more comment-fic
Here's the next set:
Title: Nothing Better Than Cold and Dark
Fandom: Rise of the Guardians
Word count: 272
Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians
Warnings: Darkside divergent fic (join us, we have nightmares), hint of male/male seduction
Pairing: Pitch/Jack
Prompt: Rise of the Guardians (2012), Pitch/Jack, a drabble or something based on this video
It is the most fun Jack has had in three hundred years. The nightmare is strong and swift and gorgeous, and he laughs with pure joy as the wind returns him to her back. He wraps her mane around his fingers and keeps right on laughing.
Snow days and snowball fights are fun, but they're nothing to the excitement of something entirely new accompanied by the knowledge that...
The nightmare prances to a halt. Jack beams as he somersaults from her back and bounces to his feet in front of Pitch. "That was brilliant!" he enthuses.
... the knowledge that now he has a companion who understands and values him, if only he says yes. He will certainly say yes.
Looking at Pitch's satisfied smile, he thinks that the Boogieman must already know. Long, slender fingers curl around his shoulder; he closes his eyes and gives a quiet sigh of pleasure. He had been alone without contact for far too long, until the Guardians deigned to notice him. Yet the Guardians are always busy busy busy. They have no time for him; he has no idea why they ever bothered at all.
This will be better. It has to be.
"We will be believed in," says Pitch. "Everything, the entire world, will be Pitch Black and Jack Frost." He laughs, then, and it is an alluring, seductive sound.
"Yes," Jack breathes. Privately, he thinks that is a very dramatic way of putting it, but he is already getting used to melodrama from Pitch. It's not like Jack has ever refrained from theatrics when they suit him, anyway.
"So, when do we start?"
Title: Hushabye
Fandom: Sherlock + Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Word count: 310
Warnings: Pre-femslash, copious amounts of blood, soulless vampirism
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or Buffy
Pairing: Drusilla/Molly Hooper
Prompt: Author's choice, any, Rise and shine, sleepy head. Half the town's already dead.
Molly Hooper feels so, so cold. She whimpers and curls into a ball, somewhere partway between sleep and awakening.
A female voice penetrates the haze, mellow and sing-song. "Rise and shine, sleepy head. Half the town's already dead."
What?
Molly opens her eyes. The first thing she sees is red, pooling and congealing just in front of her.
It's blood, she knows blood when she sees it. Why is it blood?
She recoils in panic, but cold arms wrap around her, restraining her. She stares down at those pale arms, as pale as Sherlock's must be, if she ever saw Sherlock's arms.
"Ssshhh."
She feels light-headed, almost dizzy. Her thoughts are scattered, she needs to gather them.
That might be more difficult than it should be.
"Who are you?" she manages to choke out past the fear. "What do you want?"
"I'll have you, poppet."
The arms loosen, and finally Molly can turn around. She gasps, because here is a woman's body, but that face... that face is not a human's face, and those yellow eyes are not human eyes.
Molly opens her mouth, to scream or yell or just to give voice to the obvious, she doesn't know which, but an elegant, slender hand covers her mouth. She thinks that she glimpsed blood beneath the painted fingernails, and isn't that a useless observation to make?
"Ssshhh. Don't cry, Mummy's here."
The creature, the thing, bites into her neck. She struggles, but the thing is so strong, and Molly is weakening with every little bit of blood it takes.
A vampire?
Eventually it lets her go, lowers her to the floor with gentleness so out of place. She's far too weak to escape, or even consider escaping.
"Mummy will make it all better," coos the vampire. Her, its, her wrist is bleeding, she holds it to Molly's mouth.
Molly drinks.
Title: Obey
Fandom: Supernatural
Word count: 313
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural
Warnings: Historical/religious atrocity, heaven is not a utopia
Prompt: Supernatural, Castiel, "I never asked for this."
It is an angel's purpose to obey. Any angel that does not obey is defective; like disgraced, banished Lucifer.
It is an angel's raison d'être to obey.
"Kill every firstborn in Egypt whose door is not marked with blood. Kill every firstborn, even the slaves and the cattle."
Castiel tilts his borrowed human head, birdlike and curious. There is something growing in his eyes, something discontent and uneasy that should not be.
"Why?" he asks.
It is the first time since the Morning Star and his followers fell that an angel has questioned orders. Michael flares his wings and glares. "As is the Lord's will, so it must be done."
Castiel is silent, for what can be said to that? Yet...
"Why? They are innocents."
Angels must obey.
When next Castiel awakens, he is bound with Enochian magic and Naomi is leaning over him. "You should have done as you were told, Castiel."
He glances sideways at the tray where Naomi displays the tools of her specialty. She is heaven's enforcer, the one who unhesitatingly stoops to depths that the other angels like to pretend they are above. She works from the figurative shadows, protected by her knowledge of secrets and her usefulness.
"No," he says. "Why should I slaughter the innocent? I never asked for that, and neither did they."
"That isn't the point, Castiel." She places her hands to either side of his head. "You have to forget all of this and be a good little soldier. Forget, Castiel..."
"No," he chokes out, but it has already begun and she will not stop. She must not stop.
"Forget all of it, Castiel. Forget."
Castiel's world is fading, darkening. It is harder and harder to hold onto his thoughts and his very self. Just before he loses his hold on the last of it he thinks he hears her whisper, "I'm sorry."
Title: He's Back
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word count: 209
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who
Warnings: Season 7 finale spoilers (also in prompt)
Prompt: Doctor Who s7 finale spoilers
.
..
...
..
.
Doctor Who, Eleven + or / the Master, Clara wasn't the only outsider he found at the bottom of his time stream in the fog and the rocks
Clara isn't looking at him. She's looking at something behind him. "Doctor? Who's that?"
"Yes, Doctor," says a voice, bright and just slightly mocking. "Who am I?"
He knows that voice. He has dreamed of that voice, in memory-dreams and dreams of what might have been. That voice should not be here.
Slowly, the Doctor turns around. "You," he says, and stares with a hint of accusation. "You can't be here."
The Master laughs at him. "Yet here I am. Isn't it brilliant?"
"Doctor," Clara interrupts. "Who is he?"
"An old... friend. Once."
The Master laughs again. "Friends, Doctor? That's so sweet."
"Once!" the Doctor repeats, with emphasis. "Then we fought. A lot."
"He never visits unless I'm taking over planets," the Master confides to Clara in a stage whisper. "It's fun."
Clara frowns. "So you take over planets to get the Doctor to visit?"
"No!" the Doctor protests loudly, a hint of worry hiding under the vehemence.
"Maybe," the Master shrugs and grins. "A bit. But mostly because it's fun."
"Why are you even in here?" the Doctor complains. "You shouldn't be here. Come on, Clara, Master. We're leaving."
He turns to lead the way, deliberately ignoring Clara's alarmed and incredulous "Master?! Why are you calling him Master?"
Title: Nothing Better Than Cold and Dark
Fandom: Rise of the Guardians
Word count: 272
Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians
Warnings: Darkside divergent fic (join us, we have nightmares), hint of male/male seduction
Pairing: Pitch/Jack
Prompt: Rise of the Guardians (2012), Pitch/Jack, a drabble or something based on this video
It is the most fun Jack has had in three hundred years. The nightmare is strong and swift and gorgeous, and he laughs with pure joy as the wind returns him to her back. He wraps her mane around his fingers and keeps right on laughing.
Snow days and snowball fights are fun, but they're nothing to the excitement of something entirely new accompanied by the knowledge that...
The nightmare prances to a halt. Jack beams as he somersaults from her back and bounces to his feet in front of Pitch. "That was brilliant!" he enthuses.
... the knowledge that now he has a companion who understands and values him, if only he says yes. He will certainly say yes.
Looking at Pitch's satisfied smile, he thinks that the Boogieman must already know. Long, slender fingers curl around his shoulder; he closes his eyes and gives a quiet sigh of pleasure. He had been alone without contact for far too long, until the Guardians deigned to notice him. Yet the Guardians are always busy busy busy. They have no time for him; he has no idea why they ever bothered at all.
This will be better. It has to be.
"We will be believed in," says Pitch. "Everything, the entire world, will be Pitch Black and Jack Frost." He laughs, then, and it is an alluring, seductive sound.
"Yes," Jack breathes. Privately, he thinks that is a very dramatic way of putting it, but he is already getting used to melodrama from Pitch. It's not like Jack has ever refrained from theatrics when they suit him, anyway.
"So, when do we start?"
Title: Hushabye
Fandom: Sherlock + Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Word count: 310
Warnings: Pre-femslash, copious amounts of blood, soulless vampirism
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or Buffy
Pairing: Drusilla/Molly Hooper
Prompt: Author's choice, any, Rise and shine, sleepy head. Half the town's already dead.
Molly Hooper feels so, so cold. She whimpers and curls into a ball, somewhere partway between sleep and awakening.
A female voice penetrates the haze, mellow and sing-song. "Rise and shine, sleepy head. Half the town's already dead."
What?
Molly opens her eyes. The first thing she sees is red, pooling and congealing just in front of her.
It's blood, she knows blood when she sees it. Why is it blood?
She recoils in panic, but cold arms wrap around her, restraining her. She stares down at those pale arms, as pale as Sherlock's must be, if she ever saw Sherlock's arms.
"Ssshhh."
She feels light-headed, almost dizzy. Her thoughts are scattered, she needs to gather them.
That might be more difficult than it should be.
"Who are you?" she manages to choke out past the fear. "What do you want?"
"I'll have you, poppet."
The arms loosen, and finally Molly can turn around. She gasps, because here is a woman's body, but that face... that face is not a human's face, and those yellow eyes are not human eyes.
Molly opens her mouth, to scream or yell or just to give voice to the obvious, she doesn't know which, but an elegant, slender hand covers her mouth. She thinks that she glimpsed blood beneath the painted fingernails, and isn't that a useless observation to make?
"Ssshhh. Don't cry, Mummy's here."
The creature, the thing, bites into her neck. She struggles, but the thing is so strong, and Molly is weakening with every little bit of blood it takes.
A vampire?
Eventually it lets her go, lowers her to the floor with gentleness so out of place. She's far too weak to escape, or even consider escaping.
"Mummy will make it all better," coos the vampire. Her, its, her wrist is bleeding, she holds it to Molly's mouth.
Molly drinks.
Title: Obey
Fandom: Supernatural
Word count: 313
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural
Warnings: Historical/religious atrocity, heaven is not a utopia
Prompt: Supernatural, Castiel, "I never asked for this."
It is an angel's purpose to obey. Any angel that does not obey is defective; like disgraced, banished Lucifer.
It is an angel's raison d'être to obey.
"Kill every firstborn in Egypt whose door is not marked with blood. Kill every firstborn, even the slaves and the cattle."
Castiel tilts his borrowed human head, birdlike and curious. There is something growing in his eyes, something discontent and uneasy that should not be.
"Why?" he asks.
It is the first time since the Morning Star and his followers fell that an angel has questioned orders. Michael flares his wings and glares. "As is the Lord's will, so it must be done."
Castiel is silent, for what can be said to that? Yet...
"Why? They are innocents."
Angels must obey.
When next Castiel awakens, he is bound with Enochian magic and Naomi is leaning over him. "You should have done as you were told, Castiel."
He glances sideways at the tray where Naomi displays the tools of her specialty. She is heaven's enforcer, the one who unhesitatingly stoops to depths that the other angels like to pretend they are above. She works from the figurative shadows, protected by her knowledge of secrets and her usefulness.
"No," he says. "Why should I slaughter the innocent? I never asked for that, and neither did they."
"That isn't the point, Castiel." She places her hands to either side of his head. "You have to forget all of this and be a good little soldier. Forget, Castiel..."
"No," he chokes out, but it has already begun and she will not stop. She must not stop.
"Forget all of it, Castiel. Forget."
Castiel's world is fading, darkening. It is harder and harder to hold onto his thoughts and his very self. Just before he loses his hold on the last of it he thinks he hears her whisper, "I'm sorry."
Title: He's Back
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word count: 209
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who
Warnings: Season 7 finale spoilers (also in prompt)
Prompt: Doctor Who s7 finale spoilers
.
..
...
..
.
Doctor Who, Eleven + or / the Master, Clara wasn't the only outsider he found at the bottom of his time stream in the fog and the rocks
Clara isn't looking at him. She's looking at something behind him. "Doctor? Who's that?"
"Yes, Doctor," says a voice, bright and just slightly mocking. "Who am I?"
He knows that voice. He has dreamed of that voice, in memory-dreams and dreams of what might have been. That voice should not be here.
Slowly, the Doctor turns around. "You," he says, and stares with a hint of accusation. "You can't be here."
The Master laughs at him. "Yet here I am. Isn't it brilliant?"
"Doctor," Clara interrupts. "Who is he?"
"An old... friend. Once."
The Master laughs again. "Friends, Doctor? That's so sweet."
"Once!" the Doctor repeats, with emphasis. "Then we fought. A lot."
"He never visits unless I'm taking over planets," the Master confides to Clara in a stage whisper. "It's fun."
Clara frowns. "So you take over planets to get the Doctor to visit?"
"No!" the Doctor protests loudly, a hint of worry hiding under the vehemence.
"Maybe," the Master shrugs and grins. "A bit. But mostly because it's fun."
"Why are you even in here?" the Doctor complains. "You shouldn't be here. Come on, Clara, Master. We're leaving."
He turns to lead the way, deliberately ignoring Clara's alarmed and incredulous "Master?! Why are you calling him Master?"