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Oct. 21st, 2009 05:35 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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comment_ficHello! It's me again. Everyone was fabulous yesterday - there were some pretty awesome prompts given and some good fics received.
Today's theme is, because I am an evil, evil person and intend on wasting your whole day, TVTropes. Yes, THAT TVTropes. Always wanted your favorite characters to enact your favorite trope? Have at it! The idea here being to give a fandom, character/pairing/leave it up to the author, and link to a specific trope to be included in the prompt.
Rules: No more than 5 prompts (3 per fandom). After that you may only put up prompts when someone answers one of your previous prompts. If none of the prompts today appeal to you, dig into the Lonely Prompts archive here! There are lots of beautiful prompts waiting for you to write them. The prompts format should be: Fandom, Character/Pairing, prompt.
Chronicles of Narnia, Peter/Susan, Battle Couple
Battlestar Galactica, Apollo/Starbuck, Kiss Kiss Slap
Supernatural, Dean & Sam, Arson Murder And Jaywalking
(Regarding formatting, hyperlinking code is <a href= "link here" >title here< /a> without the spaces.)
[Theme tag="TVTropes"]
Today's theme is, because I am an evil, evil person and intend on wasting your whole day, TVTropes. Yes, THAT TVTropes. Always wanted your favorite characters to enact your favorite trope? Have at it! The idea here being to give a fandom, character/pairing/leave it up to the author, and link to a specific trope to be included in the prompt.
Rules: No more than 5 prompts (3 per fandom). After that you may only put up prompts when someone answers one of your previous prompts. If none of the prompts today appeal to you, dig into the Lonely Prompts archive here! There are lots of beautiful prompts waiting for you to write them. The prompts format should be: Fandom, Character/Pairing, prompt.
Chronicles of Narnia, Peter/Susan, Battle Couple
Battlestar Galactica, Apollo/Starbuck, Kiss Kiss Slap
Supernatural, Dean & Sam, Arson Murder And Jaywalking
(Regarding formatting, hyperlinking code is <a href= "link here" >title here< /a> without the spaces.)
[Theme tag="TVTropes"]
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no subject
Date: 2009-10-21 10:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-21 10:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-21 10:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-21 10:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-21 10:25 am (UTC)Decay of the Big Bad
Date: 2009-10-22 06:50 pm (UTC)Now nobody fears him. He can't quite figure out how that happened. It's not like he's any less able to kick ass, well nonhuman ass, but this was ridiculous.
Really how did he come to be the Angel Investigation's Babysitter of Choice? It's not like he's really good with kids or anything(the fact that he could calm any kid with a few hummed notes didn't mean anything). He was a the big bad damn it and even being with the souled wonder wasn't enough to change that.
Re: Decay of the Big Bad
From:no subject
Date: 2009-10-21 10:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-21 10:41 am (UTC)The Truth of You
Date: 2009-10-21 11:54 am (UTC)Olivia was already in the hospital room when Walter got there. She'd been there when the bomb had exploded, sending large pieces of debris in all directions. Luckily, she'd ducked in time to avoid serious injury. On the other hand, Peter hadn't been so lucky. He had turned to run, but was hit in the head by a flying piece of lumber. He had been unconscious ever since, going on six hours now with no signs of waking up anytime soon.
Walter, despite his eccentric behavior, always worried about his son. When he heard that Peter had been injured, he rushed to the hospital. Seeing his son with tubes and bandages covering the majority of his face, the rest swollen and bruised, Walter let out a sob. Olivia mumbled some words of consolation before exiting the room, feeling slightly guilty about Peter's injuries.
"Peter? Can you hear me?" The older man asked when the door had closed. He didn't expect an answer as he took the seat beside his son's bed and expectedly received none.
"Oh Peter, I'm sorry for everything. You know, this is all my fault. Most everything that has been happening is my fault." He said, finally feeling the full brunt of his life's works and accidental misdeeds.
For a long time Walter remained silent, studying his son's face and taking his hand gently. "This is my fault." He repeated, pausing as he debated his next words.
"If I hadn't replaced you all those years ago, you would never had to face any of this. I should have left you where you were and took my son's death like a man." Tears spilled down Walter's cheeks. "But you see, I loved Peter so much, how could I let him die like that? I wasn't there for him and I thought you would give me a second chance with him, but I messed even that up. I tried so hard to be a good father and a good scientist, but I'm only good at destroying. I love you Peter and I don't think I can handle losing you twice."
Walter kissed his son's hand and placed it gently back on the bed. Still crying, he looked down at the man on the bed - the son he cared about for the last twenty something years - and thought about Peter, the real Peter. The one who died as a little boy. Wiping at his eyes, he left the room trying to think of a way to redeem himself to his to Peter.
When the door opened and closed, the door clicking softly as it closed, Peter opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. A range of emotions raged through him as he lied there, everything from confusion to anger. He didn't understand everything Walter had said, but in a way he did. The realization of what the old man had said was oddly horrific and left Peter in a state of unease. What had he meant when he said that he had died and been replace? Certainly the old man had officially gone off the deep end?
There was no way Peter could not be himself. Right?
Re: The Truth of You
From:Re: The Truth of You
From:no subject
Date: 2009-10-21 11:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-21 02:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-21 11:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-21 11:14 am (UTC)A Kiss of Revenge
Date: 2009-10-21 01:52 pm (UTC)Alex was beyond furious. She was so angry at them, that she couldn't even think of a way to properly get back at them other then lay a spell on her floor. When either of her brothers walked into her room, they would instantly be sucked into floor as if it were quicksand and when they were all the way enveloped in the rug quicksand, they would find themselves completely naked in the family's restaurant. Max was the one who learned this the hard way. The dark haired girl was lucky enough to be downstairs in the restaurant when it happen. She even got a picture of his bare behind as he dashed upstairs. Now all she needed was Justin to fall for the trap to feel better about everything they'd done to her.
Except, of course, Justin wasn't that easy to trick. Max told him what had happened and the older teen sat back and tried to figure out a way to get around his sister's trap. Justin, knowing his sister wasn't smart enough to cover all her bases when it came to elaborate traps, knew there had to be a loophole of some kind. A loophole he did find.
It seemed any time he or Max set a foot onto Alex's bedroom floor, they would get begin to get sucked in. However, if he placed his hands on the floor, nothing happened. Grinning to himself, Justin waited until Alex wasn't at home and hand-walked into her room. It proved to be tricky as he hadn't done it since he was eleven, but he managed to make it as far as the bed and planted his lower body on it before pulling himself up the rest of the way. He planted a surprise underneath his sister's pillow, something that would make her pillow stick to her head when she got up the next morning. Getting back on his hands, he made for the door - where Alex stood with her arms crossed.
"Uh, hi Alex." Justin said meekly, swaying unsteadily.
"Up to no good, huh?" Alex asked slowly approaching her brother.
"No. I was just... Checking your floor for ants."
"While doing a handstand?"
"So I can pick them off the ground easier."
"Right." Alex said, taking hold of Justin's legs.
"What are you doing?" He asked, panicking.
"Helping you." She replied, pushing him so he landed hard on his back.
Justin's head spun dizzily as he hit the floor, but he managed to keep his feet up in the air. Alex tried to push them down, but he kicked her away and flopped about on the floor to avoid her efforts. Finally Alex stood back, thinking before smiling. The older teen didn't like the smile on his sister's face one bit. She knelt over his stomach and kissed him hard on the mouth. In his state of shock, Justin forgot to keep his feet off the floor. Bringing them down, he bucked off his sister from on top of him.
"What the hell are you thinking, Alex?" He questioned hysterically.
"I'm thinking I should get downstairs. See you in a bit."
Justin realized then he was sinking into the floor and groaned.
Re: A Kiss of Revenge
From:Re: A Kiss of Revenge
From:no subject
Date: 2009-10-21 11:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-21 11:16 am (UTC)Of Masks and Moonlight (1/2)
Date: 2009-10-21 06:19 pm (UTC)Uses my versions of Lancelot and Gawain, after Le Chevalier Mal Fet.
Also, please forgive me - I don't know as well as I should the correct fashions of the time of Camelot (and what I do know I pretty much ignored in order for them to looks pretty). I suspect, though, that things like masquerades and elaborate masks were popular quite a while after the reign of Arthur, so I suppose the rest of the costume may be excused as well.))
Gawain slid his mask onto his face, curling the hooks around his ears and studying himself in the mirror. He was dressed all in green - waistcoat of deep forest velvet, soft leather boots to match. His tunic was paler, the green of new spring, and he wore one yellow-green glove upon his right hand.
They were not his colors, not the russet and brown of his shield and sigil, but today he was remembering a lesson well taught. He slid his ungloved hand across the back of his neck, running the pads of his fingers across his long, thin scar.
As he bent his head, his dark curls fell across one eye of his mask, and he smiled at his reflection. The mask was a simple one, covering the top part of his face and leaving his lips and chin free. It was pale ivory, edged with gold leaf that ventured tendrils inwards, a bit like ivy and a bit like script. On one side the gold lines stretched from the edge of the mask to the eye of it, curled eyelashes like the rays of the sun.
Gawain fixed his cuffs and turned, looking for Lancelot.
He found him on the balcony, clutching the railing hard enough for his knuckles to go pale. He was dressed in blues and whites, his own colors, and on the railing in front of him sat his mask.
It was a whole-face affair, ivory like Gawain's, but much less ornate. There was no golden edging, no sun imagery, just pale cheekbones, lips painted blood-red, fine arched brows inked on with feather-like strokes. Gawain looked at it, and then up at Lancelot's face, lined and seamed as it was with his self-inflicted scars, and was tempted to knock the thing off the balcony, let it shatter against the ground.
"I cannot wear it." Lancelot said, not looking at him.
"It is likely meant to give you respite," Gawain said, inwardly cursing whoever had made such a mockery. "They know that for months you hid your face behind your helm, and they do not know that it is the face you hid and not the scars. They think only to give you a night's peace."
Lancelot turned to him, the moonlight catching his hair, silvering it. His eyes were blue, so blue and so sad. "What peace do I deserve, Gawain?" He asked, a little wild, and then stopped, because they would not have this argument, not again. "And what peace could this - thing give me? My old face, staring back at me in the mirror, but not flesh, no, but cold. Emotionless. Fake. Even if it were the scars that I hated - no."
Gawain picks up the mask, turning it over and over in his hands. It was a stirring likeness - pale, stylized, yes, but sculpted after the same lines as Lancelot's young, unblemished face. The lips were curled just slightly in a wondering smile, the brows tilted just so. His hands tightened at it's edges, and he had a strange, mad urge to take his knife to it, mark it up like Lancelot did his real face, make it fit the tortured soul it was meant to hide.
Of Masks and Moonlight (2/2)
From:Re: Of Masks and Moonlight (2/2)
From:no subject
Date: 2009-10-21 11:20 am (UTC)Unaware, Merlin/Arthur, PG
Date: 2009-12-10 02:54 pm (UTC)It’s not likely that anything will happen, though, because if there’s one thing to be said for Uther, it’s that he’s taught Arthur proper decorum. And while sleeping with the kitchen maids is okay as long as it’s done silently and doesn’t lead to any sort of feelings for said maids, sleeping with one’s manservant is not.
Arthur knows the rule, though it’s never occurred to him that he might have to follow it: at first it was because he believed himself above seeing his servants that way and later, it was because he didn’t think that Merlin saw him in that way. There’s no way for him to find out without risking humiliation of some sort, so he keeps quiet about it and goes on with life as if everything is normal.
It’s a miracle that neither Arthur nor Merlin has caught on yet, because, while neither of them are too obvious about it, they’re not all that subtle, either. It’s gotten to the point where the other knights have begun to notice it; visitors to Camelot; even the Great Dragon, somehow, knows what's going on. And yet, with all the attention the two pay each other, they continue to be oblivious in the one area it matters most.
Gwen wonders what it will take to get the two together, and has tried hinting to Merlin that he should tell Arthur how he feels, but Merlin always gives her that cute, confused, very guilty sort of look and claims that he doesn’t know what she is talking about. Morgana has tried the same thing with Arthur, to much the same ends, and the two have given up on the grounds that trying to get boys to talk about their feelings is absolutely useless.
It’s impractical and improbable and completely irreparable, and all anyone can do is stand by and hope for the best—though they are no longer sure what the best is. There are already too many complications for such a small kingdom, and Arthur and Merlin only add to them.
Yet Camelot lives on, its focus no longer on the King, who is growing old, but instead on the two boys that will shape its future—no one outside the castle has actually seen the two together, but there are rumors that those inside watch the two dance around each other, timid and confused, each afraid to take the one thing they truly want. They seem unaware that their destinies are so tightly intertwined that they belong together and are instead intent on playing a constant game of cat and mouse.
Camelot watches, and it weeps for the two boys who have already resigned themselves to living with what they already have.
Re: Unaware, Merlin/Arthur, PG
From:Re: Unaware, Merlin/Arthur, PG
From:no subject
Date: 2009-10-21 11:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-21 11:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-21 11:57 am (UTC)First Merlin fic! - Dinner, Merlin/Arthur, PG (1/2)
Date: 2009-12-10 02:48 pm (UTC)He’s afraid, though, that one of these days he’s going to say something that can actually be qualified as stupid, and though he’s also an bit excited for that day, he knows that once he’s crossed that line, there will be no recovering his poise and no going back.
***
The day comes sooner that Merlin expects. It’s a day that starts like any other, really; Arthur’s a prat in the morning which gets him into trouble by noon, so then of course there’s a fight in the afternoon which forces Merlin to step in on his behalf yet again (well, not forces, but strongly suggests, and Merlin’s gotten so that he doesn’t even like to see the Prince get hurt), and even after that, Arthur manages to pick up quite a few bruises from a “friendly duel.”
There’s also a scratch on his cheek that’s bleeding rather badly, and Merlin doesn’t even know where that one came from.
It’s late—almost dinner time—when Arthur finally comes in, all sweaty and dirty and bloody, and guess who gets the honor of cleaning that up?
Merlin draws a bath for Arthur, then removes the Prince’s armor as carefully as he can. It’s always a dilemma between doing it slowly, which makes the pain last longer, and doing it quickly, which makes the pain sharper yet shorter, either of which will earn Merlin glares from Arthur as he hits the bruises. Merlin bites his lip to keep himself from lecturing Arthur on how a bit of foresight and caution could keep this from being a problem at all, because Arthur has a tendency to be nearsighted and reckless, and Merlin’s telling him not to be is not one of those situations that will end well.
Instead, Merlin instructs Arthur to bathe—that’s about as much as he can get away with—and runs to Gaius to get the necessary salve for Arthur’s wounds.
Dinner, Merlin/Arthur, PG (2/2)
From:no subject
Date: 2009-10-21 12:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-21 12:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-21 12:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-21 12:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-21 01:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-21 01:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-21 01:43 pm (UTC)