frjádagr: He's Dead, Dave

[doreyg.livejournal.com]

Good morning, everybody! I’m doreyg, and today is my last day hosting this week! It's honestly been a blast, and I definitely hope to do it again soon.

Today's theme, not in honour of this because that would be a little morbid, is Death. Prompts can be anything relating to death - be it the death of a character, the death of a dream or even somebody returning from the dead to eat nuts and kick butt.

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.
No spoilers in prompts for a month after airing, or 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 fondly remembered examples...
+ Batman (comics), Bruce Wayne +/ any, “please stop faking your death, it’s getting annoying.”
+ Black Widow (comics), Isaiah/Natasha Romanov, near death experiences
+ Teen Titans (comics), Conner Kent/Tim Drake, after Conner comes back from the dead he realizes that it’s time to stop pretending that he doesn’t have feelings for Tim

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 2016 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.

Have fun!

tag=Death

Comments

[doreyg.livejournal.com]

Teen Titans (comics), Conner Kent/Tim Drake, after Conner comes back from the dead he realizes that it’s time to stop pretending that he doesn’t have feelings for Tim

[doreyg.livejournal.com]

Batman (comics), Damian Wayne/Jason Todd, you’re never the same after you die

(I’d prefer Damian to be no younger than 15, but anything else is cool!)

[doreyg.livejournal.com]

Batman (comics), Bruce Wayne +/ any, “please stop faking your death, it’s getting annoying.”

[doreyg.livejournal.com]

Green Lantern (comics), Thaal Sinestro/Hal Jordan, Sinestro dies and Hal does not react well

filled - can i just say I have no idea

[oh-mcgee.livejournal.com]

Hal feels it when it happens. It feels like the day the ring day chose him, only exactly the opposite of that.

He falls to his knees in the middle of battle, feels like the will is being ripped right out of him, screams not from the pain of it, but because he knows, deep down in the marrow of his bones, somehow he just knows.

Bruce of all people gets him to safety when he sees Hal bent over himself, pale in the face and screaming.

"Are you hurt?" He asks, scanning Hal's for injury. "Did you get hit?"

"Sinestro," Hal says, though the words feel like ash on his lips, cold and hollow. "He's --"

"You don't know that for certain."

Hal laughs, weakly at first, then hysterically, laughs until his belly aches with it, until he realizes there are tears rolling down his cheeks and his laughter turns to heaving, wet sobs.

"I do," He says. "I can feel it, Bruce. He's gone."

"Don't be ridiculous," Bruce says, always trying to find reason where there isn't any. "Lantern, there is no possible --"

Hal pulls the neck of his suit down to show Bruce the mark just below his collarbone. It doesn't look like anything to Bruce, a glyph of some sort, or a strange birthmark or bruise, but --

"Korugarians," Hal begins, his chest tightening with the memory. "If they choose, can bond with someone if they --"

Bruce's face turns solemn and he opens his mouth to say something, but decides differently.

"We -- last night," Hal says, another maniacal laugh slipping out before he chokes on it. "Just last night. He said if I did something stupid and got myself killed that he wanted me to know he -- fuck."

Behind them is another explosion and Bruce looks up to survey the damage. "Hal," he says. "We have to --"

"God!" Hal shouts and beats his fists against Bruce's chest. "He's gone! He's -- I can feel it, Bruce. It's like there this huge, gaping void where something used to be, something I fucking needed and I didn't even know how much! It's tearing me to fucking pieces! Do you have idea what that fucking feels like?"

"Yes," Bruce says matter-of-factly, extending his arm to Hal. "Now get your ass up and make it mean something."

[doreyg.livejournal.com]

Black Widow (comics), Isaiah/Natasha Romanov, near death experiences

[marlex.livejournal.com]

any, any het paring, one of them was used to going into dangerous situations while the other one stayed at home and worried, but he/she wasn't the one who died

Fill, The 100, Marcus Kane/Abigail Griffin + Indra - Bellamy Blake - Clarke Griffin

[entireoranges.livejournal.com]

The Ones In Danger (http://entireoranges.tumblr.com/post/148082190407/the-ones-in-danger/)

[marlex.livejournal.com]

any, any, never too young to die

Fill: Gundam Wing, Duo Maxwell, Lady Une

[nagi-schwarz.livejournal.com]

The soldiers were poised, weapons at the ready, for when the engineers finally cracked open the cockpit of Gundam 02. Lady Une stood with her arms crossed, waiting to see the menace who had terrorized her men.

The hatch slid open, and the terrorist who tumbled out - was a child. Smooth-faced, soft-skinned, so slender and small. Small was an advantage for a Gundam pilot, no doubt; packing so much into the machine to make it as deadly as it was left room for little else. That was why the mobile dolls would be an advantage. No pilots meant greater maneuverability.

How had such a tiny creature handled G-forces so massive?

At First Lady Une thought the pilot was a girl - it wasn't unheard of; after all, she was a Lieutenant Colonel - but one of the soldiers rolled the pilot over with the toe of his boot. Beneath the glossy long hair, it was a boy. Unconscious he looked barely more than thirteen, but he had to be older.

Didn't he?

He and his cohorts had slaughtered so many of her men, and Noin's men, and other dedicated OZ soldiers. A boy like that looked too young to kill, but the dozens of marked graves belied the innocence in his face.

She'd promised the people of the colonies retribution for the terrorist attacks.

A soldier was never too young to die. If he was old enough to kill, he was old enough to be killed.

"A televised execution," she said to the officer beside her.

He saluted. "Yes ma'am. Right away."

The pilot would be killed all right. But he'd be tortured for information first. It was war.

[marlex.livejournal.com]

any, any, death rarely leaves time for goodbyes

Fill: Vikings, Ragnar Lothbrok/Athelstan

[dreammaidenn.livejournal.com]

By Your Side (spoilers for s3)

The forest was stained with blood, drowned in eternal silence as Athelstan's body lays lifeless. Ragnar will have the image forever etched on his mind, his body aches and he falls to his knees to pray to Athelstan's God, to pray for forgiveness, to ask to be reunited with his friend once his soul leaves his body too. He never got the chance to say goodbye to Athelstan, to keep telling him just how important he was to him and how much he loved him.

He had promised to protect him, that no harm would come his way if Ragnar was by his side, but they parted ways and revenge came seeking Athelstan's end. Ragnar isn't sure if he can forgive himself.

But he'll pray and give his life and faith to the Christian God, just to be closer to his Athelstan.

[marlex.livejournal.com]

any, any, dying on your birthday

Fill: Stargate SG-1, Daniel Jackson

[nagi-schwarz.livejournal.com]

While the number of times Daniel had died was a running joke at the SGC (which was unfair, really, Jack had died at least the same number of times before he'd left SG-1), death was still...death. Just because Daniel had come back every time before didn't mean death wasn't a terrifying possibility every time he, Sam, Mitchell, Teal'c, and Vala stepped through the gate. Why people thought Daniel would take his own death lightly made no sense, especially because people also thought, what with him being the SGC's lead anthropologist and all, that he was extra touchy-feely about emotions and peaceful solutions to human-alien conflict. Daniel could admit to being jaded about certain aspects of his work (like he'd told McKay, he'd suffered a lifetime of having his professional credibility questioned and ridiculed in the outside world, and he was in it for the money, on the bad days), but he was still awed by all there was to learn about the universe.

But he was also human, and on a day like today, what he was excited about was his birthday. While Vala was a thief, she was too unfamiliar with navigating earth systems in general (shopping, credit cards, telephones) to be subtle when she was planning something big, like a surprise birthday party for Daniel (that was really more for her entertainment than celebrating his life, but Sam was making one of her famous cheesecakes, and Daniel would never turn one of those down). All he had to do was get through a couple of departmental meetings, a gate mission, write his report, shower, and get home.

When weapons fire greeted them on the other side of the gate, he reacted like Jack had trained him, dropped to one knee, returned fire, scanned his surroundings, listened to Mitchell about who was running and who was covering. He trusted Teal'c and Sam to have his back, so when the laid down cover fire, he did what Mitchell commanded. He ran.

And then there was searing pain in his chest, and the world toppled sideways - no, that was him toppling sideways. Dammit. It was agony to breathe. He was drowning in his own blood. He was...

His final thought was, Fer cryin' out loud. On my birthday?

When he woke in the infirmary an undetermined amount of time later, his entire team was assembled by his bedside in various states of repose, having kept vigil on him. Daniel was so relieved to see them, so relieved to even be seeing, that he forgot to wonder if it was still his birthday, and if any of that cheesecake was still good.

But he did remember what he'd thought was his final thought, and he had to concede that maybe, just maybe, he was getting jaded about this whole death thing after all.

[marlex.livejournal.com]

MCU, Steve Rogers/Darcy Lewis, can't save them all

[classics-lover.livejournal.com]

Leverage, any, (954):
It's only 4 pm and I'm already way past my preferred quota of "could have died" moments

Fill!

[nagi-schwarz.livejournal.com]

(It's been a while since I've seen this show, so here goes...)

It's only 4 pm and I'm already way past my preferred quota of "could have died" moments.

Sophie laughed.

Hardison glanced up from his laptop. "What's so funny?"

Sophie turned her cell phone around so he could see the text from Eliot.

Hardison frowned. "I thought we weren't getting started on the job at the fertilizer factory yet."

"That's right," Sophie said.

"Then what's Eliot doing?"

"Teaching Parker how to drive."

[classics-lover.livejournal.com]

MCU, any, (313):
I almost caused an explosion; It's okay though. because everyone would have died having a good time.

[classics-lover.livejournal.com]

Forever, Henry Morgan +/ Jo Martinez, the first time she sees him die

Fill: (Drabble)

[thesmallhobbit.livejournal.com]

He’d warned her, of course, and she’d said she understood. But that didn’t make any difference. She’d heard the shot and come running, finding Henry lying on the ground and the gunman making his escape. She had desperately wanted to stay, despite his saying to go. She’d had to force herself to give chase. Then, when she’d returned to the place where Henry had been shot there was nothing there; no sign of him. In total distress she’d phoned Abe, not knowing what else to do. He’d collected her and listened to her sobbing, reassuring her as best he could.

[classics-lover.livejournal.com]

Torchwood, Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones, Ianto refuses to get used to seeing Jack die

[classics-lover.livejournal.com]

Tortall, any, "May you die with a sword in your hands."*




*Yes, yes, I know they're not Nords of Skyrim, but I think it's fitting

[leni-ba.livejournal.com]

any. any. Good people don't last long in this world.

Fill: White Collar, Rachel Turner

[sapphire2309]

When she joins MI5, the spectre of the Cold War has not drifted very far at all. She's grilled thoroughly before she so much as touches one of their files. She undergoes lie detector tests and interviews that feel like interrogations. Her ancestry is still scanned for anyone even remotely resembling a Russian forefather.

She endures it all because she wants to make a difference for as many people as she can.

-:-

It's a year or two before the water cooler stories reach her. Stories of people who defected, who are probably still alive, hidden in some corner of the world that their intelligence hasn't reached yet. Stories of people who didn't, who trusted in justice. Most of them are dead now, killed by people they thought were their friends.

It's a year or two before the stories reach her, but she knows the moral already. Good people don't last long in this world. Smart people, on the other hand, people who are loyal to none but themselves, they make it in the end.

She's already decided that she isn't going to die for ideals that no one else will bother with upholding.

She neatly slides a very important file into her purse and leaves the office for a meeting with the devil.

When they find out about how she's been making all that extra money, she'll be on a plane. She'll go to America or Switzerland or China and put some good people out of their misery.

-:-

She truly pities Special Agent Peter Burke when she goes through all the information she has on him. Every black mark on his record is because he believed in justice, he believed that everyone was as committed to doing the right thing as he was. He's one of the fools she swore she'd never be.

She wishes someone had clued him in.

She wonders if she'll have the chance to ease him out of his miserable existence.

-:-

She's in manacles in the conference room of Agent Burke's office by the time she gets around to wondering if she got it wrong.

What if it's the good people that make it in the end? What if being a little selfless helps you last longer?

She's already decided her fate. The least she can do is pass on the knowledge to someone who still has a chance.

Maybe Neal will survive for longer than she did.

Maybe he'll live.

[leni-ba.livejournal.com]

any. any. planning their own funeral

Fill: Seize the Moment, Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard/Rodney McKay

[brumeier.livejournal.com]

“Do you think there should be music? Something appropriately somber. Maybe Canon in D? Is that too cliché?”

“I’m not having this conversation with you,” John said crossly. Especially not in the infirmary. It wasn’t even as if Rodney had been the one injured on the last offworld mission; John was the one laid up with a bullet wound.

“Honestly, I don’t know why I didn’t think to do this sooner.” Rodney continued on as if John hadn’t spoken. He was busily entering information into his tablet. “With death practically looming around every corner it only makes sense to have a plan.”

John sighed and covered his eyes with the arm that wasn’t in a sling. He knew he shouldn’t be surprised that Rodney was being so morbid – the man had a very vivid imagination when it came to possible death scenarios – but that didn’t mean he wanted to hear it. Or think about what it would be like, attending a funeral service for Rodney.

“Burial or cremation? Hmm. Tough call. On the one hand, it would be nice to have a grave for people to visit, you know? Although where the hell would I be buried? Canada? New Lantea? No.” Rodney tapped a finger against his chin. “Cremation would probably be better. Scatter my ashes in the upper atmosphere or something. You’d scatter my ashes, wouldn’t you, Sheppard?”

Rodney wasn’t the only one with a vivid imagination. John could picture it all too well, taking a jumper up and saying a few words as he tipped Rodney’s earthly remains out of a brass urn. What the hell would he even say? Rodney was his friend, his teammate, but somewhere along the line he’d become so much more than that. The idea of carrying on without Rodney made John’s chest ache in a way getting shot hadn’t.

“You’re not being very helpful,” Rodney complained. “You know you’re the only I trust to carry out my final wishes.”

“You know what I wish?” John said between clenched teeth. “I wish you’d shut the hell up about this already.”

He didn’t need to look to know that Rodney had a hurt expression on his face.

“If our places were reversed, I’d make sure you got a proper funeral,” Rodney said. He managed to sound both wounded and petulant.

“Keep it up and we’ll be carrying out that funeral sooner than you think.”

“Well, that’s uncalled for.”

John sighed again, and dropped his arm. “Rodney, I don’t want to think about either of us dying, okay?”

“But –”

“No buts. Maybe instead of planning your funeral, you should be looking at ways to…I don’t know. Make your life better? More meaningful?”

Rodney snorted. “How’d I know you’d be one of those seize-the-day people? If you say ‘yolo’ to me, I might be forced to take drastic measures.”

“I’m just suggesting that you stop looking ahead to your inevitable demise and focus more on your life. Do something you wouldn’t normally do. Take a chance. You know, you only live…mmmph.”

Rodney kissed him, chastely business-like until John opened his mouth – to protest, maybe, or offer up suggestions – and then it was down and dirty, and John was a little embarrassed at the noises he was making as he clutched at Rodney with his good hand.

When Rodney sat back down, his face flushed pink, it took John a minute or two to get himself together. He had to clear his throat several times before he could get the words out. “I’m not sure that’s exactly what I had in mind.”

“Just taking your advice,” Rodney said with a shrug, though the look he gave John was full of heat. “Carpe hominem, or something like that.”

John couldn’t help grinning at that. “If there’s anything else you’d like to seize, that’s a plan I can get behind.”

“You’re an idiot.” But Rodney put the tablet away, and never mentioned funeral plans to John again.

[leni-ba.livejournal.com]

any mythology. any. death is not the end.

Fill: Norse Myth - Rebirth

[dreammaidenn.livejournal.com]

Surt's fire brought destruction, the Aesir and the Jötunn caught in a battle, the last one marking the end of all. The world cracked and shook, engulfed by coal-black darkness. The Gods were obliterated, Odin met his demise by the hands of of Fenrir the Wolf. Death and destruction spread throughout the nine worlds burned to the ground.

In the wood of Hoddmímis holt Líf and Lífþrasir were hidden, the morning dew nurturing their bodies. At the end they were the last survivors, and from Líf's womb sprung new life.

The world and humanity will live again. And the Gods will return to rule.

[leni-ba.livejournal.com]

any Jossverse. any. If I die here, I'm taking you with me.

Fill: MCU - Agent Coulson - Good To The Last

[lil-1337.livejournal.com]

Phil Coulson wasn't afraid to die. In fact, he had more or less accepted it as a job related inevitability. Not that he was resigned to his fate. Oh, hell no. When he went it would not be gracefully or without a fight. If, or more likely when, it came down to that he planned to go dragging a whole fucking army of the enemy with him.

[leni-ba.livejournal.com]

any book. any. Everyone else who remembers is dead now.

Fill: Harry Potter, Dennis Creevey

[nagi-schwarz.livejournal.com]

Dennis flinches whenever he sees a kid with a Dark Mark tattoo. Muggle kids run around sporting swastika tattoos, too, and he sees some people sigh and shake their heads, but it's not the same. Most witches and wizards who see the Morsmordre now purse their lips in disapproval; it's a sign of hate, they say, of bigotry and darkness.

But none of them were there at Hogwarts. None of them walked among the corpses of their classmates and friends. None of them watched the light go out of a girl's eyes as the Killing Curse devoured her. They read about it in the history books, listen to the memorial speeches, but none of them remember.

Everyone else who remembers is dead now.

When they finally come for Dennis, he isn't surprised that one of them is a kid with a Dark Mark tattoo. The hissing voice he hears as his world goes dark is one he never forgot.

[enmuse.livejournal.com]

MCU, Tony Stark, merchant of death

[enmuse.livejournal.com]

any, any, rage, rage against the dying of the light

[enmuse.livejournal.com]

any, any,
Sometimes I'd stay up all night
Wishing to God that I was the one who died.
Sometimes it's not enough time
("Didn't Know I'd Love You So Much" Repo! The Genetic Opera)

Filled, Crimson Peak

[truthwritaslies.livejournal.com]

Edith never marries again.

Despite everything else in her life that would say she must (the birth of her only child eight month after the death of her husband and sister in law, the scandal of being made a bride and then a widow so shortly after the death of her only family, the business, the money...) she could never bear the thought of another man in the place of her gentle Thomas. Only one other man might have come close, her dearest childhood friend Alan, and he was dead as well.

She takes her son, William, with her to board meetings and lets him see her stand strong in the face of the judgement of old men Edith had once seen as Uncles. She takes him to see all the inner workings of his business, from the clerks offices to the heavy machinery.

Edith smiles sadly when William displays for her his first technical drawing, more fancy then aptitude, and praises his interest. He is more and more like his father every day.

She takes him to the ruin of Crimson Peak, his by birthright, and pretends for a moment that she sees Thomas just beyond the ruined arch of the doorway. William shows little interest in the place and Edith is not sure it's a relief.

Edith tries so hard to make life good for her son but inside she withers away a little each passing day. She cannot help but think how much easier it would have been for Thomas. How much easier it would have been with Thomas.

She weeps most nights, late, long after she knows William to be asleep. He's a child, her child, and he does not need to bear any burden greater then that.

She weeps for her child and for herself but most of all for Thomas, her brilliant, beautiful, vibrant husband who had died far too soon. Who had been taken from her and from William. Who she can't help but think should be the one still alive while she should be dead.

In her head she re-writes history so that the fight between her and Lucille happens after William's birth. Perhaps Lucille kills her as she lays week from the birthing. Perhaps Thomas kills her out of grief. Whatever happens Thomas and William are alive. Alive and thriving the way a boy raised in the mausoleum of dead love cannot.

[enmuse.livejournal.com]

any, any, the day the whole world went away

Fill: Gundam Wing - Trowa Barton - Amnesia

[lil-1337.livejournal.com]

It had seemed so peaceful, floating in space and waiting for the moment when his oxygen supply ran out. A much calmer and gentler death than he had expected or felt he deserved, but then wasn't that how life often was? The balance between what you got and what was owed to you was so skewed that it seemed impossible to ever bring it back to zero.

Instead of just drifting off into an eternal sleep though. He was found, rescued and brought back into the warmth and relative safety of the human world. Too bad his mind had already decided to take flight and go where it would no longer have to deal with the pain and the death that he had seen; or caused.

It was strange, not knowing who he was where he was from, but in a way it felt familiar too. His world, his life and his memories were a blank white wall and he had no tools with which to decorate them.

[enmuse.livejournal.com]

The Mentalist, Kimball Cho/Patrick Jane, no longer wanting to die