Monday: Clichés
May. 16th, 2011 02:52 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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rockerbaby423 and I'll be your host this week!To start us off, the theme is clichés. For those of you that are unfamiliar with them, clichés are trite or overused expressions and phrases. Today it's time to reclaim some of the originality and breathe new life into old clichés!
Have fun and remember to follow the rules:
- Three prompts per fandom, and no more than five total. If one of your prompts is filled, you may post another.
- No spoilers for new shows/seasons until at least one week after airing.
- If your fill contains spoilers, please warn for it and leave enough space for people to pass by.
- Feel free to fill a prompt even if it is already filled, the more fic the merrier!
Feed the overworked codemonkeys correctly formatted prompts (and not overly long, don't write the story for them, inspire them):
- Leverage, Parker + Team, so hungry I could eat a horse
- Leverage, Team, a bit like closing the barn door after the horse escapes
- Vampire Diaries, Damon/Elena, finders keepers losers weepers
Nothing grab your interest? Our Lonely Prompts need love too!
(tag=cliches)
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no subject
Date: 2011-05-16 06:52 am (UTC)Famished
Date: 2011-10-04 06:11 am (UTC)“No!” Parker leaps up and covers Eliot’s ears. “Don’t say that in front of him!”
He twists and slaps her hands out of the way. “What the hell, Parker?!”
“I was trying to save you!” she exclaims.
“From what?!”
She looks at him with the most horrified expression he’s ever seen on her face. “Hardison said he could eat a horse,” she says seriously. “And you like horses.”
“Parker…” He fumbles for words for a minute before he gives up. “Never mind. Thanks. But I’ve eaten horseflesh, and believe me, it’s nothin’ special.”
“Ew,” she says, wrinkling her nose, “Why would you actually eat a horse? They’re scary.”
no subject
Date: 2011-05-16 06:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-16 06:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-16 06:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-17 09:18 am (UTC)He'd cleaned out his spare bedroom for any frightening debris Mary had left and had gone shopping for food for a small girl. He was planning on moving Danny in as soon as the hospital released him and finally saying everything he had been trying not to since he met him.
But then Rachel had come back and smiled and announced her imminent divorce and Steve had smiled and destroyed his spare room and then locked it all up and threw away the key.
So he watched Danny get happy, watched him see Grace every day and tried to be happy for him. But it's hard to grieve for something that you never really had in the first place, because their friendship barely changed, bar a slightly lower level of day to day aggravation in Danny.
Steve could never quite let it go, never completely remove the faint spike of hope in his gut whenever Danny came into work grumpy and it never got easier not to hate Rachel, to hate her for being the one Danny wanted, for waltzing back into his life and having Danny's complete attention.
Steve never got happy, he caught Wo Fat and chased the Yakuza almost entirely out of Oahu and solved more high profile crimes that one can poke a stick at. But at home, at night, he touched himself with Danny in his mind, imagining his big blunt hands on him and Danny saying words that he knew he would never hear in the daylight.
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-05-16 06:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-16 07:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-16 07:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-16 07:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-16 07:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-16 07:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-16 05:29 pm (UTC)Steve's there, Steve gets it. He can tell what a suspect's limits are, and he doesn't hesitate to break them. He knows immediately what he's feeling when Danny goes into his arms, big hug after admitting that he's back with his ex, and there's no way in hell he's gonna let that situation sit.
So when the dust settles, Steve calls Danny into his office and draws the shades. Danny eyes him warily, and Steve stands a pace away from him and says, "I think you're making a mistake with Rachel."
Danny's features contort into a squint-scowl. "What? Why?"
And Steve leans over, slides a hand over Danny's cheek, and kisses him. Soft, brief, tender.
"That's why," he says.
Danny gets mad. Danny points at him, says, "That, that is a low blow, Stephen, that is not cool, that is not fair. You can't -- you can't do that to me, not now, not after everything."
Steve's impassive, watching him rant, watching him even get choked up, shaking his head, walking out of the office, saying he's taking a few days off, leaving Chin and Kono staring in the direction of Steve's office door, bewildered.
There's going to be pain now, there's going to be loss, but Steve can take it. Enduring suffering is one of those things he's been trained to do.
But for just a moment, just a fraction of a second, Danny had returned his kiss. Had sighed into it and opened his lips to feel more warmth.
And so Steve will wait. He'll wait for it to run its course and he'll wait for Danny to make a decision. But he doesn't think it's unfair. He's never cared much for other people's rules.
And all's fair in love and war.
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-05-16 07:27 am (UTC)Crazy in Love (NC-17)
Date: 2011-05-16 06:37 pm (UTC)"Bad mojo, Sammy-boy. Real bad mojo." Gabriel runs a hand over his face and stops in front of Sam, hauling him up from the chair he'd been occupying and smothering his face with a kiss. It is frantic, tongues clashing, Gabriel's mouth deep and wet like he is going to eat Sam alive. "Got caught in a spell," Gabriel mutters against Sam's mouth. "Gonna have to fuck you now."
Sam sputters, torn between confusion and concern, but Gabriel's already snapped off their clothes and he's edged Sam to the foot of the bed so that he has little choice but to topple backwards. Gabriel covers Sam's body with his own, already erect cock dragging hotly against Sam's stomach. "Gabriel," Sam manages between desperate kisses, "what the hell is going on?"
"Spell makes you... crazy," Gabriel answers, biting down on the soft flesh of Sam's shoulder. He laves the bite mark, then snaps his fingers and magicks up a bottle of lube. "Crazy with desire." One finger is inside Sam before he can blink, and Sam arches his back as a second quickly follows. "Need to be inside you," Gabriel gasps, slathering his cock and making needy noises, and Sam cants his hips, pulling Gabriel forward.
"Do it," he orders, and then Gabriel slides home and there's that sweet slow burn of friction, muscle against muscle. Gabriel bears down, brushing Sam's prostate, and Sam can do little more than hang on as Gabriel rides him, pounding deeper and harder. He palms his cock but Gabriel takes over, jacking Sam ruthlessly in time to his own strokes, and in little time at all they're both falling over the edge, howling their releases together.
Gabriel falls forward, panting heavily. "I think," he says carefully, "we may need to do that again just for safety's sake."
Sam chuckles.
*
The next morning, Dean and Castiel are already having pancakes (Dean) and coffee (untouched by Castiel) when Sam and Gabriel slide into the booth. As Sam studies his menu, Castiel asks, with a touch of concern, "I hope you are not feeling any ill effects from the spell, brother."
"Wha' spell?" Dean says around a mouthful of pancake. Beside Sam, Gabriel goes still.
"Gabriel stumbled into a spell leftover from that witch that you destroyed," Castiel explains patiently. "It makes the recipient unable to be apart from the one that he loves."
Sam stares at the menu intently. Dean asks casually, "By 'be apart' you mean jump their bones?" At Castiel's blush, Dean grins. "So Gabriel, you do the one-handed mambo last night? Everyone knows you love yourself best of all."
"Shut up Dean," Sam says. He looks at Gabriel, opens his mouth, and asks carefully, "Want some chocolate chip pancakes?"
"Yes," Gabriel says intently. "Yes, I do."
Gabriel's thigh presses firmly against Sam's under the table, and Sam smiles.
Re: Crazy in Love (NC-17)
From:Re: Crazy in Love (NC-17)
From:Re: Crazy in Love (NC-17)
From:Re: Crazy in Love (NC-17)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-05-16 07:35 am (UTC)[1/2]
Date: 2011-05-17 08:31 am (UTC)--------------------------------------------
The lights in the auditorium were dim when Finn walked in. By the time his eyes had adjusted, he spotted Rachel at the edge of the stage, as if she was looking out at an invisible audience. He had to admit she looked like she belonged there; he knew that she often came here to sing by herself, even if the glee club didn’t have any solos that she needed to rehearse.
Rachel turned at the sound of his footsteps, smiling brightly. It was the kind of smile that made him forget for a moment, sometimes, that she wasn’t his anymore, made his stomach swoop until he told it no. Not that it usually listened.
“I got your note,” he said, even though that much was obvious since he was, y’know, there. Rachel nodded, looking up at him since he had gotten closer. “So what’s the emergency?”
“The other night I was doing vocal warm-ups while watching the Discovery Channel,” she said. “Howler monkeys, you know, they’re so pure and primal, it really opens up your throat—”
“Uh…”
“Anyway, the man was saying something about how a monkey community is only as strong as their weakest member. Naturally, that got me thinking about the glee club.”
“I’m sorry…did you just call me a monkey?”
Rachel smiled, gently laying a hand on Finn’s arm. He watched her warily. Why did he agree to meet her here alone? Again? There was clearly something broken in his brain, something labeled Rachel Berry resister that at this point was beyond repair.
“Finn,” she said, “Mr. Schue has made it clear that he chooses to treat your inability to dance without being a danger to yourself and those around you as a joke. But if we’re going to win Nationals, we need to be as perfect as possible, not laughed off the stage. So. If you’re New Directions’ weakest link, then I’ll just have to make you stronger.”
The words were spoken in that brisk, matter-of-fact way of speaking that Rachel had, as if what she said was the simple truth and in no way insulting. And, well, it kind of was, but that didn’t mean that Finn wasn’t allowed to be offended. Just a little. He shrugged a shoulder, allowing Rachel’s hand to drop away.
“And how are you going to do that? Nationals are in, like, a week and a half.” Even if Rachel could help him—which Finn kind of seriously doubted—there wasn’t nearly enough time to make a noticeable difference. “Besides,” he added, as a thought occurred to him, “Mike Chang can’t sing. Are you gonna teach him, too?”
Rachel made an impatient face. “Mike doesn’t have to sing, Finn. Everyone has to dance. Now, come on.” She held out an upturned hand and Finn stared at it, not sure what she wanted from him. “Take my hand.”
[2/2]
From:Re: [2/2]
From:no subject
Date: 2011-05-16 07:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-16 07:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-16 07:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-16 07:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-16 07:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-16 07:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-16 07:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-16 11:09 pm (UTC)Then.
He couldn't define it then.
He wishes he couldn't define it now.
Sometimes it seems as if he's loved Steve his entire life. In reality, it's only been about ten years, and Steve hasn't even known about it that long. He thought that in the years he'd known Steve he'd learned everything there was to know about him. Now he wonders if he ever really knew him at all.
If only he hadn't knocked the damn jewelry box off the dresser...
Steve has a wooden jewelry box with a secret compartment. Christian knows it has a secret compartment because he had it made for Steve eight years ago. It's a beautiful thing -- dark wood, intricate carving.... Steve used the compartment to stash weed until he stopped smoking -- at least that's what Christian had thought.
Steve is at a Supernatural convention in Italy, and most of his jewelry is with him, but he left the box and forgot to lock it. The box took a tumble when Christian tripped on the rug and banged his hip against the dresser, and he's currently sitting on the floor trying not to throw up.
Not much, Steve had replied. I have a lot of time to kill. Mostly, I think of you.
Chris stares at the items on the floor. He doesn't touch them, because on some level he's still hoping they're a figment of his imagination. In the tiny corner of his mind that's still resisting shock, he vaguely wonders how he's ever going to look Steve in the eye again.
On the floor is a collection of driver's licenses, each with a lock of braided hair clipped to it. The hair is all dark, nothing lighter than a dark brown. The photos on the licenses all resemble each other -- men in their thirties, long dark hair, blue eyes, high cheekbones, five feet eight to six feet in height. Christian is too stunned to count, but there have to be at least a dozen. Christian remembers seeing news reports about a few of them when the police found their bodies.
I have a lot of time to kill. Mostly, I think of you.
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-05-16 08:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-16 09:42 am (UTC)Fill
Date: 2011-05-16 10:00 pm (UTC)“Pete!” she shouted in surprise, reaching for him.
“Myka!” He stopped at the edge of the doorway of the small shack where he could feel the tug of the artifact but wasn’t caught in its grip. He watched as she came to a halt in the middle of the room, pressed flat against the floor.
“Where is it?” Myka asked breathlessly. She braced her hands against the ground and tried to push up but couldn’t get higher than a foot off the ground.
“I don’t know. Can you see it from where you are?”
“No. “ Myka felt the scrape of rock under her palms, the sting confirming the influence of the artifact over the hardwood floor she could see that she was pressed against. Whatever was holding her down was harder to identify, but it was hard and definitely fulfilled the second half of the artifact’s cliché. She was definitely caught between a rock and a hard place.
“It has to be nearby,” Pete said, mostly to himself.
“Hurry,” Myka encouraged as what was pressed against her back moved in closer.
Pete was halfway around the shack when he spotted what he was looking for. Sitting on the inside on the windowsill was a large rock with a metal bar poking through the middle. “Found it!” he shouted in at her.
“Hurry,” she requested, voice strained.
“I am.” He tried to figure out how he was going to get at the rock. He couldn’t go through the room or he’d end up next to Myka. Opening the window meant risking the influence of the rock doing the same to him outside.
“Peeeete.”
“I’m hurrying,” he shouted, heart in his throat as it was every time her voice took on that tone. He could see her through the window and even her hair looked flattened. “I’m trying to figure out how to neutralize it without it pulling me in.”
“It only works in this room,” Myka pointed out, voice both breathless and annoyed. “Smash the damn window and throw the bag over it.”
Pete didn’t waste time cursing himself for not realizing that himself. Elbow protected by his jacket, his smashed his arm through the window. The tug against his arm was extreme, but with most of his body outside, the rock couldn’t take hold. It took only a second more to fling the silver bag over the Artifact.
He flinched away at the sudden release of pressure that made his ears pop.
“Myka?”
“I’m okay.” He took a moment to watch her start to push herself up before taking the now bagged Artifact and rushing back around to the door.
She was sitting on her knees in the middle of the room when he walked in. He could see a scrape on her cheek from where she’d been pressed and dragged across the rocky floor.
He stood above her and offered a hand. She gave him a grateful smile even as he pulled her to her feet, feeling wobbly after the intense pressure that had nearly crushed her. “Thanks.”
“What else are partners for?” he asked with an easy shrug the belayed the relief he felt. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he led her back to the car. “I’ll tell you one thing for sure, I’ll never think of 'stuck between a rock and a hard place' the same way again.”
Myka, who swore she could feel the phantom weight against her, could only nod in complete agreement.
End.
no subject
Date: 2011-05-16 09:44 am (UTC)Never expected this
Date: 2011-05-16 05:44 pm (UTC)He struggled to get up, get away, not ready to die, definitely not wanting to die like this when a grenade was thrown, landing right on the Wraith as he exploded with a burst of sticky gore. All of a sudden, David rushed them, firing the P-90 and looking like Rambo or something. Evan looked up at him as the crowd scattered.
"Are you ok?" David asked, glancing at the pillory and then into Evan's eyes.
"I'm fine... I'm fine now. Thank you."
Evan stayed still as David picked the lock. "You're welcome... I'm glad you're ok. So very glad," David said to him.
Evan hugged him, feeling a weak relief. "My hero."
no subject
Date: 2011-05-16 10:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-16 10:26 am (UTC)