Ahoy-Hoy Lowly Mortals
Aug. 12th, 2013 07:46 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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comment_ficGood Morrow lowly mortals, I am ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
classics_lover, and I will be your host for the week :)
To get things off to a start get your word counters going, as I have chosen 500 Word Fics for today's theme. You can ask for anything you like, but fills need to be 500 words precisely.
The Rules:
>You may post up to five prompts
>You may not post more than three prompts in the same fandom
>If one of your prompts is filled you may prompt again
>No spoilers in prompts
>If a fill contains spoilers then give a warning in the header and leave plenty of space
Prompts should look like this:
Fandom, Character+/Character, Prompt
Fandom 1/Fandom 2, Character+/Character, Prompt
And finally, to get ye going, some examples:
Assassin's Creed, Altair(/+any), Hydrophobia
MCU, Loki/Darcy, What can possibly go wrong?
Tortall/Skyrim, any, these dragons are not like the ones we're used to
GO FORTH AND PROMPT!
Theme tag= 500 Words
classics_lover, and I will be your host for the week :)To get things off to a start get your word counters going, as I have chosen 500 Word Fics for today's theme. You can ask for anything you like, but fills need to be 500 words precisely.
The Rules:
>You may post up to five prompts
>You may not post more than three prompts in the same fandom
>If one of your prompts is filled you may prompt again
>No spoilers in prompts
>If a fill contains spoilers then give a warning in the header and leave plenty of space
Prompts should look like this:
Fandom, Character+/Character, Prompt
Fandom 1/Fandom 2, Character+/Character, Prompt
And finally, to get ye going, some examples:
Assassin's Creed, Altair(/+any), Hydrophobia
MCU, Loki/Darcy, What can possibly go wrong?
Tortall/Skyrim, any, these dragons are not like the ones we're used to
GO FORTH AND PROMPT!
Theme tag= 500 Words
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no subject
Date: 2013-08-12 06:49 pm (UTC)Fill; pregame Malik + Altair; Drowning.
Date: 2013-08-16 08:32 am (UTC)"I'm not afraid of water," said Altaïr.
Malik rolled his eyes. "Of course not."
The short expanse of water stretched in front of them, sunlight rippling from its surface. Five or six low pilings studded the surface.
"If you're afraid of water, we can take another road."
Altaïr's mouth was a flat angry line under his hood. "I'm not afraid."
Malik gestured at the water, "Then go first."
Altaïr glared at him. His usual grace escaped him as he stepped to the edge of the jetty and peered warily at the first paling. "It's slippery. There are better ways."
Altaïr gazed at the water, shaking his head, and Malik shoved him. He didn't mean to push so hard, but the planks were slippery. Altaïr's boots slid out from under him and he toppled into the water. He didn't struggle or splash. He just sank.
Malik waited a few moments. When Altaïr did not reappear he cursed and began to strip off his weapons. He pulled off his boots, robe and sash before he dived into the water.
The harbour was blood-warm, and murky. It was deep enough to drown in. The pilings stretched down past Malik like tall trees to bury their roots in harbour mud.
There was no sign of Altaïr.
Malik cursed and dived deeper. He saw a pale blur to his right and swam towards it. Altaïr's robes billowed around him. Malik saw a gleam of steel and realised the idiot had kept all of his weapons. He did not waste time trying to cut them free. He grabbed hold of Altaïr's wrist and tried to pull him to the surface.
It didn't quite work like that. Altaïr's knee caught Malik in the stomach, and his breath escaped in a cloud of silver bubbles. He pushed Altaïr away. Altaïr grabbed for his hands. Malik snatched his arms back and backpedalled, treading water as he seriously considered letting Altaïr sink.
He reached for Altaïr's hood, hoping to tow him to the surface but the waterlogged cloth slid through his fingers before they had travelled more than an arms' breadth. Altaïr's struggles grew weaker. In desperation, Malik slipped behind Altaïr and grabbed him by the throat. He'd either save Altaïr or strangle him. At that moment, he didn't care which.
To his surprise, it worked well. Altaïr couldn't reach Malik, and Malik had one arm free to swim. The shining surface of the water came closer and closer. Malik's arms burned.
He struggled to keep Altaïr's head above water until he finally managed to get one arm onto the jetty.
They coughed their guts up together in the baking sun before Malik said. "I didn't know."
"You did. You almost drowned me."
"So did you." Malik retorted. "You should have taken off your sword."
"I'd rather die."
"You almost did." Malik snapped. "Why didn't you say you couldn't swim?"
"You asked if I was afraid of water," Altaïr coughed. "I said no."
Malik sighed. "You're an idiot," he said.
Re: Fill; pregame Malik + Altair; Drowning.
From:Re: Fill; pregame Malik + Altair; Drowning.
From:Re: Fill; pregame Malik + Altair; Drowning.
From:Re: Fill; pregame Malik + Altair; Drowning.
From:no subject
Date: 2013-08-12 06:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-12 06:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-12 06:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-12 06:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-12 06:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-12 06:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-12 06:57 pm (UTC)Fill, Darcy/Loki + ensemble
Date: 2013-08-13 11:40 am (UTC)Coulson didn't blink. "Are you sure, Miss Lewis?"
Darcy nodded vigorously, afraid to trust her voice.
"Is Loki making you say that?" Coulson pressed.
"He wouldn't! How dare you!" Darcy was really annoyed.
"Hey, hey, calm down, Sweet Cheeks, Agent's only asking because it's not impossible," Tony interjected.
"Sweet. Cheeks. REALLY?" Darcy yelled at him.
"Not helping, Stark," Coulson and Fury snapped in unison.
"Shutting up." Tony backed out of the room with both hands up in a calming gesture.
"Steve, you try," Fury suggested.
"Miss Lewis."
"Yes, Cap?"
"Was this really... like this when you got here? We're just having some trouble believing that, since you and Loki are..."
"Together?" Clint supplied tactfully.
Darcy nodded, rolling her eyes. "Well, yeah. I mean, it's not like Loki tells me what he's going to do. And this actually looks more like a side effect than an actual prank. And it was totally like this before I arrived. I had nothing to do with it. At all."
"A side effect?" Natasha asked. "A side effect to what, exactly. We need you to be candid. We can't go on with just dribbles of information."
"And will you torture me to extract that information?" Darcy asked sarcastically.
Fury, Natasha and the team were silent too long.
"You, couldn't torture me, though, not without serious grounds. I mean, there's the Geneva Convention..." Darcy started babbling.
"Which does not apply to agencies like us, Miss Lewis," Coulson cut in smoothly, "given that no governments really acknowledge our existence. It gives us a surprising amount of leeway in the whole collateral damage area."
Darcy paled and her eyes were wide as saucers. "I swear to God, Allah, Buddha, Odin, Zeus and Quetzlcoatl, I had nothing to do with any of this! It's all on Loki!"
"Thank you Miss Lewis, that will be all," Coulson murmured smoothly. "Just tell Loki we'd like to see him when you speak to him next."
"'Kay," Darcy squeaked, and ran from Interview Room 2, and didn't stop until she found a café far enough away from Stark Tower that she could catch her breath. She ordered and sat down with a sigh of relief.
Loki sat into the seat across from her smoothly, his charcoal blazer and deep emerald shirt camouflaging him better than any magic spell. He reached across the table, and covered her hand with his.
"What's the matter? You told me you weren't allowed into this franchise because of the nasty calories," he murmured.
"You. You and your gods damn magic. You sent me in here to break the diet I was doing so well on!" Darcy spat at him.
"Why me? I did nothing!"
"Oh? Turning everything green sounds like you," she replied.
"It is. I didn't do it. Nobody saw me do it, ergo, I've got plausible deniability."
*-*-*
So this turned out less cracky than I had intended, but I had forgotten how hard it was to keep to the count.
Re: Fill, Darcy/Loki + ensemble
From:no subject
Date: 2013-08-12 07:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-12 07:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-12 07:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-12 09:19 pm (UTC)Detective Conan
Date: 2013-08-13 03:28 am (UTC)He moves on muscle memory. It’s a new house, but it might as well be the apartment above Mouri’s detective agency. Ran balances on the chair and he hands her dish after dish to fill the cupboards; nice dishes at the top for when company comes. The ring on her finger flashes each time she flips a plate over, right hand to left, and slots it on top of its counterparts.
“I know it will be different,” Ran says, “but think of Hideki as a new brother.” She smiles. “I know you’d rather live with Tou-san, but if I left you with him, you’d starve. We’re glad to have you with us, though. I know it’s not the same as being with your parents, but…” Her smile falters a bit, something in her eyes going cold. “But I would like to think we’ve become your family as well.”
He doesn’t say anything. He knows she will think his silence is because he feels abandoned by parents that left him with strangers half a decade ago. Better she assumes that than sees the truth. The night of her engagement he dropped Shinichi’s phone down a sewer grate. He hasn’t replaced it.
“What do you think I should make for dinner?” Ran asks, putting the last of the nice plates her mother in law gave her as a wedding gift away. “Once we finish unpacking the kitchen, I’ll make whatever you want.”
“Tempura?” he says, thinking wistfully of the last time he had it, the day before she announced her engagement.
She steps down from the chair. “Sure.” Ran grins and hugs him. He hugs her back because he needs to. “Now help me put the rest of this stuff away.”
He lets go because he has to.
***
Hideki isn’t a bad man, he just married Ran. Shin—Conan tells himself this over and over every time they share a kiss or hold hands or act like a couple. He tells himself this as they talk about their days over his head and when they retire together for the night. He tells himself this as Ran pats his head and Hideki tries to ask him about school and when guests come over and they eye him sideways as the intruder to the newlyweds.
He tells himself this like he tells himself other things, little words that don’t actually help in the long run. At least Ran is alive. At least he is still with her. At least he is alive. At least he will know if something goes wrong. At least she no longer cries over Shinichi.
If he tells himself it enough, he might believe it.
***
Ran holds him and pours out her heart to him the first time she and Hideki fight. She hugs him three days later when they make up. She whispers things to Conan she has never told Hideki and she never would have told Shinichi. It is enough.
Re: Detective Conan
From:Re: Detective Conan
From:Re: Detective Conan
From:Fill, AC3, Loot.
From:Re: Fill, AC3, Loot.
From:Re: Fill, AC3, Loot.
From:no subject
Date: 2013-08-12 09:29 pm (UTC)You want to get it right
But it's a conversation
I just can't have tonight.
FILLED!
Date: 2014-01-05 06:56 pm (UTC)When their father died Dean shattered inside but he keeps all his emotions bottled up tightly. Sam knows it was only a matter of time before his brother crashes and burns. He tries to get him to open up but it only makes things worse and Dean closes up even tighter. Sam knows the ache Dean feels; when Dad passed he left a hole in Dean’s heart and each day that pain gets worse. Eventually the hurt is going to kill Dean.
Sam wants to take all of his big brother's pain away and give him comfort and safety and shelter. One night he is woken by the sounds of soft crying. Dean is in bed, curled up tightly in a ball, sobbing quietly into the sheets. Dad’s journal rests in his hands and it seems like Dean clings to John, trying to hold onto some small part of him that’s left. The moonlight streaming in through the motel curtains cast light on Dean’s face and Sam can see the sadness and pain, and tears come to his eyes. He climbs into bed with Dean and gently pulls him closer, sliding his arms around his brother. Dean shatters. He wails with heartache and falls apart, and he sobs into Sam’s chest, crying, “I want him, back, Sammy. I want dad back, please bring him back”
Sam cry’s with his brother because he misses John too, and he feels the same pain and hurt that claws at his brother’s heart. If he could, Sam would bring their father back just so he never again had to see his brother cry.
(END)
Re: FILLED!
From:Re: FILLED!
From:no subject
Date: 2013-08-12 09:51 pm (UTC)Sherlock, Sherlock/John, can Sherlock really explain it in exactly 500 words?
no subject
Date: 2013-08-12 09:54 pm (UTC)King and Maxwell, Edgar /+ Benny, it might not look like it from the outside but the friendship benefits both of them
no subject
Date: 2013-08-12 09:55 pm (UTC)Person of Interest, Reese/Finch, late night on the roof top
no subject
Date: 2013-08-12 10:03 pm (UTC)I'm hell on heels,
Say what you will,
I done made the devil a deal,
He made me pretty,
He made me smart,
I'm gonna break me a million hearts,
I'm hell on heels,
baby I'm coming for you
(Pistol Annies)
no subject
Date: 2013-08-12 10:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-12 10:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-08-12 10:21 pm (UTC)fairy tales, any princess, peasant, or nobleman's daughter, they say the happy is expensive but the ever after's free
no subject
Date: 2013-08-12 10:21 pm (UTC)fairy tales, author’s choice, Snow White grew up to be Red Riding Hood
not a fill (yet)
Date: 2013-08-13 02:07 am (UTC)Fill: Rated R for violence and adult situations
From:Re: Fill: Rated R for violence and adult situations
From:no subject
Date: 2013-08-12 10:22 pm (UTC)author's choice, author's choice, no happy endings
no subject
Date: 2013-08-12 10:22 pm (UTC)author's choice, author's choice, save yourself a penny for the ferryman
Carry the Days
Date: 2013-08-14 04:05 am (UTC)It feels like the sun in her pocket. A subdued star warming her hip through her jeans. There are no marks on it, no language. Though in the moonlight there is a curve like the prow of an ancient ship.
She doesn’t collect coins. Doesn’t collect anything, really. But this one she had to keep. She found it in a tidal pool next to Giant’s Causeway in Northern Ireland. Caught in a crack between a cluster of mussels and a patch of barnacles shaded a strange blue. It didn’t look like much more than a bit of black metal then, or now. It feels aware in her fingers, and she hasn’t let go of it since. Always in her pocket, never far from reach.
She doesn’t know why she needs it. But running her thumb over its surface slows her heart, makes her forget…all the days.
She doesn’t listen when the white coats try to put a name to the writhing need under her skin. Their rooms are too bright, the fluorescent glare and noise on the speakers makes her teeth ache.
The coin doesn’t ask anything of her, but it sings—oh, such wonderful lost melodies. As if it were rejoicing somewhere beneath the earth, in harmony with a vast wide river.
When she cannot sleep (more often than not), she listens. The coin speaks of darkness. It moves around and below her. It needs something from her, but she doesn’t know what.
She rolls it over and through her fingers. She is so quick now that her friends barely see it move. That’s just it, though. She starts the trick, but then the coin moves on its own. It’s almost affectionate, trying to entertain her.
She doesn’t go to work for a week. It may be longer, but she hasn’t checked her messages to know for sure. The picture on the coin’s surface is changing. The boat is clearer, and there is a river beneath it that seems to move. She is very tired though, her eyes won’t focus. The coin is more like bronze or copper now, and doesn’t sing so often. When it does, the key is Greek or older, simple and almost dirge-like.
She rubs her thumb over the curved prow of the boat, imagining a robed figure reaching out. She hums to the fading music, trying to find her breath.
The shore isn’t familiar. But the song, the river and the cavern before her—yes.
The ship moves through fog skimming the river. She can see black hands rise from the water, grasping at the boat’s sides and finding no purchase on the gleaming wood. The coin feels warm in her pocket, a sun that has found its horizon. The boat slides onto the sand beside her. She sees the robed figure offering his hand, lifting her up.
Charon’s dark eyes are kind, unquestioning. She cannot feel her heart, her restless skin stills.
Re: Carry the Days
From:Re: Carry the Days
From:no subject
Date: 2013-08-12 10:23 pm (UTC)author's choice, author's choice, may these memories break our fall
no subject
Date: 2013-08-12 10:24 pm (UTC)