Monday - Picture Prompts
Mar. 23rd, 2009 07:36 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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comment_ficHiya - I'm Toes. I'll be your guest host for the week!
For today's theme, we'll be using pictures as prompts instead of words. Any fandom, any pairing - one prompt per comment! Please follow the right format to make things easier for our lovely code-monkeys, like this:
Leverage, Nate/Hardison, coffee
Merlin, Arthur/Merlin, sheep
Lost/Heroes, Charlie/Monica, park bench
You can leave as many prompts as you'd like, and you can even write your own.
If nothing's striking you visually, then you should absolutely head over to the Lonely Prompts index and give something over there a good home.
For today's theme, we'll be using pictures as prompts instead of words. Any fandom, any pairing - one prompt per comment! Please follow the right format to make things easier for our lovely code-monkeys, like this:
Leverage, Nate/Hardison, coffee
Merlin, Arthur/Merlin, sheep
Lost/Heroes, Charlie/Monica, park bench
You can leave as many prompts as you'd like, and you can even write your own.
If nothing's striking you visually, then you should absolutely head over to the Lonely Prompts index and give something over there a good home.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-03-23 07:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-23 07:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-23 12:37 pm (UTC)Merlin is buried in the swaying grass like he's fallen there from above, Arthur balanced above him, smiling down like he owns absolutely everything. Merlin refuses to admit out loud that he just might. In fact, he thinks he should call him on his arrogance, but every time he knows just what to say Arthur will lean in, and crush it back into his mouth, turn it into noise and need.
The wind only serves to make Arthur more magnificent, every time he slides back it takes his hair and throws it back messier than before, lending him a wild, feral, look that Merlin has no defence against. He reaches up, fingers skidding on bare skin, he fails to reclaim Arthur by force so brings him by encouragement instead. Breathes out when he crushes him into the grass. When he spreads the grass flat and kisses him, follows the line of Merlin's throat until there's just sting and sensation.
Merlin rolls his head sideways. A lonely sheep stands on a patch of higher ground.
It's watching them.
The next time Arthur leans down Merlin makes a noise, which is less than happy.
Arthur's sigh is loud against the side of Merlin's face.
"What is it?"
Merlin tips his head sideways. Arthur's eyes follow the movement.
"It's a sheep?" Arthur says slowly, like Merlin hasn't quite explained what the problem was, or possibly like he thought it might attack them.
"I can't do this while it's..." Merlin gestures in a vague sort of way, perfectly aware that what he's about to say is going to come out wrong. "I can't do this while it's watching."
Arthur considers the sheep for a moment, expression fierce.
"What are the chances that it's a sorcerer pretending to be a sheep."
The sheep eats some grass.
It makes digestive noises.
"Fairly low," Merlin admits.
"Then it doesn't matter," Arthur says, like that will be his final word on it. His fingers find Merlin's grass-strewn hair, pull until Merlin has little choice but to let Arthur own him just a little more, and finally grumbles assent.
(no subject)
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From:no subject
Date: 2009-03-23 07:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-23 08:07 am (UTC)A Haunting Intimacy
Date: 2010-10-31 03:57 pm (UTC)http://impatient-dream.livejournal.com/2418.html
no subject
Date: 2009-03-23 09:43 am (UTC)Fic: Weiss Kreuz, Schuldich x Ken, True Love vs. Real Life
Date: 2009-05-07 05:42 am (UTC)Rating: Rish
Warnings: sexy stuff, maybe? AUish too.
Ken wasn’t sure when it had happened. Probably some time after they finally killed those assholes from Rosenkrutz. They had met, they had talked and suddenly Schuldich had made a lot of sense to Ken. So they’d met again and again and again.
Coffee turned into lunch, lunch turned into dinner, dinner turned into sex and suddenly Ken was staying the night.
Then all hell had broken lose. Someone came gunning for Weiss and they all had to scatter. He couldn’t get word to Schuldich. He couldn’t even say goodbye.
He left for England with Ran and that was that.
But at night, when he was alone in bed, he sometimes imagined he could smell cigarette smoke on his skin and hear Shu’s very particular husky laugh echoing through the night.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2009-03-23 09:54 am (UTC)Touch of Magic [merlin/arthur]
Date: 2009-03-24 09:04 am (UTC)He let himself connect to the dense population of trees and suddenly there is a rush of noise before it quietens to a more manageable level. A rabbit hopped through the overgrown greenery on the floor coming closer when it ascertained there was no threat.
The trees whispered to him of Arthur’s approach long before the man himself ever got close. The warlock lent against a tree to wait, passing the time idly whilst the tree told him stories of the young prince. Briefly he remembers the time when the trees did not warn him of his lover’s approach. It had been most... enjoyable.
When Arthur finally approached the rabbit resting comfortably by Merlin’s foot had tensed and prepared to run until the prince held up his hands, displaying his palms in a gesture designed to calm. It had been Merlin’s one rule that he had insisted upon before he brought the prince here. His sword and dagger were resting at the edge of the forest, carefully hidden from view by the foliage at the edge of the path.
Arthur had objected until the warlock had pointed out if he was dead then a sword really wouldn’t be much use. With magic in the air it had been hard to argue with, for more than a few hours at least as Merlin had been forced to endure a lecture about knights and their weaponry.
Arthur’s hot mouth claimed his and after a moment the hands Merlin had brought to rest on the other man’s chest had slid upwards to pull his lover close. This was the one place they could be free with their affections and it was liberating to be able to touch without risk of censure.
His fingers sank into soft hair and the ends ticked the back of Merlin’s hands. Arthur’s hand skimmed lower and he arched his back as it cupped his cock through his breeches. He felt the smile at the sound of pleasure he emitted and sent a flash of magic down his lover’s spine in retaliation. Crushed against the trunk of the tree Merlin had a brief moment to wish he’d waited in the clearing further down the path before Arthur’s fingers were undoing his laces eager to touch bare skin.
Re: Touch of Magic [merlin/arthur]
From:no subject
Date: 2009-03-23 10:05 am (UTC)Fic: Weiss Kreuz, author's choice, "Shadow owes its birth to light."; PG-13
Date: 2009-05-07 03:43 am (UTC)Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Angst
Aya knew, deep down inside, that his sister would never have approved of the things he did. He knew that, if positions were reversed, she would never have considered revenge. He knew that she would die before she would harm another human being. He knew that she wouldn’t want him to give up his name, his identity to avenge her.
However, Aya couldn’t seem to make himself stop. To change his own mind.
Aya-chan wasn’t there to scold him. She wasn’t there to tell him what he was doing was wrong. She wasn’t there to tell him that one day things would be better.
He couldn’t believe things would be better. Not while he was on his own.
So he fought and he killed and sat with his brain dead sister and tried to remember how to live.
no subject
Date: 2009-03-23 10:05 am (UTC)For Deliverance | Dean, Castiel
Date: 2009-03-23 12:09 pm (UTC)"Dean," the call of his name brushes against his skin like feathers, the sound of fluttering wings before the angel materialises beside him.
"Castiel," he greets, the name a gasp of air sliding from a parched mouth; his fingers curl into the stone he still grips, anchoring himself to the world. His fingers bleed.
"You should be resting," the angel speaks and Dean wants to snort out a laugh or shoot him down with a witty retort, but the tremble in his legs has reached his arms and his vision swirls as he blinks the sweat from his eyes, and he just doesn’t have the energy for any of it anymore.
"Yeah," he breathes after a moment, but makes no move to move. He cannot, for fear that he should fall if he tried.
Castiel's hands are as ecstasy to his heated flesh as they slide like cool water across his shoulder blades and over the muscles of his arms, pinpricks of strength siphoning through into his weary body as Castiel presses himself up close, chest to back, his arms stretching out to reach Dean's grasping hands; his fingers gentle and encouraging as they pull Dean’s own free from their death-grip of the entranceway.
"Come," Castiel's breath touches at his ear and Dean sighs back a moan, his head rolling to Castiel's shoulder as his fingers come free and the angel hugs their arms against his chest.
“Where?” Dean whispers, because even through he cannot remember the outcome, cannot recall being taken from the fight till he’d woken up alone and confused in a stone room in the desert with no one and nothing around to tell him just what the hell was going on, despite it all, Dean know that they’ve lost. He knows that they’re hiding. He knows that sooner or later whatever Castiel hopes to achieve by this, it will all be in vain as the hoards of Darkness set out in search for him.
A kiss to his neck and the thoughts flitter away from him. He is only half aware that he is being walked back to a makeshift bed of stone and stray, his body lowered and overcome with the fatigue again.
“Cas?” He whispers, a frown marring his brow as he stares up at the angel with confusion clouding his mind.
“Rest,” Castiel commands, stroking his fingers against Dean’s forehead, and watching his eyes flutter and close. “Rest,” he repeats, looking away and praying for deliverance.
Re: For Deliverance | Dean, Castiel
From:Re: For Deliverance | Dean, Castiel
From:Re: For Deliverance | Dean, Castiel
From:Re: For Deliverance | Dean, Castiel
From:no subject
Date: 2009-03-23 10:09 am (UTC)(Hee, it's not that I can't think of my own... this pic is so appropriate)
no subject
Date: 2009-03-23 12:37 pm (UTC)Sam juggled the cups of coffee as he closed the motel room door quietly behind him. He’d asked for them to be double cupped so they’d stay warmer for longer, giving him a little extra time, just in case he needed it.
The cups safely on the table, Sam crossed to the bed where Dean was still sleeping, and stripped his shirt off and crawled up under the sheet. He trailed a path of small kisses from Dean’s ankle to his knee, and then along his thigh. Not enough to wake him completely, but enough to wake his cock. By the time Sam reached his goal, Dean was hard, his hips shifting against the mattress.
Sam swallowed Dean’s cock to the root, relaxing his throat so he didn’t choke. One hand wrapped around the base, the other caressing Dean’s hip, nails dragging against the warm skin causing Dean to shift each time.
His cheeks hollowed as he pulled back, tongue flicking against the underside of the head, across the slit. Dean arched under him, his hand coming to rest against Sam’s face, thumb stroking across his cheek as the fingers thread into Sam’s hair. Each movement Sam made causing Dean’s fingers to flex against his scalp, to tangle in his hair.
Sam released his grip on the base of Dean’s cock and began to fondle his sack, fingers teasing the soft skin leading to Dean’s entrance. The timing of the strokes and caresses encouraging Dean to thrust, first against Sam’s mouth, then back against his fingers.
Dean’s breathing became more laboured, the closer he got to orgasm. Sliding a finger into his mouth next to Dean’s cock, Sam increased the speed of his strokes. Reaching down, he thrust the spit-slicked finger into Dean at the same time he took him into the back of his throat and swallowed around the head.
Dean came with a groan, his fingers tightening even more in Sam’s hair, his whole body convulsing. Sam swallowed, catching every drop, before licking Dean clean and crawling up to kiss him good morning.
“I brought you coffee too.”
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2009-03-23 10:17 am (UTC)SPN, Sam/Dean, Scripps Pier (character death warning)
Date: 2009-03-23 05:09 pm (UTC)There slightest shift of the wind. “Hello, Sam,” he said softly, not turning around.
“Dean.” The voice was the same, the one he’d heard in various tones ranging from love to hatred, adoration to aggravation. “Have you made a decision yet?” Arms, achingly familiar, snaked around him, holding him close. “Join me, Dean.” Dean shuddered, Sam’s breath warm against his neck.
“You know I can’t.” He continued to stare straight ahead; watching the waves. At least they had stayed the same.
“If you don’t...” Sam didn’t come right out and make his threat. Dean liked to think that, despite what Sam had become, it was just something he couldn’t do.
“I know. And I still love you, little brother.”
There was a kiss, gentle and loving, to his temple and then a coldness as Sam retreated, taking the necessary steps backwards. A burning pain followed. And then nothing.
Re: SPN, Sam/Dean, Scripps Pier (character death warning)
From:Re: SPN, Sam/Dean, Scripps Pier (character death warning)
From:Re: SPN, Sam/Dean, Scripps Pier (character death warning)
From:Re: SPN, Sam/Dean, Scripps Pier (character death warning)
From:no subject
Date: 2009-03-23 10:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-24 06:46 pm (UTC)Every teenager has a faze when he's trying to figure out what style is and if it's worth the bother to have your own. Dean being sixteen years olf discovered hair gel and started appreciating ripped jeans. All in all he was just priming his bad-boy look practiced since early childhood. Sam was much more problematic. Like always.
He craved normalcy as if it was an exotic luxury he never got to enjoy. He tried to fit so badly that all kinds of teenagers' fashions were just another way to achieve that goal. Most of the times it just backfired at him and the results were pretty poor, but occasionally the kid got some points for trying. And lots of jokes and pranks from his brother.
When Sammy from his saved money bought himself shoes covered with colorful signs, Dean couldn't pass the occasion. He took the red marked and somewhere between the skull and light-green word 'peace', he wrote in capital letters: BITCH.
Sometimes tough Dean's pranks backfired at him, especially when he forgot his baby brother is growing up. Fast. So, as much as he prepared himself for Sammy's hissy fit, he was not prepared at all for pink, girly scrawl that added 'GREAT' before his prank 'BITCH' sign on Sammy's shoe. And Sam had the nerve to just smile at him proudly and silently.
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2009-03-23 10:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-23 10:53 am (UTC)A hand shook his shoulder, and he grumbled, flailing out to try and stop the disturbance.
"Jensen, come on!"
"Fuck off," Jensen mumbled, snuggling deeper under his blanket, pressing his face into his pillow.
"I'm not going to stop until you come with me. You can go right back to sleep, I promise."
Jensen growled and shoved the blanket away, kicking it petulantly to the end of the bed. Jared look entirely too awake, and excited. Jensen glared at him, but Jared just bounced back, grin lighting up his face.
"Come on!"
Jensen followed him out of the bedroom, onto the balcony and shivered, it was freezing out there, the sea wind whipping straight through his clothes.
"What is it?"
"Look," Jared whispered, pointing up. He sidled up behind Jensen and Jensen leaned back into his warmth gratefully. High above them a rainbow stretched across the sky, disappearing into the water far out beyond their vision.
Jensen forgot most of his anger; the sight, and Jared’s body behind him enough to make him smile, and he snuggled back, dragging Jared’s arms around him. Jared chuckled quietly and leaned down to nuzzled Jensen’s cheek, moaning quietly when Jensen turned his head to capture his mouth.
“Why don’t we go back inside?” Jensen mumbled against Jared’s mouth, flicking his tongue over his bottom lip, enticingly.
Jared groaned a laugh and nodded, walking backwards awkwardly. “I guess there’s a better sight in there than the beauty of nature.”
♥
(no subject)
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From:no subject
Date: 2009-03-23 10:26 am (UTC)Primeval, Nick/Connor, library
Date: 2009-03-23 01:02 pm (UTC)"Do you think they're going to make us pay for that?" Connor asks, looking unhappily at the ruined bookshelves on the left side of the room. "That probably costs more than my rent – for a year – doesn't it?"
"Probably," Nick agrees. He raises his hand to wipe a glob of slime from Connor's cheek. "But we just saved the entire city from giant, man-eating bugs. They might be persuaded to be a little lenient."
He smiles fondly as he tries to imagine what the librarians would have done to him as a student if he'd caused anywhere near this much damage, but then Connor laughs and rests his head against Nick's slimy shoulder. He's lost his hat somewhere in the fight; Nick thinks that it might have actually been eaten, and he has to restrain a shudder. Since losing Stephen, he can't fight the fear of losing another of the team.
"No late fees, then?" Connor asks, and together they begin to walk towards the exit.
Nick grins and slings his arm around Connor's shoulders, holding onto him now. "If there are," he decides, "we can get Jenny to pay them."
And, god, he can just imagine the earful he'll get about the bad publicity this has caused the arc, but he doesn't have to care about that now: all he cares about is getting him and Connor home, soon, and into a very warm bath.
Re: Primeval, Nick/Connor, library
From:no subject
Date: 2009-03-23 11:06 am (UTC)modern day au
Date: 2009-03-24 01:06 am (UTC)Apparently, his duties as the Prince's personal assistant includes rubbing sunblock over his back and chest, fetching him drinks, watching him try on sunglasses, new swim trunks, and new sandles. It's just slightly ridiculous, but some of it he doesn't mind. Especially when Arthur models some truly...well. They're tiny tiny shorts. Very tiny. And. Arthur is not.
Luckily, he doesn't buy any, but Merlin has some very nice fantasies in the shower that night.
The next day, Arthur takes them - and his entourage - to a private stretch of beach. He has a personal bartender and loads of food in a few coolers in the boat they drove out here in. Merlin rubs Arthur down with lotion and Arthur takes it from him. "Your turn," he says.
"Um," Merlin says. Then Arthur pushes him down onto his towel and there's broad, warm hands all over him and Merlin fights not to get hard. It's a futile battle, but Arthur lets him lay there after he's done.
They actually have a nice day at the beach together, playing in the water, talking about Arthur's embarrassing hookups, eating and drinking and just generally having fun. As the sun starts to go down, they go quiet and Arthur smiles over at Merlin.
"Are you done complaining about me dragging you here, Merlin?"
Merlin rolls his eyes. "I suppose it wasn't so bad."
"Want it to be even better?" Arthur asks, and before Merlin can realize how utterly cheesy that line is, Arthur is kissing him. It's soft and gentle and maybe even hesitant, but Merlin goes with it and kisses him back.
It's great, really. Even when they shag on the beach and sand ends up in awkward places and Merlin almost bites Arthur's lip bloody when he comes, it's amazing.
When they have to go back to England, Merlin's worried that Arthur will go back to his old ways and sleep with every willing girl in London, despite him sucking his claims into Merlin's neck and whispering mine, mine with every thrust, but Merlin's the one Arthur brings back to bed every night.
Merlin couldn't be happier.
Re: modern day au
From:Re: modern day au
From:no subject
Date: 2009-03-23 11:06 am (UTC)It's Not Pollen, House/Wilson, fluff
Date: 2009-03-23 03:32 pm (UTC)House frowned at him over coffee in the cafeteria. "What's wrong with you today? You're making the idea of stealing a bite of that danish look very unappetizing."
"Clearly that's my evil plan. Muahaha -- achoo! Or maybe it's my grass allergy acting up, but, you know, that could just be crazy talk."
"Grass allergy?"
"House, how long have you known me? This is not a new thing. I've had hay fever since I was a cub scout."
"You were never a cub scout. And you turning into a walking biohazard zone is not a new thing, but --" House reached over and pushed open the nearest window, letting in a cold draft and drawing murderous looks from everyone in the vicinity -- "it happening in the middle of January, now, that's a medical mystery."
"There is still pollen in the winter. It's just hiding. And plotting. And then there's one nice weekend and it allll comes out to try to make me use up my sick days."
"Maybe. Or maybe you're sick for some other, more sinister reason.... Wilson! Did you get a cat?"
Wilson sighed and rested his forehead on his palm. "Why would I get a cat, House?"
"Maybe you have a new girlfriend, and she has a cat."
"And that would be sinister why?, exactly?"
"Because you didn't tell me. Duh."
"Oh, of course, how could I forget? Your life is just meaningless without receiving every detail of my personal life in a non-stop Twitter feed."
"Tweet tweet?"
"Oh for God's sake. Here. Happy birthday. I had to wait in line for three hours in the snow to get them, so if you have any more commentary, I hope you don't mind keeping it to yourself."
Wilson slapped something down on the table and strode off in the direction of his office, leaving House momentarily confused until he picked up the tickets.
BB King at Madison Square Garden, orchestra seats.
Now the only question was, how to find the most annoying way possible to make Wilson agree to be his date.
Re: It's Not Pollen, House/Wilson, fluff
From:Re: It's Not Pollen, House/Wilson, fluff
From:Re: It's Not Pollen, House/Wilson, fluff
From:no subject
Date: 2009-03-23 11:08 am (UTC)canon character death
Date: 2009-03-23 01:28 pm (UTC)*
“I’ll race you to the swing by the shore,” Will yelled out, and, before the words were completely out of his mouth he was running.
Merlin let out a yell of annoyance before following after, his longer legs helping him to gain back the advantage.
“Last one there has to help Old Ma Edlyn mend her fence,” Merlin called out as he passed his friend by. Will let out a burst of speed and they darted through the trees, narrowly avoiding accidents again and again.
Then, just as suddenly, Will stopped, and Merlin found himself frozen as well. Will was staring at him. Just staring straight ahead, blankly.
“Will? What’s wrong?” He took a step forwards and Will collapsed onto him, keeling forwards as though pushed over.
Merlin catches him, but he can’t hold on.
He wakes up screaming.
*
The swing by the shore had been a constant in their lives, ever since Will’s father had rigged it up with a piece of old wood and rope when they were tiny. They had used to fit side by side on the seat and Will’s father, a giant of a man to two small boys, had pushed them as they had screamed to go higher.
Merlin remembers jumping off one day to see if he could fly. He remembers Will’s concerned cries and the gasp of his father in alarm.
He had not flown, but he had not crashed. He was lucky, Will’s dad told him and he had never pushed them as high again.
Soon they had grown and they hadn’t been able to sit side by side. But they were allowed to go down there alone. Merlin had been so excited he had used his magic to push himself up higher than he had gone before. He hadn’t seen Will standing nearby.
Explanations had been stammered out but there had been no shocked cry or recriminations. They had continued going to the swing and Merlin had pushed them both.
Then swinging had become a children’s game and they had started to play at being men. So they would sit, or lie across the seat and pretend that it was the wind that was making it sway to and fro rather than the gentle pushing of their feet. Days ebbed out in conversation and things had seemed steady, like they would always be that way.
Then Will’s father died. Will ran off through the trees, and Merlin’s mother had stopped her son from chasing after him.
They had not gone there together anymore after that. It had always been one or the other. Until Merlin had caught Will sneaking off after dark and had followed him, edging his way through the underbrush.
Will had just sat on the swing and stared out across the water and Merlin had only meant to stand a watch, silent protection – from what he wasn’t sure.
But he had been drawn forward, step by step, until he had been standing at his friend’s back.
“This can’t be everything,” Will said, and Merlin started. He had not know Will knew he was there.
“Why not?”
“Because… what’s it all for?” Merlin had no answer for that., so he had just lifted one hand up to his friend’s shoulder and gently squeezed.
*
“You’ll never catch me…” Will called out over his shoulder, and Merlin was drawn into the chase, jumping over fallen tree branches and skidding down steeper banks of mud. Will’s laughter echoed through the trees and Merlin could make out his friend’s back between the trunks. No matter how fast he ran, he could not catch up, until they reached the swing by the shore.
Will was sitting on it, swaying backwards and forwards and watching him intently. But he did not fall this time, just watched Merlin approach.As the final feet dwindled to nothing, Will moved over and gestured for him to sit.
There was room enough for them to fit side by side.
“I guess I was right…” Will said quietly. “This can’t be everything.” Merlin opened his mouth to reply, but Will leaned forward and pressed his lips lightly against Merlin’s own. By the time he had remembered what he was going to say, Merlin was alone on the swing. There was no room for another person.
He pushed himself back and forth and, when he got to the highest point, he let go and wondered what it would be like to fly.
He woke up smiling.
Re: canon character death
From:Re: canon character death
From:no subject
Date: 2009-03-23 11:10 am (UTC)i have no idea if this was an actual spn episode - only in S. 2
Date: 2009-03-23 10:06 pm (UTC)"That's what Dad's notebook says, yeah." Dean shut the thing and it gave a dusty thunk against the table.
"So you dance yourself, literally, to death?"
"Get exhausted, can't stop to eat, sleep-- it's a nasty way to die."
Sam frowned. "Perverting something that should be fun. So it's like this?"
Dean looked up. "Like what?" But it was too late.
With an instinct born of mischievous childhood games, Sam had grabbed Dean by the waist and started spinning him around the room. "Whooops! I can't stop myself! I can't stop myself!" he shouted as Dean cursed and struggled.
"Sam, I'm gonna throw up," Dean protested after several revolutions.
"Sorry! I'm cursed!" Sam laughed.
"I'm gonna give you a curse..." In one last-ditch attempt to escape, Dean struggles forward to put Sam in a hold, but he only ends up pressed against him, muscle to muscle and skin to skin, as Sam holds his arms at bay.
And then Dean's body responds in a way Sam can most definitely feel.
"What's that about?" Sam asks, but his voice breaks around the smile he tries to summon.
"I can't stop myself," Dean mutters, leaning forward again.
Re: i have no idea if this was an actual spn episode - only in S. 2
From:Re: i have no idea if this was an actual spn episode - only in S. 2
From:no subject
Date: 2009-03-23 11:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-26 07:51 pm (UTC)She took her helmet off and looked around, it was so dark, she could barely make out House´s body as he searched through the saddlebag and pulled something out of it.
“Where are we?” she asked almost insecurely. Their relationship was so new and although she knew House and his perks, she still wasn´t used to the “softer” side of him.
“A guy told me about this place a few days ago,” he replied and spread the folded blanket on the frosted ground. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her down on the blanket, setting her back against his chest and wrapped another blanket around them.
She leaned into him with a content smile, looking into the darkness and nothingness; “So what are we doing here?”
“Patience” he chuckled and ran his scruffy cheeks along her neck. She shivered as his lips followed his stubbles and tilted her head to give him better access.
All of a sudden he stopped, she opened her eyes and the most beautiful sight was before her. A river of colors silently moved over the sky, changing rapidly and moving with the elegance of a dancer.
“It´s beautiful,” she dared to whisper.
“Yes, it is,” he replied equally quiet and she felt as he tugged her closer and wrapped the blanket better around them to keep the warmth in as the show went on.
no subject
Date: 2009-03-23 11:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-23 12:05 pm (UTC)His puppy dog eyes made it almost impossible to say no.
"You can't have a lollipop, Sammy. I only have enough money to buy some milk and bread."
When his younger brother even started sobbing Dean have had enough. He grabed Sam's hand and dragged him to the checkout.
"Stop crying. You're five. You're not a baby anymore."
Big boys didn't cry. Dean hadn't since he's 5 years old himself and he's proud of it. Dad didn't like it when Dean behaved like a baby. So Dean was sure it wasn't any different with Sammy.
The cashier - a young brunette woman - gave them a warm and friendly smile.
While Dean payed for the groceries Sammy tugged at his jacket.
"Can I have a lollipop? Please Dean."
Sammy looked at the older boy with irresisteble eyes.
Dean stopped breathing for a short moment.
Man, he was so screwed.
Also was the cashier.
When Dean opened the mouth to say "no" again, she took out two lollipops and gave them to Sammy.
"I-Ic can't pay for them."
"Ah, don't worry Sweeti. You don't have to. They're a gift. You two are the sweetest thing I've ever seen. That's paying enough."
She explained with a smile on her face.
After the boys left the store, Sammy started to lick at one of the lollipops - a yellow one- and held the other one - a red one- in front of Dean.
"That's yours."
(no subject)
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Date: 2009-03-23 11:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-23 02:57 pm (UTC)They're sitting in a motel room, finally finding time to rest, which Dean hasn't done in what feels like a year. They're watching (or at least Dean's watching) an old b-movie, The Brain That Wouldn't Die. Dean's laughing so hard, he's pretty sure he'll fall of the couch soon, but Castiel's just sitting there. One eyebrow's quirked in a quiet surprise and he says: "Is this supposed to be funny?"
"Dude, it's hilarious! How can you not laugh at that?"
Castiel looks away from the movie and looks over at Dean who smiles at him before returning to the movie, where the monster has just ripped off the assistant's arm, which causes Dean to giggle like a schoolgirl.
"Oh my God, they don't make movies like this anymore," he gasps while trying to breathe before another wave of laughter hits him. It surprises him when his laugh is joined by a second voice.
When he looks at Castiel he can see the angel's eyes wrinkled in the corners and he hears his soft laughter, like this is a foreign thing he's just discovered. Probably is.
"Told you it was funny," Dean says and grins, although if he had been paying attention he would have wondered how Castiel could laugh at the movie, when his eyes has remained fixated on Dean for the last five minutes.
Castiel will never understand the humor in b-movies, but the beauty of Dean's laughter he can understand.
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Date: 2009-03-23 11:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-23 11:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-07 10:04 pm (UTC)Mulder laughed. "I doubt it. This was a classic abduction scenario--"
"...brought on by too many screwdrivers and a very high Well-Manicured Man." He licked at the edge of his spoon just in time to catch a dangerously poised drip. "Good choice of meeting place, by the way."
"I'm meeting Scully here in half an hour. Chocolate is important on a regular basis, and this kind... Mmm. Particularly delicious." Mulder's eyes closed, and he let out a moan as he took a bite of his mousse. "Anyway. You're saying the Consortium got drunk--"
"And high!"
"--and pulled off a fake abduction when they could have just asked some actual aliens to do some actual abducting?" He shook his spoon at Krycek, smirking as some dark splotches flew off and landed on the other man's meticulously pressed white shirt. "That makes no sense."
Krycek shrugged. "There was a king once who died from laughing too much. Do you know why?"
"He saw your face."
Krycek rolled his eyes and continued as though he had never been interrupted. "He got his donkey drunk one day and watched it trying to eat figs."
Mulder squinted across the table at the other man. "Are you telling me you're the smoking man's ass? I thought you didn't like figs."
He rolled his eyes again. "I don't like figs, and you know I'm nobody's ass."
"Except mine."
"Except yours," Krycek agreed easily. "However, your ass currently belongs to a PMS-ing woman who is fairly likely to shoot me on sight, so I will be leaving now. Take some of this home tonight - I'm pretty sure you'll be delicious in war paint."
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Date: 2009-03-23 11:25 am (UTC)I Understand, Friday the 13th/My Bloody Valentine, Clay/Tom, bloody love
Date: 2009-05-03 11:20 pm (UTC)Tom Harding had watched through it all, then when it was over, he’d followed him. The lived in a small city. Nothing too fancy but an easy place to lose yourself in if you needed to. Once Tom was settled in he found his way into the man’s life. Easy enough, a fellow college student. They saw each other on campus. Clay, he found out easily enough his name in the woods, his sister and friends screaming it too often and too loud to be ignored, would smile sometimes at him. Other days he seemed dark and heavy. Like the world was too much to take.
Tom understood that. Tom understood better than most what a mask could do to you. He wanted to share it with Clay. He sat beside him on the open grass between classes on one of the heavy days. “Hey.”
Clay looked up, more annoyance than anything else in his eyes and it didn’t faze Tom at all. “Bad day?” He asked.
“Stupid teachers.” Clay said.
Tom just nodded. That night, he followed Clay’s professor home. Clay was special though and it wasn’t Valentine’s Day. He deserved better than imitation hearts and imitation love. He deserved to be laid on a bed of roses and adored, worshipped for who he was, for the strength and beauty that he was.
The next day the news on campus was buzzing with the brutality of the professor’s death. When Tom asked Clay to let him show him something, the man came, unsteady but still trusting.
When he opened the box Clay gasped. He reached inside, pulled out the single red rose dripping in blood. His eyes turned to Clay. “Did you?”
“He was hurting you and I couldn’t let that happen. I wanted to share this with you, wanted to tell you but I was waiting for the right time…” When Tom brought out the mask he smiled softly. The miner’s mask was like comfort and home. “This is mine.” He held out the other one, and this was the real clencher. Had he read Clay wrong? Was he going to mess all of this up this time? “I think this belongs to you.”
Clay dropped the rose and it landed on the floor with a trail of blood splatter that would have fascinated Tom at any other time. He looked on hopefully as Clay took the hockey mask from his hands.
“How did you?”
“I saw.”
Clay didn’t ask why he hadn’t helped. He didn’t ask how he got it. He didn’t ask about the deaths. He asked only one thing. “You… you understand.”
Tom picked up the rose, pressed it to Clay’s hands with a smile that was warmth and affection and possession too strong to control. Clay’s eyes widened as the thorns pressed in but he didn’t make a noise. When Tom pulled it free he let it drop again, bringing Clay’s hand to his mouth. He licked at the tiny cuts, licked the blood from his rose and from the tiny thorn pricks until there was nothing left. He was almost disappointed until he looked up, saw the way Clay bit into his lip. Saw the way he collected the blood on the tip of his tongue and leaned down in offering.
He sucked the blood from his tongue, bit and sucked at his lip until it bled plenty and let Clay bit into his own tongue until there was enough to satisfy them both. When he pulled back, heart beating wild and eyes the same, Clay smiled at him, pulled him closer by the scruff of the neck and laughed into his mouth.
“Yeah. I understand.”
Re: I Understand, Friday the 13th/My Bloody Valentine, Clay/Tom, bloody love
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Date: 2009-03-23 11:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-07 09:47 pm (UTC)A hand flaps aimlessly in my direction. "Gerroff."
"Get up."
"Issa Saturday. G'way."
I sigh. "It's not just any old Saturday, Scully! It's the 10th anniversary reunion of Max--"
"Yeah, yeah," she interrupts impatiently. "Some alien thing you're obsessed about that no normal people cares about."
"Why, Dr Scully, I do believe your grammar is suffering the Saturday Slump! Do you know how to fix that?" A snore is my only answer.
Three minutes later, I come back in the room to find her stretched out on her back, covers over her head.
"Get up!"
"Mmhrmf."
"I got something for you."
She reached up, grabbed the edge of the blanket, and lowered it to just below her eyes. "Wassat?"
"Coffee." I stick it out just under her nose. As she reaches for it, I pull it out of reach. "It'll be waiting for you in the kitchen."
"Damn you," she mutters, sitting up and following me out of the bedroom, eyes closed, guided by the scent of the morning brew.
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Date: 2009-03-23 11:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-23 12:31 pm (UTC)Because it would be.
It felt like the fairytale he’d always imagined: the end of the war, angels and demons back where they belonged, the world safe and full of hope. Most people would never even know what had happened, much of the war held in private, only the strange news reports to say anything had happened at all.
But here they were, Dean driving, Sam slouched in the passenger seat, music blaring, and Sam knew that it was the only place he’d ever wanted to be.
With Dean, the road endless before them.
♥
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