comment_fic 846-850: Glee, original, SN, HP, HL
Title: untitled
Fandom: Glee
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: mentions of character death; very sad; mourning
Pairings: Rachel/Finn
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 110
Point of view: third
Prompt: Glee, Rachel/Finn, Presence.
When she can't sleep, she traces the ink of his name with a fingertip, remembering. She doesn’t cry every day anymore, but she still cries quite a bit. For so long, he was what she dreamed about, what she imagined, what she knew she would one day have - after she took Broadway by storm, after her albums went multi-platinum, after she’d won a Grammy, a Tony, and an Oscar… she would go back to him. They would finally marry, start a family.
He was all she wanted.
And now, weeping into her pillow, tracing his name, she closes her eyes and imagines their next duet, the one they’ll sing when they meet again.
Title: faded stone
Original, PG, 285 words
Warnings: mentions of spousal abuse, murder
Prompt: Author's choice, the names on the gravestones eventually fade
"Hey," she says softly, kneeling to place a single sunflower on the frosted grass. "Michal left this morning. She promised to call, but she just couldn't live in the house anymore." She laughs softly. "Davya is still seeing your ghost. I've given up explaining that it means nothing, that even if you're still here, it's not her you'd be angry at."
She stands in silence for a few moments, eyes following the words engraved on the stone. "Ryel is almost as tall as you, now. He doesn't even ask about you anymore. I'm not sure what I'd say, to be honest." She laughs again.
A quick smile crosses her face before she puts on a solemn expression. "Another year has come and gone, my love. Our children are nearly all grown, now. You missed Davya's thirteen and fourteenth birthdays; you know how important those are." She pats the stone. "Our youngest will one be as gifted I am, as my mother is."
Her laugh is loud, this time, and long. "I'm sure, though, you'd think of it differently."
She lets a few more minutes pass in silence before murmuring, "When the words on the stone fade, you will be forgotten. None of our children will ever speak your name. My sisters do not; my mother shall not. And never again will it pass my lips. You are nameless."
She pats the stone one more time. "I bled at your hands; I wept at your rage. You will pay for that, and for our children, and for the god you insulted with my pain."
Her gaze flicks to the sunflower, already wilted and rotting. "Fare thee well, darling," she murmurs, before turning and walking away.
Title: untitled
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: AU
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount:
Point of view: third
Prompt: Supernatural, Death, he has already been there for the end of so many worlds, so what is one more, really?
All worlds end, just as all worlds, once, began. Of course, the inhabitants of each world presume that they must be different, that they, above all others, are special.
Each inhabitant is unique, the same as any other. But none are better.
Death knows this. He gave up on explaining it a long time ago.
The little angel - Castiel? Oh, there are so many names - begs him to explain it again, to save this world, as thousands have begged before. Surely, the little angel cries, God cannot mean for this happen. Not this world.
If Death cared - and he has not in a very long time - he might explain that God saw the end. Of course. When they two were alone, back before the beginning. As things begin, so must they end.
No world is better than any other, and they all will end. For that reason, Death exists.
And this world's time has come. So Death bats aside the little angel, raises his scythe, and goes to work.
Title: evolution
Fandom: Harry Potter
Warnings: mentions of character death
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 52
Point of view: third
Prompt: Harry Potter, any, Hedwig
His first patronus after the final battle with Voldemort, when he could finally breathe again, after he'd slept for nearly a month, after he'd comforted and been comforted by the survivors, after the tally was taken, after everything, he watched, with tears in his eyes, as his truest, best friend flew again.
Title: the slow waking of sleeping giants
Fandom: Highlander
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: future!fic; mentions of destruction
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 180
Point of view: third
Prompt: Any, any, a friendship so strong that when one is seriously hurt/in danger, the other completely loses it
They take Joe. Adam Pierson closes his eyes, breathes slowly and deeply, burying anything but an academic, new-to-everything reaction, and turns to Duncan. "What happened?" he demands, panic in his voice.
Joe's bar is burning. Joe himself is missing.
They're being watched and Duncan, bless his heart, actually catches on in time to not give Adam away.
"We have to get out of here," Duncan says - because he has a student to protect. A child barely half a decade into The Game.
So their enemies think, whoever took Joe.
As Duncan drives away, Adam looks back. The sight sears into Methos' memory and a deathknell plays. The sacking of Troy, Alexandria's library, the fire of London...
"What do we do?" Duncan asks, now that the eyes are off of them.
"We find Joe," Methos says. His hand itches for a sword, his thighs for a horse to cling to, his soul for his brothers beside him, riding across the plains, out of the sun and into their enemies.
"We find Joe," he repeats, "and you leave the rest to me."
Fandom: Glee
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: mentions of character death; very sad; mourning
Pairings: Rachel/Finn
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 110
Point of view: third
Prompt: Glee, Rachel/Finn, Presence.
When she can't sleep, she traces the ink of his name with a fingertip, remembering. She doesn’t cry every day anymore, but she still cries quite a bit. For so long, he was what she dreamed about, what she imagined, what she knew she would one day have - after she took Broadway by storm, after her albums went multi-platinum, after she’d won a Grammy, a Tony, and an Oscar… she would go back to him. They would finally marry, start a family.
He was all she wanted.
And now, weeping into her pillow, tracing his name, she closes her eyes and imagines their next duet, the one they’ll sing when they meet again.
Title: faded stone
Original, PG, 285 words
Warnings: mentions of spousal abuse, murder
Prompt: Author's choice, the names on the gravestones eventually fade
"Hey," she says softly, kneeling to place a single sunflower on the frosted grass. "Michal left this morning. She promised to call, but she just couldn't live in the house anymore." She laughs softly. "Davya is still seeing your ghost. I've given up explaining that it means nothing, that even if you're still here, it's not her you'd be angry at."
She stands in silence for a few moments, eyes following the words engraved on the stone. "Ryel is almost as tall as you, now. He doesn't even ask about you anymore. I'm not sure what I'd say, to be honest." She laughs again.
A quick smile crosses her face before she puts on a solemn expression. "Another year has come and gone, my love. Our children are nearly all grown, now. You missed Davya's thirteen and fourteenth birthdays; you know how important those are." She pats the stone. "Our youngest will one be as gifted I am, as my mother is."
Her laugh is loud, this time, and long. "I'm sure, though, you'd think of it differently."
She lets a few more minutes pass in silence before murmuring, "When the words on the stone fade, you will be forgotten. None of our children will ever speak your name. My sisters do not; my mother shall not. And never again will it pass my lips. You are nameless."
She pats the stone one more time. "I bled at your hands; I wept at your rage. You will pay for that, and for our children, and for the god you insulted with my pain."
Her gaze flicks to the sunflower, already wilted and rotting. "Fare thee well, darling," she murmurs, before turning and walking away.
Title: untitled
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: AU
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount:
Point of view: third
Prompt: Supernatural, Death, he has already been there for the end of so many worlds, so what is one more, really?
All worlds end, just as all worlds, once, began. Of course, the inhabitants of each world presume that they must be different, that they, above all others, are special.
Each inhabitant is unique, the same as any other. But none are better.
Death knows this. He gave up on explaining it a long time ago.
The little angel - Castiel? Oh, there are so many names - begs him to explain it again, to save this world, as thousands have begged before. Surely, the little angel cries, God cannot mean for this happen. Not this world.
If Death cared - and he has not in a very long time - he might explain that God saw the end. Of course. When they two were alone, back before the beginning. As things begin, so must they end.
No world is better than any other, and they all will end. For that reason, Death exists.
And this world's time has come. So Death bats aside the little angel, raises his scythe, and goes to work.
Title: evolution
Fandom: Harry Potter
Warnings: mentions of character death
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 52
Point of view: third
Prompt: Harry Potter, any, Hedwig
His first patronus after the final battle with Voldemort, when he could finally breathe again, after he'd slept for nearly a month, after he'd comforted and been comforted by the survivors, after the tally was taken, after everything, he watched, with tears in his eyes, as his truest, best friend flew again.
Title: the slow waking of sleeping giants
Fandom: Highlander
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: future!fic; mentions of destruction
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 180
Point of view: third
Prompt: Any, any, a friendship so strong that when one is seriously hurt/in danger, the other completely loses it
They take Joe. Adam Pierson closes his eyes, breathes slowly and deeply, burying anything but an academic, new-to-everything reaction, and turns to Duncan. "What happened?" he demands, panic in his voice.
Joe's bar is burning. Joe himself is missing.
They're being watched and Duncan, bless his heart, actually catches on in time to not give Adam away.
"We have to get out of here," Duncan says - because he has a student to protect. A child barely half a decade into The Game.
So their enemies think, whoever took Joe.
As Duncan drives away, Adam looks back. The sight sears into Methos' memory and a deathknell plays. The sacking of Troy, Alexandria's library, the fire of London...
"What do we do?" Duncan asks, now that the eyes are off of them.
"We find Joe," Methos says. His hand itches for a sword, his thighs for a horse to cling to, his soul for his brothers beside him, riding across the plains, out of the sun and into their enemies.
"We find Joe," he repeats, "and you leave the rest to me."