Insanity & Inkblots [War/Pepper] [Good Omens]
Title :: Insanity
Prompt :: “Therapy” [femslash100]
Pairing :: War/Pepper
Rating :: PG-13
Wordcount :: 100
Summary :: And this, Pepper mused, was precisely why she refused to go to therapy, no matter how fucked in the head she was.
I think I have suppressed memories from my childhood, my best friend is potentially the Antichrist, and, oh, I’m sleeping with another woman who I suspect is a Horseman of the Apocalypse.
And this, Pepper mused, was precisely why she refused to go to therapy, no matter how fucked in the head she was. If she’d already survived an almost-Armageddon, that was enough excitement for one lifetime -- surely she didn’t need adventures in a mental ward on top of that.
Besides, she decided as she watched her own blood collecting under the other woman’s sharpened nails, insanity could be…fun.
Title :: Inkblots
Prompt :: “Therapy” [femslash100]
Pairing :: War/Pepper
Rating :: PG-13
Wordcount :: 100
Summary :: Their bed was becoming a study in psychoanalysis.
Their bed was becoming a study in psychoanalysis.
(With emphasis on the psycho.)
Pepper lay quiet, movements stifled by afterglow and an aching that went far deeper than that. Her fingertips were the only thing that moved, apart from the shuddering rise and fall of her chest, tracing aimlessly over the new patterns and splotches on the sheets.
See, I don’t need therapy, she thought with a sudden, sharp, frantic giggle. It’s like we have our own inkblot test, right here at home.
And she refused to accept their most obvious interpretation:
This time, maybe I’m the one who’s lost.
Prompt :: “Therapy” [femslash100]
Pairing :: War/Pepper
Rating :: PG-13
Wordcount :: 100
Summary :: And this, Pepper mused, was precisely why she refused to go to therapy, no matter how fucked in the head she was.
I think I have suppressed memories from my childhood, my best friend is potentially the Antichrist, and, oh, I’m sleeping with another woman who I suspect is a Horseman of the Apocalypse.
And this, Pepper mused, was precisely why she refused to go to therapy, no matter how fucked in the head she was. If she’d already survived an almost-Armageddon, that was enough excitement for one lifetime -- surely she didn’t need adventures in a mental ward on top of that.
Besides, she decided as she watched her own blood collecting under the other woman’s sharpened nails, insanity could be…fun.
Title :: Inkblots
Prompt :: “Therapy” [femslash100]
Pairing :: War/Pepper
Rating :: PG-13
Wordcount :: 100
Summary :: Their bed was becoming a study in psychoanalysis.
Their bed was becoming a study in psychoanalysis.
(With emphasis on the psycho.)
Pepper lay quiet, movements stifled by afterglow and an aching that went far deeper than that. Her fingertips were the only thing that moved, apart from the shuddering rise and fall of her chest, tracing aimlessly over the new patterns and splotches on the sheets.
See, I don’t need therapy, she thought with a sudden, sharp, frantic giggle. It’s like we have our own inkblot test, right here at home.
And she refused to accept their most obvious interpretation:
This time, maybe I’m the one who’s lost.