Alternate History
May. 11th, 2011 06:19 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
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Today's theme is going to be 'alternate history'. Ever wonder what it would be like if your favorite character's world was not quite the one they are used to? It could be something simple- from just one decision made differently in their own world that changed the course of their lives or it could be something on a wider scale.
Use today's prompts to put your favorite characters in an altered timeline- either personal or more global.
To make it easy on our hardworking code monkeys, please format your posts like so:
Castle, Castle/Beckett, Inspector Rick Castle meets a plucky female reporter, Kate Beckett, who seems to be one step ahead of him on this investigation
or
Firefly, Mal/Zoe, the Alliance lost
or
Fringe, William Bell, the dog did hunt
Use today's prompts to put your favorite characters in an altered timeline- either personal or more global.
To make it easy on our hardworking code monkeys, please format your posts like so:
Castle, Castle/Beckett, Inspector Rick Castle meets a plucky female reporter, Kate Beckett, who seems to be one step ahead of him on this investigation
or
Firefly, Mal/Zoe, the Alliance lost
or
Fringe, William Bell, the dog did hunt
no subject
Date: 2011-05-11 10:55 am (UTC)Riding in Cars With Boys Part 1
Date: 2011-05-13 11:27 am (UTC)But the longer Oz looked the more used Xander got to it, he didn't even introduce himself until nearly six weeks after he started watching Xander, and by that point Xander had gone past freaked out, through uncomfortable and into flattered.
They did a few things together, movies and games, and Xander could almost convince himself that Oz was just a friend. Then Oz kissed him and he freaked out a little bit. Well more than a little bit, he didn't hit Oz or anything but he backed up and away and Oz just sat there watching him with a placid face.
He felt really bad about it later, because no matter what he told himself, he had known what he and Oz were doing, they were no friendly outings, they were dates. And despite his fears Xander had really liked them, Oz was funny and, something Xander was still dealing with, pretty cute.
Oz backed off after that failed first kiss, and so it was Xander who started the second one, leaning over the gear stick in Oz's van, his hand shaking a little against Oz's face. Oz kissed back softly so as not to scare him again, and it was odd, feeling Oz's stubble against his face, but not bad.
It took a while to do a few things with Oz, to get over the idea of wanting to kiss a boy, to kiss him (which took a lot longer), to tell Buffy and Willow (one of the most uncomfortable conversations of his life, after which Willow joined PFLAG), and to get over the idea that Oz had a dick and that he, Xander, wanted to touch it.
Oz's van was the best thing in the world for a horny teenage boy, neither of them having the luxury of an empty house. They'd started out kissing in the front seat, Xander leaning over the gear stick to press Oz back into the door, Oz pulling him in as he leaned forward, meeting in empty space, but the one that changed it all was when Oz, obviously getting frustrated by the lack of touch, had climbed over to the passenger side and straddled Xander's lap, knees resting on either side of him as he pressed close. That was when Xander felt it for the first time, someone else's hard dick, Oz's was pressed up against his belly, hard through his jeans and it sent a sort of sick heat through his gut.
Xander didn't touch him that time, or the time after, or the time after that, nor did they move out of the cramped front seat into the open space of the back of the van. That was because Xander knew, and he knew Oz knew, that moving to the back of the van was as much a statement of intention as sticking his hand down Oz's pants.
Riding in Cars With Boys Part 2
From:Re: Riding in Cars With Boys Part 2
From:Re: Riding in Cars With Boys Part 2
From:Re: Riding in Cars With Boys Part 2
From:no subject
Date: 2011-05-11 10:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-29 06:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-11 10:56 am (UTC)The Death & Life of Dr. Owen Harper - Jack/Owen, PG
Date: 2011-05-30 12:03 am (UTC)It's all the things trampled beneath those great, big elephant feet that bother.
He can hardly accuse Jack of not caring about him - bringing him back from the dead for a bloody code. Owen could rail at Jack's explanation, and rightly so, cept for the elephant quashing his anger. A man doesn't brave a building full of Weevils, alone, for a key code. Jack's daring (desperate) attempt to save Owen from the nothingness he now knows death is had to have been for more than that.
Owen can't cling quite too tightly to his mantle of odd man out either. Gone are the days he can sneer at a kind word from Tosh to escape the frightening kindness her words evoke inside him - flattened by the memory of her tears over his dying form. Equally dead are the days of deriding Ianto just for the fun (the offensive strategy) of it. You can't pretend not to care about a group of people once you've seen the lot mourning over your impending demise, celebrating your sudden resurrection. He can't pretend, now Jack's seen it in his eyes, felt it in the waning strength of his grasp, Owen's hand in Jack's. 'Don't let me go.' His throat had been too full of blood for those to be his last words, but Owen'd thought them at Jack as loudly as he could, all the same.
“What now?” he asks Jack, on a quiet night after the shine of not being dead has worn off mostly.
“Now… You just keep living.”
Somehow Owen had expected more from someone with such experience not staying dead.
“How do I-”
“Like before. Except now we don’t ignore it when either of us wants to do this,” Jack says, and with no further warning, grabs Owen by his shirtfront and pulls him into the wettest, deepest, hottest kiss Owen’s ever had the pleasure.
“A- Alright, then.”
Owen can live with that.
Re: The Death & Life of Dr. Owen Harper - Jack/Owen, PG
From:no subject
Date: 2011-05-11 10:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-11 10:59 am (UTC)Compromise, PG-13, Dexter, Dexter/Lumen, she stays with him
Date: 2011-05-11 08:33 pm (UTC)Lumen was his candle in the window, guiding him home after his urges were dealt with - cleanly, carefully, with all due discretion and sacred reliance on the evidence needed to allow himself action. She did not go with Dexter anymore, but she loved him. She remembered the need to be the thing out in the dark with claws and dark inclinations. She believed his methods were just in their own way.
Winkingly, Lumen called his nights out by vague phrases from sitcoms; boy's night, bowling, sowing wild oats. She watched the kids and tucked them in with promises to send their father in to say goodnight. She sat up with Harrison in her lap, expertly holding his bottle for him as he dropped off to sleep and she read a novel.
Dexter had never been able to get close to the victims of his collars. He found out names, dug up graves, printed pictures, but could never truly know their stories. Some were gone and some of them survived as walking wounded. They were fearful and angry, helpless but for his intervention. He imagined they might sob in gratitude or sleep peacefully if they could know their abuser was dead. He couldn't tell them without risking his family but he could imagine he was doing good.
Lumen gave him the full view of his work. She had been right about regaining her freedom. Her personal demons died like any other man. They snarled as they did it, but then they left her to be free. He was honoured to have been a part of her release. It was an unutterable gift to have a woman know him and love him anyway.
His boat shoes squeaked on the tiles of the hallway, giving notice for him. Lumen was already on her feet, cradling an ever-growing boy across both arms. She grinned down at her charge and nodded toward Harrison's bedroom. Dexter no longer had to shift from executioner to father in a snap. Lumen got the kids to bed, he made a quick visit to each bedside, and they lapsed into the healing silence of a solid couple.
She didn't think it was odd to be hungry after butchering a human being, and didn't feel any need to hear gruesome details of his work. Dexter could talk about sports and she didn't fault him for his callousness. Lumen didn't mistake his conversation for a way to feel normal.
He had always known she was too good for what they did together, too human to take joy in sectioning up a corpse for garbage bags. Her face was often serious, but her concentration was for her college courses and his children. She had visited work with him and the laboratory fascinated her. It was a way to use what she'd been, outside the dark thrill that no longer possessed her.
There were moments during a kill when Dexter found himself glancing for blue eyes no longer on him - wanting the company in a lonely choice. They were talking marriage so Lumen could adopt the kids. His life as Dexter Morgan, single father, needed her as a helpmate more than his Dark Passenger did. The regret was brief and misguided.
He had loved Rita and would uphold her memory for the children, but he loved Lumen in a way that didn't need to be shut in a lockbox while he followed his calling. If they had continued killing together she might have ended up like his previous partner, or even like his brother. Few people could sustain the standards that kept their killings rational and measured. Lumen had been a temporary monster, like a cursed princess.
He smiled genuinely as she came back, pressing into his arms to greet him. With her, he could still be the monster while living as a man.
Re: Compromise, PG-13, Dexter, Dexter/Lumen, she stays with him
From:no subject
Date: 2011-05-11 11:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-11 11:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-11 11:22 am (UTC)OMG, someone write this please!
Any Detective Worth His Salt, PG-13, Castle, Castle/Beckett, Inspector Rick Castle, Reporter Beckett
Date: 2011-05-11 06:38 pm (UTC)"Your girlfriend's here to visit, Ricky-Tiki-Tavi," Esposito murmured, nudging past Rick into the apartment.
The two detectives were stuck in the hallway until the officer on scene and the coroner cleared out of the tiny space. It was one of those hideously cramped bachelor apartments, all-in-one aside from the bathroom.
Rick had been a cop for thirteen years, his shiny polish of glassy-eyed rookie scuffed down by a thousand lies a week. The crooks were snakes and he was a mongoose, hence his nickname.
He was particularly frustrated to be seeing yet another dead girl in another crappy apartment, signs of ritual murder showing a superficial similarity to at least four other cases. He thought it was a serial working out his method; trying knives, strangulation, anything that was quiet enough not to bother the neighbours.
He had notified Captain Montgomery and handed over a report - extra paperwork, for the love of all that was holy - putting together the scraps of clues that seemed to make sense when laid out side by side. He wasn't FBI, and profiling was a specific science barely touched in the academy. He didn't have a certificate on his wall to say he knew what he was doing. Captain wanted to support him, but said there wasn't enough to make any conclusion.
Rick's report had been sent along to a sympathetic FBI agent for an assessment, but that could be a long time. Everyone was overworked in law enforcement in Manhattan. He understood the realities. It was on Rick to continue dragging his tired ass and red eyes to crime scenes. His reply was a bit sharp as a result.
"I believe you have some canvassing to do," he barked, clutching his deli coffee like a talisman. "I'll go chase off our spy."
He ambled over to the tall, smiling brunette, watching unhappily as her notepad tipped down and she scribbled something. This reporter, Kate something, had shown up at the second of these murders. She could find a few of the details he had noted for suspicious similarities. She was faster than most of the department. He still couldn't talk to her about it.
"Kate," he greeted coolly, "Hope this isn't your building. It's a deathtrap."
She smiled, white teeth between silky lips poised to talk his ear off. He hadn't chased her off that first day, instead deeming her too feminine to be a threat to his investigation. She didn't get in the door, but he let her loiter out in the hallway to overhear what she could. He had seen a little digital camera in her pocket, but she hadn't taken photos of the deceased as the sheeted body was rolled out. Rick respected fair play. He could also see the opportunity for a hot minute with a pretty woman who wanted to speak to him.
Re: Any Detective Worth His Salt, PG-13, Castle, Castle/Beckett, Inspector Rick Castle, Reporter Bec
From:no subject
Date: 2011-05-11 12:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-11 12:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-11 12:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-11 12:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-12 05:27 am (UTC)When the Doctor first met Sally in the middle of the street in London, he was a bit amused by this young woman who was so outrageously pleased to see him. He held on to the papers she gave him, but didn't honestly expect to allow himself to get stuck in 69. He had a TARDIS, he'd be fine.
But he didn't read the papers, just in case. He didn't want to accidentally change things.
When he did get stuck in 69, and she had all the details so neatly outlined, he was impressed. All he really had to do was follow the instructions and build the detector. Brilliant!
Though technically she could only have gotten all this down because, from her point of view, it had already happened. But still, quite marvelous. He had to admire her determination. Not many people could walk right into a 'haunted' house after two people had died and risk death herself on the instructions of a madman she'd never met. He was rather tempted to pay her another visit to see if she'd like to travel with them.
But she had her man, now. He'd seen the two of them that first day, when she went to hold his hand and he was so very surprised. They would be happier without his interference.
It wasn't until after the Master, after Martha and Jack left and he found himself alone, that he went back to Sally Sparrow.
He'd found someone trying to raise Macra in the sewers, and he needed backup. Sally seemed surprised that he'd shown up at all, but she went easily enough. The two of them made short work of the problem, and before he'd even decided to do it he found himself asking her along.
She'd said no, like he'd expected she would. She had a life, someone who loved her. She'd invited him round for tea, and he refused and carried on. But a few months later he was at her door again, with another bit of strange alien activity, and then six months after that.
It became habit for the both of them-he satisfied Sally's drive for adventure, and the Doctor was just happy to be working with someone who neither fancied him nor expected him to have all the answers.
Eventually, several years down the road, he started asking her to go on short trips with him. Just to solve specific problems, or to go on brief holidays. She'd always be home within a day or two, and as years went by, Larry and her children grew accustomed to her vanishing now and again.
Larry stood by with a smile, welcoming her home every time. He'd had plenty of time to see how restless she could get without this, and he almost looked forward to the exhausted, contented reunions.
Until one day, when she was much older and her hair was starting to go gray, and she didn't come back. One lucky shot and Sally Sparrow was gone forever. The Doctor felt guilty for taking her away from her family, but even as he mourned, Larry knew it was exactly how she would have wanted to go.
no subject
Date: 2011-05-11 12:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-11 12:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-11 12:14 pm (UTC)of every coin (but which shines brighter?) - Dean/Sam + Dean/Cas, PG-13
Date: 2011-05-30 12:47 am (UTC)He knows it's not entirely rational. He knows it isn't really Castiel's fault. He knows he isn't helping anything - Cas has told him that; Sam's told him.
Dean knows he's lucky. That they're lucky. It could have been some dick who got shackled with the job of pulling Dean out of Hell, piecing him back together, and following him around afterwards. Someone who wouldn't care how hard this is. No matter how much Cas has done for them, no matter how much Cas tries to ease the strain- No matter that this was Sam's choice; Castiel asked Sam for permission, and Sam said yes...
No matter what, it hurts to look at Cas and see Sam's face.
It hurts to want Sam's touch- Or Cas's... Both; fuck, Dean doesn't even know anymore - and not even be able to ask for it. Cause Cas is an angel, right? He'd be disgusted. He already knows about it... About Dean and Sam; he can see all of Sam's memories, knows all of Sam's thoughts. He isn't completely gone when he gives Sam the reigns for a little while. He knows what Dean and Sam talk about wanting but can't bring themself to do. It would be too- It would be too much.
Sometimes all of it seems like too much.
Dean lies, most nights, in his bed in an empty motel room - dreading and craving the sound of angel wings - dreaming of Sam, of Cas; laying his hand over the brand on his shoulder, Cas's mark in the perfect shape of Sam's hand.
He thinks about vessels and hates himself for wishing Cas gone, just so Sam wouldn't be one. He thinks about what he had with Sam, and hates himself for almost dreading the day he gets his Sam back. Because it will mean that Cas is gone for good.
He thinks about love and thinks he's a girl because he can't just accept things as they are and let them be. He's in love with two people - one angel, one man.
And they both wear the same face.
Re: of every coin (but which shines brighter?) - Dean/Sam + Dean/Cas, PG-13
From:no subject
Date: 2011-05-11 12:18 pm (UTC)may write more of this, but I have to go to a party right now :D
Date: 2011-06-05 10:59 pm (UTC)"Who's there?" he asked hesitantly.
"Please, I need a doctor," the person, no, the woman said. "I'm in labor!"
His eyes widened, and he pulled open the door. The revolver pointed squarely at his face was held by a woman with curly hair, who was definitely NOT pregnant."Hello, sweetie," she drawled, and he cursed floridly.
"That pregnant line always works on you doctors," she murmured. "Though I do need a doctor," she said, getting to her feet with a groan. Her left hand was pressed to her side, wet with blood. "Inside," she growled, gesturing with the gun.
"You're River Song, aren't you?" the doctor asked, as he backed into the room. "Is that what your mother named you?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" she murmured, then winced. The doctor stepped forward to help her, and her gun was back in his face, unwavering. "Stay back."
"I won't be able to help you if you've got that gun in my face, or if I have to stay away for that matter," the doctor said. "You're bleeding near to death and you might have internal damage. Bandit or not, I'll be cross if you die right here in my siting room. So let me do my job, and then you can point that gun at me all you want."
River Song narrowed her eyes at him. "You talk a lot," she said finally, as she lowered the gun. He stepped forward, and she allowed him to put an arm around her waist and help her into his examination room.
"Cover the windows," she murmured. He quickly moved around the room, letting the curtains fall closed. When he turned back around, she had pulled off her jacket with some difficulty, and now was fumbling with the buttons on her vest.
"Let me do that," he said, using the scalpel to cut neatly through the buttons. At her disgruntled cry he replied matter-of-factly that "the vest is ruined anyway and time is of the essence."
"Lay back on the table," he told her. She laid down reluctantly, tucking her gun into it's holster on her hip. His hands went to pull up the hem of her shirt, and her hand was on her gun, her eyes dangerous.
"Don't you try anything," she growled.
"Trust me," he murmured quietly. "I'm a doctor." then he pulled her shirt up to just under her breasts and added, "besides, from what I hear you've got the fastest gun hand around. I wouldn't have time for any shenanigans." He examined her side, his fingers probing her wound heedless of the blood. "Lovely word, shenanigans," he murmured, almost to himself.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-05-11 12:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-11 12:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-11 12:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-11 12:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-11 12:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-11 01:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-11 01:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-11 01:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-11 01:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-11 01:15 pm (UTC)The Equestian Job - Leverage, Eliot, PG
Date: 2011-05-12 02:25 pm (UTC)He'd chalked it up to "Things That Aren't Fair In The World: #5,478" and gone on with his life. Become a retrieval specialist, mercenary, killer-for-hire, and finally a Robin Hood do-gooder with a group of other ex-bad guys.
Right up until the Equestrian Job. Trained show horses were expensive, and managing to smuggle them was worth a hell of a lot of cash. And when Alice, their trainer, and begged Leverage, Inc. to save her horses from their greedy owner exploiting them, they'd gone at it like any other job.
Until Eliot, masquerading as a stablehand, had watched the "horses" drink their drugged water without being affected, and had nearly trampled an oily hired gun that had tried to force himself on Alice before Eliot could even move. Until Eliot had watched Alice crying into the horses' shoulders, and them crowding around her. Until Eliot had gone to put a hand on Alice's shoulder to ask if she was all right, and saw, finally saw the star markings on the horses' foreheads were really only the tip of the iceberg.
Well, make that the base of the horn.
And if Nate later thought he was crazy for including the horses themselves in their own rescue plan, that was fine. Because he and Alice knew otherwise. That “special bond” he’d envied had every right to belong to women like Alice, virtuous, innocent, pure, and good. And Eliot would fight as fiercely as the unicorns to protect it.
Re: The Equestian Job - Leverage, Eliot, PG
From:Re: The Equestian Job - Leverage, Eliot, PG
From:The Secret Unicorn Club - Sort of original, G
From:Re: The Secret Unicorn Club - Sort of original, G
From:Re: The Secret Unicorn Club - Sort of original, G
From: