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tigriswolfTitle: not all those who wander are lost
Original, PG, gen
Title from Tolkien
263 words
Prompt: Author's choice, author's choice, cursed to wander the Earth, but for them it was never a curse
She spends a year in Vienna, another in Rome, a year and a half in London, in Paris, in Tokyo - she travels to every major city, to all the marvels, to the greatest libraries and museums of Earth. She roams the Amazon, the Serengeti, the Outback. She sees new faces, learns new names, lives a different life every day for a year.
You will never have a home, never have a people, the god she rejected proclaimed, head held regally high, voice ringing out against the stone. Wander until you die, and then wander in the afterlife.
She kept her eyes on the ground, but her spine straight and her fists unclenched. Her father, the only priest left to honor their god, had gasped, and her mother had wept. But her own eyes were dry then and have remained dry still.
However, the god added, should you come to realize your error, say my name and I’ll return to you. If you become mine, the curse will be lifted.
She held her tongue instead of promising That will never happen.
And so she wanders, with no people and no land to call her own. She has no responsibilities, no duties, no expectations.
She never even thinks the god’s name, and there’s so much to do, so much to see.
She laughs as the sun rises on another day, thinking, Thank you for the curse. Today, she is in San Francisco, and there is a whale-watch tour waiting for her to join, ocean air for her to breathe, another life to step into.
Title: into the woods
Original, PG, mentions of het
270 words
Prompt: Any, any female character, And I'm sorry, young man, I cannot be your friend/I don't believe in a fairytale end
“Come, Melena,” he implores, widening those clear blue eyes, face open beseechingly. “We’re destined, you and I. I know you feel it, too.”
He is the prince of the neighboring realm; they have been betrothed since her birth, merely a year after his.
“I’ll write my own ending, Darius,” she says, “no matter what either of our kings say.”
.
She is gone with the dawn, taking food from the kitchen, a small knife, and the book of spells thought to be hidden in the furthest corner of the library.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep; creatures sleep at the bottom of the lake, far out in the sea. Let her younger sister have the crown – Selena has never read the forbidden texts, never tried out any of the spells. She is the daughter Father always wanted. Melena is something else entirely.
(Be careful, sweetling, Mother had said, her last night alive, while Melena sat with her. Be wary where you whisper; watch where you step. There is much to do, yet.)
Melena is no man’s prize, and she is no queen. The sun shines above her, and the forest welcomes her. To the east, she hears the sea calling.
Darius is a good man, and he’ll be kind to Selena, which is more than can be said for most of the princes.
And if he is not kind to Selena, or Father marries her to someone else –
A funeral of ravens flies overhead, jeering down at her. She laughs, pulling out a piece of bread.
Her story has just begun. She alone will decide where it ends.
Title: the sound of God walking
Fandom: Highlander
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: mentions of violence/death
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 340
Point of view: third
Prompt: Highlander, Methos/any, everyone dies
Here's a spoiler for you: everyone dies at the end.
.
He does not remember his first life. Probably not the second through twentieth, either. Time did not matter, then. The sun rose, the sun set, people died. People thirsted, they hungered, they hunted and they fucked, they gave birth and left their dead to rot beneath the sun, to be scavenged by the animals salivating just out of reach.
Life was hard, then. And while it has become far more pleasurable, all the years since, some things are still just as hard.
People have always died.
.
A hundred, a thousand, ten thousand, a million, millions upon billions – he does not know how many lives were extinguished through his direct intervention. Does it matter? They would have died, anyway.
Of course he doesn’t regret it. How can he? He’s what all immortals are, what all humans have the potential to be.
He’s just the best at it.
.
Air conditioning. The internet. Indoor plumbing. If asked, those are his favorite things civilization has invented.
(The wheel. Language. Stories.)
.
Here’s a spoiler for you: no one can run forever.
.
He has loved many, and killed more. He has hunted nations down to their last citizen. He has built cities and raised monuments. He has taught and tortured and trained and triumphed. He has hidden for decades and strode boldly through the streets. He is a legend, a story, a myth.
He’s just a guy. At the end, he is only a man.
.
Here’s a spoiler for you: in the end, there can be only one.
.
The sun rises; his sword glints in the light, and his teeth are bared in a smile.
He does not remember his first life, or even his hundredth. There have been thousands, five thousand years – oh, so many more. He is the oldest thing on the planet.
“Well?” he calls, laughing.
.
Here’s a spoiler for you: everyone dies at the end. The pale rider rides on, astride the great horse, and the sun sets.
People always die.
Title: tell him we will meet as men, for with honor did I die
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: AU during season 2, character death
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 260
Point of view: third
Prompt: Any, any, "I wish I was sorry, but I'm not."
(The paper is crumpled, dotted with blood, and left beneath the sheriff’s coffee mug. Stiles has been missing for six hours when he reads it.)
Hey, Dad.
I’m not sure - There are so many lies. These past few years – well, you’ve been there. It’s been hard. And I wish I could tell you I was sorry for all the shit I’ve done, the lies I’ve told, but – I can’t, Dad. I can’t. And I can’t explain why, either.
I know I’ve disappointed you, and I know Mom would be disappointed, too. I know that. And I’m -
I’m out of time. I’m sorry.
I love you, Dad. Don’t blame yourself, please don’t blame yourself. None of this, of any of it, is your fault, I promise – but you won’t believe me, I’ve lied too much.
I love you. No matter what else, remember that, okay? You’ve been the best, and I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better son.
I’ve got to go, Dad.
I love
(Derek Hale brings back Stiles’ body and explains everything while the sheriff cradles his son. Scott shows up halfway through, with the Argent girl and three teenagers wearing leather jackets like armor.
No apology is enough, but Hale says, “I know who did it,” and the Argent girl raises her chin to add, “I can get you close to him.”
No one makes a sound as the sheriff rocks his son back and forth in his arms. He reaches up to remove the badge from his pocket and says, “Tell me.”)
Title: a very distinctive (fill in the blank)
Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV)/Leverage
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: Takes place anytime for Leverage, but in a world where season 3 never happened for Teen Wolf
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 225
Point of view: third
Prompt: Leverage, Eliot, not many people know it, but Eliot Spencer is The Coolest Uncle Ever. Period.
"Okay, everyone," Stiles says, looking each of them in the eye, "there can be none, ABSOLUTELY NO, werewolf shenanigans for the upcoming week. Okay? Okay." He nods firmly. "NONE."
“Oh, no,” Scott breathes. “No, tell me he’s not – ”
Stiles nods, a nervous smile on his face. “He is.”
Scott facepalms.
“What?” Derek finally demands, cutting off whatever Isaac or Erica were about to say.
“My Uncle Eliot is gonna be spending the week with us,” Stiles says. “He’s ‘recuperating.’” Stiles actually uses the finger quotes and Derek rolls his eyes. “Hey, no, don’t roll your eyes at me, bucko!” Stiles says. “He’s – I don’t know what he does, he never talks about work, but he’s got scars like you would have if you didn’t heal, and I’ve made lists about it! He’s either an assassin or mob enforcer, or, like, the specialist special forces guy ever, and he will notice if anything happens.”
“Look,” Isaac says, “he’ll only be here a week, right? Not a problem.”
Stiles shakes his head, sighing.
…
(Uncle Eliot makes them in half a day.)
(Also, Chris Argent doesn’t look at Scott for months after Uncle Eliot leaves.)
(Also also, Eliot asks his older brother, “You’re really acting like you don’t know?”
His brother says, “I’ll wait for my son to tell me.”
Eliot just scoffs at him.)
Original, PG, gen
Title from Tolkien
263 words
Prompt: Author's choice, author's choice, cursed to wander the Earth, but for them it was never a curse
She spends a year in Vienna, another in Rome, a year and a half in London, in Paris, in Tokyo - she travels to every major city, to all the marvels, to the greatest libraries and museums of Earth. She roams the Amazon, the Serengeti, the Outback. She sees new faces, learns new names, lives a different life every day for a year.
You will never have a home, never have a people, the god she rejected proclaimed, head held regally high, voice ringing out against the stone. Wander until you die, and then wander in the afterlife.
She kept her eyes on the ground, but her spine straight and her fists unclenched. Her father, the only priest left to honor their god, had gasped, and her mother had wept. But her own eyes were dry then and have remained dry still.
However, the god added, should you come to realize your error, say my name and I’ll return to you. If you become mine, the curse will be lifted.
She held her tongue instead of promising That will never happen.
And so she wanders, with no people and no land to call her own. She has no responsibilities, no duties, no expectations.
She never even thinks the god’s name, and there’s so much to do, so much to see.
She laughs as the sun rises on another day, thinking, Thank you for the curse. Today, she is in San Francisco, and there is a whale-watch tour waiting for her to join, ocean air for her to breathe, another life to step into.
Title: into the woods
Original, PG, mentions of het
270 words
Prompt: Any, any female character, And I'm sorry, young man, I cannot be your friend/I don't believe in a fairytale end
“Come, Melena,” he implores, widening those clear blue eyes, face open beseechingly. “We’re destined, you and I. I know you feel it, too.”
He is the prince of the neighboring realm; they have been betrothed since her birth, merely a year after his.
“I’ll write my own ending, Darius,” she says, “no matter what either of our kings say.”
.
She is gone with the dawn, taking food from the kitchen, a small knife, and the book of spells thought to be hidden in the furthest corner of the library.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep; creatures sleep at the bottom of the lake, far out in the sea. Let her younger sister have the crown – Selena has never read the forbidden texts, never tried out any of the spells. She is the daughter Father always wanted. Melena is something else entirely.
(Be careful, sweetling, Mother had said, her last night alive, while Melena sat with her. Be wary where you whisper; watch where you step. There is much to do, yet.)
Melena is no man’s prize, and she is no queen. The sun shines above her, and the forest welcomes her. To the east, she hears the sea calling.
Darius is a good man, and he’ll be kind to Selena, which is more than can be said for most of the princes.
And if he is not kind to Selena, or Father marries her to someone else –
A funeral of ravens flies overhead, jeering down at her. She laughs, pulling out a piece of bread.
Her story has just begun. She alone will decide where it ends.
Title: the sound of God walking
Fandom: Highlander
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: mentions of violence/death
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 340
Point of view: third
Prompt: Highlander, Methos/any, everyone dies
Here's a spoiler for you: everyone dies at the end.
.
He does not remember his first life. Probably not the second through twentieth, either. Time did not matter, then. The sun rose, the sun set, people died. People thirsted, they hungered, they hunted and they fucked, they gave birth and left their dead to rot beneath the sun, to be scavenged by the animals salivating just out of reach.
Life was hard, then. And while it has become far more pleasurable, all the years since, some things are still just as hard.
People have always died.
.
A hundred, a thousand, ten thousand, a million, millions upon billions – he does not know how many lives were extinguished through his direct intervention. Does it matter? They would have died, anyway.
Of course he doesn’t regret it. How can he? He’s what all immortals are, what all humans have the potential to be.
He’s just the best at it.
.
Air conditioning. The internet. Indoor plumbing. If asked, those are his favorite things civilization has invented.
(The wheel. Language. Stories.)
.
Here’s a spoiler for you: no one can run forever.
.
He has loved many, and killed more. He has hunted nations down to their last citizen. He has built cities and raised monuments. He has taught and tortured and trained and triumphed. He has hidden for decades and strode boldly through the streets. He is a legend, a story, a myth.
He’s just a guy. At the end, he is only a man.
.
Here’s a spoiler for you: in the end, there can be only one.
.
The sun rises; his sword glints in the light, and his teeth are bared in a smile.
He does not remember his first life, or even his hundredth. There have been thousands, five thousand years – oh, so many more. He is the oldest thing on the planet.
“Well?” he calls, laughing.
.
Here’s a spoiler for you: everyone dies at the end. The pale rider rides on, astride the great horse, and the sun sets.
People always die.
Title: tell him we will meet as men, for with honor did I die
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: AU during season 2, character death
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 260
Point of view: third
Prompt: Any, any, "I wish I was sorry, but I'm not."
(The paper is crumpled, dotted with blood, and left beneath the sheriff’s coffee mug. Stiles has been missing for six hours when he reads it.)
Hey, Dad.
I’m not sure - There are so many lies. These past few years – well, you’ve been there. It’s been hard. And I wish I could tell you I was sorry for all the shit I’ve done, the lies I’ve told, but – I can’t, Dad. I can’t. And I can’t explain why, either.
I know I’ve disappointed you, and I know Mom would be disappointed, too. I know that. And I’m -
I’m out of time. I’m sorry.
I love you, Dad. Don’t blame yourself, please don’t blame yourself. None of this, of any of it, is your fault, I promise – but you won’t believe me, I’ve lied too much.
I love you. No matter what else, remember that, okay? You’ve been the best, and I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better son.
I’ve got to go, Dad.
I love
(Derek Hale brings back Stiles’ body and explains everything while the sheriff cradles his son. Scott shows up halfway through, with the Argent girl and three teenagers wearing leather jackets like armor.
No apology is enough, but Hale says, “I know who did it,” and the Argent girl raises her chin to add, “I can get you close to him.”
No one makes a sound as the sheriff rocks his son back and forth in his arms. He reaches up to remove the badge from his pocket and says, “Tell me.”)
Title: a very distinctive (fill in the blank)
Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV)/Leverage
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: Takes place anytime for Leverage, but in a world where season 3 never happened for Teen Wolf
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 225
Point of view: third
Prompt: Leverage, Eliot, not many people know it, but Eliot Spencer is The Coolest Uncle Ever. Period.
"Okay, everyone," Stiles says, looking each of them in the eye, "there can be none, ABSOLUTELY NO, werewolf shenanigans for the upcoming week. Okay? Okay." He nods firmly. "NONE."
“Oh, no,” Scott breathes. “No, tell me he’s not – ”
Stiles nods, a nervous smile on his face. “He is.”
Scott facepalms.
“What?” Derek finally demands, cutting off whatever Isaac or Erica were about to say.
“My Uncle Eliot is gonna be spending the week with us,” Stiles says. “He’s ‘recuperating.’” Stiles actually uses the finger quotes and Derek rolls his eyes. “Hey, no, don’t roll your eyes at me, bucko!” Stiles says. “He’s – I don’t know what he does, he never talks about work, but he’s got scars like you would have if you didn’t heal, and I’ve made lists about it! He’s either an assassin or mob enforcer, or, like, the specialist special forces guy ever, and he will notice if anything happens.”
“Look,” Isaac says, “he’ll only be here a week, right? Not a problem.”
Stiles shakes his head, sighing.
…
(Uncle Eliot makes them in half a day.)
(Also, Chris Argent doesn’t look at Scott for months after Uncle Eliot leaves.)
(Also also, Eliot asks his older brother, “You’re really acting like you don’t know?”
His brother says, “I’ll wait for my son to tell me.”
Eliot just scoffs at him.)