comment_fic 1176-1180: HL, Leverage, HP, original
Title: begin again
Fandom: Highlander
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: violence/death
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 430
Point of view: third
Prompt: any, any/any, "Your definition of emergency and mine are vastly different."
Once you've lived through the collapse of Rome, most things pale in comparison.
Of course, he'd lived through worse before that, so Rome wasn't much of a bother.
.
Bank robberies, murders, witch-hunts, sieges, assassinations, plagues - he yawns his way through them and moves on.
.
Five thousand years, he tells whoever knows to ask, and has done for two thousand years.
.
A woman has a heart-attack at brunch and one of the Drs. Adams goes to work.
“Oh, thank you, thank you,” her girlfriend babbles as she and Dr. Adams hurry after the paramedics, Dr. Adams telling them what he’s already done and what he suspects the woman suffered.
“It was no problem,” he tells the girlfriend, helping her into the ambulance.
He returns to brunch, having already forgotten, but his companions from work give him a standing ovation and then the rest of the diners. It’s all anyone talks about at work for a week. He isn’t sure why.
.
Natural disasters, acts of terrorism and war, epidemics - he yawns and goes about his life.
World War I was terrible, World War II worse, and then World War III is inevitable. Such is the nature of humanity.
He lays in supplies for decades, and so when the spark is lit, he is one of the very few who isn’t much bothered as everything burns around him.
.
“Methos!” Duncan shouts, in the days before they begin rebuilding. The child is horrified at what he has witnessed, though he’d fought in both the previous two great wars. “How can we-how could they…”
The most recent book Methos read was one of his journals, from his years as one of Thales’ students. “Do you know,” he asks, watching the sun rise, as it will continue to do for millennia, as it has since before he existed, “what this means?”
“It means everything is over!” Duncan cries, looking so very young.
“No,” Methos tells him. “It means we can fashion the world as we like.”
Humanity is so innovative-never before has one war destroyed so many, so much. Not even the Horsemen…
“What?” Duncan demands, turning to face him, panicked and wary.
Never before has Methos had an opportunity on such a grand scale.
.
He is known as Marduk, in all the legends. He fashioned the world from fire and water, and he taught all the survivors of the cataclysm how to live. There was a world before, but not much is known about it.
It is not the first time Methos has been a god; it shall not be the last.
Title: the rumors of my death
Fandom: Leverage
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: violence/death
Pairings: Parker/Hardison/Eliot
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 390
Point of view: third
Prompt: Leverage, ensemble, "I thought they'd killed you. I lost my temper."
They send the video three days after they take Hardison. Eliot's got four broken ribs and a concussion so bad he's still woozy. Nate and Sophie are somewhere out in the world, living their life, and Parker doesn't want to call them in for what this is going to be.
To keep Eliot safe, she doesn't mention the video. She kisses him and says she's making a supply run and she lifts three of his knives, planning to acquire guns on the way.
.
She knows that Eliot regrets most of the people he's killed. That he never wanted any of them, Nate and Sophie included, to have blood on their hands.
But Hardison died in pain, and she's going to make sure everyone even remotely involved dies screaming.
.
She finds him barely conscious in the last room, and she will be thankful for the rest of her life that she did a room-by-room attack instead of blowing the entire building sky-high.
"Parker?" he mumbles. "Whatcha doin' here?"
"Saving you," she whispers, tearing up in relief and more joy than she'd thought possible.
.
Hardison is too out of it to mention the bodies they pass.
It'll be a few days before he'll sit up in bed, where Eliot's stretched out beside him with Parker curled up on his other side, and say, "Girl, WHAT DID YOU DO."
By that point, Eliot will have already shouted at her for nearly an hour for going in alone, and promised to listen if she ever wants to talk about what she did.
She still doesn't regret it. She knows she never will.
"I thought they'd killed you," she'll shrug. "So I killed them back."
Hardison will gape at her and then turn to Eliot, who'll shrug, too. He's always been a better person than Parker, she'll think, reaching up to pat Hardison gently on the arm. Eliot's better than her, too.
"Get back down here," Eliot will say, and Hardison mumbles to himself about what fools they are, and later, he'll be unable to meet either of their eyes as he asks that no matter what happens to him, they never do anything like that again.
They promise, of course, so that he'll sleep easily.
But Eliot looks at her, and she looks at Eliot, and there are some things that just have to be done.
Title: power (the dark lord knows not)
Fandom: Harry Potter
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: AUish, death/violence, dark
Pairings: none
Rating: 365
Point of view: third
Prompt: Any, any, "He'll kill you, and then he'll go to work on you."
The second worst thing that ever happened in the world was that Harry Potter held all three Deathly Hallows at the same time, and that he walked to his death, knowingly and with acceptance.
The worst thing was that when given the chance, he returned to life.
Because when he was young, Harry Potter learned that if he wanted anything done, he needed to do it himself, and because when he was young, Harry Potter learned there was no one he could trust or rely on for anything. Because when he was young, Harry Potter was not given love of any sort, or even much kindness. He was not given gentle touches, or forgiveness.
Because when he was young, Harry Potter learned that the world was hard and he needed to be harder still to survive, and because Harry Potter learned that he would survive, if only out of spite.
Seven years of being hated and adored, idolized and feared, in cycles he quickly learned to predict, did not do anything except reinforce what he spent a decade learning.
An old man declaring the power the Dark Lord knew not to be love, of all the ridiculous things, taught Harry Potter one final lesson that the Headmaster probably did not intend.
Harry Potter stared down at Voldemort's corpse and then looked out over the survivors of the battle, and his eyes were as green as the gentlest way there was to kill.
The worst thing that ever happened in the world was that Harry Potter returned to life because men were not designed to hold the power of a god. He did not go mad with the power; he did not remake the world as he willed.
He had forever, after all. He had time, which he could bend and stretch as he wished, curiosity he had never been able to sate, and patience he learned when he was young.
Perhaps most would not think it to be the worst thing to ever happen in the world-they are the ones he granted the mercy of dying.
Because there are worse things than death, and Death's Master had eternity to explore them all.
Title: The Worst of Us
Fandom: Highlander
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: references to violence/death
Pairings: none stated
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 130
Point of view: third
Prompt: any, any +/ any, The Worst of Us
Most would assume it was Caspian, mad as he was, blood-thirsty and ever hungry, who wanted only to slaughter whatever he could catch, who left an ocean of blood from one side of the continent to the other.
Or perhaps Silas, simple as he was, who followed orders without thought, who killed humans indiscriminately but was gentle with beasts.
Or surely Kronos, who is immortalized in so many legends as a demon or a tyrant, who wanted to rule the world, or destroy it, depending on the day.
Not Methos. Of course not. Methos is the good one, the one who left, the one who has lived quietly for three thousand years.
Not Methos.
(The pen is mightier, so they say. He who writes the world rules it.)
Title: snail mail
Written: November 23, 2015
Prompt: any. any. The empty house stands in silence.
I checked the mail today -
Remember how we used to laugh about snails?
Yeah, I do too, and it hurts
Just as much as I knew it would.
Anyway, what I wanted to tell you
Is that a package came for you.
I opened it, of course,
What’d you think I’d do?
Were you watching as I pulled
Out that stack of books,
As I flipped through the pages,
Hearing you in every word
I couldn’t help but read?
Were you watching as I began to cry -
I swear there was something in my eye.
Were you watching as I piled them back
In and shoved that box away,
As I went to the bed that isn’t ours anymore
And buried my face in a pillow
That doesn’t smell like you anymore,
As I breathed and breathed
Waiting for you -
But you’re gone and you’re never coming home.
.
I just wanted to tell you.
Every time I think I’m finally used
To this hollow feeling in my chest,
To the fact I’ll never hear your laugh again,
To the fact that I’ll reach for you and you can’t reach back,
Something happens and I’m gutted again.
.
Anyway, I checked the mail today.
I’ll read every one of those stupid books.
I’ll leave them behind when I move away
Because the sale was finalized today.
We laughed and loved in every room
And I can’t take the pain.
I’ll leave the books for you, I promise.
I know you wouldn’t blame me.
Are you watching me?
I can’t take the memories anymore.
.
The pillow doesn’t smell like you.
I haven’t watched any of our videos since.
I miss you.
I just wanted to tell you.
Fandom: Highlander
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: violence/death
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 430
Point of view: third
Prompt: any, any/any, "Your definition of emergency and mine are vastly different."
Once you've lived through the collapse of Rome, most things pale in comparison.
Of course, he'd lived through worse before that, so Rome wasn't much of a bother.
.
Bank robberies, murders, witch-hunts, sieges, assassinations, plagues - he yawns his way through them and moves on.
.
Five thousand years, he tells whoever knows to ask, and has done for two thousand years.
.
A woman has a heart-attack at brunch and one of the Drs. Adams goes to work.
“Oh, thank you, thank you,” her girlfriend babbles as she and Dr. Adams hurry after the paramedics, Dr. Adams telling them what he’s already done and what he suspects the woman suffered.
“It was no problem,” he tells the girlfriend, helping her into the ambulance.
He returns to brunch, having already forgotten, but his companions from work give him a standing ovation and then the rest of the diners. It’s all anyone talks about at work for a week. He isn’t sure why.
.
Natural disasters, acts of terrorism and war, epidemics - he yawns and goes about his life.
World War I was terrible, World War II worse, and then World War III is inevitable. Such is the nature of humanity.
He lays in supplies for decades, and so when the spark is lit, he is one of the very few who isn’t much bothered as everything burns around him.
.
“Methos!” Duncan shouts, in the days before they begin rebuilding. The child is horrified at what he has witnessed, though he’d fought in both the previous two great wars. “How can we-how could they…”
The most recent book Methos read was one of his journals, from his years as one of Thales’ students. “Do you know,” he asks, watching the sun rise, as it will continue to do for millennia, as it has since before he existed, “what this means?”
“It means everything is over!” Duncan cries, looking so very young.
“No,” Methos tells him. “It means we can fashion the world as we like.”
Humanity is so innovative-never before has one war destroyed so many, so much. Not even the Horsemen…
“What?” Duncan demands, turning to face him, panicked and wary.
Never before has Methos had an opportunity on such a grand scale.
.
He is known as Marduk, in all the legends. He fashioned the world from fire and water, and he taught all the survivors of the cataclysm how to live. There was a world before, but not much is known about it.
It is not the first time Methos has been a god; it shall not be the last.
Title: the rumors of my death
Fandom: Leverage
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: violence/death
Pairings: Parker/Hardison/Eliot
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 390
Point of view: third
Prompt: Leverage, ensemble, "I thought they'd killed you. I lost my temper."
They send the video three days after they take Hardison. Eliot's got four broken ribs and a concussion so bad he's still woozy. Nate and Sophie are somewhere out in the world, living their life, and Parker doesn't want to call them in for what this is going to be.
To keep Eliot safe, she doesn't mention the video. She kisses him and says she's making a supply run and she lifts three of his knives, planning to acquire guns on the way.
.
She knows that Eliot regrets most of the people he's killed. That he never wanted any of them, Nate and Sophie included, to have blood on their hands.
But Hardison died in pain, and she's going to make sure everyone even remotely involved dies screaming.
.
She finds him barely conscious in the last room, and she will be thankful for the rest of her life that she did a room-by-room attack instead of blowing the entire building sky-high.
"Parker?" he mumbles. "Whatcha doin' here?"
"Saving you," she whispers, tearing up in relief and more joy than she'd thought possible.
.
Hardison is too out of it to mention the bodies they pass.
It'll be a few days before he'll sit up in bed, where Eliot's stretched out beside him with Parker curled up on his other side, and say, "Girl, WHAT DID YOU DO."
By that point, Eliot will have already shouted at her for nearly an hour for going in alone, and promised to listen if she ever wants to talk about what she did.
She still doesn't regret it. She knows she never will.
"I thought they'd killed you," she'll shrug. "So I killed them back."
Hardison will gape at her and then turn to Eliot, who'll shrug, too. He's always been a better person than Parker, she'll think, reaching up to pat Hardison gently on the arm. Eliot's better than her, too.
"Get back down here," Eliot will say, and Hardison mumbles to himself about what fools they are, and later, he'll be unable to meet either of their eyes as he asks that no matter what happens to him, they never do anything like that again.
They promise, of course, so that he'll sleep easily.
But Eliot looks at her, and she looks at Eliot, and there are some things that just have to be done.
Title: power (the dark lord knows not)
Fandom: Harry Potter
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: AUish, death/violence, dark
Pairings: none
Rating: 365
Point of view: third
Prompt: Any, any, "He'll kill you, and then he'll go to work on you."
The second worst thing that ever happened in the world was that Harry Potter held all three Deathly Hallows at the same time, and that he walked to his death, knowingly and with acceptance.
The worst thing was that when given the chance, he returned to life.
Because when he was young, Harry Potter learned that if he wanted anything done, he needed to do it himself, and because when he was young, Harry Potter learned there was no one he could trust or rely on for anything. Because when he was young, Harry Potter was not given love of any sort, or even much kindness. He was not given gentle touches, or forgiveness.
Because when he was young, Harry Potter learned that the world was hard and he needed to be harder still to survive, and because Harry Potter learned that he would survive, if only out of spite.
Seven years of being hated and adored, idolized and feared, in cycles he quickly learned to predict, did not do anything except reinforce what he spent a decade learning.
An old man declaring the power the Dark Lord knew not to be love, of all the ridiculous things, taught Harry Potter one final lesson that the Headmaster probably did not intend.
Harry Potter stared down at Voldemort's corpse and then looked out over the survivors of the battle, and his eyes were as green as the gentlest way there was to kill.
The worst thing that ever happened in the world was that Harry Potter returned to life because men were not designed to hold the power of a god. He did not go mad with the power; he did not remake the world as he willed.
He had forever, after all. He had time, which he could bend and stretch as he wished, curiosity he had never been able to sate, and patience he learned when he was young.
Perhaps most would not think it to be the worst thing to ever happen in the world-they are the ones he granted the mercy of dying.
Because there are worse things than death, and Death's Master had eternity to explore them all.
Title: The Worst of Us
Fandom: Highlander
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: references to violence/death
Pairings: none stated
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 130
Point of view: third
Prompt: any, any +/ any, The Worst of Us
Most would assume it was Caspian, mad as he was, blood-thirsty and ever hungry, who wanted only to slaughter whatever he could catch, who left an ocean of blood from one side of the continent to the other.
Or perhaps Silas, simple as he was, who followed orders without thought, who killed humans indiscriminately but was gentle with beasts.
Or surely Kronos, who is immortalized in so many legends as a demon or a tyrant, who wanted to rule the world, or destroy it, depending on the day.
Not Methos. Of course not. Methos is the good one, the one who left, the one who has lived quietly for three thousand years.
Not Methos.
(The pen is mightier, so they say. He who writes the world rules it.)
Title: snail mail
Written: November 23, 2015
Prompt: any. any. The empty house stands in silence.
I checked the mail today -
Remember how we used to laugh about snails?
Yeah, I do too, and it hurts
Just as much as I knew it would.
Anyway, what I wanted to tell you
Is that a package came for you.
I opened it, of course,
What’d you think I’d do?
Were you watching as I pulled
Out that stack of books,
As I flipped through the pages,
Hearing you in every word
I couldn’t help but read?
Were you watching as I began to cry -
I swear there was something in my eye.
Were you watching as I piled them back
In and shoved that box away,
As I went to the bed that isn’t ours anymore
And buried my face in a pillow
That doesn’t smell like you anymore,
As I breathed and breathed
Waiting for you -
But you’re gone and you’re never coming home.
.
I just wanted to tell you.
Every time I think I’m finally used
To this hollow feeling in my chest,
To the fact I’ll never hear your laugh again,
To the fact that I’ll reach for you and you can’t reach back,
Something happens and I’m gutted again.
.
Anyway, I checked the mail today.
I’ll read every one of those stupid books.
I’ll leave them behind when I move away
Because the sale was finalized today.
We laughed and loved in every room
And I can’t take the pain.
I’ll leave the books for you, I promise.
I know you wouldn’t blame me.
Are you watching me?
I can’t take the memories anymore.
.
The pillow doesn’t smell like you.
I haven’t watched any of our videos since.
I miss you.
I just wanted to tell you.