free for all
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Here's the free for all.
As ever, the rules are:
*No more than five prompts in a row.
*No more than three prompts in the same fandom.
*No spoilers in prompts for a month after airing. Use a spoiler cut as needed.
*If you know the character's full name, use it. Also, give the fandom's complete name, too.
*If your fill contains spoilers, warn and leave plenty of space.
There's also a new rule now: if something in the fill could be a trigger, please have a note to warn for it.
Please follow this format for prompts:
[Use the character's full names and fandom's full name]
Fandom, Character +/ Character, Prompt
Have fun!
Here's the free for all.
As ever, the rules are:
*No more than five prompts in a row.
*No more than three prompts in the same fandom.
*No spoilers in prompts for a month after airing. Use a spoiler cut as needed.
*If you know the character's full name, use it. Also, give the fandom's complete name, too.
*If your fill contains spoilers, warn and leave plenty of space.
There's also a new rule now: if something in the fill could be a trigger, please have a note to warn for it.
Please follow this format for prompts:
[Use the character's full names and fandom's full name]
Fandom, Character +/ Character, Prompt
Have fun!
no subject
Date: 2015-06-13 04:20 pm (UTC)Cross My Palm with Silver/Original Fic/PG/Very brief graphic yuckiness 1/2
Date: 2015-06-13 08:44 pm (UTC)--
“What are you playing with, Reyes?” Zeklos reached out and touched his partner’s arm, stilling his twiddling fingers.
“This?” Reyes held up a semi-round piece of metal, turning it side to side. “I don’t know. The victim’s mother gave it to me when I told her we’d gotten the man who’d killed her daughter. She said it was a token of appreciation. It looks like it’s a coin of some sort, but I couldn’t tell you from where.”
The item itself was misshapen, like it had been hand crafted, and looked to be made of silver. Andrej leaned over and turned Reyes’ hand so he could get a better look. It was definitely old, but he wasn’t certain just how ancient. “Interesting.”
“Take it,” Reyes said, holding it out.
Zeklos had learned at a very young age not to pick up random things he didn’t recognize. He’d first made the mistake at age five, when he’d found a broken doll lying near his family’s home. One second, he’d held the toy in his hands, the next he was waking up on the floor of their living room, unable to remember what had happened. His mother, grandmother and aunt had stood over him, watching warily.
“No,” Zeklos stammered, releasing his grip on his partner, “I don’t –”
But it was too late. Reyes dumped the antique coin into his palm.
Images filled his head, swirling and swarming and overpowering. Children roasting on spits, men and women impaled on long spikes. Dead animals and blood everywhere. The smell of rotting flesh invaded his nostrils and he gagged. Zeklos struggled to drop the coin, to stop the madness, but he was tied into the memories now, unable to break away.
With a gasp, his fingers finally, blessedly loosened and the coin fell to the table between them. Shaking, Zeklos pushed his chair back, face pale.
“Good god, Zek,” Reyes said, coming quickly to his partner’s side. “You okay? What the hell just happened?”
Cursing his Romani blood, Zeklos put his head into his hands, attempting to stop the room’s spinning. “Help me,” he whispered. “I need –”
“Need what, man,” Reyes asked, bracing his partner with a hand.
“Floor. Help me to the floor.” He didn’t trust himself to remain upright in his chair much longer.
If there was one thing Reyes got props for, it was his unconditional trust in Zeklos. Without batting an eye, Reyes helped his partner onto the floor, settling him into a corner so that Zek’s back was framed by two walls. He stood, staring at the detective for long moments. “You gonna live?”
Zeklos nodded and lost his balance, catching himself against Reyes’ leg. The dizziness that came after such a strong vision was the worst. “It’s a Romanian coin,” he said, waving off Reyes’ concern. “Wallachian, to be precise. Early to mid-1400’s. Please, put it somewhere where I’ll never have to touch it again.”
Zayne grabbed Zeklos’ chair and brought it near its owner. Sitting down, he rested his forearms on his thighs and stared hard at his partner. “Are you going to tell me what the hell all of that was about?”
Holding up a hand, Zeklos silently asked for patience. When he felt like he could look his partner in the eye without falling over, he did. There wasn’t anything but concern and a hint of curiosity in those jade colored eyes. How much to tell him though? Reyes was open-minded and trusted Zeklos to tell the truth, but how open-minded was he?
“You know about me,” Zek started, not sure how to proceed. “About my… heritage?”
Zayne flicked a glance at the coin on the table and nodded. Zeklos didn’t discuss it much, but every now and then, he’d tell a story or two.
“According to my mother, rest her soul, I got the talent from my grandmother.” Zek shook his head at the memory, not having thought about his family in a while. “It doesn’t happen every time, but occasionally, when I touch something – or even someone,” he clarified, looking at Reyes’ confused face, “I see things.”
“Dead people,” Reyes joked.
Cross My Palm with Silver/Original Fic/PG/Very brief graphic yuckiness 2/2
Date: 2015-06-13 08:46 pm (UTC)“You said this happens when you touch people, too?” Reyes gave him an inquisitive look.
Shrugging, he tried to brush it off. “Sometimes, but very rarely. I’m more likely to get a reading off an object. But it has happened.”
“It happened the first time you ever touched me, didn’t it?”
He could see the realization in Reyes’ eyes. Zayne was right, too. They’d been partners for only a very short time back then, but Reyes had slipped and, unthinking, Zek had reached out to help him up. “Yes, it did.”
“What did you see?” A line formed between Reyes’ two dark eyebrows, marring his handsome face with apprehension.
A smile crossed Andrej’s face and the worry line left Reyes’ forehead. “A happy child living in a land of sun and overgrown grass. There was a stern woman with kind eyes and a man with a crooked grin and gentle hands.” Zeklos paused, thinking back to that day. “I also remember a Labrador puppy and a horse named Joe.”
Reyes blinked. “You got all that from such a brief touch?”
Zeklos shrugged again. “Mother always said it was strong in me. But pleasant visions seem to flow easier than the other kind.”
“I guess this is why you avoid touching people, isn’t it?” Reyes was still watching him, monitoring his reactions.
“Exactly, although it doesn’t always work.” It was rather difficult to apprehend a suspect without touching them, especially in the desert where idiots liked to run around half naked. Zeklos left as much of the physical contact as he could to Zayne.
“Is it always this bad though?” Reyes tilted Zek’s chin upwards, giving him a thorough once over. “Your color’s coming back at least.”
“Thanks,” Zeklos said, rubbing his hands over his cheeks. “No, not unless there is a lot of negative energy attached to the item. In this case, there was an overwhelming amount of it. So much bok.” Bad luck. Andrej wiped his hands on his pants, wishing he could erase the feel of the coin from his skin. Briefly, he touched the spot where his protective talisman rested inside his pocket. Lifting his hand in the air, Zeklos waggled his fingers. “Help me up?”
“Of course.” Reyes stood and took Zek’s hand in both of his and drew his partner to his feet. “Feeling better?”
“Yes, thanks. Now put that thing away, please.” Zeklos glanced at the coin and shivered. “Better yet, get rid of the damn thing.”
Under normal circumstances, Reyes might have argued with him. Instead, he nodded and tossed the coin – probably worth several thousand dollars – into the trash. Money lost was preferable to the avoidance of evil things. “Let someone else play with bok. We need – what is it?”
“Kushti bok,” Zeklos said the ever-present Romanian accent thickening around the words. “Good luck.”
“Right,” Reyes said, slinging an arm around Zeklos’ shoulders, giving him an added bit of support. “But just in case it wants to follow us, you got some kind of magic you can whip out and protect us with?”
Chuckling, Zeklos shook his head. “Doesn’t exactly work that way,” he said. “But I’ve got something in reserve, in case we need it.”
Reyes didn’t question him. “Well, what I need right now, my little Romani, is food. And I think you could use a little something, too. What do you say?”
“I say that sounds good,” Zeklos agreed. “But you ought to drive. Just in case.”
Slipping his hand into his pocked, Zeklos’ fingers curled around the thin circle of metal he carried everywhere. Happy, pleasant thoughts filled him, things he’d impressed upon the talisman when he’d created it. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. For now.
Re: Cross My Palm with Silver/Original Fic/PG/Very brief graphic yuckiness 2/2
Date: 2015-06-13 09:11 pm (UTC)This was fascinating. Thank you!
Re: Cross My Palm with Silver/Original Fic/PG/Very brief graphic yuckiness 2/2
Date: 2015-06-13 11:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-06-13 04:54 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2015-06-13 06:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-06-13 06:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-06-13 06:35 pm (UTC)violence, death, unhappy ending
Date: 2015-09-29 08:30 pm (UTC)(Warnings for violence, death, and an unhappy ending)
...
This isn't at all what he wanted, he thinks, kneeling in a spreading puddle of blood, gasping for air, watching it all play out. But he was given the chance and he took it, and there's always a cost. Should've remembered that, Dickie-boy, he hears in his mind, in a voice -
If this is the price...
.
Bruce comes home without Jason. He doesn't call Dick; he leaves that to Alfred. Dick hadn't thought much of Jason, too wrapped up in being tossed aside, but now that Jason is gone, Dick realizes what's been lost.
No, not lost. Stolen. He screams at Bruce until his voice is hoarse and then goes to Barbara and they shout at each other before falling into bed, even though they've both sworn to move on.
It's when he's listening to her breathe, counting the breaths, that he remembers what old Helena, back in the circus, used to talk about, about magic and wishes.
He never really believes it will work.
.
The first wish is for the Joker to die.
There's a riot at Arkham and the Joker ends up gutted, bleeds out before any medical aid reaches him.
The second wish is for Jason to come back.
.
When the murders start, the only thing that keeps Batman from being accused is that he was with Commissioner Gordon during both the fourth and the sixth. Every victim is someone Batman had taken down, some of them still in prison, some of them out.
Dick doesn't know when Bruce figures out the connection but it takes until the tenth attack for Dick.
He visits the grave which hasn't been disturbed at all - except that someone has scratched out the death date.
.
Bruce, as far as Dick knows, never told anyone what happened, if he even knew, between the Joker and Jason. But Jason died and the Joker didn't.
Jason remembers. He kneels in front of Dick, cradles Dick's face in cold hands, and whispers, "There's one wish left, big brother. I know you want to."
Bruce is god-knows-where, and there was a bombing earlier, and Barbara is trying to evacuate Gotham PD's headquarters. Jason makes a terrifying bad guy, Dick thinks with a hysterical chuckle, listing forward into Jason's hold.
"You weren't supposed to be here," Jason admits, bringing one of those cold hands up to stroke Dick's forehead. "You're not a part of this, really."
Is this the price for bringing him back, life for life? Dick's willing...
"You have one more wish," Jason says again, tilting Dick's face so that their gazes meet. His body feels far away. Everything does. "Make it, Dick. I'm tired."
Dick blinks, and blinks again, and wishes -
Re: violence, death, unhappy ending
Date: 2015-10-05 02:06 am (UTC)Re: violence, death, unhappy ending
Date: 2015-10-05 09:14 pm (UTC)Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2015-06-13 06:37 pm (UTC)