Monday - hurt/comfort
Feb. 27th, 2012 03:02 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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comment_ficGreeting, I'm ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
momma_66 and I'll be guest hosting this week. Our first theme is hurt/comfort; it's been tough (mayhem, peril, apocalyptic) and everyone needs a good snuggle. So go forth and hurt our characters and then give them a hug, please.
Rules:
No more than three prompts to a fandom
No more than five fandoms at a time
Leave at least three spaces for spoilers
Format for the codemonkeys:
Fandom, Character, prompt
Fandom, Character/Character, prompt
Fandom/Fandom, Character(s), prompt
If nothing catches your fancy here, give a lonely prompt some love. They need hugs too.
tag=hurt/comfort
momma_66 and I'll be guest hosting this week. Our first theme is hurt/comfort; it's been tough (mayhem, peril, apocalyptic) and everyone needs a good snuggle. So go forth and hurt our characters and then give them a hug, please. Rules:
No more than three prompts to a fandom
No more than five fandoms at a time
Leave at least three spaces for spoilers
Format for the codemonkeys:
Fandom, Character, prompt
Fandom, Character/Character, prompt
Fandom/Fandom, Character(s), prompt
If nothing catches your fancy here, give a lonely prompt some love. They need hugs too.
tag=hurt/comfort
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2012-02-27 08:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-27 08:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-27 08:51 am (UTC)Fill: Small Comforts, PG
Date: 2012-02-27 03:03 pm (UTC)1030 words
Re: Fill: Small Comforts, PG
From:Re: Fill: Small Comforts, PG
From:no subject
Date: 2012-02-27 11:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-27 11:10 am (UTC)Share a rain coat in the wind
They got my back until the end
no subject
Date: 2012-02-27 11:19 am (UTC)FILL: Remembrancer [The Demonata - Darren Shan, Bo, PG-13]
Date: 2014-12-08 03:05 pm (UTC)Of course she does.
Of course she does, how could she ever forget? The slaughter of Slawter, such a stupid name in hindsight, with death everywhere. Bodies strewn on the ground, guts wherever she looked and demons screeching from every corner. Her father, almost certainly dead and eaten by hell beasts. Her brother, almost definitely missing and never to return.
How could she ever forget? Her imprisonment, such a small term in hindsight, at the hands of the eight-armed monster. A castle of webs, a dungeon of terrors and the groans of the dying infiltrating her every moment. A young child, terrified and crying for its mother. An old crone, resigned but longing for the same.
How can she ever forget? The apocalypse, and she’s damn sure that there’ll be no hindsight here, all around them. A falling world, an army of terrified refugees and the loss of absolutely everything just waiting for the perfect moment. A resigned soldier, shrapnel already in his wounds but mind resolute. A terrified disciple, barely more than a child but already prepared to die.
All of them, already prepared to die.
She still remembers, and so she still wakes up hoarse from screaming. How could it be any other way?
no subject
Date: 2012-02-27 11:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-27 11:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-28 10:49 am (UTC)Dean knew that somehow they will make it, because a couple of crazy witches couldn’t get one on them, not after Armageddon and Heaven Civil War and Eve, and certainly not before Dean could shove it to Dick Roman. But still situation was worse than usual level of fuck upped. Helplessly Dean tried to tug again on the ropes that those bitches bound him with, but still no luck. But of course a sight of Sammy bleeding on some dirty floor was a motivation enough for Dean Winchester not to notice his own wounds and throbbing head.
- Sam!
- Noooo..., – he groaned and Dean’s heart broke a bit more and he doubled his efforts to free himself.
- No, - moaned Sam again weakly. - I don’t like them, - he added, voice stronger and sharper and for a second Dean couldn’t recognize his own brother in that casual remark.
- Sam? – he called, his left hand almost free. Almost. He threw a quick glance at witches brewing whatever they were concocting in the far corner of the barn.
- Go away, - pleaded Sam and that voice wrecked Dean all over again. - Sam, Sam, Sam…, - continued his brother and Dean started to freak out, because that? Wasn’t normal. - Haven’t you learned anything? – mocked Sam somebody and after a brief pause as if waiting for answer concluded: – And we were making such a good progress.
- Sam, what the hell?
- No, but seriously I really don’t like those witches, - said Sam not hearing Dean at all and curled further into himself. - They touched what is mine, Sam, - he continued, voice strong and cold, soon followed by a weak whimper. - Nothing you can do, - he reasoned with himself voice again brittle and frightened and Dean felt cold crippling to his hear.
- Sam, snap out of it. Sam! Come on!
- Well, that’s where you are wrong, - said conversationally his little brother and in a bright horrifying moment of clarity Dean remembered where he heard this cold calculating patronizing intonation. Not daring to believe in what he was seeing Dean still confused watched as Sam raised his right hand, not bothered by twisted wrist, and snapped his fingers. Half a second later all that was left from two witches where a couple of bloody spots.
- Son of a bitch.
Sam rolled over and moving his smashed lips smiled wildly:
- Hello, Dean.
(no subject)
From::)
From:Re: :)
From:no subject
Date: 2012-02-27 12:47 pm (UTC)from his heart
Date: 2012-02-28 03:37 pm (UTC)He's lying in a tent. Arthur's tent, Merlin thinks, gazing around his surroundings, feeling disorientated. He wracks his memory; the last he remembers is standing on the battle field, hands outstretched and roaring at the onslaught of soldiers flying towards him. Merlin sits up and raises a hand to his face.
His eyes had burned like the sun, and he'd been blinded by white. Then there had been nothing.
"You're awake."
Merlin's head jerks up. Arthur's standing in the entrance, staring at Merlin without a shred of emotion on his face. There's dried blood caked on his cheeks, and his once crimson cloak has been shredded so much the golden dragon can no longer be traced.
But it's Arthur, in one whole piece, and Merlin could die with happiness right then and there.
"And you're alive," Merlin says hoarsely; his throat is so dry, like he's slept for days. "What happened?"
Arthur doesn't answer him. He strides across the room, and before Merlin can protest, crushes him in a fierce embrace.
"Arthur," Merlin murmurs into Arthur's hair, tickling his chin. The King smells like death and blood, and he's alive.
"Merlin," Arthur whispers, and he sounds angry and relieved and devastated, all in one. "You're such an idiot. I thought I'd lost you."
Merlin smiles. "I thought I was going to lose you. It was worth it."
Arthur pulls back, steadying Merlin's shoulders with his tight grip. "Not if you had died," Arthur rasps, and Merlin feels Arthur's bones shaking through every point their bodies touch.
Merlin shrugs away out of Arthur's firm hold, then takes one of the King's hand in his. Arthur's palms are rough with dirt and callouses, but Merlin doesn't care. "My magic was made for you," he says softly, staring at their joined fingers. "It was made to protect you. It sings for you, Arthur. Only you."
Merlin doesn't have a lot left in him - he can feel how depleted he is, how weak, how much he's had to give to protect the man he loves - but there's enough to summon it from deep inside (from his heart), and the magic flows from Merlin's fingertips to run along the lines of Arthur's skin. Arthur closes his eyes, breathing out heavily when he feels Merlin's magic envelop him.
I love you, Merlin thinks, and Arthur hears him, louder than the sound of drums and weeping and men dying combined.
Re: from his heart
From:Re: from his heart
From:no subject
Date: 2012-02-27 01:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-27 01:35 pm (UTC)this may not be quite what you wanted - none of my previous 'verses, Arthur/Eames in the background
Date: 2012-03-01 05:22 pm (UTC)Arthur gives out his notice responsibly before disappearing: he lets everyone know he'll be out of contact for at least a month, and won't even be accepting calls for emergencies. He's taking personal time, and will not be bothered, and that includes Eames.
(Eames doesn't care about that. He shadows Arthur, and Arthur knows it.)
Arthur used to be named Aidan, and his brother is missing-presumed-dead. Brendan-became-Bryce-became-Neal-went-back-to-being-Bryce and fucking died, and Arthur wnts to know why. He needs to know why.
And Chuck, that silly little boy Bryce fell in love with and Neal couldn’t forget, was there. He was there when Brendan died, and Arthur will learn everything he knows, no matter what it takes.
Brendan wouldn’t want Chuck to come to harm, but Brendan’s fucking dead, so he gets no say at all.
.
Chuck’s a spy, like Bryce. He’s also a geek, and a dork, and so nice it burns. Arthur’s not used to nice. (Also, he can hear Eames laughing.)
Chuck’s earnest, and after he stares at Arthur for a long, awkward moment (and the gun Arthur’s holding), he slumps down, and he says, “I am so sorry,” and the damnedest thing is, Arthur believes him.
.
So, Chuck is actually a spy with a computer in his head (Bryce’s fault) and he knows far too many things about Arthur for Arthur to be comfortable with. But he won’t use the information against Arthur, because (for some insane reason) he thinks Arthur’s a good guy. (Eames is laughing again.)
“He talked about you, sometimes,” Chuck tells him. “He missed you.”
Arthur says nothing, but his hand is not on his gun.
.
When Chuck’s keepers come to his rescue (Arthur is not impressed, and Eames makes half a dozen snarky remarks before they’ve even cleared LA), Arthur is long gone.
He doesn’t have his brother’s body, but he knows exactly how and why Brendan died.
Chuck is still alive, because it would’ve have made Brendan’s death worthless if he wasn’t.
.
Arthur finishes out his month of vacation in New York. Burke is completely different from Chuck, but Arthur likes him a bit more, and Eames has fun finding and replacing his favorite pieces at the Met.
Finally, as the months draws to a close, Eames pulls Arthur into his arms and asks softly, “Will you tell me about him?”
Aidan and Brendan are both dead. But Arthur almost sees them, young and fierce and strong, as he tells Eames things no one has ever heard before.
.
(Casey is annoyed, and Sarah furious, but Chuck never does explain what happened in those four hours he was off-grid.
He’s alive. Because he knew Bryce so well, he knows what that means.)
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2012-02-27 02:10 pm (UTC)Glee, unrequited Karofsky/Kurt, Kurt picked up
no subject
Date: 2012-02-27 09:32 pm (UTC)He waits a while after Kurt leaves with his drunken, inattentive, douche of a boyfriend - waits until he's sure he won't run into the unpleasant sight of the two of them making out in the parking lot, or something equally likely to make him sick, not with the hatred and shame he used to feel, but with longing. Finally, a good half hour after the two oblivious boys left together, Dave gets up from his seat and heads for the door.
Tonight, being here just doesn't feel like fun anymore.
He winces a little at the sight of Kurt's Navigator, still parked a few short yards from the door, but swallows hard and squares his shoulders, quickening his pace as he hurries by.
A soft, broken little whimper makes him stop short, his breath freezing in his throat.
He knows that sound.
He's been the cause of that sound.
Against his better judgment, Dave turns toward the Navigator, hesitantly moving around it to the driver's side - stopping in stunned horror when he sees Kurt on the ground, huddled against the side of the car, the rear door open. The tears on Kurt's face shimmer in the soft illumination of the dome light - but his eyes are distant, barely comprehending.
He's clearly in shock.
He flinches as Dave's shadow passes over him, but Dave crouches down quickly, soft shushing murmurs escaping his lips without intention.
"It's okay," he whispers. "You're okay." He wills it to be so, though his heart is sinking, because he's not quite sure. "Kurt - what happened?"
Part 2
From:Re: Part 2
From:Re: Part 2
From:Re: Part 2
From:no subject
Date: 2012-02-27 02:12 pm (UTC)Avengers movieverse/Norse mythology, Steve + Loki, Steve learns what happened to Loki's kids and decides to help him find and/or save them
Fill
Date: 2012-09-23 01:51 pm (UTC)Re: Fill
From:no subject
Date: 2012-02-27 02:14 pm (UTC)Inception, Arthur/Eames, one of them tries to take the fall; the other doesn’t let him
it's our choice
Date: 2012-02-28 03:42 pm (UTC)"Like hell you are," Eames growls, fist tight as a noose around a neck on Arthur's wrist.
Arthur glares at Eames. "This isn't your choice."
Eames' eyes bore into Arthur's. Arthur can read exactly what he isn't saying.
It's our choice.
*
When Ariadne takes the fall, they lie in bed side by side, fully clothed, not touching.
Arthur's still in his suit, but that doesn't stop Eames from eventually erasing the miles between them, reaching across and pulling Arthur into him. Arthur goes without protest, weak limbed and pliant as Eames manhandles him to fit against him like a missing jigsaw puzzle.
"I'm not sorry," Eames whispers into Arthur's ear, arms tight and trembling around Arthur's waist.
Arthur's hand folds into Eames', and he clings on.
Re: it's our choice
From:Re: it's our choice
From:Re: it's our choice
From:no subject
Date: 2012-02-27 02:17 pm (UTC)Author’s choice, author’s choice, I brace myself cause I know it's going to hurt, but I like to think at least things can't get any worse
no subject
Date: 2012-03-08 04:38 am (UTC)Spoilers for end of book one]]
The alcohol is slowly killing him--or at least it should be. In reality, it's the only thing that has kept him alive for these last few decades.
He survived the deadly Hunger Games. He's mentored the hopeless District 12 Tributes while sipping a tin flask of moonshine. He drinks until their names and faces are a blur--until he's numb enough not to feel any pain when they eventually get slaughtered in the arena.
Now he knows loosing them was better. He has two Victors to watch over. Two young lives that will be ruined, just like his was.
The three of them will somehow make it through. He'll drink himself into a black hole. They'll pull him out and wipe away the vomit. He'll hold them until their tears stop.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2012-02-27 02:18 pm (UTC)Journey 2 the Mysterious Island, Hank/Sean, the island wasn’t there. Hank cushioned the blow.
no subject
Date: 2012-02-27 02:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-27 04:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-27 05:01 pm (UTC)there's nothing left (and still he gives more)
Date: 2012-02-28 03:56 pm (UTC)"Cas," Dean tries, and it doesn't come out right, throat dry and constricted with emotion he hadn't thought himself capable of.
"Do not blame yourself, Dean," Cas rasps, but he doesn't look up. "This is my choice."
Dean can't see them, but sometimes he thinks he glimpses a flash, for just a second. They're big and black and broken.
Dying, Cas had said.
"They are merely wings. They are not necessary." Those had been Cas' words once, when Dean had lain beside him, caressing his face in a moment of weak tenderness. But Dean had seen the darkness hidden behind Cas' eyes, a darkness Dean recognises in himself.
Lies.
I'm so sorry, Dean thinks, over and over, all the time, but he won't say them out loud. Cas wouldn't have it.
"Dean," Cas says, and he looks up at last. His eyes are so blue. "Come here."
Cas never demands. He always gives, gives until there's nothing left, and still he gives more. Dean goes to him.
When Cas pulls Dean down, takes his lips, and everything else with him, Dean closes his eyes and pretends that he isn't killing the angel he loves.
Re: there's nothing left (and still he gives more)
From:RE: there's nothing left (and still he gives more)
From:no subject
Date: 2012-02-27 05:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-27 05:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-27 05:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-27 05:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-27 05:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-27 05:47 pm (UTC)