comment-fic
Title: Winter Wonderland
Fandom: Avengers movieverse
Word count: 612
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Marvel Cinematic Universe
Prompt: Loki, snow
It never snows on Asgard.
The first time Loki sees snow, he has snuck away through the secret paths between worlds, the ones that his play-adventuring has only recently brought him to discover. At the other end of this particular path, he finds a white world. The ground is white. The trees are clad in crystalline white instead of leaves. Even his breath forms white vapour before his eyes.
The white ground is soft, he realises, except for where it is hard, and it is always pleasant to the touch. He runs about and builds white sculptures, for hours and hours, until he cannot stop yawning and can barely keep his eyes open.
He collapses onto the white, and then, because he does not want to sleep exposed to any monster that might happen by, he starts to dig. When he curls up to sleep beneath the white, his slumber is more peaceful than it has ever been before.
He awakens to the sight of Father looking at him unhappily. Oh. He should have gone home instead of falling asleep, shouldn't he?
Mother is fretful. He could have frozen to death, she says, out there alone in the snow and the ice.
"It didn't feel like dying," he says. "It felt nice." He smiles at Mother, hoping to see her reassured, but instead she has gone quiet and pale.
He does not know what he said wrong, but he decides then and there that he should always choose his words carefully.
"You must be more careful, Loki," says Father. "Don't sneak out alone in the future."
Loki frowns, but Father frowns back, so he says "Yes, Father," and tries to look as honest as possible. Silently, he promises to be more careful about getting caught.
~
The first time Loki encounters snow in the company of others, it is also the third time he accompanies Thor and his warrior-friends in their exploration of other worlds.
Thor and his friends are merry at first, laughing and talking as they tramp through the snow in search of monsters to fight, but after awhile they do not laugh so loudly nor talk so frequently. They clutch their cloaks all the tighter, and they look to be trembling.
Fandral catches his eye. "If you have some spell to keep you warm, Loki, you could share with the rest of us!" he says, cheerfully enough, although he is still shaking and the tip of his nose is red.
Loki doesn't understand. The air is pleasant, especially where it brushes over his bare skin. Are the others playing a trick on him?
He gives a deliberately mysterious smile, but does not say anything.
By the time they get back home, he is the only one who is not coughing and miserable and ill. He watches Thor curl in on himself, and thinks he might now understand Mother's worry, all those years ago.
Maybe his magic protected him after all, without him even realising it.
~
And isn't that a grand joke? It wasn't any innate spell at all, unless one's species can be considered such.
After all, it is only natural that a monstrous jötunn would feel at home in snow and ice and cold. How Odin must have laughed, as he piled secrets on secrets and did not say a word.
Burning... heat...
~
Loki lies there in the Midgard snow, and he had never before felt anything this glorious.
Soon, he must return to the task that Thanos gave to him. Soon...
He wishes that he could stay here for long enough to freeze away every last bit of heat within him, but first he has things to do.
Title: My damned soul to keep
Fandom: Black Butler
Word count: 265
Disclaimer: I don't own Black Butler
Warning: Horror themes
Prompt: Without begging for mercy to anyone, I'll burn in Hell's fire while laughing.
There is a trail of bodies in London, and they lead to Earl Ciel Phantomhive.
And now, they end. The vengeance is complete.
See a child dressed in fine clothes. One eye is vivid blue, the other is imprinted with the purple, faintly glowing image of a stylised pentacle. He is still, his eyes are distant and cold. He is Earl Ciel Phantomhive.
A footstep falls behind him, loud in the silence of the lavish room. He turns to see his butler, who smiles with hungry eyes, and he knows that the noise of the footfall was deliberate.
"Sebastian," he says. "It's over."
It isn't really a question, but Sebastian, his eyes red like hellfire, answers anyway. "Yes."
Ciel laughs, but it is not a happy sound. It is cold and empty.
"Make it hurt," he says.
The butler's eyes widen, just for a moment, and then he goes down on one knee. His head lowers and his back bends in a seemingly demure bow. "Yes, my lord," he says.
Ciel's smile is like razorblades and shards of ice.
Sebastian steps close, a white-gloved hand closes over Ciel's shoulder. Ciel goes silently where he is lead, that half-broken smile still stretched across his face. He laughs as he sprawls over an armchair. It is that same cold, empty laughter.
He continues to laugh as Sebastian leans over him.
The white gloves slide easily from Sebastian's hands, drop without care to the plush carpet.
There is nothing human about Sebastian's eyes, now.
Ciel continues to laugh as Sebastian draws out his soul and swallows it down.
Title: suffer the little children
Fandom: Avengers movieverse + Norse mythology
Word count: 835
Disclaimer: I don't own the Marvel Cinematic Universe.
Warnings: Inhumane treatment of sentient beings
Prompt: Loki's children, they escape and return to Asgard to free him; Ragnarök, eternities early
Sleipnir makes the first move.
They should have remembered who his dam was, before they assumed him nothing more than a simple beast of burden. They should have realised that he has been listening and learning, all these millennia as Odin's favoured steed.
He remembers being a shaky-legged foal, his dam at his side. He remembers his easy acceptance of Loki's shapeshifting (isn't that something all dams do no dear one it is not) and he remembers everything Loki ever told him, before he was taken away and broken to saddle and bridle.
Isn't that when Loki's playful tricks started veering into cruelty? Funny how a supposed dumb beast is the only one to have noticed that, even if he hasn't received the appropriate socialisation to really understand what it might mean.
What he does understand is that Loki is now a prisoner somewhere in Asgard (have you heard what loki did on midgard i'll tell you only beasts to hear us here) and that should not be. Do none of them understand that Sleipnir has served with the understanding that Loki is and always will be free?
No one notices as he slips away in the night. Neither of his parents have eight legs, but his dam is a consummate shapeshifter, and they all seem to have forgotten that as well.
~
He finds his way to Hel's realm. The way, and the place itself, is cold and dark and dangerous, but that's fine. He has carried Odin headlong into more frightening places than this.
He saw her several times, long ago when she was a little girl. The other horses shied away, but he did not mind the charnel smell that always lingered about her. He did not even mind when she trailed dead fingertips down his face.
He wonders what she is like now, this dreaded goddess of death, always spoken of in whispers. His sister.
He walks right into her hall, his form the eight-legged horse he is so well-known as, and she looks at him with wide eyes. Something moves in the shadows, but goes still again at a gesture from her.
"Sleipnir?" Her gaze takes in the absence of bridle, saddle and rider. She smiles, slow and wide, and moves to meet him.
His sister tangles her fingers in his mane and presses her cold lips to his skin, and he knows that everything will be alright, finally. He does not know what to do next, but he has faith that she does.
~
They go to a deep, dark cave where their brother Fenrir is kept. The great wolf is chained, and a great blade has been shoved through his muzzle, keeping it closed and still.
He looks a horror, and not simply in the manner of a monster. How long has he been here, unable to run or hunt or eat, only able to stretch a little?
Hel is at his side in an instant, murmuring soothing nonsense as she works to free him. Sleipnir lingers further back, observing silently.
He never really interacted with Fenrir, only saw him once or twice from a distance, long ago when the wolf was young and still a favoured hunter in Asgard. Before the æsir heard a prophecy and decided Fenrir was too dangerous to keep, too dangerous for decency.
He meets Hel's eyes. "Brother," she says. "Would you collect Jormungand, from the Midgard oceans? I shall stay with Fenrir."
He nods. Find and summon the whale-eating sea serpent, yes, he can do that.
Especially if he takes the form of a giant snake. If he had realised how much he would enjoy shapeshifting once he started really experimenting with it, he might have done all this centuries ago.
~
It is an incredible feeling, to swim in all the vast oceans, with such a sinuous, supple body. Sleipnir thinks that he might return to this, at least for a little while, after everything is over. Oh, he already knows that he will always return to running, but this...
Well, it certainly has a charm, an allure, of its own.
Jormungand yawns and uncoils. "Alright, brother," he says. "Let's get started."
~
They leave destruction in their wake. The time for stealth has passed, now that Fenrir has recovered and Sleipnir has refined his abilities, now that they have called all the enemies of Asgard to their banner.
They reach Loki, just as was their aim all along, and he looks at them with laughter and savage pride in his eyes. Hel's fingers trail magic as they work deftly at the metal contraption that has kept him gagged. Finally it opens, revealing reddened skin and a few sores where it has chafed.
"My children," he murmurs, and his voice is quiet and rasping from disuse. "Aren't you a bit early?"
"No such thing," says Fenrir.
For their own safety and that of their family, and for Sigyn and the ill-fated twins growing inside her, and in memory of Angrboða,
They will burn it all.
Title: Ashes of the Old World
Fandom: Death Note
Word count: 209
Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note
Pairing: Light/Misa
Prompt: It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine. (R.E.M.)
When Misa touches the scrap of paper, it all comes rushing back.
She smiles. She laughs. The world will never be the same again, and now she remembers why. There are tears falling from her eyes, now, but she knows they must be tears of joy.
"Oh, Light," she says. "You did it. I'm so happy."
He kisses her, and oh! she will never tire of feeling this. Light is her everything, her entire world, and at any moment she could die happily, if only she felt his kiss and saw his smile.
"Lord Kira," she says, with wonder and fierce pride, after he pulls back. "My Lord Kira."
He brushes a strand of hair back from her face, gentle and loving, and he looks at her with such tender love that she feels as though her heart might burst with the joy of it. He might have had a different expression just after she spoke, but it was only for a moment. It hardly matters, does it?
If it did matter, she would not be here tonight.
"Misa," he says. "My goddess of the new world. I have a task for you."
"Yes, anything. Oh Light, I would even die."
"Good," he says. He's smiling so. very. wide.
Fandom: Avengers movieverse
Word count: 612
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Marvel Cinematic Universe
Prompt: Loki, snow
It never snows on Asgard.
The first time Loki sees snow, he has snuck away through the secret paths between worlds, the ones that his play-adventuring has only recently brought him to discover. At the other end of this particular path, he finds a white world. The ground is white. The trees are clad in crystalline white instead of leaves. Even his breath forms white vapour before his eyes.
The white ground is soft, he realises, except for where it is hard, and it is always pleasant to the touch. He runs about and builds white sculptures, for hours and hours, until he cannot stop yawning and can barely keep his eyes open.
He collapses onto the white, and then, because he does not want to sleep exposed to any monster that might happen by, he starts to dig. When he curls up to sleep beneath the white, his slumber is more peaceful than it has ever been before.
He awakens to the sight of Father looking at him unhappily. Oh. He should have gone home instead of falling asleep, shouldn't he?
Mother is fretful. He could have frozen to death, she says, out there alone in the snow and the ice.
"It didn't feel like dying," he says. "It felt nice." He smiles at Mother, hoping to see her reassured, but instead she has gone quiet and pale.
He does not know what he said wrong, but he decides then and there that he should always choose his words carefully.
"You must be more careful, Loki," says Father. "Don't sneak out alone in the future."
Loki frowns, but Father frowns back, so he says "Yes, Father," and tries to look as honest as possible. Silently, he promises to be more careful about getting caught.
~
The first time Loki encounters snow in the company of others, it is also the third time he accompanies Thor and his warrior-friends in their exploration of other worlds.
Thor and his friends are merry at first, laughing and talking as they tramp through the snow in search of monsters to fight, but after awhile they do not laugh so loudly nor talk so frequently. They clutch their cloaks all the tighter, and they look to be trembling.
Fandral catches his eye. "If you have some spell to keep you warm, Loki, you could share with the rest of us!" he says, cheerfully enough, although he is still shaking and the tip of his nose is red.
Loki doesn't understand. The air is pleasant, especially where it brushes over his bare skin. Are the others playing a trick on him?
He gives a deliberately mysterious smile, but does not say anything.
By the time they get back home, he is the only one who is not coughing and miserable and ill. He watches Thor curl in on himself, and thinks he might now understand Mother's worry, all those years ago.
Maybe his magic protected him after all, without him even realising it.
~
And isn't that a grand joke? It wasn't any innate spell at all, unless one's species can be considered such.
After all, it is only natural that a monstrous jötunn would feel at home in snow and ice and cold. How Odin must have laughed, as he piled secrets on secrets and did not say a word.
Burning... heat...
~
Loki lies there in the Midgard snow, and he had never before felt anything this glorious.
Soon, he must return to the task that Thanos gave to him. Soon...
He wishes that he could stay here for long enough to freeze away every last bit of heat within him, but first he has things to do.
Title: My damned soul to keep
Fandom: Black Butler
Word count: 265
Disclaimer: I don't own Black Butler
Warning: Horror themes
Prompt: Without begging for mercy to anyone, I'll burn in Hell's fire while laughing.
There is a trail of bodies in London, and they lead to Earl Ciel Phantomhive.
And now, they end. The vengeance is complete.
See a child dressed in fine clothes. One eye is vivid blue, the other is imprinted with the purple, faintly glowing image of a stylised pentacle. He is still, his eyes are distant and cold. He is Earl Ciel Phantomhive.
A footstep falls behind him, loud in the silence of the lavish room. He turns to see his butler, who smiles with hungry eyes, and he knows that the noise of the footfall was deliberate.
"Sebastian," he says. "It's over."
It isn't really a question, but Sebastian, his eyes red like hellfire, answers anyway. "Yes."
Ciel laughs, but it is not a happy sound. It is cold and empty.
"Make it hurt," he says.
The butler's eyes widen, just for a moment, and then he goes down on one knee. His head lowers and his back bends in a seemingly demure bow. "Yes, my lord," he says.
Ciel's smile is like razorblades and shards of ice.
Sebastian steps close, a white-gloved hand closes over Ciel's shoulder. Ciel goes silently where he is lead, that half-broken smile still stretched across his face. He laughs as he sprawls over an armchair. It is that same cold, empty laughter.
He continues to laugh as Sebastian leans over him.
The white gloves slide easily from Sebastian's hands, drop without care to the plush carpet.
There is nothing human about Sebastian's eyes, now.
Ciel continues to laugh as Sebastian draws out his soul and swallows it down.
Title: suffer the little children
Fandom: Avengers movieverse + Norse mythology
Word count: 835
Disclaimer: I don't own the Marvel Cinematic Universe.
Warnings: Inhumane treatment of sentient beings
Prompt: Loki's children, they escape and return to Asgard to free him; Ragnarök, eternities early
Sleipnir makes the first move.
They should have remembered who his dam was, before they assumed him nothing more than a simple beast of burden. They should have realised that he has been listening and learning, all these millennia as Odin's favoured steed.
He remembers being a shaky-legged foal, his dam at his side. He remembers his easy acceptance of Loki's shapeshifting (isn't that something all dams do no dear one it is not) and he remembers everything Loki ever told him, before he was taken away and broken to saddle and bridle.
Isn't that when Loki's playful tricks started veering into cruelty? Funny how a supposed dumb beast is the only one to have noticed that, even if he hasn't received the appropriate socialisation to really understand what it might mean.
What he does understand is that Loki is now a prisoner somewhere in Asgard (have you heard what loki did on midgard i'll tell you only beasts to hear us here) and that should not be. Do none of them understand that Sleipnir has served with the understanding that Loki is and always will be free?
No one notices as he slips away in the night. Neither of his parents have eight legs, but his dam is a consummate shapeshifter, and they all seem to have forgotten that as well.
~
He finds his way to Hel's realm. The way, and the place itself, is cold and dark and dangerous, but that's fine. He has carried Odin headlong into more frightening places than this.
He saw her several times, long ago when she was a little girl. The other horses shied away, but he did not mind the charnel smell that always lingered about her. He did not even mind when she trailed dead fingertips down his face.
He wonders what she is like now, this dreaded goddess of death, always spoken of in whispers. His sister.
He walks right into her hall, his form the eight-legged horse he is so well-known as, and she looks at him with wide eyes. Something moves in the shadows, but goes still again at a gesture from her.
"Sleipnir?" Her gaze takes in the absence of bridle, saddle and rider. She smiles, slow and wide, and moves to meet him.
His sister tangles her fingers in his mane and presses her cold lips to his skin, and he knows that everything will be alright, finally. He does not know what to do next, but he has faith that she does.
~
They go to a deep, dark cave where their brother Fenrir is kept. The great wolf is chained, and a great blade has been shoved through his muzzle, keeping it closed and still.
He looks a horror, and not simply in the manner of a monster. How long has he been here, unable to run or hunt or eat, only able to stretch a little?
Hel is at his side in an instant, murmuring soothing nonsense as she works to free him. Sleipnir lingers further back, observing silently.
He never really interacted with Fenrir, only saw him once or twice from a distance, long ago when the wolf was young and still a favoured hunter in Asgard. Before the æsir heard a prophecy and decided Fenrir was too dangerous to keep, too dangerous for decency.
He meets Hel's eyes. "Brother," she says. "Would you collect Jormungand, from the Midgard oceans? I shall stay with Fenrir."
He nods. Find and summon the whale-eating sea serpent, yes, he can do that.
Especially if he takes the form of a giant snake. If he had realised how much he would enjoy shapeshifting once he started really experimenting with it, he might have done all this centuries ago.
~
It is an incredible feeling, to swim in all the vast oceans, with such a sinuous, supple body. Sleipnir thinks that he might return to this, at least for a little while, after everything is over. Oh, he already knows that he will always return to running, but this...
Well, it certainly has a charm, an allure, of its own.
Jormungand yawns and uncoils. "Alright, brother," he says. "Let's get started."
~
They leave destruction in their wake. The time for stealth has passed, now that Fenrir has recovered and Sleipnir has refined his abilities, now that they have called all the enemies of Asgard to their banner.
They reach Loki, just as was their aim all along, and he looks at them with laughter and savage pride in his eyes. Hel's fingers trail magic as they work deftly at the metal contraption that has kept him gagged. Finally it opens, revealing reddened skin and a few sores where it has chafed.
"My children," he murmurs, and his voice is quiet and rasping from disuse. "Aren't you a bit early?"
"No such thing," says Fenrir.
For their own safety and that of their family, and for Sigyn and the ill-fated twins growing inside her, and in memory of Angrboða,
They will burn it all.
Title: Ashes of the Old World
Fandom: Death Note
Word count: 209
Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note
Pairing: Light/Misa
Prompt: It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine. (R.E.M.)
When Misa touches the scrap of paper, it all comes rushing back.
She smiles. She laughs. The world will never be the same again, and now she remembers why. There are tears falling from her eyes, now, but she knows they must be tears of joy.
"Oh, Light," she says. "You did it. I'm so happy."
He kisses her, and oh! she will never tire of feeling this. Light is her everything, her entire world, and at any moment she could die happily, if only she felt his kiss and saw his smile.
"Lord Kira," she says, with wonder and fierce pride, after he pulls back. "My Lord Kira."
He brushes a strand of hair back from her face, gentle and loving, and he looks at her with such tender love that she feels as though her heart might burst with the joy of it. He might have had a different expression just after she spoke, but it was only for a moment. It hardly matters, does it?
If it did matter, she would not be here tonight.
"Misa," he says. "My goddess of the new world. I have a task for you."
"Yes, anything. Oh Light, I would even die."
"Good," he says. He's smiling so. very. wide.