Saturday Free For All
Aug. 11th, 2012 11:56 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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comment_ficWelcome to the weekend! Today anything goes so get those imaginations going. Any prompt in any fandom is welcome.
Please remember the rules:
No more than three prompts in one fandom or more than five prompts in a row.
No spoilers in prompts.
If your fill has spoilers, please warn and leave plenty of room.
Also, please keep the codemonkeys in mind when formatting your prompts. Examples:
Teen Wolf, Derek/Stiles, "So, this is awkward, right?"
Suits, Harvey/Mike, breathe
Percy Jackson & the Olympians, Percy/Nico, magic
Have fun!
Please remember the rules:
No more than three prompts in one fandom or more than five prompts in a row.
No spoilers in prompts.
If your fill has spoilers, please warn and leave plenty of room.
Also, please keep the codemonkeys in mind when formatting your prompts. Examples:
Teen Wolf, Derek/Stiles, "So, this is awkward, right?"
Suits, Harvey/Mike, breathe
Percy Jackson & the Olympians, Percy/Nico, magic
Have fun!
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no subject
Date: 2012-08-11 03:57 pm (UTC)Fill: Teen Wolf, Sterek, Rated PG Title: Awkward Moment
Date: 2012-08-13 04:21 am (UTC)“So, this is awkward, right?” Stiles joked as they broke apart.
Derek glanced sideways, eyes gleaming red, fighting to contain his wolf side. He wanted to answer Stiles, wanted to pass it all off as some misguided joke, but he couldn’t…
How could he when all he wanted was to do it again? Derek still felt the carnal desire coursing through his veins, burning him up inside, the heat of Stiles’ kiss barely cool upon his lips. Swallowing down his Alpha pride he turned to face him.
“Awkward… yeah… right…” He agreed his laughter shaky, right before they kissed again.
Re: Fill: Teen Wolf, Sterek, Rated PG Title: Awkward Moment
From:Re: Fill: Teen Wolf, Sterek, Rated PG Title: Awkward Moment
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Date: 2012-08-11 03:57 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2012-08-13 02:59 am (UTC)Roy wishes he’d seen Dick smile, like really smile, from his heart. Not the mask smile, the false smile, the smile for others to see.
Roy wishes he could see Dick fly. Because he wants to, because the feeling makes him laugh like the little kid he was. Not because someone has to be saved. Not for the mission but for himself.
Roy wishes he’s known Dick in his circus days. The last time Dick was truly happy. But he settles from making Dick forget himself, at least for a little while. Any way he can.
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Date: 2012-08-11 04:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-11 04:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-11 04:03 pm (UTC)I've lived in this place and I know all the faces - TJ, gen, mild language
Date: 2012-08-12 07:06 pm (UTC)Title from Rascal Flatts. TJ says 'fuck' a lot.
...
He's not - it's not like he doesn't think about being the good son, and he knows he could be doing something, and he does, he really fucking does miss the piano sometimes, and how it felt to make beautiful music and know it was coming from somewhere inside him, somewhere pure, somewhere golden -
His father was President of the United States. His mother is the most powerful woman in the world, and pretty soon she'll be the most powerful person, full-stop. His brother will probably one day be a POTUS, too, and he already gets shit done.
But TJ – Thomas, Tommy, the fuck-up black-sheep, he’s nothing. He fucks up and he’s fucked up, and he’s never dreamed as big as his family.
He plays the piano sometimes, and misses the days before the White House. He was a governor’s son, then, but no one cares about a governor’s children. Back then, no one knew his name.
He’d like to get clean, really he would. He’d like to make promises and know he could keep them, know his family trusted him. He’d like to turn to his brother and let Dougie handle all his shit, too, but he can’t – he can’t keep doing that to his brother. Dougie would die still trying to take care of TJ, and if either should die, it’s TJ.
Fuck, but TJ misses Sean so much it burns. Twice he tried to kill himself because of that man, because he knew he wasn’t good enough for Sean, wasn’t wholesome enough, wasn’t fucking female enough. He’d been so happy. The world had been so bright, brighter than any coke ever made it.
He plays the piano in his mother’s house, eighteen days clean (again) and he wants to let his mother hold him, let his brother hold him, even curl up in his dad’s arms or with Grandma on the couch – but he’s fucked up too much. They don’t trust him, and he doesn’t trust himself, and if he stays in this fucking city, he’ll never be able to be anyone else.
He daydreams about being the good son, the bright one, responsible and respectable, trusted. He wants to be trusted. Trustworthy.
His hands tremble on the keys, but the music never wavers.
TJ closes his eyes and lets the music take him where it wants, and it wells up inside him, beautiful and golden, like everything he’s not anymore.
He can’t – he wants to fall into someone’s arms and know everything will be okay.
He can’t stay in DC anymore.
Mom’s about to run for president again, and TJ just can’t -
TJ can’t.
He wants to live, and he can’t do that here, where everyone’s watching and waiting for his next fuck-up.
He doesn’t know how to say goodbye, and if he just vanishes Mom will tear apart the world looking, and it’ll hurt them all, he knows that, but it’ll hurt him more. A good hurt, maybe. A clean hurt. The ache that means healing.
His fingers still and the music stops and if he’s going to do this, he’s got to do it now.
“Deep breath, Tommy,” he whispers to that kid in the governor’s mansion, back when he was still young enough to be golden.
He opens his eyes, pushes back the bench, and stands.
He’ll never be the good son if he stays here. He’ll never get clean, he’ll never move on, he’ll never be happy in this fucking fishbowl of a town where everyone knows his name, and everyone knows every move he makes.
TJ doesn’t know how to say goodbye, but he walks away from the piano and knows that he has to. Knows that he will.
He holds his head high and goes to the stairs, because Mom and Grandma are home, and he has to say goodbye.
Re: I've lived in this place and I know all the faces - TJ, gen, mild language
From:Re: I've lived in this place and I know all the faces - TJ, gen, mild language
From:no subject
Date: 2012-08-11 04:05 pm (UTC)Some I'm kinda borrowing this idea from another prompt
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Date: 2012-08-11 04:13 pm (UTC)No Fic
Date: 2012-08-11 07:46 pm (UTC)If I would fill would you prefer the Swedish or British film version or the books?
Re: No Fic
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Date: 2012-08-11 04:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-11 04:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-11 04:21 pm (UTC)Fill
Date: 2014-12-29 03:52 am (UTC)Anger at lies lasts forever. Anger at truth can't last.
**********
He'd missed her. He'd so often thought of her, looked forward to seeing her again, spending time with her. It had kept him going on the loneliest nights. Yet dreams are one thing, reality is another. He was back and she was here, but things were not as he'd hoped.
“You should have told me.” Her voice was deep with accusation. She was angry, that much was obvious. Not that he could blame her.
“I know – I'm sorry. Bruce thought it was for the best, I couldn't disagree.” He couldn't quite meet her angry gaze.
She paced the room in erratic steps, stopping occasionally to run a hand through her hair until it was a tangled red mess. “Why not? You've gone against him before! You know there was no reason to keep it from us!”
He didn't have a good answer to that. She was right, really, it would have made little difference if a few people knew.
“Luthor knew, Dick. LUTHOR. But we couldn't?” She shook her head. “It wasn't right. I... thought better of you than that.”
He winced. That hurt. Then again, the truth often did. He sighed. “You're right. Sometimes I wish... I wish I had died. I think... it would have hurt less people that way.” At least then he wouldn't have put them through all this. Did anything hurt more than betrayal?
“No.” She looked up, her eyes burning bright with anger and something else. “Don't say that. No one is angry at you for being alive. I'm not angry with you for being alive.”
“Aren't you?” It didn't feel that way to him.
Her hand returned to her hair, fiddling almost anxiously with the strands. “Of course I'm not.” There was a long silence before she spoke again. “Not any more.”
“But you were,” he said quietly. Angry at him, just for being alive.
Barbara nodded, feeling bad for admitting it. “I was... because it was so cruel, Dick. It hurt so much. If you'd really been dead, what we went through – it would have meant something.”
What could he say to that? She was right and he hated it. He should have fought harder against Bruce, instead of just vanishing for over two years.
“I never wanted to hurt you. I... I care for you, Barbara. So much.”
She moved to stand in front of him, placing her hand on his chest. “I care about you too, Dick. I'm glad you're alive, truly I am. I just... don't know that I can ever forgive you.”
END
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Date: 2012-08-11 04:21 pm (UTC)FILL: A Place Called Home (New Amsterdam)
Date: 2012-08-12 05:58 pm (UTC)New York is an amazing place. You can experience practically anything in the world here. Taste foods from all over: spices from Tanzania, coffee from Peru, cheese from France, dried fruit from Israel. Find clothing in all shapes and styles: Indonesian batik, Persian scarves, Scottish wool, Vamberk lace. And there are so many languages to listen to, with more arriving every day.
It is everything anyone could want. Vibrant and colorful and violent and carefree.
And John loves it.
Except....
Sometimes he closes his eyes he still sees horse-drawn wagons on dirt streets, hears rough Dutch, and longs for home.
Re: FILL: A Place Called Home (New Amsterdam)
From:no subject
Date: 2012-08-11 04:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-11 04:24 pm (UTC)