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no subject
Date: 2012-10-13 07:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-13 07:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-13 08:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-13 08:08 pm (UTC)They'd be amazed to hear
that Chance has been toying with them
now for years.
no subject
Date: 2012-10-13 08:17 pm (UTC)And I'm blinking off old eyelids
for a new way of seeing
no subject
Date: 2012-10-13 08:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-14 03:31 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2012-10-13 08:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-13 08:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-13 08:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-13 08:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-13 08:54 pm (UTC)Scale of Dragon, Tooth of Wolf
Date: 2012-10-16 08:27 am (UTC)By the time Morgana dies she hates the not-magic with a passion. Everything she loves has been taken away by either the not-magic or the bitter struggle against that blood traitor Merlin, who chose loyalty to a magicless prince when he should have been magic's champion.
Her hate is so complete that she refuses to move on, choosing instead to linger as a mere echo of life, longing for revenge. Camelot crumbles into forgotten ruins, and still she waits.
It starts with just a couple of people, and then a few more, and so on and so forth. A village comes to be. They grow their crops and drive their cattle over the ruins of something great, and the only one who knows it is a ghost.
A beautiful lady was once murdered here, they say, and now her spirit knows no peace. Beware the night, they say, for she was consumed by the injustice done unto her and became a malicious poltergeist.
There is only one person, a boy-child, who neither fears nor pities her. He is curious instead, and there is magic in his blood. He reminds her of Mordred, so she takes him on as her student. He becomes great, but she is proudest when his slyly-placed spells drive away the muggles, so that they wander confused and lost with no memory of the place they once called home.
A new castle rises over the ruins of the old. Morgana wishes Uther could see what her dear boy has made of this place; a magnificent school of magic.
She haunts the castle for a long, long time, and she is almost happy.
Draco
Father says that it's important to know about these things, but Draco is eight years old and easily bored. He sneaks away when Father isn't looking. He's not sorry either. The castle's much more interesting than any stuffy Board meeting, and Father never punishes him badly.
He finds the ghost-lady in the dungeon. She is pretty and fierce-eyed, with silvery bloodstains all down her dress.
"Who are you?" he asks. There is arrogance in his voice and posture, because he is a Malfoy, and Malfoys are better than everyone else.
Her bearing is no less superior when she answers; "Child, I am Lady Morgana."
He does not believe her, at first. Even so, she is interesting, so he doesn't stop talking to her either. She knows things about magic that he never dreamt of, and Father never hinted at. He is rapt.
He does not tell Father when he notices her following him home that evening, after he has been scolded for running off.
In the years that follow she becomes his tutor, secret confident and sister. If his parents suspect something, they never do anything about it.
By the time he goes to Hogwarts he likely knows more than any other student. Certainly he knows more than any of his yearmates. He can tell that it frustrates that know-it-all Gryffindor mudblood that she's never top of the class, no matter how hard she tries.
He's going to be great, one day. Maybe he'll rule the world, or maybe he'll find something better to do.
Lady Morgana looks at him and smiles.
Re: Scale of Dragon, Tooth of Wolf
From:Re: Scale of Dragon, Tooth of Wolf
From:no subject
Date: 2012-10-13 08:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-13 08:55 pm (UTC)Filled
Date: 2013-01-23 02:24 pm (UTC)Here’s it another way: Live. Grow stronger. Fight another day.
Continuous effort – not strength or intelligence – is the key to unlocking potential. Taking one more breath, having one more thought, lasting one more minute. Enduring. Surviving. A dead man never has an idea. A dead man never paints a picture or invents a machine. A dead man is simply dead. But an alive man – oh! The possibilities! An alive man can create; an alive man can destroy. He can sing and dance and inspire and detract. He can be the pebble on the mountain that when shaken loose causes an avalanche.
It is life that leads to progress and invention, that unlocks human’s potential to build miracles and reshape reality. Methos intends to keep on living to see it.
no subject
Date: 2012-10-13 08:55 pm (UTC)Fill - Jongleur (Last Unicorn)
Date: 2012-10-13 10:40 pm (UTC)Jongleur (http://icarus-chained.livejournal.com/380905.html) (Last Unicorn, Molly/Schmendrick)
"He had me juggling teacups all night long. Teacups! With tea in them!" Years later, of all the things that they said between them, that was what Molly came back to. Foolishness, courage, and imperfection.
no subject
Date: 2012-10-13 09:06 pm (UTC)Leverage/Inception, Arthur/Eames & Eliot/Quinn, (Arthur&Quinn are brothers) vetting each other’s boyfriends
Fill 1/3 A Very Distinctive Method (To This Madness)
Date: 2012-10-14 03:20 pm (UTC)Eliot turns a corner and thinks, 'Quinn's going to be pissed.' If Eliot walks away from this, Quinn's going to be pissed about Eliot being late to dinner. If Eliot doesn't... Quinn's going to be pissed that Eliot didn't lead his tail to the restaurant, where they could have taken care of him together. And Eliot knows his man can take care of himself, but Quinn's baby brother and the brother's boyfriend are supposed to be having dinner with them tonight. There's no way Eliot's leading an unknown straight to them. If either of them got caught in the crossfire-
Eliot chooses a doorway, about a quarter of the way into the alley, that'll allow him to watch for the guy who followed him here and waits.
And waits.
He's got the door at his side picked open and ready in case he needs to duck through, and he can't help but glance - again and again - at his wrist-watch. He's going to be really late for dinner. And then he hears a door clank open a little further in down the alley. What are the odds...
Eliot almost smiles. His guy can't tail for shit, but he's got some skills to speak of.
"I don't suppose you'd want to put our weapons aside and talk about this like smart men?" he calls out to the assassin hiding out there somewhere.
"Does a smart man put aside his weapons when a guy's just followed him five blocks across the city?"
The assassin's voice is young - strangely familiar in a way that Eliot can't place - and young. Eliot's heart sinks. He hates fighting kids. What do they know about what they're killing or they're dying for? Then Eliot realizes-
"Yeah, that's right... I've been following you since you left your apartment. You only made me on West Grand because I wanted you to. I got bored."
Cocky little shit... "Is that right, Junior? Well, why don't you step out where I can see you and I'll try to spice things up for ya."
"Still want me to disarm, old man?" the assassin asks, sounding almost cheerful.
Okay... now Eliot is pissed off. "Naw, keep 'em," he calls. "You might need 'em."
Fill 2/3
From:3/3
From:Re: 3/3
From:Re: 3/3
From:no subject
Date: 2012-10-13 09:07 pm (UTC)Glee, Kurt, (dark AU?) no one notices when Kurt breaks – but they sure as hell notice when he crazy-glues himself back together wrong
no subject
Date: 2012-10-13 09:08 pm (UTC)Glee, Kurt, a world where Finn Hudson never joined New Directions
no subject
Date: 2012-10-13 09:09 pm (UTC)Glee, Kurt/Blaine, a Black Jewels AU
no subject
Date: 2012-10-13 09:11 pm (UTC)Avengers movieverse, Bucky/Steve, Milo&Otis AU where Bucky is a grey, blue-eyed kitten and Steve a Goldie/lab mix puppy, and they have to find their way back to each other
no subject
Date: 2012-10-13 09:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-13 09:28 pm (UTC)not a fill - yet
Date: 2012-10-16 05:18 am (UTC)i'm working on this, it's getting a bit long, so I'll link, targeting this weekend. Good prompt, thanks!!
Re: not a fill - yet
From:Fill - Smith & Wesson - TRIGGER WARN - non-con, rape discussion
From:no subject
Date: 2012-10-13 09:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-13 09:39 pm (UTC)Fill
Date: 2014-11-18 06:16 am (UTC)“Sir, are you lost?” A young girl asked him.
“No, I certainly am not!” Jareth answered indignantly. He would rather die than admit that he was lost in his own labyrinth…if this was his labyrinth.
“I can help you find a door,” the girl offered.
“I can find it jolly well by myself, thanks,” Jareth searched the painted walls with his gloved hands, searching for a doorknob, a hinge, a crack, something! The plaster crumbled under his fingertips, and bits of brocade flaked and fell to the floor, but no door could be seen.
“This is my home,” the young lady said. “Old forgotten things find their way to this place.”
“I am not old, and I am not to be forgotten!” Jareth slammed his fist into the wall, as an army of unseen critters rattled behind the plaster and wood and old wallpaper.
The girl tapped Jareth on the shoulder, “I can take you to any room you want. Which room are you searching for?”
“Which room, indeed!” Jareth sniffed. It galled him to be pitied upon by a girl seemingly barely out of her middle teens, almost her age. Which room was Jareth looking for: his throne room, her bedroom? Maybe she wasn’t in that room anymore. Maybe her toys were all stored away in some dusty attic. Maybe her brother overtook that room, covered the walls with flimsy paper images of scantily clad maidens and noisy metal machines. Maybe there was just no room for him in their memories.
“Take me home,” Jareth, with his head against the wall, extended his arm to the side.
“This is your home,” the girl explained. “This is the Below, the Underground. It’s just a place you haven’t found yet. Come, I'll show you around.” The girl took his gloved hand in hers, and led him through the mansion.
“What is your name?” Jareth asked.
“Door,” the girl replied. “Welcome home.”
no subject
Date: 2012-10-13 10:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-13 10:04 pm (UTC)