Friday: Free For All
Jul. 29th, 2011 12:05 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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comment_ficHappy weekend folks! Hopefully LJ is a little more cooperative today, but we apologize for the difficulties this week in the context of the DDoS attacks. Mostly our hosts and our mods could not get in, or if they could, were unable to post. Assuming LJ remains stable, regular service will resume. ♥
In any case... It's Friday! And that means it's Free For All. In fact, this whole weekend will be a special Free For All in an attempt to make up for things. All fandoms, pairings, and prompts are acceptable.
Just remember to follow the usual rules:
ø No more than 5 prompts in a row, no more than 3 prompts per fandom. If a prompt is answered, you may prompt again. (ETA: Sorry about that guys, I didn't mean to invert those numbers!)
ø No spoilers in your prompts until 1 week after the original air/publication date. If there's spoilers in your response, please warn in bold and leave at least 3 spaces.
ø Remember to format your prompts appropriately and keep them to a reasonable length. For example:
Are none of the prompts catching your attention? Feel free to poke at our Lonely Prompts.
In any case... It's Friday! And that means it's Free For All. In fact, this whole weekend will be a special Free For All in an attempt to make up for things. All fandoms, pairings, and prompts are acceptable.
Just remember to follow the usual rules:
ø No more than 5 prompts in a row, no more than 3 prompts per fandom. If a prompt is answered, you may prompt again. (ETA: Sorry about that guys, I didn't mean to invert those numbers!)
ø No spoilers in your prompts until 1 week after the original air/publication date. If there's spoilers in your response, please warn in bold and leave at least 3 spaces.
ø Remember to format your prompts appropriately and keep them to a reasonable length. For example:
Royal Pains, author's choice, that's not actually what that medication is for...And don't forget to show smaller fandoms some love!
Wanted/X-Men: First Class, Wesley/Charles, ...did you really just use the word groovy?
Are none of the prompts catching your attention? Feel free to poke at our Lonely Prompts.
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no subject
Date: 2011-07-29 05:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-29 05:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-29 05:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-29 05:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-29 05:49 am (UTC)First Guest (PG) 1/2
Date: 2011-11-13 08:00 pm (UTC)“Not the best welcome I’ve ever received, but definitely not the worst,” says Captain Jack Harkness as he pushes the door open completely and strides past Rory into the house.
“Yeah, sure, come on in,” mutters Rory, rolling his eyes, as he shuts the door and follows him.
Jack ends up in the kitchen, hands behind his back and surveying a row of mugs hanging on little pegs. Rory feels a bit uncomfortable about that, seeing how he and Amy haven’t been living here for even a whole day yet and haven’t had chance to see what’s here themselves. He doesn’t like the idea of Jack Harkness getting friendly with his mugs before he does.
“I showed up for your stag night, but you’d left by that point,” says Jack as Rory puts the kettle on and seats himself at the small table set to one side of the room.
“You weren’t invited.”
“Or to the wedding I noticed.”
Jack selects a blue mug with white polka dots on it and carefully takes it down from its peg, cradling it in one hand with three fingers through the handle. Rory imagines it purring it delight at being the object of the Captain’s affections.
“Well, you know,” says Rory. “My fiancé, my bride, kind of wanted to keep it that way.”
Not that Rory has any doubts about losing her to anyone anymore, and on that note Amy walks into the room, a book in one hand and a blue rubber duck in the other.
“I was exploring upstairs, but I heard voices,” she says, giving Jack a onceover before raising her eyebrows at Rory and tilting her head questioningly. “Friend of yours? I didn’t know you’d told anyone we were back yet.”
“More of an acquaintance,” says Jack, turning on the charm.
He puts the mug down on a countertop, next to the kettle, and comes over to kiss the back of Amy’s hand – the one still clutching the rubber duck and the one with her wedding ring.
“I haven’t seen Rory for some time now and I was just wandering where he’d gotten to.”
“Oh,” says Rory again and lets his head fall forward onto the table with a groan.
It hadn’t occurred to him that Torchwood would have been keeping that close an eye on him still after all this time, but then he didn’t really know them, just as people that dropped into his life from time to time to check he was still, well acting normal.
“Maybe this is a bad time,” says Jack, but in a tone of voice that suggests that Amy might want to leave rather than that he himself is going anywhere.
“Oh no,” says Amy firmly, putting the book down on the table with a threatening thump. “I’ll just pour the tea.”
Re: First Guest (PG) 2/2
From:Re: First Guest (PG) 2/2
From:Re: First Guest (PG) 2/2
From:no subject
Date: 2011-07-29 05:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-29 05:53 am (UTC)Recognition (Gen, PG)
Date: 2011-07-29 08:26 am (UTC)Not that he'd had any innocence left in him by the time the war came around. No, he'd long since filled that hollow up with belief, the hard kind of faith that allowed for no other possibility. The kind of faith that let him close his eyes on the deaths laid at his feet, let him not count their cost as part of what had to be done to achieve victory.
Until, of course, it hadn't been; when he had come out of a massacre of a battle horrified at himself, finished with death and lying and being unclean. When he'd found a new faith, and a new purity, in the eyes of God.
He wonders, sometimes, listening to the Captain speak, what would have happened if he'd been in Mal's place, if he'd have lost his faith in that valley. He knows now that God leads you where you need to be, not where you want to be.
But it's troubling him now, that when they tell their new war stories, tales of the ship's own personal battles, that he can join in easy as the rest of them. It doesn't seem right, that he should be slipping back into an old role so easily, treating these people as comrades in arms.
And now he feels God's voice telling him that maybe he belongs here just a little too much.
Re: Recognition (Gen, PG)
From:Re: Recognition (Gen, PG)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-07-29 06:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-19 10:22 pm (UTC)Their captor is looking down at them with a grin so smug Derek just wants to rip it right off. The man takes another step forward, drawing back his foot. Scott tenses in anticipation... and a shadow looms suddenly behind the man, tall and gangly and holding... a baseball bat?
The crack is hideously, satisfyingly, loud, and the man drops like his strings were cut clean through. Stiles is silhouetted in the space where he was, frozen for a second, before he steps forwards over the body and the light catches his face.
“Yes!” he shouts, voice a little shuddery and Derek can hear his heart thumping beneath his ribs. “All right!” Stiles half air punches and half flails wildly. “Best. Sidekick. Ever." He nods looking between them. “Am I right? I'm so right. You guys would be lost without me. Lost.”
His heartbeat's starting to steady, though Derek notices how he doesn't look at the body. His foot twitches away from where he accidentally touches the hunter's sleeve.
“You gonna get round to letting us free any time soon Mr Sidekick.” Scott says from the floor.
“Well I don't know...” Stiles cocks his hip, hand on his waist. Making a show of enjoying the moment.
“Before he wakes up,” Derek growls, but he sees the intended result in the slope of Stiles' shoulders and the sound of his breath easing, relieved, from his lungs. Stiles turns to look at him and Derek nods very slightly, easily able to distinguish the sound of the hunter's slow breathing.
“And before the rest of them get back from checking the perimeter,” Scott chimes in.
Stiles' hand drops from his waist and he pales, rushing forwards. “Oh right, yeah. Good plan.”
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-07-29 07:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-29 07:12 am (UTC)Bonus if Sam didn't *want* to be an angel, but got turned into one anyway. Happy ending, please?
Strange Face of Love - late fill
Date: 2011-08-09 11:45 am (UTC)They called Gabriel because Sam wouldn’t stop screaming. He didn’t knew what happened and usually Gabriel hadn’t made any effort to find out since he was still recovering form his near death experience with his so sweet older brother.
But since it was Sam who had stuffed earlier mentioned older brother back into his cage and left him an adequate distraction, which would last at least a few millennia, Gabriel felt obliged to answer Castiel’s rather desperate call for help. Who shouldn’t know that he was alive in the first place, but Castiel had proven to be devious enough to survive the family dinner and for that Gabriel could at least have look at the Winchester.
Despite that, it was Sam, who always had been interesting. Had Castiel called because of Dean, he certainly would’ve told his little brother to go and bother someone else, since he would not get between a sneaky, slightly obsessed angel and his object of desire.
So Gabriel made the effort to stretch his wings and fly towards the place he senses Castiel. He wasn’t as fast as he liked or as used to be, but he could still follow Castiel’s request immediately enough not to attract attention from his brother to his own limited condition. Thankfully it only applied to his aching vessel and his grace beneath it. His mind was still aware enough that Castiel didn’t call him to one of the endless motel rooms the Winchester spend their life in nor to Singer’s refuge for particular stupid and suicidal idjids.
But it seemed this time it wasn’t Sam’s fault.
It couldn’t be.
Gabriel choked on his snarky remark he had prepared. It didn’t happen often you could render the arch herald speechless, but he needed time for his mind to grasp, what his senses were telling him.
Sam was screaming.
But it wasn’t the human way: screaming with their voice until the pain they felt drove them hoarse long before insanity took place.
No, Sam was screaming. Screaming with a voice he shouldn’t possess in a first place, with a pain beneath Gabriel wouldn’t wish anyone. If someone thought a cramp, a torn muscle or a broken arm was pain, than he never experienced the anguish of an angel with strained grace.
It's probably not quite what you wanted
An angel, who didn’t even knew what was happening to him.
“Samuel”, Gabriel mumbled quietly.
He used his own wings to rub soothingly over the grace lingering in this room, because Sam the angel wasn’t aware enough of himself to wrap his grace around the human body he possessed. Or was inhabited a better word? Because the flesh he was carefully touching with his hands now, seemed to belong to Sam Winchester.
Sam Winchester, the human.
Re: Strange Face of Love - late fill
From:Re: Strange Face of Love - late fill
From:Re: Strange Face of Love - late fill
From:no subject
Date: 2011-07-29 07:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-29 07:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-29 07:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-29 08:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-29 08:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-29 08:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-29 08:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-29 08:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-29 09:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-29 09:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-29 09:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-29 10:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-29 11:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-10 03:29 pm (UTC)Mal shook his head and tugged Simon's shirt over his head. "Not so far as I can tell."
"No one's chasing us at the moment?" Simon returned the favor, removing Mal's shirt and trailing his fingers over the captain's chest.
"Well, they are, but they ain't close enough to catch us, at least not tonight."
Simon smiled and let Mal unfasten his belt. With only a slight shake of his hips, his pants fell to the floor around already bare feet and he stepped out of them, stepped closer to Mal.
"No one needs cuttin' on or sewin' up?" Mal's breath hitched as his own pants were removed and Simon, always direct, never one to waste a moment, wrapped those long surgeon's fingers around the already hard length that sprang free.
"Everyone's in good shape, and will hopefully stay that way as long as they stay out of trouble."
Mal took Simon's hand, then backed up to his bed where he turned and gently pushed the doctor back. As Simon lay down, Mal leaned over him, hands exploring, eyes dark and that wicked, mischievous smile on his face that promised all sorts of good things in the upcoming hours.
"So it's just you and me," Mal said, lowering himself so their bodies were flush, erections nestled together between them, hearts and breath getting faster.
Simon leaned up and licked his way past Mal's lips. "Just you and me. Finally."
They both paused, looking at each other, breaths held as they waited for the inevitable alarm to go off, knock on the door, or comm to come to life requesting one or the other of them report to the bridge or the infirmary.
Nearly a minute passed in silence, then two.
As their lips met and Mal slowly sank into Simon's warmth, the rest of the crew stood on the bridge, silent, tense, and alert, ready to handle anything that came along themselves - quietly - determined to give their captain and doctor some well-deserved time alone.
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-07-29 11:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-29 11:24 am (UTC)