comment_fic 791-795: WC, HL, SG-1, Merlin, HP
Title: scenes of a life
Fandom: White Collar
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: takes place sometime in season 3
Pairings: Peter/Elizabeth
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 185
Prompt: White Collar, Neal&Peter friendship, Neal realizes there's a picture of him and Peter on Peter's desk at work
It's in a simple wooden frame, squeezed in-between Peter and El's wedding picture and a 4x6 family portrait from Peter's teenage years. Peter's giving Neal that how are you a real thing? look and Neal's laughing, head thrown back and hand on Peter's arm.
Neither of them noticed when Elizabeth took it, but she gave it to Peter last Christmas, while Neal was sulking at June's loft because some pissy head honcho at the FBI shrunk his radius for a week that just happened to include Christmas Eve to New Year's Day.
(After opening one present each [which included the picture], Peter and Elizabeth shared a nod, got dressed, and headed to Neal.)
Neal didn't know about the picture. He didn't notice it for three days; it replaced a snapshot of Peter and Kramer, and that's what finally makes him see it: no more Kramer on Peter's desk. (Not that either of them realize, yet, what Kramer will do to them.)
Peter expects to be teased, when Neal notices. But Neal just blinks, and smiles, and doesn't get in trouble for the rest of the day.
Title: the day that came before
Fandom: Highlander
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: truly horrific things implied
Pairings: none
Rating: PG13
Wordcount: 420
Point of view: third
Prompt: Any, any, if history is written by the winners, the losers aren't always bad guys - just the other guys.
And what will you write of us, brother? Kronos asked once, on a bloody plain, body still healing, while Caspian ate the dead and Silas soothed the surviving horses.
Methos had smiled and stretched up to the sky.
.
Methos is not evil. Honestly, no matter what Cassandra cries about, throwing herself fully into her hatred, into her grief and her rage - she lives still.
No, he is not evil.
He is Death. Maybe that's an allegory or a metaphor or just a name he pulled on once, swinging a sword and becoming terror that stalked every land...
Or, mayhap, once, long ago when gods roamed and magic shuddered in everything, immortals were something more.
.
Methos writes. Journals, diaries, chronicles, histories, text books, manuals, letters, codes... in every language he knows, he has written. In every land he has traveled to, he has written. In every era, every age, every form of writing.
Methos is history's oldest survivor. Methos is history's oldest storyteller.
… Methos is history's oldest liar. (And that's the truth.)
.
There was a man, long ago, who saw a rider on a pale horse. He followed a white, red, and black horse. The man fell down in terror as they passed him by.
He wrote of what he saw that day, when he lived and so many others died.
He wrote and it became legend.
.
The longest time ago, Methos opened his eyes. The world had ended and begun anew, the terrible lizards giving away to tiny furred things, and Methos, as always, evolved.
Methos is always evolving.
Death cannot die and that's the greatest trick of all.
.
And what will you write of us, brother? Kronos asked after another battle, this time amongst a field of corpses and slaves.
Methos gazed out over their newly-conquered territory, mountains on one side and forest on the other, at the cowering peasants and the chieftain in Caspian's grasp, and he said, Only the most interesting things.
Kronos had laughed and gone to pick his favorites of the women.
Methos watched a man in the distance, crawling away.
.
Methos writes because he can. He wants to. He's some of the most well-known authors in existence and the ones no one can remember.
History is just words and how they are interpreted. History is written by the victors because nobody cares what the losers have to say. No one remembers the names of the also-rans.
.
There is much Methos does not remember but there is more he does.
He writes none of it.
Title: untitled
Fandom: Stargate: SG-1
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: brief thoughts of death
Pairings: none
Rating: PGish
Wordcount: 75
Point of view: third
Prompt: Stargate: SG-1, author's choice, jet lag
He's always so tired after he gets home. It's not so bad, while everything is happening, while adrenaline is pumping through him and making him faster, stronger, smarter -
But then he's home, in the room he barely spends any time in, looking at all the work that piles up while he's off saving the galaxy, and he wishes (just for the briefest moment, just for a single heartbeat) that he hadn't made it back (again).
Title: starless
Disclaimer: Merlin isn't mine
Warnings: modern-day; implied character deaths
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 72
Point of view: third
Prompt: Merlin, any, on his knees
He bows to one soul in all of existence.
The children ringing him now, in a circle of ash and light, of blood (innocent, young, full of power, full of waste), these foolish foolish children of the godless time should realize what is not penned, what is not kept, what can never be chained.
Merlin is magic, bright as a star and just as cold, and he bows to none of them.
Title: terrible, yes, but great
Disclaimer: not my characters; title and summary from Sorcerer's Stone
Warnings: AU; mentions of child abuse
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 200
Point of view: third
Prompt: Harry Potter, Harry Potter, he gets sorted into Slytherin
Power is something Harry Potter has never had.
.
Hagrid and Ron both talk about Slytherin and Gryffindor, how bad wizards are always one and good wizards the other.
Harry Potter's parents were in Gryffindor.
... Harry Potter's parents are dead.
.
Ollivander said terrible, yes, but he also said great.
.
Your choice, Harry Potter, the Hat murmurs, and an entire hall waits with bated breath.
.
Years of slavery, of hiding his potential, of biting his tongue and clenching his fists, of closing his eyes and bowing his head.
Years.
Harry Potter doesn't remember ever being a child. He remembers pain and fear, uncomforted tears, and so much anger he choked on it, time and again and again and again.
The Boy Who Lived, the hero of all of those books - maybe he was real, once, years ago. Before the Dursleys. Before his only family in the world tried beating out of him magic he didn't know he had.
Harry Potter's parents were in Gryffindor. Maybe if they had raised him, so would he be.
.
You can become magnificent, the Hat promises, before shouting Harry Potter's choice to the world.
.
Power is something Harry Potter will never be without again.
Fandom: White Collar
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: takes place sometime in season 3
Pairings: Peter/Elizabeth
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 185
Prompt: White Collar, Neal&Peter friendship, Neal realizes there's a picture of him and Peter on Peter's desk at work
It's in a simple wooden frame, squeezed in-between Peter and El's wedding picture and a 4x6 family portrait from Peter's teenage years. Peter's giving Neal that how are you a real thing? look and Neal's laughing, head thrown back and hand on Peter's arm.
Neither of them noticed when Elizabeth took it, but she gave it to Peter last Christmas, while Neal was sulking at June's loft because some pissy head honcho at the FBI shrunk his radius for a week that just happened to include Christmas Eve to New Year's Day.
(After opening one present each [which included the picture], Peter and Elizabeth shared a nod, got dressed, and headed to Neal.)
Neal didn't know about the picture. He didn't notice it for three days; it replaced a snapshot of Peter and Kramer, and that's what finally makes him see it: no more Kramer on Peter's desk. (Not that either of them realize, yet, what Kramer will do to them.)
Peter expects to be teased, when Neal notices. But Neal just blinks, and smiles, and doesn't get in trouble for the rest of the day.
Title: the day that came before
Fandom: Highlander
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: truly horrific things implied
Pairings: none
Rating: PG13
Wordcount: 420
Point of view: third
Prompt: Any, any, if history is written by the winners, the losers aren't always bad guys - just the other guys.
And what will you write of us, brother? Kronos asked once, on a bloody plain, body still healing, while Caspian ate the dead and Silas soothed the surviving horses.
Methos had smiled and stretched up to the sky.
.
Methos is not evil. Honestly, no matter what Cassandra cries about, throwing herself fully into her hatred, into her grief and her rage - she lives still.
No, he is not evil.
He is Death. Maybe that's an allegory or a metaphor or just a name he pulled on once, swinging a sword and becoming terror that stalked every land...
Or, mayhap, once, long ago when gods roamed and magic shuddered in everything, immortals were something more.
.
Methos writes. Journals, diaries, chronicles, histories, text books, manuals, letters, codes... in every language he knows, he has written. In every land he has traveled to, he has written. In every era, every age, every form of writing.
Methos is history's oldest survivor. Methos is history's oldest storyteller.
… Methos is history's oldest liar. (And that's the truth.)
.
There was a man, long ago, who saw a rider on a pale horse. He followed a white, red, and black horse. The man fell down in terror as they passed him by.
He wrote of what he saw that day, when he lived and so many others died.
He wrote and it became legend.
.
The longest time ago, Methos opened his eyes. The world had ended and begun anew, the terrible lizards giving away to tiny furred things, and Methos, as always, evolved.
Methos is always evolving.
Death cannot die and that's the greatest trick of all.
.
And what will you write of us, brother? Kronos asked after another battle, this time amongst a field of corpses and slaves.
Methos gazed out over their newly-conquered territory, mountains on one side and forest on the other, at the cowering peasants and the chieftain in Caspian's grasp, and he said, Only the most interesting things.
Kronos had laughed and gone to pick his favorites of the women.
Methos watched a man in the distance, crawling away.
.
Methos writes because he can. He wants to. He's some of the most well-known authors in existence and the ones no one can remember.
History is just words and how they are interpreted. History is written by the victors because nobody cares what the losers have to say. No one remembers the names of the also-rans.
.
There is much Methos does not remember but there is more he does.
He writes none of it.
Title: untitled
Fandom: Stargate: SG-1
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: brief thoughts of death
Pairings: none
Rating: PGish
Wordcount: 75
Point of view: third
Prompt: Stargate: SG-1, author's choice, jet lag
He's always so tired after he gets home. It's not so bad, while everything is happening, while adrenaline is pumping through him and making him faster, stronger, smarter -
But then he's home, in the room he barely spends any time in, looking at all the work that piles up while he's off saving the galaxy, and he wishes (just for the briefest moment, just for a single heartbeat) that he hadn't made it back (again).
Title: starless
Disclaimer: Merlin isn't mine
Warnings: modern-day; implied character deaths
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 72
Point of view: third
Prompt: Merlin, any, on his knees
He bows to one soul in all of existence.
The children ringing him now, in a circle of ash and light, of blood (innocent, young, full of power, full of waste), these foolish foolish children of the godless time should realize what is not penned, what is not kept, what can never be chained.
Merlin is magic, bright as a star and just as cold, and he bows to none of them.
Title: terrible, yes, but great
Disclaimer: not my characters; title and summary from Sorcerer's Stone
Warnings: AU; mentions of child abuse
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 200
Point of view: third
Prompt: Harry Potter, Harry Potter, he gets sorted into Slytherin
Power is something Harry Potter has never had.
.
Hagrid and Ron both talk about Slytherin and Gryffindor, how bad wizards are always one and good wizards the other.
Harry Potter's parents were in Gryffindor.
... Harry Potter's parents are dead.
.
Ollivander said terrible, yes, but he also said great.
.
Your choice, Harry Potter, the Hat murmurs, and an entire hall waits with bated breath.
.
Years of slavery, of hiding his potential, of biting his tongue and clenching his fists, of closing his eyes and bowing his head.
Years.
Harry Potter doesn't remember ever being a child. He remembers pain and fear, uncomforted tears, and so much anger he choked on it, time and again and again and again.
The Boy Who Lived, the hero of all of those books - maybe he was real, once, years ago. Before the Dursleys. Before his only family in the world tried beating out of him magic he didn't know he had.
Harry Potter's parents were in Gryffindor. Maybe if they had raised him, so would he be.
.
You can become magnificent, the Hat promises, before shouting Harry Potter's choice to the world.
.
Power is something Harry Potter will never be without again.