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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]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

kijikun.livejournal.com

Supernatural, Castiel, learning to fly

From:

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.