tigriswolf (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tigriswolf) wrote2012-04-21 08:49 pm
tigriswolf) wrote2012-04-21 08:49 pm
Entry tags:
- actor: jared padalecki,
- actor: jeffrey dean morgan,
- actor: jensen ackles,
- actor: tom hardy,
- fanfic: highlander,
- fanfic: inception,
- fanfic: supernatural,
- fanfic: white collar,
- fic,
- gen,
- movie fic,
- point of view: arthur,
- point of view: castiel,
- point of view: eames,
- point of view: methos,
- point of view: neal caffrey,
- point of view: third person,
- rated pg,
- series: comment_fic,
- slash,
- title: b,
- title: h,
- title: t,
- title: w,
- tv fic,
- type: oneshot,
- type: present tense,
- wordcount: drabble,
- wordcount: drabble plus
comment_fic 681-685: HL, SN, Inception, WC
Title: the eternal student
Fandom: Highlander
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: Methos musings
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 150
Point of view: third
Prompt: Highlander, Methos, he's a survivor because he's a student, because he likes learning new things
Methos has never been static. He's adaptable, ever-changing, and goes with the flow as needed. Yesterday, he was a mercenary; tomorrow, he'll be a history teacher; today he's a bartender looking for work. He's been a prostitute, a priest, a prince. He's been an executioner, a judge, an outlaw and a baker. He loves to learn, so he's a student more than anything. There is so little he doesn't know yet.
When he finds something he doesn't know, he studies until he knows it. He's worn a million names, plied a million trades. He never stops.
That's the key. Putting down roots only means there will be something to burn. But Methos is always looking for what he doesn't know, and he won't stop until he knows everything.
Today he's a bartender, listening to a drunk's rambles. Tomorrow… tomorrow, he'll become a student again, and learn what all geotechnical engineers do.
Title: heir of lightning
Fandom: Highlander
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: future!fic; implied primordial!Methos
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 375
Point of view: third
Prompt: Author's choice; author's choice;
Words scribbled on the underside of an old envelope,
becoming everything inside.
Ink spilled on paper, but in a deeper sense,
several sentences blurred by tears
represented more sentiment,
more that was meaningful and real,
than the years that led to this crossroads.
I heard the door close -
not slamming, but slinking shut
in an unfortunate and unhappy desire to be undetected,
as if secrecy could lessen the pain.
(The Crüxshadows, "Fortress (Eyes to Heaven)")
"You tell me you didn't see this coming," he says, slowly unsheathing his sword. He tosses off his coat and doesn't watch where it lands. His eyes stay firmly on the man he used to claim to love.
(Lie.)
"It doesn't have to be like this," Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod pleads, hands still empty. "Methos, it doesn't -"
"Of course it does," Methos interrupts. "You know the rule, the only rule of our kind that matters."
"No!" Duncan shouts. "That doesn't - nobody knows where it came from! Whose law are we following, Methos?"
Methos just smiles and hefts his sword. "We are following the law of survival, my friend."
(Truth.)
"Live," he says. "You have lived for a long time, and lived well. You carry so many inside you; surely you can hear them screaming to come home."
Duncan blanches but he still doesn't draw his sword.
"Grow stronger," Methos continues. "You've done that, Duncan. There is a reason, after all, why so many Watchers thought you'd be the One."
"Methos," Duncan cries, "please.”
"Fight another day," Methos finishes. "This is the last day, Duncan." He moves, quicker than lightning, and slices Duncan across the face. Duncan lunges back, hands going to his bloody cheek, already healing.
"Fight me, boy," Death commands, "if you want to live."
Duncan fights. He fights well, but it's all by rote - his heart isn't in it. And when he's on his knees, seven hundred years after his first awakening, he holds his head high and tells Death, "It didn't have to be this way, Methos. We all were wrong."
"No," Death replies. "There is only one law of our kind, and the first himself made it."
(Truth.)
"Fare thee well, Duncan. I only ever loved a single soul more than I loved you," Methos says quietly, and then his sword sings.
For one, lovely moment Methos is the only immortal in the world. He carries within him over ten thousand souls, from over five thousand years. He can feel the lightning in his blood.
And then, across the continent, a baby girl begins to howl her rage at being born.
Death laughs. Time to start the greatest game over. And maybe this time he'll lose.
(He doesn't.)
Title: before the beginning and after the end
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: AUish
Pairings: Castiel/Dean
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 155
Point of view: third
Prompt: Supernatural, Dean/Castiel (+any),
Now I know this is strange to hear from the mouth of God
It was something like a scene from mars
In a struggle between loves and lies
The angel kept his face covered for to keep his word
And while I spoke something left from my life
Forget about the past
Be at rest I'll make things right
And while I held you at best you nearly died
Forget about the past
And I'll try to make things right
In his dreams (and who knew dreams existed in whatever came next?), a hundred thousand things are different.
In his dreams, Father returns him to life.
In his dreams, Dean does not turn away.
In his dreams, Father gives him Light to wield as God's Fist.
In his dreams, Dean smiles at him.
In his dreams, cradled in stardust and sky, cradled close to Father's breast, listening to the lullaby of Father's heart, he cradles Dean in his wings and hums the tune of creation, and everything unfurls for them, the beginning and before.
In his dreams, Father tells him, be at peace, child of mine. await your awakening. you shall be returned.
In his dreams, Dean welcomes him back with open arms and the sweetest of kisses, and calls him my own.
In his dreams, after the end and before the beginning, Castiel knows that things will be different, just as soon as he goes home.
Title: When the fox hears the rabbit scream
Fandom: Inception
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Hannibal
Warnings: dark; maybe a bit AUish?
Pairings: Arthur/Eames
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 655
Point of view: third
Prompt: Any, any/any,
Tryin' to live and love
With a heart that can't be broken
Is like tryin' to see the light
With eyes that can't be opened
Yeah, we both carry baggage
We picked up on our way
So if you love me, do it gently
And I will do the same
(Glass, Thompson Square)
By the time he meets the man who will be Eames, at the ancient age of twenty-one, the man who will be Arthur has killed nearly fifty men.
By time the best point man in the business is introduced to the greatest forger in the world, that number has tripled.
(Before he was a point man, Arthur had been an assassin. Before he was an assassin, [name redacted] had been in black-ops. Before he was in black-ops, there had been extenuating circumstances involving a father who owed people, a mother who was never there, and traveling around a lot. And if men happened to vanish wherever Dad stopped to hide for awhile, well. Who ever thinks a kid could've done it?
The man who would be Arthur had never been a child.)
Eames smiles at him, slow and sweet, and says, "Aren't you a peach."
Arthur raises an eyebrow, replying, "I assure you, I am not."
(Like recognizes like, after all. A predator always knows a predator.)
Cobb thought he was saving a kid who'd gotten in over his head. The man who would be Arthur has always looked young and innocent. And Cobb didn't believe in what the military was doing. So when he and his wife ran from Project Somnus for safety beneath Miles' power in the scientific community, he brought a soldier with him.
Or, well, he thought he brought a soldier with him. What he brought was [name redacted] who became Arthur three days later, when he dreamed up the perfect companion in Limbo.
(Ah, Limbo, he whispered, how I have missed you.)
(In the seedy underbelly of London, about to burst on the world stage of crime, a man opens his eyes after sleeping for days, trapped in Limbo, and he murmurs, See you soon, love.)
An assassin, a forger, and a thief. One of these things is not like the other, but the man who will be Eames in just a few more months never cared. His father taught him to lie, and his mother to paint, and when he double-crossed the crime lord in charge of his home town, he ended up on the wrong side of a dozen powerful men, but walked out unscathed, leaving corpses in his wake. He could've taken over.
Instead he joined up with an experimental program and learned to dream like he never had before, and when he wondered what he could change, he ended up changing himself into something new.
And he fell into Limbo, where he fashioned the most perfect companion, and he opened his eyes when it should've been impossible, and he smiled at the doctor who'd been bought by men who wanted him dead, and left a few more corpses in his wake.
There is no recorded survivor from the massacre of Project Somnia. And the authorities never did find whoever was responsible.
By the time they knew to look, he was on the ground in Mombasa and tracking down a chemist most of the medical community had written off.
Eames was born on his first job as a dream forger.
It wasn't until he met Arthur, months later, when he truly breathed for the first time.
(Like recognizes like.)
(I dreamed of you, Eames whispers, back to back with Arthur amidst bullets and screams.
I called you, Arthur murmurs, throwing a knife and hitting some poor bastard in the eye.
Limbo made them, and the world will recoil from them, and Eames grins at Arthur, and Arthur smirks at Eames, and oh, what fun they'll have.)
If asked, anyone in dreamsharing will say that the best are Arthur and Eames.
If asked a different question, anyone in dreamsharing will say, Be careful. There's something – off about them.
Cobb will never believe it, but Saito and Yusuf see it, and if she lasts, Ariadne will, too.
(Whenever they dream together, Arthur and Eames fall into Limbo and play blood-filled, exhilarating games.)
Title: this is my day and I, for this I will not pay
Fandom: White Collar
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Adrienne Rich
Warnings: AU for Neal's backstory; violence
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 400
Point of view: third
Prompt: White Collar, Neal + Peter, Neal may trust him, but he hardly ever lets him see behind the mask.
Neal is angry all the time. He has been for years, and sometimes, all he wants to do is grab the nearest knife and gut someone. He's refrained, though. Otherwise, he'd either be dead or on the run, looking over his shoulder all the time.
Peter thinks Neal is a gentleman thief. El, June, Diana, Jones - they all think he's charming, and a better than decent guy. The FBI thinks Neal's useful, except for those who think once a thief, always a thief, and the only place for thieves is prison.
Neal's been angry since he was a child. It's not that he was beaten. It's not that he was neglected. His father was a smalltime crook, and his mother a bankteller (and, yes, there's irony there somewhere, but Neal doesn't care anymore), and Neal coasted through school, well-liked and firmly entrenched in the middle of his class. Neal made sure no one ever saw his true self, carefully giving everyone the same mask: all-American nice boy. Athletic, popular – charming. So very charming.
Neal's been charming just as long as he's been angry.
Painting is not his passion. He's good at it, of course. He's good at everything. When his mother told him he could do anything he wanted, it was the truth. If he hadn't held back, school wouldn't have taken long at all.
Conning is not his passion, either.
(When Neal was fourteen, a senior at his school went missing, written off as a runaway.)
Stealing things is fun, but it's all so easy, there's hardly any reason to anymore.
(When Neal was eighteen, a young couple from his class went missing. It was decided they ran off together.)
Forging was diverting at first, but after a year, it was no longer a challenge.
(When Neal was in prison, the biggest, meanest topdog died. Consensus: accidental food poisoning.)
Peter doesn't think Neal is harmless; Neal's a convicted felon, after all.
But Peter does think Neal is a gentleman.
Peter doesn't know what Neal does when the rage gets to be too much, how he learned to trick the anklet within the first week, or just how many people go missing in New York a day.
Neal doesn't let the anger control him. He uses it. The anger hones him into something sharp, something dangerous, and maybe one day, Peter will learn what Neal's true passion is.
Fandom: Highlander
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: Methos musings
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 150
Point of view: third
Prompt: Highlander, Methos, he's a survivor because he's a student, because he likes learning new things
Methos has never been static. He's adaptable, ever-changing, and goes with the flow as needed. Yesterday, he was a mercenary; tomorrow, he'll be a history teacher; today he's a bartender looking for work. He's been a prostitute, a priest, a prince. He's been an executioner, a judge, an outlaw and a baker. He loves to learn, so he's a student more than anything. There is so little he doesn't know yet.
When he finds something he doesn't know, he studies until he knows it. He's worn a million names, plied a million trades. He never stops.
That's the key. Putting down roots only means there will be something to burn. But Methos is always looking for what he doesn't know, and he won't stop until he knows everything.
Today he's a bartender, listening to a drunk's rambles. Tomorrow… tomorrow, he'll become a student again, and learn what all geotechnical engineers do.
Title: heir of lightning
Fandom: Highlander
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: future!fic; implied primordial!Methos
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 375
Point of view: third
Prompt: Author's choice; author's choice;
Words scribbled on the underside of an old envelope,
becoming everything inside.
Ink spilled on paper, but in a deeper sense,
several sentences blurred by tears
represented more sentiment,
more that was meaningful and real,
than the years that led to this crossroads.
I heard the door close -
not slamming, but slinking shut
in an unfortunate and unhappy desire to be undetected,
as if secrecy could lessen the pain.
(The Crüxshadows, "Fortress (Eyes to Heaven)")
"You tell me you didn't see this coming," he says, slowly unsheathing his sword. He tosses off his coat and doesn't watch where it lands. His eyes stay firmly on the man he used to claim to love.
(Lie.)
"It doesn't have to be like this," Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod pleads, hands still empty. "Methos, it doesn't -"
"Of course it does," Methos interrupts. "You know the rule, the only rule of our kind that matters."
"No!" Duncan shouts. "That doesn't - nobody knows where it came from! Whose law are we following, Methos?"
Methos just smiles and hefts his sword. "We are following the law of survival, my friend."
(Truth.)
"Live," he says. "You have lived for a long time, and lived well. You carry so many inside you; surely you can hear them screaming to come home."
Duncan blanches but he still doesn't draw his sword.
"Grow stronger," Methos continues. "You've done that, Duncan. There is a reason, after all, why so many Watchers thought you'd be the One."
"Methos," Duncan cries, "please.”
"Fight another day," Methos finishes. "This is the last day, Duncan." He moves, quicker than lightning, and slices Duncan across the face. Duncan lunges back, hands going to his bloody cheek, already healing.
"Fight me, boy," Death commands, "if you want to live."
Duncan fights. He fights well, but it's all by rote - his heart isn't in it. And when he's on his knees, seven hundred years after his first awakening, he holds his head high and tells Death, "It didn't have to be this way, Methos. We all were wrong."
"No," Death replies. "There is only one law of our kind, and the first himself made it."
(Truth.)
"Fare thee well, Duncan. I only ever loved a single soul more than I loved you," Methos says quietly, and then his sword sings.
For one, lovely moment Methos is the only immortal in the world. He carries within him over ten thousand souls, from over five thousand years. He can feel the lightning in his blood.
And then, across the continent, a baby girl begins to howl her rage at being born.
Death laughs. Time to start the greatest game over. And maybe this time he'll lose.
(He doesn't.)
Title: before the beginning and after the end
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: AUish
Pairings: Castiel/Dean
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 155
Point of view: third
Prompt: Supernatural, Dean/Castiel (+any),
Now I know this is strange to hear from the mouth of God
It was something like a scene from mars
In a struggle between loves and lies
The angel kept his face covered for to keep his word
And while I spoke something left from my life
Forget about the past
Be at rest I'll make things right
And while I held you at best you nearly died
Forget about the past
And I'll try to make things right
In his dreams (and who knew dreams existed in whatever came next?), a hundred thousand things are different.
In his dreams, Father returns him to life.
In his dreams, Dean does not turn away.
In his dreams, Father gives him Light to wield as God's Fist.
In his dreams, Dean smiles at him.
In his dreams, cradled in stardust and sky, cradled close to Father's breast, listening to the lullaby of Father's heart, he cradles Dean in his wings and hums the tune of creation, and everything unfurls for them, the beginning and before.
In his dreams, Father tells him, be at peace, child of mine. await your awakening. you shall be returned.
In his dreams, Dean welcomes him back with open arms and the sweetest of kisses, and calls him my own.
In his dreams, after the end and before the beginning, Castiel knows that things will be different, just as soon as he goes home.
Title: When the fox hears the rabbit scream
Fandom: Inception
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Hannibal
Warnings: dark; maybe a bit AUish?
Pairings: Arthur/Eames
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 655
Point of view: third
Prompt: Any, any/any,
Tryin' to live and love
With a heart that can't be broken
Is like tryin' to see the light
With eyes that can't be opened
Yeah, we both carry baggage
We picked up on our way
So if you love me, do it gently
And I will do the same
(Glass, Thompson Square)
By the time he meets the man who will be Eames, at the ancient age of twenty-one, the man who will be Arthur has killed nearly fifty men.
By time the best point man in the business is introduced to the greatest forger in the world, that number has tripled.
(Before he was a point man, Arthur had been an assassin. Before he was an assassin, [name redacted] had been in black-ops. Before he was in black-ops, there had been extenuating circumstances involving a father who owed people, a mother who was never there, and traveling around a lot. And if men happened to vanish wherever Dad stopped to hide for awhile, well. Who ever thinks a kid could've done it?
The man who would be Arthur had never been a child.)
Eames smiles at him, slow and sweet, and says, "Aren't you a peach."
Arthur raises an eyebrow, replying, "I assure you, I am not."
(Like recognizes like, after all. A predator always knows a predator.)
Cobb thought he was saving a kid who'd gotten in over his head. The man who would be Arthur has always looked young and innocent. And Cobb didn't believe in what the military was doing. So when he and his wife ran from Project Somnus for safety beneath Miles' power in the scientific community, he brought a soldier with him.
Or, well, he thought he brought a soldier with him. What he brought was [name redacted] who became Arthur three days later, when he dreamed up the perfect companion in Limbo.
(Ah, Limbo, he whispered, how I have missed you.)
(In the seedy underbelly of London, about to burst on the world stage of crime, a man opens his eyes after sleeping for days, trapped in Limbo, and he murmurs, See you soon, love.)
An assassin, a forger, and a thief. One of these things is not like the other, but the man who will be Eames in just a few more months never cared. His father taught him to lie, and his mother to paint, and when he double-crossed the crime lord in charge of his home town, he ended up on the wrong side of a dozen powerful men, but walked out unscathed, leaving corpses in his wake. He could've taken over.
Instead he joined up with an experimental program and learned to dream like he never had before, and when he wondered what he could change, he ended up changing himself into something new.
And he fell into Limbo, where he fashioned the most perfect companion, and he opened his eyes when it should've been impossible, and he smiled at the doctor who'd been bought by men who wanted him dead, and left a few more corpses in his wake.
There is no recorded survivor from the massacre of Project Somnia. And the authorities never did find whoever was responsible.
By the time they knew to look, he was on the ground in Mombasa and tracking down a chemist most of the medical community had written off.
Eames was born on his first job as a dream forger.
It wasn't until he met Arthur, months later, when he truly breathed for the first time.
(Like recognizes like.)
(I dreamed of you, Eames whispers, back to back with Arthur amidst bullets and screams.
I called you, Arthur murmurs, throwing a knife and hitting some poor bastard in the eye.
Limbo made them, and the world will recoil from them, and Eames grins at Arthur, and Arthur smirks at Eames, and oh, what fun they'll have.)
If asked, anyone in dreamsharing will say that the best are Arthur and Eames.
If asked a different question, anyone in dreamsharing will say, Be careful. There's something – off about them.
Cobb will never believe it, but Saito and Yusuf see it, and if she lasts, Ariadne will, too.
(Whenever they dream together, Arthur and Eames fall into Limbo and play blood-filled, exhilarating games.)
Title: this is my day and I, for this I will not pay
Fandom: White Collar
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Adrienne Rich
Warnings: AU for Neal's backstory; violence
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 400
Point of view: third
Prompt: White Collar, Neal + Peter, Neal may trust him, but he hardly ever lets him see behind the mask.
Neal is angry all the time. He has been for years, and sometimes, all he wants to do is grab the nearest knife and gut someone. He's refrained, though. Otherwise, he'd either be dead or on the run, looking over his shoulder all the time.
Peter thinks Neal is a gentleman thief. El, June, Diana, Jones - they all think he's charming, and a better than decent guy. The FBI thinks Neal's useful, except for those who think once a thief, always a thief, and the only place for thieves is prison.
Neal's been angry since he was a child. It's not that he was beaten. It's not that he was neglected. His father was a smalltime crook, and his mother a bankteller (and, yes, there's irony there somewhere, but Neal doesn't care anymore), and Neal coasted through school, well-liked and firmly entrenched in the middle of his class. Neal made sure no one ever saw his true self, carefully giving everyone the same mask: all-American nice boy. Athletic, popular – charming. So very charming.
Neal's been charming just as long as he's been angry.
Painting is not his passion. He's good at it, of course. He's good at everything. When his mother told him he could do anything he wanted, it was the truth. If he hadn't held back, school wouldn't have taken long at all.
Conning is not his passion, either.
(When Neal was fourteen, a senior at his school went missing, written off as a runaway.)
Stealing things is fun, but it's all so easy, there's hardly any reason to anymore.
(When Neal was eighteen, a young couple from his class went missing. It was decided they ran off together.)
Forging was diverting at first, but after a year, it was no longer a challenge.
(When Neal was in prison, the biggest, meanest topdog died. Consensus: accidental food poisoning.)
Peter doesn't think Neal is harmless; Neal's a convicted felon, after all.
But Peter does think Neal is a gentleman.
Peter doesn't know what Neal does when the rage gets to be too much, how he learned to trick the anklet within the first week, or just how many people go missing in New York a day.
Neal doesn't let the anger control him. He uses it. The anger hones him into something sharp, something dangerous, and maybe one day, Peter will learn what Neal's true passion is.
no subject
I want to wrap both in warm blankets and cuddle them but fear that both would strike out rather than accept the hugs.
As always, your writing is lovely.
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Thank you so much!
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Arthur and Eames being like that is amazing and 'romantic', and I like this kind of 'power couple' XD
Castiel's drawing was both cute and angst-ful <3
And Methos continues being awesome *LOL* Even if and when he's being cruel and realistic ::)
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Thank you!
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*snickers* Bad things, dude.
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Yeah, that could do it.
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Thank you so much!
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Thank you for reading!
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Neal is so dangerous
Thanks
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Thank you for reading! I don't think I've ever gotten so many smileys before.
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Excellent stuff.
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Thank you so much!
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Thank you!
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Arthur and Eames here? That's so not creepy. ::grin::
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Sure, you can take the massacre, if you like.
Thanks for reading!