Monday: Figurative Language

[nevcolleil.livejournal.com]

Good morning, dears :D I'm nevcolleil, and I'll be your guest host this week. Today is Monday and your prompt for the day is figurative language.
Sayings, expressions, comparisons... (And, if you can dig the Language Arts lingo, metaphors and similes. Heck, throw in some kennings if the fancy strikes you!)

Examples:

Any, any, "I didn't mean it literally!"
Chuck/White Collar, Chuck/Neal, like a cat on a hot tin roof
Angel, Wes +or/ Illyria, You should never speak metaphorically to an ancient god king... and this is why.

Just don't forget the rules:
♥ No more than five "live" prompts at any time.
♥ No more than three prompts from a specific fandom.
♥ No spoilers in your prompts until at least a week after release/air/publication date. If your fill is spoilerly, mark it obviously as such.
♥ Respect our codemonkey overlords, and format your prompts in the way that is pleasing to them (See Above Examples)
♥ Have fun! ;)

Comments

[nevcolleil.livejournal.com]

Any, any, "I didn't mean it literally!"

Filled: Leverage, Parker & Sophie

[downbythebay-4.livejournal.com]

“Got it!” Parker chimed, her head poking up from under the desk as she pat the listening device she had planted affectionately.

“Well done,” Sophie said, hanging the garment bag containing her ‘sensual, yet professional modern businesswoman’ attire on the ledge of the far bookshelf. “Can you draw the blinds for me, Parker? I’m going to get changed before the mark arrives.”

“Sure thing Sophie,” Parker agreed, hopping up.

Sophie closed the curtains and turned to face the corner as she shimmied off her ‘gets us past security every time’ dress and unzipped the garment bag. She stepped into the skirt, and pulled it up to her waist to reveal a few inches of thigh, untangling the satin material from the waistband.

She spun around gathering her hair into a bun. “Parker, can you tie this sash—”

The blinds still open, she stared out into the abandoned office. Hardison, at least, had the decency to cover his face and avert his eyes. Eliot was staring at her with his head tilted to the side like a puppy trying to process something new. And Nate, just…ugh.

Parker sat in the swivel chair behind the desk with a pen and paper in hand, scribbling diligently.

“Parker!” Sophie said, snapping the blinds closed indignantly. “I asked you to draw the blinds.”

“Yeah,” Parker said, turning the pad over to reveal her work. “I did that.”

“I didn’t mean it literally!” Sophie said, snatching her blouse out of the garment bag. “I’m trying to get dressed!”

Parker spun around on the chair. “Still don’t get how that makes more sense.”

“Just make sure the listening device is turned on,” Sophie buttoned her top. “You have to depress the pin.”

Parker stuck her head back under the desk. “You will never amount to anything.”

[nevcolleil.livejournal.com]

Chuck/White Collar, Chuck/Neal, like a cat on a hot tin roof

[nevcolleil.livejournal.com]

Angel, Wes +or/ Illyria, You should never speak metaphorically to an ancient god king... and this is why

[mangacrack.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Sam /& Gabriel, good coffee is like friendship: rich and warm and strong

College AU

[loveinstars.livejournal.com]

Sam is mostly still asleep but he's here, despite the yawning and the temptation of his warm bed calling from his apartment. But he needs to do this, he needs to be here. Sam's got class in an hour and a week from now is the final for it so Sam gets up a couple hours early each morning to sit here at his favorite diner a few streets over from the college. He'll sit here with his books spread out around him and a pencil to chew on as he feverishly studies until it gets to the point that he'll be late for class if he doesn't leave.

He never is late, of course, but the fear of it always gets Sam in motion. Just like the fear of finals and tests and not doing well on them makes Sam get up at ungodly times of the day.

Sam may be in a diner but he never orders anything, too nervous to eat and not at all suicidal enough to order their coffee but he doesn't have time to stop at Starbucks to get the good stuff.

He sits here alone, head bent over a text book, for about a half hour before someone approaches(right on time) and slides onto the bench across from him.

"I will never get over how much of a nervous nerd you are." It's said with fond exasperation and Sam grins before looking at his best friend.

"Morning Gabriel."

"Insane morning to you too, Sammy." The short medical intern says with a sigh before pushing a tall, steaming cup that read 'Starbucks' on the sides across the table.

Sam falls on it with a grateful groan and sucks his first deep drag, feeling instantly a thousand times better with the shot of liquid heaven.

Gabriel snickers with a roll of his eyes and Sam smiles happily at him, "Thank you, Gabe."

"Yeah, yeah. You'd perish without the stuff and I gotta take care of my boy, right? I mean, who else would be willing to do all my work for me?"

Sam laughs and relaxes in a way he hadn't been a moment ago. "I'm a law student not a med student, I couldn't help you even if you did bribe me. Almost a good excuse though."

"Eh, close enough. If anyone asks I'll just lie." Gabriel says, brushing it off.

"Why do you have to have an excuse anyway? To buy me these, I mean. You do it every time I get like this." Sam feels pride in himself for noticing his behavior to be less then healthy, not that he plans to change it.

Gabriel shrugs and props his head on his palm, "I don't, not really. You're my best friend, you've kept me as sane as I've ever been and I keep you alive so..." He trails off but Sam gets it.

They have a give and take friendship that's solid as they come. They can get on each others nerves and do so all the time what with Gabriel's special brand of childish tendencies and Sam neurotic OCD but at the end of the day(or bright and early morning) they're best friends and that says it all.

Sam takes another sip of his coffee and goes back to studying as Gabriel settles his head on his arms on the table to nap for a while, as usual. He looks at Gabriel's messy mop of amber, brown hair and smiles. He thinks of his coffee, how much of a life line it is and is reminded of something he'd read once. It seems extremely appropriate for the moment so he grabs a napkin and writes it down.

A good coffee is like friendship. Rich, warm and strong.

Sam folds the cloth up and sticks it in his back pocket. He thinks maybe later he'll tape it Gabriel's bathroom mirror next time he's over. Gabriel would appreciate the double meaning.

[mangacrack.livejournal.com]

Highlander, Methos,

There is no meaning to our world.
There is no meaning to those of us living there.
We meaningless beings ponder the world,
Though realization of the meaninglessness itself means nothing.

Methos, first person, the length of a life

[tigriswolf]

Live five hundred years, kid, and you'll learn how short life is.

Live a thousand, twice that, three times more - you'll learn how nothing ever really changes.

Live four thousand, five... you get so tired, kid. So tired.

Live longer. Well. No one can live longer, right? Who ever heard tell of the man who lived ten thousand years, or a hundred thousand - or, impossibly, a million?

Not possible. Of course not. That long would drive a man, a woman, anything mad.

So live your five hundred years. See how short life is. Watch out for those who would steal your head, for a paltry few decades more.

Five thousand... no one can live longer that. Of course not. Such longevity... why it would drive someone mad, and those who are mad die quickly.

Don’t they, kid? Of course they do.

[nevcolleil.livejournal.com]

Any, any, personification

[love-evil.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Crowley, The Hell Hound's bark is worse than it's bite - honestly!

Filled

[truthwritaslies.livejournal.com]

It was a chilling sound.

Deeper than the largest dog you'd ever heard bark in your life. Filled with a wildness that made wolves sound tame and a maliciousness that made one think about the state of one's immortal soul.

It ended with the thing clamping it's massive jaws aroud Crowley's wrist.

It's massive, toothless jaws.

"Aww Sophia, who's daddies favorite little hellhound? You are!" He cooed scratching her behind the ears and kissing her nose. "Who wants to go walkies?"

Crowley stood and with a pop they were standing outside a diner.

Sam and Dean were just getting out of their car when they spotted him.

They advanced, hurling insults and threats until Crowley signaled Sophia.

The first bark had Dean jerking back in fright. The first howl had him nearly wetting his pants.

Crowley smirked.

"Her bark is worse than her bite, boys...Honestly." He said.

It still didn't take the Winchesters long to decide to eat somewhere else.

[truthwritaslies.livejournal.com]

Spn, Sam +/ Lucifer, Colder than a witch's tit in a brass corset.

fill

[love-evil.livejournal.com]

It's snowing, and Sam is shivering as he waits for Dean and the revitalizing coffee he left to find nearly an hour ago. He prays his brother will return soon because if he doesn't then Sam is going back to the warmth of his motel room, the man-eating snow monster be damned. It's colder than a witch's tit in a brass corset, and he has no intention of standing there like an idiot until he gets frostbite.

A quiet chuckle heralds the arrival of Sam's mind-mate. Lucifer sits on top of the snow that rests just below Sam's knees as if it were solid wood. The fallen angel smirks as he asks, "Have you ever seen a witch's tit Sam?"

Sam ignores him and focuses on the bleak white horizon.

"I have. When I walked the earth a coven summoned me in order to help them spread chaos. I think they were rather surprised when I actually appeared to them. They were mostly novices and ran away screaming, but one of them stayed. She offered herself up to me, asked me to give her the greatest honor imaginable."

Sam tries not to get drawn into the tale, but he can't help asking, "Did you?"

Lucifer's eyes sparkle with satisfaction. "No, I killed her, but not before she bared herself to me. I think she would certainly have conformed to your brother's standards of beauty. But not yours; you have very different tastes don't you Sam?"

"What are you talking about?" Sam asks, not liking Lucifer's tone in the slightest.

Lucifer stands gracefully and moves himself into Sam's personal space. "I'm in your head Sammy, I know all your secrets," he says before leaning forward, his lips inches from Sam's.

Sam recoils, his heart pounding and his face flushing. He stares at Lucifer in horror; the fallen angel simply smiles patiently before disappearing. Sam continues to stare at the place Lucifer was standing for several minutes. He then decides that he's had enough, and heads back to the motel room.

[love-evil.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Crowley/Cas, "Maybe it would be easier if I just bought you a book of metaphors."

A Snowball's Chance

[hobnailedboots.livejournal.com]

I can't help it. Every fic I write with Crowley in it must apparently also have a Good Omens reference.

~

"I expected it to be ... warmer."

Crowley laughed. "None of that fire and brimstone malarkey here. No, I'm as snug as a bug in a rug. Though we perhaps up the temperature a bit in the eternal elevator. I do love to see them squirm."

"As a bug--"

"In a rug. Honestly, Castiel. You've been topside for how long now? Perhaps I should buy you a book of metaphors." Crowley removed his feet from the desk behind which he sat, and scooted forwards on his chair. He picked up a glass of something light brown which Castiel presumed to be alcohol. "I could hook you up. I know a guy."

"I believe that was a simile," Castiel said.

"You're insufferable. Is there any reason why you're here, other than to inflict your lack of cultural awareness on me?"

Castiel hesitated. He had come to end their partnership, to try and fight the other angels with ideas rather than ill-gotten souls. Castiel remembered the vessels Raphael had coerced into consent and then sent after him as spies, and realised perhaps that he was naive about more than imagery.

"No," he said. "I was merely, uh, checking ... on?"

"In. Checking in." Crowley did not look convinced, but neither did he pursue the matter. "Run along, then."

Castiel walked steadily and slowly out of Hell's boardroom, pace unchanged even when Crowley began to chuckle behind him.

[truthwritaslies.livejournal.com]

Any, Any+/Any, "You said he was barking mad but I've been watching him for ages and I haven't seen him bark once."

'Misunderstandings,' Good Omens; Aziraphale, Crowley, and Adam Young

[aceofannwn.livejournal.com]

Neither of them really wanted to go over and ask, but one of them was going to have to. Aziraphale had tried to manipulate Crowley into doing it, but Crowley was excellent at guilting Aziraphale into things that he didn't want to do, so in the end it was Aziraphale who approached, rather tentatively.

"Adam." Adam Young was still sitting where he'd been for the last hour and a half, watching the (by now) extremely nervous cafe owner with his entire attention. Few things were more terrible than being the object of Adam's undivided attention. "What are you doing?"

"Watching Mr Draper. Mr Crowley said he was barking mad," Adam explained easily, "but I've been watching him for ages, and I haven't seen him bark once."

He looked back at Mr Draper.

Aziraphale thought about this, and tried to think of a tactful way to point out to the Antichrist (the exceedingly powerful Antichrist capable of erasing you from reality, if he felt so inclined) that he had slightly misunderstood Crowley's meaning.

"Crowley didn't mean it literally," he said eventually. "He was speaking figuratively, my dear."

"Oh." To Aziraphale's relief, Adam absorbed this without any apparent feelings of chagrin or annoyance. But his relief was short-lived, because Adam then added thoughtfully, "Think he'd be more interesting if he was barking."

The world changed...

Later on, Crowley patted his shoulder sympathetically.

"Look at it this way, angel," he said philisophically. "At least he's going to have a lot more customers. A man who only barks like a dog, in a small town like that? People'll come for miles."

"That poor man," Aziraphale mourned, shaking his head.

[mangacrack.livejournal.com]

any, any, "I like you. People say I’ve got no taste, but I like you."

[mangacrack.livejournal.com]

any, any + any, If you can’t live without me, Why aren’t you dead yet?

[mangacrack.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Sam and/or Gabriel, I am in my own little world but it's okay they know me here.

Must Be a Tuesday

[xpnkitty.livejournal.com]

Sam's world has been reduced to the span of twenty four lonely hours, and it's not okay.

He's crawling up the walls, trying to escape, but no matter what it always comes down to this. Dean dies, and Sam's world starts all over again.

He knows everything about it, the way he used to memorize the levels of Dean's video games - the ones hidden from dad at the back of the closet under his duffle. He knows every combination, every permutation that can possibly occur, and he's lived them all. He knows every member of Broward county, even the ones just visiting for the day, because in his world, they never leave.

He knows everything about them, and yet they know nothing about him.

His world is a lonely place, and every day it resets just to start the torture all over again.

The kind of torture that might be mistaken as fun at first, after the horror of Dean's death ceases to be novel - by Sam's count, about thirty years worth of miserable, frantic Tuesdays - and he starts to explore.

Sam learns which buttons to push when dealing with people, amuses himself by finding out about Dean's secret panty kink that Sam would never let him live down. That is, if he could get out of here.

There's only so much novelty that can be found in a town's worth of secrets, and only so much messing around that he can do before Sam starts to slip.

It's a niggling feeling at the back of his brain that won't leave him alone. It's a constant mantra of 'useless', 'worthless', 'meaningless' that fills the silence where emotions used to be. Now, when Dean dies, Sam's completely beyond caring. In fact, he's starting to wish it would stick, if only this would be over.

He hates himself for thinking it, and commits suicide for a week in a row before giving up on that too.

He goes on a killing spree in town. Just takes a gun and lets loose, because he can. Why the hell not?

They're all back the next god forsaken Tuesday, and he does it all over again. Dean freaks out and says he's insane, but he hasn't lived through two millennia of these morons running him over, stealing each other's wallets, and perving on anything that'll stay still long enough.

He makes the mistake of telling Dean what he'd like to do to every single stupid townsperson one day. His poor doomed brother. Dean looks at him like he's grown three heads, pulls out the holy water, and tells Sam he's going crazy. And huh, maybe he is.

One glorious day not too long after, he warrants a poster warning the citizens to be on the lookout, because he's "a criminally insane mass murderer". It took forever to figure out how to do that in only a single day. Just for fun, to celebrate, he walks the streets and lets the police gun him down.

For a moment, when the bullets start to tear into him, Sam feels alive again.

And then it's Tuesday.

[truthwritaslies.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Elliot, Gotta see a man about a horse...

[jadaryl.livejournal.com]

Eliot stormed out of the room, muttering under his breath.

"What was that, Eliot?" Nate called after him.

"I said I gotta see a man about a horse, Dad."

"They have horses in Boston?" Parker asked as she bounced up to him.

"No, Parker!" He didn't understand why his adopted sister just didn't get things sometimes. Alec didn't have that problem. "They don't have horses in Boston. It's a city. There's nowhere to pasture them. It'd be cruel."

"But you said you were gonna see a man about a horse."

Eliot sighed and rubbed hand over his eyes. "Not a literal horse, Parker!"

"But--"

"Look, I'll explain when I get back. I don't have time now. If you can't wait that long, ask Dad." Of course Nate would probably read him the riot act for yelling at her when he got back. He sighed as he grabbed his jacket and ran out of the house.

[badgerling.livejournal.com]

Stargate SG-1, Jack/Daniel, "It's a metaphor, Daniel." "Sounds more like a cliche."

[natural-blue-26.livejournal.com]

Animorphs, any, heroes live forever but legends never die

[natural-blue-26.livejournal.com]

Any, any, abandon hope all ye who enter here

[natural-blue-26.livejournal.com]

Firefly, Simon, winning his spurs and getting down to brass tacks

[natural-blue-26.livejournal.com]

Criminal Minds, any, crying over spilled milk

[nevcolleil.livejournal.com]

Criminal Minds, any, misinterpreting a figurative expression with hilarious results

[natural-blue-26.livejournal.com]

Any, any, green with envy

NCIS, McGee/Abby

[love-evil.livejournal.com]

McGee watches Abby leave with her date (a tall but skinny Engineering professor she bumped into buying groceries) and is green with envy. It's not so much the fact Abby is dating other men that bothers him, it's that they all seem to be just like him. He could understand if she went for someone with money, who drove a flash car and spent weekends with her in Paris. He could even understand her dating a military man who is silent and serious and knows 30 ways to kill a man with a toothbrush. But a geek who isn't lost when she babbles about science, who has forgotten more about computers than most people will ever know, who stumbles over his words because he's thrown by the fact that such a beautiful woman is interested in him...It makes him wonder why it isn't him holding her hand as they walk away into the sunset.

Hey, it's you! *waves*

[tigriswolf]

Inception/RED/White Collar, Neal&Arthur as Frank's twin sons, mad as hell

[tigriswolf]

Finding Nemo, author's choice, whale-road

*waves back*

[nevcolleil.livejournal.com]

Hosting is a lot of fun! Also, this is a great prompt :D I don't think I could do anything with it... But I love that you broke out a kenning for me!

[tigriswolf]

Highlander, Methos + author's choice, cold as Death

[tigriswolf]

Highlander/Supernatural, Methos + Death, "I haven't literally ridden a horse in years."

Fill: Accomplishments

[nevcolleil.livejournal.com]

"It's only a horse. You can't tell me you don't know how to ride one... You're the bloody 'pale horseman'."

"Of course I know how to do anything I might damned well please," Death responds, and lesser beings would quake at the ire in his glare.

But Methos has never considered himself a lesser being. More's the pity.

"But I don't please," Death continues. "I haven't literally ridden a horse in years." Three thousand, three-hundred and eighty-six to be exact. As soon as horse-drawn carriages became a more comfortable and yet equally efficient method of earth-bound travel as riding horseback, Death 'traded in' his 'spurs', as the mortals used to say. "Do you know what a saddle would do to the in-seam of these trousers?" Death laments.

The horses bridled before himself and his son paw at the ground, unperturbed.

Insoucient characters. Methos does love to surround himself with them. He'd get along just swimmingly with a certain Winchester in Death's acquaintance. In fact, if he were not Death, Death could nearly shudder at the thought of such a meeting.

"Do you know what that slop you made me eat the last time we met-"

"Watch your tongue, boy. That slop is the single greatest culinary accomplishment of the twenty-first century."

"-did to my stomach?" Methos asks, unimpressed by his father's dark stare. Glower all he wants, Methos will not credit the old man's love of greasy cheesesteak. "The least you can do is ride with me. The exercie will do you good."

It will not, as a matter of fact. Not that either exertion, or the absence of it, could ever do Death bad.

But falling off a horse doesn't help the old man's ego.

It certainly makes Methos laugh, though.