free for all
Aug. 2nd, 2014 12:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tigriswolf posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
comment_ficAnd now let's have the regularly-scheduled free for all.
Y'all know 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.
Have fun!
Y'all know 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.
Have fun!
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2014-08-02 05:05 am (UTC)Guardians of the Galaxy (2014), Groot + Rocket, how they met / started traveling together
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Date: 2014-08-02 05:05 am (UTC)Justified, Sheriff Shelby + Ellen May, if they got their happy ending
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Date: 2014-08-02 05:06 am (UTC)The Ref, Mary&John, how the greatest Christmas of their life changed their entire family
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Date: 2014-08-02 05:06 am (UTC)What’s Your Number?, Colin/Ally + Daisy, when Colin meets Daisy for the second time
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Date: 2014-08-02 05:07 am (UTC)The Iceman/Avengers movieverse, Pronge + Winter Soldier, epic fanboying of the most infamous assassin of them all
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Date: 2014-08-02 08:06 pm (UTC)-
rescued by a sinking ship.
He shoots first. Two shots to the chest, another to the head. It's the messiest job he's done in years, blood all over his leather jacket and in his hair like it's fucking amateur hour. But at least it's done.
The Iceman is dead. Body gone cold, he thinks, and a million other puns as he throws a newspaper over the body and then heads back to his car.
There's no time to gloat over killing a legend. He needs to get the fuck out of here and he does, hops in his car and hightails it through two states before he even stops someplace to clean himself up.
He's not worried about what he'll do next. There's always someone to work for.
-
He meets the century's best kept secret by accident.
He's heard the rumors, of course. Iceman was a fuckin' novice compared to this guy. He's like some kind of god, something other than human. Unbeatable.
Pronge doesn't recognize him straight off. People he knows have heard of him, but they've never seen him.
But there's no mistaking the metal arm, the red Soviet star, the big black mask covering half his face.
There's no mistaking the way the guy takes out one, two, three guys on a street corner who must be CIA, FBI, who the fuck knows except that they must be important if someone sent the goddamn Winter Soldier after them.
It's only the last guy who's quick enough to even give the Soldier any trouble. The Soldier chases him down for half a block, tops, before he's worm food, too.
Pronge hasn't been this excited since the first time he blew up a building full of people.
He's not even here for a job, he's just passing through on his way to one, but he can't help following the Soldier down one twisted alleyway, and then another.
The guy is fast, and Pronge's not in the greatest shape, but he keeps up until he's ten, twelve feet behind the guy. Nervous, not sure what to say. I'm your biggest fan sounds a bit – well.
Doesn't matter, though, because in seconds the Winter Soldier's turned back around and he's got Pronge pressed up against a brick wall with his very metal hand on Pronge's throat.
Pronge has, quite frankly, never been so turned on in his life.
-
He should kill him.
He is not sure how the man found him, but he should eliminate him now, here.
But something stills his hand from making the final squeeze. The Soldier has been awake for longer than he's been in decades, and his thoughts are more his own.
The man's face looks familiar, though he cannot place it: not target, not handler. Not anyone he has trained.
Ally, he would think, if –
He loosens his grip, but he still holds the man against the wall. He pants, eyes wide, but the Soldier senses something beyond the usual fear there.
He's forgotten the English word for reverence.
"Who are you?" he asks, first in Russian and then, when he receives a blank stare, in English.
"Oh," the man says. American accent. "I'm no one, man."
"I know you," the Soldier says. He's almost sure of it. The face, the voice. Somewhere underneath decades of programming, he's sure –
"I really doubt it," the man chokes out. "Hey, do you mind –" he gestures, and the Soldier moves his hand to the man's shoulder.
"What do you want?" he asks.
"Not a thing." The man grins, sharp edges and only the smallest trace of fear in his eyes. "Just wanted to tell you, I uh –" he licks his lips, grins wider. "I love your work."
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Date: 2014-08-02 05:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-02 05:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-02 05:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-02 05:23 am (UTC)fill: T:SCC
Date: 2014-08-03 02:09 am (UTC)John looks up and squints at her the way he usually does when she’s said something wrong, something that John says makes her sound like a freak. “Okay, whatever,” he mutters and goes back to his Algebra. Cameron notices three of his problems are wrong but doesn’t tell him. This John doesn’t like to be corrected.
The next day John asks her again on the walk home.
“They laughed again. They whisper behind me. They think I can’t hear them, but I do.”
She notices how John’s facial expression changes when she tells him this; his forehead wrinkles and his eyebrows knit together. His jaw clenches the way it does when he gets angry. It's interesting.
“I thought if I went shopping and bought new clothing, like theirs, that they would stop.”
“Does it bother you?” John asks her curiously. "What they say?"
“No,” she answers flatly. “But I don't want to draw attention.”
“Buying new clothes didn’t work, huh?” He continues.
“No, Today it wasn’t clothing. Today they called me freak, psycho, weirdo. The blonde with the large breasts told her friend with the blue hair that I was kicked out of my last school for going nutso on the principle.”
“Wow,” John mutters, shaking his head as they cross the street.
“That’s not true,” Cameron continues. “We had to flee our last school because of Cromartie.”
John smirks at her logic. “Yeah, I know. They’re probably just,” he waves his hand dismissively. “Jealous, or whatever.”
Cameron tilts her head. “Does being jealous make you tell lies?”
“For some people.”
“Why?” She asks. “What does that accomplish?”
John shrugs. “I don’t know, nothing really. People -- humans -- are just jerks sometimes. Those chicks, they’re just jealous ‘cause you’re like, perfect.”
“I’m not perfect,” Cameron argues as John unlocks the door. “I malfunctioned. I went bad.”
“No, not perfect like that. Perfect like,” he goes pink at the tips of his ears. “You know. Gorgeous.”
“Oh,” Cameron says, sitting down at the table and shedding her backpack. “I don’t think I understand.”
“It’s a human thing,” John sighs, beginning to sound exasperated with her. He gets that way when she asks too many questions. This John does, anyway.
“Because humans are jerks,” she says, accepting the can of soda he offers her despite the fact that she doesn't require hydration. “And I’m gorgeous.”
“Right,” John says, and he’s turning colors again.
He’s doing that a lot lately too.
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From:no subject
Date: 2014-08-02 05:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-02 07:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-05 03:37 am (UTC)There’s something about the way Tony holds his hands that makes Clint’s heart race in his chest. Tony holds his hands as if they were something precious and not a callused, trained set of weapons. It happens at the oddest of times. In the middle of Tony’s lab when he’s careening around a table to head back to one of his latest projects, he’ll stop in his tracks once he realizes that Clint is there. He’ll reach out to grasp one of Clint’s hands in his own before bringing the pads of Clint’s fingers to his lips.
It never fails to cause Clint’s heart to skip a beat.
The warmth of Tony’s lips against the callused skin his most important weapon reminds Clint of how precious being here really is. He can’t help the upwards curl of his lips or the warmth that spreads through his cheeks in response. He can’t ignore the way Tony’s face morphs from being lost in thought to a soft happiness that Clint only sees in the privacy of their rooms.
The moment is always brief but Clint understands it for what Tony intends it to be. They’re still here. They are more than what their hands can do. They are more than an Avenger and a weapon. Beneath the armor they are human, they are important for more than their talents. It’s all the unspoken words that they aren’t sure how to say out loud.
Instead of Tony grasping his hand, this time it’s Clint. Tony is elbows deep in machinery and hasn’t taken a break in hours. He waits until Tony reaches up to run a hand through his hair in thought. Clint reaches out to stop Tony from going back to work. He curls their fingers together and can’t help the smile that stretches across his lips. Tony looks up and the tips of his ears redden before he stands completely up to turn and face Clint. He brings their joined hands to rest over his heart. “To what do I owe the honor of your presence tonight?”
“I thought I might be able to convince you to finish up early.” Clint tapped the tips of his fingers against Tony’s before tugging him closer. Their bodies pressed against each other, knee to chest.
“You’re doing a fantastic job on convincing me but you have a sure fire win in there.” Tony was about to finish the thought out but Clint’s lips against his fingertips, his wrist and then finally against the corner of his lips.
“Let me convince you further.” Clint tugged him away from the machinery and through the halls. Their fingers still twined, holding tightly as if they were holding on for life.
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From:no subject
Date: 2014-08-02 07:56 am (UTC)(Tony Stark, 100th Anniversary: Guardians of the Galaxy #1)
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Date: 2014-08-02 08:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-02 09:49 am (UTC)No fill but
Date: 2014-08-02 04:45 pm (UTC)I wish I remembered DS9 better, to write a little something for this, but it's been too long and I don't want to do something ooc.
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From:no subject
Date: 2014-08-02 09:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-02 11:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-02 11:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-02 02:05 pm (UTC)crack
Date: 2014-08-24 08:17 pm (UTC)Your name: None of your fucking business.
What's a fun fact about you that often suprises people? I used to be dead.
What hobbies or activities do you enjoy? Violence and mayhem.
What do your friends always say about you? Did you really have to kill them?
What are your likes and dislikes?
Likes: Kicking the shit out of people, keeping my identity secret.
Dislikes: Teamwork. "Rules."
Your profile match for this dater is: 99% compatible.
--
Bucky looked up from his computer. "You're a moron."
"What, I thought that was pretty good," Jason said. "I wanted to make sure I got laid tonight."
"You could have just gotten naked. Seems to work for you every other time."
Jason grinned, pulled off his shirt, and straddled Bucky on the chair. "That's very true," he said with a smirk.
Bucky pulled him down and kissed him hard, possessive. "You know, if you had included that twist thing you do in bed, we might have gotten 100% on the profile."
Jason nodded, still out of breath from the kiss. "I'll keep that in mind for next time."
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Date: 2014-08-02 02:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-02 02:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-02 04:48 pm (UTC)I'll pay you back with progressively deviant sexual favors.
Fill: "Text Wars (Or, Tony and Pepper in Another Meeting)"
Date: 2014-08-03 01:18 am (UTC)Re: Fill: "Text Wars (Or, Tony and Pepper in Another Meeting)"
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From:no subject
Date: 2014-08-02 04:50 pm (UTC)My coworker's brand new computer showed up today. He's on vacation for the next week. {Brian} and I are installing Windows 98 on it.
ETA: I forget why I wanted to edit this...
no subject
Date: 2014-08-02 04:58 pm (UTC)Damn, I forgot I took off my Ferrari icon
fill, Avengers, Bucky/Steve
Date: 2014-08-03 02:53 am (UTC)“Are you,” Bucky looks down between their bodies. “Are you holding my hand?” He sounds like he’s trying to fight back the giggles.
The back of Steve’s neck grows hot with embarrassment and he quickly slips his hand out of Bucky’s.
“I, uh, I guess I…” He fumbles with his words, his mouth as clumsy as the rest of him feels. “I guess I just haven’t done this in a really long time.”
Bucky flashes a smile and Steve actually goes weak in the knees; it's that kind of smile.
“That’s okay,” Bucky tells him, bringing his hand up to rest on Steve’s hip, leaning in so close Steve can smell the spearmint on his breath. “Neither have I.”
Re: fill, Avengers, Bucky/Steve
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From:no subject
Date: 2014-08-02 05:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-02 05:54 pm (UTC)