Monday: Letters
Sep. 17th, 2012 08:18 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
kim47.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
comment_ficHey people, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kim47 here and I'll be your guest host for this week!
The theme for today is epistolary fic, that is, fics told in the form of letters. Prompts can be whatever you like, but remember that the fills should centre around a letter, text message, email or any other form of writing.
As always, remember the rules:
No more than five prompts in a row.
No more than three prompts in the same fandom.
No spoilers in prompts.
If your fill contains spoilers, warn and leave plenty of space!
Prompts should be formatted as follows:
Fandom, Character+/Character, Prompt
Some examples to get the ball rolling...
Supernatural, Dean & Sam, Dean uses textspeak deliberately to piss off Sam
Teen Wolf, Allison/Lydia, sometimes it's easier to admit things in writing
Suits, Mike/Harvey, Mike's taken to sending Harvey emails when he's bored at work
Have fun, guys!
tag=letters
kim47 here and I'll be your guest host for this week!The theme for today is epistolary fic, that is, fics told in the form of letters. Prompts can be whatever you like, but remember that the fills should centre around a letter, text message, email or any other form of writing.
As always, remember the rules:
Prompts should be formatted as follows:
Fandom, Character+/Character, Prompt
Some examples to get the ball rolling...
Have fun, guys!
tag=letters
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 10:20 am (UTC)Not a fill... Yet...
Date: 2012-09-17 06:07 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:Is a fill! This deserves multiples, I think.
From:Re: Is a fill! This deserves multiples, I think.
From:Re: Is a fill! This deserves multiples, I think.
From:no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 10:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 10:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 11:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 11:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 11:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 11:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 02:09 pm (UTC)*
Thank you for the Mead. Unfortunately it appears that the mortal Tony is immune to it's effects. I awoke from my drunken revelry with a penis drawn on my face. I will have my Revenge!!!, Loki
(no subject)
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From:no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 11:08 am (UTC)No fill yet
Date: 2012-09-17 01:23 pm (UTC)Re: No fill yet
From:no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 11:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 11:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 11:15 am (UTC)Fill: Adventure Time
Date: 2012-09-18 02:07 pm (UTC)Hey buddy! Long time no see! I caught up with those friends of yours a while back, hopefully they passed on that I said hi. Though just a heads up, if you’re sending anyone my way in the future, make sure they know to name drop you first, not when I’m about to kill them. Man, would I have felt bad about that one.
So how’s everything going with you? Still working for the pink lady? She seems like a good kid, but that whole zombie potion thing is a bit presumptuous. Kids these days, am I right? A genius intellect, and suddenly they think they’re masters of the universe. I was glad to hear that the Lich didn’t get a solid hold on her, though. (How was it running into him again? I know things have been awkward between you two for a while.)
Anyway, I was just writing to tell you that Hunson and I were thinking of having a bit of a get together, and we were wondering if you wanted to join us. Just a chance to shoot the breeze and share some stories from the old days. We figured you especially would want a chance to cut loose, what with the whole secret identity thing. Do none of them seriously know? Wow, man, mortals.
We were thinking of lunch at my place next week, so send a channeling if you feel like it, or just drop in to see me, either way. Hope to see you soon, and pass on my greetings to Cinnamon Bun.
Talk to you soon,
Death”
*
“Peppermint Butler, is there something you need to tell me?”
“No, Princess. Absolutely nothing at all.”
“Intercepted messages concerning secret identities among the royal staff are very serious issues. I cannot let this just pass by. I will have to start an official inquiry.”
“…So what do you want, Bonnibelle?”
“I want to come with you to that lunch. It benefits a ruler to have friends in very high, and very low, places.”
Re: Fill: Adventure Time
From:no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 11:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 05:09 pm (UTC)God, the angel discovers, leaves postcards to his children. He doesn't speak Enochian. He speaks math.
God writes large. In Tibet, monks pray atop a mountain range whose peaks and valleys spread over the surface of the Earth in a perfect fractal form.
God writes small. Castiel blinks through a microscope at a CDC lab. The image that slowly comes into focus shifts and grows. Its patterns replicate flawlessly and fast. Ebola really was a message.
In the vastness of space or the spaces between particles, Castiel reads his father's handwriting. It is geometry; the geometry of nature.
Castiel sighs. On the banks of the Tigris, the angel comes to rest beside an ancient tree. He folds his tired wings patiently around his borrowed back. The leaves and branches, the roots and stems of this venerable old palm, they expand endlessly in a perfect repeating pattern. Even the fruits cause the branches that bear them to bow at regular, repeated intervals. When Castiel bites into a sweet date. A circular fractal stares back at him.
Castiel laughs out loud.
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 11:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 11:40 am (UTC)Fill: Original, PG, Words That No One Hears
Date: 2012-09-17 01:37 pm (UTC)Sometimes you get brave and ask to see them. She'll look at you for a long moment and then smile, soft and slow in the sunlight pouring in from the window and shake her head, never giving you a real answer. You're not brave enough to press her.
Her letters continue on for years, filling notebook after notebook and finally you ask who they're for and she looks at you and this time she doesn't smile.
"Everyone and no one." She says, staring down at the page, covered with her spiky handwriting.
"You're writing letters to no one?" You ask, frowning.
"And to everyone." She traces a hand down the page, ink smearing across her fingertips and smiles faintly, but it's sad and not at all soft.
She closes the notebook and looks at you for a long time and you want to look away from her too intense eyes, but you never do. To look away would mean you're not brave, and, for her, you're always brave.
"Maybe I'll write you a letter." She says and smiles.
You smile back. "I'd like that."
Re: Fill: Original, PG, Words That No One Hears
From:Re: Fill: Original, PG, Words That No One Hears
From:no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 11:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 11:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 11:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 12:12 pm (UTC)Fill: 1/2
Date: 2012-09-18 05:10 am (UTC)The first letter appeared - inexplicably - at his window, tied to a brick and labeled "Alvin Draper" in an unfamiliar scrawl. Tim's first thought was that it was some type of threat. His second thought was that it was some kind of joke. (His third was that maybe, just maybe, he was becoming a little too paranoid.)
After a trip to the Batcave turned up no traces of tricks, traps, or otherwise nefarious devices (only a set of fingerprints that led to another dead-end) he untied the knots and carefully peeled back the edge of the envelope.
Dear "Alvin Draper",
See what I did there? With the name - which, by the way, I am totally airquoting even though you can't see me - and the brick? Yeah, I know, "misty water-coloured memories" they are not, but the consensus was that it was better to send the letter attached to something kinda solid so it didn't get lost in the time-stream/rip-in-the-fabric-of-the-universes/somewhere-over-the-rainbow etc etc. I'm just hoping it doesn't find its way THROUGH your window because that is not part of the plan. Then again, when does anything ever go according to plan with me? So scratch that: this bricks is probably, definitely going to go through your window and I will somehow scrounge up the funds from my meager earnings as a book-putter-backer at the library to pay for the damage. Okay? Okay.
So. Anyway. This is basically a letter to say "Hey guys, we're totally still alive and kicking even if we've been cordoned off in some kind of alternate universe situation." And by "we" I mean Cass, Wally, Donna, and yours truly, amongst others. We're working on a way to get out of whatever-this-is ASAP back to the real world. Or maybe you're the ones who are stuck in the alternate universe, have you thought of that?
Stephanie Brown: blowing minds since 1992, ladies and gentlemen.
(Okay, who am I kidding. Of course you've thought of that. Tell Damian to wipe that smirk off his face if he's reading this over your shoulder. Then tell him Cass sends her love and see if he turns red and tease him mercilessly to the end of time on my behalf, but only if he doesn't have any knives currently at his disposal. Get Alfred in on the action too!)
Right, back on topic: The Escape Plan. Kind of DOA at the moment, hence the distress signal aka letter-tied-to-brick. Not that we're in any major danger here, it's just kind of like living in purgatory: boring and not much to punch. Not exactly the charmed life, you know? And we figure if anyone can figure it out, it's the Boy Wonder. Or Dr. Mid-Nite-lite aka Red Robin / whatever you go by now.
(Also, just to prepare you for when you inevitably find a way over here to help our sorry butts out, "Red Robin" is totally some sort of family diner chain here. Just sayin'.)
(Also #2: We DID send "MAYDAY" signals to Bruce-Bats, Dick-Bats (... that sounds wrong, but alas the permanence of ink!) and Supes as well, but I'm throwing my support behind you as the dark horse. The odds work out so that if you get here first, I'll make a killing in the betting pool so we can split the winnings. Okay, seriously, I'm joking! Stop frowning at me across that rip in time/space!)
Anyway Tim, just do that thing you do and figure out how to bring us home. Cass and I... we miss you guys. Even Damian. A tiny, miniscule, need-to-use-a-microscope-to-see-it amount. Tell O we're not causing too much trouble and that I'm sure she'll be pleased to know Cass can still kick my ass in a game of rooftop-tag.
Aaaaaaaaaand to end this on an appropriate note, as a famous space-princess once said, "Help us Obi-wan Kenobi! You're our last hope!"
See you soon!
(Ever the optimist, that's me!)
Steph aka Spoiler aka Robin (yeah, you heard me!) aka Batgirl
PS: Being stuck here means I've had a lot of time to think about you. Us. And don't get me wrong, we both have our share of blame for the drama-tastic times, and no one could forget that without suffering from amnesia. But there were some good times too, and somehow I think being stuck here in semi-bizarro-land is even more sucky without you.
Fill: 2/2
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From:no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 12:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 12:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 12:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 12:23 pm (UTC)fill - 1/3
Date: 2012-09-17 02:47 pm (UTC)*
Danny's not sure how long he's been staring at his front door. He can't even remember how he got here.
There was a party. And alcohol. Much of which was consumed by him. After that things are a little hazy.
Danny frowns, and stares at the door handle. He needs to go inside. So he should open the door. So he needs to turn the door handle.
Right.
It takes him three goes to get the door open, and then ten minutes to find his bedroom.
Jesus fuck, he has never been this drunk in his life.
He somehow finds himself lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. It should probably be calming, but instead the ceiling is spinning rapidly, and he's pretty sure his bed isn't supposed to be trying to throw him off it.
His phone beeps. It's in the pocket of his jeans, which are on the floor (when did he take them off?), so he kind of stares at them for a while, too, hoping they'll somehow end up within arm's reach without him having to move. Danny's pretty sure that if he moves, he's either going to throw up, or trip over and crack his head open on something.
When his jeans show no signs of voluntary movement, he heaves himself off the bed and fumbles the phone out of the pocket. It's blindingly bright, a sharp, searing pain behind his eyes, and he half-squint, half-glares at the screen.
From: Jackson
are you still alive dumbass? you should
never drink that much ever. drink some
water, take some asprin, and go to bed
moron.
Danny grins at the screen. Jackson. That's how he got from very-drunk-at-a-party to his front steps. Awesome, dependable Jackson.
Okay, not dependable, exactly, but awesome, definitely. Pretty, too.
He remembers now, Jackson propping him up against the front of the house as he unlocked the door, swearing when his phone rang, and then swearing at the person on the other end.
"Danny, you gonna be okay man?" he'd said, turning back to Danny and frowning. "I gotta go pick Lydia up, her car broke down. Apparently not being her boyfriend anymore doesn't spare me from having to fix every fucking problem she has."
Danny had smiled amiably and nodded, and possibly slurred out something in the affirmative.
And then stared at his door for god knows how long.
He starts typing out a reply, but his fingers seem way too big for the screen and he can't get the letters to go in the right order goddammit. He tosses his phone to the floor, flops back on his bed, and instantly regrets the sudden motion when the entire world seems to tilt ninety degrees.
Danny has no sense of how time is passing, so it might be one minute or half an hour before he drags himself up to get a glass of water and stubs his toe on his computer.
His computer! That's what he'll do, he'll send Jackson an email. It's clearly a brilliant plan - computer keys are way bigger than the ones on his phone and everything is just easier.
It takes him a little while to get his laptop on and find himself in his mail client (he also gets a tiny little bit distracted by some porn, but he's a teenage guy it's practically expected okay, and the bottom looks freakishly like Jackson, Danny would be embarrassed to watch it if it wasn't the hottest thing ever) and to remember what Jackson's email address is. And then he starts typing.
jackson
thanks for takin me home man youre the best. sorry im so drunk was just in the moood to get shitfaced yknow and it s easier when your around cuz i know you got my back. i think i wanted to get wasted probly becasue i broke up with alex? i know you hated him. he was kind of a dick but then so are you and i like you just fine. alex said iwas in love with you and i should just suck your dick instead. i told him he as an asshole but he didnt really care. i mean he was right but its still a stpuid thing to say.
anyway please dont tell anyone its a secret but whenever i say youre not my type its a lie. not ompletely cuz youre straight and straight isnt my type but apart from that you are. dont tell anyone okay? especially jackson. thanks man love you.
Danny falls asleep.
fill - 2/3
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From:no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 12:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 12:56 pm (UTC)<3
Date: 2012-09-18 06:35 am (UTC)EDIT: For those of you not part of SGA Saturday, this was filled last week at this link: http://sga-saturday.livejournal.com/124525.html
no subject
Date: 2012-09-17 01:25 pm (UTC)