Friday - Free-For-All
Jun. 11th, 2010 11:00 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
monica-catch22.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
comment_ficHey, guys! It's that time of the week for you to let your imaginations go wild with no restraints, other than keeping it legal... and possibly bending a few laws (*winkwink*). As always, you only need to follow the rules:
Respect our awesome code monkeys, and follow the standard format with your prompts. Like so:
If you don't see any prompts that tickle your fancy, please take a gander at our lonely prompts section here.
TGIF!
theme="freeforall"
No spoilers in your prompts for at least one week after publication/air date.
If there are spoilers in your story, you must warn in bold and leave at least 3 spaces.
No more than 5 prompts in a row, and no more than 3 prompts per fandom. If one of your prompts is answered, you can prompt again.
Respect our awesome code monkeys, and follow the standard format with your prompts. Like so:
Burn Notice, Michael/author's choice, standing on the edge
White Collar/Leverage, Neal/Eliot, playtime
If you don't see any prompts that tickle your fancy, please take a gander at our lonely prompts section here.
TGIF!
theme="freeforall"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-06-11 03:00 pm (UTC)And I rode along side 'til you lost me... (Sam/Mike)
Date: 2010-06-11 09:29 pm (UTC)Sam's interested. He won't lie about that, or the subtle flirting he does with Michael; it's fun, a good way to blow off pressure.
Michael is the sort of interested that might mean disaster - horrified and compelled by the idea of his best friend as a sexually available being. Sam lets him know it's a possibility - he doesn't apply pressure either way. The attraction sits between them, gathering dust, waiting for a match strike to set it alight.
It's raining; Fi's back in Ireland; Ms. Reynolds has dumped Sam for a man willing to marry her ("I'm never getting married again, Mikey" he remarks, swallowing his misery with a mouthful of beer. "Women don't get me."). Sam brings the beer and some grilled chicken. They commiserate over their lost women, relaxed, enjoying the breeze through a cracked open window.
They're both slightly tipsy when they reach for the last beer, two hands moving to touch at the same time. A pulse of warmth kissing nerves, opening senses.
"So what's it gonna be, Mikey?"
For them, the edge between "kiss me" and "leave me alone" provides the deadliest fall of all.
And Michael jumps into the abyss without thinking twice.
no subject
Date: 2010-06-11 03:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-11 03:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-11 03:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-11 03:06 pm (UTC)SPN | Gabriel/Sam | I don't want to be your friend
Date: 2010-06-13 08:21 pm (UTC)It's only a matter of time before he dies again, sideswiped by a car or gutted by a passing stranger for no reason other than fate's cruel games and mindlessly set direction.
He walks a little further, past the town's small church and the little playground behind it. The playground is always empty, rusted swings vacant and playset abandoned, uncared for. Weeds grow within the rotting wood barrier, up through the shredded tires meant to cushion falls and cradle skinned knees.
Today, there is someone.
Sam's steps slow as he glances over, watches. It's a kid, maybe ten, eleven, cradled in one of the swings, his hand wrapped around the rusty chain and his feet dragging the ground. Sam glances back at Dean and waves, indicating his direction before slipping into the playground. He pads through the grass and cracked concrete to the swingset. The kid doesn't look up.
"Hey," Sam says softly. Nothing ever changes – but Sam isn't alone here, not anymore. Seeing something else change is… refreshing.
The kid kicks his feet a little, swings back. "Hey."
Sam drops down to sit, hands buried in warm rubber. "What're you doing here?"
"Didn't feel like being home."
"Why not?"
Bright tawny eyes lock on Sam's. "Why're you so nosy?"
Sam quirks a small smile. "Just curious. What's your name?"
Lips pursing in a suspicious glare, Sam's new "friend" swings back and forth, rocking with the breeze. "… Gabriel," he says at length.
"Gabriel." Sam's smile widens. "Like the angel."
"Yeah." Dryly. "Like the angel."
"I'm Sam."
Gabriel nods and drops his eyes to Sam's knees, feet kicking again, ever-restless. "You should go."
Sam slides his gaze over to the sidewalk. He can see Dean approaching. "Yeah. I probably should." He stands, dusts his jeans off, and turns. A small hand grabs his wrist, fisting in his jacket.
"Sam."
"Yeah?" Sam turns, glancing over his shoulder. Gabriel's eyes are trained on him, intent and bright.
"You're not my friend."
Dean screams.
Sam whirls, staring as a semi – all sixteen wheels of it – slams into Dean and rolls over him, his body tripping and sliding under the wheels, crushed in a hundred different ways. Sam's breath hammers out of him, staccato.
He looks back and Gabriel is gone.
And then it's Tuesday again.
no subject
Date: 2010-06-11 03:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-11 03:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-11 07:18 pm (UTC)Jesse will tell himself that the reason he's sitting in the audience is to see his old classmates again, see them take home another win, (hoping the new lead is not as good as him, but good enough for Vocal Adrenaline to win.) Not her. It's definitively not for her.
**
College was not as Jesse had expected. In LA he was a big fish, but in a very huge pond. There were lots of other boys with the same talents as him. But he worked hard and soon got the respect and social standing he deserved.
Rachel Berry had not often crossed his mind. Only when he heard a Madonna song would his thoughts stray to the girl with the warm brown eyes and the best voice he had heard in ages. Perhaps what he missed the most about Rachel was how good their voices had been together. Singing with her had been some of the most fun times he had had in high school.
But he did not think much about Rachel. He just would not let himself think about her. And if there was one thing Jesse St. James was good at (besides singing) it was self discipline. You did not get as good as he was by not pressing yourself, keeping yourself in check. No one thought it was fun to get up at 6 am on a Saturday morning just to work out and sing a few high notes, before getting a few hours more sleep. But Jesse did that; every day since he was twelve. Whatever it took, he would do it, because Jesse was going to be a star.
So training himself to not think about Rachel Berry hadn't been all that hard. Not really. But sometimes things would jolt him, like Hello playing on the radio, and he would spend several minutes spaced out thinking about Rachel and how her kisses had been the best he had experienced. How her soft hair had felt when he ran it through his fingers. How nice it had been to hold her hand.
He heard New Directions won Sectionals and Jesse smiled and knew it was probably thanks to Rachel. She was too good for that school, and that horrible show-choir. Had she gone to Carmel, she would have been queen. He would have made sure of that.
Vocal Adrenaline won their Sectionals too, of course. When Andrea sent him an email asking him if he wanted to come see them at Regionals, he agreed at once. He was more than curious to see how they got on without him. Shelby had left too, and Jesse wondered if the new director was good enough.
When he entered the concert hall, Jesse looked around. It took him a minute to realize that he was looking for her. He had to shake himself and remind himself that she was not important. She was bad history. Besides, she probably hated his guts. He would, had she done the same to him.
Still, when the curtain goes up, and she steps out on the stage, more radiant and more beautiful than ever, Jesse knew he came for her.
no subject
Date: 2010-06-11 03:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-11 03:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-11 03:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-11 03:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-11 03:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-11 03:14 pm (UTC)Kate/Bucky
Date: 2010-06-12 04:28 am (UTC)He wants to ask Kate about her perfume, he wants to tell her about this half forgotten memory, but he can't think of a way to frame the words so that it doesn't sound like he's comparing her to a french whore. Because he's not, she's brave, and strong, and incredible, and if he was going to compare her to anyone it would be to Toro, or any of the other young soldiers he'd spent time with. Because she's more a comrade in arms than a distraction from battle. And when he smells lilacs, it's not the sun warmed skin of a girl who's name he can't remember that he's thinking of, but the sun warmed skin of a girl who'd shoot him full of arrows if she knew what he was thinking every time he caught her scent. So he tucks that memory away, and tries not to think about it too much. And he brings a bouquet of lilacs with him when he comes to ask her out to dinner.
Re: Kate/Bucky
From:Re: Kate/Bucky
From:no subject
Date: 2010-06-11 03:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-11 03:16 pm (UTC)In Ancient Glory
Date: 2010-06-11 06:12 pm (UTC)Gabriel is light and life. He laughs when all is not well, when all of Hell and all of Heaven have bent their forces towards their little band. He jokes when Sam can only see darkness and smiles in the face of Sam's weaknesses. He often comments that Sam is the most human of them all. Sam wonders if this is true, because as he watches Dean grow farther and farther from him, sunk into responsibility and burdened with knowing death most intimately, he thinks he knows what Gabriel is saying is no joke.
Sam watches his brother lean towards Castiel, like a plant to sun. He watches Castiel, the way that he knows Dean, better even than Sam sometimes. But they will do nothing and Dean frowns at Gabriel's arm around Sam's shoulders. He will drag Castiel no further downward, Sam knows that Dean already bears the guilt of all Castiel's pain. Sam sometimes wishes he had his brother's strength.
But he doesn't. He aches for Gabriel's touch like any addict. Sam can still remember the taste of demon blood, he can feel the power in his veins. But when Gabriel touches him, when Gabriel laughs and his attention is filled with only Sam, he can forget for a little while what it felt like. So he ignores the signs and pushes away the guilt.
But sometimes, and oh how painful it is, Sam can see Gabriel. Really see him. In battle, it is clear who and what he is. But the worst of it is that in the twist and turn of Gabriel's words there will come out a word or two, sometimes a phrase, something small but imbued with power. Sam can see the glorious messenger, he can almost feel the way that the word of God must have tasted on his tongue.
Sam can see his Archangel, a little damaged.
And he knows why this is.
no subject
Date: 2010-06-11 03:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-11 03:18 pm (UTC)Sometimes Crowley is far too perceptive for his own good. . . .
Date: 2010-06-11 09:13 pm (UTC)They'd been there from the start, and it was business before it was a morbid fascination, and a morbid fascination before it was a fond one, but even when they had more or less given up, and meddled in small places because meddling in the big places didn't do any good, it was still a business. Even for Aziraphale.
Loss of innocence is like that.
Crowley hadn't said anything about this Crusade when he showed up in Palestine in the wake of it. He had, however, brought along as much good wine as an angel could drink and claimed his plan had been to sell it to the Christian soldiers. He knew Aziraphale saw right through that, as they had started home nearly a year and a half before, and angels and demons got news quickly regardless of the century.
He also poured more wine and listened to the angel's increasingly incoherent rants about how humanity could be so utterly stupid at times and how he missed his books and scrolls.
"Did you ever think about going back?" Crowley asked suddenly, breaking into Aziraphale's ramblings about King Richard and the Sultan and how they really would get along splendidly if they had bothered to stop the war.
Aziraphale looked up from the wine. "I beg your pardon?"
Crowley grinned, showing slightly sharper-than-human teeth. "You know, to Eden. Isn't that where they're trying to get in the end?"
The angel's brow wrinkled. "Are they?"
"Yes, angel. Let's go back to Eden."
***
It's changed. The Tigris and the Euphrates are still there, and there's still a little patch of not-quite-real-estate that held, once upon a time, all the wonders of Creation. But now it's empty, and it's another jungle. A place of slightly sheepish predators and slightly hopeful prey, because there's still just a hint of a glow.
Aziraphale, who was never a great fan of drunken flight with a demon in tow, scowled. "Why are we here, Crowley?"
Crowley waved a hand vaguely. He probably ought to have sobered up. "Because sometimes it's nice to go back. To where it all started, you know."
"No, Crawly, I don't."
Crowley pouted. "Now, angel, y'don'haveta do that." He considered it for a moment. "You're sober, aren't you?"
"Mostly, yes."
Crowley sighed and winced, forcing alcohol out of his blood stream. "Sometimes, angel, it's nice to go back because we can see our side of the cosmic chessboard from here, sort of thing."
"Oh?"
"They're all trying to get back here."
"So you said."
"But they can't."
Aziraphale sighed. "I can see that. It wasn't precisely easy for us to get back, my dear, and we weren't cast out of it."
"That's not what I mean." Crowley waved a hand vaguely, trying to fully take in his meaning. "They're trying to get back to what it used to be. And it's not there anymore. We can't even go back to Eden. But this is what, the third time Europe's tried to go back to the place?"
Aziraphale scowled. "And every time they try they get farther away from it. The blood, the destruction . . . they don't get it, Crowley! So many of them don't even check to make sure they're actually enemies!"
They stared at each other for a moment, the angel panting angrily.
"Only some of them," Crowley answered. "And Europe's finally on its way out of the Dark Ages."
Aziraphale glared and grumbled something about Rome.
"Undoubtably," Crowley answered. "Rome was a lot more interesting. Our little baby Europe is growing up, angel. And teenagers always belong to my side."
Aziraphale shook his head. "They do."
Crowley grinned. "We should go back to it and raise it right. You know, as bright and upstanding as you want it, and just wicked enough to stay interesting."
"You brought me all the way to Eden to tell me that?"
"Sure. I don't know. Sometimes I wonder if . . . if G- He - "
Aziraphale smiled. "If God intended peopel to mature by trying to regain lost innocence?"
"When you put it like that, it sounds so cheesy," Crowley complained. He climbed a hill towards a familiar-looking tree. "One thing still tastes the same in Eden, though. Well, two, really." Now the grin was almost lecherous. "Shall we try them both?"
no subject
Date: 2010-06-11 03:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-11 03:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-11 03:21 pm (UTC)Filled!! Better late than never right?
Date: 2011-01-21 07:48 pm (UTC)There was something familiar about him right away, nothing as obvious as recognizing his face, more that she saw something in his eyes that reminded her of someone, but Charlie couldn’t quite put her finger on who.
The more she watches him, watching her watching him, the heavier the weight in her belly seemed to feel, the more Charlie thought maybe, maybe, she knew who he was and it’s just terrifying enough a thought she can’t bear to follow it through.
The way he, Michael, talks though, it’s not normal. He talks like Angels and Demons are real and coming and there’s nothing they can do except wait for her to have this baby, this terrible-wonderful unwanted baby, and maybe if they’re lucky they’ll survive long enough to save the world.
There’s something in his eyes though, those terribly human eyes in an Angelic face, something that says this is more than a mission, more than duty to God. This is personal.
Charlie won’t ever forget those eyes, she never could, it’s what drew her to him in the first place.
(has sequel HERE (http://community.livejournal.com/comment_fic/122694.html?thread=26505286#t26505286) from another prompt – pairing is the same Michael/Charlie – same-ish thing from Michael’s perspective)
Re: Filled!! Better late than never right?
From:Re: Filled!! Better late than never right?
From:no subject
Date: 2010-06-11 03:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-11 03:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-11 03:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-12 08:49 pm (UTC)Alastair doesn't complain. He glares hatefully at Castiel, instead. That changes when he sees Lucifer kneel over the insensate angel and bestow a kiss on his slack lips. He knows he is lucky to be alive after almost killing someone his master cares for.
During the two weeks he is being tortured, by lesser and unworthy demons, his mind often turns to Castiel and what Lucifer's love of the angel will mean for the demon hoard. When he returns to his Master's side, he find's Castiel sitting on Lucifer's lap, dressed in black leather and wearing a think black collar. He is looking at Lucifer with adoring eyes.
If Alastair had less of a sense of self-preservation, he would snort. If Castiel is weak enough to be corrupted in less than two weeks, than he represents no threat to Lucifer's plans. Alastair feels stupid for worrying over the ramifications of his presence. He turns away in disgust and doesn't see the knife Castiel plunges into his back.
He also doesn't see Castiel return to Lucifer's side, soaked in blood and smiling a smile of pure madness.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2010-06-11 03:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-11 03:57 pm (UTC)Gabriel, naturally, was not 'most angels.'
Once upon a time, Gabriel felt like home, energy and light. The air around him tasted like freedom, hope, Heaven and purpose.
Now, he appears next to Castiel with the essence of something rich and dark, sweet and forbidden. To Castiel, the air around him is tinged with humor and something bittersweet.
Like chocolate.
Such a human decadence, but Castiel wants more. Wants to hold on, to touch and taste.
"For me to melt in your mouth, not in your hands," Gabriel had teased, eyes laughing at Castiel.
Castiel hadn't gotten the reference, but Gabriel's hands were in his hair, on his back,warm and soft and smooth.
He tasted sweet and sad, lost and grounded.
He tasted like history and creation.
Castiel wanted. Just wanted .
If Dean and Sam noticed Castiel taking chocolate candies from a bowl at a diner, and sampling with a look that could have been described as bliss..they never said a word
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2010-06-11 03:24 pm (UTC)