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tigriswolf) wrote2009-02-04 04:25 pm
- actor: david hewlett,
- actor: jared padalecki,
- actor: jeffrey dean morgan,
- actor: jensen ackles,
- actor: jesse spencer,
- actor: joe flanigan,
- fanfic: my bloody valentine,
- fanfic: stargate atlantis,
- fanfic: stranded,
- fanfic: supernatural,
- gen,
- movie fic,
- point of view: castiel,
- point of view: dean winchester,
- point of view: fritz robinson,
- point of view: third person,
- point of view: tom hanniger,
- rated pg,
- series: elemental!sga,
- title: a,
- title: i,
- title: w,
- tv fic,
- type: multichap,
- type: oneshot,
- type: past tense,
- type: present tense,
- wordcount: drabble,
- wordcount: drabble plus
drabbles: SN, Stranded, MBV, SGA
Title: is it water, indeed, or air, or light?
Fandom: "Supernatural"
Disclaimer: not my characters; just for fun. Title from Denise Levertov.
Warnings: future!fic; spoilers for “Heaven and Hell”
Pairings: none stated
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 630
Point of view: third
Notes: thanks to![[info]](https://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
sadelyrate for reading over this
You see what is in him, Uriel says, wings wrapped tightly around him.
I know what he is, Castiel replies. I know what he could be.
And that is enough? Uriel’s voice is disbelieving, full of doubt.
Yes. Castiel nods. That is enough.
o0o
She is dressed as a pale, petite brunette, and Castiel buys her a drink at the bar. Well, now, she drawls, angling her body in a seductive pose that is useless. Funny meeting you here.
You must take better care, he tells her. You let Alistair get too close.
She scoffs, draining down the alcohol. Keep your criticisms to yourself, wing-boy. I was alone, doing my best to watch out for Sam, while you were singing with the choir. She glares at him, the host’s eyes darkening to unholy black. Sam is mine. I don’t do anything for Dean.
Castiel grasps the host’s arm to keep her from leaving. They both wince at the touch. No, he corrects gently. You do everything for Dean. She blinks up at him, eyes going back to their usual color. You are still one of us in that regard.
You know what he is, she breathes in shock. You know what he did Below.
His smile is ancient. I carried him Out. I cradled him, healed him, Raised him. I know.
She pulls away and he lets her, watches her flee.
o0o
You flirt with the edge, Brother, Gabriel tells him as he rests in Heaven after the debacle with Alistair and Ananchel’s ascension back into the fold.
Am I wrong? Castiel asks, stretching his wings to their full span. Did I disobey?
Gabriel chuckles. You’ve always been the clever one.
o0o
Castiel Falls from Grace on a human Thursday. His wings darken and burn away, leaving only scars. Michael escorts him from Heaven and leaves him, shaking and shuddering and sobbing, on the dirt where Dean had been Raised.
I wish you well, Brother, Michael whispers, kissing his now-human forehead. I trust you know what you are doing.
Castiel catches his hand as he pulls away. Tell me, he mumurs, voice nearly gone from screaming. Did I do wrong?
Michael’s fingers are gentle as he detaches Castiel’s grip. No, he answers softly, wings arching above him. But you did disobey.
o0o
She finds him, still wearing that same girl, and kneels next to him. Sam’s more powerful than he’s ever been, she tells him, helping him sit up. And Dean… well, he’s really starting to piss me off.
Castiel chuckles, wincing as his back pulls. He is gifted at being annoying.
Her eyes are sympathetic as she meets his gaze. They will never grow back, she says soberly. I’m sorry.
He shakes his head. I carried him Out, he says. I knew from the beginning. I do not regret.
You will, she promises, pulling back. He’ll never love you. You’ll wonder every day if it’s worth it.
He lies back down on his belly, trying to ease the ache in his back. I carried him Out, Castiel repeats. I know what he is. He turns his head to look at her. You are a demon. You have Seen, too.
She nods.
o0o
The sun is setting when she leads the brothers to him. He’ll never fly again and he can no longer hear Father’s voice, but he knows, as Dean’s strong and gentle hands lift his battered body off the dirt, that it was worth it.
Castiel knows what Dean is, what he did, and what he can be. And Castiel knows that Sam, for all his power, will follow Dean.
Did I do wrong? he shouts at the sky as Dean carries him to that behemoth of a car.
No, Father answers sadly, the last words he’ll ever hear from his Creator. But you did disobey.
Title: alone
Fandom: Stranded
Disclaimer: not my characters; just for fun.
Warnings: AU for movie; character death
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 265
Point of view: third
Father died in the hold with Sarah; Jacob made it out in a lifeboat. Fritz held on tight to Ernst and Mother as the waves crashed around them, trying to keep all their heads above the water. But one particularly large swell pulled Ernst away, dashing him upon the rock the ship had beached on.
Fritz clung even tighter to Mother, struggling with all his strength to keep them both alive, both breathing. But as the sun rose, Fritz’s exhausted body finally gave up and Mother slipped away into the sea.
He sobbed, letting the waves roll him and spin him, and no longer tried to fight.
o0o
Fritz woke on sand and for a long moment had no memory of the storm. But as he sat up, his battered body screaming at him, he saw the ship not too far out, broken on the rock, and he remembered—Father and Sarah, Ernst, Mother… all gone. And Jacob.
He rolled over onto his stomach, lifting himself up onto his knees so that he could vomit into the sand. Everything in his belly came out, leaving him gasping. The only thing he could think was, Jacob might still be alive. Might even be somewhere close—the land is within swimming distance of the wreckage. The lifeboat could have made it.
Once he could move, he stood. He needed to find water, food, somewhere to actually rest, and then he’d start searching for Jacob.
He had to find Jacob. For Mother, Ernst, Sarah, Father… if they were the only two Robinsons left then they had to be together.
Title: what remains
Fandom: My Bloody Valentine
Disclaimer: not my characters; just for fun.
Warnings: spoilers for film
Pairings: none stated
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 410
Point of view: third
He doesn’t stop running until he hits Oregon. He isn’t sure if he’s Tom or Warden or someone else entirely, and his hand shakes as he downs the rest of his pills in one go.
A bit late for that, don’t you think, boyo? Warden asks.
“Shut up,” Tom replies, eyes squeezed tightly shut, resting his head on the steering wheel. “You’re not real.”
I’m as real as you, the ten-year-dead killer says. Realer, if you wanna get technical.
“What the fuck does that even mean?” And Tom should really stop pandering to the psychopath in his head.
It means you were never more alive than when I killed those people with your hands, Tommy-boy, and you know it.
Tom shudders. “No,” he whispers, knuckles going white around the wheel. He raises his head to look at the small church he’s found in this flyspeck of a town.
Gonna confess our sins? Warden scoffs. That’ll get us right back in the hospital, or jail. No way we won’t get the max sentence. You wanna die?
Tom just repeats, “Shut up,” and climbs out of the stolen jeep, slamming the door. He stalks his way through the empty parking lot and then pauses outside the sanctuary, fortifying himself with a deep breath.
If you tell anyone, Warden says gently, I’ll kill them.
His hand on the simple wooden door, Tom freezes.
No, Warden continues. We’ll kill them.
Tom takes another deep breath, then a third. “What do you want?” he whispers, so far past tired he can barely think straight.
Just a little mayhem, now and again. That’s not too much to ask, is it?
Closing his eyes, Tom fights hard to keep down vomit. “Your mayhem kills people,” he hisses, backing away from the door. He trips on the curb and falls to his knees, hands coming up to cradle his head.
Tell me honestly, Tommy, that you didn’t enjoy it, and I’ll let you talk to a priest.
Tom opens his mouth to say, of course he didn’t enjoy it, but the words stick in his throat. He closes his eyes in self-disgust and then slowly stands, trudges back to the jeep.
“Forgive me, Father,” he whispers, sliding the key into the ignition. “I have sinned. I killed some people, and tried to kill some more.” He glances into the rearview; Warden gazes impassively back, from behind that damned mask.
And I know I’ll kill again, Warden finishes.
Title: it could move you like a wind
Fandom: "Stargate: Atlantis"
Disclaimer: not my characters; just for fun. Title from Adrienne Rich.
Warnings: takes place during “The Storm” and “The Eye”; AU
Pairings: none stated
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 575
Point of view: third
Notes: part of the elemental!AU
As far as John can tell, none of the Genii force invading Atlantis are elements. The ability is rare here in Pegasus—maybe one in a hundred, instead of the one in five back home. Most soldiers are elements, and almost all governmental leaders. The entire expedition is.
But the Genii invaders are merely human. He tracks them by their breathing and asphyxiates them, pulling air from their molecules. He would leave them alive, but Koyla killed Elizabeth and will kill Rodney. A dead enemy at his back is better than an unconscious one, and he has no time for mercy.
He masks all sound of his movement, ghosting through his city; she whispers to him to go this way or take that corridor, and he follows with no hesitation.
Outside, wind is howling; he and Rodney had tried to slow the storm, but even their combined might was nowhere near strong enough.
Koyla keeps up contact with his men, changing the frequency of their radios. John doesn’t need to know what they’re saying—air speaks to him and he listens. He listens to air and Atlantis and he kills an entire strike force and then their reinforcements, until finally only Koyla and his second-in-command remain, backing toward the gate with Rodney and Elizabeth as hostages.
John freezes in place, drinking in the sight of Elizabeth alive, before he sees the flash of red on Rodney’s arm and knows.
“Major Sheppard,” Koyla says, rage in his voice and in the tight grip of his arm across Rodney’s throat. He has a pistol to Rodney’s head. “You killed all my men.”
John had never been trained to kill with his ability. It was one of the few rules on Earth that every nation followed. If war came down to the elements, nothing would be left, so they stuck to guns and bombs, and sent in the elements to clean up the land after.
But this is Pegasus and he killed over sixty men tonight, and Koyla was the reason. Koyla came into his city and killed two of his men and said he killed Elizabeth and sliced Rodney’s arm, and Earth rules no longer apply.
Koyla and his second are screaming as they collapse on the ground; Rodney and Elizabeth hurry across the room. They watch in silence as the two invaders convulse and die in agony.
After a moment, John asks, “What just happened?”
Rodney looks at him and then glances away. “I-I boiled their water.”
Elizabeth winces and pats his non-injured arm. “You did what you had to, Rodney. Now, can you get the shield up in time?”
Rodney shakes his head. “The storm is about to hit and we’d have to go clear across the city. I can’t.”
John nods tiredly and closes his eyes, imagining a bubble of air around the city, working in the lashing wind of the storm. He’ll have to stay conscious for it to work, and he’s already exhausted.
“John,” Rodney says softly in his ear, “let’s go. We can rebuild.”
He shakes his head as his eyes open. “No,” he answers simply. “They died for a reason.”
Rodney studies him for a long moment, reaching out to steady him as John trembles. Finally, Rodney nods. “I’ll work on the rain,” he says.
They couldn’t keep the storm from coming, but they can manage it together while Elizabeth radios everyone to let them know they’re all three still alive.
Title: Apricot leaves blood sprinkled
Fandom: "Supernatural"
Disclaimer: not my characters; just for fun. Title from Adrienne Rich
Warnings: spoilers for aired season four
Pairings: none stated
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 100
Point of view: third
Azazel’s daughter visited Dean in Hell, and was his prime tormenter before he caught Alistair’s attention. In the early days, while he still had the presence of mind to remember life before, he asked why she hadn’t possessed him.
She giggled, a deceptively girlish sound, and placed a hand on his chest, where his amulet would be. “You were protected Above,” she said. “Nothing could touch your insides.” Her fingers sank into his chest, stroking his heart. “But now all your softness is laid bare before us.” He screamed as her talons shredded his heart.
“Now,” she said, “we feast.”
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Any idea where?
And the drabbles were lovely.
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Thank you for reading!
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I love Tom's messed up head, and Warden's psychopathy.
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They are dark, expecially the first one and the last (both're spn). But in SGA... It's so greyish, dark, but there is a hope, beautifull and shy.
Thanks for writing.
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