Random Fic Fragments
Danny ducked down as a bullet whizzed past his head. He panted with fear, reloading his gun. He was outnumbered at least three to one, but they had him so firmly pinned he couldn’t get a proper look. Gripping his radio, he called for help once more. It had been 15 minutes, and no backup. He was all alone here. There was a searing pain and the radio was shot from his hand. As soon as he perceived the fourth gunman he was on his feet, taking him out before he wheeled on the others, just in time to feel the shock of a bullet catching him in the gut.
He woke up with a yell, clutching his stomach. He was shaking, and it took a few seconds for him to wake up fully, and realise it had all be a nightmare. The only sound inside his small bedroom was his shaking breaths and the faint ticking of his kitchen clock. Danny rubbed the scar on his back, where the bullet had exited. It still ached at night, nerve endings remembering the trauma.
The bullet had gone straight through him, and he’d spent two months in hospital, fighting infection from his perforated intestines. Far worse than the pain though, was the knowledge that he had been left to die. The backup had been waiting around the corner, ignoring his calls for help, and arrived just late enough to make sure he got the message. You aren’t one of us.
Danny had been the only one of his Caste in his graduating academy class. He was what had been known for centuries as ‘Untouchable’. Cursed by their red hair, his people had handled the dead, cleaned the filth off the streets, and in complete contradiction of their title, serviced the sexual needs of married and unmarried men in ways they wouldn’t dare ask of their wives and girlfriends, who were respectable blondes and brunettes. Though new laws had given them equal rights, and the same protections under the law, little had changed. People still avoided them on the street, seeing them as somehow dirty, if not literally then spiritually. Redheads were almost unknown in the NYPD. He knew of only two others, and one of them was a junior lab technician in his own lab, where he was a CSI.
The untouchables weren’t the only caste. At the top of the policing hierarchy were the soldiers, joining the NYPD after their mandatory military service, they dominated the ranks in numbers and dictated the boisterous, competitive and unforgiving culture of the NYPD. Luckily Danny was more than tough enough to deal with them. They were identified by their black hair, and their dominant genes meant they were the only group allowed to marry outside their caste, though it was rarely done.
Second on the ladder were the brown-haired farming caste, who had traditionally made up the merchant class as business owners and tradesmen, as well as agricultural work and labour. After the industrial revolution, they had become as powerful as the soldiers, earning more and demanding a share in the decision making. It was no surprise then that they quickly invaded the professions normally reserved for the soldiers, or the next group, the Religious Caste.
Dating back to the age in Christian Europe when monks and religious scribes were the only people who could read or had access to written knowledge, the religious caste was the keeper of science and research, and they were damn protective of their territory. The joke went that the religious caste was so pale because they never got out of the libraries. Their blond hair and fair skin didnt carry well genetically, so historically they were the most insular of the castes, and since they had allowed Soldiers to skip out on their mandatory military service by enrolling in College, there had been a lot more educated soldiers. Their territory was being threatened.
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(Jung x Freud)
Carl shivered as the older research assistant touched him. "Sigmund… we shouldn't…" He whispered, but didn't pull away as Sigmund Freud kissed him.
"Things out of our control gave us these urges. That is my theory… it's not complete yet - but, someday I'll be published…" Freud said as he unbuttoned Carl Jung's coat, nibbling and caressing the young man's skin with his teeth and lips.
"Not before I am." Jung gasped teasingly.
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(House + Vampire Hunters)
(A conversation between Chase and Cam about their patient.)
“You know when I was a kid, I used to get up after my mum went to bed and watch the late night movies. Vampires and Werewolves were my favorites, but I didn’t think the hunters were real until I moved here.” Chase said conversationally, examining the reference material they had been able to gather on their patient. The case was daunting not for lack of information, but from overload. Their patient had been in hospital at least several times a year, and that was just the official record, who knows what home patch jobs he’d done.
Cameron sorted through the biological samples and slid one out of it’s packaging. She sighed. “If you ask me, it’s an embarrassment that we still have vampire hunters. This isn’t the old west. Men are dying because they decided to make their career the ultimate masculine status symbol.” She finished disdainfully.
“You can’t tell me that you wouldn’t find a hunter attractive.”
Cameron gave him a withering look.
“Oookay…. Maybe not.” He raised his eyebrows. “Sorry I brought it up.” He turned back towards the file, and she began examining the blood sample through the microscope.
After a moment, she switched to another sample, frowning. “…He should be dead.”
“Don’t you think that’s going a little far? I mean-“
“No! Come and look at this!” She said, waving him over urgently.
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(X-Men/Day After Tomorrow)
(This was a post of mine from an X-Men roleplay where we played out a Kurt/Warren/Capt Britain love triangle in a snowbound Day After Tomorrow universe. Warren and Kurt had been [married?], and gotten separated during the disaster, losing all contact for two years. Warren was searching constantly for his partner, while Kurt had become co-leader and spiritual leader to a group of survivors. Warren has just been found, dying out in the snow, and rescued by Kurt's band. )
It looked like a barracks crossed with a refugee camp. The mattresses and beds had been scavenged from the hospital upstairs, and the ones nearest the door were on the floor. Only those considered in need were given beds, and they lay at the far end, the rest slept on mattresses. In the centre there was a small wood heater, but it couldn’t hope to heat the whole room. Heat came from the number of bodies packed into the space, and close friends, family, and lovers slept in the same bed. People quickly lost their fear of closeness when the temperature dropped.
They had made use of the hospital’s privacy screens to separate the beds into family units and vague rooms. People had pinned posters, colored curtains, and photos to them as they made themselves at home. However, the separation was only figurative, privacy was scarce.
Warren was given the recovery bed, which was in a quiet corner of the bedroom and partially hidden by curtains. It was warm and close to the fire, as well as off the ground, which kept the chill from creeping up through the mattress.
Kurt was asleep against him.
(As soon as Warren is awake and they are passionately reunited, Warren starts asking questions like "why do you share a bed with capt britain?" and "Why is Capt Britain such an ass?" and "What do you mean its been a long time, I thought you were dead, things have changed?!?")
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Thats all for now. More later!
He woke up with a yell, clutching his stomach. He was shaking, and it took a few seconds for him to wake up fully, and realise it had all be a nightmare. The only sound inside his small bedroom was his shaking breaths and the faint ticking of his kitchen clock. Danny rubbed the scar on his back, where the bullet had exited. It still ached at night, nerve endings remembering the trauma.
The bullet had gone straight through him, and he’d spent two months in hospital, fighting infection from his perforated intestines. Far worse than the pain though, was the knowledge that he had been left to die. The backup had been waiting around the corner, ignoring his calls for help, and arrived just late enough to make sure he got the message. You aren’t one of us.
Danny had been the only one of his Caste in his graduating academy class. He was what had been known for centuries as ‘Untouchable’. Cursed by their red hair, his people had handled the dead, cleaned the filth off the streets, and in complete contradiction of their title, serviced the sexual needs of married and unmarried men in ways they wouldn’t dare ask of their wives and girlfriends, who were respectable blondes and brunettes. Though new laws had given them equal rights, and the same protections under the law, little had changed. People still avoided them on the street, seeing them as somehow dirty, if not literally then spiritually. Redheads were almost unknown in the NYPD. He knew of only two others, and one of them was a junior lab technician in his own lab, where he was a CSI.
The untouchables weren’t the only caste. At the top of the policing hierarchy were the soldiers, joining the NYPD after their mandatory military service, they dominated the ranks in numbers and dictated the boisterous, competitive and unforgiving culture of the NYPD. Luckily Danny was more than tough enough to deal with them. They were identified by their black hair, and their dominant genes meant they were the only group allowed to marry outside their caste, though it was rarely done.
Second on the ladder were the brown-haired farming caste, who had traditionally made up the merchant class as business owners and tradesmen, as well as agricultural work and labour. After the industrial revolution, they had become as powerful as the soldiers, earning more and demanding a share in the decision making. It was no surprise then that they quickly invaded the professions normally reserved for the soldiers, or the next group, the Religious Caste.
Dating back to the age in Christian Europe when monks and religious scribes were the only people who could read or had access to written knowledge, the religious caste was the keeper of science and research, and they were damn protective of their territory. The joke went that the religious caste was so pale because they never got out of the libraries. Their blond hair and fair skin didnt carry well genetically, so historically they were the most insular of the castes, and since they had allowed Soldiers to skip out on their mandatory military service by enrolling in College, there had been a lot more educated soldiers. Their territory was being threatened.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(Jung x Freud)
Carl shivered as the older research assistant touched him. "Sigmund… we shouldn't…" He whispered, but didn't pull away as Sigmund Freud kissed him.
"Things out of our control gave us these urges. That is my theory… it's not complete yet - but, someday I'll be published…" Freud said as he unbuttoned Carl Jung's coat, nibbling and caressing the young man's skin with his teeth and lips.
"Not before I am." Jung gasped teasingly.
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(House + Vampire Hunters)
(A conversation between Chase and Cam about their patient.)
“You know when I was a kid, I used to get up after my mum went to bed and watch the late night movies. Vampires and Werewolves were my favorites, but I didn’t think the hunters were real until I moved here.” Chase said conversationally, examining the reference material they had been able to gather on their patient. The case was daunting not for lack of information, but from overload. Their patient had been in hospital at least several times a year, and that was just the official record, who knows what home patch jobs he’d done.
Cameron sorted through the biological samples and slid one out of it’s packaging. She sighed. “If you ask me, it’s an embarrassment that we still have vampire hunters. This isn’t the old west. Men are dying because they decided to make their career the ultimate masculine status symbol.” She finished disdainfully.
“You can’t tell me that you wouldn’t find a hunter attractive.”
Cameron gave him a withering look.
“Oookay…. Maybe not.” He raised his eyebrows. “Sorry I brought it up.” He turned back towards the file, and she began examining the blood sample through the microscope.
After a moment, she switched to another sample, frowning. “…He should be dead.”
“Don’t you think that’s going a little far? I mean-“
“No! Come and look at this!” She said, waving him over urgently.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(X-Men/Day After Tomorrow)
(This was a post of mine from an X-Men roleplay where we played out a Kurt/Warren/Capt Britain love triangle in a snowbound Day After Tomorrow universe. Warren and Kurt had been [married?], and gotten separated during the disaster, losing all contact for two years. Warren was searching constantly for his partner, while Kurt had become co-leader and spiritual leader to a group of survivors. Warren has just been found, dying out in the snow, and rescued by Kurt's band. )
It looked like a barracks crossed with a refugee camp. The mattresses and beds had been scavenged from the hospital upstairs, and the ones nearest the door were on the floor. Only those considered in need were given beds, and they lay at the far end, the rest slept on mattresses. In the centre there was a small wood heater, but it couldn’t hope to heat the whole room. Heat came from the number of bodies packed into the space, and close friends, family, and lovers slept in the same bed. People quickly lost their fear of closeness when the temperature dropped.
They had made use of the hospital’s privacy screens to separate the beds into family units and vague rooms. People had pinned posters, colored curtains, and photos to them as they made themselves at home. However, the separation was only figurative, privacy was scarce.
Warren was given the recovery bed, which was in a quiet corner of the bedroom and partially hidden by curtains. It was warm and close to the fire, as well as off the ground, which kept the chill from creeping up through the mattress.
Kurt was asleep against him.
(As soon as Warren is awake and they are passionately reunited, Warren starts asking questions like "why do you share a bed with capt britain?" and "Why is Capt Britain such an ass?" and "What do you mean its been a long time, I thought you were dead, things have changed?!?")
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Thats all for now. More later!