Wednesday: AU
Jul. 1st, 2015 12:13 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_ficNow on to Wednesday with an old favorite: alternate universe. This can be either a fusion, where you place characters into another genre or show, like the Leverage team at Starfleet, or a canon divergence, or anything at all, really.
Just a few rules:
No more than five prompts in a row.
No more than three prompts in the same fandom.
Use the character's full names and fandom's full name for ease adding to the Lonely Prompts spreadsheet.
If your prompt or fill contains anything that can be a trigger for the reader, please add a warning for that to give the reader the chance to decide if they want to read or not.
No spoilers in prompts for a month after airing. Use the spoiler cut option found here.
If your fill contains spoilers, warn and leave plenty of space, or use the above mentioned spoiler cut.
Prompts should be formatted as follows: [Use the character's full names and fandom's full name]
Fandom, Character +/ Character, Prompt
For example:
Avatar the Last Airbender, Zuko + author’s choice, Shane (novel) AU
Historical, author’s choice, if Anne Boleyn’s first child was a son and Elizabeth her secondborn
We are now using AO3 to bookmark filled prompts. If you fill a prompt and post it to AO3 please add it to the Bite Sized Bits of Fic from 2015 collection. See further notes on this new option here.
Not feeling any of today’s prompts? Check out the just created Lonely Prompts Spreadsheet. For more recent prompts to write, you can also use LJ’s advanced search options to limit keyword results to only comments in this community.
While the Lonely Prompts Spreadsheet and LJ's advanced search options are available, bookmarking the links of prompts you like might work better for searching for in the future.
tag=au
Just a few rules:
No more than five prompts in a row.
No more than three prompts in the same fandom.
Use the character's full names and fandom's full name for ease adding to the Lonely Prompts spreadsheet.
If your prompt or fill contains anything that can be a trigger for the reader, please add a warning for that to give the reader the chance to decide if they want to read or not.
No spoilers in prompts for a month after airing. Use the spoiler cut option found here.
If your fill contains spoilers, warn and leave plenty of space, or use the above mentioned spoiler cut.
Prompts should be formatted as follows: [Use the character's full names and fandom's full name]
Fandom, Character +/ Character, Prompt
For example:
Avatar the Last Airbender, Zuko + author’s choice, Shane (novel) AU
Historical, author’s choice, if Anne Boleyn’s first child was a son and Elizabeth her secondborn
We are now using AO3 to bookmark filled prompts. If you fill a prompt and post it to AO3 please add it to the Bite Sized Bits of Fic from 2015 collection. See further notes on this new option here.
Not feeling any of today’s prompts? Check out the just created Lonely Prompts Spreadsheet. For more recent prompts to write, you can also use LJ’s advanced search options to limit keyword results to only comments in this community.
While the Lonely Prompts Spreadsheet and LJ's advanced search options are available, bookmarking the links of prompts you like might work better for searching for in the future.
tag=au
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2015-07-01 04:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-01 04:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-01 05:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-08-09 02:57 pm (UTC)What he liked most though, was seeing her teach alchemy to Edward and Alphonse. While Hohenheim did work around the home and farm, Trisha curled up on the front steps with Al in her lap and Ed at her side, drawing transmutation circles into the dirt. When Hohenheim watched her build ethereal dirt castles that could be blown over in a breath or caused a flower to bloom from a new formed bud, he couldn’t help but remember how he had thought of alchemy as magic the first time he saw it. Trisha made impossible things—did impossible things—all just as beautiful as her. It made him regret that he’d never learned the art, though the dwarf in the flask had tried to tempt him into learning it. But even as Trisha made it magical again, he knew the horror it could cause only too well with each soul swirling within him. If he learned, would he use it for the simple beauty that Trisha did, to support life? Or would his inherent pessimism lead him down darker paths? He still didn’t know alchemy, but it was a willful ignorance in the end; he didn’t trust himself to use it unselfishly or kindly.
“You’re ridiculous,” Trisha told him once when he confessed this to her. “It doesn’t matter how powerful you are or aren’t, or what sort of alchemy you know, it’s you that decides how to use it in the end. And you’re not a bad person.” She’d smiled, touched his cheek. “You know how to use a sickle and an axe; are you going to turn those on your neighbor? No. Trust yourself a bit more.”
He thought she saw more in him than he ever had sometimes. And he had done unforgivable things before even if he regretted them. He’d never tell her any of them though because some part of him wanted her to keep thinking of him as a good person.
Ed and Al got older, but so did Trisha, and despite her tests and trials and research on a wide range of alchemy, Hohenheim wasn’t aging with them. It made Trisha’s wonderful meals taste like dust in his mouth and his feet itch to run from watching the effects of time trickling on.
“I need to go,” he told her once, in the dead of night when Al and Ed wouldn’t hear. “I…I can’t…It’s too much.”
Trisha held his hand, tracing alchemical formulas onto his palm as she thought. “I can’t help you with what I know here,” she said finally. “If I went to Xing, perhaps I could try a different angle…” She shook her head. “It has been less than a decade. You knew it could take a while.”
“I know.” He rested his head on her chest where he could hear her heartbeat and confirm the life flowing through her. In her was a soul like the souls in him, but it was strong and bright and untainted by the agony inside him. “I know,” he repeated. “It’s…difficult.”
“I can do this,” Trisha murmured into his hair. She ran her hand along his neck and when she touched him, he always felt the possibility of alchemic reactions tingling through his veins. “I’ll go to Xing and you can watch Ed and Al for a little while. This will work out.”
no subject
Date: 2015-08-09 02:58 pm (UTC)He wanted to protest. He still didn’t know how to act around children even after having two of them over the last four and a half years. He wanted to say that Ed got scared of him when he had his moments of introversion or that Al still cried if anyone other than Trisha put him to bed. Hohenheim didn’t though. Instead, he let out a shaky breath. “Okay.” Trisha’s fingers curled through his hair, freeing it from the tie so it spilled over his shoulders. “Okay, but don’t leave us for long. I’m not sure how long we can hold up without you.”
Trisha chuckled, scratching his scalp until he finally relaxed into her. “Thankfully you have Pinako and her family to help you out just down the road if you have trouble.”
“Pinako is going to think I ran you off.”
“She knows full well that I put too much time and effort getting you to stay to be the one to run off,” she teased.
“How long will you be away?” he asked, the teasing hitting a bit too close to painful thoughts.
“Not too long,” Trisha mused. “Three months, maybe four if I have trouble. Do you think you can manage that long?”
With hands that shook far more than he wanted to admit, he pulled her in for a hug. “I’ll make it work.”
So Trisha left to study alkhestry and Hohenheim was left with two children that didn’t seem to know what to make of him. He thought he had probably left a bit too much of the child rearing to Trisha in the end; he couldn’t help it though since children had always been a bit mysterious to him even when he had been a child.
“You’re a fool,” Pinako said while they watched Ed and Al run circles in the back yard with Urey and Sara’s daughter, Winry. “Stop focusing so much on the future and enjoy the time you have now.” Her sharp gaze made him feel the same as it had decades ago when they first met—small and incredibly stupid. “Or was having children truly the last straw?”
No, it hadn’t been Ed or Al, or even Trisha really that made it all too much. Or maybe more accurately, it had been all of them, all the people he had loved and lost adding up like pebbles on a paper drum until the weight finally tore it open.
He tried harder to connect with Ed and Al after that. Ed still gave him grumpy looks and told him—with bluntness that Hohenheim guessed all children must have—that he blamed Hohenheim for Trisha’s absence, but the day Ed made a paper bird from alchemy and gave it to him was one of the brightest moments of Hohenheim’s life.
Trisha wrote often. Hohenheim wrote back less often, but her letters held hope of progress, and his held shaky sketches of alchemical achievements and photos of Ed or Al if he could get them to hold still long enough. The sketches were getting better as time went on. He could almost replicate Ed’s expression whenever milk was involved or Al playing with one of the farm cats.
Trisha returned and life continued as it had before her trip. Until one day it didn’t.
Hohenheim found her sprawled on her alchemical notes. Illness, the doctors said. Illness she must have hidden for months and had been unable to heal. He didn’t know if it had truly been illness or if Trisha hadn’t shared everything about her miraculous alchemy that she should have.
He left Ed and Al with Pinako, fast asleep with tear tracks staining their cheeks after Trisha’s funeral.
“I can’t do it,” he said, voice cracking. “I can’t watch them grow old and die too.”
“So you’ll have them lose both their parents in the same week?” Pinako snapped.
“I wanted us to grow old together,” he said.
“You’re a coward and you’re making a mistake.” She didn’t bother trying to stop him from walking away though. He thought he saw Ed in the upstairs bedroom window watching as he walked away, but when he looked again, no one was there. Leaving was something he would never quite forgive himself for, but he knew just as well that staying would have hurt worse. At the end of the day, the dwarf in the flask had pegged him rightly in that he would always put himself first.
no subject
Date: 2015-08-09 02:58 pm (UTC)*
Ed punched Hohenheim with his automail fist when they met again. “You bastard,” he yelled, all hoarse and ragged like he had a habit of screaming his throat raw. “You absolute fucking bastard, I will kill you.”
Hohenheim took the blow even though it broke his jaw. The pain was temporary after all, his body healing only seconds after, bone grinding against bone as red sparks of alchemy fused it back together. “Edward,” Hohenheim said. He dodged the next blow, but only because it had been a fatal shot and he hated recovering from fatal wounds.
“Brother no!” a large suit of armor yelled. A very familiar suit of armor from Trisha’s study that she’d bought because it ‘reminded her of him’ for some reason. Hohenheim felt his stomach turn as the armor clanged hollowly with his younger son’s voice. Ed struggled and spat like a cat doused with water.
“You left! You fucking left us alone!” Ed’s voice broke and Hohenheim ached inside.
He had no defense. He let Ed’s anger and vitriol spill over him and bleed out until he was limp in Al’s arms. Ed had grown. He looked like Hohenheim had at his age. Al had always had more of Trisha in his face. He didn’t need to look in Al’s armor to know that he wouldn’t be seeing how his son’s face had aged. Clearly he had no body at all.
What had he missed over the years? What mistakes had he failed to prevent?
When Ed had run out of energy, Hohenheim drew his sons into a hug that he knew he had no right to claim. Ed went tense as a violin string, but when Al let him go to hug back, he didn’t try to get away.
“You left us,” Ed said one last time, voice small and broken like he was still the child Hohenheim remembered.
Hohenheim closed his eyes. Because there was nothing else to say, he said, “I know.”
*
Ed and Al were every bit as brilliant as Trisha had been, maybe even more so. Their alchemy was as magical as hers had been, made more so with the lack of circles.
“We found Mom’s notes,” Al said once when Ed slept. “We know what she was trying to do.”
“Was there ever any hope in it working?” Hohenheim asked.
“I don’t know.” Al watched Ed sleep with Hohenheim. Ed still sprawled like he did when he was three. It was unsettling to see metal limbs and scars sticking out from between the blankets instead of whole and hale limbs. “Maybe she could have done it. Maybe she would have lived a long life trying for it.”
“I always wondered if it was the alchemy that killed her.”
Al was silent a long time. “I don’t think it was,” he said finally. “I think she must have known she was sick but she didn’t want anyone to worry. That was a lot more like her you know?”
Hohenheim smiled. It would be like Trisha to hide her health. “If you know what she was trying to do, you’d know what it is that I am,” he said after a while lost in memories of Trisha pouring over research notes. They didn’t hurt to think of as much as they used to. “You don’t have to keep looking for a philosopher’s stone.”
“…Brother and I want to find a solution without using the stone,” Al said.
“If I could turn back time—”
“You wouldn’t change time even if you could,” Al said. “You would probably do everything exactly the same.”
If Hohenheim had left sooner, Al probably wouldn’t have known him well enough to say that. Al had made him a cat out of scraps of tin and iron once long ago. He still had it in his bag along with the paper bird Ed had given him. He’d kept all the things they’d made for him over the years, hoarded like his memories. He’d never been good at showing his affection even though he’d treasured each moment his children showed theirs. “I’d have said goodbye,” Hohenheim said. “To you two and to Trisha.”
Al leaned his empty metal body against him with its hum of alchemy that tingled against his own alchemical body. He had failed to be a parent once. Maybe he would be able to make up for that in the future. Trisha was the alchemist, but even he could do something to help his children. Somehow.
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2015-07-01 05:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-01 05:07 pm (UTC)Fill
Date: 2016-07-29 07:40 pm (UTC)--
The thing is, Parker doesn’t get it at first, why Hardison is so reticent to show any affection. He’d iterated that he likes her—for her, unlike almost every other guy she’s run into—yet when she powers through her social ineptitude to tell him she reciprocates, he shies away. Initially, she wonders if it’s because he’s unused to a woman being forward, but that falls to the wayside; it’s the Roaring ’20s! Women can vote, it’s right there in the Constitution! Beyond that, the economy is booming! The Great War is over, the influenza pandemic has passed!
She doesn’t understand.
She runs it by Nate, who turns mightily uncomfortable and makes an excuse to hurry out the door; she runs it by Sophie, who simply blames it on the failings of his gender. Neither gives her a real answer. So, finally, she turns to Eliot—the surliest member of their group who doesn’t talk much.
He’d been drafted to the Allied troops like the millions of other young men; he’d gone in with almost every one of his friends, and came back with two. He’s quiet when he’s around them, which he’d told them once in a rare outburst was because of all the things he had rattling around inside of him that would scare them silly. He didn’t want to open up that rabbit hole inside his mind. He wasn’t scary himself, in Parker’s opinion, though the ease he has at adopting a new personality on their jobs, the way he slips into it so seamlessly, has more than once had her wondering if he was quite a bit more to the war effort than just a simple foot soldier.
When she asks him, Eliot slowly finishes his coffee, then shrugs. “Well, he’s colored,” he says. “And you’re whiter ’n snow.”
“So?” Parker says, legitimately baffled. So what if he has a different skin color; he’s funny and nice and sweet and awfully handsome, and shouldn’t that be all that matters?
Eliot laughs, a caustic, bitter thing that sets her nerves on edge. “So, you hold hands with him in the street, you kiss him in public, you may as well hold a sign asking people to beat him bloody. God forbid you get it in your head to marry him.” His words are sharper than steel, and her eyes grow wide, stricken. He sighs. “Look, I’d go to bat for him any day of the week, and I have, many times over. He’s a better person than most folk combined. But you and him gettin’ together? It’s illegal, Parker. Wake up.”
He leaves her then, in affronted shock, to roll his warning around in her head. She’s not as naive as he thinks, of course: she’s noticed there aren’t too many black-white matches around, and she knows about all the lynchings, and she knows what the Jim Crow laws spell out. It just doesn’t make sense, any of it.
She sits in Nate’s kitchen, stewing, and only perks up when Hardison walks through the door, notebook in his back pocket as usual with a pen behind his ear. When he spots her, his grin is its usual sunny self, although there’s a sort of strain behind it now that she’d never noticed before.
Determined, she strides up to him, cups his face, and kisses him squarely on the lips. It’s not remotely chaste, her mouth devouring his. When she finally separates from him, his expression is a bit dazed. “I don’t care that you’re a Negro and I’m not,” she says firmly. “I like you, Alec Hardison, and anyone who doesn’t think it proper can go to hell.”
“Parker, it’s not—”
“We don’t have to go out in public,” she adds quietly. “It can just be you and me if you want. And maybe one day it won’t matter anymore.”
He doesn’t answer for a while, just stares at her, long enough to where she begins to panic that he’ll shy away from her once again. Then he smiles, that sweet smile he saves just for her, and initiates a decisive kiss of his own. “Hey,” he says, a little sheepish. “I like you, too.”
no subject
Date: 2015-07-01 05:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-01 07:24 pm (UTC)fill. NOT WHAT I SET OUT TO WRITE, but anywayyy.
Date: 2015-07-04 06:37 am (UTC)"Hn," Tim says. Jason can smell the stale beer from here. Tim picks his giant-sized coffee out of the cup holder and slurps some of it down, even though it has to be at least 500 degrees still by the way it's steaming.
"And shave," Jason adds. Tim scratches absently at his stubble, searches around for his sunglasses before he finds them under his seat.
"And some people," Tim says, "have a social life outside of being a cop."
"Yeah?" Jason asks. Their dispatcher directs them to a breaking and entering on Holly Street, and Jason takes off for it, putting on the signal.
"Who was it this time?" Jason asks once they've cuffed the perp and put her in the back of the car. "The redhead with the tattoos? The blonde with all the eyeshadow?"
"Mm," Tim says. "No." He checks his watch, says, "Someone new."
Jason swallows, but doesn't say anything. He knows Drake's sex life is actually none of his business, but he's been way too interested ever since Tim was assigned as his partner. The first night they hung out at the cop bar a little ways from the station, Tim ended up trying to stick his tongue down Jason's throat, wrapped his skinny arms around Jason and tried to climb right up him.
Office romances, they never work out. Jason put a stop to it, and Tim hasn't tried anything with him since, but Jason – Jason can't help watching, can't help kind of hoping that Tim will try again. He remembers how soft Tim's lips were against his, that scratch of stubble and his stupid hair all in the way.
"You should come out with me tonight," Tim says later on, when they're leaving for the day. In civilian clothes he looks even thinner, ripped up jeans and sneakers, a band t-shirt that must have been someone else's once.
"I don't know," Jason says. "I've got some files to look over for Bruce, and…"
"Fuck 'em," Tim says. He grins at Jason, and Jason remembers how when Tim first started, when he was some rookie fresh out of training, Jason thought the kid would get eaten alive. And yeah, maybe Tim's a mess of a man, but he is a good cop, and Jason –
"Yeah," Jason says. "Yeah, all right. Just this once."
Tim's grin widens, and as the night darkens around them he leads Jason down block after block until they reach the place Tim likes, and Jason hesitates at the door – he's busted more than a few people here, for drugs and all kinds of other shit, and it's not exactly a cop friendly place – but the girl at the door knows Tim by name, and she lets them both in with a smile and a kiss to Tim's cheek.
"So," Jason says once they both have a beer in hand, and Tim's surveying the dance floor. "What's it gonna be tonight?"
"Well," Tim says. He downs some of his beer, and Jason tries not to think about the way Tim's mouth looks around the bottle. Tim spent three minutes flirting with the bartender just now, and Jason thought he'd lose his mind watching it happen. "I guess, if you really feel like playing the game, I could go fuck around with someone for a while before I drift back to you."
Jason stares at him, and Tim sets his bottle down on the counter, steps in front of Jason. "Or," he says. "You could just stop being so good and let this happen."
"Tim…" Jason starts. "If we – what if –"
Tim snakes his arm around Jason's neck, pulls him down and crushes their mouths together. Tim's strong for his size, and he keeps Jason glued there, but he doesn't really need to – Jason's been thinking about this for too damn long.
Jason turns them, presses Tim back against the bar, and Tim laughs into his mouth. His gun digs into Jason's hip and his nails bite the back of Jason's neck, and Bruce is going to cut them both up ten ways from Sundays when he finds out about this, but right now, Jason really doesn't care.
Re: fill. NOT WHAT I SET OUT TO WRITE, but anywayyy.
From:Re: fill. NOT WHAT I SET OUT TO WRITE, but anywayyy.
From:no subject
Date: 2015-07-01 07:26 pm (UTC)FILL: The Nygma & Wayne Detective Agency [DCU, Edward Nygma/Bruce Wayne, PG-13]
Date: 2015-07-01 09:13 pm (UTC)"But-!"
"No," he said, with extra force, and rubbed a hand back over his hair. It was too early to drink, it was too early to drink... "for the last time, Eddie, we founded this detective agency to help people."
"Really? Because I thought we founded it so that we could actually have sex at work," Eddie offered wryly, and then heaved a huge sigh at the look upon his face, "fine, fine. In what way am I not helping people, mr Grumpypants?"
He bit his tongue, so hard that he actually tasted blood. Had to count to ten inside his head before he could carry on, "you are deliberately alienating a large proportion of our potential clientele."
"Oh, I love it when you talk dirty to me," Eddie sighed, actually managed to summon something resembling a scowl after the prompt of some flat staring, "in what way am I alienating them, Brucie dear?"
"You are haughty, disrespectful, frequently rude-"
"I'm not hearing any problems..."
"Dammit, Eddie!" He yelled, and it was a credit to how long they'd been together that his boyfriend only arched an unimpressed eyebrow in reply, "you insist on people solving a riddle before you'll take on their case!"
"Yes," Eddie said, still somehow managing to sound extraordinarily unimpressed, "very true. But I'm still not hearing any problems..."
"Eddie."
"People like riddles!"
He stared, for a speechless second of shock, and then shook his head. Turning on his heel, the door was mercifully only a few strides away.
"...Bruce?"
"I'm going out," he groaned, hand already on the knob and dreams of vodka already dancing merrily in his mind, "I may well be some time."
Re: FILL: The Nygma & Wayne Detective Agency [DCU, Edward Nygma/Bruce Wayne, PG-13]
From:Re: FILL: The Nygma & Wayne Detective Agency [DCU, Edward Nygma/Bruce Wayne, PG-13]
From:Re: FILL: The Nygma & Wayne Detective Agency [DCU, Edward Nygma/Bruce Wayne, PG-13]
From:Re: FILL: The Nygma & Wayne Detective Agency [DCU, Edward Nygma/Bruce Wayne, PG-13]
From:no subject
Date: 2015-07-01 07:26 pm (UTC)filled - idfk about this
Date: 2015-07-04 08:04 am (UTC)“Or maybe I let you catch me,” Jason says, rolling his hips back against Bruce when Bruce leans in close to grab the knife in his jacket. “Ever think of that?”
“Hm,” Bruce says and tightens the zip tie around Jason’s wrists, shoves him in the back of the car and readjusts his dick before he gets behind the wheel and takes off.
***
“He’s fixated on you,” Dick says, slurping on a chocolate shake at his desk. “The other guys say he never gets brought in unless you’re on duty.” He dips two of his fries in his shake. “What’re you gonna do about it?”
“He’s a criminal,” Bruce says, not looking up from his paperwork. “I’m going to keep doing what I’ve been doing, Dick. My job.”
***
“Oh fuck,” Jason groans and Bruce takes one hand away from his hip to cover Jason’s mouth as he pounds into him.
“Quiet,” he murmurs against Jason’s ear when the bathroom door opens and the noise from the bar spills inside. Bruce stills inside of him as a drunk stumbles in and starts to piss in one of the urinals, starts moving again even before the guy leaves, his hand tight over Jason’s mouth as he pulls almost all the way out, then snaps his hips, burying his cock inside of Jason.
“Fuck me,” Jason swears as soon as the bathroom door closes again and Bruce drops his hands back down to bracket Jason’s hips, fucks him up against the stall door until he comes, grunting against the back of Jason’s neck.
He pulls out and gets down on his knees, turns Jason around and swallows his cock and Jason’s so good, stays so quiet, just looks down at Bruce while Bruce sucks him off, biting clean through his bottom lip when he spills in Bruce’s mouth. He whimpers a little bit when Bruce licks him clean, but the band has already started playing so it’s not like anyone would hear him.
“God,” Jason says as he zips up. “That was --”
“The last time,” Bruce says, throwing the condom in the trash. “I mean it.”
“Uh huh,” Jason grins as he slides his fingers over the gun at Bruce’s hip. “You always do.”
Re: filled - idfk about this
From:Re: filled - idfk about this
From:Re: filled - idfk about this
From:Re: filled - idfk about this
From:Re: filled - idfk about this
From:Re: filled - idfk about this
From:no subject
Date: 2015-07-01 07:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-01 07:31 pm (UTC)fill
Date: 2015-07-05 12:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-01 07:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-01 07:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-02 12:01 am (UTC)Charmed, Chris, changed future
Date: 2015-09-24 06:48 pm (UTC)He doesn't just suddenly remember one day, and he hasn't always remembered. But slowly, he realizes that his thought processes are different, and he has memories of things that never happened.
Except they did, didn't they?
On his fourteenth birthday, he knows that Mom died. But she doesn't. He has a very nice party with all the cousins and kids from school, and Wyatt is there smiling and laughing instead of orbing in too late because he got held up with friends.
Everything is different, except nothing is.
He judges everyone with knowledge he shouldn't have, tempered by experiences he never experienced. He'll realize later just how subtle it was - no one noticed, not even Wyatt.
It's why he'll succeed where his brother failed before; he has seen what went wrong, and knows how to fix it.
He doesn't just suddenly remember, and doesn't just suddenly change. That was Wyatt's greatest mistake, he thinks, listening to his brother complain about one of his classes. It's why the first Chris rejected him so completely.
When Chris offers Wyatt the chance, though, he knows his brother will take it, and they'll be able to save the world from itself.
Re: Charmed, Chris, changed future
From:Re: Charmed, Chris, changed future
From:no subject
Date: 2015-07-02 12:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-02 12:24 am (UTC):D
Rebirth
Date: 2015-07-02 04:08 am (UTC)~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nothing truly ends.
The Lifestream that flows through the planet continually cycles; life and death, love and hate, memories, and things that are forgotten.
And so the story goes.
There is not one, but many. Some details are the same - there is a girl who dies, a man in flames, - while others are different - ships and stars, arenas for war - . Some end happily, and some do not.
It is fitting, for the forces within mirror this same ebb; peace and war, loss and gain.
In one the world is saved, with very heavy cost.
In another lives entwine across planets.
Some exist only for fighting.
Others are brighter, more innocent.
Another is beginning. They are coming back. The story will be told again, and again, in a thousand ways, into the ages to come.
no subject
Date: 2015-07-02 12:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-02 12:39 am (UTC)