Friday: Free For All
Sep. 10th, 2010 02:13 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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comment_ficHappy Friday everyone! It's another Free For All, so get your prompts and creative juices ready, because all prompts, fandoms, and pairings are welcome today!
Just remember to play by the rules:
No more than 5 prompts in a row, no more than 3 prompts per fandom. If someone answers a prompt, you can prompt again.
No spoilers in your prompts for up to 1 week after the original air/publication date. If there's spoilers in your fic, warn in bold and leave at least 3 spaces. This is especially important as the Fall season is gearing up!
For the love of our volunteer code monkeys and sorters, please format everything properly. For example:
And, as ever, if you can't find something to pique your interest, feel free to peruse our lonely prompts. Keep in mind, this weekend is a contest weekend!
Speaking of lonely prompts, a quick note: there may be issues accessing posts from certain users, even in the community. I don't know if it's from LJ purging inactive members, or if they deleted their journals, but even I as a maintainer do not have access to them. For now I'm having the sorters leave those prompts archived in Delicious, and will address them once it's determined if we can get those entries back.
Just remember to play by the rules:
No more than 5 prompts in a row, no more than 3 prompts per fandom. If someone answers a prompt, you can prompt again.
No spoilers in your prompts for up to 1 week after the original air/publication date. If there's spoilers in your fic, warn in bold and leave at least 3 spaces. This is especially important as the Fall season is gearing up!
For the love of our volunteer code monkeys and sorters, please format everything properly. For example:
White Collar, Neal/Peter, clever (sticky) fingers
Inception/Leverage, Eliot/Parker/Hardison, (fusion au) you've got to dream a little bigger darling
And, as ever, if you can't find something to pique your interest, feel free to peruse our lonely prompts. Keep in mind, this weekend is a contest weekend!
Speaking of lonely prompts, a quick note: there may be issues accessing posts from certain users, even in the community. I don't know if it's from LJ purging inactive members, or if they deleted their journals, but even I as a maintainer do not have access to them. For now I'm having the sorters leave those prompts archived in Delicious, and will address them once it's determined if we can get those entries back.
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no subject
Date: 2010-09-10 03:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-10 03:30 pm (UTC)Fill! R/Mature-ish
Date: 2010-10-20 02:21 am (UTC)Sam doesn’t swing this way, but he doesn’t really care for anything beyond the now anymore. When the fact he’s still alive and breathing is a miracle in and of itself, he has a hard time caring for much beyond the basics.
The Devil is gone, banished, and his two vessels are left cold and alone on a dark highway somewhere in Arizona (Sam thinks). Sam’s still waiting for the punch line, but in the meantime, he’s okay with tumbling into questionably clean sheets with the only other person who could possibly understand what he has gone through.
In time, Sam knows, that they’re going to have to get real, grow up, that they can’t spend forever entangled together, rocking against each other and breathing in each other’s space. This is forgetting though, this perfect bliss that leaves them both sated and exhausted, and Sam isn’t ready to remember.
He doesn’t want to think about anything beyond what Nick’s skin taste likes, the sounds he makes when Sam scrapes his teeth across his chest and stomach, or the way he feels when Sam buries himself inside of him.
Sam saved the world and his brother has his own life, family. So, Sam thinks it’s understandable if he avoids his mistakes for a little while longer. It’s not like Nick is complaining, anyways.
Re: Fill! R/Mature-ish
From:Re: Fill! R/Mature-ish
From:Re: Fill! R/Mature-ish
From:no subject
Date: 2010-09-10 03:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-10 03:31 pm (UTC)Filth Under Your Nails Never Comes Out (Silent Hill 3 - Claudia-centric, minor Claudia/Alessa) R
Date: 2010-09-11 06:35 am (UTC)Warnings: DARK!, Character death, Religious tones, and Spoilers for SH3, specifically near the end of the game.
---
Claudia dreams of blood and death. Of a world dying from its' own sins at every step. Yet, when she awakens, sees the hell of a world she's helped create, Claudia smiles because she sees things in progress. The world will be born anew soon enough and there will be harmony at every step. Toluca Lake will glimmer in the everlasting sunlight outside her doors. God will make this so.
However, there are things that plague her mind, specifically a young woman. One she's known her whole life and yet, does not know her. Heather is not Alessa, but Claudia can feel familiarity in being near her. Talking to her reminds Claudia of a time when the world was less ugly, but it does not bring back those days for the walls still bleed and screams still fill the air.
There's no changing the past.
Yet Claudia finds herself coming to see Heather more and more often, taunting her to further fill her heart with hate so God can grow stronger. Except, the more she sees her, the more she desires her in ways she knows are filthy and sinful. It would be easier to just wash her hands completely of Heather but they needed God to reach Paradise. So the temptation was allowed to wander. To risk life and limb in the perils of this world Claudia cohabited, and the whole while, Claudia both hoped for the girl's death and safety.
Finally, the doors to the church's heart open and there, there is Heather. She looks older than she did when this all began, tired and haggard, but resistance and tough. Claudia can feel her loins ache for the girl as she approaches.
Vincent's blood is hot on Claudia's hands and glee is thick in her throat as Heather hesitates, feeling hopeless, despaired. Yet there's fire flickering behind Heather's eyes. It reminds Claudia of another fire, long ago. Heather reaches for the necklace around her neck and extracts something. It touches her lips and it's Claudia's turn to hesitate and for the first time, fear.
Next thing she knows, God is laying on the ground, a black lump quickly dying after its abortion. Claudia struggles to comprehend what has happened and when she does, her desire for her past is quickly replaced with her obsession to make the world right. Claudia swallows God down and hopes it's not too late.
She forgets to breath for a moment. Her lungs squeeze upon themselves, waiting for the next intake of air. They wait to be replenished as their owner waits for a sign that she has done right by her God. A stab of pain fills her gut and quickly spreads throughout her, shredding her from the inside out. Screaming, her lungs struggle for more air but too much is being expelled at once to make them happy. Suddenly breathing becomes a foreign task because there's pain everywhere and Claudia doesn't know what's up and what's down anymore. Her lungs begin to suffocate as God is born from her.
Unconsciousness, not long, a second, two perhaps, but even before she opens her eyes, Claudia knows something is wrong with God. There is no Paradise only a monster that disappears into darkness below as quickly as it appeared on Earth. Her chest rises in a shallow attempt to breathe, eyes finding the wide-eyed teen staring down at what's left of her. Her mouth opens to say something.
Anything.
An apology to Alessa. That's what she wants to say, but there is no more breath in her. Claudia is dying and in her last moments, she sees Alessa before her, as she was before the fire. Sees the girl she fell in love without ever realizing that it was love she felt for the girl.
Then there's darkness as 'God' drags her down below to the bowels of Hell where Claudia knows she belongs because she's failed.
Then nothing.
Re: Filth Under Your Nails Never Comes Out (Silent Hill 3 - Claudia-centric, minor Claudia/Alessa)
From:Re: Filth Under Your Nails Never Comes Out (Silent Hill 3 - Claudia-centric, minor Claudia/Alessa)
From:no subject
Date: 2010-09-10 03:34 pm (UTC)What the Eye Cannot
Date: 2010-09-10 08:21 pm (UTC)Angrboda’s a hellcat in bed and fiercely protective of their children, and when she dies (murdered, a ugly part of Gabriel whispers and remembers blood and pain and genocide) it’s as if the core of his grace goes with her.
*
Sigyn is different; softer where Angrboda had been harsh lines and wiry strength, and he can’t help but compare the differences between them. His new wife has silver hair, sleek as moonlight on waves as it slides between his fingers; she was a brunette, black locks framing angular features and… Sigyn is delicate by comparison, a finely sculpted doll of pale skin and surreal beauty.
He’d be the first to admit that he’s not a very good husband; Sigyn, for her part, never complains. She’s the definition of a good wife; loyal, obedient, and readily available to warm his bed whenever he’s in the mood. Some part of him snarls at just how weak she is, how unlike her… His Angrboda was more of a goddess then this frail little thing could ever aspire to. He grudgingly comes to tolerate her over time; at the least, she’s a hell of a cook.
He catches her watching him, sometimes, just – staring at him, long, searching glances. He finds her standing quietly in corners, seemingly content to observe whatever he happens to be doing at the moment. She’s quietly disapproving of some of his more – creative activities, but she never speaks a word.
And when she comes, bowl in hand, to catch the serpent’s venom he stares at her, recognizing the soul burning behind pale skin and delicate features, and wonders what he did to earn such loyalty.
*
He finds her again in Rome; the city is ripe with sin, and Hermes – or Mercury, whatever he’s calling himself these days – has graciously allowed him to share. She’s the third daughter of a relatively minor merchant; her father fancies himself something of a scholar, and teaches her how to read and write. It’s the first time he sees her as human, and he stares for a moment, stunned beyond words at how soft she is, how small, how fragile…
Her soul burns, though, a column of light and fire more than a match for any divinity and so achingly familiar he nearly weeps in recognition.
He pays the bride-price without a second thought.
*
Gabriel begins to get suspicious somewhere down the line. He’s actually put some serious thought into figuring this – whatever the hell it is – out. He’s discovered that the only times his lover is entirely unfamiliar to him is either when he knows damn well that they’ve been around since before his last marriage or if she has just died.
As an experiment, once, he walks into a random brothel in France, closes his eyes, spin in a circle, and selects a woman at random.
That also marks the first – and only – time he’s ever seen her work as a prostitute. He made a point of hunting down every damn one of her former clients and showing them exactly why you don’t touch what’s his.
The brothel itself might also have sustained serious structural damage.
*
Gabriel’s mildly surprised the first time he recognizes her soul in a male body. Whatever, it’s not like Gabriel’s actually got a gender, and he’s always been open to new experiences.
Gabriel’s right.
The sex is awesome.
*
He carefully avoids thinking about how Svadilfari suddenly seems so familiar.
*
Egypt, and she’s a dancer; India, a high-caste warrior. Greece, China, Japan, Africa, America, Brazil –anywhere and everywhere he goes, s/he follows – or is waiting for him in turn.
He gives up trying to figure it out after a while. It’s weird, but - he doesn’t really want to know. It’s more than enough to know that it is, that the soul is waiting for him, that wherever he goes, s/he will follow him. It’s a small slice of home – his real home, of light and love and unwavering devotion, not the shallow mockery of that came about after the Fall.
*
The first time he actually looks at Sam Winchester’s soul Gabriel laughs and laughs and laughs.
Re: What the Eye Cannot
From:no subject
Date: 2010-09-10 03:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-10 04:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-10 04:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-10 04:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-10 04:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-10 04:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-10 04:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-10 04:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-10 05:29 pm (UTC)My Silent Warrior
Date: 2010-09-10 10:00 pm (UTC)Now he doesn't even react to my scrutiny.
We're the same size, so he wears my clothing. For some reason, he's developed an attachment to the dark blue hoodie I originally stole from Sam back when Sam was about seven inches and G-d knows how many shirt sizes smaller. The coat he wears, though, over everything is Sam's brown one.
He loves food, though he won't ever drink anything stronger than beer. From his expression, I think he remembers how sick he felt after drinking a liquor store.
He can't speak anymore, but he knows how to sign and he's teaching Sammy how to do it better. He seemed amused that I knew how already, until I told him I'd been mute a long time as a kid and learned it then.
But it's the fact that he can't hear that's the biggest difference in him. He can't even hear things with his mind. Once he signed to me that he can't even remember what certain things sound like. Like his brothers' voices. Like the whisper of the wind in the trees.
Like my voice.
I'm slowly forgetting his, too.
We worried like hell about him -- until we were on our first hunt since he crashed back into our lives -- literally. Sammy and I were pinned, and then he was just -- there. My own guardian angel, on the job as usual.
Most of his angel mojo is gone -- removed with his hearing and speech. But he knows how to fight and he's damned good at it. He kicked ass -- not just the demon's but the stupid human asses who thought we would be easy marks.
We still worry -- but now he's with us. An equal partner in our hunts and our research.
A deaf angel in human clothes with a smile that will melt your heart.
My silent warrior.
Re: My Silent Warrior
From:Re: My Silent Warrior
From:Re: My Silent Warrior
From:R - D/S/C
From:no subject
Date: 2010-09-10 05:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-10 05:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-10 05:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-10 05:39 pm (UTC)Fill: Let's Run Away
Date: 2010-09-26 05:21 am (UTC)Gabriel stands in front of Castiel, reaching out and pulling the bottle of whiskey away from the other Angel. "What are you doing?"
"Drinking the liquor store." Castiel sways on his feet, more affected by the alcohol than he should be. He really is losing his Grace and it breaks Gabriel's heart to see it. Castiel is his favorite little brother.
"Why?" Gabriel reaches out with his Grace and curls it tightly around the tattered remains of Castiel's.
So occupied with filling in the dark spots in Castiel's Grace, Gabriel doesn't see the first shove coming. Castiel glares down at him from his new found seat on the floor. His Grace jerks away from Gabriel's, forcing it out of his vessel.
"You don't get to come back to me and act like nothing ever happened. Like we're still the same and you can fix everything. Like you have the right to even try anymore. You left, ran away like a coward. You left me alone because you were to selfish and caught up in your own pain to know that everyone else was hurting too. To know that I was hurting and still am." Castiel says, panting heavily now.
Gabriel stares at the ground, letting his brother's words cut deep inside of him, making him bleed in places he thought he'd left behind. They're all true, every bit of it. It hurts and it makes Gabriel want to run from Castiel now, but he stays where he is, on the dirty, scuffed floor of a liquor store.
He looks up and meets the furious gaze of his brother and says the only thing he can think of. "I'm sorry."
Castiel glares down at him for a few more seconds before reaching down and pulling Gabriel up roughly. "Yes, you should be."
"I left because I thought I could protect you from my own pain. I didn't want it to infect you like it did me. You were too pure for that, you still are. I just didn't want you to be as bitter and cynical as I am. I left so you could have a chance to be happy." Gabriel tenatively reaches out with his Grace again and this time Castiel allows the touch, pushing his Grace up to twine with Gabriel's.
"When you left, I lost a part of me. So please, don't protect me from you. There's no reason to. I love you." Castiel tugs Gabriel closer to him and smiles at him.
"I love you too." Gabriel smiles, a true smile, the first in centuries, and kisses Castiel softly.
Re: Fill: Let's Run Away
From:Re: Fill: Let's Run Away
From:Re: Fill: Let's Run Away
From:Re: Fill: Let's Run Away
From:no subject
Date: 2010-09-10 05:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-10 06:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-10 06:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-10 06:15 pm (UTC)im in ur brain filin ur prompt
Date: 2010-10-05 03:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-10 06:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-10 06:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-10 06:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-10 10:50 pm (UTC)“It’s a very distinctive look” Eliot would probably say. Or maybe it would be his hands.
Who was he kidding? He didn’t catch half the things Eliot saw. He probably couldn’t guess what tipped Eliot off.
He’s used to this though.
Used to not letting himself watch the clock because he knows Eliot will get home when he gets home and knowing exactly how late Eliot was this time will only make him wonder if tonight is the night Eliot doesn’t come home.
Used to keeping the medical closet (because with guys like Eliot you need an entire closet) well stocked.
Used to the guy you love walking in the front door barely under his own power.
Used to washing the blood of the guy he loved off his hands and bathroom floor after treating the most recent rounds of injuries and putting said guy to bed.
Sometimes when he’s doing the waiting or the washing he’ll think of the one who came before. Of the guy he took off with, left Nana’s with, first entered the criminal underworld with. He remembers the world being full of opportunities and thinking they were invincible and that no power in the verse could stop them.
He remembers how the world started to close in during those hours waiting for Him to come home and how somehow with blood he’d washed away the glimmer on their world.
He remembers the day He didn’t come home.
The door opens and Eliot’s there, leaning against the frame, white bandages and purple bruises contrasting sharply against golden skin. “Your thinking about him again.” He states softly, moving across the space between them with grace no one as badly hurt as him has any right to have.
“How do you know?” Hardison asks, looking back to the sink and splashing water on his face.
A hand settles on his shoulder, offering no promises Eliot couldn’t be sure to keep, but offering this moment all the same.
And that’s also something Hardison remembers.
“It’s a very distinctive look.”
(no subject)
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