Perfectly Gruesome Possibility (100crackfics story)
Here is my 100crackfics table
Title: Perfectly Gruesome Possibility
Author: entropy_house
Fandom: Blakes 7
Claim: Kerr Avon
Word Count: 471
Prompt: I'd rather not say now.
Rating and Warnings: There's some slashy aspects.
Synopsis: If I tell you the synopsis, I'd have to kill you.
Perfectly Gruesome Possibility
NO! Avon thought desperately, mind frantic under the outward calm of his sardonic grin as he settled astride Blake, oh, how I wish, I wish, astride Blake's corpse, to protect it from the profane touch of troopers.
Oh, God that I don't believe in, how I wish this were all a dream. How I wish I wasn't going to die so pointlessly here. God! How I wish I hadn't killed Blake. Make it all go away! Make it all not have been! And Avon began shooting at troopers blindly.
Pain answered as they shot back; his whole body convulsed in agonized shock. I'm dying. At last it will be over.
A vast voice entered his mind. It sounded like a chorus, Blake and all the others, all the ones he'd never dared call friend in life. Join us. Join us. Join US.
YES! Avon's mind opened like a corpse-flower, a rare blossoming eagerly attended by the public, albeit with handkerchiefs over their noses. Oh, my friends, I will join you.
Wonderful! The chorus broke up into individual voices. Avon felt a prick at his neck. Blake's mind-voice giggled, Not that sort of prick, my love.
Avon's eyes flew open, and he looked around wildly. All his friends were here, all dressed in gleaming white clothes and smiling angelically at him.
I'm supposed to go to hell
It was Vila's turn to giggle in his mind. You're not dead, Kerr.
Avon stared at Vila in shock. Vila patted his hand consolingly, and then removed an IV tube that had been stuck in Avon's wrist. Avon was wearing white, too. The whole room was white. Soolin and Tarrant helped him sit up. Cally was standing at the foot of the bed, beaming at him as if she'd invented him. You are cured! she rejoiced in a mental voice like crystal chimes.
It made Avon's teeth ache. He whimpered mentally, while keeping his face expressionless. Awwww, it's all right, the massed mental chorus sang at him. He cringed back amongst the crisp, white sheets and the newly fluffed pillow.
Now that you are no longer deaf and dumb, you will be cloned. Cally thought triumphantly. Dozens of Avons will be teamed with us, seeking justice and victory against the Federation!
Yes! Down with the Federation! Down with sex! Down with capitalism! Blake's mind-voice insinuated itself into Avon's hind-brain, along with Gan, Vila, Tarrant, Del Grant, and a host of others. We will live in the perfect asexual commune like brother monks!
Avon scrambled out of bed and ran, bleating like a sheep, until he collided head-first with a padded wall. He flopped onto his back, and looked up at Blake, blearily, smiling in the sudden silence. "I can't hear you."
Blake sighed and picked Avon up. Back to the drawing board, he told Cally.
(I had a choice of prompts this might have matched. I was sorely tempted to go with ' Sock Puppet Theater', but 'Phobia', 'Split Personality', 'Amnesia', and 'Reality Show' all seemed possible. In the end I went with the obvious, 'Telepathy'.)
Title: Perfectly Gruesome Possibility
Author: entropy_house
Fandom: Blakes 7
Claim: Kerr Avon
Word Count: 471
Prompt: I'd rather not say now.
Rating and Warnings: There's some slashy aspects.
Synopsis: If I tell you the synopsis, I'd have to kill you.
Perfectly Gruesome Possibility
NO! Avon thought desperately, mind frantic under the outward calm of his sardonic grin as he settled astride Blake, oh, how I wish, I wish, astride Blake's corpse, to protect it from the profane touch of troopers.
Oh, God that I don't believe in, how I wish this were all a dream. How I wish I wasn't going to die so pointlessly here. God! How I wish I hadn't killed Blake. Make it all go away! Make it all not have been! And Avon began shooting at troopers blindly.
Pain answered as they shot back; his whole body convulsed in agonized shock. I'm dying. At last it will be over.
A vast voice entered his mind. It sounded like a chorus, Blake and all the others, all the ones he'd never dared call friend in life. Join us. Join us. Join US.
YES! Avon's mind opened like a corpse-flower, a rare blossoming eagerly attended by the public, albeit with handkerchiefs over their noses. Oh, my friends, I will join you.
Wonderful! The chorus broke up into individual voices. Avon felt a prick at his neck. Blake's mind-voice giggled, Not that sort of prick, my love.
Avon's eyes flew open, and he looked around wildly. All his friends were here, all dressed in gleaming white clothes and smiling angelically at him.
I'm supposed to go to hell
It was Vila's turn to giggle in his mind. You're not dead, Kerr.
Avon stared at Vila in shock. Vila patted his hand consolingly, and then removed an IV tube that had been stuck in Avon's wrist. Avon was wearing white, too. The whole room was white. Soolin and Tarrant helped him sit up. Cally was standing at the foot of the bed, beaming at him as if she'd invented him. You are cured! she rejoiced in a mental voice like crystal chimes.
It made Avon's teeth ache. He whimpered mentally, while keeping his face expressionless. Awwww, it's all right, the massed mental chorus sang at him. He cringed back amongst the crisp, white sheets and the newly fluffed pillow.
Now that you are no longer deaf and dumb, you will be cloned. Cally thought triumphantly. Dozens of Avons will be teamed with us, seeking justice and victory against the Federation!
Yes! Down with the Federation! Down with sex! Down with capitalism! Blake's mind-voice insinuated itself into Avon's hind-brain, along with Gan, Vila, Tarrant, Del Grant, and a host of others. We will live in the perfect asexual commune like brother monks!
Avon scrambled out of bed and ran, bleating like a sheep, until he collided head-first with a padded wall. He flopped onto his back, and looked up at Blake, blearily, smiling in the sudden silence. "I can't hear you."
Blake sighed and picked Avon up. Back to the drawing board, he told Cally.
(I had a choice of prompts this might have matched. I was sorely tempted to go with ' Sock Puppet Theater', but 'Phobia', 'Split Personality', 'Amnesia', and 'Reality Show' all seemed possible. In the end I went with the obvious, 'Telepathy'.)