Albino! no punch back

Butterfly
Buffy
ficlet
prompt from comment_fic was 'Tara didn't die'
warnings: character death, suicide, violence, depression, murder (nothing worse than they show on the show).


( if a butterfly farts in Africa, there will be a tornado in Kansas )

Original Fic: Fade Out, by kindkit
Remix: Fade Out (The meant to be Remix)
Angel
double drabbe


This is how Black men always die.

Every damn movie he watched with his sister and his mom (when they had electricity), the Black guy always bites it in some dead end alley.

What a fucking metaphor.

When his people are fighting for their lives and their homes, they die in abandoned factories, and in burnt out shops.

Blood stains on dirty streets.

Gunn doesn't see any other way out for himself. This is just how things work down here.

When he's in a corner office with his own secretary, wearing Armani and with the collected works of Abbot and Costello (plus a law degree) crammed into his brain, he's as far from those dead end streets as it's humanly possible to get. But he never stops thinking he won't still die on one.

When Gunn thinks about how he's going out, it's always with a weapon in hand, fighting, on the streets he was raised on.

When the time comes, it's just like he knew it would be. Blood splattering on the pavement, washed away like he never was, following the rain into the gutters. Another Black man forgotten before the sun has even risen.

Maybe he was always meant to die like this.

Original Fic: Human, by kindkit
Remix: Human (The hope springs eternal Remix)
Buffy
ficlet

Ethan Rayne is sure of one thing and it is this: Giles will save him.

Truthfully, he's been a bit of a dick to his old mate, and not all of it done to honour glorious chaos. Ethan really is just a bastard sometimes. He gets that.

He also knows just how good a man Ripper is; how he held the whole group together, kept them from falling totally off the cliff when they started to dabble with the darker magics. He even forgave him for the Halloween incident. Well, he never came after him for it, and that's as good as forgiveness in Ethan's book.

Giles will come for him, or send the Slayer. He will.

Ethan rocks back and forth in his tiny square of a cell buried so far under ground he forgets what sunlight feels like, and waits for his rescue. 74 days and counting.

Giles is coming. He knows it.

Original Fic: Nothing New Under the Sun, by jedibuttercup
Remix: Nothing New Under the Sun (The Zombies ate my brain Remix)
Stargate
drabble

Jonas Quinn isn't really here. Maybe he died fighting alongside SG-1 (that's his favourite), or maybe he never left Kelowna and died when the first Naquadria bomb went off. Maybe he lost his mind, just like his mentor did.

The women he loves is a Goa'uld. The woman he loves is dead. His world is under threat, and Jonas will likely die in the coming fight.

He sleeps in an empty bed, works with the woman who is and is not his lover. Goes back home to an empty bed.

Daniel must be a stronger man than him.

Daniel survived.

Jonas isn't sure he did.

Original Fic: Chaapa'ai, by izhilzha
Remix: Chaapa'ai (The disney world Remix)
Stargate
double drabble

Up all night surrounded by translations and books that once he might have read for fun, but are now needed to finish his next report, Daniel Jackson forgets that once the Stargate was everything.

It was proof he was right, it was a gateway to stars and worlds beyond, it lead to his wife. It was hope and life.

It's a means of conveyance. It's a job. It's one more way for the people around him to get themselves killed.

In the beginning they thought it meant 'Doorway to Heaven'. The only way that's true is if he counts the endless funerals. Itchy suits and wreaths sent through into nothing.

Why buy empty coffins when a ring of dead flowers is just as good?

When he sleeps, if he sleeps, he dreams. It's warm, and sandy and more real than real life seems lately. In his dreams the Stargate is still a thing of beauty. It ripples and dances like something living. His wife at his side, hope in his heart, Daniel Jackson stands on the edge of eternity.

When he wakes up alone, knows he won't get anymore sleep and goes back to his office. Back to the job. He has a report due.

Original Fic: Running Mates, by little_missmimi
Remix: Running Mates (The 4th spatial dimension Remix)
SPN
drabble



He runs.

If there's a track team he'll join it, because if he doesn't and the coach notices it's all sorts of unwanted attention.

They have to go unnoticed.

He runs.

The wind and the speed and the freedom are the only times Sam feels normal. He can shut out the world and his thoughts, that never shut up otherwise.

He runs.

Dean watches. He comes to the meets, and races him if there's no one else for Sam to compare himself to (it's one thing to run for pleasure, another thing to run faster than everyone else).

Sam runs, but he can't get away.

Bullet
Original
drabble
written for 15 minute ficlet
prompt was bullet



It starts with a bang.

I'm flying, twisting in the wind. I spiral out of the darkness, into life. There's fire behind me, lines scraped into me by my exit. I'm heading out into the world. My life is short, and the person I'm heading for is going down with me.

There's an expression I heard once. Everyone has a bullet with their name on it. The trick is to die from old age before your bullet finds you.

Guess this guy never heard that saying.

I hit my target. Dead center.

We both go down.

It all ends with a whimper.

Sherlock Holmes. In Space!
Sherlock Holmes
prompt was Sherlock in space, I went someplace weird with it.
for comment_fic


The meteor sped by, cheerful and glowing. In it's wake the internation space museum of literary and political figures was in ruins, debris drifting slowly, interspersed with bodies, in the cold vacuum of the black.

Drifting in a sinister fashion, moving further from the rest, was the body of Moriarty.

Closing in behind it drifted the corpse of Sherlock, pipe still in his mouth, and behind him, blue and surprised looking; Watson.

The Poetic Irony Edda, Circa 1999
Buffy
prompt was Xander/anyone, Odin hanging on the Tree of Knowledge
for comment_fic

( Wounded I hung on wind swept gallows )

Sunday
Dresden Files
ficlet/fic
prompt was school for dresdenflashfic

spoilers for Small Favours
contains canonical racial issues which I hope have been dealt with respectfully.
also references, in passing, adult situations, but nothing too graphic.

( title inspired by Cliff Burns poem of the same name )



My last waking thought
a heresy,
ghastly in its implications:
a loophole not closed
a singularity to bedevil perfection

-Sunday, by Cliff Burns

Dean/Pie
Supernatural
written for the prompt Dean, the smell of Pie, for comment_fic

this fic has been remixed here


( Pie is life )

Mary's Song
Dresden Files bookverse

quote within text is from page 109 of Death Masks, and contains spoilers for it.

character study of the Archive
contains canon suicidal impulses, which are not acted on.

( Oh Golden Child, the world will kill and eat you )

Taking Shape
Supernatural
drabble
prompt was trickster/shapeshifter on Drabble, on DW



Taking human form. It's limiting. To go from a noncorporeal creature, with all the powers of heaven, into one tiny vessel.

If Castiel were used to breathing he'd feel like he couldn't, couldn't get enough air into his new physical lungs.

Of course he doesn't need to breathe anymore than he needs to eat.

His new body, Jimmy, fits like a tight suit. He puts his arms in front of himself, stretches. The first sensation.

This corporeal thing is going to take some getting used to, but for now he has a job to do, a boy to see about a mission.

Duty
Dresden Files
prompt was Micheal at dresdenflashfic



( it is a bitter thing, to lose a friend to evil, before one loses him to death )

Original Fic: When I Grow Up, by amathela
Remix: When I Grow Up (the blood and gore remix)
for remixthedrabble
drabble,

Spine ramrod straight. Hair pulled back tight. The face of a veteran. Crisp and at the ready. She is just this side of eighteen. Proud and ready to serve. She's the perfect soldier.

She's dirty. Her uniform is torn and her hair has come loose. It's down and clinging to the grime and blood on her face. She's lost count of the number of men she's killed today. She'd follow her commander into hell. She's the perfect soldier.

She's just this side of eighteen, but feels eighty. She's a veteran, but only looks young.

She'll carve a career in blood.

Original Fic: The End of The World (in 5 steps or less), by amathela
Remix: The End of the World (in 5 steps or less):the dubious remix
for remixthedrabble
drabble


This is how it ends.

Little things. Baby steps.

We start fighting over stupid things like peanut butter. I don't care what Xander says, that peanutbutter was mine.

Lines so carefully entrenched begin to blur. Xanders feeling pretty good under my fists and palms and elbows. Which, whoa, when did he get muscles like that anyway?

Things I swore I'd never do I've done. I've conscripted civilians before, Xander, Willow, Oz, Cordelia, even Giles should have been left on the sidelines.

But this is different. These people came to me for protection.

I'm putting them on the front lines.

Even if I win, I've lost already.

Original Fic: A Day at the Hellmouth, by malnpudl
Remix: A Day at the Hellmouth:The hackysack remix for remixthedrabble
Drabble

It was stitched from the hide of the most evil cow, on a depraved stretch of ranchland, sewn by demon hands, and enchanted by dark wizards.

They sent him to the hellmouth. His mission: help bring about the apocalypse.

A heavy burden, for a hackysack.

The boy was supposed to be doing research. Hacky flew from his hands, behind the books needed to solve the current situation.

The boy's dive to catch him scattered them everywhere.

Unfortunately he'd played his hand a little soon, and the British gent brought the boys attention back to study.

From inside the boy's picket Hackey plotted out his next move.

Goodbye
Torchwood
drabble

prompt:black, and/or white and/or grey for Drabble on DW


She's fading into darkness.

He's being washed away in light.

She struggles, fights to stay, to give the information needed to save the day. I hope I did good

He's finally ready to die. He stands there, waiting. Oh God

Her pain is unbearable.

He can't feel a thing.

She dies surrounded by friends, by family, that final shot of morphine.

He's alone, trapped, watching himself decay.

She's left them all a video, in the event of her death. She gets to say goodbye.

He never gets to say a word, locked away forever in an imbreachable dungeon.

Toshiko Sato slips into darkness.

Owen Harper burns in radioactive light.

Watcher's Cup II,
Buffy,
drabble,
prompt was Cup

It was his most valued possession when it came to training a Slayer.

It had saved him more than all the books and watcher's diaries and years of training combined.

He could still remember the day, after he and his father had started talking again, after he finally accepted his duty as a Watcher after that unfortunate Ripper business.

His father had taken him aside and handed it to him.

Obviously it wasn't the same one he's using today. This was the fourth or fifth incarnation.

But as Buffy kicked him in the groin again, Giles thanked all the Gods in heaven for his cup.

Watcher's Cup
Drabble
Buffy
prompt was Cup

Faith sat Wesley down in front of the library's lone computer.

"What exactly are we doing?" he inquired, as he tried to stand up again. "We have important thing to do, I hardly think it's appropriate for me to be wasting time-"

"This'll only take a minute" Faith said, as she layed a Slayer-powered hand on his shoulder and shoved him down.

Xander queued up the Youtube video, hit play and stepped back.

From the office Buffy emerged carrying a videocamera.

But Wesley was too horrified by what was onscreen to notice.

"Good God! What are those two girls doing?!?!" He shouted before gagging.