some more comment-fic
Here's some more comment-fic:
Title: The Heart Out Of You
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Word count: 513
Disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to the BBC, and that which it is derived from is Arthur Conan Doyle's. Not mine.
Warnings: AU, I do magical realism with probably disturbing imagery, Lovecraftian themes
Prompt: Mycroft + Sherlock, in order to protect his younger brother, Mycroft is forced to give up his living, beating heart and have it relaced with a mechanical one
Sherlock is seven years old when he trips into the web of a Thing-From-Inbetween. He tries very, very hard to get free, but the more he struggles the more entangled he becomes.
And then his struggles, and the vibrations they cause along the threads of the web, bring the Thing itself.
Slowly, almost tenderly, it opens up his chest cavity. It takes out his beating heart, and swallows it whole.
"Beautiful child, I think I'll keep you here forever," it coos. Sherlock stares blankly; all of the spirit has been leeched from his eyes.
Later, Mycroft comes. "No," he whispers, horror-stricken. Sherlock blinks and tilts his head, but he doesn't feel anything.
Mycroft pulls Sherlock out of the web and carries him away.
Mycroft takes Sherlock home, and lays him down on his bed. For a rather long time, Mycroft simply stands there and looks down at his dead-eyed little brother. And then he leaves, and when he comes back he's holding a knife, a large needle and a length of thread.
He cleaves open his own chest. He reaches past his ribs and pulls out his heart, then shoves it into the hole over the place where his brother's heart should be. He means to sew it up, next, so that no one need know Sherlock was ever heartless, but...
Well, it doesn't really matter, does it?
Sherlock looks around, groggy and confused. He looks at Mycroft, with the hole in his chest. He looks at the heart now beating within his own still-open chest cavity.
"Mycroft, you idiot," he mutters.
He takes the needle and thread, and he sews himself closed. Then he leaves the room, in search of everything he needs.
He takes the insides out of the big old clock, casting aside everything that doesn't seem necessary. He finds some wire and some silken threads, to bind everything together. He encases it all in silver.
Last, but most importantly, he uses his own blood to draw certain symbols onto his creation. For life.
He takes the cold, makeshift heart to Mycroft. He places it in his brother's chest, and then sews up the hole.
"Aren't you supposed to be smart?" he says, when he sees something like life flowing into Mycroft's eyes.
Mycroft raises his eyebrows.
~
There are two brothers who live in London, name of Holmes. Everyone who meets the younger brother knows that there is something off about him, although most dismiss it as being nothing more than a side-effect of his unsettling genius. The older brother has the honorary title of Ice Man, among those who know of him.
The brothers are the only ones who know this, but the older brother has a cold magic-made substitute for a heart, because his very own heart beats inside the younger brother's chest. Not many people know this, because it is not an especially common thing, but the living, beating heart of another is never quite the same as your own.
Somewhere else in London, a Thing-From-Inbetween has stepped into human skin and given himself the name "Moriarty".
Title: Fallen to Black
Fandom: Avengers movieverse + Supernatural
Word count: 703
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or anything in the Avengers or Marvel franchise
Warnings: Hell, demons, the Devil
Prompt: Loki + any version of Lucifer, If you had wings little god, they would be black by now.
After Loki lets go, he falls for ages and ages, so it seems. Possibly he's falling through space and time. It would explain the things he glimpses as he falls; entire worlds and stars, ending and starting.
Eventually he hits the ground in a whole new world, and it is like nothing he has ever known. Everything is fire and filth and monsters with solid black eyes like windows into the void. They regard him with curiosity and intense, playful malice.
He hears the sounds of suffering beyond all endurance, a veritable symphony of agony. He knows that those void-eyed monsters must not have him, and he knows better than to confront an unknown enemy in unknown territory. So he runs and he hides, and when he can no longer hide he runs again.
As it turns out, once you start running in this place it is all but impossible to stop, no matter how much you learn, unless you are chained down for a monster's pleasure.
For such a long time, so long that he cannot even guess at how long it has been, his life is an endless cycle of running and hiding. It is almost like he is being herded deeper, because the monsters he glimpse seem more malicious and cruel, and even less like unto Aesir or human.
He tries to turn back, but then there is a white-eyed thing, and he comes closer to capture than he ever has before. He thinks that he might not have escaped if it had not been obviously distracted by something else; giving a screech of something like rage and then surging away.
Onwards is the only way, then. At least they don't seem to really care about him as long as he only travels in this direction, and he knows that can only mean that it is a terrible mistake to continue the way he is, but...
He might have been running and hiding for longer than he lived in Asgard, he's not really sure, and he's so tired. Even though he knows that it is a mistake, he can't fight his way back.
He knows that he would not survive it, not in his condition, and at least this way he has a semblance of a chance. So he tells himself.
And then he reaches the cage.
The thing inside is bright like the sun. Loki screws his eyes shut to keep from being blinded, and does not dare open them to find out if it worked.
There is a sound that makes the ground tremble. Loki realises that it is the thing's laughter.
"How novel to find one of your kind here, little pagan," it says.
"What are you?" Loki whispers.
"I'm an angel, little god. The brightest of them all. Open your eyes."
"Why should I? So that you can scorch them right out of the sockets?"
The thing laughs again, that terrible laughter. "I promise to refrain, little god, and I never lie. Everyone says I do, but..."
There is something compelling about the thing's voice, and he won't be getting anywhere like this anyway, so Loki opens his eyes.
There is less light this time, so it does not overwhelm his vision, and he can see that the thing, the angel, is beautiful and terrible both at once. Perhaps most striking of all is the vast black wings that arch out from its back.
"I thought that angels had white wings," he says, because he is pretty sure he read that in a book, once upon a time. How long has it been, now, since he had the chance to read any book at all?
"If you had wings, little god," says the angel, "they would be black by now."
"I don't understand."
"Have a seat, little god, make yourself comfortable. I know, it's not the best place for hospitality, but what can you do when you've been cast down by your Father?"
Loki gives a small, involuntary twitch at that. He cannot be sure, but he thinks the angel is smiling at him.
The angel continues: "I'll make you understand, little god, and then... and then, maybe we two fallen sons can help each other."
Title: The Flame Alchemist
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Word count: 1094
Disclaimer: Hiromu Arakawa is the mangaka of Fullmetal Alchemist
Warnings: Nonchalant murder and general destruction (well, it is a superhero AU, complete with supervillains)
Prompt: Superhero AU, Roy Mustang, Flame on!
Roy Mustang is thirteen years old when he finds out that he can make fire just by snapping his fingers. He does not know why he can do it, or how long he has been able to do it for, but it's awesome.
So, he practices and experiments with his power. He becomes powerful, and it doesn't matter that no one knows or that his grades at school aren't as good as they used to be. He's going to be a superhero one day soon, he just needs to learn a bit more about controlling his power first.
He's sixteen years old when he decides that he's ready. He dresses up in the costume he's been preparing, all dark blue and black flame-patterns, and white gloves with his symbol stenciled in red on them, and he takes to the darkling streets.
Everything goes well for the first few nights. Many criminals are cowed by the mere presence of a superhero, even an unknown like him, and all others are easily captured or sent scurrying by his fire. It's easy.
Then he fights his first supervillain.
She's a lovely woman and dressed to flaunt it, and maybe he's a little bit distracted, but he is a teenager. That isn't really why he loses, anyway; this is a woman who knows how to fight, and must have been practising for quite some time. She has fingers that harden and extend so that they're like knives, or spears, except that these can cut through concrete, and it isn't long before he's standing still with those sharp edges right next to his throat.
"It's almost a pity," she says, and her voice is smooth and somehow suggestive of dark chocolate. "You might have become someone, if you'd been a little smarter."
Her eyes are cold and her smile is cold; everything about this woman is cold. Roy knows that he is about to die.
The woman cries out, suddenly, and stumbles back. He should take the opportunity to get away, but his legs won't cooperate with his brain. The woman has clasped her left hand over her right shoulder; he glimpses red liquid - blood - trickling out from behind that elegant hand.
She starts towards him, but something small and fast-moving hits the ground in front of her, throwing up a small explosion of earth and garden-plants.
There's a sniper watching over him.
The villain makes a low, furious sound, and flees down the nearest alley, swiftly vanishing into the darkness.
Roy goes home, sneaks in through his bedroom window. He's surprised to find a girl waiting for him; a pretty and dignified blonde. Riza, from school, and there's a rifle at her feet.
"You should be more careful about who you get into fights with, Roy," she says.
"How...?"
"I saw you experimenting. You should be more careful about that, too."
After that, Riza becomes his trusted ally. She watches over him from above, and covers for him when he needs it. She isn't afraid to tell him when he's overly cocky or reckless, or when he takes things too far. They become known; he's the Flame Alchemist and she's the Hawk's Eyes.
A few years later another hero joins up with them. He calls himself Red Lotus, which doesn't really make sense considering that his costume is white and there's nothing flowery about it. When Roy asks him about this, he only laughs and says, "Yes, but I like it."
Roy doesn't trust Red Lotus at first, and neither does Riza. It isn't anything personal, just that they aren't accustomed to trusting other people with this, but then Red Lotus saves his life.
He's been occupied with his research and running on too little sleep, and coffee doesn't work forever as a remedy for sleep deprivation. So even though he's only fighting a small-time villain barely worthy of the title, he stumbles when he shouldn't, and this was one of the rare occasions that Riza couldn't join him, and...
The villain explodes, literally, as does half the street. It is a very good thing that this isn't a residential area.
Red Lotus jumps down in front of him. "We should leave, Flame Alchemist," he says.
"Yes, of course," says Roy, and lets Red Lotus help him to his feet. "Thank you, for saving me." He hesitates. "It's a shame you had to kill him, though."
Red Lotus shrugs noncommittally. Roy tells himself that there was no other way, and of course Red Lotus wouldn't kill anyone if there was another option.
Maybe he's come to trust Red Lotus after all, in all their time fighting together.
Riza's feelings are mixed. "Of course I'm grateful that he saved you," she says. "But that doesn't mean he's trustworthy. Just be careful, Roy. Sometimes I think there's something... off about him... creepy..."
It turns out that he should have listened to her instincts.
It starts out as a peaceful day, so normal that it's abnormal. Isn't it a law of the universe that superheroes only have peaceful days just before something big?
So, it starts out as a peaceful day, and then a mall blows up. Roy rushes right over to see what he can do to help, and is greeted by the sight of a cackling Red Lotus. "It's beautiful, isn't it, Flame Alchemist?"
"No, it really isn't. Red Lotus, why?"
"Because I can. What other reason is there to do anything?"
There are no words for that. All Roy can think to do is attack.
In retrospect, flinging fire at a madman who makes things explode may not have been his sanest idea. The fight lasts for far too long after that, and the collateral is spectacular. Eventually, Roy is drenched in sweat and singed by his own fire, and his ears are ringing. Also, his victory is imminent.
And then Red Lotus' allies join the fray.
He can't help but gape at the woman, because he recognises her. She's that same woman from years ago, the first supervillain he ever fought. She smirks. "Well, well. You became someone after all, Flame Alchemist."
Her companion, an androgynous teen with crazy hair that makes Roy think of a palm tree, smiles. There is something mocking and cruel about that smile. "You look like you've been having fun, Red Lotus."
Red Lotus laughs. "Oh, yes."
The last thing Roy hears, before darkness intrudes on his vision and he loses his hold on consciousness, is the woman's dark-chocolate voice saying, "Leave the Flame Alchemist. Wrath has plans for him."
Title: The Coming Storm
Fandom: Avengers movieverse
Word count: 88
Disclaimer: Marvel owns the Avengers and Thor
Warnings: No
Prompt: Thor, First time he lifted the hammer.
The first time Thor lifts Mjolnir, it feels...
Well, it isn't the easiest thing to describe.
(Power)
There's lightning in his blood and thunder in his head. There's a storm coming, he is the storm and the storm is he.
Thor has always known that he will be a great warrior one day, but it has never felt closer than it does now. He realises that he is feeling true battlelust for the first time.
He will carry Mjolnir into battle, into war, and it will be glorious.
Title: The Heart Out Of You
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Word count: 513
Disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to the BBC, and that which it is derived from is Arthur Conan Doyle's. Not mine.
Warnings: AU, I do magical realism with probably disturbing imagery, Lovecraftian themes
Prompt: Mycroft + Sherlock, in order to protect his younger brother, Mycroft is forced to give up his living, beating heart and have it relaced with a mechanical one
Sherlock is seven years old when he trips into the web of a Thing-From-Inbetween. He tries very, very hard to get free, but the more he struggles the more entangled he becomes.
And then his struggles, and the vibrations they cause along the threads of the web, bring the Thing itself.
Slowly, almost tenderly, it opens up his chest cavity. It takes out his beating heart, and swallows it whole.
"Beautiful child, I think I'll keep you here forever," it coos. Sherlock stares blankly; all of the spirit has been leeched from his eyes.
Later, Mycroft comes. "No," he whispers, horror-stricken. Sherlock blinks and tilts his head, but he doesn't feel anything.
Mycroft pulls Sherlock out of the web and carries him away.
Mycroft takes Sherlock home, and lays him down on his bed. For a rather long time, Mycroft simply stands there and looks down at his dead-eyed little brother. And then he leaves, and when he comes back he's holding a knife, a large needle and a length of thread.
He cleaves open his own chest. He reaches past his ribs and pulls out his heart, then shoves it into the hole over the place where his brother's heart should be. He means to sew it up, next, so that no one need know Sherlock was ever heartless, but...
Well, it doesn't really matter, does it?
Sherlock looks around, groggy and confused. He looks at Mycroft, with the hole in his chest. He looks at the heart now beating within his own still-open chest cavity.
"Mycroft, you idiot," he mutters.
He takes the needle and thread, and he sews himself closed. Then he leaves the room, in search of everything he needs.
He takes the insides out of the big old clock, casting aside everything that doesn't seem necessary. He finds some wire and some silken threads, to bind everything together. He encases it all in silver.
Last, but most importantly, he uses his own blood to draw certain symbols onto his creation. For life.
He takes the cold, makeshift heart to Mycroft. He places it in his brother's chest, and then sews up the hole.
"Aren't you supposed to be smart?" he says, when he sees something like life flowing into Mycroft's eyes.
Mycroft raises his eyebrows.
~
There are two brothers who live in London, name of Holmes. Everyone who meets the younger brother knows that there is something off about him, although most dismiss it as being nothing more than a side-effect of his unsettling genius. The older brother has the honorary title of Ice Man, among those who know of him.
The brothers are the only ones who know this, but the older brother has a cold magic-made substitute for a heart, because his very own heart beats inside the younger brother's chest. Not many people know this, because it is not an especially common thing, but the living, beating heart of another is never quite the same as your own.
Somewhere else in London, a Thing-From-Inbetween has stepped into human skin and given himself the name "Moriarty".
Title: Fallen to Black
Fandom: Avengers movieverse + Supernatural
Word count: 703
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or anything in the Avengers or Marvel franchise
Warnings: Hell, demons, the Devil
Prompt: Loki + any version of Lucifer, If you had wings little god, they would be black by now.
After Loki lets go, he falls for ages and ages, so it seems. Possibly he's falling through space and time. It would explain the things he glimpses as he falls; entire worlds and stars, ending and starting.
Eventually he hits the ground in a whole new world, and it is like nothing he has ever known. Everything is fire and filth and monsters with solid black eyes like windows into the void. They regard him with curiosity and intense, playful malice.
He hears the sounds of suffering beyond all endurance, a veritable symphony of agony. He knows that those void-eyed monsters must not have him, and he knows better than to confront an unknown enemy in unknown territory. So he runs and he hides, and when he can no longer hide he runs again.
As it turns out, once you start running in this place it is all but impossible to stop, no matter how much you learn, unless you are chained down for a monster's pleasure.
For such a long time, so long that he cannot even guess at how long it has been, his life is an endless cycle of running and hiding. It is almost like he is being herded deeper, because the monsters he glimpse seem more malicious and cruel, and even less like unto Aesir or human.
He tries to turn back, but then there is a white-eyed thing, and he comes closer to capture than he ever has before. He thinks that he might not have escaped if it had not been obviously distracted by something else; giving a screech of something like rage and then surging away.
Onwards is the only way, then. At least they don't seem to really care about him as long as he only travels in this direction, and he knows that can only mean that it is a terrible mistake to continue the way he is, but...
He might have been running and hiding for longer than he lived in Asgard, he's not really sure, and he's so tired. Even though he knows that it is a mistake, he can't fight his way back.
He knows that he would not survive it, not in his condition, and at least this way he has a semblance of a chance. So he tells himself.
And then he reaches the cage.
The thing inside is bright like the sun. Loki screws his eyes shut to keep from being blinded, and does not dare open them to find out if it worked.
There is a sound that makes the ground tremble. Loki realises that it is the thing's laughter.
"How novel to find one of your kind here, little pagan," it says.
"What are you?" Loki whispers.
"I'm an angel, little god. The brightest of them all. Open your eyes."
"Why should I? So that you can scorch them right out of the sockets?"
The thing laughs again, that terrible laughter. "I promise to refrain, little god, and I never lie. Everyone says I do, but..."
There is something compelling about the thing's voice, and he won't be getting anywhere like this anyway, so Loki opens his eyes.
There is less light this time, so it does not overwhelm his vision, and he can see that the thing, the angel, is beautiful and terrible both at once. Perhaps most striking of all is the vast black wings that arch out from its back.
"I thought that angels had white wings," he says, because he is pretty sure he read that in a book, once upon a time. How long has it been, now, since he had the chance to read any book at all?
"If you had wings, little god," says the angel, "they would be black by now."
"I don't understand."
"Have a seat, little god, make yourself comfortable. I know, it's not the best place for hospitality, but what can you do when you've been cast down by your Father?"
Loki gives a small, involuntary twitch at that. He cannot be sure, but he thinks the angel is smiling at him.
The angel continues: "I'll make you understand, little god, and then... and then, maybe we two fallen sons can help each other."
Title: The Flame Alchemist
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Word count: 1094
Disclaimer: Hiromu Arakawa is the mangaka of Fullmetal Alchemist
Warnings: Nonchalant murder and general destruction (well, it is a superhero AU, complete with supervillains)
Prompt: Superhero AU, Roy Mustang, Flame on!
Roy Mustang is thirteen years old when he finds out that he can make fire just by snapping his fingers. He does not know why he can do it, or how long he has been able to do it for, but it's awesome.
So, he practices and experiments with his power. He becomes powerful, and it doesn't matter that no one knows or that his grades at school aren't as good as they used to be. He's going to be a superhero one day soon, he just needs to learn a bit more about controlling his power first.
He's sixteen years old when he decides that he's ready. He dresses up in the costume he's been preparing, all dark blue and black flame-patterns, and white gloves with his symbol stenciled in red on them, and he takes to the darkling streets.
Everything goes well for the first few nights. Many criminals are cowed by the mere presence of a superhero, even an unknown like him, and all others are easily captured or sent scurrying by his fire. It's easy.
Then he fights his first supervillain.
She's a lovely woman and dressed to flaunt it, and maybe he's a little bit distracted, but he is a teenager. That isn't really why he loses, anyway; this is a woman who knows how to fight, and must have been practising for quite some time. She has fingers that harden and extend so that they're like knives, or spears, except that these can cut through concrete, and it isn't long before he's standing still with those sharp edges right next to his throat.
"It's almost a pity," she says, and her voice is smooth and somehow suggestive of dark chocolate. "You might have become someone, if you'd been a little smarter."
Her eyes are cold and her smile is cold; everything about this woman is cold. Roy knows that he is about to die.
The woman cries out, suddenly, and stumbles back. He should take the opportunity to get away, but his legs won't cooperate with his brain. The woman has clasped her left hand over her right shoulder; he glimpses red liquid - blood - trickling out from behind that elegant hand.
She starts towards him, but something small and fast-moving hits the ground in front of her, throwing up a small explosion of earth and garden-plants.
There's a sniper watching over him.
The villain makes a low, furious sound, and flees down the nearest alley, swiftly vanishing into the darkness.
Roy goes home, sneaks in through his bedroom window. He's surprised to find a girl waiting for him; a pretty and dignified blonde. Riza, from school, and there's a rifle at her feet.
"You should be more careful about who you get into fights with, Roy," she says.
"How...?"
"I saw you experimenting. You should be more careful about that, too."
After that, Riza becomes his trusted ally. She watches over him from above, and covers for him when he needs it. She isn't afraid to tell him when he's overly cocky or reckless, or when he takes things too far. They become known; he's the Flame Alchemist and she's the Hawk's Eyes.
A few years later another hero joins up with them. He calls himself Red Lotus, which doesn't really make sense considering that his costume is white and there's nothing flowery about it. When Roy asks him about this, he only laughs and says, "Yes, but I like it."
Roy doesn't trust Red Lotus at first, and neither does Riza. It isn't anything personal, just that they aren't accustomed to trusting other people with this, but then Red Lotus saves his life.
He's been occupied with his research and running on too little sleep, and coffee doesn't work forever as a remedy for sleep deprivation. So even though he's only fighting a small-time villain barely worthy of the title, he stumbles when he shouldn't, and this was one of the rare occasions that Riza couldn't join him, and...
The villain explodes, literally, as does half the street. It is a very good thing that this isn't a residential area.
Red Lotus jumps down in front of him. "We should leave, Flame Alchemist," he says.
"Yes, of course," says Roy, and lets Red Lotus help him to his feet. "Thank you, for saving me." He hesitates. "It's a shame you had to kill him, though."
Red Lotus shrugs noncommittally. Roy tells himself that there was no other way, and of course Red Lotus wouldn't kill anyone if there was another option.
Maybe he's come to trust Red Lotus after all, in all their time fighting together.
Riza's feelings are mixed. "Of course I'm grateful that he saved you," she says. "But that doesn't mean he's trustworthy. Just be careful, Roy. Sometimes I think there's something... off about him... creepy..."
It turns out that he should have listened to her instincts.
It starts out as a peaceful day, so normal that it's abnormal. Isn't it a law of the universe that superheroes only have peaceful days just before something big?
So, it starts out as a peaceful day, and then a mall blows up. Roy rushes right over to see what he can do to help, and is greeted by the sight of a cackling Red Lotus. "It's beautiful, isn't it, Flame Alchemist?"
"No, it really isn't. Red Lotus, why?"
"Because I can. What other reason is there to do anything?"
There are no words for that. All Roy can think to do is attack.
In retrospect, flinging fire at a madman who makes things explode may not have been his sanest idea. The fight lasts for far too long after that, and the collateral is spectacular. Eventually, Roy is drenched in sweat and singed by his own fire, and his ears are ringing. Also, his victory is imminent.
And then Red Lotus' allies join the fray.
He can't help but gape at the woman, because he recognises her. She's that same woman from years ago, the first supervillain he ever fought. She smirks. "Well, well. You became someone after all, Flame Alchemist."
Her companion, an androgynous teen with crazy hair that makes Roy think of a palm tree, smiles. There is something mocking and cruel about that smile. "You look like you've been having fun, Red Lotus."
Red Lotus laughs. "Oh, yes."
The last thing Roy hears, before darkness intrudes on his vision and he loses his hold on consciousness, is the woman's dark-chocolate voice saying, "Leave the Flame Alchemist. Wrath has plans for him."
Title: The Coming Storm
Fandom: Avengers movieverse
Word count: 88
Disclaimer: Marvel owns the Avengers and Thor
Warnings: No
Prompt: Thor, First time he lifted the hammer.
The first time Thor lifts Mjolnir, it feels...
Well, it isn't the easiest thing to describe.
(Power)
There's lightning in his blood and thunder in his head. There's a storm coming, he is the storm and the storm is he.
Thor has always known that he will be a great warrior one day, but it has never felt closer than it does now. He realises that he is feeling true battlelust for the first time.
He will carry Mjolnir into battle, into war, and it will be glorious.