comment-fic
Here's some more fanfiction written for comment_fic:
Title: holy water cannot help you now
Fandom: Harry Potter, Supernatural
Word count: 405
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Supernatural. The title's from Florence + the Machine.
Characters: Lilith, Lily Potter, Harry Potter, Petunia Dursley, Dudley Dursley
Prompt: Supernatural/Harry Potter, author’s choice, Lily was short for Lilith
It happens when 10-year-old Harry is running from Dudley's gang. One moment he's ducking around a corner, hoping to throw them off, and the next moment there's a little girl clinging to his hand and pulling him along... in the park? They were on the other side of town just now, weren't they?
"Hello Harry," says the girl, smiling wide. She has red hair and hazel eyes, and she's wearing a flowing dress of green and blue.
"Er, hello," he replies. "Sorry, but have we met?"
"Oh yes. You probably don't remember, though."
"Er, no. Sorry."
"It's not your fault, dear. I've missed you so much."
Harry stares, wide-eyed. "You have?"
She laughs lightly, kindly. "Of course. I'd take you away if I could, but I need to work and my home's no place for such a precious child."
"Aren't you a child?"
She blinks, and suddenly her eyes are solid white. Harry's breath catches.
She winks. "Not really. Would you like to hear a story, sweetheart?"
Slowly, timidly, Harry nods.
~
Aunt Petunia is right there. Dudley's about to hit him, but she's looking away on purpose and he knows she won't help. "Roughhousing," she might call it later, and "boys will be boys."
She would react very differently if Harry was the one hitting Dudley.
"Dudley," says Harry, loudly enough for Aunt Petunia to hear, "if you don't stop, Lily will get you. She told me so."
Dudley laughs. "Who's Lily, your girlfriend?"
Harry looks right at Petunia, who has gone very still.
"She's Lilith," he says. "She's a demon."
Dudley snorts, but then Aunt Petunia is swooping down on them, white-faced and thin-lipped. "Where did you hear that?" she shrieks.
Harry just looks at her. She's shaking. "She's dead," she protests, more quietly. "They said she's dead."
Harry shakes his head and smiles a little. "Did you think a demon would die as easily as a witch?"
"Demons aren't real!" says Dudley. "You're a lying freak!"
"That's enough!" snaps Aunt Petunia. Dudley looks at her with confused disbelief.
Harry slips away quietly.
~
"Hufflepuff!" calls the Sorting Hat. Harry smiles and goes to join the cheering Hufflepuffs.
He has important things to do, far more important than these little witches and wizards can imagine. He won't let Mum down, no matter how uneasy parts of the plan make him.
People underestimate Hufflepuffs, he already knows. All the better for the work he must do.
Title: deliver us from evil
Fandom: Dracula
Word count: 260
Disclaimer: I don't own Dracula.
Warnings: Non-consensual dæmon touching and forced blood drinking.
Characters: Count Dracula, Mina Harker and her dæmon
Prompt: any fandom with vampires, author's choice, vampires don't have daemons
Mina gasps and falls to her knees. She can feel it. Sigmundri, her swan dæmon, her dear soul, his slender neck held in Count Dracula's cold dead hand. "Please," she gasps. "Please, let him go."
The Count's laugh is chilling; the smug triumph of a devil. "Come," he commands, and what else can she do but obey?
She tries to stand but she feels so weak and chilled all over, the dæmonless fiend's icy fingers rubbing her soul's neck in an unwelcome, sinister caress. She looks into Sigmundri's eyes, which are blank with unthinking panic, and she crawls to the Count's feet.
His free hand is beneath her chin, pushing it back so that her throat is bared, but she does not resist. How can she resist?
His reeking lips are upon her throat. Sigmundri cries out, "No," but is silenced by the tightening of the Count's grip, choking, merciless.
At last the Count takes his mouth away. He is talking, but Mina is only partly listening, focused as she is on poor, helpless Sigmundri.
The vampire's hand is on the back of her neck, now, and forcing her mouth to a bleeding wound on his chest. She tries not to swallow, she tries but she is suffocating, she swallows the blood.
"You are now to me, flesh of my flesh; blood of my blood; kin of my kin," she hears, and her heart clenches with fear, for the Count was once a living man and must have had a dæmon.
Oh my god! My god! What have I done?
Title: wish winter would only call you back to me
Fandom: Rise of the Guardians
Word count: 566
Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians. The title's from the Bee Gees.
Characters: Jack Frost and his dæmon
Prompt: author's choice, author's choice, [character's] daemon is a river otter
Mere moments after the departure of the boy with white hair like snow, a white-furred river otter surfaces from the lake and clambers up onto the ice.
"Jack?" she calls in a high, wavering voice. "Jack?!"
There is no reply, only the wind.
~
Jack Frost is so, so lonely; always has been for as long as he remembers. He laughs and plays and makes fun for children who never suspect he is there, and all the while he feels as though something important has been hollowed out of his soul and forgotten.
All the people he sees have companions that never leave them, devoted talking animals that aren't really animals at all, but he has never had one, has he? If only he did, he would be so much less lonely, maybe it wouldn't even matter that he goes unseen.
He tries not to dwell on it too much.
~
The white otter, whose name is Eira, comes across a strange black horse one night. The creature sends chills through every last particle of Dust that forms her.
It prances around her, snapping and stamping with a sort of playful nastiness. It doesn't quite touch her at first, only almost, almost. She tries to run, but the creature is always there to block the way.
Finally she stops. She draws herself up to her full height and makes a snarling growl.
The strange horse's teeth fasten onto her side. She screams and writhes, and then the creature lets her go and backs off, shaking its head vigorously to rid it of the biting frost.
Eira has no idea what just happened, but thereafter she has a black mark on her side in the shape of a horse's bite. Sometimes, when she looks at it, she has a nagging feeling that she narrowly escaped becoming something terrible.
~
His memories returned and Pitch defeated, Jack Frost goes looking for Eira, his dæmon. He died, he knows, and those who have died do not have dæmons, but still he hopes.
The Man in the Moon wouldn't bring him back but not his dæmon, would he? If he did...
Best not to think of that, yet, but it would be unforgivable.
"Jack!" he hears, and it is her, unmistakably her voice. He looks around and there she is, running on the wind, her fur as white as his hair. She reaches him, barrels into his arms. He holds her to his chest and whispers, "Eira," overwhelmed.
They talk and talk, three hundred lost years to catch up on. Jack examines the black mark on Eira's side with concern, and seethes when he hears how it came to be.
"Maybe," she whispers later, "maybe Pitch had the right of it."
"Eira!" he exclaims. "How can you say that?"
"I'm not saying I like what he did, but... we've been separated for three hundred years, Jack, and the Man in the Moon knew and didn't do a thing!"
Jack holds her tight. The black mark on her side tingles.
"Forget it!" she says, abruptly afraid. "Forget I said anything!"
Jack looks at her with a blank, empty expression, and she knows he won't, can't, forget. He's already spent far too long forgetting.
Suddenly he is all smiles. "You have to meet the Guardians, Eira!" he enthuses. She nods, chuckles.
They have always been good at pretending that everything is fine, even to themselves.
Title: holy water cannot help you now
Fandom: Harry Potter, Supernatural
Word count: 405
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Supernatural. The title's from Florence + the Machine.
Characters: Lilith, Lily Potter, Harry Potter, Petunia Dursley, Dudley Dursley
Prompt: Supernatural/Harry Potter, author’s choice, Lily was short for Lilith
It happens when 10-year-old Harry is running from Dudley's gang. One moment he's ducking around a corner, hoping to throw them off, and the next moment there's a little girl clinging to his hand and pulling him along... in the park? They were on the other side of town just now, weren't they?
"Hello Harry," says the girl, smiling wide. She has red hair and hazel eyes, and she's wearing a flowing dress of green and blue.
"Er, hello," he replies. "Sorry, but have we met?"
"Oh yes. You probably don't remember, though."
"Er, no. Sorry."
"It's not your fault, dear. I've missed you so much."
Harry stares, wide-eyed. "You have?"
She laughs lightly, kindly. "Of course. I'd take you away if I could, but I need to work and my home's no place for such a precious child."
"Aren't you a child?"
She blinks, and suddenly her eyes are solid white. Harry's breath catches.
She winks. "Not really. Would you like to hear a story, sweetheart?"
Slowly, timidly, Harry nods.
~
Aunt Petunia is right there. Dudley's about to hit him, but she's looking away on purpose and he knows she won't help. "Roughhousing," she might call it later, and "boys will be boys."
She would react very differently if Harry was the one hitting Dudley.
"Dudley," says Harry, loudly enough for Aunt Petunia to hear, "if you don't stop, Lily will get you. She told me so."
Dudley laughs. "Who's Lily, your girlfriend?"
Harry looks right at Petunia, who has gone very still.
"She's Lilith," he says. "She's a demon."
Dudley snorts, but then Aunt Petunia is swooping down on them, white-faced and thin-lipped. "Where did you hear that?" she shrieks.
Harry just looks at her. She's shaking. "She's dead," she protests, more quietly. "They said she's dead."
Harry shakes his head and smiles a little. "Did you think a demon would die as easily as a witch?"
"Demons aren't real!" says Dudley. "You're a lying freak!"
"That's enough!" snaps Aunt Petunia. Dudley looks at her with confused disbelief.
Harry slips away quietly.
~
"Hufflepuff!" calls the Sorting Hat. Harry smiles and goes to join the cheering Hufflepuffs.
He has important things to do, far more important than these little witches and wizards can imagine. He won't let Mum down, no matter how uneasy parts of the plan make him.
People underestimate Hufflepuffs, he already knows. All the better for the work he must do.
Title: deliver us from evil
Fandom: Dracula
Word count: 260
Disclaimer: I don't own Dracula.
Warnings: Non-consensual dæmon touching and forced blood drinking.
Characters: Count Dracula, Mina Harker and her dæmon
Prompt: any fandom with vampires, author's choice, vampires don't have daemons
Mina gasps and falls to her knees. She can feel it. Sigmundri, her swan dæmon, her dear soul, his slender neck held in Count Dracula's cold dead hand. "Please," she gasps. "Please, let him go."
The Count's laugh is chilling; the smug triumph of a devil. "Come," he commands, and what else can she do but obey?
She tries to stand but she feels so weak and chilled all over, the dæmonless fiend's icy fingers rubbing her soul's neck in an unwelcome, sinister caress. She looks into Sigmundri's eyes, which are blank with unthinking panic, and she crawls to the Count's feet.
His free hand is beneath her chin, pushing it back so that her throat is bared, but she does not resist. How can she resist?
His reeking lips are upon her throat. Sigmundri cries out, "No," but is silenced by the tightening of the Count's grip, choking, merciless.
At last the Count takes his mouth away. He is talking, but Mina is only partly listening, focused as she is on poor, helpless Sigmundri.
The vampire's hand is on the back of her neck, now, and forcing her mouth to a bleeding wound on his chest. She tries not to swallow, she tries but she is suffocating, she swallows the blood.
"You are now to me, flesh of my flesh; blood of my blood; kin of my kin," she hears, and her heart clenches with fear, for the Count was once a living man and must have had a dæmon.
Oh my god! My god! What have I done?
Title: wish winter would only call you back to me
Fandom: Rise of the Guardians
Word count: 566
Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians. The title's from the Bee Gees.
Characters: Jack Frost and his dæmon
Prompt: author's choice, author's choice, [character's] daemon is a river otter
Mere moments after the departure of the boy with white hair like snow, a white-furred river otter surfaces from the lake and clambers up onto the ice.
"Jack?" she calls in a high, wavering voice. "Jack?!"
There is no reply, only the wind.
~
Jack Frost is so, so lonely; always has been for as long as he remembers. He laughs and plays and makes fun for children who never suspect he is there, and all the while he feels as though something important has been hollowed out of his soul and forgotten.
All the people he sees have companions that never leave them, devoted talking animals that aren't really animals at all, but he has never had one, has he? If only he did, he would be so much less lonely, maybe it wouldn't even matter that he goes unseen.
He tries not to dwell on it too much.
~
The white otter, whose name is Eira, comes across a strange black horse one night. The creature sends chills through every last particle of Dust that forms her.
It prances around her, snapping and stamping with a sort of playful nastiness. It doesn't quite touch her at first, only almost, almost. She tries to run, but the creature is always there to block the way.
Finally she stops. She draws herself up to her full height and makes a snarling growl.
The strange horse's teeth fasten onto her side. She screams and writhes, and then the creature lets her go and backs off, shaking its head vigorously to rid it of the biting frost.
Eira has no idea what just happened, but thereafter she has a black mark on her side in the shape of a horse's bite. Sometimes, when she looks at it, she has a nagging feeling that she narrowly escaped becoming something terrible.
~
His memories returned and Pitch defeated, Jack Frost goes looking for Eira, his dæmon. He died, he knows, and those who have died do not have dæmons, but still he hopes.
The Man in the Moon wouldn't bring him back but not his dæmon, would he? If he did...
Best not to think of that, yet, but it would be unforgivable.
"Jack!" he hears, and it is her, unmistakably her voice. He looks around and there she is, running on the wind, her fur as white as his hair. She reaches him, barrels into his arms. He holds her to his chest and whispers, "Eira," overwhelmed.
They talk and talk, three hundred lost years to catch up on. Jack examines the black mark on Eira's side with concern, and seethes when he hears how it came to be.
"Maybe," she whispers later, "maybe Pitch had the right of it."
"Eira!" he exclaims. "How can you say that?"
"I'm not saying I like what he did, but... we've been separated for three hundred years, Jack, and the Man in the Moon knew and didn't do a thing!"
Jack holds her tight. The black mark on her side tingles.
"Forget it!" she says, abruptly afraid. "Forget I said anything!"
Jack looks at her with a blank, empty expression, and she knows he won't, can't, forget. He's already spent far too long forgetting.
Suddenly he is all smiles. "You have to meet the Guardians, Eira!" he enthuses. She nods, chuckles.
They have always been good at pretending that everything is fine, even to themselves.