Comment Pr0n Day 3
The last of the comment pr0n AND the watcher fics that were previously submitted!
The reveal and winners will be announced tonight! 10 points separate #1 from #4 and, thus, we're doublechecking our figures.
Title : The Hermit and the Hanged Man Author : potteresque_ire Rating : G Word Count : 426 Prompt : All Entries on Prompt List Summary : Crashing along disparate paths, two fates collided and, once again, intertwined. A rhyme designed to be read aloud. Many thanks to the ever fantastic weasleywench for the beta work!
The Hermit and the Hanged Man
Once there was a hermit, the Saviour of his world. His wand, mightier than swords, the woes of Devil cured. They spoke of his powers, they marvelled at his strength; like the chariot of Apollo, he bestowed Light with wings.
Once there was a hanged man, his past echoed of Death. His name, scorned and disgraced, a taut chain on his neck. They heckled at his freedom, at justice sold by riches – coins that filled silver cups, the envy of empresses.
Once there lived a hermit, his heart was lone as Death. For in him lurked a Darkness, a shadow toned with dread. He’d failed their dreams as a sun, his thirst for blood too strong; bolts of lightning composed him, blinding spears that smote the wrong.
Once there lived a hanged man, forsaken by the world. On stormful nights, he dreamt of towers, wheels of fortune yet unfurled. Condemned to shadows he had been, flickers of his own namesake; the silver moon he longed to be, a mirror lit with stolen flames.
Once the hermit met a man – a former foe, drunk with despair. He sat and let his judgment shed as he listened to a soul laid bare. He heard of landscapes mired with gloom, where Light was a stranger gone too soon. He heard of wishes for the moon – hopes in slivers, sheens against doom.
Once the hanged man hexed someone – a former foe, a meddlesome one. He felt his pride torn to shreds when he sobered on his bed. Grinning, that git dared suggest that temperance really wasn’t bad. Soothing potions found his hands; ill will hence came to an end.
Once the hermit shared his fears for senses that his anger reaved, for innocence that the lighting seared. In few words, his heart was freed – whilst the sun, the night must flee, those in Darkness, lightning see; brief and vicious it might be; one glimpse of mercy served their plea.
Once the hanged man fell in love with a soul brave as ‘twas tough. As the sun was soon to rise, an epiphany came to mind. Stars, not moons, were distant suns – their fates were meant to weave as one; thus when eastern skies turned bright, he leaned forward and kissed the Light.
Some called the hanged man Magician, others deemed the hermit Fool; how these two men lovers turned, hierophants wished they understood. But the hermit, soul mate gained, and the hanged man lost his chain; news soon spread of vows exchanged, of joy so great, it eased all pain.
- Finis
Prompt: The Devil Rating: M to be on the safe side Summary: The ministry is holding a halloween party of sorts. Hermione's idea of course. Harry is intrigued by a stranger...
Fic: Harry Potter was dressed as a squire.
If it weren’t for Hermione he wouldn’t have even come to this blasted Halloween party. Although some of the costumes were simply divine. Harry watched with a certain amount of awe. Couples danced around the room so swift and elegant like dolphins through the water. Harry himself was dressed mainly in black. A pair of black jeans clung quite nicely to his legs and hips and he wore on his feet a pair of knee high boots. They were old fashioned and laced up at the side. His shirt hung loose and ghosted his muscles, it was a deep sapphire blue which Harry himself had chosen. To complete the outfit was a swishy black cloak, a mandolin on his back, and a sequined mask which covered the top half of his face, secured safely there by magic.
Averting his gaze back to the dance floor an electric blue fairy whizzed past Harry from the gardens. He watched it fly back to a few of its companions. Suddenly they scattered as the sound of boots crunching came to Harry’s ears. A slim man wrapped completely in ruby red wizard robes was making his way back into the hall. His mask was covered in thousands of glistening gems, ranging from the darkest red to the pearliest of pinks. The mask itself was in the form of a devil, with two twisted horns curling towards the sky at the top. Harry watched the man with fascination as he walked towards some woman dressed as a black cat. Harry could see in his hand a thorny yellow rose, vibrant against the pale of his skin. Like Harry, the man’s mask covered only half of his face.
Harry shook his head and turned to get a drink.
The next thing he knew it was dark he was being pressed up against a wall, hot breath tickling his cheeks as his unidentified attacker pressed a thigh forward to hold him in place. Soft warm lips found his and Harry found he was being kissed. No, he was being eaten. He had never felt anything like it; so forceful but yet gentle, and with a level of passion new to Harry. Before he knew it he was kissing back. Their tongues clashed with a slight wet noise, as Harry let out a gasp and a rough moan and pushed forward a little. A pair of large hands wound themselves in Harry’s hair and his mask hit the ground with a quiet clunk. The stranger let out a delightful whimper and sucked on Harry’s upper lip, pressing him harder against the wall. Harry smoothed his hands over the stranger’s waist, whom he had determined was male the moment he had thrust his thigh up against Harry’s groin. The thigh which was now moving quickly in between Harry’s legs and creating such delightful friction. As the mysterious man moved his head down to nibble Harry’s collar bone downy hair brushed against the underside of his chin. Harry moaned and tilted his head back just as he felt something sharp press into the palm of his hand.
The lights turned on and the weight of the man was gone. In fact, he was nowhere to be seen. All that was left of him was a single handsome rose, yellow as the sun and looking up at Harry from his right hand.
Title: To Fall From Grace Rating: PG-13 Prompt: The Hanged Man Warnings: Major Character Death, some language, bigotry/hate crime Summary: The hatred of others has destroyed not one life, but two... When the term Hanged Man comes to mind, i imagine the death serving more as an example and a warning to others than as a punishment. There is no better example than someone famous. Written By: Deathxsnoosnoo
His body feels heavy as it slumps lifelessly against me. I collapse beneath the weight of it, giving in to the pull of gravity against us. It happened so quickly; two simple words and a flash of green light, with less warning than the time it takes to fall to the end of the rope, and he was dead.
I feel hollow sobs tearing their way from my chest, but I can't feel them strain against my ribs. I can't feel anything except for him, resting limply in my arms. My mind has retreated within itself, aware of its surroundings, but no longer a part of it.
It seems not even saving the world condones following a wayward heart. Leaning down, I kiss his lifeless lips, yearning foolishly for reciprocation. It doesn't come.
No one rushes to my side. No one offers help or condolences or identifies the murderer. All in all, the street is filled with a surreal sense of relief; relief that my lover is dead. I'm all alone, the lone mourner in a sea of countless faces.
It may have been a curse that killed him, but he was hung on the gallows of public condemnation. It hardly matters who tied the rope; whoever it was is only a servant of the people.
I'm in the fucking street, holding the still warm corpse of my lover, and people have the audacity to clap.
It is a victory, after all. It would hardly do to have a fag as a hero. What would the children do? Death was the only solution.
In a way, I killed him; I sealed his fate long ago. A reporter's camera and the headline "Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy Caught in a Lover's Embrace" had been the weapons thrust into my hands. I had been so young and naïve that I had actually dared to play with them, not realizing the damage they could do.
I'm stroking his hair, have been stroking his hair for Merlin knows how long without even realizing it. I have lost all concept of time. His infuriatingly unruly mop of hair had always been a sign to the world that this one, this Child of Fate, would not conform. He would never conform.
Under the scrutiny of countless stares, I have the most absurd thought. I may never brush my hair again.
The shock of sudden loss has shackled my ability to think. In a way it feels like me upon the gallows. Tomorrow, the reality of not only his death but mine will hit me and I will scream and curse the heavens. I will beg and plead with every Power for one more day in his presence. I will offer the shattered remnants of my soul as a sacrifice, as a trade. Tomorrow, I will call for justice and demand the shedding of blood. Tomorrow, guilt will drown me. Tomorrow, I will have truly lost him.
For now, though, I hold him and I cry.
And the last of the prompts are the art prompts:
Cups Coins Wands Swords Most Important H/D Moment from the Books