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Title: a dream the world breathed sleeping and forgot
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: future!fic
Pairings: pre-Drusilla/Dawn
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 170
Point of view: third
Prompt: Drusilla/Dawn, the key is singing to Dru

 

She hears the stars scream the day her sweet Key is birthed from the Slayer's blood. And then she hears the Key itself, come, Mummy, come make me yours forever and ever.

A handspan of years later, after Sunnydale collapses onto the First (that foolish, pretty dark thing), she follows the Key back home, to a school on her native soil, and there she watches.

So magnificent, green sparkles lighting up the midnight sky, laughing with friends as they walk back to the dorms. Made of magic and blood, older than anything but Gaea.

There are wards around the Key; she can taste the red witch and the Watcher on the air. Two of the more powerful Magicks she's ever met, and the Key would be safe from anyone else.

And the Key catches her eye, freezes for a moment, and sends her companions on without her. "Drusilla," the gateway embodied in a darling girl breathes. "Oh, holy fuck."

The Key sings, yours yours yours.

Drusilla holds out a hand.
 




 

Title: If you wanna be brave, reach for the top of the sky
Fandom: Disney princess canon
Disclaimer: only the parents are mine
Warnings: present-day AU
Pairings: none stated
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 615
Point of view: third
Prompt: Disney, princesses, superheroes

 

In late September, while walking along the shore of the Pacific in northern California, the Olsens, a newly married couple, found a baby girl washed up on the sand. Sally gently scooped her up and Patrick quickly pulled off his shirt to wrap her in, and they rushed back to their car, and from there they sped to the nearest hospital.

No infant matching her description had been reported missing. She was in perfect health. The Olsens petitioned to keep her.

In early February, their request was granted and they took their daughter home.

o0o

In the middle of June, while walking through the woods in southern Montana, Monica Prentiss found a blonde-haired, blue-eyed toddler sleeping in a little nest on the ground. She froze in shock, gazing at the young girl, whose eyes blinked open as Monica stood there. The girl smiled, stretching and yawning, and Monica fell back in terror as a goddamned wolf stepped between them. A dozen more surrounded her, and the girl laughed.

The first wolf stared at Monica for a long, heart-stopping moment, and then turned around to gently nose at the girl. Monica held her breath and after the longest ten seconds of her life, the whole pack melted back into the woods, leaving Monica and the girl untouched.

The girl settled into her arms with ease and twirled her fingers in Monica's dark hair all the way to Monica's car, a day-long hike. She slept until they were at the ranger's station.

No toddler matching her description had been reported missing. She was in perfect health. Monica petitioned to keep her.

In late October, her request was granted and she took her daughter home.

o0o

Ariella Olsen met Rosalie Prentiss in early August. They were both five years olds and just starting kindergarten. Ariel loved to swim and spent most of her free time in streams, ponds, or puddles. Her hair was dark red, unlike her parents' brown, and her eyes a vibrant green. She related, with great excitement, the story of how her parents found her: washed up on the beach like a missing sea princess.

Rosalie delighted in nature, in the flora and fauna of the world around her. She, loudly and at great length, informed Ariella about all the native species of North America and the surrounding bodies of water, though Ariella already knew most of those.

The Olsens and Monica (who'd recently divorced husband number two) were glad that their little girls had found someone capable of keeping up with them.

Much much later, Ariella's parents and Rosalie's mother would realize how ironic their relief actually was.

o0o

When Ariella discovered she could breathe underwater and understand all the sea-going animals, the first person she told was Rosalie.

When Rosalie learned that forest creatures obeyed her commands (though she preferred to request, and that seemed to work just as well), she let Ariella know immediately.

Much much later they'd meet Jas and Anabelle and Cindra and Mel and Blanca and Ti, and they'd fight pollution and crime and poachers, and they'd save the world and the whales and the rainforest.

But that was later.

o0o

Rosalie climbed the tree like she was part squirrel while Ariella dove to the bottom of the pond as if she had fish-blood in her veins. A chipmunk shared the day's news with Rosalie and Ariella learned the legends of the pond from the oldest fish in the school.

"Come hear this!" both little girls hollered at the same time, and when they laughed, a king on a lonely throne on the ocean floor smiled, and when they promised to be friends forever, three sad sprites in a far-off wood felt a thrill of joy.










Title
: a love gift utterly unasked for by a sky
Fandom: Leverage/White Collar
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: AU for Neal's backstory; mentions of child abuse and non-con
Pairings: thoughts about Eliot/Neal; mentions of OMC/Neal
Rating: PG13
Wordcount: 650
Point of view: third
Prompt: Leverage/White Collar, Eliot/Neal, Neal didn't owe many people favors.

 

Neal doesn't owe many people favors. He goes out of his way to avoid it, actually. He learned early that anyone with power over him would abuse it, and he spent most of his life trying to reach a place where no one could touch him.

(Yeah, that didn't work out so well. But he knows, and he thinks maybe Peter does, too, that Neal could be gone tomorrow and not even Peter could find him again.

Neal's had almost two years, now, to learn how the FBI works from the inside. He could vanish in an hour and never leave a trail for Peter to pick up.)

Neal hates to owe favors, and there are three people in the world he knows he can never repay. He'll owe them forever, and the three of them will never ask him to settle the debt. None of them even think a debt exists.

Peter's the third, for this chance to go legitimate. And the way he keeps trusting Neal, the way he's let Neal into his life. Letting him have Elizabeth as an almost-sister, letting Satchmo sprawl all over him on the couch that no other agent would've let him touch. Treating him like something between a kid-brother and a son. (At least, the way Neal thinks a son should be treated. Not something he ever really knew before Peter.)

Mozzie's second, because of that thing when Neal was seventeen. Taking in a punk kid with a broken arm, bruises, and blood. Tucking him into bed with chicken soup and hand-feeding him when anyone else would've just thrown him back onto the street. It took Neal four months to believe Moz would never demand repayment, and that's why Neal will take any job Mozzie asks of him.

And Eliot. Eliot Spencer. That wasn't his name then, of course. Either of them. Neal wouldn't be Neal for ten years, and Eliot wouldn't be Eliot until he started retrieving the impossible.

Neal was six and Eliot ten when they met at the Danwall's, a foster family in Topeka. Eliot had a sister somewhere in the system and Neal was completely alone. Eliot was angry at the world; Neal was tiny and still dreamt of happily ever after.

Neal has had over two decades to think about those months. Every angle, every possible ending. Almost a decade of following Eliot's career, covertly, of course. Wouldn't do to lead the authorities to one of three men in the world he'd pick up a gun for.

And Neal has thought about what he'd tell Eliot, if he ever worked up the nerve to speak to him again.

(Vince Danwall always watched Neal. And Eliot always watched Vince.

Vince wasn't the first or last man to look at Neal like that, but he was the first to make a move. Eliot was almost too late, and he was barely eleven years old. But he did have surprise on his side, and a carving knife he stole from the kitchen.

Neal, Eliot, and another boy were taken from the Danwall family. Vince died before the paramedics arrived.

Eliot taught Neal that he could fight back, and it would be ten years before someone finally got the better of him.

And if he ever works up the nerve to show up at the apartment Eliot never takes anyone to, if he actually had the guts to knock on that door, he thinks he would kiss Eliot, and pull him close, and just soak up his warmth and his strength and his sheer presence.

Because that decade taught him that he could be something more. They're how he survived that night he collapsed a dozen feet from Moz and four years in prison.

He'd try to thank Eliot, but words don't exist for what a kid two days past his eleventh birthday gave a sobbing six year old.)

 




 

Title: come touch a copy of you
Fandom: Dark Angel
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: fluctuating tenses; future!fic
Pairings: none stated
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 390
Point of view: third
Prompt: Dark Angel, Max/Alec (friendship or more), "You don't know what you're talking about, Max"

 

i

You don't know what you're talkin' about, Max, he'd said. Softly, almost gently, with a look in his eyes she'd never seen before, not on his face.

Maybe, it's that she never looked.

Tell me about Ben, he'd said, and she'd thought he was giving her a hard time. She was stressed, and annoyed at the world, and angry at White and humanity and all the people counting on her but not understanding that she wasn't perfect.

And Alec just let himself into her room and asked about the brother dead at her own hand.

So, yeah, she lashed out. Knew he could take it. He could always take it and bounce back, but then she mentioned Rachel and the fucking virus that still keeps her from Logan and when Alec almost killed her and Joshua.

And Alec just looked at her. Anger and sorrow and pain in his eyes, a split second, and then he closed off and he said, You don't know what you're talkin' about, Max.

Which is always the case when it comes to him. From the moment he walked into her cell, to when he asked about his dead twin brother, she has never understood him.

He's different from her and everyone else in Terminal City, everyone she's ever met.

You don't know what you're talkin' about, Max, he said, and then, Later, Maxie, as he let himself out of her room.

It was less than a minute before she took off after him, but he was gone, and that was three days ago. He's not in the City anymore, and she honestly doesn't know if he'll be back.

Everyone's angry at her for it, Mole and Joshua and Gem and everyone.

She's angry at herself.

She hopes he comes back. She'll tell him about Ben if he does, all the stories Ben used to make up, how warm and safe she felt with his words twining around her, how glad and heartbroken she was when he showed up in Seattle. Ben, who'd been the best of them, once upon a time, their dreamer and their dream, the brightest. The most broken.

Tell me about Ben, he'd said, wearing Ben's face, in that same voice Ben had said when you wake up in the morning—

She'll tell him, if he comes back.







 

Title: spirit of the sea
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: really weird; future!fic
Pairings: Jack/Black Pearl, Calypso/Jack
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 150
Point of view: third
Prompt: Pirates of the Caribbean, author's choice, S/he missed the waves

 

She misses the waves, and salt air, and the creatures that swam around her, beneath her, through her when she finally sank deep and let herself go.

go where? nowhere. still there, on the bottom of the sea, waiting

ever ever waiting

clever Jack will come back

She was beloved by he who eventually became the god of trickery, Coyote's cousin and Anansi's nephew, consort to Calypso, child and lover of the sea.

And he loves her more than the goddess, and she rests, waiting, waiting

clever Jack come back

And yes, finally, the summons, the call, and her rotting wood stays in the ocean, but she, her spirit and her soul, brought to life by deals and will, she rises

up

out

through

beyond

There are new legends now, a god of the black, ancient and forever young, with his ship with a soul named Pearl.


 


Comments

tigriswolf
Feb. 3rd, 2011 03:21 pm (UTC)
Thank you so much!

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tigriswolf
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