Epic Proportions: Fractured Minds (1/?)
Title: Fractured Minds (1/?)
Author: gillery
Fandom: AU (A mash-up of all my favorite ladies, and a few of their boy toys)
Starring: Sara, Olivia, Alex, and as many others as I can squeeze in.
Pairings: now that would ruin the surprise!
Event: Epic Proportions
Words: 611
Warnings: violence, femslash, graphic descriptions, lots of other things.
Rating: Very Mature.
Disclaimer: What follows if GRAPHIC and contains multiple people having same sex sex .. well you know what I mean. If you are easily offended or even offendable to any degree then don’t continue to read. All of the characters belong to someone else except for those that are obviously original. Blahhh blahhh legalese blahh…
Author's Notes/Summary: This actually started as a dream I had on the very same night Ralst approved my entry into this event, I’m not saying that cataclysmic email (her approval) sparked it, simply relating the timing. *grin* This is all simply the ramblings of a slightly off kilter mind and since it is an Alternate Universe rules of cannon don’t always apply.
Tags: fractured minds, epic proportions, femslash
Italicized text indicates written communications or thought process.
January 1, 2006
Do you ever look at someone and wonder what their insides look like? Not in a dry clinical operating room way, but in the knife through the skin, slicing, blood in the streets way? I must admit that sometimes I do. Sometimes I will see a beautiful woman walking down the street, her hair gracefully blowing in the wind a laugh on her lips and a smile in her eyes. She hasn’t a care in the world as she brushes past me, and I can’t help but wonder if she knows how close she has just come to absolute evil.
Not the kind used to scare bad children into staying in their beds at night but the kind that makes grown men shake in fear and piss themselves. I wonder if she knows how easy it would be for me to reach out and plunge my knife deeply into her porcelain skin releasing the blood I know is coursing directly beneath it. To cleanly sever her head from her neck with a single stroke. More importantly I wonder if she knows how much restraint it takes for me to resist the urge. I have the knife, I always have the knife, and if not the knife something else that will work.
After all it is the act that truly matters. How it is accomplished isn’t of a concern just as the aftermath isn’t. Once the act is done, the remains are simply waste to be discarded. The murder, and yes I do know it is murder and that it is wrong, is simply what has to happen. Eventually it will regardless of how I resist. Eventually my resolve will weaken. My ability to say no will dissolve and I will find myself there again. Stalking someone. Who and doesn’t matter any more than how. All that matters is that I am there. I am there yet again as I have always known I would be.
You see I am powerless to stop. Powerless to resist what I know is my nature. What everyone will eventually know is my nature. The psychiatrists have a word for it and as many times as I have heard it I should be able to remember but I don’t. Things are like that sometimes. Trivial matters forgotten so space fan be filled with more important matters. There have been hundreds and there will be hundreds more. Names, places, faces they don’t matter. All that matters is the act.
The pen slows and stills. There is more to be written but that will be for another night. The heavy leather cover is closed with a muffled thump and a slight stirring of dust. Strong fingers replace the pen to its holder and close the inkwell before coming to rest on the cover’s crest. A single finger traces its outline as though caressing the lines of their lover’s face. A soft smile skirts across lips and then is gone, hidden again behind a mask of control.
Hefting the large book up, it is replaced in its previous location. It is as it has always been, hidden in plain sight. Should the book ever be found it would of course expose its owner but there is no worry. No one dares visit this portion of the house and the servants barely step inside to clean so the chances of discovery are minimal.
With barely a look back the door to the study opens and then closes, the light shutting off as the occupant leaves. You have to be quick but if you look closely you would swear the shadows radiate from the book versus to it.
Author: gillery
Fandom: AU (A mash-up of all my favorite ladies, and a few of their boy toys)
Starring: Sara, Olivia, Alex, and as many others as I can squeeze in.
Pairings: now that would ruin the surprise!
Event: Epic Proportions
Words: 611
Warnings: violence, femslash, graphic descriptions, lots of other things.
Rating: Very Mature.
Disclaimer: What follows if GRAPHIC and contains multiple people having same sex sex .. well you know what I mean. If you are easily offended or even offendable to any degree then don’t continue to read. All of the characters belong to someone else except for those that are obviously original. Blahhh blahhh legalese blahh…
Author's Notes/Summary: This actually started as a dream I had on the very same night Ralst approved my entry into this event, I’m not saying that cataclysmic email (her approval) sparked it, simply relating the timing. *grin* This is all simply the ramblings of a slightly off kilter mind and since it is an Alternate Universe rules of cannon don’t always apply.
Tags: fractured minds, epic proportions, femslash
Italicized text indicates written communications or thought process.
January 1, 2006
Do you ever look at someone and wonder what their insides look like? Not in a dry clinical operating room way, but in the knife through the skin, slicing, blood in the streets way? I must admit that sometimes I do. Sometimes I will see a beautiful woman walking down the street, her hair gracefully blowing in the wind a laugh on her lips and a smile in her eyes. She hasn’t a care in the world as she brushes past me, and I can’t help but wonder if she knows how close she has just come to absolute evil.
Not the kind used to scare bad children into staying in their beds at night but the kind that makes grown men shake in fear and piss themselves. I wonder if she knows how easy it would be for me to reach out and plunge my knife deeply into her porcelain skin releasing the blood I know is coursing directly beneath it. To cleanly sever her head from her neck with a single stroke. More importantly I wonder if she knows how much restraint it takes for me to resist the urge. I have the knife, I always have the knife, and if not the knife something else that will work.
After all it is the act that truly matters. How it is accomplished isn’t of a concern just as the aftermath isn’t. Once the act is done, the remains are simply waste to be discarded. The murder, and yes I do know it is murder and that it is wrong, is simply what has to happen. Eventually it will regardless of how I resist. Eventually my resolve will weaken. My ability to say no will dissolve and I will find myself there again. Stalking someone. Who and doesn’t matter any more than how. All that matters is that I am there. I am there yet again as I have always known I would be.
You see I am powerless to stop. Powerless to resist what I know is my nature. What everyone will eventually know is my nature. The psychiatrists have a word for it and as many times as I have heard it I should be able to remember but I don’t. Things are like that sometimes. Trivial matters forgotten so space fan be filled with more important matters. There have been hundreds and there will be hundreds more. Names, places, faces they don’t matter. All that matters is the act.
The pen slows and stills. There is more to be written but that will be for another night. The heavy leather cover is closed with a muffled thump and a slight stirring of dust. Strong fingers replace the pen to its holder and close the inkwell before coming to rest on the cover’s crest. A single finger traces its outline as though caressing the lines of their lover’s face. A soft smile skirts across lips and then is gone, hidden again behind a mask of control.
Hefting the large book up, it is replaced in its previous location. It is as it has always been, hidden in plain sight. Should the book ever be found it would of course expose its owner but there is no worry. No one dares visit this portion of the house and the servants barely step inside to clean so the chances of discovery are minimal.
With barely a look back the door to the study opens and then closes, the light shutting off as the occupant leaves. You have to be quick but if you look closely you would swear the shadows radiate from the book versus to it.