comment_fic 1132 - 1136: Leverage, RPF/SGA, DCU, Tortall
Title: of thieves and hoards
Fandom: Leverage
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: none
Pairings: Sophie/Nate
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 290
Point of view: third
Prompt: any. any supernatural character. Passing as human.
Prequel to this
"You're quite good, you know," Sophie tells him one day while they're sharing breakfast in Nate's apartment. Nate's still upstairs sleeping off a hangover, and Hardison and Parker haven't come in yet, but it's become habit for Eliot to fix breakfast for everyone. It's not like he needs to sleep in, and it helps remind him that he's human. Mostly.
"At what?" he asks, because he's quite good at lots of things.
"I was born a dragon," Sophie says, which is common knowledge amongst the crew. "I haven't tried to hide it in a long time-longer than you've been alive, probably, and perhaps longer than your parents lived, or theirs." She smiles, lifting the mug of tea to her lips, letting just a hint of fang show.
Humans smile with their teeth. Other things don't because it's a threat.
"As I said," she repeats, curled gracefully in the chair, hair and make-up perfect even though she's wearing Nate's shirt and a loose pair of sweats, "you're quite good." She reaches out to gently pat his hand. "I won't tell."
Hardison practically falls through the door, Parker clinging to his back, and Sophie sips her tea while Eliot turns back to the stove.
She never brings it up again. The longer he's with the crew, the more he feels like he can tell them the truth.
Title: I wrote you a song with the words you spoke
Fandom: RPF/Stargate Atlantis
Disclaimer: the fictional characters aren’t mine and all the real people belong to themselves; title from “Where Do Broken Hearts Go?”
Warnings: future!fic for SGA; AU for One Direction (obviously); references to genocide, the wraith eating people, and Louis’ entire family dying
Pairings: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 285
Point of view: third
Prompt: any. any. The last of their kind.
In this ‘verse
He tells the Legend-Keeper all of the Songs he remembers, allows the orb to record them all. He shares stories of his childhood, of his games with his sisters, with their neighbors, with the children of the town. There were many towns, and all would gather for the Festival of Music, for the Ancestors' Remembrance, in celebration for a new Song of Naming.
Only in hindsight has he realized how happy an existence it was.
He is the only one left. He knows it deep in his bones. The profound silence. He had hoped, when he ran-but even as he hoped, he knew. He simply did not allow himself to think it.
Every night, curled around Harry, he murmurs the Songs of Mourning, of Remembrance, of Grief and Acceptance. He sobs his way through his sisters' Songs of Naming, because he'd been there for them all. Harry never asks for an explanation, simply cries with him, so warm and strong and gentle.
A year after he first spoke to his Hazza, half a year after Harry gifts him with a new Song of Naming, Louis tells Heir Sheppard, holding Harry's hand tight in his, "I'd like to visit my homeworld."
He is the last. He has Sung the rites on many worlds, hoping that his people found peace. But he needs to Sing the Songs at home, because he himself will never know true peace until he has.
"Alright," Heir Sheppard says. "Let's choose a team and get things started."
Louis nods, his entire body trembling, and Harry leans into him, humming the Song that Louis used to soothe his sisters with.
He is the last, yes, but he's no longer alone.
Title: could’ves
Fandom: DCU animated
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: references to underaged kissing; violence
Pairings: unrequited(?) Jason/Bruce
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 200
Point of view: third
Prompt: DCU, Bruce Wayne/Jason Todd, Maybe I would have been /Something you'd be good at /Maybe you would have been /Something I'd be good at
“Do you ever think about what might’ve happened if you hadn’t caught me that night?” Jason asks. “Or, I’d picked any other car to steal the tires from.”
“I don’t focus on what-ifs,” Bruce growls, ‘cause he’s dressed like Batman.
He’s always Batman, but Jason thinks he prefers it when Bruce isn’t wearing the cowl. It’s easier to pretend, then.
“I think about what-ifs a lot,” Jason admits.
Bruce hasn’t looked up once, watching as the useless police arrest everyone he beat the shit out of tonight. They’d be dead, if Batman had been even a minute later.
“What if we’d met later?” Jason asks. “When I was older?”
The way he was going, he’d be one of the criminals Batman beats the shit out of regularly. Or maybe, he’d have found his way off the streets, back into school, out of Gotham.
“Another pointless what-if,” Bruce growls. “Get off the street tonight, Red Hood.”
… so Jason pushed a button, then.
“You remember that time I tried to kiss you, ‘cause I thought it was what you wanted me for?” he asks, not flinching when Batman whirls around to glare through the cowl.
Batman jumps off the roof.
So, yes.
Title: untitled
Fandom: Tortall - Protector of the Small
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: none
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 135
Prompt: Tortall, Kel/any, sweet, sweet kisses
Tobe doesn't remember his mother kissing him, so he assumes she didn't. Auld Alma wasn't very motherly either, so he isn't sure how to handle the way the Lady treats him.
It's fair obvious she doesn't know how to handle it, either, and when he meets Lalasa, he asks her about it.
She shrugs and then orders him to hold still while she finishes his measurements.
(He gets sick, after the war. After they're all home safe, and the Lady isn't executed or banished for being a traitor. He gets sick and takes to bed, though he tries to fight it, and while they're waiting for a healer, him and the Lady, she washes his forehead and face with a cool cloth, and she presses a kiss to his hair, and she murmurs, "You'll be fine, Tobe.")
Title: in vino veritas
Fandom: Leverage
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: references to child abuse, substance abuse
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 225
Point of view: third
Prompt: Leverage, Eliot+any, He always stops after two beers
He knows what the team thinks. Quite a few people have other the years. It's obvious in the sad look Sophie gets in her eyes, especially after that MMA job, and the way Hardison always softens when Eliot's around kids. It's in the gentle way Parker touches him sometimes, how she's careful to move slowly.
Eliot wasn't abused. Not physically, anyway. But he always tracks how much alcohol Nate's had, and he always stops himself after two. He wasn't hit, he wasn't beat, he wasn't bruised.
The team thinks his father was a monster, at least until the ValueMart job, when Hardison listens to Eliot talk about his father's store.
He has a sister; she's living in New Hampshire with her son. Eliot hasn't seen either of them in years. She's older than him. She wasn't home much when he was young. She wasn't there when Gran moved in, Gran with her wine.
No, Eliot wasn't beaten by his father, or smacked by his mother. But he learned quickly that alcohol loosens tongues, and painful truths will fall right out.
Eliot can take physical pain. But words will scar so deep, the wound might never heal. So he watches when people drink, keeps track, and he gets in-between whoever he needs to.
He never drinks more than two. He's always been a quick learner.
Fandom: Leverage
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: none
Pairings: Sophie/Nate
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 290
Point of view: third
Prompt: any. any supernatural character. Passing as human.
Prequel to this
"You're quite good, you know," Sophie tells him one day while they're sharing breakfast in Nate's apartment. Nate's still upstairs sleeping off a hangover, and Hardison and Parker haven't come in yet, but it's become habit for Eliot to fix breakfast for everyone. It's not like he needs to sleep in, and it helps remind him that he's human. Mostly.
"At what?" he asks, because he's quite good at lots of things.
"I was born a dragon," Sophie says, which is common knowledge amongst the crew. "I haven't tried to hide it in a long time-longer than you've been alive, probably, and perhaps longer than your parents lived, or theirs." She smiles, lifting the mug of tea to her lips, letting just a hint of fang show.
Humans smile with their teeth. Other things don't because it's a threat.
"As I said," she repeats, curled gracefully in the chair, hair and make-up perfect even though she's wearing Nate's shirt and a loose pair of sweats, "you're quite good." She reaches out to gently pat his hand. "I won't tell."
Hardison practically falls through the door, Parker clinging to his back, and Sophie sips her tea while Eliot turns back to the stove.
She never brings it up again. The longer he's with the crew, the more he feels like he can tell them the truth.
Title: I wrote you a song with the words you spoke
Fandom: RPF/Stargate Atlantis
Disclaimer: the fictional characters aren’t mine and all the real people belong to themselves; title from “Where Do Broken Hearts Go?”
Warnings: future!fic for SGA; AU for One Direction (obviously); references to genocide, the wraith eating people, and Louis’ entire family dying
Pairings: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 285
Point of view: third
Prompt: any. any. The last of their kind.
In this ‘verse
He tells the Legend-Keeper all of the Songs he remembers, allows the orb to record them all. He shares stories of his childhood, of his games with his sisters, with their neighbors, with the children of the town. There were many towns, and all would gather for the Festival of Music, for the Ancestors' Remembrance, in celebration for a new Song of Naming.
Only in hindsight has he realized how happy an existence it was.
He is the only one left. He knows it deep in his bones. The profound silence. He had hoped, when he ran-but even as he hoped, he knew. He simply did not allow himself to think it.
Every night, curled around Harry, he murmurs the Songs of Mourning, of Remembrance, of Grief and Acceptance. He sobs his way through his sisters' Songs of Naming, because he'd been there for them all. Harry never asks for an explanation, simply cries with him, so warm and strong and gentle.
A year after he first spoke to his Hazza, half a year after Harry gifts him with a new Song of Naming, Louis tells Heir Sheppard, holding Harry's hand tight in his, "I'd like to visit my homeworld."
He is the last. He has Sung the rites on many worlds, hoping that his people found peace. But he needs to Sing the Songs at home, because he himself will never know true peace until he has.
"Alright," Heir Sheppard says. "Let's choose a team and get things started."
Louis nods, his entire body trembling, and Harry leans into him, humming the Song that Louis used to soothe his sisters with.
He is the last, yes, but he's no longer alone.
Title: could’ves
Fandom: DCU animated
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: references to underaged kissing; violence
Pairings: unrequited(?) Jason/Bruce
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 200
Point of view: third
Prompt: DCU, Bruce Wayne/Jason Todd, Maybe I would have been /Something you'd be good at /Maybe you would have been /Something I'd be good at
“Do you ever think about what might’ve happened if you hadn’t caught me that night?” Jason asks. “Or, I’d picked any other car to steal the tires from.”
“I don’t focus on what-ifs,” Bruce growls, ‘cause he’s dressed like Batman.
He’s always Batman, but Jason thinks he prefers it when Bruce isn’t wearing the cowl. It’s easier to pretend, then.
“I think about what-ifs a lot,” Jason admits.
Bruce hasn’t looked up once, watching as the useless police arrest everyone he beat the shit out of tonight. They’d be dead, if Batman had been even a minute later.
“What if we’d met later?” Jason asks. “When I was older?”
The way he was going, he’d be one of the criminals Batman beats the shit out of regularly. Or maybe, he’d have found his way off the streets, back into school, out of Gotham.
“Another pointless what-if,” Bruce growls. “Get off the street tonight, Red Hood.”
… so Jason pushed a button, then.
“You remember that time I tried to kiss you, ‘cause I thought it was what you wanted me for?” he asks, not flinching when Batman whirls around to glare through the cowl.
Batman jumps off the roof.
So, yes.
Title: untitled
Fandom: Tortall - Protector of the Small
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: none
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 135
Prompt: Tortall, Kel/any, sweet, sweet kisses
Tobe doesn't remember his mother kissing him, so he assumes she didn't. Auld Alma wasn't very motherly either, so he isn't sure how to handle the way the Lady treats him.
It's fair obvious she doesn't know how to handle it, either, and when he meets Lalasa, he asks her about it.
She shrugs and then orders him to hold still while she finishes his measurements.
(He gets sick, after the war. After they're all home safe, and the Lady isn't executed or banished for being a traitor. He gets sick and takes to bed, though he tries to fight it, and while they're waiting for a healer, him and the Lady, she washes his forehead and face with a cool cloth, and she presses a kiss to his hair, and she murmurs, "You'll be fine, Tobe.")
Title: in vino veritas
Fandom: Leverage
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: references to child abuse, substance abuse
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 225
Point of view: third
Prompt: Leverage, Eliot+any, He always stops after two beers
He knows what the team thinks. Quite a few people have other the years. It's obvious in the sad look Sophie gets in her eyes, especially after that MMA job, and the way Hardison always softens when Eliot's around kids. It's in the gentle way Parker touches him sometimes, how she's careful to move slowly.
Eliot wasn't abused. Not physically, anyway. But he always tracks how much alcohol Nate's had, and he always stops himself after two. He wasn't hit, he wasn't beat, he wasn't bruised.
The team thinks his father was a monster, at least until the ValueMart job, when Hardison listens to Eliot talk about his father's store.
He has a sister; she's living in New Hampshire with her son. Eliot hasn't seen either of them in years. She's older than him. She wasn't home much when he was young. She wasn't there when Gran moved in, Gran with her wine.
No, Eliot wasn't beaten by his father, or smacked by his mother. But he learned quickly that alcohol loosens tongues, and painful truths will fall right out.
Eliot can take physical pain. But words will scar so deep, the wound might never heal. So he watches when people drink, keeps track, and he gets in-between whoever he needs to.
He never drinks more than two. He's always been a quick learner.