Tuesday= Death
Feb. 19th, 2013 07:27 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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comment_ficI hope I haven't scared you away yet. One day down and four more to go. I'm ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
iantojjackh and I'm addicted to this community. Today is also Tuesday and it's time for today's theme of the day brought to you by the letter D for death. Some let's all join hands and sing the Happy Angst Song. Death comes in many forms. There is the obvious form of actually dying, but it could also mean death of a relationship, death of one's innocence or anything else your talented minds an come up with.
The rules are simple and are as follows:
<>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
The opening prompts:
+Torchwood, Jack/any, for once he wishes that death is permanent
+Stargate Atlantis, John/Rodney, the death of a relationship (friendship or as lovers)
+Sherlock (BBC), John, he refuses to believe Sherlock is dead
Not feeling any of today’s prompts? Visit the lonely prompt archive and brighten someone’s day.
Tag=death
iantojjackh and I'm addicted to this community. Today is also Tuesday and it's time for today's theme of the day brought to you by the letter D for death. Some let's all join hands and sing the Happy Angst Song. Death comes in many forms. There is the obvious form of actually dying, but it could also mean death of a relationship, death of one's innocence or anything else your talented minds an come up with. The rules are simple and are as follows:
<>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
The opening prompts:
+Torchwood, Jack/any, for once he wishes that death is permanent
+Stargate Atlantis, John/Rodney, the death of a relationship (friendship or as lovers)
+Sherlock (BBC), John, he refuses to believe Sherlock is dead
Not feeling any of today’s prompts? Visit the lonely prompt archive and brighten someone’s day.
Tag=death
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2013-02-19 12:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-02-19 12:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-02-19 12:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-02-19 12:53 pm (UTC)PG, violence, character death
Date: 2013-02-20 08:00 pm (UTC)(I haven't seen season 2, but I've read a lot of fic.)
...
Fire is the one thing that never leaves him, and this time, kneeling in the ashes, he swears that he'll track down every hunter and punish them all.
.
Beacon Hills is cursed, so Derek heads out in the night, two moonrises after the fire. It wasn't an Argent this time, but that doesn't matter. Hunting is in the Argent blood, so Chris is left with a gaping throat in the same basement where three of Derek's pack were beaten and tortured.
(Allison died in the fire, trying to reach Scott. She was part of the pack, even though Erica kept her distance and Boyd never took his eyes off her.)
Derek doesn't care if his prints all over Argent's house. He doesn’t care about much of anything anymore.
.
Melissa McCall and Sheriff Stilinski bury empty coffins for their children in the rain.
The very next day, Sheriff Stilinski follows Derek and Melissa McCall starts damage control.
.
Lydia almost got out. Jackson died immediately, before the fire even sparked. Boyd and Erica died fighting, and Scott tried to get to Allison. Isaac took a bullet for Stiles.
The front door was clear, but every path to it blocked by rowan and wolfsbane.
The pack howled for their alpha, and with his breath, Stiles willed mountain ash across the front step so that Derek would live.
.
Derek knows he won't live long. He'll either be taken out by hunters or werewolves who want to stay hidden.
But until he's dead, he'll kill every hunter he can find.
.
"Derek," Sheriff Stilinski calls quietly, hands visible and eyes lowered. "Derek, tell me what to do."
Sheriff Stilinski is a good man, and there are monsters out there that need killing. Melissa knew a lot, and she told him everything his boy had been hiding for over a year.
His boy, burned to death by monsters.
Derek doesn't try to dissuade him. It wouldn’t have worked, if he had.
.
Most of the hunters get gutted or shot. A fair few, though, are lit aflame. Every time, Derek howls, and it almost sounds like his packs are howling again.
Re: PG, violence, character death
From:Re: PG, violence, character death
From:no subject
Date: 2013-02-19 12:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-02-19 12:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-02-19 01:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-02-19 01:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-02-19 01:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-02-19 01:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-02-19 01:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-02-19 01:17 pm (UTC)Fill - Music for a Solitary Dancer
Date: 2013-02-19 10:09 pm (UTC)Music for a Solitary Dancer
"There can only be one!"
The man with the sword had yelled that, angry and arrogant, waving his weapon at Claire in time to the musical shunting of trains. With the lights of passing carriages gleaming off the blade and the light of violence in his eyes, his sword like a conductor's baton to the song of blood. Beautiful, really. Quite lovely.
He had yelled other things, too. Less comprehensible ones, things like "Wait, you're not even immortal!" and "How dare a mortal pretend to ..." Claire wasn't really interested in those, though. They were nonsense, the silly mutterings of people who thought immortality came in bottles, who thought it had to be sought out, when really all one had to do was not die, when all one had to be was real, where everything else was false.
Nonsense, he said. Much like the rest, yes, but the other words, the first words, "There can only be one!", they had been such charming nonsense. He had liked those. Those were good words.
The swordsman hadn't been the same sort of immortal as Firo, as his darling Chane's father. Not quite. No bottles, no elixirs, and in the end, he hadn't even had to be eaten. Made of lightning and blood and the point of the sword, a never ending canvas that writhed and fought and screamed bloody deprecations, but in the end a rail spike to the neck had finished it. Not long at all, not a real fight, not like the other kind would have been.
Tch. Disappointing. Blood and lightning and music to the shunting of trains, and those lovely, lovely words, like a song just for him: "There can only be one!" And there was, there was only one, there was only him. It had been so nice, to hear it said. So nice, to dance a red dance to its rhythm, with the lightning and the challenge to be the counterpoint, and the trains to be their orchestra.
But in the end, the swordsman just hadn't been strong enough. A little dream of arrogance and blood, and rather discourteous at that. Finished all too quickly, small and red in the light of passing carriages. A last taste of him, a song of lightning, a strange form of eating, so that Claire wondered if he might not have been like the other immortals after all. But no, not really. The corpse remained, as corpses do, and the swordsman was less a song and more a remembered note.
... Oh well, he thought. Fixing his cap, smiling bright and cheerful as he swung his way up onto his train, bound for New York and a nod to family once again. The swordsman already a distantly fading song in his memory.
But the words. There can only be one. Mmm. Yes, those he would remember. Those he would hum to himself, and dance to when the trains were singing and maybe, just maybe, find some partner to sing for him again.
There could only be one. There was only one. And it really was so very nice, to find someone who realised that. Heh.
Re: Fill - Music for a Solitary Dancer
From:Re: Fill - Music for a Solitary Dancer
From:no subject
Date: 2013-02-19 01:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-02-19 01:59 pm (UTC)no fic yet
Date: 2013-02-19 09:31 pm (UTC)Wanted to ask so I do not spoil you, if I decided to write this
Re: no fic yet
From:Fic; No One Ends
From:no subject
Date: 2013-02-19 02:00 pm (UTC)"It was trapped between two lungs" Mentalist gen
Date: 2013-02-22 06:29 am (UTC)Thank you for the inspiration!!
Re: "It was trapped between two lungs" Mentalist gen
From:Re: "It was trapped between two lungs" Mentalist gen
From:no subject
Date: 2013-02-19 02:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-02-19 02:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-02-19 02:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-02-19 02:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-02-19 02:21 pm (UTC)Fill: Brotherhood of the Horse (MCU+Highlander)
Date: 2013-02-19 11:06 pm (UTC)His mount, Svaðilfari, shifts restlessly.
Let Thor have his Sif and his Warriors Three. Loki has his brothers. His horsemen. They shall never raise blade to one another. Share everything. Equals. Let Thor have Asgard.
Midgard has always been where the real fun is.
And I saw, and behold a white horse: and he that sat on him had a bow; and a crown was given unto him: and he went forth conquering, and to conquer. - Rev. 6.2
Re: Fill: Brotherhood of the Horse (MCU+Highlander)
From:no subject
Date: 2013-02-19 02:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-02-19 04:40 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2013-02-19 02:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-02-19 02:28 pm (UTC)"Only you could pity the draugr/zombies."
Fill: BtVS, Willow + Scoobies
Date: 2013-02-20 01:09 am (UTC)“Aw, honey,” Tara sympathises, her hand rubbing her girlfriend’s back in support.
“I mean,” Willow tears a strip of bark from a little cut of cedar and tosses it into her mixing bowl, “they’re just trying to be dead and not bother anyone, and then some evil magic guy comes along and goes ‘Oh, hey, you’d make good zombies’ and now they can’t even rest or think for themselves or anything and they’re totally stuck here, when they shouldn’t be. They’ve got to be super miserable, or, you know, would be if they could feel things.”
Spike eyes her from where he paces in front of the Magic Box’s large display window. Even covered, none of them trust the entrance unattended and the sounds of the riot and the heavy shadows cast by shambling shapes moving before the flickering orange flames outside slip through the slats in the metal grating. “Only you, pet,” he tells her, though there’s a decent bit of amusement to his voice as he says it.
High up in the loft, rifle pointed out the window and down at the alleyway below, Xander chuckles. “Yeah,” he agrees, smiling. “That’s our Will.”
Willow sighs. “Poor zombies.”
no subject
Date: 2013-02-19 02:44 pm (UTC)Teen Wolf (TV), Stiles, he bleeds out into the dirt and no one gets there in time
no subject
Date: 2013-02-19 02:44 pm (UTC)Teen Wolf (TV), author's choice, oh, my friends, my friends, don't ask me what your sacrifice was for