Tuesday: Song lyrics!

[nagi_schwarz]

Hello, everyone. I’m nagi_schwarz and your host for the week. As a reminder, Sundays are for Lonely Prompts and sharing the fills that you completed during the week, Tuesdays and Thursdays are for new themes and prompts and Saturdays will remain a Free for All. Posting will be done on both DW and LJ so everyone should be able to get notifications.

With that being said, today's theme is song lyrics. Prompts can be lyrics from any song, from pop to opera to folk songs and nursery rhymes.

Just a few rules:
No more than five prompts in a row.
No more than three prompts in the same fandom.
Use the character's full names and the fandom's full name
No spoilers in prompts for a month after airing, or use the spoiler cut option found here.
If your fill contains spoilers, warn and leave plenty of space, or use the above-mentioned spoiler cut.

Prompts should be formatted as follows: [Use the character's full names and fandom's full name]
Fandom, Character +/ Character, Prompt

Some examples to get the ball rolling...

+ any, any, I’m not myself without you in this world (Find Me - Rocky)
+ any, any, you loved me just the same (Yes or No - Rocky)
+ any, any, when I see you, it feels like the whole world is upside down (Chameleon - Rocky)

We are now using AO3 to bookmark filled prompts. If you fill a prompt and post it to AO3 please add it to the Bite Sized Bits of Fic from 2024 collection. See further notes on this new option here.

Not feeling any of today’s prompts? You can use LJ’s advanced search options to limit keyword results to only comments in this community.

While the use of LJ's advanced search options is available, bookmarking the links of prompts you like might work better for searching in the future.

If you have a Dreamwidth account and would feel more comfortable participating there, please feel free to do so…and spread the word! comment_fic


tag=song lyrics

Comments

[nagi_schwarz]

any, any, I’m not myself without you in this world (Find Me - Rocky)

Fill: Astro (Kpop), MJ/Dongmin

[vonseal]

Dongmin stared at the image of himself on the computer screen and thought, very briefly, that he looked rather good.

And then he wondered how he had fallen in love with Bin.

Not that Bin wasn’t a good friend and a good person, but…Bin? He never had an ounce of romantic feelings within him to fall in love with Bin.

But this Dongmin, staring back at him from the computer screen, somehow had.

Dongmin sighed and leaned back in his chair as he considered the complexities of interdimensional travel. He had been to many realities before and had encountered the same humans over and over again, and he still could not quite figure out how they all seemed so similar and yet so different. In some universes, Dongmin no longer existed. In others, he was exalted and in others he was despised.

He never cared about himself, though. Finding his alternate self was not a priority. The only Dongmin that mattered to him was him.

But every single Myungjun mattered.

He started his journey to save Myungjun’s life, to stop other interdimensional travelers from taking him and using him and sacrificing him for the greater good. Yes, his blood contained powerful antibodies that could possibly save all of humanity from his time and place, but Dongmin had seen them sacrifice Myungjun over and over again. The virus that plagued his own people was no closer to being eradicated, and yet Myungjun continued to die in vain, to save a humanity he would never know.

Sometimes he volunteered himself to die in a single, selfless act and nothing Dongmin could say made any difference. Other times, he was forcibly led to his doom and Dongmin always arrived too late.

Finally, though, Dongmin had come across a stable universe and a Myungjun who was not yet caught and not yet killed and not yet ready to die selflessly. This Myungjun was in school for theater (a lucrative job in Dongmin’s own universe) and enjoyed camping (a pastime Dongmin knew nothing about, on account he lived on Mars and camping was nonexistent) and enjoyed eating a food called fried chicken (Dongmin only consumed lab meat and was still getting used to the taste of Earth food).

He was determined to keep this Myungjun alive.

He heard the door unlock, and he shot up from his chair, his heart hammering with anticipation. When Myungjun walked into the tiny studio apartment, Dongmin relaxed and sat back down again.

“It’s you,” he breathed out, thankful the scientists from his time had not yet arrived.
Myungjun raised a hand in greeting. “Hello, old man,” he said.

Dongmin raised his eyebrows as Myungjun deposited a small grocery bag onto the kitchen counter. “You don’t have to keep calling me old man.”

“I’m not sure what else I’m supposed to call you,” Myungjun replied. “You’re in your forties and you’re living with a young, innocent, naive boy who is only twenty-two.” He held a hand to his chest and theatrically murmured, “The scandal of it all!”

Dongmin scowled. “Before my world got hit with the plague, most men lived until they were one hundred and fifty – by all accounts, I’m still young and in my prime.”

“Not here,” Myungjun retorted, and then he pulled something out of his bag and displayed it proudly to Dongmin. “Here, I got you my favorite snacks. Squid flavored!”

“Squid?” Dongmin repeated, squinting his eyes at the package. He had no idea what a squid was, but Myungjun had teased him plenty for not knowing basic concepts (Myungjun’s words, not his), so he didn’t want to voice his confusion.

“It’s a sea creature,” Myungjun explained.

Dongmin nodded as if he did understand. “So…similar to fish and whales and sharks, then?”

“Eh.” Myungjun did not further his explanation and instead tossed the snacks over to Dongmin, who just barely was able to catch them. He glanced at the creature on the front and realized it looked quite similar to an octopus. It must be in the same family. He would have to research more about squids.

“We don’t have sea creatures on Mars,” Dongmin murmured. “Earth is rather abandoned in my time, so I have not gotten to visit the oceans. And most of the realities I visit are void of ocean life – or it’s not something I spend my time looking for.”

Myungjun raised his eyebrows, curious as to Dongmin’s previous reality. Dongmin did not often delve into his life before coming to Myungjun’s time and place, as he did not want to bring up his deceased lover too often.

But fortunately Myungjun did not ask questions. His eyes drifted over to the laptop, which still showed an image of this world’s Dongmin.

“Research,” Dongmin quickly explained. “It’s…um, I was just curious as to how I am in this reality.”

“A bore,” Myungjun replied. “You only put up with me because Bin is my friend.” He began to rifle through the rest of his groceries. “I think I like this version of you much better. You’re…more mature. Physically and mentally.”

“You like mature men?”

Myungjun grinned mischievously and shrugged his shoulders. It wasn’t an answer, but Myungjun was often like that. He teased often and made silly comments and remarks and liked to play around. It was what drew Dongmin so close to him. In every world, in every reality, he longed for Myungjun. Without him around, life felt meaningless.

“Are you alright?” Myungjun asked him suddenly, and Dongmin realized he had been gawking and tearing up. He brushed aside his emotions with a quick wave of his arm and nodded his head.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re thinking about him,” Myungjun commented.

“Him?”

Myungjun raised his eyebrows, and Dongmin knew whom he was referring to. Him. The Kim Myungjun who could not fall victim to the plague. The Kim Myungjun in his own life who died prematurely after he had agreed to donate some blood in order to stop the virus. The Kim Myungjun who had been murdered and his body parts utilized for various cures and ailments. The Kim Myungjun who lived on through alternate realities, times, and dimensions.

“I always think of him,” Dongmin murmured, and he took a seat back at the desk. Myungjun watched him, curious, and Dongmin tried his best to offer a small smile.

“You know I’m not him,” Myungjun pointed out. “I’m…I’m different. Just like that Dongmin is different from you.”

“I’m aware. I’ve met many Myungjuns before. But you all share…some similarities. For example, you can all sing! And you’re all so goofy. I wish I could be as goofy and as carefree as you.” Dongmin laughed. “But you are the first who goes camping, which is an activity I cannot fathom. Why on earth would you go camping when you can stay inside? Granted, the air here is breathable, at least, which is more than I can say about Mars. Or even a lot of the Earths I’ve been to. I was fortunate that my calculations on this dimension provided me ample notice that the air was clear and I would not be subjected to a lack of oxygen. I think the scientists who are after you will not be as used to inter-dimensional travel and so perhaps they will falter when they realize that Earth here–”

He hadn’t realized Myungjun was so close to him suddenly, and he gave a start when Myungjun leaned over to kiss his cheek. He blinked and peered up at Myungjun, who looked rather embarrassed at his display of affection and quickly returned back to his groceries.

“What was that for?” Dongmin asked, his voice a bit hushed.

“Dunno,” Myungjun responded. “I felt like you needed it.”

“Did you also need it?”

Once more, Myungjun’s only answer was a grin, but that was just fine with Dongmin. He sat there, basking in the glow of that single kiss, and knew this is what he had been missing all along.

[nagi_schwarz]

any, any, you loved me just the same (Yes or No - Rocky)

Fill: Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard/Rodney McKay

[brumeier]

Rodney had been through some tough times in the past, even before he came to Atlantis.

His parents had been assholes, wielding words like sharpened knives; the scars were real, if not physically present. He’d suffered at the hands of high school bullies, and college professors who hadn’t liked being shown up by an insufferable teenage genius. He’d been banished to Siberia by the SGC, kept away from the projects that were actually worth a damn.

Watching the video chronicle of himself losing his mind? Top of the list of the worst things he’d ever gone through.

“You don’t need to watch it,” Jennifer had insisted. “Why put yourself through that?”

Dr. Ramesh, the base psychiatrist, had disagreed. “Confronting what happened to you will help you move forward.”

“If it were me, I’d want to know,” John had said with a nonchalant shrug.

In the end, Rodney hadn’t really had a choice. He hated being left out of the loop, hated that other people knew things about him he didn’t remember himself.

No, I'm-I'm not anymore. I'm not…s-s-mart anymore. Doctors are smart, so I'm "mister" now.

He’d worked so hard to be the smartest man in any room, and all it had taken was a microscopic parasite to unravel his entire sense of self. Everything that had made him Dr. Rodney McKay, PhD, PhD had been eradicated.

Where is... where did John go? John? Where are you, John?

The most illuminating part of the whole humiliating situation was Jennifer. Rodney had been attracted to her when she’d first come to Atlantis – well, who wouldn’t be? – but he knew he hadn’t stood a chance against Ronon, who had also expressed his interest in ‘wooing’ the pretty doctor. It was so unexpected, then, how Jennifer’s interest in Rodney had changed when the parasite’s effects started to show.

What did it say about her that she fell for him while he was becoming more and more childlike? Probably Dr. Ramesh would have some opinions about that, and Rodney was going to ask him at their next session.

More unexpected was how she so easily dismissed what had been obvious to Rodney since the day he’d let John toss him off a balcony to test the personal shield. Over and over again on the video, Rodney was calling for John. Looking for John. Talking about John. With everything else that slipped away, as if Rodney’s brain was slowly dissipating into whisps of smoke, he never forgot John.

That night on the pier wasn’t part of the recording, but it was fresh in Rodney’s mind. Maybe because it was so close to the end of his affliction. When they’d gone to the Shrine of Talus, he’d remembered it then too, once the radiation kicked in. Jennifer had been accused of holding too tightly to Rodney, but John had been holding on just as tightly in his own way.

I mean, I'm not saying goodbye. You're stuck with me, Rodney. Just accept it.

Which was just as illuminating, in a different way. Rodney knew his team loved him; they’d shown him in so many ways. But Teyla and Ronon had wanted a chance to say goodbye, a chance to tell him one last time how they felt. John hadn’t been willing to do the same. He’d been grasping at straws and got lucky.

And it occurred to Rodney that, as much as Jennifer had preferred his softer, mushy-brained side, John had always accepted him as he was, flaws and all. Had ultimately forgiven him everything, including Doranda.

He may have claimed to love Rodney the way a friend feels about another friend, but in his guts, in his heart of hearts, Rodney didn’t believe that was true. He believed John loved him the same way he loved John, because that love had never changed, never diminished, never asked Rodney to be anything other than what he was.

John loved Rodney just the same as he always had.

Well, Rodney wasn’t wasting anymore time. He gathered up his courage and the black leather jacket John had let him borrow and went calling.

“Rodney. Everything okay?”

John was hiding out in his office, purportedly to do paperwork. Rodney could see he’d been doing Sudoku puzzles instead. The open look of concern on his face made something tighten in Rodney’s chest.

“I’m just returning this.” He thrust the jacket at John. “And I wanted to ask your advice about something.”

John leaned back in his chair. “Shoot.”

“I want to ask someone out. On a date.”

And wasn’t it interesting how quickly John’s open expression shuttered into a bland blankness? Rodney had always assumed it meant John wasn’t interested in talking about his love life, but he now suspected that was true for entirely different reasons.

“Keller?” John asked, his tone giving nothing away.

“The woman who took power tools to my irreplaceable skull? I don’t think so.”

John’s forehead crinkled, showing his confusion. “Who then?”

“This guy I talked to the other night out on the pier. Arthur.”

Rodney was entertained watching the different emotions that crossed John’s face in the span of seconds before the blankness resumed.

“Rodney, there was no guy. I know you don’t remember, but –”

“I remember that night very well, actually.” Rodney leaned over the desk and planted his palms. “And I’ve recently come to the realization that you’ve been holding back and I’ve had some sort of John Sheppard blinders on. I’m sure Dr. Ramesh could tell me exactly why that kind of thing happens, though as a genius you’d think I could see what was right in front of me this whole time.”

“McKay,” John said, and then didn’t follow it up with anything. His voice was a little strangled, though, and there were cracks starting to show in the bland façade.

“You wouldn’t let me say goodbye.” Rodney rounded the desk until he was standing right in front of John, who’d pushed his chair back as far as it would go. “How about if we try hello instead?”

He leaned in slowly, watching John’s eyes go wide. Flight or fight? Neither, as it turned out. As soon as their lips met, John surged forward and put everything he had into that kiss, and wow. Flying had never been Rodney’s thing, but he was starting to think he understood the joy of it now. Because every molecule of his body was alight and pulsating with yes and finally and hell yes!

Not even a parasite would be able to take the memory of that first kiss away from him.

When Rodney pulled back, he had John’s hands on his hips and the taste of John on his tongue. “So. You wanna go out sometime?”

John just stared at him for a moment, and then he started laughing, great big donkey-bray laughs. Rodney laughed along with him.

Their relationship was changing right in front of his eyes, but not the way Rodney felt. He loved John just the same as he always had. Only now he could show it.

[nagi_schwarz]

any, any, when I see you, it feels like the whole world is upside down (Chameleon - Rocky)

[vonseal]

Astro (kpop), MJ/Jinjin, ‘The Little Prince once said to me,
"To win one's heart is the hardest thing for someone to do."’ (The Little Prince - Ryeowook)

[brumeier]

Any, Any, Your prison is walking through this world all alone (The Eagles)

Fill: Astro, Shadowhunter AU, Dongmin + OCs, minor character death

[nagi_schwarz]

As a child, Dongmin had thought that time was freedom. While he was helping his mother with the endless chores they had to do to survive — fetching water from the stream, checking the traps for hares and deer, gathering herbs and grasses for their food and the medicines they made and that his mother and younger brother sold in the village — all he’d ever wanted was time. Time to read more than the medical books his mother stored in the chest in the corner of their one-room house. Time to lie on his back and look at the stars. Time to wander and see the wider world.

And then one time Dongmin made the fatal mistake of slipping away from his duties — he was supposed to be rinsing rise — and prowling close to the village, and he learned two terrible truths: his face was beautiful, and he was a monster.

His mother and brother didn’t have deer antlers like he did, but he liked his antlers, because when he shed them at the end of winter and the beginning of spring, they could be sold for knife handles and other ornaments, or carved into charms to sell. Best of all, mother would weave pretty brook-polished pebbles and seeds and feathers onto strings and hang them from his antlers, making him pretty.

He was pretty, all right.

Pretty monstrous.

He had antlers because he was half-demon.

The medicines and charms his mother sold were so potent because of Dongmin’s half-demon magic. He hadn’t even realized he had magic, and he didn’t really know how to use it, not well enough to defend his mother and brother when the humans came with their scythes and shovels and hammers and burning torches.

Dongmin was a monster who couldn’t die. He could be wounded. He could feel pain. But his magic, the magic he’d desperately sent out over and over again to try to save his mother and brother, worked on him instead, healed him.

It was a serious-faced girl in leather armor, who had high cheekbones and curious black tattoos all over her skin, who found him and took him in. Rescued him. Told him what he was.

A warlock. Half-demon. No doubt his mother had been taken in by the demon’s beautiful face, as beautiful as Dongmin was. (Dongmin couldn’t explain that his mother was beautiful in her own right, and that his younger brother, fully human, had been even more beautiful than him.)

Dongmin was powerful. But he had to use his power carefully, to never use it against the humans, or the Council would strike him down.

“What council?” Dongmin huddled against the roots of a giant oak, seeking refuge in its life-force and old, old power.

“The Clave. Shadowhunters.”

“What’s a Shadowhunter?”

“I’m a Shadowhunter. We maintain the balance between downworlders and humans.”

Dongmin closed his eyes and heard his mother and brother’s final screams. “Seems like humans can take care of themselves just fine.”

“Don’t mind the mundanes,” the girl said. “They’re weak and ignorant to the ways of darkness. Don’t know any better. So we protect them, but we don’t tell them anything.”

Like children, Dongmin thought. The way his mother had never told him about his father, about his own magic, about how he was different and how dangerous that difference was.

But she’d told him, hadn’t she? By warning him away from the village and telling him never to go there. He hadn’t listened to her, and now —

“Fine. I’ll leave the humans alone so long as they leave me alone,” he said.

The girl nodded. “That’s the spirit. If one of them comes after you, you can deal with him. But you can’t slaughter a whole village or anything.”

“Even if that village killed my family?”

The girl’s expression softened. “They’re weak. They fear what they don’t understand. Don’t hate them. Pity them.” And she drew Dongmin into a hug.

Her armor was stiff and poky and she was bristling with weapons, but he hadn’t been hugged in a long time, and he hugged her back, and then he cried, and she patted his hair gingerly, trying to avoid his antlers.

“Now,” she said, “I have a place you can stay. It’s warm and comfortable.”

“Does it have books?”

“It has so many books.” She rose, still holding his hand, and led him through the trees.

“Not just medicine books. Story books?”

“All kinds of books. Books you’ve probably never imagined. Books about magic, and lands where the sands stretches as far as the eye can see, an ocean of shifting gold.”

“I’ve never seen the ocean.” Dongmin was intrigued.

She smiled at him. “You can see the ocean, and the desert, and places where people have hair the color of poppies, or yellow camellias.”

“Are they monsters like me?” Dongmin asked, wide-eyed.

She laughed. “No, they’re just people. There are so many people in this world. You’ll see.”

And Dongmin did, with the lovely Park Byeol by his side, but then he realized that Shadowhunters, unlike Warlocks, were not immortal. She went out on a hunt, and she never came back.

Dongmin, who’d been filling his time with reading and learning and magic, making charms and medicine for Byeol and the other hunters so they could be safe, filling his time with all the things he’d done with his mother and brother (except fetching water; being able to magic that was delightful) suddenly had too much time.

No Byeol to talk to.

The other Shadowhunters came to him for charms and potions and medicine and wisdom, as he was the overseer of a vast library of knowledge, about every downworlder under the sun and in the planes beyond.
But they weren’t his friends.

They grew old, and died, and he consulted with their children, and their children’s children, and the time that he had craved as a child had become a prison for him now, locking him away from the mortals around him. As the centuries marched on, Dongmin traveled the world, seeing the deserts and oceans and distant lands Byeol had told him about, collecting new magic and potions and knowledge. He’d spent an age on the Emerald isle, roaming the woods and doling out small charms and healing to the beautiful wine-haired maidens who would shyly press kisses to his cheeks and drape glittering chains and trinkets from his antlers.

He met other warlocks, many who had stories similar to his, idyllic childhoods with human mothers ruined by the scared and ignorant humans around them. The warlocks who’d been raised in the infernal planes were a different beast altogether, and they rarely lasted long on the mortal plane, their chaotic rampages cut short by shadowhunters.

Every now and again Dongmin struck up a cordial alliance with a particular shadowhunter, one who didn’t hold too tightly to prejudices against downworlders and was interested in him beyond what magic he could provide to the Clave and other shadowhunters.

When he finally returned to his homeland, Hanyang had become Gyeoseong had become Seoul, and the woods and villages and towns he’d known as a child had become bustling streets with sleek cars and glassy skyscrapers stark against the horizon.

He was the eldest of the warlocks in Joseon, and one of the strongest. He wasn’t much interested in politics, but the Shadowhunters at the Seoul Institute had records of him, and it wasn’t much of a question: a warlock of his caliber should be the High Warlock of Seoul.

Dongmin supposed he could return to filling his days as he once had with his mother and brother, but as he walked the streets and saw familiar faces, he wondered which of them were the descendants of those villagers long ago who’d taken his mother and brother from him. And he decided it didn’t matter, because they carried no memory of their ancestors’ crimes, and he was outside of time anyway. He was the only person walking the earth who carried his family’s memories, but no one remembered the people who killed them, and that, he supposed, was revenge enough.

He would sit in his gilded cage with bars of time and immortality, and he would wait — wait till he saw his mother and brother reincarnated, till the soul-searching spells he’d cast all those centuries ago came to fruition.

And then he would use his immortality to give them the long, happy lives they deserved, and after that — after that he would have to hope that being half human was human enough to be reborn with them again.

He was sitting at his workbench, carving a little figurine of a bear from a piece of one of his own shed antlers, when he felt a whisper down his spine.

Someone had crossed his wards.

[brumeier]

Any, Any,

Just a young gun with the quick fuse
I was uptight, wanna let loose
I was dreaming of bigger things
And wanna leave my own life behind
(Imagine Dragons)

[brumeier]

Any, Any, (feel free to change up pronouns as needed)

She looks good on paper, but I'm a fucking mess
She's got her shit together, I won't lie I'm impressed
But even though she's beautiful and perfect
It's only on the surface
Yeah, it's true
She looks good on paper, but I look good on you
(Mackenzie Ziegler)

[brumeier]

Any, Any,

I was out by myself in the graveyard
I was doing an interpretive dance
(TMBG)

Fill: Spooks (MI5), Guess who!

[smallhobbit]

“How are you proposing to keep people away from the graveyard until the clear up team arrive?” Harry asked Ros.

“We’ve left Lucas up there,” she replied. “In his current form he should be sufficient to dissuade even the most curious from exploring.”

“Well, I hope you’re right!”

Ten minutes later, Malcolm called over to say, “I’m not sure what’s going on, but there seems to be a lot of messages flying around about something strange happening in the graveyard. Although nothing which says, ‘a large fearsome dog’, more that there’s a demon performing a strange sort of rite.”

“The team are nearly there,” Ros said, “so I can get Adam to call him off.”

They waited for Adam to phone to say it was all clear. When he did so, Ros asked what had been going on.

“From what I could tell, he’d got bored and was reading the gravestones while he waited, and doing what could best be described as interpretative dance about each of the people buried there. No, I have no idea either.”

[brumeier]

Any, Any/Any, (again, pronouns are changeable)

Kiss me, I taste him on your lips
Touch me, he’s on your fingertips
(Hot Chelle Rae)

Fill: Resident Evil

[drabblewriter]

On AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61905520

[vonseal]

any, any, Perhaps there'll be an end
It’s not today (Hiding Words - Ryeowook)

[squidgiepdx]

Stargate Atlantis, Any/Any, "Go forth and have no fear" (Renegades by X-Ambassadors)

Fill: implied McShep, plus Radek and Lorne

[nagi_schwarz]

“Go forth and have no fear,” Rodney said.

Radek stared at him. “I’m not afraid of the children on M7G-677. They’re just annoying.”

Rodney, no doubt remembering how Radek had come back from his last visit to the planet with his hair braided and paint on his face, just smirked. “Just make sure their shield system is working properly, all right?”

Radek threw his hands up and stomped away, muttering under his breath in Czech.

“You know,” John said, leaning on the edge of his desk, “you look great with face paint.”

Rodney made a face. “I do not.”

It was Lorne, sitting at the desk opposite John’s and making his way through a virtual stack of virtual paperwork, who said, “Body paint, though. Can look pretty good, if someone is a good enough artist.”

John frowned at him. “What are you implying, Lorne?”

Lorne was, everyone knew, a skilled painter.

“Nothing, sir. Unless you want to borrow my body paint? It’s non-toxic. Specifically for skin.” Lorne glanced up briefly, then resumed typing a fitness report.

Right. Fitness reports. John was supposed to get his done by the end of the week.

Rodney said, “Is it hypoallergenic?”

“No one I know has had a bad reaction to it yet,” Lorne said, and for a second John was wondering who Lorne knew in the context of body paint, but he knew better than to ask.

Rodney cleared his throat. “Sure. I’d like to borrow your paint.”

“Okay. I can drop it off at your door when I’m done with my shift.” Lorne glanced up at John again, and added, “I’ll send along the nice paintbrushes. Silk bristles.”

“Please do,” Rodney said, and suddenly John wished their shift was over already.

Lorne said, dryly, “Go forth and have no fear.”

Rodney was blushing as he left the office, but John knew Rodney was thinking about that paint too.

[squidgiepdx]

Stargate Atlantis, Any/Any, "All hail the underdogs" (Renegades by X-Ambassadors)

[squidgiepdx]

Stargate Atlantis, Any/Any, "Come forth and lend an ear" (Renegades by X-Ambassadors)

Teeny Fill, John/Rodney

[jupiter2932]

The pier's sort of their place, now.

It's John tonight, who heads out first, who sits on the edge of the dock and lets his bare feet touch the water, who sits quiet stargazing in the gathering dark and lets the breeze tangle his hair; and it's Rodney, this time, who grabs a couple of beers and plods out to join him.

"So," Rodney starts when John's got his beer--because that's how this goes, without anything but jokes until they've both got a beer. "Radek says you got a message from your brother today."

"Yeah," John says with a sigh and doesn't elaborate, because that's how this goes, too.

So Rodney waits, because he's learned."You ever see Jeannie about to do something stupid," comes eventually, after a long sip of beer.

"Train crash coming from a mile off, but you know she won't listen if you say anything?"

Rodney huffs a laugh. He shifts forward, and the water closes in around his ankles. "Yeah, with hindsight, it was usually the other way around."

It startles a chuckle out of John, and then another drink, and, "Hell."

Rodney sips again, and waggles his feet when a bit of seaweed brushes up against his toes, and waits again for John to stretch his arms and sigh and let the rest of it come tumbling out.

Because this is how it goes.

[squidgiepdx]

9-1-1, Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eduardo "Eddie" Diaz, "A million dreams keeping me awake" (A Million Dreams by P!nk)

[jupiter2932]

any, any/+any, My heart was broken/You saw it, you claimed it/You touched it, you saved it (Sunshine on Leith - The Proclaimers)

Not a fill (YET)...

[squidgiepdx]

....but my love for The Proclaimers knows no bounds. Now I'm pondering.

[squidgiepdx]

Any, Any/Any,

"See the pyramids along the Nile
Watch the sunrise on a tropic isle
just remember, darlin', all the while
You belong to me."

("You Belong To Me" by Patsy Cline)

Not a fill...

[brumeier]

...but I used to sing this to my son when he was little. Every night before bed. ::feels nostalgic::

[jupiter2932]

Any, any/any, I remember when/I was lonely and unhappy and my lips were cold as ice/But you kissed me and good heavens/Now I'm here in Paradise (Galileo - Declan O'Rourke)

Fill: Astro, Dongmin + Bin + Minhyuk, Old Kingdom-ish AU

[nagi_schwarz]

He was cold. Cold as ice. He was frozen. Trapped. In Death. He’d been fighting and losing and — dying.

Now he was dying.

Always dying.

Caught in the tide that dragged souls down, down, down into the depths, where the final bells tolled their last farewells.

He was alone.

He could sense warmth, sense life just on the other side of the invisible barrier and darkness that kept him imprisoned. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t shout. He had to warn them. Save the queen! Save her! Fight the —

Fight the monster who’d killed him. Who’d killed everyone around him.

The monster with free magic that burned like lightning, and —

Warmth stole over him. Warmth — and pain. Like a thousand prickling needles. He’d been frozen numb and now he was warming up again. He was — he was coming to life.

He was free.

The first thing he knew was — heat. Pain.

He had a body again.

A body with a thundering heart and rushing blood and growling stomach and —

Oh. Oh. A mouth on his.

He remembered this softness, this sweetness. A kiss was the first step down the road to paradise.

He opened his eyes.

A cat was peering at him.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to kiss him,” the cat said.

A talking cat. Panic seized him. The talking cat meant — meant —

And then something forced his mouth open and suddenly air down his throat choked him.

And then the pressure on his mouth was gone and he was staring at the most beautiful man in the world as he wiped his mouth with the back of one hand.

“It’s called mouth-to-mouth resuscitation,” the man said primly.

He wore black lacquered armor that gleamed like a fish’s scales from the deepest ocean abyss. Beneath the armor, his robes were black and patterned with white bells.

Bells that could send a soul to or call a soul forth from the Joseung, the realm of the dead.
A wild and nefarious wielder of those bells was a necromancer, but the Guardian of the border between Life and Death wore the symbol of the white bells.

The Joseung Suhoja.

“You know better than anyone,” the cat said, “that bringing a man back from Death does not require resuscitation. He was in Death. He hadn’t just taken an unfortunately long dip in the sea.”

“I’ve never brought back someone who’s been — er — bound for such a long time. Inside his own body. I just wanted to be sure,” was the response.

He — who was he? What was his name? — scrambled to his knees. “Suhoja.” His voice sounded hoarse and weak to his own ears. Rusty from disuse. “Forgive me.”

“Forgive you?” the man echoed. “Who are you?”

“I — don’t remember.” Why couldn’t he remember? His mind raced.

The cat, perched atop a leather pack, cleaned one paw. “He was in Death for a long time. His soul is worn down. He’s lucky he can even talk. He’s a few steps up from a vegetable. Maybe he’ll be tasty. Although how tasty would a centuries-old carrot be?”

The Suhoja clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Don’t be so catty, Binnie. He can hear you.”

“I’m a cat,” Bin the Cat pointed out.

The Suhoja knelt. “If you don’t have a name, what should I call you?”

His mind raced some more. Memories flashed through his mind. Golden sunlight. Footsteps ringing on a stone courtyard. The clash of steel. A cat-like smile.

You’re immovable. Like a rock. I’m going to call you —

“Rocky,” he said. His voice was still hoarse from disuse. Had he always sounded this deep and husky? “You can call me Rocky.”

“Rocky? But — that’s a thug’s name. A ruffian.” The Suhoja was frowning.

All Rocky remembered was his failure to protect the queen. “It is the only name I deserve.” He inclined his head to the Bin the Cat, though he was sure he’d once known it by another name. “Greetings to you, Guardian Cat.”

Bin cleaned his whiskers and barely flicked a glance at him. “So you don’t remember your own name but you remember me.”

“Yes. And — The Suhoja.”

The Suhoja frowned and tugged at the sleeve of his robe. “I’m not really The Suhoja. That’s my mother. I’m trying to find her. I’m Lee Dongmin.”

“Lord Dongmin,” Rocky said, and rose. “I am here to serve you.”

Dongmin made a choked sound.

Bin flicked his tail and said, “Maybe Rocky should put some clothes on.”

[cornerofmadness]

The Owl House, Hunter + any, Born into a hole six feet in the ground
I had to love me when nobody cared
And be the family that never was there (My Own Miracle - Citizen Soldier)

[cornerofmadness]

The Owl House, Hunter + Emperor Belos Well, I wrote you a song
But you say you want a symphony (Ares by Winters island)

[cornerofmadness]

Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Darla/Angelus There's a crack in the mirror
And a bloodstain on the bed
Oh, you were a vampire
And baby, I'm the walking dead (Bloodletting - Concrete Blonde)

[cornerofmadness]

Prodigal Son, Malcolm Bright + any, It's me, hi
I'm the problem, it's me (Antihero - Taylor Swift)

Fill: Malcolm, Dani Powell, Gil Arroyo, Jessica Whitly (Monster Hunter 'verse)

[brumeier]

In Defense of Dani

[cornerofmadness]

The Owl House, Edalyn Clawthorne +/Raine Whispers Sometimes you picture me
I'm walkin' too far ahead
You're callin' to me
I can't hear what you've said (Time after Time, Cyndi Lauper)