Tuesday: Living in the Past

[evil-little-dog.livejournal.com]

It's Tuesday, and I'm evil_little_dog, your host this week. Today's theme is Old Fandoms. All prompts should be for fandoms prior to 2000!

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

Some examples to get the ball rolling...
The Man from U.N.C.L.E./The Girl from U.N.C.L.E., April Dancer/Illya Kuryakin, The Cross-Culture Affair
The Dukes of Hazzard, Bo Duke+Luke Duke+Daisy Duke, Just a regular night with the Dukes
Star Trek ToS, Spock+/Christine Chapel, Musical interlude
The Monkees, Ensemble, Peter brings home a ___________ (unusual animal)
The Avengers (TV), John Steed+Emma Peel, Umbrella vs. Fencing foil

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: Old Fandoms

Comments

[doreyg.livejournal.com]

Batman: TAS, Harley Quinn/Bruce Wayne,

Hey street boy, what's your style
Your dead end dreams don't make you smile
I'll give ya something to live for
Have ya, grab ya til you're sore

[doreyg.livejournal.com]

Star Trek: TNG, Q/Jean-Luc Picard,

Tonight the
Super Trouper lights are gonna find me
Shining like the sun

[doreyg.livejournal.com]

Batman: TAS, Harley Quinn/Bruce Wayne,

Tell me something new
Cause I've heard this
Okay I'll fuck you
A little taste test

[doreyg.livejournal.com]

Doctor Faustus - Marlowe, Mephistopheles/Faustus,

You're so hypnotizing
Could you be the devil?
Could you be an angel?

[doreyg.livejournal.com]

Back to the Future (movies), Doc Brown/Marty McFly, in a thousand worlds

[evil-little-dog.livejournal.com]

The Man from U.N.C.L.E./The Girl from U.N.C.L.E., April Dancer/Illya Kuryakin, The Cross-Culture Affair

[evil-little-dog.livejournal.com]

The Dukes of Hazzard, Bo Duke+Luke Duke+Daisy Duke, Just a regular night with the Dukes

[evil-little-dog.livejournal.com]

Star Trek ToS, Spock+/Christine Chapel, Musical interlude

[evil-little-dog.livejournal.com]

The Monkees, Ensemble, Peter brings home a ___________ (unusual animal)

[evil-little-dog.livejournal.com]

The Avengers (TV), John Steed+Emma Peel, Umbrella vs. Fencing foil

[with-rainfall.livejournal.com]

Any, any,would you be an outlaw for my love?

Highlander, Kronos/Methos, AU

[tigriswolf]

(Highlander, goes AU during season 3)


Every two hundred years since he escaped the well Methos so kindly trapped him in, Kronos tracks down each of his brothers. Just to see if they're still alive. He doesn't love them or anything like that; but they are his, as they have always been. Even Methos.

Especially Methos. Once he'd worked past the anger, Kronos realized that by leaving him alive, Methos had proven that he was still Kronos', despite wanting to leave.

They had been amazing, the four of them together. Powerful. Unstoppable, save by each other. He knows that Silas and Caspian never realized how truly dangerous Methos was, with his tricks and his cleverness. Kronos has slaughtered wisemen and torn down kingdoms - never has he found another who could equal Methos.

And so he checks in, every two hundred years. Eventually, he knows that Methos will grow to miss it too much, the horse and the sword, how they dealt destruction on wherever they liked, for whatever reason. Civilizations rise and fall, as years pass, and Methos tries so many things, but Kronos remembers the man who guided him out of the desert, the man who taught him to fight and to kill, the man who named him for a god.

Do you know why I gave you this name? Methos had asked. Or why I chose mine?

He had not known. With a smile, Methos had said, You will cut the world to pieces, boy. And he had laughed, standing tall and bare beneath the sun, when he added, And I am no more than a legend.

It was a long time before Kronos understood the joke. He laughs to himself, now, in this civilized age where Methos pulls on the mask of a researcher, unassuming and weak, and the mortals allow him into their innermost sanctum.

Caspian and Silas are safe; no one knows what they once were. Kronos himself has lost his mortal watcher for the moment, as he always does when he seeks out Methos. And not one of those mortals knows what is sleeping inside young Adam Pierson.

Kronos wants back what once was his, and he knows he must go about this carefully. He is still plotting when one of the mortals is murdered by Kalas and the honorable, annoying Highlander is pointed towards Methos, still masked, which just will not do.

The moment Kronos steps into range, he knows that Methos will either run or fight, so he moves swiftly. He meets Methos at the hidden door he had known Methos must've installed and shoots him in the heart.

Neither Kalas nor the Highlander will have Methos. He has belonged to Kronos for four thousand years, as Kronos has belonged to him.

What he must do now is think like Methos. What is the best way to get what he wants? What is the cleverest way to awaken the monster sleeping inside pale skin and fragile bones?

When Methos wakes, Kronos is kneeling before him, head bowed. "Once," he says in the first language he ever spoke, "you were my teacher."

"I was," Methos replies warily.

Kronos does not look up. "Teach me again," he implores. "The world has changed around me. I am lost."

Not all of it is a lie. Not even most of it. This is a new age, one Methos has (as always) mastered. Adaptation is not Kronos' gift.

Methos places a hand to the back of Kronos' head. "I know what you are trying, brother," he murmurs. "Rise."

Slowly, carefully, Kronos stands to his full height. The monster is not awakened, not yet. But there is a satisfied smile on Methos' face and he pulls Kronos in close for a kiss he has not felt in three thousand years.

[with-rainfall.livejournal.com]

Any, any, sweeter

[with-rainfall.livejournal.com]

Babysitters Club, Claudia/Alan or any het, Won't you tell your dad, "Get off my back"?

[with-rainfall.livejournal.com]

The Secret History, Richard, like jewels they shone in the morning

[with-rainfall.livejournal.com]

Animorphs, any, the gift of pain

Rachel/Tobias

[tigriswolf]

Rachel relishes the burn in her muscles, the way she has to gasp for breath, how everything aches.

If it hurts, she tells Tobias once, it means you're alive.

She knows she isn't going to survive this war. She'll do everything she can to make sure the others do.

.

If it hurts, Tobias thinks, it means you're alive. Everything in him is throbbing. He feels broken.

He's alive. He's alive and she's not. He's alive and bleeding out at the same time, and it's not fair.

He's alive and doesn't want to be, but he'll survive now. He's keep living this half-life because to do anything less would be an insult to Rachel.

[iceybreath.livejournal.com]

Watchmen, Walter Kovacs, Walter loses himself in the identity of Rorschach

[iceybreath.livejournal.com]

Good Omens, Aziraphale/Crowley, the first time they kissed had been an accident

[iceybreath.livejournal.com]

Brave New World, Helmholtz Watson/Bernard Marx, away from prying eyes they can be together

[tigriswolf]

fairy tales, author's choice, in the darkness of your room, your mother calls you by your true name

[vesca-viridian.livejournal.com]

To the world you are ‘boy’ and ‘child’ and ‘lout.’ You dodge kicks and snarled words, keeping your head down and doing what you’re told because that is how the world works. There are the men and women that run it, and there are people like you, children of such low birth that you’re lucky to be alive.

Mother sings nursery rhymes and fairy tales. The boy slays a giant. The girl becomes a princess. The rich lose and the poor win. A beast sheds its skin and becomes a man. Cows can jump the moon. The songs and stories are short and told in the glow of the hearth coals that get gray ash and black soot streaked along your face like the girl who slept in the hearth ashes and won the heart of a prince with her shoe.

You will win no hearts.

You are not the goose girl or tricky thief. You are not the youngest of three to set out on a quest. You are not brilliant or beautiful. You are a too-thin child with soot in your hair and bruises on your knees and blisters on your hands. There are no dragons to slay but there are chores to do. There is no magic feast, but scraps leftover from meals are good enough to feed you as they are to feed the dogs or pigs.

Mother tells stories full of impossible tasks, and those impossible tasks become your own, running chores like weaving nettles into shirts until your fingers bleed.

In the fairy tales so few have names. Who is the goose girl but the goose girl? The shoemaker makes shoes, the selkie is a what not a who, and the witch is never a real person. You would be the scullery boy if tales were real. Like the girl in cinders, you would have a godmother—more than a mother because mothers are fragile things and die, like you know your mother will die one day, like all parents die one day—who would magic you to a better life. If you were in a fairy tale, the cook would be the giant toppled from his beanstalk, the master of the house would be the deposed king, his wife would be the stepmother with her feet forced into red hot shoes to dance until her death. You are as nameless as so many fairy tale beings, but you are not one.

If you were the beast, you could transform. If you were the hero, you could have a quest to come out the better for. If you were a prince you could seek. If you were a princess you could have happiness come to you. You are ‘boy’ and not worth more than the dogs you eat alongside.

At night, mother whispers your true name, and you are not ‘boy.’ You are ‘Joss,’ ‘Jocelyn,’ ‘Josie.’

She weaves stories like a witch weaves fate and you let yourself dream that the warm cocoon of her arms around you can transform you like fairytale magic into a better person and a better life.

[tigriswolf]

Harry Potter, author's choice, the first time Fred&George get the Map to work, they see Peter Pettigrew in the Gryffindor common room with Percy

[tigriswolf]

Harry Potter, any parent, realizing that as much as [pronoun] loved Hogwarts, [pronoun] cannot send their child there for school – it’s just not safe

[tigriswolf]

Harry Potter, Harry Potter/alternate universe Harry Potter, selfcest

[tigriswolf]

Disney princesses, author's choice, daemon AU

fill: mulan - why is my reflection a funhouse mirror?

[isadorathegreat.livejournal.com]

It was an open secret in the village that, at 16, the Fa family's daughter's daemon was still unnamed and unsettled. The matchmaker refused to see her until the daemon did, no matter how much Mulan's family pleaded her to reconsider.

"How can a little girl possibly bring honour to her family?" the matchmaker sniffed, dismissing Mulan with a careless wave, even after she spent hours preparing for their appointment.

Mulan returned home alone, her daemon a cricket hiding in the folds of her beautiful, useless robe. She wasn't a boy. She wasn't a woman. How could someone like her ever make her family proud?

When the army recruiters came to her village the next day, when she saw her father and his old heron daemon limp forward to receive their summons, when she sat in the rain that night knowing that if he went to fight against the Huns, he would die, Mulan had her answer.

She slipped from her seat at the foot of the stone dragon guardian, her daemon mimicking its form and curling around her neck. He was silent as she prayed to their ancestors, cut her hair, and took her father's armour and summons.

"You're so quiet lately," Mulan said jokingly the next day. Her daemon grumbled and lit the campfire with his breath. "You haven't changed in a while either."

Her daemon sat on his haunches and glared at her, long, forked tongue flicking out between his fangs. "If you get to do something crazy like be a boy, I get to do something too. I want to be a dragon. I like being a dragon. And I am not going to change into anything else."

"Oh," Mulan squeaked.

Later, when the captain asked Mulan what their names were and she panicked, her daemon stepped forward and declared to the captain's lion daemon that, "He's... Ping, I'm Mushu, and we are going to whop every last one of you weaklings like a war drum!"

Mulan laughed nervously, trying to nudge Mushu behind her. The captain and his daemon were unimpressed.

[draycevixen.livejournal.com]

The Professionals, Bodie/Doyle, stakeout

[draycevixen.livejournal.com]

The Man from UNCLE, Illya Kuryakin/Napoleon Solo, cave in