Hi, y'all, I am
tigriswolf and today is lies: little white lies, gigantic whoppers, lies for the good of someone else or to further one's own ends, canon lies or lies you wish someone had told...
Please don’t forget to remember following the rules!
+ No more than five prompts in a row
+ No more than three prompts from a fandom
+ No spoilers until a week after publication/air-date
+ If your prompt is filled then feel free to leave another.
Please use the following format to make things easier for our codemonkeys:
NCIS, Tony&author's choice (no Tiva), the best liar is he who makes the smallest amount of lying go the longest way
Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Xander&Angel, three words he said once
If none of today's prompts appeal to you, check out the Lonely Prompts.(Tag=lies)
no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 05:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 05:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 05:12 am (UTC)I have no explanation for this whatsoever...
Date: 2011-05-20 05:19 pm (UTC)It’s not just a matter of not telling the truth. Any fool with quick reflexes can make up a story on the spot and sell it to a crowd. The trick, the real crux of it, is to lace your tale with just enough truth to be believed, and enough fable to be remembered.
But that’s just one side of it, the hardest part, the bit that takes the most practice, is the sleight of hand, the magician’s misdirection. Start to say one thing, gesture or smile, finish with something else entirely and leave your companion thinking they got what they wanted all along.
Most people, despite protestations to the contrary, don’t actually want the truth. Most of them wouldn’t know what to do with unadulterated honesty.
“How old are you?”
“Five thousand years, give or take a century.”
“Do you love me?”
“Always and forever.”
Some lies though, some lies are easier to tell than others and sometimes, more often than you’d think really, the lie is the only kindness he can give.
Re: I have no explanation for this whatsoever...
From:Re: I have no explanation for this whatsoever...
From:no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 05:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 05:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 05:14 am (UTC)No fill but...
Date: 2011-04-11 08:35 am (UTC)Re: No fill but...
From:Re: No fill but...
From:NC-17, Dean/Uriel, noncon, rough, wallsex
Date: 2011-05-18 10:40 am (UTC)There are teeth on his neck, where Uriel is biting, and Dean thinks that he might have pushed him too far this time.
Clothes vanish under Uriel's hands as he lets go of Dean's arms, not that Dean can move, he's still held to the wall, stretched out as Uriel leaves clawmarks on his back.
There is no preparation before Uriel thrusts into him, and Dean didn't even think the angels could have sex, was expecting the violence but not this, and he shouts as it burns through him.
It hurts, Dean hurts, and Uriel is not gentle as he begins to thrust, and Dean thinks that he's going to kill the son of a bitch.
"You can't kill us," Uriel hisses into Dean's ear. "Not with human weapons, not with the weapons of demons."
In still thinking part of Dean's mind, he catalogues that for later, thinks that they still need to test Ruby's knife on angels.
Uriel leaves bitemarks in Dean's shoulder and pauses to kiss them, and Dean makes a noise when he feels something go numb, and then he realizes that Uriel is healing him, healing some of the damage he did to Dean when he thrusted in.
For a moment it feels good, even when Uriel begins to move again, and for a moment can delude himself into thinking it's not a bad way to go.
Uriel rakes his claws down Dean's arm and moves faster, harder - Dean knows what's coming, doesn't want to feel that but Uriel doesn't look like he'll pull out any time soon, and Dean closes his eyes as the rush of heat and wet floods him.
Uriel's hands are on his hips again, and Dean groans as Uriel pulls out.
He's sore, and he still hurts, even for what Uriel has healed.
Dean swears, but as he hears wings, he has to palm his crotch and swear again.
He can curse his body all he wants, but he can't deny that he's hard, he wants more touch, and he doesn't like being alone now.
Re: NC-17, Dean/Uriel, noncon, rough, wallsex
From:Re: NC-17, Dean/Uriel, noncon, rough, wallsex
From:no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 05:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 05:19 am (UTC)my intent is but to play - PG, AU for both history&mythology, a smidge of Coyote/Gabriel
Date: 2011-04-12 12:36 am (UTC)o0o
He doesn't Fall, not exactly. He leaves Heaven fully intact, still bathed in pain and rage, and turns his back on everything he was and is and the family that won't stop fighting—but God lets him go.
God lets him go as an angel.
But he can't be known as an angel, because God won't strike him down. God won't protect him, either. He knew that when he left.
(God let Sammael go, too, and now only Lucifer remains. Only Satan. Once beloved, once the greatest, and now...)
He cannot be Gabriel anymore. He knew that when he left, too.
o0o
Humans are glorious. He does not worship them, and he does not love them, and they are not his superiors, but they are fascinating creatures. He was the first to ever speak to them, and after leaving, he does deliver one last message for God.
Humans look at him with so much wonder, when they know what he is. He likes that expression. And he is still the best at blending in.
o0o
There is a god that lives in an almost untouched land. Gabriel spends time with him, wandering from ocean to ocean. Their humor matches up, and they prank each other daily.
“I know what you are,” Coyote tells him one night, curled up together beneath the moon.
Gabriel’s wings twitch, just out of sight. He doesn’t react beyond that, and, god or no, Coyote can’t have felt them.
“You are a pretty bird,” Coyote continues, “but we already have Raven. You’ll need a different name.” He nuzzles in, nosing against the junction between chin and neck. “You could be someone else’s Raven,” he says, nipping at Gabriel’s skin. “Across the ocean, they have no sense of humor. You could teach them.”
Gabriel breathes out, a noisy sigh. “What gave me away?” he asks, freeing his wings to wrap around them both.
Coyote laughs.
Three days later, Coyote’s howl ringing in the air around him, Gabriel crosses an ocean and goes to a frozen land where they have need of a trickster.
o0o
Gabriel is missing. Gabriel is dead.
He smirks up at a god who is nowhere near as intimidating as Lucifer, thinks, Coyote, boy were you right, and says, “Call me Loki.”
Re: my intent is but to play - PG, AU for both history&mythology, a smidge of Coyote/Gabriel
From:Re: my intent is but to play - PG, AU for both history&mythology, a smidge of Coyote/Gabriel
From:no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 05:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 05:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 05:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 05:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 05:24 am (UTC)query
Date: 2011-04-12 01:10 am (UTC)Re: query
From:If I killed one man, I've killed two - R, Arthur/Eames, non-con
From:Re: If I killed one man, I've killed two - R, Arthur/Eames, non-con
From:Re: If I killed one man, I've killed two - R, Arthur/Eames, non-con
From:Re: If I killed one man, I've killed two - R, Arthur/Eames, non-con
From:Re: If I killed one man, I've killed two - R, Arthur/Eames, non-con
From:Re: If I killed one man, I've killed two - R, Arthur/Eames, non-con
From:Re: If I killed one man, I've killed two - R, Arthur/Eames, non-con
From:Re: If I killed one man, I've killed two - R, Arthur/Eames, non-con
From:no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 05:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 05:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 05:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 05:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 05:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-20 01:52 am (UTC)Castiel wants to press a thumb against Dean's mouth to get him to stop talking, wants to card a hand through short hair and hold the other man close so that he can brush his nose against Dean's cheek as his mouth skates down to kiss the corner of Dean's mouth.
Castiel wants Dean to see him and understand him the way he naively believed angels effortlessly understood each other until Uriel chose treachery and Zachariah chose blasphemy. It used to frustrate him every time they met, that Dean could only see skin stretched over a skeletal structure and not the Grace beneath. Now, he's grateful for the easy duplicity because so much of him has become tattered by this war. He bears the mark of a kinslayer on his wings, ugly and heavy, the one sin Dean has never given in to. Still, each time he comes to Dean now, he finds all accord they once shared gone. There is only half-thrown accusations and ungainly conversation that leaves him feeling a cold burning no angel should experience.
Castiel still wants, though, and so he takes. At night, in dreams, he pulls Dean's psyche to prefabricated pockets of unreality, excising those lessons of social conventions that would make Dean hesitate to take what Castiel offers--hands and mouths and the limited connections flesh can make. He tried, once, to meet the whole Dean in such a place and was repulsed by the other man. Now, he cradles Dean's soul close, but anything that would make Dean hesitate to take Castiel's thumb into his mouth while his eyes promise other offers is softly blanketed until the man wakes from a night of dreams forgotten.
no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 05:30 am (UTC)Not filled (yet)
Date: 2011-04-11 09:45 am (UTC)Re: Not filled (yet)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 05:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 05:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 05:35 am (UTC)"My name is Sylar... and you are not my mother."
"But I am, dear. I am."
He knows she's not his biological mother but he goes along with the lie. Because he wants a reason to be better.
no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 05:37 am (UTC)"I hate you", just maybe if he keeps saying it, it'll finally be true and he can stop caring what happens to them.
no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 05:44 am (UTC)"I haven't felt guilt since the 11th century." He feels guilt, he just chooses not to dwell on it or it will drive him mad.
no subject
Date: 2011-05-20 04:24 pm (UTC)Methos likes to pretend sometimes, always and even with himself, that he doesn’t feel guilt anymore. Likes to pretend that he washed it away in some long dried up river with all the blood and shame and rage.
He still feels it, bone deep and sometimes in a place where he thinks his soul used to live, but he hasn’t survived longer than any other Immortal by wallowing.
Live, grow stronger, fight another day.
It’s not just a punch line, it’s the way he lives his life. He has to keep moving, keep living, keep forcing himself to bear down and forget, otherwise he’s just a man who’s lived too many centuries and committed too many sins, waiting for some bright young thing to come and steal his head.
Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod is the best man, and possibly the very best Immortal, Methos has known in all his years. Whether or not the Highlander has what it takes to play the Game through to the end remains to be seen, but Methos will do whatever he can, whatever it takes, to ensure his friend, his brother, lives to fight another day.
He owes the younger man that much. At least.