Tuesday - Solo

[atomic89.livejournal.com]

Hi, I'm (still) atomic89 and I'm back again with the second theme of the week: Solo. Basically you can only have one character in your prompt - so no couples/threesomes/moresomes!

Please remember not to leave more than five prompts in a row and no more than three per fandom per prompter. You are, of course allowed to come back later and add more once yours have been answered.

Spoilers are not allowed in your prompts until a week (7 days) has passed from the original air date. If the fic contains spoilers please mark it clearly and leave at least three spaces before the prompt/fic.

Don't forget to format your prompts correctly, for example:

T:TSCC, Derek, faith
Dollhouse, Topher, “Power corrupts. Knowledge is power. Study hard. Be evil.”
BtVS/Heroes, Dawn, Activating Evolution

If you can't find the perfect prompt for you here, don't forget to check out the Lonely Prompts! There are loads of wonderful prompts just begging to be written!

[theme tag=solo]

Comments

[atomic89.livejournal.com]

T:TSCC, Derek, faith

[atomic89.livejournal.com]

Dollhouse, Topher, “Power corrupts. Knowledge is power. Study hard. Be evil.”

Ambition: It Always Finds a Way of Biting You on the Ass;;Dollhouse;;Topher Brink

[mrsvc.livejournal.com]

"I most assuredly did NOT go to school for this. Like, really, I went to college at, like, 14, okay? I am a kid genius and I did NOT go to school and work this little genius ass off to be part of some kind of Undercover Secret Agent Laser Obstacle Death Trap Game, Intrigue, I don't even know what.

"I like games. Only, I like the fun ones, like 'Hey, who wants to play Scrabble?' not 'Hey, who wants to play Decode the Secret Meaning Behind My Every Move?'" He stopped his rant long enough to push his hair back off his forehead.

"I didn't help reinvent the way the modern man looked at the human brain so that mine could get locked up in the Attic which, by the way, I had nothing to do with that." He sat down in his computer chair, staring at the program he himself had coded and debugged for hours and hours.

"Wow, I really should have slacked off more in school."

[atomic89.livejournal.com]

BtVS/Heroes, Dawn, Activating Evolution

[dergerm.livejournal.com]

Psych, Shawn, "I hate mondays."

[dergerm.livejournal.com]

Firefly, Wash, in a bar alone while a job is going on

[daria234.livejournal.com]

Wash tried to distract himself with drink and with friendly chats with the locals.

When the locals turned out not so friendly, he mostly just talked to himself. Luckily, that seemed to be the norm.

'Positives and negatives,'he muttered, 'let's think positives and negatives.

'Negative. My wife and her "Captain" are off together, and I'm here alone. Yeah, that's definitely a negative.

'Ah! Negative! He's probably getting her shot at by some angry maniacs right this very second. Big old huge dinosaur negative.

'Negative. They're probably so close because of all the shared danger and whatnot. Later they'll just joke that it was just like that one time in the war, and no one will know why they're laughing, but hey, who cares if they have a bunch of private superspecial jokes, because who am I to care?'

He gritted his teeth as he slammed his empty glass on the bartop, signalling for more. When the bartender obliged (with a dirty look), he kept muttering.

'Negative. If it goes crap-shaped, they won't even tell me because they won't want to hear me freak out about it and it's too late for me to have any affect on their idiotic choices anyway, so why even let me know? They'll just have their own little secret, just them -- okay, this isn't making me feel better. If anything, the strong alcohol is making me more aggressive. Oh that's right, that's the usual effect. Quick, think of a positive!'

Wash seemed to be concentrating hard, and it appeared that a drunk concentrating Wash looked a mite peculiar since the other patrons started to keep their distance. Finally, though, he had his Eureka moment.

'Positive!' he said a little too loudly, 'They have to spend all day with Jayne! And I don't!'

'You say my name Wash?' he heard a gruff voice near the door say.

"What the hell are you doing here Jayne?"

"Zoe and Mal said they could handle this'un on their own. Just the two of them together. Thought I'd grab a drink or ten, so I might as well join you.... Wash, why is your face doing that?"

"No worries, Jayne. This is just the face I get when I realize there's something more depressing than drinking alone."

[mickey-sixx.livejournal.com]

Alice, Hatter, Tea is the answer to everything

[oteap.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Parker, love at first sight

[dreamer-marie.livejournal.com]

It was a completely random encounter. Someone had told her that Queen of England had green hair, but she suspected that people were making fun of her again. So she did a google search for pictures of her and that's where she saw it.
The poor thing was trapped, on top of a scepter that the (white-haired) Queen was holding. It was so big and so bright that Parker couldn't keep her eyes off it. Even in captivity, it was shiny and sparkly, and she knew there and then that it was crying to be liberated. Just like Parker had been doing before she had broken free.
But the Star of Africa would need help. Unlike Parker, it couldn't climb, or crawl, or block a heat detector. It couldn't see the guards doing their rounds, and even if it tried, it couldn't wriggle its way out of the scepter. Parker would do it. Parker knew the secret cry of diamonds and rubies and emeralds. She knew how to make the stones love her like their real queen, because she knew what they wanted.
She booked a flight to London and set out to woe the Star of Africa, so that one day it would love her back.

[dergerm.livejournal.com]

Stargate, Daniel, in between

[theeverdream.livejournal.com]

Ascension, Daniel's learned, has its own problems.

At least for him. Not for most.

And maybe not for Oma. She's balanced on the edge of interfering-and-not, and she seems to be at peace with her choices.

But Daniel can't imagine how. He has realized that he can never be at peace.

Because there is so much suffering, so very very much. He's seen it before and he sees a galaxy full of it now, and more. And everything within him cries out that he must help, because he has the power to do so.

Everything... except one, almost infinitely small part of him.

And that one part stops Daniel from eradicating the Goa'uld, from healing man's inhumanity to man.

Because that part of him is the part that knows that the universe is far larger than he possibly ever could have imagined. And even ascended, Daniel's place in that vastness is so small, that to be judge and jury and executioner would be hubris and an unimaginable wrong.

And Daniel can't help but look and look at what he cannot fix.

Vis Uban beckons.

[kijikun.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Gabriel, the nephilim

Supernatural | Gabriel | Excite Them Against

[kawaiispinel.livejournal.com]

Israfel has taken the vessel of a child, which Gabriel would find funny on any other day. She's just sitting on a bench with a lollipop, unnoticed by the masses as anything other than a little girl, but Gabriel can still pick up on those subtle nuances- the flash and spark of heaven's fire, a glimpse of tendrils of smoke in the vague shape of wings. Worst still, she picks up on him and bounds over to him, her soulless blue eyes boring into him, as if seeing down to his tainted core.

"They've been talking, Gabriel," her tiny girl's voice sounds ridiculous using that condescending tone, but it's no more ridiculous than an angel his junior talking to him like her garrison didn't follow his orders once.

If it weren't for the Winchesters, he'd still be in hiding right now. He misses that certainty that he used to have- the kind that summons anything he desires with a snap of his fingers. Now he's looking for something and he's not sure what and that kind of idiotic poking around always gets people noticed. The fact that the angels are sending Israfel in a vessel that he can't possibly find threatening says a lot- they're afraid of him. His fingers itch to banish her to the same place he sent Castiel to show the others that he won't be toyed with, but Israfel , while his junior, isn't some lowly principality- she'll put up a good fight and that's the last thing he needs.

"You used to be a lot more talkative," she chides, almost fondly.

"You're shorter than I remember," is the snarky response. "And let's see... What the hell are you doing here? Are you gonna try to kill me? If you are, that's a bad idea. Annnd ... Oh, yeah. Are you gonna finish that?" He doesn't wait for a response before he plucks the lollipop from her hands and pops it in his own mouth. There's something satisfying about stealing candy from precocious kids with angels inside them.

Israfel blinks, but that's the only reaction he gets from her, beyond a wry tug at the edge of her mouth that might be just as much of a twitch as it is a smile. "You haven't changed a bit."

"Actually, kiddo, I think I've changed a lot, but keep tellin' yourself that," Gabriel responds around the lollipop in his mouth. "Is this the part where you ask me to come back home?"

"Yes. Michael's missed you."

He suspects that's probably a lie, but Michael's always been the weird one. He still loved Lucifer, even after the betrayal. "Michael can suck it. I already told 'em where I stood on this and it ain't where he's standin'."

Israfel actually smiles at that and he glowers at her. That wasn't funny. "Like I said, you haven't changed."

He tugs the lollipop out of his mouth with a obnoxious pop. "Then why in the hell are you even trying to talk me into it? Your sales pitch ain't exactly sterling, sister."

She clasps her hands behind her back and stares up at the sky. "I'm here to remind you that you're not as noble as you're pretending to be."

He barks a laugh, nearly choking on the sucker in the process. "Is your halo crooked? Have you looked at my vessel? There ain't a noble bone left in my body. You guys are really graspin' at straws if-"

Israfel's eyes flash and there's a sudden chill in the air that wasn't there before when she stares him down, no longer interested in the sky. The entire shift in the mood is enough to make Gabriel brace himself, cutting off any jibe he might have tossed at her. "I'm referring to your insistence that you won't help one brother kill another. I seem to recall an angel who did our Father's bidding and turned the children of the Watchers against each other until they were no more."

Gabriel, for once, is silent, and Israfel closes her eyes, like the heavy burden of reminding her brother of the weight of that ancient order weighs heavily on her. "Michael sent me to remind you of that."

She's gone a moment later and all Gabriel can do is glower at the space where she was, wondering if she has any idea that maybe that sort of thing is why he doesn't get involved in anymore sibling bitchfights, because that's all it ever ends in- total annihilation.

He loves them all too much to help that happen.

[dergerm.livejournal.com]

Spaced, Daisy, on assignment (post-series)

[samueljames]

Star Trek, George Kirk, excited about the new baby.

[momma-66.livejournal.com]

Winona's sleeping and he can't. It's been happening more and more lately. She'll drift, barely able to hold her eyes open and then, before either knows it, her head is on his shoulder and she's asleep.

George doesn't mind, not at all. He puts a hand on her swollen stomach and waits.

Sometimes he tells the baby stories. About his days at the academy, the first time he took a starship out of spacedock. The second time he disobeyed an order. Not about the first time, his face still heats up from that fiasco.

He tells the baby that no matter what George will be proud of him, because this baby...he knows is going to grow up to be special.

The baby kicks sharply and George chuckles. "Can't stand the praise? What kinda Kirk are you?" he teases.

He slips out from under Winona and lifts her gently. She stirs for just a moment but he shushes her back to sleep. Laying her down on their bed he bends and places a soft kiss first on her lips then on her stomach.

"When you get here, everything is going to change. It's going to be a great adventure." Another kick, "yeah, I get it. You're going to be a handful."

George wasn't getting any sleep tonight, and it was closer to 'morning' anyways. "First Officer, Lt. Cmdr. George Kirk, personal log, stardate twenty-two thirty-three point two. Today is going to be another great day." Someone was going to complain about his overly happy personal logs, but what could he say. He had a lot to be happy about.

[kijikun.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Castiel, learning to fly

I don't think this is exactly what you meant, but...

[yellowhorde.livejournal.com]

Castiel didn’t know why he had bought the kite; he only knew that from the moment he had laid eyes on it, he had wanted it. Dean would have called it an impulse buy, but he knew better. This wasn’t some simple whim. It was a calling. One he couldn’t ignore any longer.

Now, he walked slowly down the beach, the newly assembled kite in hand. The breeze was damp, cool, but not uncomfortably so. It caressed his cheeks, played invisible fingers through his hair. The sky, the color of tarnished silver, stretched unbroken before him, empty save for a few seagulls that swooped and screeched.

A powerful yearning swept through him as he watched the birds in flight. His throat constricted and the back of his eyes prickled. Pressing his lips into a thin line, he closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath and waited for the feeling to pass.

It was second nature for him to test the direction and strength of the wind. Holding the kite in his left hand and the spool of thread in his right, he felt the wind catch the kite, lift it eagerly from his hands. Grasping the spool, he allowed the kite to catch an updraft and rise into the air.

Once, he’d flown in an airplane with Dean white knuckled beside him. He’d gazed out the glass and down upon the land stretched out small and insignificant below him. But it hadn’t been the same. There had been a time, not long ago, when he had soared through the heavens with the sun on his face and the wind playing through his wings.

But those days were gone.

As the kite ascended, it swayed back and forth, as if impatient, hampered by his restricting hold on it. Once he let out more string, its stability improved and it soared higher, growing smaller with distance. Fly, he thought, be free.

Castiel craned his head back to watch its flight, smiling even as the tears blurred his vision then spilled unnoticed down his cheeks.

The sun on his face, the wind steady beneath his wings.

The wind gusted suddenly, catching the kite and yanking it higher. He gasped as the string cut a red line of pain along his palm. He stared at the slowly seeping blood, clenched his fist and released a shuddering breath as his thoughts returned to earth, heavy as a stone.

He dropped the kite line, where it buried itself in the sand, and began to pull the kite down, hand over hand. The kite fought him, desperate for freedom, but at last he is able to bring it down.

Tucking the kite carefully under his arm, he drew a rumpled white handkerchief from his coat pocket and wrapped it around his hand even though it didn’t hurt anymore. Red blossomed in a thin line along the length of the pristine cloth. He sighed heavily, knowing with absolute certainty that he’d never get the stain out.

His time to fly was over.

Feeling a little better, he tucked both the kite and his memories away as he walked slowly back to the car.

[oteap.livejournal.com]

Kings, Jack, tattoo

[daria234.livejournal.com]

Jack felt the constant presence of his name, his parentage. Felt it like a brand, or a impulsively purchased tattoo. He could fidget all he wanted, cloak it in finery, but some part of it would always be visible, always give him away.

Even if his face weren't so famous, even if he could disguise himself better, he would never be able to hide while Silas was looking for him. He would make some mistake, some outward sign that he was the child of privelege, and some helpful commoner would turn him in gladly for Silas' offered reward.

He read about this kind of thing in his history books, the ones that were banned officially, though Rose made sure a couple of copies were preserved in the treasury so her own children could learn history's harsher lessons -- without actually living through the lessons themselves, she had hoped. Jack was never studious, it was no surprise, but he remembered the tale of the Frenchman who was offered eggs for breakfast. He didn't know how many to ask for, so he said he wanted a dozen.

His past. His upbringing. Emblazoned on him for all to see, as if his family crest were tattooed on his forehead.

Jack liked to think that he wasn't that great a fool. But he really wasn't as sure as he would have liked. He wasn't sure at all that he could shed his name and flee his past.

He might have to live with it forever, his royal blood a permanent mark on his body, symbolizing something in a language he had long forgotten how to read.

[dergerm.livejournal.com]

BtVS, Xander, a long walk home

[kijikun.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Bobby, he loves them like sons

[kijikun.livejournal.com]

Good Omens, Crowley, he's not trying to make him fall

[oteap.livejournal.com]

Due South, RayK, easy

[beth-soprano.livejournal.com]

Star Trek TNG, Ro Laren, choices

[daria234.livejournal.com]

Ro Laren doesn't believe that people are just swept up in history. She doesn't believe that people are just bits in the machinery of fate, never seeing the true importance of any one person in the course of great events.

Ro Laren believes that everything is a choice. To commit an atrocity is a choice.

And to stand in silence as others commit their crimes: this is also a choice.

But to plan the best means of resistance, to walk that tightrope strung between what's ethical and what works... this is a more difficult choice.

To decide between loyalty to people and loyalty to an idea.... also a difficult choice.

But not as difficult as deciding how you're going to say good-bye, how you're going to tell someone that you really have no choice but to leave. When you both know that neither of you buy it.

Because Ro Laren never really truly believes she has no choice.

[vampedvixen.livejournal.com]

Dollhouse, Topher, questioning his loyalties

[vampedvixen.livejournal.com]

Buffy, Oz, the quiet silence of a snow filled moon lit night

[av-writes.livejournal.com]

With a sigh Oz pushed his way through the heavy school door and started to walk down the snowy path. He pulled his hat down firmly over his ears and stuffed his gloved hands deep into his pockets. It must have been a good few degrees below freezing but there was nowhere he'd rather be right now.

It was hard being part of a group that loved to talk so much. They had all joked about Oz being the quiet one, the stoic one, he wondered sometimes if they realised how hard it could be to be around them, filling his brain with chatter and too many busy thoughts. Sometimes he just needed some time away from the bustle, time to empty his mind and enjoy the nothingness.

Winter was his favourite season. There was nothing more soothing than the quiet silence of a snowy moonlit night. He could walk and enjoy the solitude, marvel at the snow creatures the neighbourhood kids had built throughout the day and prepare himself to cope with whatever madness the Hellmouth was getting ready to throw at them next.

[vampedvixen.livejournal.com]

Buffy, Faith, choosing to be alone

[daria234.livejournal.com]

White Collar, Mozzie, he can see where this is headed

[asimaiyat.livejournal.com]

Mozzie has learned not to need a lot of things in life.

Sure, there's a short list: black coffee. Books. A roast beef sandwich on rye every once in a while. The Sunday Times, which has a truly ludicrous pro-Establishment slant, but is a bad habit picked up a long time ago that he can't seem to shake, plus he likes to do the crossword. An empty park bench to read it on. Freedom to do what he feels like, when he feels like it.

That's not so much to ask. That's reasonable.

Neal, on the other hand. The poor kid. It's not just that he's, well, probably unhealthily attached to his creature comforts. It's a little pathetic, but it's his thing, and he can manage it. He's good at getting a hold of the things he wants, when they're, well, things.

What's really dangerous is, he needs people's approval all the time. He needs people to like him, or really, it's obvious enough, love him. Not that Moz can't sympathize -- it's a nice enough thing to have some company, someone to want you around -- but it isn't an essential and it never should be. You can't go around needing people, not in this line of work. Moz didn't. Kate didn't, and that was a delicate enough thing to avoid pointing out all the time even without the kid's newest sources of inevitable future heartbreak.

Oh, sure, it was cute while it lasted. Like watching a middle-school kid with a crush. But who was going to have to be there when everything fell apart? Who was going to have to bite his tongue not to say I told you so? Sometimes it's just not worth it to be right. Better to just hope that maybe this time, finally, the lesson would actually sink in. Which, okay, was kind of a depressing thought. But depressing, you can work with. If I start holding out hope, I'll be just as bad off as he is.

[daria234.livejournal.com]

Firefly, any, maybe I don't want to fix what's broken

Firefly, River [& Simon], Stronger

[trillianastra.livejournal.com]

River storms out of the infirmary, ignoring her brother’s cries that he’s trying to help her. He’s used to that. What makes this occasion stand out is the fact that River doesn’t run out, screaming something incoherent, retreating for some hidden corner of the ship where she will be found curled up, hands clasped over her ears.

No, this time she simply, calmly, slides down from where she has been perched on the counter, shakes her head, and walks out without saying a word. Simon, confused, stares after her for a moment. He puts away the bottles and instruments, then goes looking for his little sister’s latest hiding place.

He finds her easily, in the dining room, where she is lying stretched out on the old sofa, reading a book. Simon frowns. “River, what are you doing?”

“Reading,” she says, “…can’t you see that?”

“We were meant to be working on your medication plan… so that you can get better, remember?”

“I remember, Simon, I’m not a child.” Before Simon can say anything else, she closes her book and sits up. “You’re obsessed.”

“I… River…”

River rolls her eyes. “You helped me. You got me out of that place. But you don’t see what’s in front of you. It’s like you’re still trying to rescue me.”

“I… they… hurt you…”

“I know. And still you don’t see.”

Simon swallows. “What don’t I see? I don’t understand…”

She smiles. “She’s gone, Simon. The girl who went to that place. She’s gone. Some of it was them, taking things away, prying where they didn’t belong. Part of it was growing up. They hurt me, but I’m still here. They tried to break me, and they couldn’t. It was horrible, and sometimes I wish it hadn’t happened, but it did. It made me stronger. You always talk about how I’m broken, how I need help… but I’m not. I’m not broken anymore, I’m different.”

Simon opens his mouth to say something, but the words evaporate on his tongue. River understands, the way she understands so much now. She stands up, goes to him, and whispers in his ear.

“Don’t worry about the little sister you had. Enjoy the sister you have now.”

[daria234.livejournal.com]

Kings, Jack or Rose, a decision is an end of possibilities

[daria234.livejournal.com]

T:TSCC, Derek or John, things that shouldn't frighten me