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Title: apt pupil
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: dark
Pairings: none
Rating: R
Wordcount: 145
Point of view: third
Prompt: SPN, author's choice, The Lovely Bones (Alice Sebold)
Alistair's glee is palpable as Dean makes the first slice. It's shallow and long, all the way down the torso from the base of the throat to the navel. The soul whimpers but doesn't beg. That will come later, Dean knows.
With precise, unhurried motions, Dean peels back the skin. It doesn't look like the musculature he saw when he was alive; he ignores that. He carefully detaches the muscles, placing them to the side. The soul gasps and writhes, sobbing now. Still no begging.
Dean takes a damp cloth and scrubs at the bones revealed, gray instead of white. The soul is close to passing out, so Dean reaches up to pat its face. "If you go away," he tells it gently, "it'll be his turn." He nods his head toward Alistair. "That what you want?"
The soul screams for mercy. Alistair claps his hands.
Title: when legends die
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: spoilers for season 4
Pairings: none stated
Rating: PGish
Wordcount: 190
Point of view: third
Prompt: Sam/Dean, I am Legend (Richard Matheson)
Whispers spread from ocean to ocean, carried on wind and rain, through the dirt, up to the stars. Lucifer's wings block out the sun and lightning flashes as thunder roars, splitting the sky.
Whispers become screams become sobs become silence.
Finally, when Lucifer is weary from war, as his hordes lower their swords and his onetime brothers and sisters collapse on the ground, a man steps forward. The Winchesters are long thought dead and gone, but this human has Sam's eyes and Dean's smirk.
Who are you? the End of All Things asks the soldier, preparing to smite the final man from existence.
Dean Winchester broke the first Seal. His brother broke the last.
The man grins at God’s Adversary, God’s Destroyer, and raises an old gun. He doesn’t speak as he pulls the trigger.
When Lucifer dies, it’s too late for humanity and the angels. And the only human left alive walks through cowering demons and angelic corpses to a gleaming black car that shouldn’t run but does. He plays Metallica so loud the car throbs and drives west, towards a sun that, for some reason, is still around to set.
Title: quicksilver
Fandom: Star Trek reboot
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: spoilers for film
Pairings: implied Jim/Bones
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 220
Point of view: third
Prompt: Spock/anyone, nerve pinch
The second time they fight, it's not fueled by emotions or desperation. It's just sparring, as Jim feels him out.
Jim doesn't remember the move that took him down on the bridge, before Delta Vega and OldSpock telling him how things should be. He doesn't ask what Spock did, and he knows it had to be Spock. So he watches as they spar, studying Spock's moves.
The third and fourth times are the same, but the fifth—well, Jim barely remembers that one, lost in a haze of hallucinogenic pathogens. Spock keeps intercutting with Nero, and he hears people screaming at him to stop, Jim, stop, none of it’s real, stop! But he can’t. He’s trying, but the adrenaline is just too much, and it’s Nero.
He sees the move coming this time, Spock’s hand and Nero’s face, and he dodges. Spock’s usually faster than him, and always stronger, but with the drugs he’s flying, too quick to catch.
Jim!
He knows that voice. Bones. Nero’s got Bones and Jim charges, letting go of all grace and training, running on pure instinct and rage and that damned fucking drug.
Last thing he remembers is Spock’s hand, snaking in even quicker than him.
He wakes up thinking, Damn, I gotta learn that move intermixed with At least there’s no ice this time.
Title: language of the heart
Fandom: Dark Angel
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: spoilers for the series
Pairings: Max/Alec
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 110
Point of view: third
Prompt: Max/Alec, playing the piano
She'll never admit it, but she likes listening to him play. He goes away when he does, somewhere in his mind. Back with Rachel, she thinks. Somewhere that's not cold, fraught with danger, full of death and pain and nightmares.
She wishes she could join him there, but it's not her place. Not after everything she's done, everything she's said.
And then one night, when she's lying on the roof and counting the stars, replaying the music in her mind, he stretches out next to her.
"I could teach you," he says after a while. "If you want."
She smiles, slowly reaching out to cover his fingers with hers. "I'd like that."
Title: different methods, same hope
Fandom: Batman/Superman
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: none
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 150
Point of view: third
Prompt: Clark Kent (Superman)/Bruce Wayne (Batman), which is the costume?
Clark Kent is Superman. They're the same person, just one is out there saving people. They have the same moral code, the same beliefs, even the same taste in coffee and women.
Bruce Wayne is not Batman. He's charismatic and shallow, a buffoon and so beautiful he gets away with it. Batman, though—Batman is a warrior, dark and dangerous, who does what he feels is right. He is a genius, unhesitating, always ready to fight or die for people he has never met and will most likely never see again.
In the costume or out, Clark Kent is Superman. Once people realize it, they can't believe they ever missed it.
Those closest to Batman realize that Bruce Wayne is no more than a mask, the revenant of a boy who died when he was eight years old, bleeding out onto a dirty street while his parents breathed their last.