(FINALLY) Here are the drabbles as per the icon drabble request.

Just assume spoilers up to current North American airing for all shows. I shall put a general disclaimer on everything now. I do not own these shows, characters, creators, their hair and makeup people or their neighbours’ cat. Or Donnie Darko, even tho I just stole a title from there that doesn't make much sense even if you have seen the movie but I like it anyway. So this is like totally like just for entertainment, dude. Chill.


Title: Open Air Cafe
Fandom: Lost
Rating: PG
Dedication: For katje0711


~o~

He was never as strong off the island. Never as fast, never as powerful. Never even as human. But just as fanatical. Just as ruthless. Just as manipulative. Maybe even more so.

He had a job to do. He had a home to find. He had a daughter to avenge. So after a while he didn’t even recognize the bodies he left behind. Beaten, shot. It didn’t matter. Most of the time he didn’t even notice. They meant nothing.

He sat in the café, the bandage still wrapped tight around his arm to suppress the bleeding. After glancing quickly around he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a folded photograph. Looking around again, he opened it, his face softening. And he ran his finger across the picture, in his eyes pushing the hair back from her face.

I’m doing this for you, Alex. I hope wherever you are, you can hear me, hear your dad. This is all for you.

He folded the photo, reverently placing it back in his pocket. Settling back into his chair he took a drink.

Someday, someday, this would all be over. And if he did it right, maybe they could be together, as well.

~o~

FIN



Title: Beyond the Expected
Fandom: Heroes
Rating: PG-13 (for themes. Dark!Fic)
Dedication: For violet_light and dref22, with help from a prompt by pojypojy


~o~

I read a magazine
That said by seventeen
Your life was at an end
I'm dead and perfectly content

“Is this death?”

“Too early to tell. Sometimes it takes a while for me.”

Noah chuckled, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. When he had first found out about Claire’s suicide attempts he was livid. Beyond livid. She tried to pass it off, claiming accidents and mishaps but he never believed her. And he dropped everything (everything) and he took her away, far away, far away from any pain that would make her think her life was not worth living. Far away from lies and fear and their past. And Sandra and Lyle didn’t understand. But then, they never did.

As they drove, as they drifted away from what they knew into some other strange land, as they journeyed she explained. She had ached for this death. Ached to be free - away from the pain, the constant anguish and guilt and disaffect that came with never being able to feel physical pain. Emotional pain beyond comprehension, yes, but never physical pain. She had seen both of them die many times for it not to be real. It was inevitable.

So when it came time, when they stood side by side, when they held hands, last minute contact before a nothing, when everything seemed to be over Noah leaned down and kissed her.

Just once. Soft. Just so he would know what it felt like.

They had decided that the only way she would be able to die is at the hands of a loved one. So he would shoot her, then himself, and see where they ended up. And the rational part of his mind rebelled but not for long. Because he always knew he would do anything for her. Even this.

The transition for death is imagined in many forms. Some people see water, some see light, some see family, some see only solitude. Perhaps it has to do with how the person lived, perhaps it has to do with how the person died.

And maybe, just maybe, it was both.

So there was one gunshot. Then another.

And then two souls standing at the precipice of a canyon, marvelling at what was before them.

He dropped his arm over her shoulder, pulling her close. “Is this death?”

And she smiled, leaning hard into him. “Too early to tell. Sometimes it takes a while for me.”

“But how do you feel?”

She wrapped her arms tightly around his middle. “Alive.”

~o~

FIN



Title: Broken Storm
Fandom: Lost
Rating: PG
Dedication: For lost_constant and crazymaryt


~o~

There’s a storm outside my window.
I feel it as it breathes.
The cold burns in my very skin,
Demanding power that boils and seethes.

Whenever I see this very storm
My soul turns into broken dust.
Its thunder is my funeral.
Its lightening disgust.

Ben, the war that wages here
Is not made of steel and bone.
You are the storm that brought the rain,
The tempest of earth and stone.

Ben, when will you leave my lonely side?
When will you let me be?
I’m dying standing next to you.
I’m dying; this is my plea.

Let this islands’ prisoners go.
Let liberty be their mother warm.
We can be your conflict shield no more,
Your anchor in the storm.

~o~

FIN



Title: 28:06:42:12
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG
Dedication: For cherrybottle


~o~

possession

that’s right my boy i have you i have you and am never letting go because you are mine harry you always have been and your pathetic mongering with your friends has only resulted in death

death everywhere but not my death

speak my words potter say them to your master the unstoppable albus dumbledore let him feel pain and loss and impotence and the bitter truth that you are nothing

nothing

yes that’s right harry fight it fight me come on you can do better than that look at me yes excellent harry that’s right keep me moving keep trying keep guessing

but you’ll never find me

never find me because i am deep inside you harry in your blood and you can never rid yourself of it because you and i are one one harry why we could even be brothers

wouldn’t that change the world

so fight it harry fight like i know you can fight you can’t let me win yet because oh my dear boy i have so many plans plans for us and plans for this world and i want you to see them harry

i want you to have a front row seat to the end of your world

because you’re a fool harry potter and you will lose

everything

~o~

FIN



Title: Evening Slaughter
Fandom: Lost
Rating: PG-13
Dedication: For turhatonz


~o~

He killed the pig himself.

An evening slaughter, armed only with a knife. And he tracked the wild thing and caught it and dove through it with the knife, relentless, relentless. He sliced through and removed the heart, warm blood pouring down his arm, looking black in the moonlight. Black and violent. Beautiful.

His hands, arms, shirt, face, hair. All covered in blood.

And it made him feel powerful. Powerful.

Because he had killed. He had the command. And as he hoisted the carcass across his shoulders he began to fantasize about feeding her tomorrow. Thinking of what he will say, what she will say, what music will be playing. Imagine after dinner, kissing on the couch, turning desperate. He would have to clean his room because he knew they would end up there. And he imagined the scenarios, positions, sensations. And he would have power there as well. Power to make her forget everything but him.

The blood began drying on his skin, a crust to keep the power inside.

Yes, yes, he was very excited about tomorrow. He would make it perfect.

~o~

FIN