Thursday: No Dialogue

[x-disturbed-x.livejournal.com]

Hello, everyone. I’m x_disturbed_x and today's theme is No Dialogue. Prompts can be anything but the fills must contain no lines of dialogue.

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 examples to get the ball rolling...
Life is Strange, Chloe Price/Max Caulfield, road trip
Life is Strange, Rachel Amber, life flashing before my eyes

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.


tag=nodialogue

Comments

[marlex.livejournal.com]

MCU, Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers, it wasn't what they said, but how they didn't speak to each other that clued the others in on their relationship

Fill

[helsinkibaby.livejournal.com]

Jane is the first person to notice a change in Steve and Darcy's relationship when she realises that, considering Darcy used to comment fairly lasciviously about his arms and his chest and, in particular, his ass, she hasn't done so in quite a while. Nor has she mentioned anything about anyone else's appearance so Jane puts two and two together, hides her smile and waits for Darcy to come clean.   

Natasha notices next, not because she's told but because she's something of an expert of concealing secrets. She notices that for two people who used to be fairly friendly, suddenly Steve and Darcy are hardly spending any time together and when they are, they're looking and talking anywhere but at each other. She might have thought they'd fallen out except that this was Steve and Captain America happened to also be Captain Gentleman and he'd never hold a grudge on a lady. Then she sees Steve looking at Darcy across the room, sees the smile that plays around his lips, the blush that coats Darcy's cheeks when she catches him and Natasha is grinning to herself for the rest of the day. 

Sam also notices and that's mostly because Steve is actually happy. Which he hides well, stoic commander of the Avengers and all that, but Sam knows him, has travelled the world with him and he can see the difference. Figuring out who the lucky lady is takes a bit of time but when he spies a sweater in Steve's apartment that's definitely not going to fit the good Captain, one that Darcy had been wearing the day before, he takes an almost brotherly delight in figuring out how to make them both squirm. 

Of course, if anyone had bothered to ask Jarvis, he'd say that he'd known before any of them because Steve and Darcy haven't spent a night apart for the last six months. But no-one ever asked and it wasnt in his program  to tell - in fact, Darcy had specifically ordered him not to - so the secret stayed secret for longer than anyone expected. 

[marlex.livejournal.com]

The Walking Dead, Beth Greene/Daryl Dixon, alone among the dead, they could go an entire day without saying a word

[lasairfhiona.livejournal.com]

Sometimes he had to look over his shoulder to make sure she was still there. She’d learned the lessons he’d taught her on how to hunt and how to move about in silence almost too well.

Back at the prison, she was always humming or singing quietly to herself as she went about her day. Not now. Not anymore. What happened at the prison had changed her. The girl he knew then was gone. Glancing over at her, he was almost sad his ray of sunshine in this bleak world they lived in was gone.

What surprised him was the silence didn’t seem to bother either of them. It didn’t feel awkward. It didn’t feel weird. It felt like they had always been like this. It confused him. He was used to moving through the world in silence and alone. But he’d grown used to hearing her too.

Looking back at her, he smiled as he saw look up at him and smile. Maybe he didn’t need to hear her voice to have his ray of sunshine. Just her being there and smiling at him was all he needed. Turning back to the path they were weaving through the woods, he looked up toward the sky and realized they had been walking most of the day and it was time to start looking for a place to make camp for the night. Later when they were settled with a perimeter line and a fire they would talk about the day.

[marlex.livejournal.com]

MCU, Steve Rogers/Darcy Lewis, sometimes when tragedy strikes, there are simply no words

Fill

[helsinkibaby.livejournal.com]

It's easy to forget, with all the evil that the Avengers face on a day to day basis - Hydra, the Chitauri, sentient AIs on a mission to destroy the world - that real devastation can occur out of nowhere just as easily. 

Real devastation can come out of nowhere - one person has one beer too many, another's in the wrong place at the wrong time and, just like that, Darcy's mom is never coming home. 

Steve gets the call and while he's not a stranger to being the bearer of bad news, this is different. 

This is personal. 

This is Darcy. 

This is Darcy, his bright, brilliant Darcy, rarely at a loss for words, staring at him with eyes round with shock, mouth stretched open in a silent howl of pain that manages to be more piercing than any wail could ever hope to be. Her fists beat against his chest as she takes her anger with the universe out on him and he stands there in silence until she's done, letting her do what she needs to do. 

Then, when she collapses against him, he closes his arms around her and holds her close, lets her cry. He doesn't say anything because there's nothing in the world he can say to take away her pain. All he can do is be there, so that's what he does. 

[marlex.livejournal.com]

The Walking Dead, any, last one standing

[marlex.livejournal.com]

Scorpion, Walter O'Brien/Paige Dineen, hugs

[ohmanishipit.livejournal.com]

Any, any, the silent treatment

Fill: SGA; McKeller, McShep

[nagi-schwarz.livejournal.com]

The silence in the house was oppressive. Jennifer refused to look at John, and by extension Joe. Rodney seemed like he couldn't decide between avoiding John or Jennifer, so he ended up either having quiet, intense conversations with her behind closed doors or huddling in his office with Joe, who was incredibly apologetic about what he looked like (it wasn't his fault - it was his face first).

The only neutral party in everything was Evan, and his enabling tendencies were clearly detrimental to the entire household. Instead of trying to lock Rodney, John, and Jennifer all in one room so they could scream it out, he started spending extra time in the kitchen, making everyone's favorite meals and delivering them to their bedrooms on trays so they didn't have to eat together if they didn't want to. Joe delivered John's meals, and Evan delivered Rodney and Jennifer's meals, and Evan and Joe had the kitchen all to themselves, which seemed too big for just the two of them.

Things reached the epitome of ridiculousness when Rodney started leaving a room whenever John entered it. Enough was enough. Joe waited until a night when Jennifer was out of town doing research with Topher, and he offered to take Evan out on a date to a local art museum. Before he left, he took all of the other car keys. John and Rodney, hidden in their respective rooms, wouldn't find out until it was too late.

When Joe and Evan got home, Rodney and John's doors were locked. Nothing was broken, so they had no idea if a conversation had even taken place. But the next day, Rodney and John joined them in the kitchen for breakfast – Evan had gone all out making everyone's favorite cinnamon roll – and even though they both looked miserable and exhausted, they could kind of look at each other.

And after Jennifer returned, they started eating dinner together again. She, John, and Rodney never spoke to each other directly, but Joe would rather be passing messages in the same room as them than slog through icy silence in the hallways.

And just when Joe thought they might actually speak to each other, Jennifer left.

[sapphire2309]

any, any, maybe you could swing by my room around ten

[sapphire2309]

any, any, i never meant for you to fix yourself

FILL: Sphere, Final Fantasy X, Braska/Jecht, PG

[raise_the_knife]

The most startling thing is how easily Jecht changes; he was a drunk, belligerent man who trailed along for something to do, a not unwelcome piece of brawn. It feels, though, to Braska at least, though Auron is vocal about his doubts, that Jecht somehow became another person overnight; perhaps the person he was before, the one whom his kid looked up to, perhaps someone else. That, Braska can't know, as much as he couldn't know that Jecht would become more than a guardian, another way to poke at the fraying edges of Yevon.

He does know that he's somehow been roped into making a travelogue of Spira, that even Auron seems to smile, and that, at night, he is no longer cold. He learns all the ways that Jecht's body is the same as his own, and knows Zanarkand like he's been there, and he is glad for what few joys remain to them, even at so high a cost, and so unlooked for.

He wishes it could last beyond the stolen moments, in between, where they can't be seen; but if their journey didn't have an end, he suspects Jecht would never have come along at all.

[sapphire2309]

any, any, you will look for me, and i'll be gone

Fill: SGA, McKeller, McShep

[nagi-schwarz.livejournal.com]

Jennifer knew it was the end when Rodney woke in the middle of the night, breathing hard, in the throes of a panic attack, memories from the bus crash washing over him, and the person he called out for was John.

She kissed him gently, soothed him back to sleep. And she chose.

She pretended to be asleep when the alarm went off, which sometimes she was on the days she had off. She waited till Rodney left the house, till she thought the house was empty. She rose and washed, dressed, and then she stood in the middle of her bedroom, their bedroom, and she cried.

It was Joe who found her, and she couldn't look at him, couldn't look at his face. He opened his mouth to speak, reached out, but he saw the look in her eyes and flinched back like she'd struck him, and he ran. She heard him murmuring, and she she wiped her face, set about packing a suitcase. She could come back for the rest.

She had almost completely cleaned out the closet when Evan arrived. Joe was nowhere in sight. Evan took one look at her, and she collapsed against him, sobbing out her broken heart once more (but certainly not for the last time). Evan held her, warm and solid and comforting, and he smoothed her hair back from her face, and he rocked her gently when she started shaking.

And then, when she had herself together, he helped her pack. Books, plaques, pictures, trinkets. She would take everything she could. As much as the life she'd imagined for herself had fallen apart, there were lots of good memories, and she refused to throw them away. Evan had borrowed someone's big truck, and it was disappointing, how much of her personal life fit info so small a space.

Evan promised he'd take care of stripping down her lab and sending her the equipment once she found a place of her own.

She hugged him, and after tense hesitation, hugged Joe.

By the time Rodney got home, by the time he thought to look for her, she would be gone.

[tigriswolf]

Author’s choice, author’s choice, it comes down to the fact that there never really was another choice

Merlin (TV), Arthur/Merlin, Two Shadows in the Darkness

[dreammaidenn.livejournal.com]

His destiny is to be by the side of the once and future king. Keep Arthur near and see a new day begin when he rules over Camelot. Begin again, anew next to each other.

Merlin is part of the people who believe in the prince. Who trust him beyond words.

He would give Arthur everything that he is, perhaps he already has.

He's being pressed against one of the castle's walls, they're both obscured by darkness, and their words are contained by the sweet caress of lips on lips. Merlin can't escape this, can't escape Arthur's skin, his kisses, his very soul. Arthur has been carved inside him. He's become the rising sun.

Arthur smells like the earth and Merlin wants to bury himself in him. Remain by his side without anything tearing them apart. Arthur's warm, soft hands sneak up and begin drawing patterns on his side. Merlin begins to unwind, closes his eyes and waits for Arthur to drag him to his chambers. Which he does soon enough.

Merlin never really had a choice.

[tigriswolf]

Avengers movieverse, author’s choice, the Winter Soldier was intended to be a surgical scalpel where needed, not a battering ram

[tigriswolf]

Marvel movies, Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes, The Way We Were

[dreammaidenn.livejournal.com]

Any, Any, I refuse to sing love songs but maybe for you I would.

FILL: SPN RPF, Jensen Ackles/Jared Padaclecki, Tw; Past abuse

[cozy-coffee.livejournal.com]

He hopes it’s his imagination. That his heart is playing tricks on him and his ears are deceiving him. They’re in the thrills of pleasure and passion, and Jared’s gasping “Love you” “Beautiful, mine, love you so much.” The sweet words are mixed moans, mingling with the squeak of the mattress creaking under the pressure of the bumping and grinding.

Jensen is not accustomed to being shown love. He knows pain and a broken heart. He knows that he was once the victim of domestic abuse. His past boyfriend, to say this kindly, was an asshole. The man was a monster who not only abused him physically and sexually, but mentally as well. Told he was pathetic, stupid—wasn’t worthy of love.

Jensen left that man for Jared, who had beaten the evil man within an inch of his life once he found out what was happening to Jensen. They’ve been together for nearly a two years and while Jared has said those three sweet words before, this time Jensen believes them.

He believes that he is good and worthy of love and happiness. He found the love of his life with a man who looks at him as if he is the most precious jewel in the world. Jensen clings tightly to Jared and listens with a warm heart as Jared whispers “I love you, Jensen” repeated, his tone soft and sweet and loving. They kiss passionately as they make love all through the night, Jensen holding onto Jared as his boyfriend tenderly whispers those three sweet little words.

The next morning, between the two of them, Jared was the morning person. The second the sun rose, he jumped out of bed, laced up his sneakers, and ran out the door with Harley and Sadie, happily humming as he took off for a brisk jog. He started his day with such energetic enthusiasm, a bright smile on his handsome face as he greeted the sunny morning.

Jensen was not a morning person. He was much slower to rise and shine; he lounged lazily in the warm bed, cuddling into the sheets that were soft and cozy… and after a night of Jared making love to him, Jensen enjoyed the afterglow that lingered in the morning. His heart was still tap-dancing in his chest from the devoted words Jared spoke to him, and he couldn’t stop smiling like a fool in love.

When he did eventually make it out of bed, Jensen moved slowly and sluggishly. Still sleepy, Jensen found himself smiling with a wide grin as he looked out in the back yard, seeing Jared and his dogs. He watched as Jared laughed with delight and rolled around with the happily barking dogs on the grass. Jared was nothing more than an adorable oversized kid, giggling cheerfully as he wrestled with Harley and Sadie, smiling as the dogs climbed all over him and barked joyfully.

Jensen didn’t know how he became so blessed to have an amazing man like Jared in his life, but he was ever thankful. When Jared entered the house, Jensen pulled him close and kissed him, a sweet coffee flavored caress that spoke of love and joy, and happiness. After he had kissed Jared breathless, he hugged him tightly and whispered, “I love you, Jared.”

Tucking Jensen into his arms, Jared hugged his boyfriend tightly, even squeezing Jensen a little too snug that his boyfriend literally squeaked, setting Jared off into a giggle fit.

Jensen smiled, happy and overjoyed with the wonderful life he’d been granted, and the sound of Jared’s delightful warm laughter was everything that was good and perfect in his wonderful world.

♥ END ♥

[dreammaidenn.livejournal.com]

Any, Any, Love me, because love doesn't exist, and I have tried everything that does.

[dreammaidenn.livejournal.com]

Hannibal, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter,
I can't leave
'Till death do us part
But my hearts getting dark
On the edge of the cliff

Fill: Hannibal's Will

[darkhavens.livejournal.com]

The plan was simple enough: kill The Great Red Dragon, and then kill Hannibal, whatever the cost. Jack had made it perfectly clear that Will was to do what was necessary, that he needed to do what was necessary, to pay whatever price was required. Jack knew just which buttons to push to send Will's empathy disorder into overdrive. He'd been punching those buttons for years before Will had managed to slip the leash.

And now Will could feel the collar pulling tight again, an inescapable noose. No more second chances. No going back to Molly and Wally, back to the dogs and the motors and the quiet of the stream. It hadn't even taken facing Hannibal again for him to know that life was well and truly over. One glimpse of Hannibal's elegant calligraphy on that envelope has been enough to break open all the locked and barred, walled-up and plastered-over doors buried deep within the basement of his memory palace.

Seeing Hannibal again was like an addict's first fix after a three year dry spell. It was fire in his veins, an overwhelming rush; a near-fatal overdose. It was climbing into a roller-coaster car knowing you had half a dozen critical bolts in your pocket, so why bother with the safety bar?

Even if Molly would take him back after bringing The Great Red Dragon into their lives, into their house, endangering her, and worse, her son, Will knew he could never squeeze himself back into the confines of that life.

The darkness in him had had three long years to sit and simmer out of sight, though never entirely out of mind. Tucked away and ignored, denied, it had woven monstrous wings from the tatters of his soul, stitched together with stifled threads of yearning and given structure by bone-deep hunger, painted over with the blackest of bloody desires.

And now it was free.

Besting the The Great Red Dragon had only whetted its appetite for destruction. A sip of water after three years in the desert only serves to worsen a thirst.

Jack's plan was simple, basic, almost entirely deficient in detail beyond "Kill them all; save yourself if you feel you must." But it wasn't Will's plan, it wasn't his design.

The new design wasn't entirely his either, but Hannibal had made such a point of showing him the crumbling bluff, the land falling away in perpetuity to the rocks below, it would have been rude not to take the bait. He'd name-checked Miriam and Abigail to make sure their faces were embedded in the forefront of Will's memory as he stared down at the crashing waves and thought of vengeance.

If Hannibal's- No, if their design required they tumble into the turbulent ocean, Will was content to make the fall in Hannibal's arms, held close to the heart that dictated the beat of his own.

If it was Hannibal's will, they'd survive the fall. If not...

If not, he was Hannibal's Will, and together they'd fall, forever.

[dreammaidenn.livejournal.com]

Merlin (TV), Arthur Pendragon/Merlin, I can shut you up with a kiss.

Fill

[nagi-schwarz.livejournal.com]

Arthur's heart pounds. His palm wrapped around the hilt of his sword is slick with sweat. There's too many of them. He and Merlin have been lucky many times, but their luck will not hold forever. Their best chance is to stay quiet, stay hidden, and wait for Hengist's men to pass.

Merlin, busy as he is with their packs, has not seen the army yet.

He turns toward Arthur, opens his mouth. A loud, insolent comment is clearly waiting on the tip of his tongue.

Arthur lunges at him and kisses him. Wraps an arm around him and pulls him close, pulls him down so the soldiers will not see.

Merlin makes the tiniest noise and Arthur swipes his tongue against Merlin's, and Merlin is silent, pressed against him, kissing back eagerly.

Arthur presses him further into the leaves, kisses him again and again and again, and finally, the soldiers' footsteps have faded.

He sits up, peers over the ridge. No soldiers in sight. They're safe now.

Merlin is gaping at him.

Arthur leans in, kisses him softly, gently, and gestures at the half-empty packs. It's time for them to go.

[sapphire2309]

any, any, fire

Vikings,Athelstan/Ragnar-You are the Heat and the Light

[dreammaidenn.livejournal.com]

Fire consumes, destroys everything in its wake. They've whispered in his ear of how Surtr will bring the end setting the world ablaze. Until then the only burning flame Athelstan has experienced is the one swallowing him. The one rising from within himself as Ragnar's lips touch his skin fighting the cold and doubts away. As his own naked body presses itself against Ragnar's and warm possessive hands settle over him with a fervor he's only known while praying, fingers leaving scars with his name.

He's afraid of what he means to the other man. Of the danger of every touch and word uttered into the roaring silence. He's walking on live coals guided by Ragnar's hand and the worst is that while afraid he is willing to follow him wherever goes. He's willing to be consumed and wrecked.

He kisses Ragnar without restraint, closing his eyes, letting himself be led to the end of the world and back.

[sapphire2309]

any, any, take my empty body and discover me, infinity

Fill 1/2: SGA/Dollhouse, Foxtrot John Sheppard

[nagi-schwarz.livejournal.com]

These days, John couldn't sleep. He wasn't known for his patience or his stillness, as Teer would have been well able to attest while she was trying to teach him to meditate. He wasn't as fidgety as some other people, but he didn't like to be lazy. And the lull in Atlantis the past few weeks was unsettling. He was a soldier. He was used to being in constant alert, ready for danger. There were wraith, there were Genii, there were well-meaning but hapless Pegasus coalition members trying to screw things up for Atlantis and endanger its inhabitants.

For the last little while, the biggest danger hadn't come from any of those threats – it had come from inside Atlantis, from Sergeant Ceccoli and his technological ambitions, from Rodney and Lorne's well-meaning eavesdropping, and from John's confession. The external serenity was unsettling, and John couldn't sleep.

Everyone had tried to be supportive. Ronon seemed as uncaring of John's revelation as he had been before, when he'd seen glimpses of Traci knitting or doing yoga or Architect drawing or Songwriter playing guitar. Zelenka was careful to speak only English around John, which meant once or twice he'd cut himself off in the middle of a tirade in Czech, to the puzzlement of the other scientists around him.

Teyla offered to accompany him on any sojourn he wished to make. After he'd explained that one of his imprints was transgender, a concept for which there was no Athosian parallel, she'd taken it upon herself to be his girl talk BFF should the need ever arise, which it hadn't.

Woolsey kept making random demands designed to require John to use skills or knowledge belonging to the other imprints, like tasking him with helping Rodney solve a math and physics problem, or assisting the engineers with some renovations to part of the city that had been flooded, or even translation with some of the international expedition members whose English was a little shakier than others'. He was trying to prove to himself - or maybe someone else - that John wasn't a liability after all.

Keller kept coming up with reasons to drop by and check on him, just say hi, see how he was feeling.

Lorne acted like nothing had changed, like John was still the John Sheppard Lorne had always known and served with, and he made no mention of Joe.

And Rodney...Rodney was avoiding him.

John hated it, because he remembered the love and acceptance Rodney had offered when John confessed to him for the first time, when Rodney's mind was failing and John's last-ditch attempt at holding onto him was to tell him he loved him.

John hated it, and he was agitated, and all his imprints were agitated, and he couldn't sleep.

So he didn't.

He lay in the darkness, trying to count sheep, trying to meditate like the English teacher suggested, but it wasn't working. He rolled to his feet and went into the bathroom to see about taking a warm shower. That would help him relax. Only he caught his reflection in the mirror, and he stared. Where Rodney had seen him, Foxtrot John Sheppard, now he saw only...emptiness. A doll. A hollow thing where an infinite number of ghosts could be stored and called up at will, ghosts meant to be used and tossed aside. That was how his makers had designed him, and that was how Rodney saw him.

But he wasn't that. Not anymore. He was himself. He was every single one of those people, and he was something more. He was a dozen lifetimes and one soldier in another galaxy from home.

John stared at his face, at what was one Joe's face and now was his face, and he decided, Screw it.

So he went on a rampage.

It was his designated Sunday tomorrow. He could do whatever the hell he wanted. So he did.

[cozy-coffee.livejournal.com]

Any, any/any, Touch Me(One Night with Sole Regret)

Fill, Supernatural, Sam/Dean, h/c

[dreammaidenn.livejournal.com]

He's reflected in his brother's eyes, the awe and admiration Sam has felt for Dean since they were little boys still remains. He drowns out his name with a kiss because he doesn't want to hear, doesn't want to think. Dean wants this moment to last longer than the night, but it is just a folly.

Sam had come into his room, asking for a refuge away from the nightmares plaguing his nights. From the visions he can't stop. Dean could only comply, building a shelter for Sam underneath his bed sheets, warming him up little by little, chasing the monsters away with kisses against his eyelids, and Sam lay against fluffy pillows wanting to bring him stubbornly closer, their breaths mingling in the quiet.

It was a foolish thing to do, but Dean couldn't stop, couldn't say no. Not when Sam was in his bed so willing and wanting him so openly if only for one night.

Like a child Sam makes grabby hands at him, making him laugh, Dean can resist him. Finally, they lay chest to chest and Dean takes a breath to steady himself and presses a kiss to Sam's cheek so soft it's barely there.

Sam's green eyes say everything Dean can't voice out, but he'll take the invitation mirrored in them and lay everything at Sam's feet even when regret might come looking for him once it dawns.

They fumble clumsily with their clothes, elated, carefree in the safe haven they created out of sheer willpower and the need to be together. Dean kisses Sam on the corner of his mouth, down his neck following a trail to his shoulder, keeping the memory of his skin engraved on his mind and his own flesh.

Dean feels greedy when he kisses Sam again, tasting him and taking him in his tongue, sending him reeling when Sam kisses him back with the same intensity. With the same intent. Sam's blunt nails dig into his back, urging him to go on. Dean can never say no to him.

He takes a deep breath when Sam opens his legs, and Dean almost loses his balance, looking at him as if he wants to confirm this isn't a part of his imagination. But it's not. Sam is truly in his bed, under the covers with him whispering in his ear and pushing him down. Dean kisses his belly and Sam's gasps because of the tickle of his breath against his too warm skin.

Dean falls between his parted legs, gaining access once he preps Sam and he's a mess, eyes shut tight and lip trapped between his lips. The pitter-patter of Sam's heart echoes throughout his body reaching Dean's as he grips his hips tight, Sam's legs wrapped around him. He loses himself in the feel of Sam, in his moans and his grip. On every single kiss he lays for him to collect and take with him and never forget.

He's blinded by it all, and in the haze he can hear Sam saying his name like a mantra he believes to be sacred.

Spent, Sam curls his body around Dean's, his head pressed against his chest, and Dean is sure he is listening to his heartbeat, and for a moment he is afraid it's going to betray him and Sam will find out exactly what he's feeling, but if he does he doesn't say anything or leaves Dean alone in bed like he had feared. Instead, Sam throws one arm around him and Dean begins carding his fingers through Sam's long hair.

Sam begins to fall asleep, Dean can tell by the way his breathing evens out and the grip he had on the sheet drops. Dean wants to savor this, enjoy every single moment and tries to fight sleep, but in the end he gives in.

Maybe they won't be gone with the dawn.

[cozy-coffee.livejournal.com]

Any, any, A Tear and a Smile

1 sentence, RPF Louis Tomlinson/Harry Styles

[tigriswolf]

It gets to be too much, sometimes, all the things they can't do - but Louis never once considers just giving in, giving everything up, because through it all, Harry is there, still holding his hand, even if it's just a look across the stage, even if it's just a quick brush against him as they walk, even if it's just another tattoo they'll lie about to whoever asks, because at the end of it all, he's still that boy from the toilet who blushed when Louis promised him he'd become the biggest thing in the world - so Louis writes him more songs, and gently tugs at his curls that are getting so long now, and his doubts never get further than a whisper into the butterfly on Harry's skin, because he promised this boy the world once, and he's not going to let anyone make a liar of him.

[cozy-coffee.livejournal.com]

Author’s choice, author’s choice, Tell Me Your Dreams

Fill: Sandman, Desire

[nagi-schwarz.livejournal.com]

Desire didn't deal in dreams. He dealt in desires. But desires were similar to dreams. In the waking world, the cute girl at the bookstore who always seemed to linger a little too long in the graphic novel section became, in dreams, the vinyl-clad superheroine who was in love with the nerdy boy who was always picked last in PE. Sometimes Desire lingered on the edges of someone's mind while they slept and glimpsed what they saw while in her brother's realm, and she pondered. Should she ignite the spark of desire reciprocated in the girl? Or should he stoke the nerdy boy's desire from torch to forest fire? So one day, at the bookstore, where the boy was hiding behind a copy of Batman and sneaking looks at the girl of his dreams over the rim of a cup of coffee, Desire sat down opposite him and gazed into his eyes, searched his heart.

Tell me your dreams.

[tigriswolf]

RPF, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, entire conversations in looks exchanged and head tilts and raised eyebrows

[tigriswolf]

author's choice, author's choice, no words were necessary

Fill 1/2: Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard/Rodney McKay

[brumeier.livejournal.com]

The cell was white – ceiling, floor, walls – with nothing to break up the empty expanses of it. No windows, no door, no ornamentation of any kind. Rodney had made a thorough study of it after he woke up on the floor, head pounding; it hadn’t taken long.

Less easy to examine was the thick metal collar around Rodney’s throat. It was tight – he could feel it every time he swallowed – but beyond that there was nothing on the smooth surface to tell him how it worked or how to get it off. He understood all too well what it did, after several minutes of fruitless shouting.

The collar had taken his voice away.

Rodney was sure Sheppard would get a laugh out of that, if only he knew where Sheppard was. Or the rest of his team for that matter. The last thing he remembered was running for the Gate, unhappy natives giving chase. He must’ve been stunned, and since he’d been just a little behind the others maybe they got away. He hoped they did, because that meant his rescue was a foregone conclusion.

He took another pass around the cell, looking for the seam of the door he knew had to be there. Unless he’d been beamed inside, which didn’t seem likely given the level of tech he’d seen during his brief interaction with the Jaldun. Then again, he wouldn’t have guessed they had anything like the collar either.

Rodney growled in frustration; he could feel the vibration in his throat but no sound came out. He slid down the wall and sat on the floor. The cell was a comfortable temperature, which was good because his captors had changed him out of his black BDUs and into plain linen pants and a tunic in a light shade of blue. Rodney bemoaned the loss of this tac vest and its pockets full of tools.

You can’t keep me here! he wanted to shout. He hated not being able to talk, to work things out verbally. Or even just complain, which often helped to soothe his nerves. He didn’t like the unrelenting silence, which settled over him with a palpable weight. He attempted to combat it by tapping his fingers on the floor, unconsciously picking out Holst’s “Mars”, which he’d last played on the piano a lifetime ago.

Sheppard would come, he always came, but Rodney didn’t want to be sitting around like some kind of damsel in distress. He needed to figure out a way to help himself. If only he had some information, some small clue that would spark his genius into high gear.

Rodney didn’t notice the gas at first; he was too absorbed in visualizing what was sure to be a humiliating rescue. By the time he did notice it was too late. The gas was a fog surrounding Rodney, and he wasn’t able to get away from it. He stumbled trying to get to his feet and fell, landing painfully on his hip.

Panic raced through him, his heart pounding in his ears, but he couldn’t move. His arms were numb, legs too, and he was sure it was only a matter of time until his lungs seized up as well and he stopped breathing.

Help! he screamed soundlessly, right before he passed out.

[leni-ba.livejournal.com]

any. any. delusion

[leni-ba.livejournal.com]

any Whedonverse. any. authority

Fill: Dollhouse, Topher

[nagi-schwarz.livejournal.com]

(Blink and you miss it SGA as well)

Topher was a glorified programmer. Well, he was a programmer and a genius, and his work had been praised, but truth was, there was no glory in it. And half the time no one listened to him anyway. Getting Ivy to bring him much-needed snacks so he could manage his hypoglycemia was like taking a cat for a walk, and if she did obey, it was with much eye-rolling and disdain. The handlers never gave a damn what he said either, because they always brought the actives back with dents and scratches. And half the time the actives didn't even listen to him. He was pretty sure Foxtrot had gotten uppity with him once, and actives weren't supposed to be capable of uppity behavior while in the doll state. Topher was a minion with a mouse pad, much as he hated to admit it. No authority whatsoever, not in any way that counted. (He'd have scrubbed Foxtrot completely after that disaster in Afghanistan, but money spoke louder than science, and now Foxtrot was somewhere they couldn't reach. Apparently money wasn't everything.) As much as that realization was a bitter pill to swallow, it didn't stop him from asking DeWitt if he could use an active to run a diagnostic, and it didn't stop him from imprinting Sierra with Sasha, his best friend from seventh grade who'd committed suicide the summer before eighth. His birthday only came once a year, after all.