These are all working titles.
Hunger (this was started for zombie challenge just before halloween)
The need is almost constant. An ache that once, centuries ago, crept into my bones, thoughts and heart, and remained.
They believe the day will keep them safe. I cannot help but laugh at their naiveté, at how so very wrong they are. I can smell them, lying in restless sleep. Their dreams an open book before me.
The call of sweet, uncorrupted flesh is too much to resist, and soon I will track them, one by one, until there is nothing left.
Nothing but bones that I will use to decorate my home, there they will remain, part of a timeless memorial to the hunt.
Pilot Ficathon (I hate that I simply cannot figure out a way to write this story.)
“Everything begins with family…”
He speaks of family, yet he is willing to destroy families, whole worlds to protect his own.
There is no pipe.
His hands are empty, but he could imagine that the weight was still there. Length and mass, just right for the immediate task.
The irony was not lost to him that the last time he masqueraded as a Peacekeeper; he’d also used a pipe to kill. The nurse was just lucky.
He had a reason then. ‘The virus made me do it.’
The dog ate my homework.
Same difference. It was only an excuse, the blood was there.
Stay Awake Fic (this one is actually by catherinebruce and myself. It was started to help keep her awake during her shift.)
He had to keep moving, stay busy. Distraction was the only way to keep his mind his own. The smooth bumps of the ball against his hand, the concentration of chess against himself and a specter. All was necessary to stay himself.
If he let himself go, allowed his concentration to wane, he could see himself doing things he would not otherwise do. Fire pulse blasts against a Luxan's chest. Snap a smooth Sebacean neck with his hands. Force himself on a Nebari. And when he was there is that state, it all felt good, felt right, and sometimes he didn't know if he could come back or not or even if he wanted to.
Then he would hear his name, either spoken in a rough grumble or worried alto and he would come back to himself, snapped back faster than a rubber band strung too tight.
Buddy fic (this one I'm actually almost finished with.)
“I’d like another room.”
“Anything wrong with the one currently occupied. If there is I will try and correct.”
“No, I’ll keep that one, but I want an additional room,” he jerks his head toward her, “For the girl.”
“Ah. If you’d like,” he sneers, and continues, “There are better than her, cleaner - and less likely to steal you and this establishment blind.”
D’Argo doesn’t take his eyes from hers, and says quietly. “Take the key from him, and wait for me beside the lift, I’ll only be a microt while I finish up here.”
She doesn’t follow his instructions exactly, her mother said that’s a bad habit that she will outgrow as she gets older. Instead she stops, peeking around the corner to watch as the Luxan wraps his hand around the owner’s as the grilmik is taking the currency.
“What you said – about the girl. I don’t like it,” his hand tightens and the other man’s eyes widen, “I also don’t like the idea that you condone this type of business under your roof.”