchaos at On the first day of Christmas
On the first day of Christmas my university gave to me, a five thousand word essay on Inclusion Strategies.

Which is why I am not going to guarantee that I will get anywhere near 78 fics this year - I'm stubborn enough to try though (and I might even manage to not screw up the formatting as much this year) so without further ado...

one extended hand


Title: Outcast
Fandom: Malory Towers
Rating: PG-12
Word Count: 373

[Continue... (click to open)]As Darrell drained the last of her drink and reached for the bottle to refill her glass, and as the first signs of inebriation drifted across her mind, she wondered what had possessed her to be so utterly stupid.

Had she honestly believed that her choices would have been well accepted? That her family would have embraced her with open arms? Perhaps she had, deep down, thought that might happen and in doing so ignored the entirely more likely scenario that she was now dealing with.

She thought bitterly of her departure from her parents’ house, nearly two months past, and her father’s order that she never return. She thought of the whispers and sideways glances that had accompanied any chance meeting with people she knew, who had inexplicably heard about her through other people. Then she thought of the letter from Felicity, that had arrived that morning, filled with rage and resentment from weeks of people prying into their private family business.

Darrell lowered her head, closed her eyes, and she sat for a minute, maybe longer, before the glass was taken from her hands and placed on the table with a gentle clink.

“Here”, a glass of water was pressed into her hands, “drink this”, and Darrell did as she was told. Sally pressed a kiss into Darrell’s hair as she sat beside her and wrapped one arm around her.

“Finish that and then go to bed”, Sally whispered and Darrell nodded. She wondered what would be the thing to push Sally away from her. The other woman already had to put up with everyone assuming that Darrell’s preferences were also her own - and that their closeness was evidence of something more than friendship. Sally’s own relationship was struggling, as her fiance harboured his own suspicions based on half-whispered rumours dating back years.

“I didn’t mean to do any of this”, Darrell mumbled, although she could not say whether the words were meant for herself or for Sally.

“You didn’t do anything”, Sally stood up, held out her hand for Darrell to take and pulled Darrell to her feet; it was only upright that Darrell realised her unsteadiness and was grateful for Sally’s steady hand and presence, “Other people did”.

Play All Videogames #44

XBox 360
Yet again, no new games on XBox as my partner and I have been replaying the LEGO games and mopping up achievements whilsts waiting patiently for LEGO Jurassic World to come down to a more reasonable price.

PS3
I played a little more of God of War but found that I just completely lacked enthusiasm for the game which is never a good sign. Co-op fun on Little Big Planet 2 has kept the PS3 busy though so it hasn't been gathering dust.

Steam/PC
I have been playing...Collapse )

Steam Games played: 245/400 (61.25%)
XBox 360 Games played: 354/430 (82.3%)
PS3 Games played: 8/28 (28.6%)

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Soul of Chaos

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