comment_fic 196-200: Supernatural, Leverage, SN/Mag7, Heroes
Title: meatsuits and vessels, and the ground in-between
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: spoilers for everything aired
Pairings: none stated
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 410
Point of view: third
Prompt: Supernatural,Lucifer/Castiel/Michael,wearing vessels
None of them actually need meatsuits, of course. Bodies of flesh and bone and blood are useful for interaction with Father's lesser creations, but the final war will happen with or without them.
Demons enjoy wearing flesh. It's warm and cozy, and hearing the soul scream while the body does something horrific is such fun. Angels feel constrained, tethered and chained, but because it is necessary, they ask permission and take care to not damage the vessel too much, and then heal their host as they leave.
Michael's first human vessel is named John Winchester. As he speaks to John's son, he can feel John crumbling around him, weak and human and not enough to house the glory of God's Weapon. But he is careful and ensures that John will be even better after the possession. And he knows that Dean will be able to take him all.
Lucifer's first human vessel dies the moment Lucifer takes him, and the body doesn't last much longer. Lucifer wears him without care; Nick is nothing except the means to an end, and only Samuel will actually be enough.
Castiel talks to Jimmy, asks questions and answers queries. Whenever Dean says something that doesn't make sense, Castiel goes to Jimmy for clarification. After the re-indoctrination, though, Jimmy refuses to communicate at all, so Castiel gently tucks Jimmy away and lets him sleep, dreaming of Amelia and Claire. And after Raphael tears Castiel apart, Jimmy is no longer there. Castiel is alone and so little makes sense, but Father has returned. Of that, he is sure.
As Michael and Lucifer spiral toward their true vessels, Castiel feels himself growing more human, his wings tattering while the body that was once Jimmy's hungers.
Dean and Sam will never say yes, he knows. So why his brothers don't just battle it out in their true bodies, he has no idea.
Of course, he thinks, watching Dean and Sam eat dinner, wondering if a triple bacon burger can possibly taste as good as he remembers it tasting, even Michael has his pride. Maybe the fact that Dean refuses to submit is the only reason why Michael still pursues him. And Lucifer merely wants Sam to fall.
"Here," Dean grouses, handing over half his burger. "Quit givin' me Sam's puppy-eyes."
Lucifer and Michael will fail.
Castiel bites into the burger and finds that, yes, it tastes just as good as it did beneath Famine's influence. Maybe even better.
Title: confidential knowledge
Fandom: Leverage
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: takes place early on in the series
Pairings: none stated
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 260
Point of view: third
Prompt: Eliot, Sophie's the grifter, but Eliot's mask has been in place so long sometimes he forgets he can take it off
What they know about Eliot boils down to this: he's dangerous, doesn't like guns, loves horses, and cooks like a highly trained chef.
He knows every method of fighting ever, even the ones no one uses anymore or haven't invented yet. He refuses to let people hear him sing, he's dated a girl in every city and profession, and he despises people who hurt little kids.
"C'mon, Eliot, tell me somethin'," Hardison whines, pouting. "Anythin'. What I know about you could-uh." He pauses to think of an adequate description, so Sophie chimes in, "A teacup, Eliot. What we know about you could scarcely fill a teacup."
Eliot rolls his eyes. "I first rode a horse when I was six."
He trusts these people, he really does. But he's not quite ready to reveal too much about himself, because that only leads to getting hurt.
So, yeah, he first rode a horse when he was six. His granddaddy swung up behind him and took him to his cabin, where he made sure Eliot knew how to defend himself against anyone. But every afternoon, no matter what, Grandpa put Eliot back on that horse and told him, "This doesn't have to be your life, Eliot. If you survive long enough, you can get out, make something of yourself. You hear me, boy?"
Horses are the freedom to run. That's why Eliot loves them.
"What else?" Hardison asks.
Eliot shrugs. "Not important."
Nate studies him a moment before turning to Hardison and asking, "So, which government agency did you hack into first?"
Title: shark hunt
Fandom: Supernatural/The Magnificent Seven modern-day AU
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: none
Pairings: past Dean/Ezra, current Ezra/Vin
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 280
Point of view: third
Prompt: Dean/Ezra, two of a kind
"Got room for one more?" Dean asks, pulling up a chair and sprawling on it.
"Of course," Ezra drawls. "Gentlemen, and lovely lady, do you mind if I deal in our late-comin' friend?"
To a chorus of negatives, Ezra grins, gold tooth glinting. "What do you have for a first wager?"
Dean's own smirk is outright dangerous. "Nothin' I can't stand to lose."
Meanwhile, Sam has settled down next to a man trying to blend into the wall, hiding at least three knives and guns on his body, and asks, "Your friend do this often?"
Blue eyes that see everything and miss nothing give him a once over. "Yours?" he asks in turn.
Sam nods and sighs.
Now, the look is commiserating. "Bet you got some fine stories about games gone wrong."
Smiling, Sam says, "That I do."
o0o
After the game, which Dean wins, he and Ezra meander to the bar and Dean buys them both a round. Dean quickly takes in Sam's buddy and smirks at Ezra. "Finally found a partner?" he asks, leaning on a stool.
"I see your brother finally found his calling on the road," Ezra returns.
"I guess that means we can't get outta here and find somewhere to do somethin' fun," Dean says.
"That would be correct, Mr. Winchester," Ezra tells him, raising his glass. "Unless you want Vin to fill you full of lead."
Dean laughs. "Good for you, Ez."
Ezra smiles, not his sharking grin or his time for you to die smirk. "The years since we parted have been kind to me, Dean. Vin is…" He shrugs. "You understand."
Nodding, Dean gently taps their glasses together. "That I do."
Title: raindrops keep fallin' on my head
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: Dean’s not mine
Warnings: preseries
Pairings: none
Rating: PG, gen
Wordcount: 90
Point of view: third
Prompt: Any, "There's a saying that the rain is God's tears." "Yeah well, when I was a kid I used to say it was God peeing."
She's old and tired, and this young pup just nearly died saving her. Stupid kid, but a good one. Standing in the rain, the revenant's howls still in her ears, she tells him "My mama used to say that rain is God's tears."
She isn't surprised when he barks a laugh, bitter and sharp, and replies, "When I was a kid, rain was just God pis--uh, peein' on us."
She smiles and laughs, as well, because she may be old and tired, but she is still alive.
Title: is God crying?
Fandom: Heroes
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: future!fic
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 225
Point of view: third
Prompts: Sylar/any, yell at the tears of God
Of all the powers he's taken, this is his favorite, right up there with his beloved telekinesis.
As a boy, back when he tried to please his parents all the time, kept quiet and to himself, toiling away as an apprentice timepiece restorer, he used to watch the rain and wonder.
Now he creates the rain with his will and his might, using this precious ability better than the fool born with it. That is his gift, his innate ability to master the quirks and turns of everything he meets, and even the weather--so powerful, so great--is his to command, now.
The world is all before him.
He laughs as Peter--oh, sad, sorry Peter, look what you have wrought with your kindness, with your forgiving nature--Peter cries and pleads, begging him to stop, to set them free.
The rain is gentle, just a light spring storm, here in hurricane country. A storm is coming, though, such a storm.
"Peter," he says quietly, and Peter subsides.
Peter's ability today is Mohinder's, but Sylar has that one, too, and a hundred others besides, and he won't let Peter touch him.
"Peter," he says again. "I am become God."
He laughs, louder and longer, and Peter screams, first in fury and then in fear, because Sylar will let no other masters live.
And it rains.