Friday: Free For All
Feb. 26th, 2010 02:17 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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comment_ficHappy weekend everyone, and welcome to our regular Friday Free for All! Today any fandoms, characters, and prompts are welcome!
Just please remember to follow the rules:
No more than 5 prompts in a row, and no more than 3 prompts per fandom. If someone answers a prompt, you can prompt again.
No spoilers in your prompts for at least 1 week after original air/publication date. If there's spoilers in your story, please warn in bold and leave at least 3 spaces.
For the sake of your monkeys, please format your prompts correctly. For example:
Not feeling inspired by today's prompts? Check out our lonely prompts. And don't forget! This weekend is another Lonely Prompt Challenge, so stay tuned!
theme=FreeForAll
Just please remember to follow the rules:
No more than 5 prompts in a row, and no more than 3 prompts per fandom. If someone answers a prompt, you can prompt again.
No spoilers in your prompts for at least 1 week after original air/publication date. If there's spoilers in your story, please warn in bold and leave at least 3 spaces.
For the sake of your monkeys, please format your prompts correctly. For example:
Burn Notice, Sam, oh the stories I could tell
Psych/White Collar, Shawn/Neal, "You're not a psychic." "You're not FBI." "That's not hard, the tie gives it away." "That and the blinky thing on your ankle."
Not feeling inspired by today's prompts? Check out our lonely prompts. And don't forget! This weekend is another Lonely Prompt Challenge, so stay tuned!
theme=FreeForAll
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-02-26 08:17 am (UTC)I'm sorry, my brain just went there
Date: 2010-02-26 05:28 pm (UTC)Yeah, Mikey can focus. Hey, get me another mojito, would ya?
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Date: 2010-02-26 08:18 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2010-02-26 08:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-26 08:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-27 01:04 am (UTC)____________________________________________________
Their first waltz happens when she's still an angel and he's still a human. It's not really a waltz in the classical sense but even in the desert, set to primitive music before time was counted their dance carries all of the forbidden, erotic pleasure that the frist 'proper' waltz carried. Two people touching too close, bending all the rules of their two races for a short interlude of intimacy.
Their last waltz is not a 'proper' waltz either, more figurative than literal. It happens after she has become an angel again and he's a demon, hell-bent on keeping Earth as it is. It's fitting somehow: a renegade angel and an equally renegade demon moving togther in the oldest and most intimate dance of the world on the night before the world will end one way or another or keep going.
They've broken more rules than each of them can count so how much worse could it be to commit this last, carnal sin?
no subject
Date: 2010-02-26 08:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-26 08:22 am (UTC)Part 1
Date: 2010-02-26 01:40 pm (UTC)"Why does he need to learn how to bake muffins? Dude, I don't know how to bake muffins!" he says when Sam suggests some domestic skills, and "Why does he need to learn to drive? He's got us." when Sam says maybe Cas should learn how to get around by himself. It isn't until they go up against a particularly mean chupacabra and Castiel gets his ex-angelic ass handed to him that Dean agrees that, yeah, he could maybe use some combat training.
That's how they end up here, with the motel furniture pushed safely to the sides of the room, and Dean and Cas barefoot and shirtless, circling each other like wolves. Sam, sitting on the bed and trying to remember how his father had explained this to him, talks them through it.
"Okay, now, Cas? Dean's gonna throw you. Just let it happen," he says, and Dean (who isn't even trying: it's like he's fourteen again, except substituting 'angel' for 'baby brother') lurches forward. He easily wrestles Cas down, straddles his torso and pins his arms to the floor. "You alright?"
"Fine," Cas replies, but his voice sounds a little...strained, and Sam frowns. It can't be easy for him, being powerless like this, and Dean grinning down at him like that (smug jerk) can't help.
"You want to go again?" Sam asks, with his best 'I-understand-this-is-hard-for-you' voice.
Dean is not nearly such a patient teacher. "Yeah. Lets see if you can get on top of me this time," he teases, bending down over Cas and getting up in his face in a macho challenge.
Sam rolls his eyes, but obviously Cas is eager to get his own back, because he nods with the most enthusiasm Sam's seen since they took him to In-N-Out Burger that first time.
*
Sam thought the training went pretty well, but when he suggests they try it again, Dean and Cas share a look.
"Nah," Dean says, and his voice is just a touch too casual. "We already did some training this morning. While you were at the library."
"Oh. Ok." Sam looks between the pair of them and remembers that, yeah, they had looked kind of rumpled when he'd got back. "Just, tell me next time. I can spot you."
Dean sniggers into his magazine, and Cas bites his lip and ducks his head back into the dusty old tome he's been translating. There's something going on, Sam thinks. Maybe Cas was really terrible, this time around, and he's embarrassed?
*
"Combat practice," Dean says shortly, and they're out the door before Sam can so much as blink, let alone reply.
"Why can't you do it here?" Sam asks, but the motel door doesn't reply.
*
"He still needs a lot more training."
"Yes. I'm very bad at fighting."
"You're going to have to show me sometime."
*
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Date: 2010-02-26 08:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-26 04:09 am (UTC)According to Castiel, it had something to do with Gabriel’s grace interacting oddly with the remnants of demon blood that still remained in Sam, along with the precipitous powers Gabriel had picked up as a Trickster. According to Gabriel himself, it was either another Trickster or a fertility goddess with an odd sense of humor. No one was sure how the raspberries tied in with any of this, but that was the one thing both Cas and Gabriel were in agreement about; the raspberries were involved.
To be perfectly honest, Sam wasn’t too concerned with the how, so much as the what.
Which just so happened to be a knocked-up archangel.
Also, the reason the hunter had locked himself into the Impala and was currently listening to a playlist of his ‘happy songs’ while he tried to come to terms that he was going to be the father of an archangel’s baby.
A male archangel’s baby.
Sam cranked up the volume.
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Date: 2010-02-26 08:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-26 08:24 am (UTC)fansminions who love you make sneaking off easierNo fic, but...
Date: 2010-02-26 08:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-26 08:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-26 08:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-09 07:55 pm (UTC)So many angels have been killed, and there are few around that he still recognizes. Most are new fledglings, grace just developed and brand new, and they float around heaven looking for new light and experiences. Gabriel leaves them be. He doesn’t really feel like being chatty these days, much less being a mentor.
But when he looks up one day to see Castiel perched next to him, wings bright and stretched up toward infinity, and he finds he’s not all that annoyed at being visited.
“Hey, brother,” he says, reaching out a wing to give Castiel an affectionate slap across the side. Castiel wobbles a bit, wings fluttering, before regaining his balance.
“Hello, brother,” Castiel answers, and he doesn’t sound happy. Sounds off, upset, down-right miserable.
“What’s on your mind?” he asks.
“I’m not at peace,” Cas says, all but sighs. “The end of this war. The destruction. Death.”
“Yes, because you were completely and solely responsible for how the apocalypse played out,” Gabriel says, wings arching and ruffling in exasperation. “Don’t give yourself so much credit…”
“It’s not that,” Castiel says. “At least not entirely. It’s just that I failed. I failed my duty, and my charges, and my goals. And it all could have been different.”
“Could have, should have, shmood have,” Gabriel says, looking back out over the horizon, at all the streaks of light and grace surrounding them. It’s silent for a while, Castiel apparently having run out of mourning, and so Gabriel says, “Don’t worry, kiddo. Rome fell, too.”
If Castiel had eyes, Gabriel was sure he’d be rolling them. “That’s hardly the same thing,” he points out. “Rome was only one city.”
“It felt the same when you were standing in the streets,” Gabriel answers quietly.
Castiel doesn’t say anything.
“Go visit Dean,” Gabriel finally says. “It will make you feel better.”
Castiel nods, and before Gabriel can open his mouth again, the angel is gone. Gabriel spreads his wings out into the empty space, contemplates life, and finally decides he might go visit the other plane as well.
He hasn’t spoken to Sam in a while, either. And it always eases his soul.
no subject
Date: 2010-02-26 08:31 am (UTC)Sticks and stones may break my bones
but whips and chains excite me
So throw me down and tie me up
And show me that you like me
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Date: 2010-02-26 08:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-26 10:16 am (UTC)"Dean?" He asks, keeping his voice low in the stillness of the scrapyard.
"Go watch over Sam." There, from beside a rusted car. Dean's voice is toneless with pain.
"Your brother is fine. It's you that concerns me." Castiel moves towards him.
"Yeah, well I'm just peachy. Go away." Dean sits with his legs pulled up to his chest, his back against the car, and his eyes are as empty and broken as the metal skeletons which litter their surrounds. The apocalypse will cause the death of billions, but it is this, this feeling of loss and hopelessness, that Castiel is genuinely fighting to prevent. And failing.
"Dean..." Castiel stops, cuts himself off in frustration. In Heaven he would take Dean's hand, their voices and bodies would join together in exaltation and they would know each others souls truly. Here on Earth, things are more difficult. Castiel is restrained by flesh, burdened by a language whose fluency escapes him. How to offer comfort, when words lie thick on your borrowed tongue and nothing you say is ever quite correct? Castiel speaks English, but the dialect of Dean Winchester is a far more complicated thing, indirect and filled with human metaphor. Too many times he has felt at a loss, as if Dean is teasing him through through this mocking, devious code.
But he is learning the riddle. And it takes only a moment, another look into the cold flint of Dean's eyes, before Castiel realizes what it is he should say. He moves stiffly, bending down to place a hand on Dean's shoulder and asks, in quiet tones: "Do you know why angels have names that end in El?"
Dean was hardly relaxed, and yet he stiffens further under the touch. "Something to do with God." His voice, too, is thick with words he cannot put together fluently. Men and angels were never intended to communicate like this. "Not now, Cas. I don't care."
"It's because if they started with El," Castiel tells him, keeping his voice low and serious. "We wouldn't be angels. We'd be Mexicans."
It takes a moment. But then, there it is, a flash in Dean's eyes, a spark which will one day again be a flame more mesmerizing than all the light of Heaven. "That's terrible, Cas," Dean says. The tense muscles in his shoulder and neck loosen, and his head lolls back, half resting against the cool metal of the car, half against Castiel's arm. "Just...bad. We gotta get you some Mitch Hedberg."
Castiel doesn't know what that is. But there is more to communication than words, and so he simply nods, and keeps his hand on Dean's shoulder when he sits down beside him till morning.
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Date: 2010-02-26 08:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-26 08:34 am (UTC)Hurry up and wait
Date: 2010-02-27 04:06 am (UTC)There's a knock on the door frame, and Jack's already cycling through his short-list of dismissals before he looks up. He ends up greeting Sam with, "What in the hell...brings you to the mountain?" and something like a smile instead of the considerably saltier option he was winding up for.
She just grins, of course. That's his girl. Even if he had acidentally cussed her out, he'd probably still have gotten that grin out of her.
"Consultation, or so they claimed." She shrugs one shoulder, and something jingles at her side. "Someone's lonely, I think."
"Lazy's more like it," Jack grumbles in response. He rubs at his forehead before looking over at the clock. "You'd think, with that many people on that ship, one of 'em would have someone burning the candle at both ends to get them back." He leans back, stretching out one of the hundreds of knots that's made a home in his back since he's been stuck around the SGC. "I miss when Daniel would disappear and I could count on you to work til he was home safe. Or!" he adds with a snap of his fingers, "when I was the one getting lost, and I could just sit on my happy ass and wait to be rescued."
He can't hear the laugh that Sam must be stifling, but it's clear from the twitch that crinkles her laugh lines. It's a lot easier to pretend to be a lazy, over-promoted idiot around the kids now than it ever was with her.
Sam switches to a pout. "So you're too busy for dinner then." She raises her left hand to display a ring full of keys, bouncing off a bottle opener and each other. "Way too busy for beer."
"Beer," Jack echoes with a disappointed sigh. "I miss beer."
"Cake?" Sam offers.
"Cake," Jack replies. Sam could figure out a much more complicated puzzle than his preferences, but she seems to like him simple.
Sam rounds the desk; he accepts her offered hand and uses it to pull her down to his lap instead of help himself up.
"Later?" she asks, leaning against his shoulder.
"Later," he answers, and holds on.
Re: Hurry up and wait
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Date: 2010-02-26 08:35 am (UTC)hot prompt!
Date: 2010-02-26 01:55 pm (UTC)Because Castiel's hand on his arm is amazing, like everything else Castiel does to him. Like Castiel's lips on his, like his breath against Dean's neck. Like the small growling sounds that echo in the cavern between throat and shoulder, those oh-so-subtle signs that a creature that is made of control and discipline is slowly but surely losing his mind just breathing Dean in and feeling him close.
But Castiel's hands on his hips are something utterly different.
Castiel grabs his hipbones and Dean feels the touch all through him, down to his toes and up to the crown of his head. Castiel's hands slide an inch forward and Dean's dick throbs, anxious for a touch that may or may not come. Backward an inch and he arches forward, hoping Castiel will grab his ass and squeeze, knead, turn him to jelly inside and out. His hipbones are the gateway to a thousand other sensations, each of them maddening, and that's the reason he can't breathe when Castiel grabs him there. That's the reason he jams his mouth against Castiel's, holding back a shout, trembling, gone.
He thinks that if Cas had put hands on his hips to draw him out of the pit, things might have been very, very different.
Not that he can really complain much about how things are going right now.
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Date: 2010-02-26 08:36 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2010-02-26 08:39 am (UTC)All I Want For Christmas is World Peace [1/2]
Date: 2010-02-26 11:08 am (UTC)Sitting in some shitty motel chair, reading over a book Bobby lent them- 'You get anything on this book, I'll kill ya, salt and burn your bones, then find a way to bring you idjits back and do it again, ya hear?'- when Cas decides he wants to kiss Dean.
Dean- having been encouraging such behavior since... well, since- makes a startled noise of pleasure before humming into the angels mouth.
Cas' hand is nestled right over the scar he left, and the possessive spark of ownership in that leaves Dean dizzy and half hard. He knots his hand in that ridiculous tie and pulls forward, the angel letting him do so with an encouraging sigh.
And, hey, lucky them, because the Sasquatch isn't due back from the library for another three hours, at least, and that should be, ya know, enough time to do what he's imagining doing to Castiel, Angel of the Lord.
Barely.
But as he's palming a thrusting angel's dick through pressed dress pants, there's the tell-tale 'snick' of a key in a lock and he barely has enough time to squeak 'shit!' before Castiel's gone and his- annoying, frustrating, unintentional cock-block- little brother is brushing into the motel room.
He's mollified by the fact that they hadn't gotten any further- oh thank god- and that Sam brought pie with his excited babbling.
The second time, Dean is fully aware of it.
He's just spent half of a strategy session making those eyes at Cas. Yeah, those eyes.
And Cas, glancing wide eyed, and a little- startled?- something else to Sam before back to Dean, knows exactly what he's saying through eyefuckage.
So when Sam stays after the angel poofs to wherever he poofs, Dean wanders out to get a soda.
He's in the partitioned little 'soda & snacks' surrounded by cinder blocks, trying to choose between Sierra Mist and Cream Soda when there's an angel at his back, mouthing at his neck, digging fingers into his stomach and trying to weld his hips to Dean's ass. Dean doesn't mind, really.
And when a hand clamps down on his mouth to stifle his heated groan, he grinds his hips back into a hard cock. He's pleased to hear Cas' stuttered inhalation.
Cas is doing that thing behind his left ear, so it's no surprise that he doesn't hear the very close motel door open and close.
He does hear the, "Daddy, I want Cream Soda!"
He also notices the quick departure of one angel, the fact that he is half hard and the fact that the stupid machine didn't take his quarter.
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Date: 2010-02-26 08:41 am (UTC)