Friday - Free-For-All
May. 13th, 2011 08:51 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
monica-catch22.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
comment_ficHey, everyone! It's the weekend so of course you know what this means... Free for all! No prompts, just what your hearts desire.
Please remember to follow the rules:
* No more than five prompts in a row
* No more than three prompts from one fandom
*No spoilers until at least a week after publication/air-date
*If your prompt is filled you may post another one
Please also follow the posting format, for the sake of our code monkeys:
Hawaii Five-0, Steve/Danny/Kono, surfing lessons and why two teachers aren't better than one
Doctor Who/Leverage, Author's Choice, the Doctor finds out there's another Time Lord... Nathan Ford.
Have at it!
Please remember to follow the rules:
* No more than five prompts in a row
* No more than three prompts from one fandom
*No spoilers until at least a week after publication/air-date
*If your prompt is filled you may post another one
Please also follow the posting format, for the sake of our code monkeys:
Hawaii Five-0, Steve/Danny/Kono, surfing lessons and why two teachers aren't better than one
Doctor Who/Leverage, Author's Choice, the Doctor finds out there's another Time Lord... Nathan Ford.
Have at it!
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-05-13 12:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-13 12:55 pm (UTC)Wooo, Fill! : Thieves in the Night
Date: 2011-06-28 01:23 am (UTC)It’s not very often someone steals something before the Doctor can get to it first. Actually, it’s never happened before so as he stands in the Boston Museum staring at the empty column that’s supposed to display the largest Crown of Light diamond (not a real Crown of Light if he’s got the history right - which he does) he wonders what it was he overlooked this time.
“I should have known it was you.”
The Doctor spun around and like a tidal wave it hit him, the awareness and knowledge of whom exactly it was standing at the other end of the room.
“Alpha.”
Alpha inclined his head, a calculating look on his face as he stared into the Doctor’s eyes. The Doctor hadn’t seen the older Timelord in centuries nor had he heard anything about him. He’d assumed Alpha had died before the War or in it.
“You survived. How?”
“Same way I assumed the Master did,” Alpha replied, leaning comfortably against the doorframe. “Chameleon Arc. Torchwood was a bitch in the early days an I couldn’t get back to my TARDIS so I had to hide myself.”
“Why steal the diamond?”
The Doctor knew Alpha well enough to know that he didn’t do anything for the hell of it. Though he was all about masterminding elaborate plans to accomplish a goal, there always had to be a good enough reason.
“What, this?” From his jacked pocked Alpha withdrew the Crown of Light and held it in the palm of his hand. “Its my girl.”
The Doctor frowned. There was probably another Torchwood story to that but it made no sense. He hadn’t come intending to steal (another) TARDIS.
“You thought it was a Quorral,” Alpha summarized.
Quorrals were a swarm of tiny flesh eating bugs that hibernated together in the disguise of precious stones. After a few centuries they would wake and begin devouring everything until their hunger was satisfied. The Doctor always made sure that any swarm that found its way to Earth was removed.
“I took care of that last week,” Alpha added.
Alpha smirked at him, straightened and he looked just about ready to leave except he paused. A pained expression crossed his face and he removed something from his ear. “What you did, Doctor. Was it necessary?”
The Doctor didn’t know if he was talking about the Time War or the Master. He figured it was a little bit of both. “I wish it hadn’t been.”
Alpha nodded sadly, “I figured.”
He turned to leave, “Oh, one last thing Doctor. The name’s Nathan Ford now.”
“And what does Nathan Ford do?” The Doctor asked intrigued.
“What I’ve always done.”
no subject
Date: 2011-05-13 01:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-13 01:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-13 01:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-13 01:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-14 03:49 am (UTC)They didn't talk a lot, or at least not a lot about anything of real consequence, continuances of the driving stories they had shared before the others left, favourite cars, favourite horrible cars, thoughts on the car they were lying on, there was a little bit of a theme running through their topics.
Dom looked tan and buff, slippery with sweat brought on by a sun they were to comfortable to move out of.
They settled close together after the collected their last beers, spread out over the scalding metal of the bonnet. Their sweat slick arms slid against each other and even through their lethargy Brian could feel his dick beginning to swell in this pants and see the answering swell beneath Dom's.
They were drunk on heat and drink and a strange sense of the abstract and it did not seem odd at all for Dom to cup Brian's erection and open his pants.
Dom's dick is as solid as he is, slick with sweat and smelling of musk as Brian holds it lightly in his hand.
It is an incredibly slow orgasm, sleepy roll of their hips against a barely gripping hand. The warmth in their guts barely discernible from the heat of their skins. They did not come like volcanoes or explosions or any other of those terrible metaphors, it simply sliped from them, a sigh of release into the afternoon calm.
They laid there, come cooling on their fingers and their groins, until the sun dipped below the L.A. skyline and their warm, sleepy, afternoon was ended.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-05-13 01:20 pm (UTC)I was thinking of a son - Glee/Thor, PG
Date: 2011-10-17 02:29 am (UTC)(in this 'verse. Takes place during 2.3 of Glee)
Kurt does not pray. He sits in the chair next to Dad’s bed, and he holds Dad’s hand, and he closes his eyes, turning inward to grasp the tiny little flame at his core, and he calls, Mama?
Kurt! Mama replies, the flame shooting upwards and spreading out, filling his entire body with warmth. Some of it goes into Dad, through their joined hands, making him stronger. Oh, Kurt, Mama says. “Child, when is the last time you slept?” Kurt doesn’t flinch from the fingers suddenly on the crown of his head. He keeps his eyes closed.
“I’m here now,” Mama says, sounding like the Mama in his memory, the Mama in his dreams – not the villain on the evening news. The Mama Dad loved. “Rest, love,” Mama whispers, fingers trailing down Kurt’s cheek. “Your father will be fine, I swear it.”
Kurt is exhausted. He’s weary, and he hurts. So he sighs, rests his head on the blanket next to Dad, and listens to his mother hum a lullaby from his childhood. The little flame dances in time with the tune, and Mama will make everything better.
That afternoon, Kurt himself has been awake for only three hours when Dad finally stirs. Mama is gone, of course. Kurt stands back far enough to let the nurses and doctor do what they must, but close enough to see Dad, to hear Dad, to feel Dad, and he smiles, diving into the little flame, shouting, He’s awake, he’s awake, thank you, I love you!
Mama sends him a hug and a smile and, I’ll see you tonight for a lesson, godling.
Kurt will do anything Mama asks, because Dad’s awake and knows who they both are and anything Mama wants could never be wrong.
no subject
Date: 2011-05-13 01:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-13 01:20 pm (UTC)fill (drabble)
Date: 2014-12-03 01:53 pm (UTC)He was wrong.
Impromptu dances in the town square have not prepared them for the intricate patterns of court dances.
"I'm dying," he gasps, dropping down as soon as the dancing master leaves.
Next to him, Rapunzel groans piteously. "Do I still have my feet?"
With a supreme effort, Eugene indulges her and cranes his neck enough to glance down her legs. "Yup. What about mine?"
Rapunzel is amazing, because she manages to rub his calf with her toes. "Right there."
"Must we dance at our wedding?"
Rapunzel sighs. "Perhaps not."
Re: fill (drabble)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-05-13 01:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-13 01:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-13 01:51 pm (UTC)fill (drabble)
Date: 2014-12-03 10:52 pm (UTC)You are happy, he means.
The most happy, indeed.
At last, she is his wife, the mother of the future king. She doesn't need soothsayers or the stars to tell her that the life growing inside her will be a great monarch. Her mother's intuition is enough.
If this be a dream, she never wants to come to her senses.
Re: fill (drabble)
From:Re: fill (drabble)
From:Re: fill (drabble)
From:Re: fill (drabble)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-05-13 01:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-13 01:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-13 01:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-15 05:29 pm (UTC)When he caught himself liking it, he reasoned that he wouldn't live much longer. (Not in this line of work.) He wouldn't be the one left to pick up the pieces.
Mal's whole life, he never planned on outliving people.
One stray bullet. That's all it took.
Mal takes over care for River. Getting a trained doctor with a shiny degree is the top of his to-do list in every port. He hugs Kaylee and waits for her to stop crying; he drinks with Zoe and Jayne and waits for either of them to break the silence first.
But those are all outward ways of coping.
He goes into Simon's old bunk, sometimes, and just lies on the bed. He used to hate spending the night here - the bed in his own bunk is more comfortable - but they never got around to moving into the same bed full-time. They never made it that official.
So Mal lies there and stares at the ceiling and curses his own excuses. He shouldn't be the one doing this. He never wanted to outlive anyone.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-05-13 01:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-13 02:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-13 02:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-13 02:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-13 02:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-13 02:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-13 02:12 pm (UTC)Fill: "Always Right"
Date: 2014-12-07 10:53 pm (UTC)Cameron had heard the whispers all his life. He knew something was wrong; he was sick all the time, but no one believed him. Even Ferris didn't, and Ferris was his best friend.
"You're fine, Cam, it's psychosematic."
"I'm sick. I have a fever."
Ferris rasperried, and ran outside into the sun, leaving Cameron in his bedroom. It was up to him to follow or not, and most times, he did.
High school was worse, all those kids, and none of them his friend. They all loved Ferris, even though Cameron was the only one who knew him. Ferris had comic strips drawn about him, that filled whole pages in the school newspaper. Sometimes, Cameron would get slapped on the shoulder and thanked for his work on those strips. He wasn't sure why.
"Hey, buddy," Ferris said, "you work hard, you deserve a day off." He'd smile that particular smile that Cameron just couldn't say no to, and off they'd go, on some crazy adventure.
The last one involved his dad's car. The Ferrari GT California. Ferris wanted to take it into the city, and Cameron could only say 'no' so many times. The problem was, after they brought it back, well, the odometer showed just how many miles they put on the car. Ferris had the brilliant idea of putting the car up on jacks and running it in reverse - but the jacks fell and the car crashed into the ravine below the house.
Cameron remembered his dad's reaction, how he screamed, how he yelled. He even slapped Cameron. It was the only time his dad ever even seemeed to realize he was alive.
Funny, Ferris didn't come around too much after that. He didn't even show up in the school newspapers. Cameron wondered about his friend for a while, but he had other things to worry about - like the military school his dad decided to send him to.
It was a some years later, after some therapy sessions, and some time getting drink, and more time sobering up, that Cameron wound up writing some stories about a high school student who was so incredibly cool, everyone loved him. He had a gorgeous girlfriend, and a sickly best friend. What surprised Cameron was how they wound up on the YA best sellers list, and how fast they were optioned for movies. While he was closing up his signing at a book store one day, a pretty woman approached, her hair streaked slightly with silver. She smiled at him, and asked, "Cameron...do you remember me?"
He stared up at her in shock, because who could forget Sloane? "Of course I do."
"I really enjoyed your books. But I loved all the stuff you wrote about Ferris back in high school. Those comic strips were so funny!"
Comic strips? Cameron didn't remember writing comic strips, but he nodded politely. "I'm glad you like my books." He glanced behind her, searching for Ferris, but not seeing him. "Did Ferris read them, too?"
Sloane blinked at him, her pretty face turning somewhat ugly. "What?"
"Well, you and Ferris...I'd heard you'd gotten married. Or he was planning on proposing. That was the last I heard from him."
Her forehead wrinkled and she took a step back. "I...I think you've mistaken me for someone else."
"No. Sloane Peterson. I know you - you and Ferris, you were something back in school."
She shook her head slowly and continued backing away. "No. I'm sorry." Sloane spun on her heel, darting through the rest of the store, disappearing from sight.
Cameron stared after her. Maybe he'd gotten it wrong. But he could've sworn -
"Hey, buddy, don't worry about it. There are a thousand other girls out there like Sloane, and you know I could have any of them. You just keep doing what you're doing, and you'll be fine."
Cameron nodded, smiling. Ferris was right. Ferris was always right.
Re: Fill: "Always Right"
From:Re: Fill: "Always Right"
From:Re: Fill: "Always Right"
From:Re: Fill: "Always Right"
From:Re: Fill: "Always Right"
From:Re: Fill: "Always Right"
From:Re: Fill: "Always Right"
From:no subject
Date: 2011-05-13 02:12 pm (UTC)Fill
Date: 2014-12-03 11:43 pm (UTC)----
"See?" Jesse laughed, and the sound was the only familiar thing in the graveyard. "Didn't I tell you? It's great, man! can't you feel it?"
All Xander felt was the pain of the last moments of his life, and he hesitatingly put a hand to his neck and winced before he touched what he knew should be a great wound - he'd seen the blood run out of him - but... there was nothing. No pain. Not even a twinge.
"Come on!" Jesse prompted, giving him a hand and hauling him to his feet. "Time to get out of here, lazypants. We can't stick around forever." He glanced over his shoulder, and Xander recognized the look. Jesse was nervous. "I arranged for some friends to distract the Slayer and her boy toy, but she'll be making her way here soon. She likes you, man. She's been hounding me like mad ever since I.... well, since the last time I saw you."
When you killed me, Xander fills in, but he doesn't feel any rancor at the memory.
He never got to ask Angel how he could claim to be a different person, only because of a soul.
Now he thinks he gets it. He does not feel like the schoolboy he'd been a week before.
Two months ago, before he lost his best buddy and gained an impossible blond crush, he would have railed at Jesse for as little as running into him with his skateboard. He would have meant it, too, and Jesse would have rolled his eyes and exchanged a knowing look with Willow while Xander raved on. Then Xander would have finished his rant with a punch against his friend's shoulder, and all would have been forgiven.
Now....
There's no forgiveness, but there's no anger either.
There's only hunger.
"All right," Xander says, craning his neck from side to side, an old habit to drive off the stiffness of a long sleep. He glances down at himself, wincing at his outfit. Only his mother would bury her only son in his old suit. "Wanna go visit my folks first?"
Re: Fill
From:Re: Fill
From:Re: Fill
From:Re: Fill
From:Re: Fill
From:Re: Fill
From:Re: Fill
From:Re: Fill
From:Re: Fill
From:Re: Fill
From:Re: Fill
From:no subject
Date: 2011-05-13 02:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-13 02:20 pm (UTC)