Tisdag: Lets Get Lovecrafty!

[ravenspear.livejournal.com]

Hello again! This is ravenspear, back for another day of thrilling heroics guest hosting.

On this beautiful Tuesday, we're going to take a walk on the sanity-rending side. That's right, today's theme is Lovecraft! And don't worry, fandoms aren't limited to only H.P. Lovecraft's works, but prompts today have to have a decidedly Lovecraftian flair; dark gods, eldritch horrors, abominations from beyond space and time, and Things That Should Not Be. 

As usual, you have to follow the rules:
♥ No more than five "live" prompts at any time. If someone fills a prompt of yours, you may then prompt again.
♥ No more than three prompts from one fandom at a time.
♥ No spoilers in your prompt until at least one week after the original airing/publication date. If there are spoilers in your fic, warn in bold and leave at least three spaces.


And remember to honor our codemonkey overlords with proper prompt formatting:

Fandom; Character prompt
Fandom; Character/Character; prompt
Fandom/Fandom; Character(s)/Pairing(s); prompt

If you don't find any of the day's prompts to your liking, feel free to head on over to the Lonely Prompts Archive and make someone's day!

[theme tag=lovecraft]

Comments

Soft Chains of Dreaming

[icarus-chained.livejournal.com]

One slipped free. In mad despair, in desperate hope, she laid her head upon the rail, her foot upon the ledge. She slipped my chains, and spun herself free into the abyss. Not mine. No more mine. Begging for her love to follow her.

But he, but he. Ah, he. Not so easy, for him. Not so wise, so fierce, so desperate. Not so free. He gave to her the key, doubting in the dreaming, and she used it. But in giving to her, he was left with nothing. Though he clung to her, and held her hand, and gave to her whispering doubts, he could not hold her, and she could not tear him free.

And now. Oh, now. Ask a man about his dreaming. Ask a man what cities he builds, lost Carcosa, inside his head. Ask a man what strangers, what masks, what puppets, he makes to fill their empty streets, when she who loved him is gone, and all that is left to him are nameless cities, and the whispering echoes of my voice. Ask men what they dream. Ask me who they dream of.

The partner, the man, the totem clung to as the world falls shattered past, the false idol of reality that can never, that will never, leave him. The woman, the muse, the whisperer and the maker of mazes, she who leaves him shining threads, and convinces him which world is real, upon whom he places desperate and falsing hope. The potioner, the poisoner, the soft dripping of endless dreaming, the dark eyes in which he sees his endless slide to a limbo he cannot escape. The shapeshifter, the forger, the maker of faces, the dancing kaleidoscope that reminds him that every face is a mask, and every mask a face.

And her, and her. In every corner, in every level. Her echo, her form, her face. The chains, his children, the promise of freedom, her cry. Ever twisted, now. Ever false. Ever echoing.

She slipped her bonds, the woman. She slipped my chains. But he, but he. He never shall.

I never ask a man his business. I ask a man his dreams. And one and the same, regardless ... they fall to me.

[nevcolleil.livejournal.com]

Thank you for this :D It's so poetic and lovely :)

[icarus-chained.livejournal.com]

*smiles* Welcome, and thanks!

Re: Soft Chains of Dreaming

[sharpiesgal.livejournal.com]

Oooo...

Very good.

Re: Soft Chains of Dreaming

[icarus-chained.livejournal.com]

*ducks, smiles* Thank you.