drabbles: Avatar, House, SN
Feb. 10th, 2009 05:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tigriswolf
Title: your people surround you, in shame and in pride
Fandom: “Avatar: The Last Airbender”
Disclaimer: not my characters; just for fun. Title from Olga Levertoff.
Warnings: AU; future!fic
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 600
Point of view: third
An old man lives at the edge of the woods, just outside town. They say he’s a fallen god, or a demon in hiding, or even that missing heir of the Fire Nation. He has a scar, like the legends say Prince Zuko had, and the golden-yellow eyes, but no one’s ever asked.
Or, if they have, they’re not talking.
There is only one thing everybody knows: fire never touches him.
Fire Nation soldiers came to the town, once, back just after the old man moved here. He wasn’t old then, of course, only twenty or so. And he fought with two swords, dodging fire and weapons, and no flame touched him. He almost single-handedly stopped the attack, leaving most of the invaders dead.
The headman asked him to stay. He didn’t answer, but he never left.
Everyone knows he’s a firebender; it’s the only explanation. But he never ’bends, so they don’t confront him. He protects the town and lives quietly, buying supplies at the market once a week. Sometimes, when he seems tired or weary, the shopkeepers try to slip him something extra for free; it’s a rare day when he accepts the charity.
He was handsome, they say, those old timers who remember. When he first came, beneath the blood and the bruises and in spite of the scar, he was handsome. But he killed the soldiers and flame never touched him, and they knew he was dangerous. So they let him be, at his small shack on the edge of the woods.
Fire Nation soldiers stop in town, every now and again, to restock. The old man stays home those days.
They say the Fire Lord Azula is searching for her brother, the long-lost Prince Zuko. He is the only threat to her reign since the Avatar fell on the day of Sozin’s Comet.
No one in the town ever says a thing about the old man living at the edge of the woods. He is their secret, their protector, and they can love him because he never ’bends.
One summer day, an old Water Tribe warrior comes to town. The Water Tribe are nearly extinct, hunted by the Fire Nation mercilessly, but he wears their uniform proudly and without fear.
The next morning, the old man from the edge of the forest doesn’t come to town for his weekly supplies. Some of the boys go to check on him, at the behest of their mothers, but he’s gone.
After that, the rumors are swift: a rebel force is taunting the Fire Nation, tormenting their soldiers. Assassinations are carried out on all the major generals, leaving the army leaderless and lost.
An army, they say, is gathering in the wild, all the surviving ’benders, all those who wish to strike back, mostly Earth Kingdom, but all the remaining Water Tribe as well. That is where the old man who lived at the edge of the woods went, they are certain. That Water Tribe warrior must have come for him and together they set off to join the war effort.
He never comes back, the scarred man with golden eyes who lived near them in peace and protected them from harm. He was dangerous, so very dangerous, but never to them. And they miss him.
He was a fallen god, they say, or a demon in hiding, but the favorite story by far, told so often it soon becomes fact, is that he was the Fire Prince in hiding, the long-lost Zuko, and he finally went back to defeat his sister and take the throne.
And when the war ends, they know they are right.
Title: loyalty
Fandom: “House, MD”
Disclaimer: not my characters; just for fun.
Warnings: spoilers for season three
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 100
Point of view: third
He punches me, I hug him, he fires me… what the fuck? Robert’s thoughts go ‘round and ‘round and he can’t find a logical reason. I lasted the longest so I had to go? What the hell kind of sense does that make?
Robert stares at the glass of gin and tonic, holding it up to catch the light. It glints and shines into his eyes; he looks away, blinking.
I could go to Cuddy, he thinks. I could get him fired, thrown in jail, have his medical license revoked… I could ruin his life.
He sighs. But I won’t.
Title: tonight, faith just ain’t enough
Fandom: “Supernatural”
Disclaimer: not my characters; just for fun. Title from Springsteen.
Warnings: future!fic; implied non-con
Pairings: Moloch/Castiel
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 585
Point of view: third
After the great battle, Heaven’s last stand, Castiel hit the dirt painfully, Moloch’s foot on his neck.
“Oh, my dear brother,” Moloch cackled. “How low you’ve fallen.”
“I have not fallen,” Castiel murmured, blood dribbling from his mouth. “I am still pure.”
“Your army has failed,” Moloch proclaimed, the tip of his sword at the juncture of Castiel’s head and neck. He knelt on Castiel’s back, hacking at Castiel’s wing. “Heaven is now Hell’s sister-city, angel.” Castiel gasped as Moloch’s knife cut through his left wing, tearing it off at the base.
Castiel closed his eyes, praying for deliverance, while Moloch went to work on his other wing.
“The rest of your kind are all dead,” Moloch whispered, crouching by his side. He rolled Castiel over, gently stroking his face. “Your lord is dead. My lord is risen and all is his.”
“Kill me,” Castiel said.
Moloch smiled. “I remember the beginning, how beautiful you were when refused my lord. I wanted you then.” He nipped at the skin of Castiel’s throat with his needle-sharp fangs. “I take you now.”
Sheathing his sword, Moloch stood, lifting Castiel’s broken body into his arms. Castiel gazed across the battlefield, at his siblings scattered in pieces over the blood-soaked ground. Feathers littered the dirt, dotted crimson.
In the distance, the demons knelt before their lord, laying their weapons at his feet. Moloch flew to him, Castiel his prize.
“Liege,” Moloch said respectfully. “I bring you the last of all heavenly choirs.”
Castiel tumbled onto the dirt, coughing up blood. He lay on his belly, trying to breathe.
“I knew you’d survive,” Samuel Winchester said softly, crouching next to him. He touched Castiel’s shoulder and Castiel shuddered.
“Please,” he whispered, eyes closed. “Kill me. Let me die.”
“You returned my brother to me, angel,” Sam said, fingers stroking the stumps of his wings. “You care for my brother, don’t you?”
“Once I did,” Castiel admitted.
Sam laughed. “You suck at lying, Cas. You still care for him. You might even love him.” He flipped Castiel over and Castiel bit in a scream. Sam leaned close, meeting Castiel’s gaze straight on. “I can heal your wings. I can give you a place in my regime. I owe you, Castiel.”
Castiel smiled, at peace. “You don’t know,” he murmured.
Sam’s eyes sharpened, burning a deep green. “Explain,” he demanded, a note of command in his tone.
Even God had never sounded so kingly.
“Michael and Azrael went for Dean,” Castiel said, feeling his death approach. “Have you heard from him since the battle began?”
The ground trembled. “You wouldn’t let Dean die,” Sam said. “You adore him.”
“No,” he gently corrected. “I adored the man he was.” Castiel looked past Sam, to the clear, cloudless sky. “But that man died when he failed to stop you.”
Sam stood, fury palpable in the air around him. “Moloch,” he hissed, “do with him whatever you want, but keep him alive.” Turning, Sam commanded, “Satan, Beelzebub—find Dean. Tear the world apart if you must, but find him.”
Moloch picked Castiel up again and carried him away. Sam gave more orders, but Castiel quit listening. He went deep inside himself, to where a small fire burned. You have him? he asked.
Yes, the last angel answered, a world away. What is your will, brother?
Kill me, Castiel requested. And keep him safe. He is the only chance.
As you wish, Death whispered, and Castiel died beneath Moloch, secure in knowing Dean still lived.
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(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-11 12:04 am (UTC)x helen
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-11 01:48 am (UTC)There actually is a prequel written, which will be posted sometime later this week.
Thank you for reading!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-11 12:24 am (UTC)!!!!
Oh, sweet weeping mother of owch.
::has no more words::
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-11 01:48 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-11 12:53 am (UTC)Really great fic =)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-11 01:49 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-11 02:18 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-11 01:55 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-11 02:18 am (UTC)Nicely done, even though you just broke my heart. *hugs*
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-11 01:55 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-11 05:06 am (UTC)Oh Zuko! Oh Sokka! I really love that you paint such a stark picture without having it be depressing with everyone miserable. Zuko as quiet protector is lovely, and shows a nice progression to what he might very well have turned into if things had gone badly.
Sam, oh Sam so twisted and evil... we can only hope that Dean will help him stay on the right path. I can definitely see Castiel making this sort of move, too.
Wonderful, thank you for sharing!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-11 01:56 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-11 04:50 pm (UTC)And since that's all that will come, yes, I adore it, and yes, it's headed for the *memories*.
You rule (pun not intended, haha).
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-11 08:02 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-12 02:39 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-12 08:26 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-01-31 01:22 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-01-31 03:54 am (UTC)Thank you so very much for reading them all!