Torsdag: Rarepairs
Mar. 29th, 2012 04:08 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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ravenspear, guest hosting for grate justice.
Today is Thursday (yay, almost weekend!), and today our theme is going to be Rarepairs. No popular pairings allowed, so show your favorite rare- and crackpairings some love. <3
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:
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=rarepairs]
ravenspear, guest hosting for grate justice.Today is Thursday (yay, almost weekend!), and today our theme is going to be Rarepairs. No popular pairings allowed, so show your favorite rare- and crackpairings some love. <3
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=rarepairs]
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no subject
Date: 2012-03-29 02:17 pm (UTC)Filled
Date: 2012-04-03 09:09 am (UTC)He puts on his best smile and sidles up to the guy.
"Ryan Wolfe" He says, holding out a hand. "Can I help you?"
"Tony DiNozzo" The guy replies and, god, his smile is to die for. "Can you tell me where I can find Tim Speedle? We were supposed to get together for drinks while I was here, catch up on old times y'know? But He hasn't answered his phone and he wasn't at his house."
At the first mention of that name the smile falls from Ryan's face. Tony apparently notices because the end of his sentence comes out almost on autopilot, like his mouth kept going while his mind raced to find te correct conclusion.
Ryan's never done an inform before and he knows that this one is going to kill any chance he might have had. He takes a deep breath.
"Ryan's dead, isn't he?" Tony's voice is completely flat, making the question into a statement.
"Yeah... I'm sorry." Ryan says.
"I...Yeah... I'm gonna go." Tony says before fitting deed to word.
A few days later Ryan finds a photo in his desk drawer, one that someone must have missed when they cleaned it out.It paints a far differant picture of Tony and Tim's relationship than what Tony gave him.
no subject
Date: 2012-03-29 02:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-29 02:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-29 02:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-29 02:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-30 03:04 am (UTC)Aziraphale is still surprised by Dean’s hard kisses, too used to a thousand years of Crowley’s smooth manner, gentle easy kisses teasing and tempting and arousing him into making the effort. Dean’s just a replacement, because after six thousand years of knowing Crowley, after a thousand years of grooming each other’s wings knowing each other in the biblical sense, he couldn’t stand having to face the world alone.
Dean knows he’s just a substitute. For Crowley. Which, kinda sucks, but he can’t bring himself to stop. Aziraphale needs him, and more than that, he needs Aziraphale. He’d gotten used to Cas, the quiet ruffle of feathers every time the angel visited. The fondness in every single eye roll. Every time an idiom got a deadpan look and a confused question. Not having to hold back to be gentle and afraid of breaking him, like every girl he’d ever had. He’d never have been able to hurt Cas, not in a million years; Cas who turned his head when he got punched to be polite. Dean needed his angel. But, lacking that, an angel who needed him would do.
So they fucked, in hopes of filling the void.
(Sorry if this isn't quite what you were looking for; this is my first time posting)
(no subject)
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Date: 2012-03-29 02:40 pm (UTC)Fill: And in my best behavior, I am really just like him - Merlin - Merlin/Mordred
Date: 2012-03-30 01:16 am (UTC)I made a separate post for it because I know there's some mistakes out there that I haven't caught.
I hope you like it. :)
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Date: 2012-03-29 02:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-29 02:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-29 02:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-29 02:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-29 02:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-29 03:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-29 03:03 pm (UTC)Sans Merci
Date: 2012-03-29 04:58 pm (UTC)Jareth, pale hands resting on the chairback beside her head, looked down at her. At the flickers, pain and guilt and shame and fear, flickering behind the amused defiance in her eyes. He raised a cool eyebrow. "And how do you know they're not there?" he asked, soft and gentle as a blade, and smiled, perhaps a little sadly, as she closed her eyes.
"I never left, did I," Diana Reid said softly. Not a question. Not for him. "All those years. That magic. I never left."
He touched her hair. Gently. Sadly. "We are cruel, the Fae," he murmured softly, to her upturned face, her closed eyes. "Without effort, we are cruel. Some of you survive our touch. Others ... not so well."
She smiled, a faint, fierce little curve of her lip. Other human women he had known, their eyes had been the cruelty. From her, it was her mouth, its motions, and the words she hoarded there. He had ... quite loved her mouth, once upon a time.
"I beat you," she whispered. Looking inward behind bruised eyelids, at some inner landscape, of dreams, and mirrors, and fallen rooms, and the battles she had fought there. "I wrested him back from you. My child. He was not yours to take."
"No," Jareth agreed, softly. Not the child, no. Or not yet. But she didn't need to know that. He did not come to hurt her.
"He walks with monsters, my son," she said, suddenly, opening her eyes. Turning her head to glare at him, fierce, fighting challenge, pride. Her son, Spencer, named for a man who had drafted faeries to serve his own causes. "He walks among them, and slips inside them, and destroys them. He knows how to vanquish them."
He smiled, at that. A grin, something flashing, fierce, cruel, proud. Delighted. He smiled, fey, and all the more when what answered him was not fear, but proud defiance. Jareth smiled, and brushed her hair carefully from her face, the better to see the shining thing in her eyes. "Like his mother, then," he said, both tease and acknowledgement. Gentility, in his way.
"Ha," she snorted, batting at his hand. "No games, Goblin King. I'm too old for that. I lost. I know I lost. I just ... didn't realise until too late." She looked up at him, and smiled, ruefully. Not hatefully. He was surprised, a little. So often, did they hate him, when they realised. "You slipped inside me long ago, didn't you. You won, before I ever left. And I ... didn't realise. Until ... so many years too late."
Until she had lost her husband. Until she had driven her son to despair in her illness, her madness, the silvered touch of fae across her mind. Until she had looked into the desperate, tormented eyes of her son as they came to take her away, and she had realised the depth of her loss, the magnitude of his victory. Until she had realised ... what she had sacrificed, those long years ago, to win her child from a faery's grasp.
"... Yes," he told her, yet gently. So very gently. "I won, Diana. You hunted, and you fought, and you wrested your child away. But I won, even still." A small, sharp smile, and he let his eyes be haunted, for a moment. He let her, just once, see. Because she was not as other women were, this Diana. She never had been. "It's what I do, dearest. I win."
She looked at him, something distant in her eyes, something soft and knowing. And then she turned, soft around a smile from that so deadly mouth, and rested her cheek against his hand.
"And lose," she whispered softly, eyes drifting closed. "Every time you win, you lose, don't you? My Goblin King."
And Jareth smiled, sharply, around the clenching in a chest that had never known a heart, where she had slipped inside him in her turn, so many years ago, and leaned down against the first touch of dawn to kiss her forehead, and murmur dreams of faerie magic to guide her sleep.
Re: Sans Merci
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From:no subject
Date: 2012-03-29 03:03 pm (UTC)Fill
Date: 2012-04-03 10:23 am (UTC)Who does the other Dean have to turn to? He can't be weak in front of all those guys and girls out there. And Cas... No. Despite the knowing look Cas had given him, the guilt is too much to dump this on him as well.
Even when Dean's back in his ownb time he's always so careful not to become known, not to let Sam see.
So he makes the offer: not in words but in flesh.
Kisses that hurt and fingers that bruise.
Punishment for everything he's done wrong, will do wrong. For failing Sam, failing Cas, failing Dad.
Sex just the bad side of painful and he'll be feeling it for days in both timelines but it doesn't matter. It's self-loathig brought to the extreme until it falls off the edge and comes full circle into the wrong end of forgiveness.
They rest in each others arms, understanding like no one has ever given them allowing them to seek comfort when they would never dare to before or again.
The peace was never meant to last, though, and they're arguing even as they pull their clothes on to try and save any tiny scrap of humanity they may come across.
Re: Fill
From:no subject
Date: 2012-03-29 03:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-29 03:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-29 03:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-29 03:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-29 03:08 pm (UTC)The Hunger Games, Katniss/Cinna, the news of his death broke something in her
filled. survivor's guilt
Date: 2012-03-30 10:40 pm (UTC)Cinna is dead and survivors guilt isn’t just an empty set of words on the chalkboard anymore. It’s not just something her mother says sadly as she comforts those lucky enough to escape the mine collapse. Now she knows it wasn’t luck and those aren’t just words detonating in her heart and pushing up to fill her throat with poison.
There aren’t enough tears to cry. Because Cinna will never hold her again, she’ll never hear his voice from the phone cradled in her pillow whispering of better tomorrows.
Because he’s dead.
Katniss’s hands are raw and bleeding when she scrabbles to open to the door to a supply closet. She doesn’t remember how that happened but her knuckles are busted red and her nails are stained. They’ll definitely think she’s crazy now, but Katniss can’t think about that as she pushes behind a mop and covers herself with spare bed sheets.
Because Capitol’s done it. She’s broken into jagged pieces and they’ve seared the edges so she’ll never fit back together again.
It turns out she was a bad bet after all. She laughs, hollow and awful, because there aren’t enough tears to cry.
no subject
Date: 2012-03-29 03:13 pm (UTC)FILL: Sins Of The Flesh (Castiel/Jimmy; NC17)
Date: 2012-03-29 09:09 pm (UTC)Sins Of The Flesh, ~2.3k, NC17, Castiel/Jimmy, background Castiel/Meg (just what's happened in canon).
ON LJ (http://truthgraphix.livejournal.com/60596.html) / ON AO3 (http://archiveofourown.org/works/371459)
Hope you like it :)
Re: FILL: Sins Of The Flesh (Castiel/Jimmy; NC17)
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Date: 2012-03-29 03:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-29 03:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-29 03:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-29 03:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-29 03:38 pm (UTC)