Friday: Free for All
Dec. 9th, 2011 04:31 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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comment_ficGah! I'm so sorry I forgot to post this last night before bed. We had guests over pretty late and it just completely slipped my mind. :facepalms: Our other mods have already started traveling so I'm really, really sorry.
Keep to the usual rules. It's our usual Free For All, so all fandoms and prompts are welcome today.
Keep to the usual rules. It's our usual Free For All, so all fandoms and prompts are welcome today.
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no subject
Date: 2011-12-09 10:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-09 10:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-09 10:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-09 10:46 pm (UTC)FILL!
Date: 2015-08-07 08:52 pm (UTC)Sam use to be strong. He is not anymore. His world is not as bright as it once was, if it ever was sparkling. Darkness has always been his friends, the monsters and devils lurking in the shadows, but somehow this is different. Sam use to wake up gasping for air after a nightmare, his shirt soaked through with sweat and clinging to sun kissed skin. However, he doesn’t dream these days because he hardly sleeps. The hurt and sadness leaves him dreamless.
Dean runs his finger tips slowly over Sam’s soft cheek, before he leans in close and kisses his warm skin. Sam blinks wet tears, but he does not stay a word...he has not spoken in a very long time. His cheeks are wet with tears and his expression saddens, his sun kissed skin now pale while his once muscular body is thin and fragile.
This was not the man Dean knew--this was a hollow husk filled with pain and lonely, grief. The boy who worshiped him and followed him around, studying him and trying to be just like him, had become still and silent, no longer a bundle of bouncing energy or a radiant smile that made his dimples twinkle.
It broke Dean’s heart to see Sam so shattered; that was his baby brother, the man he had protected and kept safe all his life. That was also the boy who he had raised, seeing to it that Sam was always dressed and fed, and taken care of. He had always saved Sam, but this time, he was fighting an ill evil he could not seem to win.
Hunting was a dangerous gig. Injuries were part of the job description. Cuts, bruises, broken bones…those were just a few of the wounds the Winchesters had suffered over the years. But this wound was not on the body, but the soul; twisted and mangled in the mind, a deep, longing sadness that could not be cured with kisses or hugs.
Sam doesn’t get out of bed anymore. He doesn’t speak, or hunt. Doesn’t show those beautiful dimples when he smiles. He once laughed, giggled even, like a carefree child, a long time ago. Now he is silent, and doesn’t speak.
Dean is hanging on by a thread with every day he watches Sam slip farther away; he could not lose Sam. He needed Sam here with him, talking and smiling, and laughing. He needed him responsive, put together. He thought Sam could just be happy, just smile and be in a good mood, but depression doesn’t work that way. It is not something you just ‘get over’. It is a hurt that sticks with you day and night, a pain that makes you wish to end you life for the chance at peace because death is so much simpler then living with this ache.
Sam lies in bed, eyes glassy with tears. Dean, broken hearted and feeling useless, climbs into bed with his brother and presses kisses to his forehead, on his soft lips, and his cheeks, cuddling Sam in the warmth of his loving embrace. Sam doesn’t show any reaction. Doesn’t laugh or smile, doesn’t cuddle closer. He remains motionless, trapped in a time of broken hearts and tears.
♥ END ♥
Re: FILL!
From:no subject
Date: 2011-12-09 10:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-09 10:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-09 10:50 pm (UTC)Title: Belonging
Date: 2011-12-10 02:13 am (UTC)He wishes he could, as the water comes up around him and he knows that he will die, with his vessel, though the Leviathans will end the world -- and he knows that Dean will do anything to stop them. He knows that Dean can't save him now, and is likely standing there at te edge of the lake, behind him. He doesn't blame Dean for letting him go.
Because he also knows that a mark burns on Dean's shoulder, and that he will always be remembered by him -- Dean will always, one way or another, be his, just as he has always been Dean's.
That is the final thought that runs through his mind before the water takes him, and he knows no more.
Re: Title: Belonging
From:no subject
Date: 2011-12-09 10:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-10 04:19 am (UTC)Dean doesn’t appreciate the pun. But he’s going to bite his tongue, channel his inner Sam and brownnose his heart out, because this one last desperate play might actually end up saving all their asses. “Anything else you need?”
“Well, a buddy of mind has been working on fixing up this old house, and the landscaping is next. Perhaps a shrubbery or two?”
Dean thinks about it for a moment before realizing –
Death’s lips twitch and he takes another swig of beer. “One that looks nice. Not too expensive. Perhaps something two-tiered?”
“Dude, Monty Python?”
Death cocks his head to the side, considers it, and drains the beer in one last gulp. “Nah.” He tosses the empty bottle back at Dean, turns away, and saunters into the night.
“I’ll get it myself,” he calls back, just before him and his trenchcoat fades out of sight.
Dean shakes his head. “I hope that means you’re holding up your end of the bargain,” he mutters. Then he climbs in the Impala and drives away from the crossroads in the opposite direction, rumble fading into the distance until all that’s left of their meeting is one bottle cap, carelessly dropped to the side, half-sunk in the sand and near-invisible in the dark.
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-12-09 10:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-09 10:56 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:Guardian Angel.
From:Re: Guardian Angel.
From:no subject
Date: 2011-12-09 10:54 pm (UTC)Title: Three
Date: 2011-12-10 02:25 am (UTC)Gabriel doesn't want to get involved, but he talks to Balthazar, who wants to be involved even less -- so Gabriel helps Sam when he dares, even after Dean starts hunting again. He gets the feeling that his return changes things, that his presence helps.
He and Sam shack up together, which really surprises no one, but he knows that something -- someone -- is missing, and Sammy's not all there. A couple of years ago, he would've thought it would be Dean, but Dean and Cas are bound up tight in each other, even though they won't admit it, and Gabe knows that Sam wouldn't begrudge his brother that.
Then, Adam comes back, dirty and confused and with a spotty memory of Hell, and that's when it clicks in Gabriel's head -- Adam and Sam had to deal with Michael and Lucifer in the Cage, so of course...
Sam and Adam are awkward around each other for over two weeks, Adam lurking around Bobby's house because he has nowhere else to go and Sam seemingly unable to stay away but unable to get too close.
Gabriel decides that he's had enough of that, so he locks himself, Adam, and Sam in the Panic Room, and finally, finally they talk about it.
Then, Sam and Gabriel becomes Sam and Gabriel and Adam, and Gabriel can actually joke (to the pagan gods who don't hate him) that he's partaken of a "Winchesters: two for the price of one" sale. If he mentions it to either of them, Sam will smack him lightly, but Adam will laugh, and then Sam will laugh because Adam is laughing, and Gabriel feels that everything's all right.
Everything's all right.
Re: Title: Three
From:no subject
Date: 2011-12-09 10:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-09 10:57 pm (UTC)Fill: He knew what was what
Date: 2011-12-12 12:45 am (UTC)He didn't expect to ever grow old enough to drink legally so there was no reason to wait until then. It was the same rational that had him follow the guy with the sword. Sure, the man could kill Richie, but then so could a whole hell of a lot of other things, and he was curious. So there really wasn't much to lose but a lot to win in satisfying his curiosity.
As it turned out, there was more to win than he had ever dreamed of. There was a home, and a job, and a pair of almost-parents. There was art and Paris.
It was a miracle, that kept on getting more miraculous because even when he did die, still too young to drink beer legally in the United States, it still kept going.
There were motorcycles and girls and an almost-father. There were secrets and tuxedos.
There was the promise of forever.
But there were also killers out to get him and fights to the death, and Richie was a street kid. He'd gotten a miracle twice now, getting off the street and surviving his own death. But surviving The Game would take whole new miracle and he knew what was what. He would try for three times the charm, but he didn't really expect to receive it.
He'd try his hardest, but he knew he'd been living on borrowed time since he first hit the streets.
It was still better than where he'd been before.
Re: Fill: He knew what was what
From:Re: Fill: He knew what was what
From:Re: Fill: He knew what was what
From:Re: Fill: He knew what was what
From:no subject
Date: 2011-12-09 10:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-09 10:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-09 10:59 pm (UTC)Title: Reunion
Date: 2011-12-10 02:33 am (UTC)But here they are. They don't know why, but they are both here, both alive, and there's a lead on the Leviathans that Sam's looking into, and it's all so ridiculously familiar that Castiel isn't sure what to do next. So much has changed below the surface; he doesn't know whether he can fix this, fix what he had said wasn't broken in the first place.
"Dean," he finally says, voice hoarse.
Dean nods. It's a little nod, barely perceptible, but it's more than enough to say, Yeah, we can do this. And then it's Dean who takes the first tentative step toward him from the other side of the room.
Castiel is rooted to the spot by fear born of so much time spent longing, but Dean makes it to him and stands within his space.
The kiss that comes is like coming home.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-12-09 10:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-09 11:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-09 11:23 pm (UTC)Once More With Meaning (PG, Torchwood)
Date: 2011-12-11 02:33 am (UTC)They’ve tried to understand her. At one point, when she’d been speaking in alien tongues, he swears that Jack actually had, but then she’d danced from one language to the next, on and on, searching for the ones that no one could follow. Maybe she was just trying out the novelty of it, the feel of every language on her lips, but she settles on the ones they find incomprehensible so he thinks that maybe she doesn’t want to be understood.
She can still understand them, though. She just can’t seem to speak or write their language anymore, as if a switch in her brain has been thrown to change her into a translating machine – input English, output anything else but.
Upstairs Ianto is calmly going through everything that she’s worked with recently, his hands encased in latex gloves and a mask shielding his nose and mouth. Upstairs Gwen is going through every contact that she’s had, human, alien, or other. Upstairs Jack is going through the commands that she’s assaulted the mainframe with, that she hadn’t stopped assaulting it with until Jack had made her, easily overpowering her and putting her in the cells for safekeeping, until they can figure out what those commands were, what she was doing, if she’s changed in more ways than the obvious. Until they can figure out if she’s dangerous.
She sings as she covers the walls of her cell and he watches her, through the transparent wall and the writing on it, wondering if she’s transcribing what she’s singing, or just scribbling a recipe for her favourite meal, a plan to take over the world, a how to guide for the mainframe.
They’ve never tried to really understand her before; that’s the problem. They don’t know her well enough to communicate without words, to know what the twist of her lips or raised eyebrows might say, or to know what actions are hers or due to another agency. They can’t know if she’s still her unless they hear her say it, unless they hear and can understand.
He doesn’t know if he wants to understand her, to know for sure that she isn’t herself. He would know then that they’ve lost her, and he hates losing people.
He doesn’t know if he wants to understand her, to know for sure that she is. He would have made a connection then, reached out, and he doesn’t need that. He’s had enough of clever women who light up when they make a discovery and have eyes for nothing else, who are beautiful and competent and could own the world if they cared to, who smile at him just so. The universe has a way of balancing out the good of people like that and he couldn’t take being there again for that.
He steps forward, placing both hands on the (mostly still) see-through cell wall and resting his forehead against it, touching her languages from the other side.
“Tosh,” says Owen experimentally, making her name a question.
She pauses for a moment to look at him and he looks back but he doesn’t know what he’s seeing. Then she looks away. She sings pieces from various operas in the original language and covers her cell walls in words and symbols that have no meaning for anyone but her.
No one had known that she even listened to opera.
no subject
Date: 2011-12-09 11:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-09 11:32 pm (UTC)Out of the darkness and into the light
'Cause I have faith in you
That you're gonna make it through another night" -Nickelback Lullaby
no subject
Date: 2011-12-09 11:36 pm (UTC)Something along the lines of Jared making Jensen keep.. and wear the costume. :D
no subject
Date: 2011-12-09 11:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-09 11:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-09 11:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-09 11:41 pm (UTC)Fill
Date: 2011-12-10 07:31 am (UTC)"Danno!" Grace called. "Pick me up."
Danny did, silently groaning about how much she weighed compared to last year.
Grace put her home-made star on the topmost brach. It tilted horribly but no one pointed it out as they took in the whole thing.
It was one of the ugliest trees he'd ever seen in his life but Steve was happy with it and more importantly, so was Grace.
"I'll get you for the pineapples later." he muttered to Steve.
For his part Steve just threw him a smirk and a wink before picking Grace up and throwing her over his shoulder in a classic fireman's carry before carrying her, shrieking with laughter, into the kitchen to make christmas cookies.
Re: Fill
From: