Sorry the stories haven’t been published for a few days! My computer is giving me serious problems, and so is my internet. I’ll catch up with the posting as soon as possible.
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27th January, 2014
Based off the blog of: folly-a-deux.tumblr.com
They don’t talk often these days, unless it’s about a case. They just - well, drive, and sleep in motel rooms, and share silent dinners at crappy diners.
Sam has to bite his tongue every time he sees a flap of a tan trenchcoat out of the corner of his eyes. Dean has to stop himself from speaking every time he hears a familiar, deep voice.
The first time is happens to Sam, he whips his head around and says, “Did you see-?” but cuts himself off at the look on Dean’s face.
Not a week later, the elder brother is staring off into the distance, muttering, “I could have sworn…” and Sam gets a sinking feeling in his stomach.
They don’t, under any circumstances, talk about Cas, or how they see him in crowds and hear his voice in the distance.
26th January, 2014
Based off the blog of: gigiiscrazy.tumblr.com
Abigail looks down at the knife in her hands, then up to Hannibal. He gives her an encouraging smile, and Abigail looks down at the unconscious man below her.
He’s very handsome.
She looks at the knife again, and thinks that it’s handsome, too.
Thinks that the man would look much more handsome with streaks of red covering his body. Thinks that she could love him, like this, at her mercy and doing this for her. Thinks that if he were awake, there would be a beautiful spark of fear in his eyes and he would struggle against the gag and the ropes.
She presses the blunt edge of the knife to the skin of his neck - she thinks she might scar him so they match.
"I love you," she whispers, and moves the knife - cuts across his neck smoothly, watching the red well up and pour. She cuts deep, like her father did to her. She thinks she might have it perfectly accurate - the depth, the length, the angle.
He wakes up, and his eyes meet hers. His body convulses, and his head whips around - to Hannibal, to Abigail again. She was right. The fear was so beautiful in Will Graham’s eyes. “I love you,” she says, and moves the knife again.
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25th January, 2014
Fandom: Frozen (2013)
Based off the blog of: sonofabitchfeels.tumblr.com
Elsa smiles at Anna over dinner. It’s a private affair - Kristoff is out in the mountains, and the courtiers have been dismissed for the night - and it’s their first dinner alone together in a very long time.
"Kristoff," Elsa broaches, amused by the pink tinge that graces Anna’s cheeks at the mere mention of the boy. "You’ve known him for more than one day, haven’t you?"
Anna splutters around her drink. “Elsa!” she cries. “We’re not getting married.”
"Not yet," the queen says playfully. "But maybe soon."
Anna’s cheeks go even more pink, but she doesn’t correct her sister.
Elsa feels her heart swell, and, far from the first time, she mourns the childhood she couldn’t share with Anna.
"I love you," Elsa says quietly, because she loves her sister more than anything, and there were so many years when all she wanted to do was hold her and tell her that.
"I love you, too, Elsa." And Anna grins, and Elsa is incredibly grateful for her sister’s big heart.
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24th January, 2014
Based off the blog of: wordsareagirlsbestfriend.tumblr.com
Alana walks into Abigail’s room, shooting a smile at a nurse walking past. She’s hesitant - she always is these days, facing Abigail - but she tries not to show it. Abigail smiles at her from the her bed, already dressed for the day with a simple blue scarf around her neck.
And her smile is what gets Alana every time. She looks so young and innocent, and Alana can’t help but rush to the bed and kiss her gently.
Shame and guilt churn in her stomach. This is disgusting. Entirely unethical and who knows what it’s doing to Abigail.
"You’re worrying," Abigail says when Alana steps away to collapse heavily in the chair beside her bed. "You shouldn’t worry."
"What am I doing?" Alana asks herself. Abigail shrugs, smiling. At this point, their mornings are a well-rehearsed routine.
"It’s fine," Abigail says as she picks up the book she had been reading. "Take your time. I’ll be right here."
Alana shoots her a half-hearted glare. “I’m risking everything. I’m risking my whole career.”
"Gee," Abigail says without taking her eyes off the pages. "If I’m not worth it…"
Alana sits up. “You are!” Then, she pauses. “That’s the problem.”
"The problem is I’m worth risking your career over?"
Abigail puts the book down and stands up. She leans over and kisses Alana firmly. “I love you,” she says.
"I love you, too," Alana murmurs.
"Then stop worrying. Now, are you going to give me therapy or what?"
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Sorry this is a day late - I had internet problems.
23rd January, 2014
Based off the blog of: juliasficrecs.tumblr.com
Michael closes his eyes, and sighs. He can hear Adam in the distance - fighting with his brothers, and it hurts, oh it hurts, to see the same hatred and resentment he once felt in the eyes of the boy.
Michael knows this is good for Adam. He’s letting out his inner thoughts and grudges, the ones that grew and burned in him and kept him up in the middle of the night, consuming him. After this, he will probably be able to have real, calm conversations with Sam and Dean. He’ll be able to get to know them.
That doesn’t stop it hurting.
There’s a flutter of wings, and Lucifer is at his side. Michael smiles. In the last year, he and Lucifer have reconnected. They have grown, and seen how childish they were. Michael is glad they didn’t end the world and kill each other. If they had, Lucifer would not be placing his hand on his shoulder in a show of comfort.
"Your boyfriend’s feisty," the devil says lightly.
Michael laughs. It’s true. “Your boyfriend is a pacifist,” he says.They both pause and listen to Sam trying to calm Adam and Dean down. There’s the sound of glass breaking, and they raise their eyebrows.
"You didn’t correct me when I called him your boyfriend."
"No, because you refuse to listen to me when I say otherwise."
Michael is suddenly caught with a sense of deep anguish. Adam’s emotions rush over him, and he sighs. Lucifer gives him a knowing look.
"You care about him deeply."
"Of course I do," Michael says. "I love him."
"He loves you, of course," Lucifer says.
"Maybe," is all Michael mutters before standing to check on the Winchesters.
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Please excuse the sloppiness of this. It was written very quickly.
22nd January, 2014
Based off the blog of: morningstarfellforsam.tumblr.com
It happens on a Sunday afternoon. He’s in a secluded part of Heaven when he does it, far away from his brothers and sisters. It’s peaceful, in this part of Heaven – the paradise of an elderly woman who simply enjoyed lone walks in the woods behind her house.
It is just off the woman’s preferred walking path where he finds the clearing that will be perfect for this moment.
Lucifer stops, sighs, and smiles. “Of course you’d find me.”
Sam looks terrified. “Lucifer,” he says, and steps forward to wrap his arms around his brother. “You don’t have to do this. Please.”
“Of course I do,” Lucifer tells him, stepping away. “You’re going to.”
Sam shuffles awkwardly. “That’s not the same. You’re an archangel.”
“An archangel who does not want this to continue.”
“So you’re going to Fall?” Sam demands. “The Morning Star Falling like a common angel? You’re above this.”
Lucifer scoffs. “Oh, Sam.” He cups Sam’s face and kisses him once. “I’m not going to just Fall. I’m going to wage war.”
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21st January, 2014
Based off the blog of: thatgirltheyknow.tumblr.com (Yes, this is my own blog but I can’t load the post to find a blog. Sorry!)
His house is quiet and still when he wakes from the nightmare. The dogs are asleep and the silence threatens to be broken at any moment. Will refuses to open his eyes.
"Will," comes the voice, the smooth, beautiful voice that makes him tense in fear.
"Go away," Will whispers, because if he doesn’t, the illusion of defense will be lost. He can’t admit that he’s doomed. He can’t admit that he’s given up.
A warm hand rests on his arm. He flinches violently, jerks back and his eyes open without his permission.
He’s there, like he always his, sitting on the edge of Will’s bed neat and pristine and non-threatening.
Will’s personal demon, come to corrupt his soul.
Will gets out of bed, but he’s still shaking from the dream - death and blood and pain - and he falls to his knees. He lets his head fall forward and he starts praying.
The demon laughs softly. “My dear Will, you should know by now that your holy words will not help you.” To prove his point, he runs walks behind Will and runs his hands through the human’s hair like he’s a dog. The demon thinks he likes Will Graham like this, helpless at his feet.
Will’s prayer dissolves into a feeble muttering of “Lord protect me, Lord protect me, Lord protect me” and, eventually, fades away all together. His Lord is not listening, not if the demon is still there, patting him like an animal.
The demon offers Will a hand - Will takes it, because at least his he stands he’ll regain some level of control. When he’s on his feet, he tries to move away, tries to get back into bed so he can drift off to sleep and face human monsters instead of hellish ones. The demon, however, doesn’t let go of his hand. Will is forced to stand inches away from him, and he can smell the expensive cologne and the smokes of Hell.
"Why can’t you just leave me alone?" he whispers.
The demon looks at him almost sympathetically, and cups his face with his free hand. Will, tired and cold, can’t help but lean into the warmth. “My Will,” the demon says. “You know I will not give up until your soul is mine.”
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20th January, 2014
Based off the blog of: atlanteanmermaid.tumblr.com
The victim is found with half his blood missing, and, before the body is moved, no visible point from which it was extracted. Jack scoffs at the suggestion of a vampire wannabe, and Will wants to, too, before he closes his eyes and feels the hunger behind the killing.
The next body is sloppier, less planned and more desperate. The woman’s throat slit open and the blood from the wound taken – probably for later.
“He’s holding himself back from something,” Will tells Hannibal in their next session. “Someone. He’s… hungry… for someone specific.”
Hannibal inclines his head. “So he does drink the blood? Is his thirst a true thirst?”
Will looks away and laughs, shortly and without humour. “He thinks it is,” is all he says.
Will is woken up at night by dreams of a warm body pressed against his and sharp teeth at his neck.
"He’s leading up to something."
"What is he leading up to?" Hannibal asks.
A month later, the killings have slowed down to an almost stop. The cresendo is coming, and at night Will stares at his ceiling and feels it pressing down on him from all sides. Pressure is building and building, around him and within, and he need a release from the ghost of the killer’s hunger-
- so he gives in to his own. He presses Hannibal against the door to his office and kisses him roughly, with too many teeth and too much tongue. The doctor places his hands on his waist and pulls him closer, not even hesitating, and Will melts, feels the relief wash over him in waves.
Hannibal has to stop himself from smiling.
He is hungry, and tonight, finally, he will feast.
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19th January, 2014
Based off the blog of: frayedpatches.tumblr.com
Tony has been in plenty of situations he needs to talk himself out of. Dozens. Hundreds, even. He’s practically the expert of talking himself out of trouble- so, really, this time shouldn’t be too different. He just needs to smile, lay the charm on thick, make them think that he’s guilty and wont’ do it again and they came out on top.
Then, he realises he’s in the company of some of the only people in the world who aren’t at all effected by his charm. Then, he panics.
“Um,” he says, and that must be some kind of signal, because they all start talking at once.
Steve starts ranting about “Loki? Really? What the hell is wrong with you? What if he killed us all in our sleep?” and Clint is saying something along the same lines, but with more curses. Bruce is questioning Tony’s sanity, and Thor is shouting over the top of them all about his brother. Natasha occasionally says a word to back up Clint, but is otherwise deadly silent. She’s the scariest of the lot of them.
All in all, it’s not very pleasant company to be in naked in bed.
Tony’s pretty sure he can hear Loki laughing in the distance.
18th January, 2014
Fandom: original work
Based off the blog of: im-thekindestdemon.tumblr.com
The girl is scared. She tries not to show it, but I can tell- from the way her eyes dart around, from the stiff set to her shoulders. She’s terrified, but she’s trying to overcome it. Brave. I’ve always admired bravery.
She’s never seen one of us. Of course, she’s heard of us, but that’s not the same as seeing one us, facing one of us- being locked in a room with one of us, with nowhere to go, no-one to turn to.
I feel almost sorry for her. I remember what it was like, back when I was human, being locked in a room like this one, with a demon in front of me. I’d thought it would never happen to me, that I could escape the selection. It was a reality I pushed out of my mind.
I would bet any amount of money that the girl pushed the selection out of her mind, too. Most people did.
“What do you want?” the girl asks. She’s still young, naïve, and she doesn’t know the details.
I smile kindly at her. I feel sorry for her. This is an unpleasant process – unpleasant for her, unpleasant for me, but in the end, it’s worth it. It’s worth it for her, shredding humanity and gaining power she can’t even imagine.
“Your soul,” I tell her honesly.
It’s worth it for me, because in the end, I get to devour her soul, and for a moment, I am human again – and it’s the best feeling in the world.
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17th January, 2014
Fandom: Skulduggery Pleasant
Based off the blog of: inall-my-dreams-i-drown.tumblr.com
I really want to write more Skulduggery Pleasant fanfiction for this project.
Valkyrie lies in bed – her bed, in her family’s home – and listens to the rain falling hard on the roof. Occasionally, the sky outside will light up with lightning and be followed by a crack of thunder. She rolls over and pulls her blankets up over her more. She can’t get warm.
There is a tap on her window, so quiet she barely hears it. It comes a second time, and she looks over her shoulder. A skeletal silhouette is perched on her windowsill.
She gets up and opens the window, and Skulduggery slides in, as though climbing through her window in the middle of the night during a thunderstorm is normal.
“Hello,” he says, sitting down at her desk. “I have a job for us.”
Valkyrie gets back under her covers but doesn’t lie down. She glares at him. “I’m sleeping. It’s storming and we just finished a case twelve hours ago. Can’t it wait?”
Skulduggery sighs quietly. “I know we just finished a case. And you weren’t sleeping, I could tell even through the window. There’s not actually a job, I just came to keep you company. I thought maybe a nice relaxing drive in the Bentley would be nice.”
Valkyrie is quiet for a full minute, looking at Skulduggery while he (presumably) looks back.
“I’ve been sleeping in my bed at your house more than I’ve been sleeping in this bed,” she says eventually. “I’m terrified of sleeping here. I’m worried I’m going to get my family hurt.”
“That is understandable,” says Skulduggery.
“I think a ride in the Bentley would be nice.”
Somehow, Skulduggery ends up driving her to his house. She doesn’t tell him to take her back – after all, she had her reflection pretending to sleep in her bed, and she is more at ease in the passenger seat of the Bentley than she is at home.
She falls asleep on Skulduggery’s sofa, with her on a pillow in his lap. He runs his fingers through her hair and talks quietly about nonsense as she falls asleep.
It’s not the first time this has happened.
When she wakes up in the morning, Valkyrie is greeted by a coffee on the coffee table and Skulduggery pressing his teeth to her forehead in place of a kiss.
“You’re amazing,” she mumbles, reaching for her coffee. “What did I do to deserve you?”
“I ask myself that question every day.”
“What you did to deserve me.”
“No, what you did to deserve me.”
Valkyrie throws her head back and laughs. “I love you, you idiot.”
Skulduggery leans down to press his teeth to her lips. “I love you, too.”
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16th January, 2014
Based off the blog of: oh-golly-gosh.tumblr.com
Since birth, Michael and Lucifer are Michael-and-Lucifer. One word, because they are one soul and two bodies.
When their father leaves, Michael crumbles, then rises, the leader of the family who would do anything to protect his younger siblings. Gabriel and Raphael look at him with unease and Anna and Castiel look at him with awe.
When their father leaves, Lucifer crumbles, then rises, bitter and angry. He drinks and fucks and smokes his feelings away, and stops talking to his siblings, even Michael. Gabriel and Raphael look at him with irritation, and Anna and Castiel look at him with fear.
That’s when they’re sixteen.
Two weeks after Michael and Lucifer kiss for the first time, in the dark of their bedroom where if they can’t see each other it’s not real.
Two years after Lucifer realises he’s in love with Michael, and one year after Michael realises he’s in love with Lucifer.
Their father leaves, and six months later, Lucifer runs away, and Michael crumbles again, and his time, he struggles to find the strength to pick himself back up.
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15th January, 2014
Fandom: Sherlock (Supernatural fusion)
Based off the blog of: katy-the-platypus.tumblr.com
Sherlock Holmes is saved.
Sherlock looks at the hole he crawled out of and frowns. “Well, that was tedious.”
His mind comes up with a list of explanations for his ressurection.
He can’t think of anything else. He doesn’t like the feeling of not knowing.
There’s a hand print of his shoulder. His scars are gone. It should be impossible without - magic?
Mycroft greets him with a look of mild surprise.
"Of course you couldn’t stay dead."
"It’s good to see you, too. Come in. You must tell me how you did it."
"Would you believe me if I said I didn’t know?"
"Not for a minute, I’m afraid."
Sherlock finds Molly in a motel room with a woman. She looks at Sherlock like she wants to eat him.
Molly looks like she’s about to faint, then hugs Sherlock like she never wants to let go.
The woman watches. “Are you two together? I do couples, you know. Help them spice things up again.”
Molly blushes furiously and glares at the woman, who smiles.
"I’m her partner," Sherlock tells the woman, who nods, like she understands.
"Interesting," he mutters as the woman leaves. Molly frowns at him, obviously embarassed.
Then she attacks him with a knife, and Mycroft has to step in.
Sherlock pretends that he doesn’t know what Molly is doing with that woman - the demon, of course, how could he have not seen it? He pretends that it doesn’t make his stomach churn with worry. He pretends that everything is fine, now that he’s alive again.
He also pretends that he doesn’t remember the last forty years.
"I’m the one who hauled you out of perdition. You could be grateful."
"Your brother is alive."
"Who are you?"
"They call me John."
"I’d guessed. What are you?"
"I’m an angel of the Lord."
"There is no such thing."
"You have no faith, Sherlock. It’s one of your problems. A minor one, but still a problem."
Wings, shadows, on the wall as lightning flashes out side. Sherlock stares, and his mind races. There is a knife on the floor that should have killed this creature. None of the sigils stopped it. Angel wings. Command of elements? Lightning. Ressurection. Lazarus. Hell. Knives and screaming. Feeling pain and causing pain.
"That noise. In the petrol station, and the motel. Was that you?"
"Yes. I thought you would be able to hear me, but I was wrong."
"You don’t think you deserve to be saved."
"No, I don’t. Why did you do it? What could an angel want from me?"
"I rescued you because God commanded it. We have work for you, Sherlock."
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14th January, 2014
Based off the blog of: quinncedes.tumblr.com
Rachel shivered, and curled up into her blankets. The Slytherin dorms were always colder than the rest of the castle, and she was worried that if she cast a warning charm this tired, she’d set her bed on fire.
Across the room, Santana mumbled in her sleep, tossing and turning. Through the dim light of a lamp above the window, Rachel could see her dark hair sprawled across her face and falling into her open mouth. Santana never slept with her curtains closed, because she didn’t feel the need for privacy.
"Rachel?" a voice asked from bed next to Rachel’s. "Are you okay?"
Rachel looked over at Quinn, who was lying on her side and looking at her friend with sleepy eyes. Rachel blushed a bit, and shrugged.
"I’m just cold."
Quinn looked at her for a few moments, then nodded, and sat up. She pulled the blankets off herself. “You can come sleep with me if you like. I’d offer to cast a warming charm but I think we all remember what happened last time I tried.”
Rachel stared at her. “What? No, I mean, thank you, but I can’t go into your personal space like that, Quinn. It’s fine, really.”
Quinn rolled her eyes. “I offered, Rachel. Come on.”
Rachel bit her lip, but slid out of bed. She sat on the edge of Quinn’s bed, staring at the space Quinn made by moving over. The blonde sighed in annoyance, and wrapped an arm around Rachel’s waist and pulled her down (the squeal that came out of Rachel’s mouth made Santana curse tiredly). Quinn adjusted them into a position so they were spooning, with Quinn the big spoon, her arm still wrapped around Rachel’s waist and her cheek pressed into the bare skin on Rachel’s back that was exposed by her too-light pajamas.
Rachel was suddenly feeling so much warmer.
Quinn’s body shook silently. “Relax, would you? At least I didn’t suggest we sleep naked to preserve body warmth.”
A small, surprised squeak slipped past Rachel’s lips as the blonde’s hand slid under her shirt to press warmly against her stomach.
"Though," Quinn continued, pressing a kiss to the back of Rachel’s neck. "Maybe next time."
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