Monday: Confession
Aug. 20th, 2012 03:48 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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comment_ficHello, this is ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
roslindi and I will be guest hosting this week.
"acknowledgement; avowal; admission": Everyone has secrets, but not everyone must acknowledge them. Whether it's a little secret, such as breaking a dish and blaming it on a younger sibling (guilty), or committing a string of felonies under the assumed name Limone J'Ello (no comment), make your character confess something (even if it is only to him or herself).
Rules:
Fandom, Character(/Character or + Character), prompt
Examples:
Inception, Arthur/Eames, they're so used to stealing secrets it comes as a shock when they don't have to
White Collar, any, I want to tell you this story without having to confess anything (Richard Siken)
The Avengers, Bruce/+any, someone ate his CLEARLY LABELLED leftovers. HULK IS NOT AMUSED.
roslindi and I will be guest hosting this week. "acknowledgement; avowal; admission": Everyone has secrets, but not everyone must acknowledge them. Whether it's a little secret, such as breaking a dish and blaming it on a younger sibling (guilty), or committing a string of felonies under the assumed name Limone J'Ello (no comment), make your character confess something (even if it is only to him or herself).
Rules:
- no more than 3 prompts to a fandom
- no more than 5 unfilled prompts in a row
- no spoilers in the prompts
- if the fill contains spoilers, warn for them and leave space
Fandom, Character(/Character or + Character), prompt
Examples:
Inception, Arthur/Eames, they're so used to stealing secrets it comes as a shock when they don't have to
White Collar, any, I want to tell you this story without having to confess anything (Richard Siken)
The Avengers, Bruce/+any, someone ate his CLEARLY LABELLED leftovers. HULK IS NOT AMUSED.
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no subject
Date: 2012-08-20 09:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-20 09:13 pm (UTC)no fill
Date: 2012-08-20 09:39 pm (UTC)Re: no fill
From:Re: no fill
From:Re: no fill
From:MCU Fill: Redacted
From:Re: MCU Fill: Redacted
From:Re: MCU Fill: Redacted
From:Re: MCU Fill: Redacted
From:Re: MCU Fill: Redacted
From:Re: MCU Fill: Redacted
From:Re: MCU Fill: Redacted
From:no subject
Date: 2012-08-20 09:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-20 09:40 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:Fill - Purposefully Lost
From:“You are aware the proper pronunciation is ‘kel-tic’, not ‘sel-tic’.”
From:Re: “You are aware the proper pronunciation is ‘kel-tic’, not ‘sel-tic’.”
From:Re: “You are aware the proper pronunciation is ‘kel-tic’, not ‘sel-tic’.”
From:Re: “You are aware the proper pronunciation is ‘kel-tic’, not ‘sel-tic’.”
From:Re: “You are aware the proper pronunciation is ‘kel-tic’, not ‘sel-tic’.”
From:Re: “You are aware the proper pronunciation is ‘kel-tic’, not ‘sel-tic’.”
From:Re: “You are aware the proper pronunciation is ‘kel-tic’, not ‘sel-tic’.”
From:no subject
Date: 2012-08-20 09:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-21 06:03 am (UTC)"You don't know everything, you jerk!" Sam spat as he stomped through the doorway with all the outrage a six-year-old could possibly muster.
"I don't need to know everything to know I know more than you!" Dean retorted, voice just as loud as his little brother's, if slightly less grating.
One of these days, Bobby was going to refuse to watch John's boys. Really. Little brats weren't endearing at all the majority of the time.
"All right, ya idjits, what seems to be the trouble here?"
Bobby immediately regretted not addressing his question to a single, specific idjit at a time when Sam and Dean both decided to answer at once, at volumes totally unsuited to an indoor setting.
"Quiet!" he snapped, silencing them. At least they followed commands well--probably the only thing John Winchester had instilled successfully. Bobby didn't figure it would last through teenagerdom.
"Dean," he began again, let it never be said Bobby Singer didn't learn from his mistakes, "what's goin' on here?"
"Sammy's a moron."
"Hey!"
Well, that was constructive.
"Why would you say that, Dean?" He wasn't sure why he bothered to ask; he was fairly certain it was something stupid.
"Uncle Bobby," Dean answered solemnly, "he believes in the tooth fairy." Apparently, things could not be worse if Sam had just gone on some kind of murderous rampage.
Bobby internally cursed Dean's almost total lack of a childhood of his own. The older WInchester boy was protective of his sibling's innocence in regards to many things, but in others, there was no quarter given for fantasy.
"I tripped while we were out playing, and my tooth came out!" Sam declared, simultaneously displaying the tiny tooth he had until now held clenched in one palm and pointing to the gap with the index finger of his other hand. "I'm gonna put it under my pillow for the tooth fairy."
"The tooth fairy isn't real!" Dean snarled. "It's a stupid lie people tell stupid kids!"
"Nuh uh!" Sam hollered back. "I got a dime under my pillow for the other tooth I lost last week!"
Dean looked stunned for a brief moment before turning to Bobby with a look of utter betrayal. Sam must not have seen the change in expression, since he was now looking pleadingly at Bobby as well.
"Tell him, Uncle Bobby! You know about all kinds of things! Tell him she's real!"
This was certainly a pretty pickle! No matter how he answered, someone was going to be crushed. He decided the truth was the lesser evil. After all, Sam was likely to catch on that it was unusual for the tooth fairy to only visit him when he was at Bobby's. The kid was pretty sharp.
"Actually, Sam, it's like this..." Sam's kicked puppy look hurt, but the switch of Dean's expression from disappointment to respectful gratitude was worth it.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2012-08-20 09:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-20 09:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-20 09:15 pm (UTC)no fic
Date: 2012-08-21 02:07 pm (UTC)If I remembered enough to have a handle on the Ellimist's character, I might write this with either movieverse!Loki or Methos. I might end up adding it to 'a taste of lightning' anyway. Hmm...
Re: no fic
From:(no subject)
From:“Is it a bad thing to be made?” 'Not as bad as it is to be unmade.'
From:Re: “Is it a bad thing to be made?” 'Not as bad as it is to be unmade.'
From:no subject
Date: 2012-08-20 09:16 pm (UTC)MINE!
Date: 2012-08-20 10:26 pm (UTC)"Grazie, Leonardo. I have another Codex page for you," Ezio murmured.
"How exciting!" Leonardo bounced on his heels and took the ancient document straight away. "Would you care to eat while I work, amico?"
"No thank you, Leonardo. I ... have little appetite lately," Ezio said softly.
"Ezio? Are you quite well? You do not seem like yourself,"Leonardo returned to Ezio, abandoning the Codex page without a second thought. He reached for Ezio's forehead, as if to feel for fever as a mother might. Ezio jerked back.
"I am well, Leonardo, just... Just... Frustrated," Ezio confessed.
"In what way, Ezio? Perhaps I can be of help to you," Leonardo offered.
Ezio shrugged and looked away, embarrassed. "No, forgive me, Leonardo, it is... unimportant."
Leonardo's blue eyes regarded Ezio seriously for a long moment, before he smiled and clasped Ezio's shoulder. "If it would help you to talk, I am here. If it would help you to be distracted, I am still here. Whatever I can do for you, amico mio," he said with a smile.
"Grazie, Leonardo. Truly, I mean it."
The artist nodded and turned his attention back to the document. Ezio was too restless to sit and rest the way he had done when he had brought his Father's Page to be translated. Instead, Ezio meandered through the studio, looking at paintings and idly tracing lines of sketches with a lazy finger.
His unhappiness lay like an itch between his shoulder blades: unreachable and very much at the height of his awareness. Padre would know what to do about feeling like this, Ezio thought sadly, or Federico would have teased me into good humour. He sighed, softly, and muttered his brother's name.
"You miss him - miss all three of them, don't you?" Leonardo asked shrewdly, behind him.
Ezio stiffened briefly, then gave a minute nod. It wasn't a confession of weakness if the other man had guessed it, was it?
"I thought, with Claudia and Mother safe in Monteriggioni, and Uberto Alberti dead by my hand, it would hurt less," he muttered.
"It hurts more?" Leonardo asked gently, resting a comforting hand on Ezio's shoulder.
He gave a single nod.
"Capisco, Ezio. I do understand. The ... shock is worn off, and now all you can think of is what you want to tell them, how they would act or react in certain situations. Correct?" Leonardo spoke softly.
Again Ezio nodded. "I know they are gone, so why do I keep expecting to see Federico lounging against the walls teasing me, or Petruccio hanging out of a window to gather feathers? Or Father-" Ezio's voice broke, and he stopped speaking. He squeezed his eyes shut, and breathed deeply to stave off a sudden rush of tears.
"Simply for this reason, mi' amore, because you love them and they are a part of who you are, and you miss them," Leonardo said, softly.
"But they are gone, and their murderer is avenged," Ezio said, almost pleadingly. "I don't want to miss them anymore."
"I know. But they will always be gone. It will hurt less in time, but it does take time. And as long as you intend to exact vengeance upon those responsible, the wound will be fresh in your heart. I wish it were not so. I wish I could take your hurt and make it mine," Leonardo murmured gently.
"But you do so much for me already, Leonardo," Ezio protested.
"Love knows no burdens," Leonardo replied, with a wry smile.
Ezio smiled softly, almost shyly back at the artist, and leaned into him. He rested his head on Leonardo's shoulder and kissed the older man softly on the lips.
"Ti amo, Leonardo," Ezio murmured quietly.
"Ti amo, Ezio," Leonardo whispered against Ezio's lips.
Re: MINE!
From:Re: MINE!
From:no subject
Date: 2012-08-20 09:17 pm (UTC)Fill
Date: 2012-09-06 10:48 pm (UTC)It’s nice knowing someone would be sad if he died. It’s not that Shaun’s last wish is for a fleeting sense of Schadenfreude, he’s not that much of a selfish bastard. Besides, being dead is probably worse that a little grief so it’d hardly be a win in the long run.
It is a bit nice though, and a rather novel experience, to know that people care. During uni news of Shaun’s death probably would have caused joyous, drunken frolicking in most of his fellow students… he’d, er, made a bit of a bad impression during ‘Freshers’ Week’ and things had only gone downhill from there. And when he was kidnapped by Abstergo and then press-ganged into joining the Assassins he was given a sharp wake-up call when he realised how little his absence from his day-to-day life had affected anyone, how everything, everyone, had just carried on as normal minus Shaun Hastings.
So, yes, it was nice to know that his colleagues, his… friends, Rebecca, Lucy and most recently Desmond would mourn his death, would acknowledge it. And Shaun wasn’t used to having… friends so he probably wasn’t doing too great a job of the whole thing. Being overly grateful and sappy in his head and then in typical Shaun fashion covering this potential vulnerability by being a complete dick out loud. Shaun kept meaning to do something about that… something involving words and maybe a good, solid, friendly gesture that even his sub-par social skills couldn’t fuck up. Desmond especially deserved some kind of sign that Shaun didn’t hate him or want him to blue-screen in the animus, the girls were used to Shaun’s prickly personality and had some idea that the more he bitched at you the more he liked you but Desmond hadn’t been clued in yet. Plus, Shaun was being particularly mean to him due to the rampant, unsated lust he had for the other man. And because possibly he was a little bit in love with him.
All of this became suddenly and painfully relevant when the training equipment Shaun had been talking Desmond through malfunctioned and Desmond ended up trapped in a tank of water for the worst 2 minutes of Shaun’s life. Shaun scrabbled about going insane trying to get him out while his mind imploded. Oh God I’m a terrible, terrible person and Desmond is going to die thinking I hate him. My mother was right I am going to die alone and unloved with dozens of cats who actually despise me…Shaun’s inner monologue was stuck on a hysterical loop until he eventually found a breeze block and managed to swing it at the tank hard enough for water and glass to pour in all directions and for Desmond to fall forward limply.
“Desmond!” Shaun crouched down and pulled the other man into his lap, he was breathing raggedly but not moving otherwise, “Bloody hell… come on Desmond, wake up and say something!”
Shaun slapped him hard in the face, wincing a bit as he did so and Desmond jerked forward a little, as though he’d just been having a nap the whole time. Shaun sagged in relief and pulled the wet, confused Assassin into a tight hug “Oh, you’re okay. You’re okay.” Shaun laughed a bit at that, and teared up a little too, his mind was feeling pretty numb from the shock and he definitely hadn’t had time to reconstruct his inhibitions yet. Desmond just sat in the hug amiably enough, not entirely sure what was going on but grinning back at Shaun’s hysterics all the same.
“Listen mate, before you go and almost die again or anything I have to just say to you: I don’t hate you. Actually you’re probably one of my favourite people… you’re really sweet, unexpectedly thoughtful, you’ve got a really nice arse and you don’t want me to die painfully. “
If Desmond had been confused before he was baffled now, but that all sounded like… good things… even to his currently over-worked mind so he just blinked a bit and then with a mental shrug returned Shaun’s hug and snuggled while he had the chance. He didn’t hate Shaun too.
no subject
Date: 2012-08-20 09:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-20 09:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-20 09:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-20 09:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-20 09:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-20 09:37 pm (UTC)Fill!
Date: 2012-08-21 04:02 am (UTC)Three little words, and it all poured out of him.
"How are you?"
"Well, sir, I'm wet and I'm tired and I'm covered in Ankh River muck, but I've never been happier. We've got a confession."
Lord Vetinari had stared, blinked once, and then gone back to scratching on the sheet of parchment in front of him.
"Indeed," he said. "Of whom, of what, and why?"
"Er," Vimes says, "that's a bit of a problem, sir. I don't know."
no subject
Date: 2012-08-20 09:42 pm (UTC)I've got another confession to make
I'm your fool
no subject
Date: 2012-08-20 09:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-20 09:44 pm (UTC)I confess I've lost control,
I let my guard down,
I let the truth out.
no subject
Date: 2012-08-20 09:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-20 09:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-20 09:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-20 09:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-20 09:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-20 10:10 pm (UTC)Kings, Jack/David, You tell him you will want to get inside him and ruin him, but he doesn’t listen.
no subject
Date: 2012-08-20 10:11 pm (UTC)