Friday Free-For-All

[monica-catch22.livejournal.com]

Hey, guys!  It's Friday, which means we have no theme other than Free-For-All!  Keep it legal, but let your imaginations run free! 

Please just remember, for the sake of our codemonkeys and staff, to follow the rules:

Do not leave prompts with spoilers until at least 1 week after the original air/publication date. Responses with spoilers must warn in bold and leave at least 3 spaces.

Do not leave more than 5 prompts in a row, no more than 3 prompts per fandom. If someone answers a prompt you can prompt again.

For the sake of our hard working volunteer coders, please format your prompts correctly. For example:


Shelter, Shaun/Zack, tasting sunshine

Iron Man/Dark Knight, Tony/Bruce, The Millionaire Playboy's Club


Nothing tickling your fancy today?  Take a gander at our lonely prompts over here.


Remember, this is a contest weekend, so get ready to fill out more prompts tomorrow and Sunday for fabulous prizes! 

PROMPT! 

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Comments

[monica-catch22.livejournal.com]

Shelter, Shaun/Zack, tasting sunshine

Shelter, Shaun/Zack, tasting sunshine

[moon-destiny.livejournal.com]

(Btw, totally *in love* with your icon.)

~*~

They're in bed, Shaun still deeply asleep and wrapped around Zach. Zach doesn't know why he's awake, it's not even dawn yet.

He turns onto his side, carefully disentangling himself from Shaun and just watches him. It's dark but not too dark that he can't see the basic outline of Shaun's body on the bed.

He shouldn't want this - should be happy with what he has. He doesn't know why he deserves Shaun, why he deserves this happiness. He's no one special, that's for sure. It's thoughts like these that invade his mind these days. The prospect of being with Shaun is an all too overwhelming one. He could be so happy and that scares him like hell.

He places a kiss on Shaun's bare shoulder, tasting sunshine and warmth, something he's never had with Tori and something he doesn't think he can hold onto because he knows he doesn't deserve this.

He has heaven in this bed and he knows it won't last long enough.

[monica-catch22.livejournal.com]

Iron Man (movies), Tony/author's choice, first time after Afghanistan

Probably different from what you wanted but...

[canadiangoddess.livejournal.com]

**kind of if you squint A LOT a crossover with CSI...but really it’s all about Madam Heather and her innate awesomeness**

Tony has never had to pay for sex, and he hesitates to start now, but everyone says she’s the best at what she does, even if they all say it in whispers. She was a master at reading what a person really needed, truly desired underneath all the bullshit veneers of polite society, and giving it to them. When Tony came to her door she knew immediately that he was a man in need of two things, acceptance and forgetting, and she was going to be the one to give them to him. Carefully.

She selected her favourite boudoir, a luxurious room with dark colours and sinful fabrics sure to appeal to Tony’s hedonistic side, and offered him the finest scotch from her private collection. Black market of course. They never spoke, but Heather had not become Vegas’ most celebrated Madam by relying only on verbal cues, she knew when Tony was ready to move from stiff drinks to the main attraction and acted accordingly.

She guided the strangely pliant man to her bed, turning back the sheets and laying him back as she stripped his layers away. She was very careful to avoid staring at his arc reactor and the scars surrounding it, but every other mark was open for her examination. She traced faded wounds with gentle fingers, slapping Tony’s hands away whenever he would reach for her, before mapping his torment with her tongue.

While he was still reeling from her gentle ministrations she carefully bound his wrists to the headboard with special scarves hidden in the bedding. Tony jerked reflexively, but she settled him with soft sounds and careful petting. Slipping the blindfold over his head was more problematic, it was against his instincts to allow himself to be completely helpless, but she persevered.

She rode him this way, bound and blind, as sweetly and gently as she had served him all along. Soon though she recognized the signs of his other needs, and with a sigh for the expensive silk she cut his bindings. Immediately Tony flipped them over, pounding into Heather’s body like a jackhammer, shifting her legs to go deeper, harder. It didn’t last long, something that intense never could, and when Tony was finally spent he collapsed on her chest and gave in to the tears.

Hours later, after a shared sponge bath, Heather escorted a very tired but much lighter Tony to her door. Happy was waiting to take him back to the airport, but Tony stopped half-way down the stairs, turning to face Heather framed in the doorway.

“Thank You.”

[monica-catch22.livejournal.com]

Eureka, Nathan/Jack, "Ookay, not that button..."

[monica-catch22.livejournal.com]

Numb3rs, Colby/Charlie, there's a first time for everything except that...

[crimson-antics.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, any/any, Reading the scars on your body like the roads on a map.

Filled: Country Roads, Take Me Home

[kryptic-pear.livejournal.com]

Mary used to rub her thumb along the scar on his hand like a lucky charm. Back then, he didn't have many scars, but for some reason she liked them. She would trace out the history of Vietnam and his own childish recklessness on his body like she was reading braille. The one on his hand was from their first Christmas together, they had argued pretty much the entire month of December. She didn't want to celebrate for some reason. Just another one of those things she hated to talk about. Just another secret her family had given her to keep from him. But despite all the arguments he went and got a tree anyway. It was enormous, a pain in the ass to haul up the stairs to their crappy apartment and way too tall to fit standing up. When he realized he didn't have a saw to cut the base with John decided to use the bread knife. They spent Christmas in the hospital with his thumb getting sewn together again.

Even though he never really knew his mother, Sam had picked up the same obsession. John can still remember the first time Sam had grabbed his thumb, wide-eyed and serious and traced a warm little finger along the pale line on his hand. John doesn't remember crying, but he did. From then on Sam would search out all the scars he could find on his father, clambering over him as a toddler, pale and worried after his first day at kindergarten and counting to make sure nothing had happened while he was learning about colors and words. When he was old enough, Sam pretty much took over being the family doctor. He would sew up his father, and soon enough his brother, when they came back grinning and bleeding. John knew from the slope of his shoulders that Sam carried the number of those scars around, a silent record written on his heart to count out the days of their existence.

Ellen used to eyeball them, whenever he came into the roadhouse. She'd stare at those pale white lines hungry and aching for a different set of scars on a different man. They only slept together the once. It was a mistake from the start, with too much alcohol and too many stories between them. She avoided his scars then, hands gripping the sheets like she was going to fly away at any moment. They were the wrong map, the wrong story. John didn't go back to the roadhouse for another year.

Kate Millegan, well, she was scared of them. They scared Adam too. He took them both to the fair once, Kate gripped his hand on the rollercoaster even though it was small and she wasn't really scared. But when they got off he let go, because she didn't rub her thumb over the scar on his hand and it didn't feel much like holding hands without that. When they slept together she arched and cried out in soft tones, but when it was finished she curled up and watched him like he was something she wasn't allowed to touch, like he was in a museum or something. It was in those moments he sometimes thought that the scars were more like brands than stories, marking him theirs, the demons', just another part of the darkness out there in the world.

In Hell, they split open and bled, they burned like brands and disappeared. Sometimes he would find himself pale and newborn like a babe, but then it would start all over again, the illusion would fade and he was just John once more. A man who's history had led him here, tied him here for certain since before he was even born. When he got out, he followed those scars. He followed them past heartache and loneliness, past laughter and good music, even past time and heaven itself and when he found her she took him in her arms and traced those scars till she found his heart and welcomed him home.

[sycophantastic.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Dean/Castiel, taking an angel to the beach is a fascinating experience

[zekkass.livejournal.com]

Castiel does not use a swimsuit, nor a beach towel, nor does he care about getting sun-burned. Dean looks at his angel and thinks (affectionately) that he's crazy. At least the other beach-goers think so, what with Castiel standing next to Dean's towel in full suit-and-trenchcoat and why, he's not even sweating.

"At least try to fit in, Cas," Dean says after a moment, but really, he's not expecting results.

Castiel doesn't disappoint. His look garners a grin from Dean and nothing changes there.

They're getting stares, but that could be because of Castiel, or it could be because of Dean's obvious bandaging on his chest. (Monster of the week with a nasty set of talons, see.)

Dean adjusts his sunglasses and pokes Castiel's leg. "At least get us some ice cream."

It takes a moment to point Cas in the right direction and provide the cash, but soon they're sitting together on Dean's towel licking identical vanilla ice cream waffle cones.

All in all? Dean's having a great time at the beach.

[lizzie-marie-23.livejournal.com]

any, any, "and sometimes it's not worth trying/ Cause I'm tired of living but I'm scared of dying"

Filled! Fic. This got long, hope it's okay! SPN: Adam & Nick, We keep moving. 1/?

[nights-fang.livejournal.com]

It's Adam’s three week anniversary of being pulled out from Hell, Archangel Michael-free, and back to living a normal life. Sam had left in search of Dean the moment they were brought back to life. The bastard angel Zachariah was right; those guys were even erotically co-dependent on each other. (Bitter about being left behind? Who? Adam? He certainly isn’t.) Adam's celebrating his third lease on life by getting supplies for his road trip to bumfuck nowhere, and more booze to help him cope. He's just exited the local supermarket when Adam runs into him. Or rather, the guy trips over his own two feet and tumbles straight into Adam.

Adam may be archangel possession free, but he still has parts of Michael's grace inside him, unfortunately. So he can tell the guy who's landed on top of him is not normal. He reeks of fallen grace, the same grace Adam has the displeasure of knowing as Lucifer, sulphur, and demon blood. The guy also reeks of booze, trash, blood, vomit, and... Well he just smells.

He tells himself that it's his mother's training of helping someone who obviously needs it, and not Michael's left over grace in him reaching out to care for anything that holds something of his beloved brother, that makes Adam drag the guy back to the motel room he’s currently crashing at. It’s not Michael’s leftover grace itching to care for his brother that makes Adam deposit the guy on the bed. He keeps up the mental chant as he wipes the grime on the guy’s (he vaguely remembers reading Michael’s thoughts about the guy’s name being Rick or something similar) body. He disinfects the wounds the way his mother had shown him, before leaving the guy to rest and going to the nearby chemist to get more medical supplies for the guy’s wounds.

He keeps up the chant with utter ferocity when the guy wakes up and promptly throws up on the carpet, creating more work for Adam, and adding to his tab.


The guy’s name is Nick, not Rick, and it’s official, he’s had the shittiest year ever. He tells Adam about it in between wincing and sipping cold water, half expecting Adam to pass it off as delusions of a drunk, and throw him out in the morning. Adam doesn’t, because he knows.

Nick stays, much to his own surprise, and to his relief. Adam likes company. He figures Nick could probably use some company too. It’s not as if they have anyone else in the world looking out for them, anyway. Might as well look out for each other.

It’s their decision, not Michael’s or Lucifer’s.


It’s barely a few days in, or weeks Adam’s lost count. Between trying to live in general, everything else has become a blur. Nick’s still getting used to having control of his body. Lucifer rode him for nearly a year, and he really did some damage. The left-over grace is a boon in a way because it gives Nick super healing abilities, but it makes Nick taking control of his body a harder feat. Some days he can walk without help, others he can barely move his fingers, and Adam has to help him with everything, so that Nick doesn’t have to use Lucifer’s left over grace to help himself function.

He’s still adamant on moving around, and makes a good deal of effort. This would be well and good, if he didn’t have the problem about controlling his body movements yet, but he does. Adam isn’t usually one to bring someone down. He’s not stupid as to be blind as to realise why Nick does this. And while Adam appreciates it, fucking admires it, he could also really, really do with Nick not losing his balance in the middle of something and just folding in on himself suddenly. The guy’s heavy, and Adam himself is sort of a lightweight, so it becomes a major feat to drag Nick to the nearest bed or couch and settle him in there.

Adam still lets him try anyway, because Nick needs it. Adam needs it too.

[crimson-antics.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Dean/Castiel, You’re the closest to Heaven that I’ll ever be.

[smaragdbird.livejournal.com]

Before an angel pulled him out of hell Dean hadn’t believed in God. He had never gone down to his knees and worshipped something or someone. Castiel had turned his world upside down when he had acted as if Dean had been worth saving but Dean still blamed that on Cas’ lack of experience with people in general.
He still didn’t believe that he had been worth it and Alastair had made it clear that sooner or later he would go back to hell. Maybe that had driven him closer to Castiel, closer to the one who had saved him once before.
“Do you believe?” Castiel asked him, his fingers tracing a slow pattern on Dean’s stomach, watching his skin move as he breathed. Dean snorted. “Is there a point?”
“Yes.” Castiel answered with absolute conviction.
“You never even met him. Why do you rely on something you can’t see?” Dean asked as he trailed his mouth over Cas’s neck. Castiel arched against him, his mouth open with a silent moan.
“Everyone believes in something.” Castiel murmured, his tongue distracting Dean, his slick fingers teasing Dean, bringing him close to the edge, and then retreating, again and again.
“I don’t,” Dean answered, biting his hand to stifle his moans, rocking his hips, helplessly aroused, his skin burning with anticipation.
As Castiel slid into him, Dean feels a flicker of awareness, of what believing was to him. He held still, his body obeying Castiel’s unspoken words instinctively. He believed in this, this moment, this love they had, this silent understanding, their story, their lives.
He wouldn’t get any closer to Heaven.

[sycophantastic.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Dean/Castiel, big black wings

[crimson-antics.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, any/any, The cold wind rips the covers from your bed.

[nbaeker.livejournal.com]

Gabriel shoots up in his bed as cold wind seems to tear his covers off. He feels a moment of panic which settles into a tight knot of foreboding in his stomach at the sight of his older brother.


"Lucifer."

"Hello, Gabriel."

They stay, silently staring at each other for a moment until Gabe shivers lightly.

"Why are you here?" he asks, not bothering to add that he's freezing and was it really necessary to tear the covers off like that?

"I.. missed you, brother," Lucifer says after a moment. "And you are hiding from Michael... but not from me."

Gabriel swallows hard at that.

"Ever think that's because I didn't think you'd ever get out?" he bluffs.

"Ever think you're nowhere near as good a liar as you pretend to be?" Lucifer counters, stalking closer.

He hovers near his younger brother, tilting his head to the side.

"No," he continues, "you hide from Michael but you do not hide from me because you wanted me to find you."

Gabriel laughs hollowly. "So what? You're still going to march off and fight Mikey and.."

Lucifer's lips crash down on his own and Gabriel is shoved back onto the bed.

"Hey!" he protests feebly and Lucifer tilts his head to one side.

"But this is what you want, isn't it?" he asks, and Gabriel's head falls back against the bed.

The same question had been put to him eons before -- before Lucifer fell, before he left...

His answer then had been silence, a stoic avoidance of his brother's gaze.

He knows the depth of the question goes far deeper than a simple tumble in the hay.


But he had not hidden himself from Lucifer.


"Yes" he says. "I want you."

[crimson-antics.livejournal.com]

X-Men, Wolverine/any, Vicariously I live while the whole world dies.

[sycophantastic.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Gabriel/Crowley, taking Growly (the pet Hellhound) to the park was kind of disastrous, but Gabriel fixes it.

[jabber-moose.livejournal.com]

no fic

For the love of all that's holy..yes!

[crimson-antics.livejournal.com]

X-Men, Angel/any, And love will keep me tethered, for my wings are stripped of flight.

Angel/Piotr with a small crossover to movieverse Spiderman

[smaragdbird.livejournal.com]

One moment He’s flying away from Alcatraz with his father in his arms and in the next he feels a sting, like from a bee, and suddenly falls harder and faster than he ever did before. He was never afraid of falling because he always instinctively knew that his wings would catch him but his wings are gone and he hears himself scream.
When he wakes up everything feels fuzzy and cold and hard and wet. He hears people scream and yell.
“Dad.” He whispers but there is no answer. He opens his eyes and sees the pavement is red with blood and something else and his father stares with open, dead eyes into the emptiness of the sky they fell from.
Angel can’t move. He wants to but he cannot move, his body is too heavy and too numb.

They bring him back to the mansion and once his head is more or less clear from all the painkillers they gave him, Dr. McCoy sits down at his bed and explains everything to him.
That the soldiers thought that he was a Brotherhood member.
That they shot him with the ‘Cure’.
That he will need physiotherapy because his muscles are used to his hollow, bird-like bones and cannot fully support a normal, human skeleton.
That his father is dead.
Angel doesn’t cry for him. He didn’t want his father dad but he still wasn’t over the fact that his father had considered him an abomination, a monster. And like every parent with a monstrous child he had hid his son away from the world.
He feels like a horrible son, though, because he can’t mourn for his father.

Jimmy comes by every day, tells him about living in the mansion upstairs, and the other mutant kids and that he can beat Artie Maddocks at basketball. They’re not blood related but ever since his father brought Jimmy to Alcatraz he had been Angel’s little brother and now he’s the only family he has left.
Harry, Angel hasn’t seen since he was twelve, comes by. Half of his face is horribly burnt and Harry explains with an lab accident and a spider. They may not have seen each other in ten years but Angel can still tell when his childhood best friend lies.
Harry tells him that he’ll help with the succession of Worthington Labs because he has already been through this and they’re still friends.
He’s not the only mutant in the infirmary. Angel doesn’t know him but he’s pretty sure that the dark haired man in the bed next to him that Bobby visits every day didn’t come to Alcatraz with the X-Men.
And then there’s Piotr. Piotr helps him with his therapy, helps him with the frustrating task to relearn everything he already knows he can do.
“Are you trained in this?” Angel one day grits out between his teeth while he tries to climb up a staircase.
“No.”
“I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can.” Piotr’s hands are strong and steady and his grip allows Angel to relax for a moment until he attacks the next step.
“Why are you doing this when you’re not trained for this?” He asks to prolong the brief interruption.
“Because I’m no teacher.”
What are you doing then? Angel wants to ask but Piotr lets go of him and he’s forced to carry his own weight again.

He makes progress sooner than he anticipated and can leave the infirmary. Harry asks him if he wants to return to New York but Angel declines and instead makes Harry his stand in for the firm.
It’s almost funny how Harry’s father was always disappointed with his son because Harry was a horrible scientist but a competent business man while for Angel it was exactly the other way round.
Angel likes to sit with Piotr and Jubilee, mainly because all the others around his age carry their stories around like crosses. He doesn’t know how to make friends with Bobby or Rogue or Kitty or John without knowing their history.
He shares a room with Piotr now instead of Bobby because Bobby asked for John to get his old bed back and Angel didn’t object. He likes Piotr more anyway.

[sycophantastic.livejournal.com]

RPS, Jensen/Misha, these moments are few and far between

[sycophantastic.livejournal.com]

Star Trek (2009), Spock/Kirk, "I don't understand the purpose of this activity, Jim"

[lizzie-marie-23.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Sam and Dean, dream vacation

[mad-maeglin.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Jo/Lucifer, Fast Car.

[mad-maeglin.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Castiel, Heavenly memos.

Filled: Office Space

[kaylynnkie.livejournal.com]

Also @ my journal here (http://kaylynnkie.livejournal.com/13900.html)

Dean had always called him a holy tax accountant, but he never knew how close that actually was to what he had used to do in Heaven. Castiel's God given task had been to prepare souls for divine judgment. Now, with Heaven in total disarray, Castiel's task didn't even exist. No souls were being judges. The upper and lower tiers of Eternity were suffering from the fact that no one had taken control Michael was gone, Lucifer was trapped within the walls of Hell and God was not in Heaven.
There was a hierarchy that had developed, and Raphael was running things when Castiel arrived.
“I see you've come back.”
You're talking.
“Not all of us returned from Earth unscathed.”
He had nodded at the archangel. “Father sent me.”
Raphael hadn't even startled. “Father does not concern himself with us anymore.”
“You're-”
“Are you here to help?”

Which had all led to him wandering the Divine Path, guiding souls gently back onto the path when they fell off to refused to walk it when he wasn't working with the other angels to repair the shambles of what had once been divinity and paradise incarnate.
One day, the pathway went dark and twisted in on itself. He had returned to the highest level of Paradise to see Raphael.
“I know. It means he's here.”
I don't-
“Go guide him.”
“I am not your subordinate, Raphael.” The air crackled dangerously between them.
“No, but he would want you to go to him, and you want to go.”

At the mouth of the Pathway stood Dean Winchester wearing a bemused expression and looking young and strong. Castiel meant to say something wise, worthy of his new rank as Seraphim, but he didn't quite manage it.
“I saw you die.”
Dean nodded. “I did do that.”
“You weren't scared.”
“No.”
“Why?”
He grinned. “Because I got to come back to you, assbutt.”

[modestroad.livejournal.com]

DCU, Batman, Joker, final battle

[modestroad.livejournal.com]

DCU, future!Damian Wayne/any, first time

[mad-maeglin.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Sam/Gabriel, "You were dead." "Death cannot stop true love." "...Seriously? You just made me Buttercup."

[neytiri-navi.livejournal.com]

Author's Note: It's late (or early, I suppose) so I apologize for any spelling/grammar mistakes I didn't catch. Hope you like it.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Sam's knocked on his ass. Literally right on his ass, which should never happen to people of gigantic stature he thinks while wincing; having to cover an extra-long distance to the ground means it really hurt when his ass finally connected with the cheap motel carpeting.

Sam's concern over his rather ungraceful rear-end plummet quickly gives way to bewilderment over the cause of his fall -- on his way out of the bathroom, he'd collided with a body.

A shorter body. An inexplicably strong and apparently immovable body.

Gabriel's body.

"Before you try for yourself," Gabriel says, summoning the silver knife and holy water from Sam's bag, willing the knife to slice a dark red line across his forearm before the water pours itself over the wound, mingling with blood and trickling harmlessly down to his fingers and onto the floor, "I thought I'd prove I'm really me."

Sam gapes as Gabriel's flesh knits back together. Then he stutters incoherently. Then he gapes again and claws at the carpeting, apparently ready to give bipedalism another try. Once he finally scrambles to his feet and finds his voice, Gabriel's practically giggling.

"You were dead."

The very-much-alive archangel clutches his hands together in front of his chest, pinches his face into a mockery of mooning reverence and says "Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while."

"But how did... what happened with... where were you... wait. Wait, seriously? You just made me Buttercup."

Sam can't decide whether he wants to kiss the resultant smirk off of Gabriel's face or smack it off.

"C'mon, Sammy, clearly between the two of us, I'm the dashing hero and you're the blushing damsel."

It's a bit unsettling that Gabriel's kind of right. Sam's mountain of a body and dark-side telekinesis can't compare to an archangel's ultimate cosmic powers. Sam tries not to appear overly petulant at this revelation.

"Really, how're you alive?"

"Helloooo, Trickster." Gabriel draws a few invisible circles in front of his own face.

"Yeah, I've heard that line before. Look, you basically left a suicide note. In a craptastic porno. Classy move, by the way."

"No problem, kiddo. After all, that's what I'm known for, poise and refinement."

Sam snorts. "Oh, absolutely."

They stare at each other for a moment; Sam wonders about the merits of continued interrogation with an archangel trickster who's apparently allergic to straight answers while Gabriel pops a chocolate Kiss that hadn't existed moments earlier into his mouth.

"Glad you're not dead," Sam mumbles, breaking the silence a bit more awkwardly than he would've liked.

Gabriel smirks again, conjures another Kiss into existence and offers it to Sam. "That's a Hallmark card I'd like to see."

Sam rolls his eyes and takes the Kiss. He seriously considers dragging Gabriel against his mouth for the real thing, opting instead for a stern admonishment against faking death ever again.

"Don't worry, Buttercup, I've done just about all the standing up I can handle. Actually I think I could do with a bit more laying down."

Gabriel snaps his fingers. The world seems to tilt sideways and black out for half a second before Sam finds himself lying on his back on the motel bed. Gabriel's pressed up against Sam's right side with his chin resting on Sam's ribs.

"Can we stay here for the next week? With maybe a few bathroom breaks for the human?" Gabriel asks, pouting his lower lip.

Grinning, Sam decides it's totally do-able.

[modestroad.livejournal.com]

DCU, Jason Todd, Cassandra Cane, outsiders

[modestroad.livejournal.com]

True Blood, Eric/any, first feeding

[samueljames]

Numb3rs, Don/Liz, we fucked while he was on the clock. He didnt even take off his bullet proof vest. Dont tell me thats not bad ass.

One of the texts from last night that I didn't get to use earlier in the week

[samueljames]

Without A Trace, Danny/Martin, attending a meeting together (AA or NA).