On the eleventh day of Christmas
Jan. 5th, 2012 06:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tallulahgsmy true love sent to me
eleven great frustrations
[Title] Ascension
[Fandom] Malory Towers/Death Note
[Rating] PG for violence
[Notes/Summary] Catherine Grey has always been Kira's greatest ally, but even she gets annoyed sometimes. No link to the earlier crossover of these fandoms I did ^^
"All the exits are guarded," L said, settling himself more comfortably on the pew. "It's over, Light. I'm sorry."
Light stood on the steps up to the altar and his eyes darted around the church as if he didn't believe there wasn't some way to escape. A little further back, next to the altar itself, stood the overtly helpful girl L had met on his arrival in the village. Catherine Grey. A selfless, good person taking care of her sick mother. He really should have earmarked her as a suspect earlier.
She swallowed and then she stepped forward, a shaky smile on her face.
"There... there must be some mistake," she said. "Neither Light nor I would ever do what you're accusing us of. Light was a little... frightened just now, he didn't mean what he said..."
L was tempted to debate the point, but then he saw Light's eyes blaze with fury and decided to let him respond first.
He was not disappointed.
"Shut up!" Light snarled at her. "Don't start talking for me like you know anything! This is all your fault. If you hadn't been so useless, none of this would have happened!"
The girl's mouth fell open a little. She swallowed, tried to pick up her smile again. "Light... you don't mean that. We're making the world better, together... remember?"
"I was making the world better," Light said, coldly. "You were just following me like a little dog, desperate to make yourself useful to somebody."
She went white.
"What?" Light snapped. He was trembling a little; L noted with interest how much the certainty of his own defeat was stripping his poise away. "You thought you were equal to me? Kira, the god of the new world, and his blessed saint Catherine? Every time I spoke to you, I could see you polishing your halo. I've got no room for those who only want to make themselves look good. You failed me. Just like everyone else did."
He turned away from her.
"All right, L," he said. "You think you've got your proof, but you -"
That was when Catherine smashed his skull open with one of the large silver candlesticks on the altar. Light toppled onto the steps and lay still, blood starting to pool onto the red and black tiles of the floor.
L stared at Catherine, somewhat taken aback, and she stared back at him. The smile was back in place - a little shaky, but there.
"Some people are just horrible," she said. Her voice was different, now - calm, almost dreamy. "I always tried not to mind, but sometimes, one just gets a little bit upset, don't you think?"
[Title] Substitute
[Fandom] Death Note
[Rating] PG for slight sexy implications
[Notes/Summary] Misa's sorry she didn't get to know Shingo Midou better.
It was a source of enduring frustration to Misa that Shingo Midou hadn't been the Yotsuba Kira. Like, she'd even thought how much he looked like Raito. If she were going to bat her eyelashes at some creepy businessman, dodge her bodyguard to go on a date with him, and pretty much promise her body in return for him doing what she said, then the guy should at least be halfway cute.
Okay, okay, she had done it to help Raito, and she and Raito are together, and so it doesn't matter. But still. Instead of Higuchi's wolflike face, rough hands, and tendency to shout in confined spaces, she could've had Midou's eyes meeting hers in a fancy restaurant; him taking her hand as they walked back to some classy car (and another thing, a red sportscar was cool, but it wasn't exactly subtle); him gently putting his arms round her and whispering how wonderful it is that someone so beautiful is the Second Kira, how grateful he is that she's willing to help him. And she'd stroke his hair and marvel at the golden lights in it; ease his glasses off and then, if no one was looking, if it would help Raito...
It's just such a shame. All Kiras should be as beautiful as her and Raito. Of course, Higuchi ended up dead. So perhaps it was for the best... pretty people should be the survivors, too, right? Yeah, that's probably it. She still thinks about Midou sometimes, when Raito's away and she's bored. And if the thoughts become downright naughty sometimes, well, he does look like Raito, so it doesn't matter, right? And everyone needs the fantasy that they could run away with a rich businessman if their boyfriend is just that bit too annoying. No, she's glad Midou wasn't Kira. This way, she's still got his potential.
[Title] Ten Percent
[Fandom] Malory Towers/Torchwood
[Rating] G
[Notes/Summary] Set during the events of Children of Earth. Darrell isn't going to stand for it. Requested by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
anbyrobanby.
The first years were being surprisingly quiet and sensible. Still, Darrell couldn't blame them. Every single one of them had stopped dead, had announced we are coming. Back. She wondered what it had felt like to them, whether they'd known they were doing it. She'd suspected it was a prank at first. Something that that little beast June would think up. Until they'd heard the news on the radio.
"All right," Bill called from the front, where she and Thunder were leading the group. "Everyone ready?" She looked surprisingly calm for someone about to encourage the entire first year population of Malory Towers to play truant. But then, it didn't involve peril to horses, so she probably didn't care. Sally, wrapping her coat more tightly around herself, didn't look calm. She was dead white, her teeth set, her breath coming into little clouds as she hurried to open the paddock door. She was the one who'd suggested this. Simply said, Well, I'm not standing for it, stood up, and walked out of the room. She was worried about her own little sister, Darrell knew.
Felicity was in a huddle of other girls - as Darrell looked over, she caught her eye, forced a smile. Darrell made herself smile back. Be careful, she mouthed. Felicity nodded. Only a sister could tell that she was scared, that she really wanted a hug. June probably wasn't scared at all.
Darrell looked round, and looked again, and then she hurried over to Hilda, the first form's head-girl, and hissed, "Where's June?"
There was no sign of the annoying first year.
"I don't believe this," Darrell said, more to herself than anyone else, even though Sally had noticed that something was up and was hurrying through the crowd towards her. "It would be her, wouldn't it?"
She looked at her watch. Five minutes to ten. They needed to get away from the school now. If they were spotted, the soldiers would have cars, trucks, they'd outrun them. If June had just for once not considered herself too good for everyone else...
"Listen," she said to Sally, "you go on, you and Bill. Take the others and hide out like we planned. I'm going to find June and I'll follow you."
Sally stared at her.
"What if you don't get away in time?" she said, her voice choked out of her.
"Then we'll hide in the school. It's a big place, after all! But you - you need to go now."
Sally took a deep breath, but then she nodded, clutched quickly at Darrell's hand. "Please be careful."
"I assure you, I'm not going to give June any more reasons to feel superior!"
Sally didn't quite manage to laugh, but her mouth did twitch in a half-smile before she turned and hurried back to the group. Darrell didn't stay to watch them file out into the sunlight. Instead she headed through the small side door, round the back of the walls, and then back into the main building. Her heart was thumping, and she had to fight not to clench her fists or run. She needed to stay calm and she needed to look calm. If she panicked, or lost her temper, things would go wrong very quickly.
June, she was sure, would put on a veneer of calmness, of insouciance. If there was one person Darrell would be happy to throw to the army, it would be June. She supposed that this was fate's idea of a joke. Certainly Alicia would have agreed with her that it was, in a way, quite funny.
[Title] Knife Edge
[Fandom] Battle Royale/Merlin
[Rating] PG
[Notes/Summary] Morgana encounters a stranger in the woods.
Morgana has learnt a lot since she left Camelot.
There are the basics. How to draw water from a well. How to cook, how to spot the mushrooms that won't kill you. How to kill a rat and how to find dry firewood.
There is the magic. What exactly she is capable of, how much power she can draw from within herself, exactly how much of the world she can remake in her image. And what she's not capable of. Who she cannot save, or who she has to sacrifice. And what she cannot stop.
These are things she can learn on her own. But some things you must be taught. She had thought that her desperation for vengeance was pure and steely like the blade of a sword. She had thought that it would not cloud her judgement, only strengthen it. She had thought she was ruthless, through and through.
And then the boy had come to her hut. Kazuo. He smelt of blood and his skin was like cold water. He asked for shelter as if it made no difference to him whether she allowed it. As if he would simply walk on, as if he would walk all night if he had to.
Morgana had been amused by his blankness, his poise. So many people refused to admit that they were liars. She liked to see someone who presented a true face. Or maybe just a blank face to be drawn on by whoever it looked at. She wanted to see if she could crack his facade, if there was anything there to crack. So many people broke so easily.
Kazuo didn't break. Not when she put her hand on his chest, not when she reached up under his tunic and felt all the scars. Not when their mouths met and she pulled him closer.
Not later, when she sent him flying across the glade and he managed to land on his feet - no one had ever managed to do that! - and then threw the knife that he'd pilfered from the cottage at her. Not when she set the trees around him alight or when she split the ground open beneath his feet. Not when he evaded her every spell and they found themselves lying in the bracken, bodies pressed together, he holding the knife to her throat, her following suit with shards of mirror she'd called to her with her powers.
Morgana thinks that she would have killed him. Murdering a stranger would have solidified her coldness. (Sometimes, she still fears that there's something she's overlooked, some weakness. Emrys.) Perhaps Kazuo simply didn't want her to gain that strength. With a sudden quick movement, he'd disarmed her of her weapon, sent her sprawling. Then before she could get to her feet, he'd got up and walked away into the darkness. Morgana cursed him, but on the other hand, someone so strong would have to leave her powerless and frustrated. It would only be weakness otherwise.
[Title] Lone Traveller
[Fandom] Merlin/Torchwood
[Rating] PG
[Notes/Summary] Morgana encounters another stranger in the woods... but this one seems somewhat indestructible. Requested byanbyrobanby, though I didn't quite fulfil the prompt.
She is positive she killed him.
She sent a blast of power towards him and he flew backwards and hit the nearest tree, and she saw the angle his neck was at. She couldn't afford to be seen; she was in a hurry. Anyone finding him would assume he'd fallen from a horse, or been attacked by bandits. She walked on and left him lying in the leaves.
When she came back, later, her bag full of shrivelled herbs and roots, the body had gone. The body had gone, but there were no drag marks, no disturbed earth. The leaves lay in a flat soggy mass, unchanged from when she had passed by earlier. As if the corpse just got up and walked away. Which, she knows, can happen, but why would someone go to the trouble of reanimating a dead traveller?
He's waiting for her, back at the cottage. She stops, standing still, and stares coldly at him. He doesn't look like someone out for revenge. He looks like someone enjoying the autumn air and waiting to meet a friend. When he sees her, he waves. "Hey! I was looking for some directions." He has an odd, drawling accent, like nothing she's heard before.
"You shouldn't be walking around the forest by yourself," she answers, keeping her voice clipped. "Not when you've had a head injury."
"Oh, don't worry about that. My head's pretty hard." He grins - his teeth are white, she can't decide if he's mocking her or if he's angered under the smile. "And besides, I'm not alone. Janet's just off looking for mushrooms."
She's not frightened to hear he has a companion. They didn't protect him earlier, did they? What unnerves her is that this man's not dead. He doesn't seem to be a simulacrum, a puppet of someone else's will.
Perhaps he is simply a master of healing magic. In which case, she might be able to learn something from him. So she smiles, bobs a little curtsey.
"My apologies for earlier," she says. "You must understand... a woman walking alone... I was scared."
"Hey, I'm used to it. People just panic when they see me. I think it's the charm." Another smile. "So, someone as gorgeous as you lives all alone out here? You must get pretty lonely."
"I have visitors." She walks a little closer. "I know a lot of people round these parts. You're a stranger here, aren't you?"
"I'm a stranger everywhere. It's better that way. You get to meet the cutest girls." Again that grin, and he bends to take her hand, kiss it. She is used to men being enraptured by her beauty. But she knows, too, about control. She knows that she doesn't have it here, not yet.
"Well, please let me offer you some refreshments," she says, and smiles back at him. "It seems you don't hurt easily, so I imagine you must become quite hungry."
"Hey, I welcome anything you've got to offer."
She smiles, wondering what would happen if she slit his throat. He smiles back, as if he knows just what she's thinking. Something snuffles and growls in the undergrowth.
[Title] Maturity
[Rating] G
[Fandom] Death Note
[Notes/Summary] Aizawa has always found Matsuda annoying.
Aizawa has always found Matsuda the most frustrating aspect of being part of the Kira task force. All right, it's not Matsuda's fault the two of them are on the smallest team imaginable and thus Matsuda's childish exuberance is no longer diluted by more sensible colleagues. But still. You would think that being on that small group, working on the same case for five years, making absolutely no progress, and seeing more people die every day you failed to make a breakthrough, would bring anyone back down to earth.
None of it does. It's the discovery of who Raito Yagami really is that turns Matsuda silent, withdrawn. He comes back from it soon enough, of course. People like him always do. But Aizawa wishes the cheerfulness was still natural, wishes it didn't involve alcohol so much. Then he wonders what the hell is wrong with him - isn't this what he wished for?
[Title] Hershey Bars
[Fandom] Death Note
[Rating] PG-13 for language
[Notes/Summary] Mello has views on confectionary.
"You know what pisses me off most about L.A.?" Mello says, pacing the room. One hand hovers over the gun in his holster; the other hangs at his side as if it's waiting for something. The mob bosses and the lipsticked girls watch him nervously. The night is hot, and the the lights flicker.
"The traffic?" Kal Snydar suggests.
"The waitresses dreamin' of making it big?" Rod Ross says, like he's bored with the conversation already.
"The weather," Glen puts forward. "In England, it rains all the time, right?"
Mello looks round, slitty-eyed.
"The fucking chocolate," he says. "Hershey bars taste like sick. Someone needs to go out and get me something with actual fucking cocoa in it, or I swear to god people will die."
"You know," Rod says, as a lackey scurries out to the nearest store, "if anyone else were this picky, I'd be wonderin' what the hell they're doing in this joint. I'd figure they ain't got the balls to hack it here."
Mello smiles - a grin like a lightning flash. His hand doesn't close on his gun, but for a moment it looks like it might do. "But I'm not everyone else. Am I?"
And Rod doesn't have an answer to that.
[Title] Bad Reputation
[Fandom] Battle Royale
[Rating] PG
[Notes/Summary] Mitsuru/Izumi fic. Mitsuru's not sure he's happy about this set-up.
There are a lot of things that frustrate Mitsuru about this situation.
Like, that every time he walks round to meet Izumi at her house - every time - he gets the side-eye from someone walking past or driving down the street. He isn't carrying any kind of weapon and hell, he doesn't even style his hair all gangland now because she doesn't like it. And still people look at him like he's about to pitch a brick through the nearest window.
And that when they go out on dates, either they go somewhere cheap, or she pays. Mitsuru isn't a fan of dropping a ton of cash on girls, but he doesn't like feeling like some - some kept guy or something. It's one thing not to feel like your girl is milking you for all you got, but it's another to know you can never do anything special for her because she eats in posh restaurants as a treat every Friday night and fries at the local McDonalds really doesn't cut it for her. (She doesn't stick her nose up at it when he chooses the location, sure. He just wants to be able to impress her. Or impress people like her family, or the rest of Class B, who think she's nuts for dating someone so obviously made of trouble.)
And that when they talk about things they remember, hers are always when we went skiing in Hokkaido or that time I spilt lemonade on the new carpet or when Dad was running in the council elections and everyone laughed at me, while his are more like that time Mum walked out on us for a weekend or when I accidentally set fire to the table and they didn't even notice because they were pissed or when Dad was in jail and I didn't get it, I believed it when Mum said he was on holiday. Both of them seem equally ashamed about the difference.
And yet, for some reason, he puts up with it, just so sometimes he can walk along the street holding hands with her, or kiss her on her doorstep, or make out with her in the empty playground on a sunny afternoon. He never thought he was so good at putting up with shit. Maybe he's growing up after all.
[Title] Anger Management
[Fandom] Battle Royale
[Rating] PG; mention of self-harm
[Notes/Summary] Sugimura can't understand Takako's actions.
"But why?" Sugimura asks, and he looks so miserable that Takako almost hates him too, for making her feel so guilty. "Why would you want to hurt yourself?"
She hates him, too, for phrasing it like that, making her sound vulnerable, sick, miserable. So she raises her chin and says, as loftily as possible, "It really isn't much of a big deal."
"You're cutting your wrists on a daily basis, Taka, I think that sounds like a pretty big deal to me -"
She has whirled round to glare at him, and he stops, but he still looks miserable, and she wonders what expression she really has on her face.
"Things make me angry," she says when she can trust her voice to stay steady. "It wouldn't be a good idea to constantly kick holes in the wall or slap people. This is how I deal with it."
He goes silent, of course; taps his nose. She's angry already, so she snaps at him, "Well? Do you have a better idea? You never lose your temper, so don't pretend you understand!" Then she's sorry. Sugi understands more than a lot of people give him credit for. She just gets annoyed that he doesn't realise it.
But all he says is, "No, I don't," and she knows that if he's lying, she won't get him to admit it any time soon. His sadness guilt-trips her into at least trying to stop her habit, and if she subverts the anger into running, well, being the school's track star is better than having to wear long sleeves all summer. She wonders, sometimes, though, if he's got his own coping mechanisms, and if she'll ever find them out.
[Title] Twisted
[Fandom] Akira
[Rating] PG
[Notes/Summary] Tetsuo thinks it's not meant to be like this.
Sometimes Tetsuo wonders if there's something wrong with him. Your best friend isn't meant to be the number one frustration in your life, is he?
Feeling like he's a lunatic only makes him more pissed off. He bets Kaneda never worries about shit like this.
[Title] Law Enforcement
[Fandom] Jet Set Radio
[Rating] PG
[Notes/Summary] Onishima considers crime prevention methods.
"Oh, sure," Onishima said, taking another gulp of coffee, "oh, sure, they're not the worst out there. I understand that. I understand they're not actually killing anyone." His tone conveyed that this was more than a little disappointing. "But for god's sake, why don't any of the crime prevention methods work on them? We got great results with the tasers for the pickpockets. And hell, the burglary rate is practically nil now - yeah, yeah, I know a few of the homeowners kicked up a fuss about the anti-tank weaponry, but they had insurance, and the overall message worked. You steal other people's stuff, and everything explodes. Simple. Understandable. Effective. But the rudies? I'm at a loss. I am actually at a loss."
"Well... they're doing it for the adrenaline rush, aren't they?" his colleague said, tentatively. "Maybe the tanks and the choppers just give them more... street cred, or whatever it is."
"Yeah, you're probably right." Onishima drained his coffee cup. "Maybe the Rokkaku Group will be able to sponsor some kind of electronic tracking system for Tokyo-to's youth." He laughed, rustily. "Tagging for teenagers. Get it? Tagging?"
"I... yes, sir." The other man sighed, and wondered if he could put in for a transfer.
eleven great frustrations
[Title] Ascension
[Fandom] Malory Towers/Death Note
[Rating] PG for violence
[Notes/Summary] Catherine Grey has always been Kira's greatest ally, but even she gets annoyed sometimes. No link to the earlier crossover of these fandoms I did ^^
"All the exits are guarded," L said, settling himself more comfortably on the pew. "It's over, Light. I'm sorry."
Light stood on the steps up to the altar and his eyes darted around the church as if he didn't believe there wasn't some way to escape. A little further back, next to the altar itself, stood the overtly helpful girl L had met on his arrival in the village. Catherine Grey. A selfless, good person taking care of her sick mother. He really should have earmarked her as a suspect earlier.
She swallowed and then she stepped forward, a shaky smile on her face.
"There... there must be some mistake," she said. "Neither Light nor I would ever do what you're accusing us of. Light was a little... frightened just now, he didn't mean what he said..."
L was tempted to debate the point, but then he saw Light's eyes blaze with fury and decided to let him respond first.
He was not disappointed.
"Shut up!" Light snarled at her. "Don't start talking for me like you know anything! This is all your fault. If you hadn't been so useless, none of this would have happened!"
The girl's mouth fell open a little. She swallowed, tried to pick up her smile again. "Light... you don't mean that. We're making the world better, together... remember?"
"I was making the world better," Light said, coldly. "You were just following me like a little dog, desperate to make yourself useful to somebody."
She went white.
"What?" Light snapped. He was trembling a little; L noted with interest how much the certainty of his own defeat was stripping his poise away. "You thought you were equal to me? Kira, the god of the new world, and his blessed saint Catherine? Every time I spoke to you, I could see you polishing your halo. I've got no room for those who only want to make themselves look good. You failed me. Just like everyone else did."
He turned away from her.
"All right, L," he said. "You think you've got your proof, but you -"
That was when Catherine smashed his skull open with one of the large silver candlesticks on the altar. Light toppled onto the steps and lay still, blood starting to pool onto the red and black tiles of the floor.
L stared at Catherine, somewhat taken aback, and she stared back at him. The smile was back in place - a little shaky, but there.
"Some people are just horrible," she said. Her voice was different, now - calm, almost dreamy. "I always tried not to mind, but sometimes, one just gets a little bit upset, don't you think?"
[Title] Substitute
[Fandom] Death Note
[Rating] PG for slight sexy implications
[Notes/Summary] Misa's sorry she didn't get to know Shingo Midou better.
It was a source of enduring frustration to Misa that Shingo Midou hadn't been the Yotsuba Kira. Like, she'd even thought how much he looked like Raito. If she were going to bat her eyelashes at some creepy businessman, dodge her bodyguard to go on a date with him, and pretty much promise her body in return for him doing what she said, then the guy should at least be halfway cute.
Okay, okay, she had done it to help Raito, and she and Raito are together, and so it doesn't matter. But still. Instead of Higuchi's wolflike face, rough hands, and tendency to shout in confined spaces, she could've had Midou's eyes meeting hers in a fancy restaurant; him taking her hand as they walked back to some classy car (and another thing, a red sportscar was cool, but it wasn't exactly subtle); him gently putting his arms round her and whispering how wonderful it is that someone so beautiful is the Second Kira, how grateful he is that she's willing to help him. And she'd stroke his hair and marvel at the golden lights in it; ease his glasses off and then, if no one was looking, if it would help Raito...
It's just such a shame. All Kiras should be as beautiful as her and Raito. Of course, Higuchi ended up dead. So perhaps it was for the best... pretty people should be the survivors, too, right? Yeah, that's probably it. She still thinks about Midou sometimes, when Raito's away and she's bored. And if the thoughts become downright naughty sometimes, well, he does look like Raito, so it doesn't matter, right? And everyone needs the fantasy that they could run away with a rich businessman if their boyfriend is just that bit too annoying. No, she's glad Midou wasn't Kira. This way, she's still got his potential.
[Title] Ten Percent
[Fandom] Malory Towers/Torchwood
[Rating] G
[Notes/Summary] Set during the events of Children of Earth. Darrell isn't going to stand for it. Requested by
anbyrobanby.The first years were being surprisingly quiet and sensible. Still, Darrell couldn't blame them. Every single one of them had stopped dead, had announced we are coming. Back. She wondered what it had felt like to them, whether they'd known they were doing it. She'd suspected it was a prank at first. Something that that little beast June would think up. Until they'd heard the news on the radio.
"All right," Bill called from the front, where she and Thunder were leading the group. "Everyone ready?" She looked surprisingly calm for someone about to encourage the entire first year population of Malory Towers to play truant. But then, it didn't involve peril to horses, so she probably didn't care. Sally, wrapping her coat more tightly around herself, didn't look calm. She was dead white, her teeth set, her breath coming into little clouds as she hurried to open the paddock door. She was the one who'd suggested this. Simply said, Well, I'm not standing for it, stood up, and walked out of the room. She was worried about her own little sister, Darrell knew.
Felicity was in a huddle of other girls - as Darrell looked over, she caught her eye, forced a smile. Darrell made herself smile back. Be careful, she mouthed. Felicity nodded. Only a sister could tell that she was scared, that she really wanted a hug. June probably wasn't scared at all.
Darrell looked round, and looked again, and then she hurried over to Hilda, the first form's head-girl, and hissed, "Where's June?"
There was no sign of the annoying first year.
"I don't believe this," Darrell said, more to herself than anyone else, even though Sally had noticed that something was up and was hurrying through the crowd towards her. "It would be her, wouldn't it?"
She looked at her watch. Five minutes to ten. They needed to get away from the school now. If they were spotted, the soldiers would have cars, trucks, they'd outrun them. If June had just for once not considered herself too good for everyone else...
"Listen," she said to Sally, "you go on, you and Bill. Take the others and hide out like we planned. I'm going to find June and I'll follow you."
Sally stared at her.
"What if you don't get away in time?" she said, her voice choked out of her.
"Then we'll hide in the school. It's a big place, after all! But you - you need to go now."
Sally took a deep breath, but then she nodded, clutched quickly at Darrell's hand. "Please be careful."
"I assure you, I'm not going to give June any more reasons to feel superior!"
Sally didn't quite manage to laugh, but her mouth did twitch in a half-smile before she turned and hurried back to the group. Darrell didn't stay to watch them file out into the sunlight. Instead she headed through the small side door, round the back of the walls, and then back into the main building. Her heart was thumping, and she had to fight not to clench her fists or run. She needed to stay calm and she needed to look calm. If she panicked, or lost her temper, things would go wrong very quickly.
June, she was sure, would put on a veneer of calmness, of insouciance. If there was one person Darrell would be happy to throw to the army, it would be June. She supposed that this was fate's idea of a joke. Certainly Alicia would have agreed with her that it was, in a way, quite funny.
[Title] Knife Edge
[Fandom] Battle Royale/Merlin
[Rating] PG
[Notes/Summary] Morgana encounters a stranger in the woods.
Morgana has learnt a lot since she left Camelot.
There are the basics. How to draw water from a well. How to cook, how to spot the mushrooms that won't kill you. How to kill a rat and how to find dry firewood.
There is the magic. What exactly she is capable of, how much power she can draw from within herself, exactly how much of the world she can remake in her image. And what she's not capable of. Who she cannot save, or who she has to sacrifice. And what she cannot stop.
These are things she can learn on her own. But some things you must be taught. She had thought that her desperation for vengeance was pure and steely like the blade of a sword. She had thought that it would not cloud her judgement, only strengthen it. She had thought she was ruthless, through and through.
And then the boy had come to her hut. Kazuo. He smelt of blood and his skin was like cold water. He asked for shelter as if it made no difference to him whether she allowed it. As if he would simply walk on, as if he would walk all night if he had to.
Morgana had been amused by his blankness, his poise. So many people refused to admit that they were liars. She liked to see someone who presented a true face. Or maybe just a blank face to be drawn on by whoever it looked at. She wanted to see if she could crack his facade, if there was anything there to crack. So many people broke so easily.
Kazuo didn't break. Not when she put her hand on his chest, not when she reached up under his tunic and felt all the scars. Not when their mouths met and she pulled him closer.
Not later, when she sent him flying across the glade and he managed to land on his feet - no one had ever managed to do that! - and then threw the knife that he'd pilfered from the cottage at her. Not when she set the trees around him alight or when she split the ground open beneath his feet. Not when he evaded her every spell and they found themselves lying in the bracken, bodies pressed together, he holding the knife to her throat, her following suit with shards of mirror she'd called to her with her powers.
Morgana thinks that she would have killed him. Murdering a stranger would have solidified her coldness. (Sometimes, she still fears that there's something she's overlooked, some weakness. Emrys.) Perhaps Kazuo simply didn't want her to gain that strength. With a sudden quick movement, he'd disarmed her of her weapon, sent her sprawling. Then before she could get to her feet, he'd got up and walked away into the darkness. Morgana cursed him, but on the other hand, someone so strong would have to leave her powerless and frustrated. It would only be weakness otherwise.
[Title] Lone Traveller
[Fandom] Merlin/Torchwood
[Rating] PG
[Notes/Summary] Morgana encounters another stranger in the woods... but this one seems somewhat indestructible. Requested by
anbyrobanby, though I didn't quite fulfil the prompt.She is positive she killed him.
She sent a blast of power towards him and he flew backwards and hit the nearest tree, and she saw the angle his neck was at. She couldn't afford to be seen; she was in a hurry. Anyone finding him would assume he'd fallen from a horse, or been attacked by bandits. She walked on and left him lying in the leaves.
When she came back, later, her bag full of shrivelled herbs and roots, the body had gone. The body had gone, but there were no drag marks, no disturbed earth. The leaves lay in a flat soggy mass, unchanged from when she had passed by earlier. As if the corpse just got up and walked away. Which, she knows, can happen, but why would someone go to the trouble of reanimating a dead traveller?
He's waiting for her, back at the cottage. She stops, standing still, and stares coldly at him. He doesn't look like someone out for revenge. He looks like someone enjoying the autumn air and waiting to meet a friend. When he sees her, he waves. "Hey! I was looking for some directions." He has an odd, drawling accent, like nothing she's heard before.
"You shouldn't be walking around the forest by yourself," she answers, keeping her voice clipped. "Not when you've had a head injury."
"Oh, don't worry about that. My head's pretty hard." He grins - his teeth are white, she can't decide if he's mocking her or if he's angered under the smile. "And besides, I'm not alone. Janet's just off looking for mushrooms."
She's not frightened to hear he has a companion. They didn't protect him earlier, did they? What unnerves her is that this man's not dead. He doesn't seem to be a simulacrum, a puppet of someone else's will.
Perhaps he is simply a master of healing magic. In which case, she might be able to learn something from him. So she smiles, bobs a little curtsey.
"My apologies for earlier," she says. "You must understand... a woman walking alone... I was scared."
"Hey, I'm used to it. People just panic when they see me. I think it's the charm." Another smile. "So, someone as gorgeous as you lives all alone out here? You must get pretty lonely."
"I have visitors." She walks a little closer. "I know a lot of people round these parts. You're a stranger here, aren't you?"
"I'm a stranger everywhere. It's better that way. You get to meet the cutest girls." Again that grin, and he bends to take her hand, kiss it. She is used to men being enraptured by her beauty. But she knows, too, about control. She knows that she doesn't have it here, not yet.
"Well, please let me offer you some refreshments," she says, and smiles back at him. "It seems you don't hurt easily, so I imagine you must become quite hungry."
"Hey, I welcome anything you've got to offer."
She smiles, wondering what would happen if she slit his throat. He smiles back, as if he knows just what she's thinking. Something snuffles and growls in the undergrowth.
[Title] Maturity
[Rating] G
[Fandom] Death Note
[Notes/Summary] Aizawa has always found Matsuda annoying.
Aizawa has always found Matsuda the most frustrating aspect of being part of the Kira task force. All right, it's not Matsuda's fault the two of them are on the smallest team imaginable and thus Matsuda's childish exuberance is no longer diluted by more sensible colleagues. But still. You would think that being on that small group, working on the same case for five years, making absolutely no progress, and seeing more people die every day you failed to make a breakthrough, would bring anyone back down to earth.
None of it does. It's the discovery of who Raito Yagami really is that turns Matsuda silent, withdrawn. He comes back from it soon enough, of course. People like him always do. But Aizawa wishes the cheerfulness was still natural, wishes it didn't involve alcohol so much. Then he wonders what the hell is wrong with him - isn't this what he wished for?
[Title] Hershey Bars
[Fandom] Death Note
[Rating] PG-13 for language
[Notes/Summary] Mello has views on confectionary.
"You know what pisses me off most about L.A.?" Mello says, pacing the room. One hand hovers over the gun in his holster; the other hangs at his side as if it's waiting for something. The mob bosses and the lipsticked girls watch him nervously. The night is hot, and the the lights flicker.
"The traffic?" Kal Snydar suggests.
"The waitresses dreamin' of making it big?" Rod Ross says, like he's bored with the conversation already.
"The weather," Glen puts forward. "In England, it rains all the time, right?"
Mello looks round, slitty-eyed.
"The fucking chocolate," he says. "Hershey bars taste like sick. Someone needs to go out and get me something with actual fucking cocoa in it, or I swear to god people will die."
"You know," Rod says, as a lackey scurries out to the nearest store, "if anyone else were this picky, I'd be wonderin' what the hell they're doing in this joint. I'd figure they ain't got the balls to hack it here."
Mello smiles - a grin like a lightning flash. His hand doesn't close on his gun, but for a moment it looks like it might do. "But I'm not everyone else. Am I?"
And Rod doesn't have an answer to that.
[Title] Bad Reputation
[Fandom] Battle Royale
[Rating] PG
[Notes/Summary] Mitsuru/Izumi fic. Mitsuru's not sure he's happy about this set-up.
There are a lot of things that frustrate Mitsuru about this situation.
Like, that every time he walks round to meet Izumi at her house - every time - he gets the side-eye from someone walking past or driving down the street. He isn't carrying any kind of weapon and hell, he doesn't even style his hair all gangland now because she doesn't like it. And still people look at him like he's about to pitch a brick through the nearest window.
And that when they go out on dates, either they go somewhere cheap, or she pays. Mitsuru isn't a fan of dropping a ton of cash on girls, but he doesn't like feeling like some - some kept guy or something. It's one thing not to feel like your girl is milking you for all you got, but it's another to know you can never do anything special for her because she eats in posh restaurants as a treat every Friday night and fries at the local McDonalds really doesn't cut it for her. (She doesn't stick her nose up at it when he chooses the location, sure. He just wants to be able to impress her. Or impress people like her family, or the rest of Class B, who think she's nuts for dating someone so obviously made of trouble.)
And that when they talk about things they remember, hers are always when we went skiing in Hokkaido or that time I spilt lemonade on the new carpet or when Dad was running in the council elections and everyone laughed at me, while his are more like that time Mum walked out on us for a weekend or when I accidentally set fire to the table and they didn't even notice because they were pissed or when Dad was in jail and I didn't get it, I believed it when Mum said he was on holiday. Both of them seem equally ashamed about the difference.
And yet, for some reason, he puts up with it, just so sometimes he can walk along the street holding hands with her, or kiss her on her doorstep, or make out with her in the empty playground on a sunny afternoon. He never thought he was so good at putting up with shit. Maybe he's growing up after all.
[Title] Anger Management
[Fandom] Battle Royale
[Rating] PG; mention of self-harm
[Notes/Summary] Sugimura can't understand Takako's actions.
"But why?" Sugimura asks, and he looks so miserable that Takako almost hates him too, for making her feel so guilty. "Why would you want to hurt yourself?"
She hates him, too, for phrasing it like that, making her sound vulnerable, sick, miserable. So she raises her chin and says, as loftily as possible, "It really isn't much of a big deal."
"You're cutting your wrists on a daily basis, Taka, I think that sounds like a pretty big deal to me -"
She has whirled round to glare at him, and he stops, but he still looks miserable, and she wonders what expression she really has on her face.
"Things make me angry," she says when she can trust her voice to stay steady. "It wouldn't be a good idea to constantly kick holes in the wall or slap people. This is how I deal with it."
He goes silent, of course; taps his nose. She's angry already, so she snaps at him, "Well? Do you have a better idea? You never lose your temper, so don't pretend you understand!" Then she's sorry. Sugi understands more than a lot of people give him credit for. She just gets annoyed that he doesn't realise it.
But all he says is, "No, I don't," and she knows that if he's lying, she won't get him to admit it any time soon. His sadness guilt-trips her into at least trying to stop her habit, and if she subverts the anger into running, well, being the school's track star is better than having to wear long sleeves all summer. She wonders, sometimes, though, if he's got his own coping mechanisms, and if she'll ever find them out.
[Title] Twisted
[Fandom] Akira
[Rating] PG
[Notes/Summary] Tetsuo thinks it's not meant to be like this.
Sometimes Tetsuo wonders if there's something wrong with him. Your best friend isn't meant to be the number one frustration in your life, is he?
Feeling like he's a lunatic only makes him more pissed off. He bets Kaneda never worries about shit like this.
[Title] Law Enforcement
[Fandom] Jet Set Radio
[Rating] PG
[Notes/Summary] Onishima considers crime prevention methods.
"Oh, sure," Onishima said, taking another gulp of coffee, "oh, sure, they're not the worst out there. I understand that. I understand they're not actually killing anyone." His tone conveyed that this was more than a little disappointing. "But for god's sake, why don't any of the crime prevention methods work on them? We got great results with the tasers for the pickpockets. And hell, the burglary rate is practically nil now - yeah, yeah, I know a few of the homeowners kicked up a fuss about the anti-tank weaponry, but they had insurance, and the overall message worked. You steal other people's stuff, and everything explodes. Simple. Understandable. Effective. But the rudies? I'm at a loss. I am actually at a loss."
"Well... they're doing it for the adrenaline rush, aren't they?" his colleague said, tentatively. "Maybe the tanks and the choppers just give them more... street cred, or whatever it is."
"Yeah, you're probably right." Onishima drained his coffee cup. "Maybe the Rokkaku Group will be able to sponsor some kind of electronic tracking system for Tokyo-to's youth." He laughed, rustily. "Tagging for teenagers. Get it? Tagging?"
"I... yes, sir." The other man sighed, and wondered if he could put in for a transfer.
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Date: 2012-01-05 09:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-06 05:47 pm (UTC)Onishima is the coolest police officer IN THE WORLD. TRUFAX.