comment-fic
And here's the next batch of comment_fic:
Title: To Destroy
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Word count: 589
Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist.
Warnings: Murder, sadism, Envy's head is a twisted place
Prompt: Fullmetal Alchemist, Envy, Handling the situation.
Envy wears a smug little smile for weeks after the Ishval War really kicks off. This is Envy's project, it's all happening because of Envy. Well, maybe Wrath had something to do with it, and it was really all Father's idea, but shut up, it's all happening because of Envy.
Envy remembers the wailing child, remembers grinning with a stolen face (poor little soldier boy) and pulling the trigger, and these humans are pathetic; who would ever want to be one of them or have any petty little thing they have, right, right? They're really ugly, and for a moment Envy imagines that asshole Greed saying something about projection; shut up, Greed isn't here and never said such a thing anyway.
"Hello, Envy." Lust's voice, which is smooth and rich and attracts most everyone who hears it, even as they bleed out at her elegantly-shod feet, and why were Father's children all born so different anyway? Envy doesn't say any of that, of course, never does.
Her lips are quirked into something that is like a smile but not quite it, a hint of a sneer that might be all in Envy's head. It's so hard to tell with these things, sometimes.
"You did a good job with Ishval. It's burning up from the inside, overflowing with anger and passion." She licks her lips. The look in her eyes might be wistful, like she wishes she was in the thick of it right now.
Envy grins. "Humans really are too easy to manipulate, aren't they?"
"Mm. Maybe I'll head over there myself, make sure they're properly encouraged."
Envy's face twists with sudden, unexpected resentment. "No, this is mine. I'll handle it."
Lust raises her eyebrows, and that's definitely a hint of a sneer. "Alright, Envy, if you're feeling possessive. There's other ways to kill time, and I know a handsome young man who's been just dying for a date."
Envy cackles. "Oh, I'm sure he has. Have fun then, sis."
Lust is right, of course. Ishval really is burning up from the inside, just like Envy knew would happen the moment that trigger was pulled. Humans are so damn stupid, and Envy laughs and laughs and laughs.
“Let's get started,” says Envy, probably talking to no one but possibly to the souls always screaming inside, and then leaves behind the small, cute form for a smaller, cuter one. Sun-dark skin and big red eyes, pale hair in pigtails. Older than the child Envy shot to start all of this, but still a child, at least to look at.
The Amestrian battalion is caught by surprise, their sentries' throats already opened wide and red. Panic, and the air is thick with bullets. Those fired by the soldiers hit their comrades when they hit anyone at all, because Envy is small and quick, vanishing and reappearing amidst clouds of sand, and they do not know that the enemy they fight does not always look the way they think.
Blood soaks the sand red red red and wouldn't Lust say that is the colour of passion and everything you could ever want, except herself of course?
Envy vanishes into the desert without a trace, red-eyed demon child, and does not know if this will even be remembered by the end, although it has served its purpose for now. After all, there is so much blood yet to be spilt, and humans have such short memories to go with their short, short lives.
It does not matter to Envy. Why would it?
Title: Death's Angel
Fandom: Sandman + Angel Sanctuary
Word count: 893
Disclaimer: I don't own Sandman or Angel Sanctuary
Warnings: References to self-harm, reference to cruel and unusual punishment
Pairing: Death/Uriel, one-sided Uriel/Alexiel
Prompt: The Sandman / Angel Sanctuary, Death/Uriel, the job can be awful, but fortunatly she has her personal angel
Everyone knows that Death will come in the end. Even those who seem to refuse it, who rail against it, know enough to run from something.
What many don't realise is that Death comes in the beginning as well. She is the one who infuses life.
She comes for every living thing, at both the beginning and the end. She comes for angels and demons as well, although angels are something of a unique case.
A newborn archangel breathes in their first breath, stretches wings that are deep brown like earth. Sanguine juice dribbles from the corner of their mouth, leavings of a fruit from the tree of life. The young archangel meets Death's gaze, smiles happily.
With gentle hand she brushes a stray lock back from the newborn angel's face. "Until later, little one," she murmurs, and then she is gone.
She felt the connection from the moment the angel drew their first breath. That one will be an Angel of Death, but for now she shall leave them to grow on their own.
That isn't to say she doesn't look in on them every now and then. Uriel, the little angel is called, as that one learns and grows in Heaven.
And then Alexiel rebels. Alexiel is captured, and dragged before Uriel for judgment.
Uriel, who loves her.
Death comes to watch, but no one looks to the spot where she stands. She might as well not be there at all.
She watches as a moment of rage comes over Uriel, so that he sentences the woman he loves to a horrific fate. From now on, Alexiel will reincarnate over and over, and every single life will be wrought with great difficulty, and every single death will be agony.
Death sees Uriel's horrified regret moments later, as what he has done sinks in, but it is too late to take it back. The judgment has been made and heeded.
She walks up to him, and stands quietly with her hands linked in front of her. No one stops her, no one notices her.
Except for Uriel. Some of the aghast blankness leaves his gaze, just a little. He starts to open his mouth, but she places a finger to her lips. Perhaps without knowing why, he obeys and keeps his silence.
She smiles sadly, compassionately. "Hello, Uriel. If you want to talk, I can be found in Hades, sooner or later."
She slips away through the gathered crowd of angels, who notice only enough to shiver when she brushes past them. Uriel tracks her movements until she leaves his sight, surprise and wonder taking up residence alongside the ocean of guilt and despair that has flooded him.
When he comes, it isn't to talk, exactly.
His eyes are dull, absent of joy and hope, and there is a bandage wrapped around his neck. 'Death?' his thoughts whisper, seeking to confirm a suspicion.
"Yes," she says. She unbinds the bandage with careful, gentle hands, and examines the fresh, angry scarring underneath. He catches her wrist before her fingers make contact.
'No,' he thinks to her. 'I must not speak the cursed words ever again.'
"Alright, Uriel," she murmurs, soothing. His fingers loosen; he nods and stares out at the landscape of Hades.
She stays there beside him, and holds him when he finally allows himself to cry.
He won’t cry again for a long time.
Years later, Death watches with mild disapproval as Uriel fashions himself a mask. “It’s only a short-term answer,” she points out. “Later, it can only make things worse.”
‘I need it. I can’t go on doing this, otherwise.’
Death says nothing more as Uriel makes the finishing touches to this mask with the capability to freeze hearts and turn sympathy to callousness.
~
He wears the mask. He judges the souls as has always been his task, but now he can do it without pity or remorse.
When Death comes before him, he kneels. She strokes his hair and kisses the mask that covers his face. There is sorrow in her eyes, but he does not see it.
If he did, he would not care. Like this, compassion is beyond him.
He works tirelessly, soul after soul after soul. He feels so distant and so cold.
He does nothing to stop her when she slips her fingers under the mask and tugs it away. Even as - perhaps especially as - a genuine monster, he will follow wherever she leads.
But now the mask is gone, and he stumbles. Her hands steady him, but he is trembling from the sudden return of his emotions, and he can't focus on anything.
She takes his hand in hers, and without speaking guides him to their sanctum.
~
Sometimes, Death becomes tired. She is what she is, always, but even for her that isn’t always easy.
She’s tired now, so very tired.
Uriel alights before her, his wings arched like looming crescent moons. He takes in her uncustomary slumped posture and weary eyes, and steps closer. ‘Death…’
She sighs softly and leans her head against his chest. He wraps her in his arms, and then his wings. He presses kisses to the top of her head.
For such a very long time, she has been there for him. Now, he finds that he wants nothing more than to return the favour.
Title: Delicious
Fandom: Disney's The Little Mermaid
Word count: 215
Disclaimer: The Little Mermaid does not belong to me, in any incarnation
Warnings: Consumption of human flesh, general horror theme, death
Prompt: Disney, Arielle, if mermaids were predators from the sea, who eat people?
For a moment, one shining moment, Ariel thinks that she might not do it this time. The dark-haired human boy really is handsome. She could keep him, but he would drown and he would rot, and that just would not do. If she takes him up to the surface...
There is blood in the water. She stares at it and licks her lips. She looks to the human again, sees the splinter in his hand, pulls it out. More blood flows out into the water.
Ariel runs her tongue over her sharp, sharp teeth, and then licks her lips again.
She draws the human close. She kisses his wrist, gentle and tender, and then she bites. She tastes blood and meat, and it is delicious. She swallows it down, and then she bites again.
She eats and eats until she is left with nothing but some hair and cracked bones with no marrow inside. She kisses the edge of a rib, and then lets it all go. She swims away without looking back.
Maybe next time she won't do it, she thinks, or maybe...
Maybe she will figure out how to capture a human soul, and then she can trade it to the Sea Witch for, for...
She quashes the thought. Best not be foolish.
Title: Lack of Faith
Fandom: Rise of the Guardians
Word count: 438
Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians
Warnings: Somewhat dark Jack with hints of nihilism
Prompt: Rise of the Guardians (2012), Jack (/Pitch?), Pitch makes his move a century later and by that time, Jack isn’t all that inclined to help save anyone
"You are Guardian!" says North, and Jack stares.
And then there is music and torches and...
Jack snarls and calls upon winter's cold wind. It answers as eagerly as ever, his one faithful companion after all this time. The torches' flames are snuffed; the Guardians recoil at the icy bite, for the most part. North stands his ground, but that's hardly surprising of one who makes his home at the North Pole.
Jack laughs, mocking and bitter. "Is this a joke?" he sneers. "Because your sense of humour could really use some work!"
"Is not joke," North hurries to assure. "You were chosen, Jack, by Man in Moon."
Jack laughs again, and there might be a hint of hysteria there, or even more than a hint, but Jack does not notice. After all, there has been no one to point out these things in more than four hundred years, in all of his memories.
"No, I really don't think so."
They're all frowning at him, but Jack does not care. He turns to leave.
"Jack," calls the Tooth Fairy, and flitters over to him, trailed by the Mini Teeth. Against his better judgement, he pauses. "Do you understand what it is we do?" she says, and gestures to a globe that glows with golden light.
Between them, Tooth and North explain that each light is a child that believes, a child to be protected. Jack just stares at them, his eyes flat, and their voices trail off. There is something almost... dead, about Jack's eyes.
"I don't care," he says, and his voice is as flat as the look in his eyes.
Bunny starts forward at that, all annoyance and aggression. "How can ya not care?" His fur is bristling.
Jack steps forward himself, baring his teeth. "Why else? Because I don't believe anymore!"
They stare in shock, eyes wide like they never considered such a possibility, and probably they never have.
Jack leaves without looking back, and lets the wind carry him far away.
He thinks as he flies, and slowly, so slowly, a little smile starts to form. He looks at the moon, and there is hate in his eyes. It is hate that has been slowly building to an inferno for almost four hundred years.
"What has you so worried, then?" he whispers. "What has you so worried that you'd try and make me a Guardian after all this time?"
He laughs again, and this time it is almost genuine, although the hate in his eyes is no less.
"Maybe I'll... help it along, whatever it is," he hisses. "Wouldn't that be fun, old friend?"
Title: To Destroy
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Word count: 589
Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist.
Warnings: Murder, sadism, Envy's head is a twisted place
Prompt: Fullmetal Alchemist, Envy, Handling the situation.
Envy wears a smug little smile for weeks after the Ishval War really kicks off. This is Envy's project, it's all happening because of Envy. Well, maybe Wrath had something to do with it, and it was really all Father's idea, but shut up, it's all happening because of Envy.
Envy remembers the wailing child, remembers grinning with a stolen face (poor little soldier boy) and pulling the trigger, and these humans are pathetic; who would ever want to be one of them or have any petty little thing they have, right, right? They're really ugly, and for a moment Envy imagines that asshole Greed saying something about projection; shut up, Greed isn't here and never said such a thing anyway.
"Hello, Envy." Lust's voice, which is smooth and rich and attracts most everyone who hears it, even as they bleed out at her elegantly-shod feet, and why were Father's children all born so different anyway? Envy doesn't say any of that, of course, never does.
Her lips are quirked into something that is like a smile but not quite it, a hint of a sneer that might be all in Envy's head. It's so hard to tell with these things, sometimes.
"You did a good job with Ishval. It's burning up from the inside, overflowing with anger and passion." She licks her lips. The look in her eyes might be wistful, like she wishes she was in the thick of it right now.
Envy grins. "Humans really are too easy to manipulate, aren't they?"
"Mm. Maybe I'll head over there myself, make sure they're properly encouraged."
Envy's face twists with sudden, unexpected resentment. "No, this is mine. I'll handle it."
Lust raises her eyebrows, and that's definitely a hint of a sneer. "Alright, Envy, if you're feeling possessive. There's other ways to kill time, and I know a handsome young man who's been just dying for a date."
Envy cackles. "Oh, I'm sure he has. Have fun then, sis."
Lust is right, of course. Ishval really is burning up from the inside, just like Envy knew would happen the moment that trigger was pulled. Humans are so damn stupid, and Envy laughs and laughs and laughs.
“Let's get started,” says Envy, probably talking to no one but possibly to the souls always screaming inside, and then leaves behind the small, cute form for a smaller, cuter one. Sun-dark skin and big red eyes, pale hair in pigtails. Older than the child Envy shot to start all of this, but still a child, at least to look at.
The Amestrian battalion is caught by surprise, their sentries' throats already opened wide and red. Panic, and the air is thick with bullets. Those fired by the soldiers hit their comrades when they hit anyone at all, because Envy is small and quick, vanishing and reappearing amidst clouds of sand, and they do not know that the enemy they fight does not always look the way they think.
Blood soaks the sand red red red and wouldn't Lust say that is the colour of passion and everything you could ever want, except herself of course?
Envy vanishes into the desert without a trace, red-eyed demon child, and does not know if this will even be remembered by the end, although it has served its purpose for now. After all, there is so much blood yet to be spilt, and humans have such short memories to go with their short, short lives.
It does not matter to Envy. Why would it?
Title: Death's Angel
Fandom: Sandman + Angel Sanctuary
Word count: 893
Disclaimer: I don't own Sandman or Angel Sanctuary
Warnings: References to self-harm, reference to cruel and unusual punishment
Pairing: Death/Uriel, one-sided Uriel/Alexiel
Prompt: The Sandman / Angel Sanctuary, Death/Uriel, the job can be awful, but fortunatly she has her personal angel
Everyone knows that Death will come in the end. Even those who seem to refuse it, who rail against it, know enough to run from something.
What many don't realise is that Death comes in the beginning as well. She is the one who infuses life.
She comes for every living thing, at both the beginning and the end. She comes for angels and demons as well, although angels are something of a unique case.
A newborn archangel breathes in their first breath, stretches wings that are deep brown like earth. Sanguine juice dribbles from the corner of their mouth, leavings of a fruit from the tree of life. The young archangel meets Death's gaze, smiles happily.
With gentle hand she brushes a stray lock back from the newborn angel's face. "Until later, little one," she murmurs, and then she is gone.
She felt the connection from the moment the angel drew their first breath. That one will be an Angel of Death, but for now she shall leave them to grow on their own.
That isn't to say she doesn't look in on them every now and then. Uriel, the little angel is called, as that one learns and grows in Heaven.
And then Alexiel rebels. Alexiel is captured, and dragged before Uriel for judgment.
Uriel, who loves her.
Death comes to watch, but no one looks to the spot where she stands. She might as well not be there at all.
She watches as a moment of rage comes over Uriel, so that he sentences the woman he loves to a horrific fate. From now on, Alexiel will reincarnate over and over, and every single life will be wrought with great difficulty, and every single death will be agony.
Death sees Uriel's horrified regret moments later, as what he has done sinks in, but it is too late to take it back. The judgment has been made and heeded.
She walks up to him, and stands quietly with her hands linked in front of her. No one stops her, no one notices her.
Except for Uriel. Some of the aghast blankness leaves his gaze, just a little. He starts to open his mouth, but she places a finger to her lips. Perhaps without knowing why, he obeys and keeps his silence.
She smiles sadly, compassionately. "Hello, Uriel. If you want to talk, I can be found in Hades, sooner or later."
She slips away through the gathered crowd of angels, who notice only enough to shiver when she brushes past them. Uriel tracks her movements until she leaves his sight, surprise and wonder taking up residence alongside the ocean of guilt and despair that has flooded him.
When he comes, it isn't to talk, exactly.
His eyes are dull, absent of joy and hope, and there is a bandage wrapped around his neck. 'Death?' his thoughts whisper, seeking to confirm a suspicion.
"Yes," she says. She unbinds the bandage with careful, gentle hands, and examines the fresh, angry scarring underneath. He catches her wrist before her fingers make contact.
'No,' he thinks to her. 'I must not speak the cursed words ever again.'
"Alright, Uriel," she murmurs, soothing. His fingers loosen; he nods and stares out at the landscape of Hades.
She stays there beside him, and holds him when he finally allows himself to cry.
He won’t cry again for a long time.
Years later, Death watches with mild disapproval as Uriel fashions himself a mask. “It’s only a short-term answer,” she points out. “Later, it can only make things worse.”
‘I need it. I can’t go on doing this, otherwise.’
Death says nothing more as Uriel makes the finishing touches to this mask with the capability to freeze hearts and turn sympathy to callousness.
~
He wears the mask. He judges the souls as has always been his task, but now he can do it without pity or remorse.
When Death comes before him, he kneels. She strokes his hair and kisses the mask that covers his face. There is sorrow in her eyes, but he does not see it.
If he did, he would not care. Like this, compassion is beyond him.
He works tirelessly, soul after soul after soul. He feels so distant and so cold.
He does nothing to stop her when she slips her fingers under the mask and tugs it away. Even as - perhaps especially as - a genuine monster, he will follow wherever she leads.
But now the mask is gone, and he stumbles. Her hands steady him, but he is trembling from the sudden return of his emotions, and he can't focus on anything.
She takes his hand in hers, and without speaking guides him to their sanctum.
~
Sometimes, Death becomes tired. She is what she is, always, but even for her that isn’t always easy.
She’s tired now, so very tired.
Uriel alights before her, his wings arched like looming crescent moons. He takes in her uncustomary slumped posture and weary eyes, and steps closer. ‘Death…’
She sighs softly and leans her head against his chest. He wraps her in his arms, and then his wings. He presses kisses to the top of her head.
For such a very long time, she has been there for him. Now, he finds that he wants nothing more than to return the favour.
Title: Delicious
Fandom: Disney's The Little Mermaid
Word count: 215
Disclaimer: The Little Mermaid does not belong to me, in any incarnation
Warnings: Consumption of human flesh, general horror theme, death
Prompt: Disney, Arielle, if mermaids were predators from the sea, who eat people?
For a moment, one shining moment, Ariel thinks that she might not do it this time. The dark-haired human boy really is handsome. She could keep him, but he would drown and he would rot, and that just would not do. If she takes him up to the surface...
There is blood in the water. She stares at it and licks her lips. She looks to the human again, sees the splinter in his hand, pulls it out. More blood flows out into the water.
Ariel runs her tongue over her sharp, sharp teeth, and then licks her lips again.
She draws the human close. She kisses his wrist, gentle and tender, and then she bites. She tastes blood and meat, and it is delicious. She swallows it down, and then she bites again.
She eats and eats until she is left with nothing but some hair and cracked bones with no marrow inside. She kisses the edge of a rib, and then lets it all go. She swims away without looking back.
Maybe next time she won't do it, she thinks, or maybe...
Maybe she will figure out how to capture a human soul, and then she can trade it to the Sea Witch for, for...
She quashes the thought. Best not be foolish.
Title: Lack of Faith
Fandom: Rise of the Guardians
Word count: 438
Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians
Warnings: Somewhat dark Jack with hints of nihilism
Prompt: Rise of the Guardians (2012), Jack (/Pitch?), Pitch makes his move a century later and by that time, Jack isn’t all that inclined to help save anyone
"You are Guardian!" says North, and Jack stares.
And then there is music and torches and...
Jack snarls and calls upon winter's cold wind. It answers as eagerly as ever, his one faithful companion after all this time. The torches' flames are snuffed; the Guardians recoil at the icy bite, for the most part. North stands his ground, but that's hardly surprising of one who makes his home at the North Pole.
Jack laughs, mocking and bitter. "Is this a joke?" he sneers. "Because your sense of humour could really use some work!"
"Is not joke," North hurries to assure. "You were chosen, Jack, by Man in Moon."
Jack laughs again, and there might be a hint of hysteria there, or even more than a hint, but Jack does not notice. After all, there has been no one to point out these things in more than four hundred years, in all of his memories.
"No, I really don't think so."
They're all frowning at him, but Jack does not care. He turns to leave.
"Jack," calls the Tooth Fairy, and flitters over to him, trailed by the Mini Teeth. Against his better judgement, he pauses. "Do you understand what it is we do?" she says, and gestures to a globe that glows with golden light.
Between them, Tooth and North explain that each light is a child that believes, a child to be protected. Jack just stares at them, his eyes flat, and their voices trail off. There is something almost... dead, about Jack's eyes.
"I don't care," he says, and his voice is as flat as the look in his eyes.
Bunny starts forward at that, all annoyance and aggression. "How can ya not care?" His fur is bristling.
Jack steps forward himself, baring his teeth. "Why else? Because I don't believe anymore!"
They stare in shock, eyes wide like they never considered such a possibility, and probably they never have.
Jack leaves without looking back, and lets the wind carry him far away.
He thinks as he flies, and slowly, so slowly, a little smile starts to form. He looks at the moon, and there is hate in his eyes. It is hate that has been slowly building to an inferno for almost four hundred years.
"What has you so worried, then?" he whispers. "What has you so worried that you'd try and make me a Guardian after all this time?"
He laughs again, and this time it is almost genuine, although the hate in his eyes is no less.
"Maybe I'll... help it along, whatever it is," he hisses. "Wouldn't that be fun, old friend?"