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comment_fic theme is '100 words'. Minifills, coming up. And, um, to warn you? Regarding the second fill? I have no idea what's wrong with me. Really. I don't. *grins sheepishly*
Fills as they happen:
comment_fic theme is '100 words'. Minifills, coming up. And, um, to warn you? Regarding the second fill? I have no idea what's wrong with me. Really. I don't. *grins sheepishly*Fills as they happen:
Book of Enoch, Raphael/Azazel, Freedom
“Judgement Day has come,” Raphael whispered, his voice shaking. “You are to be cast into fire.”
Azazel smiled. “At least it shall be brighter,” he rasped, and laughed as the archangel flinched. “Well? Shall we go? Old friend?” He cared not. After all this time. He no longer cared.
Raphael was silent, for a moment. Silent, for a weight of eternity. And then …
A blade pricked Azazel’s chest, rested gently above Azazel’s heart, and Azazel froze, seared in sudden hope.
“No,” Raphael whispered, very quietly. “We shall not.”
And softly, as Azazel laughed, he pressed his blade home.
“Judgement Day has come,” Raphael whispered, his voice shaking. “You are to be cast into fire.”
Azazel smiled. “At least it shall be brighter,” he rasped, and laughed as the archangel flinched. “Well? Shall we go? Old friend?” He cared not. After all this time. He no longer cared.
Raphael was silent, for a moment. Silent, for a weight of eternity. And then …
A blade pricked Azazel’s chest, rested gently above Azazel’s heart, and Azazel froze, seared in sudden hope.
“No,” Raphael whispered, very quietly. “We shall not.”
And softly, as Azazel laughed, he pressed his blade home.
Little Mermaid/Cthulhu Mythos, Ursula/Cthulhu, Squidipus Rex
She fell. Monstrous, bloated, pierced full through, the sea boiling with her blood, she fell. Dethroned, at the pinnacle, her crown falling free. She fell.
Into the arms of another. Arms, and tentacles, curled about her, threaded through hers. In her death-throes, she looked up, and there he was.
Words tangled through her mind, as her wounds closed, as they sank to a darker city, a darker throne, than any Triton had dreamed. Translated from the unearthly, gibbering howl, they came to:
“Fucking ships,” Cthulhu spat, holding Ursula close. And then: “Don’t worry, my love. We’ll get them yet.”
She fell. Monstrous, bloated, pierced full through, the sea boiling with her blood, she fell. Dethroned, at the pinnacle, her crown falling free. She fell.
Into the arms of another. Arms, and tentacles, curled about her, threaded through hers. In her death-throes, she looked up, and there he was.
Words tangled through her mind, as her wounds closed, as they sank to a darker city, a darker throne, than any Triton had dreamed. Translated from the unearthly, gibbering howl, they came to:
“Fucking ships,” Cthulhu spat, holding Ursula close. And then: “Don’t worry, my love. We’ll get them yet.”
Tron: Legacy, Kevin Flynn, Loved in Hopelessness
I loved them all, he thought desperately. As they fell together, he and Clu.
Tron, loyal to the last, even remade, to a user-god who had twice abandoned him, who had watched him fall and done nothing.
Quorra, putting all her faith in the man who had built everything that had destroyed her and hers.
The thousands of programmes, imprisoned in his Grid, enslaved by his folly.
And Clu. Always, in the end, Clu.
He flung wide his arms, the only salvation he could offer. Vengeance, against the creator who had failed them. And annihilation, for the creation most betrayed.
I loved them all, he thought desperately. As they fell together, he and Clu.
Tron, loyal to the last, even remade, to a user-god who had twice abandoned him, who had watched him fall and done nothing.
Quorra, putting all her faith in the man who had built everything that had destroyed her and hers.
The thousands of programmes, imprisoned in his Grid, enslaved by his folly.
And Clu. Always, in the end, Clu.
He flung wide his arms, the only salvation he could offer. Vengeance, against the creator who had failed them. And annihilation, for the creation most betrayed.
The A-Team (TV), B.A. and Murdock, Wind of God
Murdock asked him why he wouldn’t fly with him, time and again. B.A. never answered. Until that one time, oddly serious, when he’d had to.
“I heard you,” he said. “Before Hanoi. With Hannibal.”
Murdock blinked. And then ... “I ain’t dying on the ground?” he asked, confirming, and B.A. nodded. Not that he’d’ve blamed the man. Everyone knew what happened to captured pilots in ‘Nam. But it had … stayed with him.
Murdock shook his head, rueful, amused. “B.A.,” he said. Gently, in promise. “Don’t you know that kamikaze always fly alone?”
Murdock asked him why he wouldn’t fly with him, time and again. B.A. never answered. Until that one time, oddly serious, when he’d had to.
“I heard you,” he said. “Before Hanoi. With Hannibal.”
Murdock blinked. And then ... “I ain’t dying on the ground?” he asked, confirming, and B.A. nodded. Not that he’d’ve blamed the man. Everyone knew what happened to captured pilots in ‘Nam. But it had … stayed with him.
Murdock shook his head, rueful, amused. “B.A.,” he said. Gently, in promise. “Don’t you know that kamikaze always fly alone?”
