Blending In
Aug. 24th, 2026 05:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madimpossibledreamerMain Points:
Buffy/Torchwood Crossover (Time After Time)
Chapter Summary: Time travel is not always to a good place.
Word Count: 625
Rating: Teen
Warning: Execution, torture (not in detail), fascism
The crowd was murmuring restlessly for their execution.
Strangely, they were easily silenced by a wave from one of the armored men standing on the platform. Most bloodthirsty crowds out for the deaths of innocents, in Xan’s experience, were not that easily cowed.
Just what sort of world had he stepped into?
“These traitors,” what looked like the leader boomed, “...dared to think they could bring about the destruction of peace. A peace brought to you by the New World Order. They shall be punished as they deserve.”
He raised something, some sort of device with clamps, and secured it to Jaz’s chest. There was a roar from the crowd, and three other clamps were fastened to the chests of the other executionees.
The Captain tried to blend in, but it was a lot more difficult than in his days in the Time Agency. He’d been able to ignore his feelings, on the few occasions he’d even had any, so much easier, but then, he’d been a different man then. A worse man. How could he cheer for the death of his friends?
Then it got worse. The clamps squeezed suddenly, and he had to look away, hearing the rip and crunch on the chests. The onlookers crowded forward, faces upturned at the spray of blood, like some would welcome rain.
Xan did his best to not be sick and hoped that everyone was paying too much attention to the execution and little to none on him.
As expected, it was too much to hope for.
“This one!” Someone shoved him forward in front of the crowd. “He’s a rebel! Look at how he reacted to the deserved deaths of known rebels!”
The mood turned even uglier, and he staggered a little at the roughness of the shove and the absolute hatred he could feel from the mob. He’d caught emotions off of other people before—a variety, too—but rarely had he felt something this ugly. The hard, vicious wall was terrifying. He braced himself for a painful death. With this crowd, he wasn’t arguing his way out of this one.
“Bring him forth! He’ll have to be questioned to learn of any more traitorous plots!” Rough hands grabbed him and pulled him onto the platform. He’d talked himself out of worse situations before, so why wasn’t he able to do it now?
Because however charismatic he was, these people didn’t want to listen to him. It was impossible to sway people like this.
His wandering thoughts were cut off by a sharp prick in his neck. Shortly after, he felt consciousness fading.
Buffy/Torchwood Crossover (Time After Time)
Chapter Summary: Time travel is not always to a good place.
Word Count: 625
Rating: Teen
Warning: Execution, torture (not in detail), fascism
The crowd was murmuring restlessly for their execution.
Strangely, they were easily silenced by a wave from one of the armored men standing on the platform. Most bloodthirsty crowds out for the deaths of innocents, in Xan’s experience, were not that easily cowed.
Just what sort of world had he stepped into?
“These traitors,” what looked like the leader boomed, “...dared to think they could bring about the destruction of peace. A peace brought to you by the New World Order. They shall be punished as they deserve.”
He raised something, some sort of device with clamps, and secured it to Jaz’s chest. There was a roar from the crowd, and three other clamps were fastened to the chests of the other executionees.
The Captain tried to blend in, but it was a lot more difficult than in his days in the Time Agency. He’d been able to ignore his feelings, on the few occasions he’d even had any, so much easier, but then, he’d been a different man then. A worse man. How could he cheer for the death of his friends?
Then it got worse. The clamps squeezed suddenly, and he had to look away, hearing the rip and crunch on the chests. The onlookers crowded forward, faces upturned at the spray of blood, like some would welcome rain.
Xan did his best to not be sick and hoped that everyone was paying too much attention to the execution and little to none on him.
As expected, it was too much to hope for.
“This one!” Someone shoved him forward in front of the crowd. “He’s a rebel! Look at how he reacted to the deserved deaths of known rebels!”
The mood turned even uglier, and he staggered a little at the roughness of the shove and the absolute hatred he could feel from the mob. He’d caught emotions off of other people before—a variety, too—but rarely had he felt something this ugly. The hard, vicious wall was terrifying. He braced himself for a painful death. With this crowd, he wasn’t arguing his way out of this one.
“Bring him forth! He’ll have to be questioned to learn of any more traitorous plots!” Rough hands grabbed him and pulled him onto the platform. He’d talked himself out of worse situations before, so why wasn’t he able to do it now?
Because however charismatic he was, these people didn’t want to listen to him. It was impossible to sway people like this.
His wandering thoughts were cut off by a sharp prick in his neck. Shortly after, he felt consciousness fading.
