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

[amor-remanet.livejournal.com]

Criminal Minds, Reid, the walls he hides behind

[wingstar102.livejournal.com]

Filled: Criminal Minds, Reid, the walls he hides behind

Spencer is acutely aware of his walls. He considers himself lucky because most people don't. Like Morgan with his tattoos and hard looks, Hotch's sunglasses... Even Emily's silences. They are oblivious to their own walls.

No one as any illusions or doubts to what Spencer uses as a defense. His words are plain as day, bubbling up like magical shield of legends. He is untouchable behind them.

That's the problem.

It never fails. Every time someone reaches for him in any fashion, he shies away, like a skittish horse, throwing his words in front of himself, praying they hold off the world for a little longer...

Wishing he were born a mute the entire time.

[amor-remanet.livejournal.com]

Glee, Will or Terri Schuester, sleeping alone

[alcetis.livejournal.com]

She used to have this nightmare.

She'd roll over and he'd be gone, and she'd be lying in an empty bed.

Sobbing, she'd awake, and he'd put her arms around her, patting her back, promising that he'd never leave. It was just a dream. It would be okay. He loved her.

Nothing could cure the barrenness that would sit heavy in her stomach, though, no kisses and no reassurances would purge of that fear.

But before she always woke up.

Now she doesn't. The bed is truly empty, and no matter how many times she shuts her eyes and wishes, no matter how many times she pinches herself with masochistic hope, and no matter how many times she wakes up sobbing, she still finds herself truly alone.

When she's alone she's nothing, there's no substance to her, she doesn't feel like a person any more. The fear grips her and holds her, and she would do anything to get rid of it forever.

She lives the nightmare now. And it's more terrifying than she ever imagined.

[amor-remanet.livejournal.com]

Futurama, Zoidberg, sometimes he wonders if his friends really are his friends

Seeing Through

[rise-your-dead.livejournal.com]

On a day like this, he’s pretty sure they don’t like him very much. But he knows. It’s his desperate loneliness that keeps him tethered to the dangers of Planet Express, and the capricious attitude of the Professor. And so he knows Fry thinks he’s a loser, and Leela thinks he’s a creep; to Bender he’s an easy mark, to Amy the non-cute crustacean, and to Hermes a mortal enemy. Yet he continues to call them friends, with great pride and great affection.

He knows. It’s the only power he has.

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Gabriel, how he was supposed to be

Supernatural | Gabriel | Signal's Fading

[kawaiispinel.livejournal.com]

Michael might be the tower, Lucifer might be the beacon, but Gabriel's the signal, everchanging as the messages change, going where they lead, sending their Father's words to the humans He holds so close to his heart. More times than he can count, he finds the means to get his words across, but never once does he feel that these insects are truly worthy of the love and devotion that his Father puts on them or the messages that He sends out to them.

Still, he obeys. He delivers unto Mary a son, aids Daniel in deciphering the Revelations, tells Zacharias of his son who would be known as John the Baptist, and every inch of God's will is his to be done. He doesn't have Michael's fierce loyalty, devoid of any doubts, nor does he have Lucifer's growing uncertainty and desire for disobedience. He simply is. Questioning, but loyal. Uncertain, but obedient. No side and every side.

Years later, he has another form, a form that has its own brand of messages to send to humanity in the form of tricks and punishments, rather than the word of God that perhaps they never deserved anyway.

The Messenger lives on, but the signal has faded.

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Dean, heterosexual freakout

X-D

[ltec.livejournal.com]

He's not gay but his eyes keep glueing themselves to Cas' ass, Cas' hands, Cas' lip especially when he licks them and Cas' neck and it's beginning to get problematic.

He's into curves but when he dreams, he dreams about Cas' firm chest pressing against his, their cocks grinding against one another's. It's the first time in a long time he's had wet dreams and he thinks maybe Sam has began to notice.

He turns the shower dial to cold and tells himself he deserves this for perving on an angel of the Lord.

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

Heroes, Matt, all alone in his head again

[ozmissage.livejournal.com]

Lost, Miles, just another job

[ozmissage.livejournal.com]

Lost, Sayid, damage control

[ozmissage.livejournal.com]

Being Human, George, movie night

[samueljames]

Obviously this is Mitchell's idea of a joke. He'd asked him to rent Star Trek but opening the box had revealed Michael J Fox's face, Teen Wolf. If looks could have killed, Mitchell would be no more. "Thought some research might help" he said shrugging.

"Yeah, cos this is so realistic. This condition is no joke Mitchell, I'm not trying to be good at basketball or impress some pretty girl. What I deal with, struggle with every month is primal and vicious."

Mitchell has the good grace to look a little embarrassed. "I didn't mean to upset you George, since Herr..... well since the hospital you've been more accepting of you and the wolf being one. I only meant it as a joke. It'd be like me watching Dracula or God forbid Twilight. I did get Star Trek too" he says taking it out of his inside pocket.

George takes the peace offering and soon they're immersed in the film. He mumbles an apology during one of the quiet moments and Mitchell flashes him that grin. He knows there was no malice but still he's not quite ready to make light of his condition just yet.

[colls]

SGA, Sheppard, wasting time

[colls]

Firefly, Simon, weighing the future

[colls]

Sanctuary, Henry, free-time

[slippery-fish.livejournal.com]

SPN, Jo, afterlife

[alcetis.livejournal.com]

Merlin, Merlin, the price of magic.

[mariana-oconnor.livejournal.com]

He had thought that it was so simple when he was young. Magic came naturally to him and it didn’t have a downside... except for the possibility of having your head cut off. Which, granted, was a large drawback but it was not a result of the magic, it was a result of Uther’s hatred of it.

Now, looking back on it all, he knows that isn’t true. It isn’t free. It isn’t simple and easy.

With magic, you see the world in a different way; you see destiny, the future, the past and the way things wove into each other to make up everything. It is beautiful and awe inspiring and, in the end, it will kill you.

He is no seer, but there are certain instincts he has, certain insights. He had stood by Arthur’s side and looked down at Gwen and he had seen pain there where at that point in time there had only been love. He had tried to warn him, tried to put into words things that he could not put into words. It was impossible to explain to the King. He could not make him see, the gap of magic stands between them.

Arthur says, sometimes, that the only downside to being King is that he is King. Merlin agrees, in a way: the only price of magic is that you have magic. It becomes your life and it doesn’t leave you able to have anything else. There is no time for lovers or hope, no chance to escape. It invades every part of his soul and, even as he knows he could not survive without it – would not want to survive without it – part of him is always wondering if things would be easier if he were normal.

He already knows the answer – they would. His life would have been simple and calm with no wars or council meetings, no Arthur risking his royal neck, no Gwen and her secrets, no Lancelot and his troubled conscience. There would be no Morgana who stared at him across the battlefield so full of betrayal, never giving him a chance to explain.

But, then again, there would be no Camelot either.

He cannot afford to be selfish, even as he longs for one moment for himself. He cannot afford to think what do I want. His life is the magic and he can see the big picture. He is here for Arthur and Camelot and the legend that will come.

He thinks that maybe there should be more, maybe he shouldn’t feel like he is just a vessel for the power he carries. He should feel like Merlin, but instead... instead he is Emrys and all other identities fled a long time ago.

He has magic and that is enough.

It has to be.

[lady-sarai.livejournal.com]

Harry Potter, Helga Hufflepuff, hard-working and loyal does not mean pushover

[ziplocless.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Eliot, (no) looking back

[ziplocless.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Eliot, the comfort of cooking

[scout-lover.livejournal.com]

He knows it’s not at all the kind of thing that would normally be associated with someone like him. After all, he’s the tough guy who bashes people’s heads in for a living–

Well, that’s not all he does, and he really only does it as a last resort, but it seems to be what most people focus on. Eliot Spencer the hitter, as opposed to Eliot Spencer the negotiator, or Eliot Spencer the retrieval specialist.

So, yeah, Eliot Spencer the cook – no, the chef – always comes as a complete surprise. Because, apparently, guys like him aren’t supposed to need an escape, a refuge, from the violence that dominates their lives. And maybe some don’t, but he does. He always has. And he found it in cooking.

The kitchen is his sanctuary.

He can lose himself here, let his mind drift as his hands fall into the familiar rhythm of chopping, mix spices according to his mood, savor old memories unlocked by a certain scent or taste, or let himself sink into the warmth and camaraderie of his new-found “family” as he whips up a meal to celebrate another victory or soften another blow.

Like when Sophie had left. It had been three days of comfort food, from banana pancakes for Hardison to – God help him – canned Spaghetti-Os and warm apple sauce with raisins in it for Parker and pot roast and potatoes for Nate. He’d spent those days as little more than a short-order cook, fixing whatever they’d asked for, even letting them tell him how Nana or Maggie used to make it, offering them solace the only way he really knew how.

And maybe finding a little himself.

Because that was how he’d first learned, in his mama’s kitchen, watching her put together meals to nourish her family or console a friend after a death, to restore health during an illness or simply to help ease the burden in a time of hardship. His mama had taught him that food, real food, was meant as much to lift the soul as to fill the body, and that food prepared and offered with love had near magical properties.

And, yeah, he’d spent three days after her death cooking up everything she’d ever taught him for his sister and nephew. And had poured his love into it through his tears.

Over the years, he’s picked up tips and recipes in kitchens and markets across the world, has learned from villagers in Vietnam and chefs in Paris. And more than once he’s discovered that a good meal isn’t just the key to a man’s heart. Or bed. Hell, women need to eat – and other things – too. And a man who knows his way around the kitchen can usually count on getting to know the bedroom as well.

Mama hadn’t taught him that, but it hadn’t taken him long to learn.

But, while he’s not above using cooking to get what he wants from either client or mark, he doesn’t really like to do it. It’s one of the few honest things in his life, one of the few things untouched by violence and that doesn’t require him to lie or steal, one of the few things he’s retained from his life before he started down the darker roads. It’s one of the few things he has left of himself.

And maybe that’s why he offers it so freely to his team, his family. It’s the only way he really knows to show them what they mean to him, what they’ve become to him, what he feels for them. There’s something of himself in every dish he prepares, and something he puts in only for them.

Yeah, he can prepare food for 200 as he had for the Mosconi job, no problem. And, despite what that bitch Heather Mosconi had said, it would not be food court shit. But he only cooks for people he loves.

And the way he feels about this messed up bunch? Hell, if Mama was right, his food oughtta be magic enough to make them fly.

[ziplocless.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Eliot, underestimated

[lady-sarai.livejournal.com]

DCU, Cissie King-Jones, she's not Arrowette, but that doesn't mean she's useless

[lady-sarai.livejournal.com]

DCU, Tam Fox, sleepless nights

[ziplocless.livejournal.com]

RPS, Christian Kane, taking time to recharge

Oklahoma State of Mind, 1/2

[scout-lover.livejournal.com]

(Um, went a hair sideways and ran a bit long. Oops …)

He needs Oklahoma.

As much as he loves Nashville – the people and the food and the actual music, not the business – and has fallen in love with Portland, as much as he enjoyed shooting the movie in Pennsylvania and working with Riley in Dallas, and as much as he … endures … LA, he needs – with an actual, physical force – Oklahoma.

Oklahoma is home in a way nowhere else can be. Yeah, he was born in Texas and loves it there, loves the family he has there, and Jensen’s family, and is always ready to go back for a visit. But that’s just it. When he goes to Texas, he’s just visiting.

When he’s in Oklahoma, he’s home. Doesn’t matter if it’s Norman or Tulsa, whether he’s planning the house he’ll build on his land or just taking up space in his parents’ living room, he’s home. And he doesn’t have to do or say or be a fuc– freakin’ thing to “earn” his right to be here.

Except maybe keep the f-bombs out of his mama’s house, because he’s pretty damned sure she still wields a mean bar of soap. He knows for certain her wooden spoon hasn’t lost any force.

But he doesn’t have to figure out who he is here, doesn’t have to decide whether he’s “Chris” or “Christian” or “Christian Fucking Kane,” whether he’s actor or singer, good ol’ boy, hard-ass or charmer. Because, hell, half the time his charm doesn’t work with his family anyway, being a good ol’ boy is a real good way to get his knuckles or his butt cracked with that spoon, and his daddy is still the toughest, truest hard-ass he’s ever known, and the one man in all the world whose approval still means everything.

Nope, “Christian Fucking Kane” doesn’t exist here. And neither, really, does “Chris” or “Christian.” Because the minute he walks through the front door, he’s “honey” to Mama and “son” to Daddy. And “brat” when Jenny’s around. Unless he’s in trouble. Then he’s “Christian Michael” or, worse, “Christian Michael Kane!” in tones that reduce “Christian Fucking Kane” to a gulping, wide-eyed teenager shaking in his boots and trying to remember what the fuck – hell – he’s done wrong.

The worst, though, the absolute, soul-killing worst is when Mama or Daddy looks at him and sighs, “Oh, Christian,” in a voice so heavy with disappointment it makes him want to curl up and die on the spot. Like when he’d been home last time and, while doing his laundry, Mama had fished a handful of women’s phone numbers, two joints and a condom out of the jeans pocket he’d shoved them into after a recent show.

When she’d shown him the “loot,” he’d felt sixteen again, awkward and embarrassed, stammering out apologies and defensive explanations and expecting at any moment to be grounded. Or, worse, to hear the dreaded, “Your daddy will not be happy.” Instead, she’d merely sighed again, shaken her head and handed him the contraband without another word.

He’d flushed the joints down the toilet himself, and then gone through every pocket of every shirt and pair of jeans still waiting to be washed. And would do it from now on. Because that look in Mama’s eyes? That still hurts him as nothing else can. And, yeah, maybe that makes him the mama’s boy Steve’s always teasing him about being, but, hey, he’s seen Carlson around his mom and it’s pots and kettles, so Cali-boy can just shut up.

(cont'd below)

[tigriswolf]

Supernatural, Dean, I sleep but don’t rest (Miranda Lambert)

[tigriswolf]

Supernatural, author’s choice, “to know that even one life has breathed easier because you have lived, that is to have succeeded” (Emerson)

[alieneyes.livejournal.com]

Enjoy!

---

When Bobby’s alone he gets to thinking, well really, the man is always thinking, but alone it turns more inward than outward. These thoughts stray dangerously toward what could be considered depressing thoughts.

Robert Singer is not a depressed man. By God no.

But he is a man, which by the very definition, makes him human. So it’s easy for him to have moments of weakness and doubt.

There’s been plenty of that lately.

He thinks about his place in the world, which is undeniably existential, but it cannot be helped with the Gates of the Apocalypse blasted wide open.

Sometimes he worries about what it is that he does and if it means anything, but then he thinks about those damn Winchesters and he knows he has a place in their world and that is enough.

[tigriswolf]

Supernatural, author’s choice, “Clouds came floating into my life, no longer to carry ran or usher storms, but to add color to my sunset sky” (Rabindranath Tagore)

[karahalliwell.livejournal.com]

The Vampire Diaries, Bonnie, The pursuit of strength, reached.