Tuesday: Book Titles
Jan. 9th, 2018 12:05 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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comment_ficHi! I’m ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
brumeier, and this week we’re going to be having fun with pop culture! Today's theme is BOOK TITLES! Prompts must be book titles. Any book titles!
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 spoiler cut.
If there are possible triggers in your story, please warn for them in the subject line!
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...
+ Stargate Multiverse, Any, How Not to Die (Michael Greger)
+ Marvel Cinematic Universe, Bucky Barnes, A Head Full of Ghosts (Paul Tremblay)
+ Lucifer (TV), Any, Practical Magic (Alice Hoffman)
+ Any, Any m/m, Kidnapped by the Pirate (Keira Andrews)
We use 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 Lonely Prompts Spreadsheet 1 (not very current), Lonely Prompts Spreadsheet 2, or the Calendar Archives, or for more recent prompts, you can use LJ's advanced search options to find prompts to request and/or fill.
While the Lonely Prompts Spreadsheets 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=book titles
brumeier, and this week we’re going to be having fun with pop culture! Today's theme is BOOK TITLES! Prompts must be book titles. Any book titles! 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 spoiler cut.
If there are possible triggers in your story, please warn for them in the subject line!
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...
+ Stargate Multiverse, Any, How Not to Die (Michael Greger)
+ Marvel Cinematic Universe, Bucky Barnes, A Head Full of Ghosts (Paul Tremblay)
+ Lucifer (TV), Any, Practical Magic (Alice Hoffman)
+ Any, Any m/m, Kidnapped by the Pirate (Keira Andrews)
We use 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 Lonely Prompts Spreadsheet 1 (not very current), Lonely Prompts Spreadsheet 2, or the Calendar Archives, or for more recent prompts, you can use LJ's advanced search options to find prompts to request and/or fill.
While the Lonely Prompts Spreadsheets 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=book titles
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no subject
Date: 2018-01-09 05:05 am (UTC)Mini Fill: Evan Lorne + Rodney McKay
Date: 2018-01-09 09:10 pm (UTC)Today they were locked in an alien jail cell, hopefully while Teyla and Elizabeth bargained for their release. Rodney had thought maybe John, who was still cranky at him over Arcturus, had sent Lorne to escort him as a punishment. Who the punishment was for was up for debate.
“What other courses did you skip in Major School?”
“Besides hunting down a skilled weapons expert hopped up on Wraith drugs in the pitch black of an alien planet?” Lorne was pressed against the door as far from Rodney as he could get.
In Rodney’s defense, the smell was just as likely from the livestock in the next pen over as it was from Rodney himself. He’d showered that morning.
“I also skipped not killing irritating scientists and aliens hate people with blue eyes.”
“Did you take any useful courses in Major School?” Rodney demanded. “Like, for instance, how not to die?”
“It’s actually called Air War College,” Lorne said and continued, without a trace of sarcasm, “and nothing can save us from dying. All the planning and caution in the universe will not save a single man. Poor choices can increase casualties, and as a commanding officer, I’m responsible for any person I lose, but I can never, ever be under the illusion that I save anyone. If we all make it home at the end of the day, we got lucky. And we better pray that we keep getting lucky.”
“I don’t believe in luck or prayer.” Rodney crossed his arms over his chest, shivering.
“Lucky for you,” Lorne said, and Rodney rolled his eyes, “I did take lock-picking 401 from the California Youth Authority.”
Rodney sat up straighter. “What?”
Lorne sat back and pulled his arm back through the bars of the door, grimacing and shaking out his hand. “Ready?”
“Ready to what?”
“Escape from this cattle pen and get back to the gate.” Lorne started taking off his boots. “One course I did take in Major School was improvised weapons.”
“If by weapons you mean the smell of your feet, the only person you’re defeating is me.” Rodney wrinkled his nose.
But Lorne stripped off his socks, then shoved his feet back into his boots and laced them back up. He knelt and gathered up handfuls of gravel, shoved them into his socks till they were about a quarter of the way full. He packed the gravel down into a solid ball, stretched his socks, knotted them.
Bludgeoning weapons, Rodney realized.
Lorne offered one to him.
Rodney stared at the dirty soldier sock and remembered beggars couldn’t be choosers.
Then Lorne eased the door open, checked their surroundings.
“It’s clear. Let’s go.”
Re: Mini Fill: Evan Lorne + Rodney McKay
From:Re: Mini Fill: Evan Lorne + Rodney McKay
From:no subject
Date: 2018-01-09 05:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-01-09 05:06 am (UTC)Fill: Practical Magic, Linda Martin + Lucifer
Date: 2018-04-16 02:18 am (UTC)Lucifer raised his eyebrows. "Tell you what, Doctor?"
"Is it." Linda hesitated. Twined her fingers together. Pressed on. "Is it real?"
"What, you mean like the Burbank Avenue illusionists who con people out of their money? The Three-Card Monty dealers?"
"No." Linda frowned at him. "I mean magic."
"Oh, for the love of...you mean witchcraft?" Lucifer tsked. "Doctor, I thought you more pragmatic, really."
"Witchcraft, magic..." A thought clicked into place and she focused on him again. "Witchcraft is a type of religion but the Salem witch hunts. Did you have anything to do with that? And the European hunts?"
"No." Lucifer had that distasteful, horrified expression on his face. "Those people were innocent worshippers of the trees. Talk to Father about those people dying! I had nothing to do with it!" He flared his nostrils and widened his eyes and slashed the air with the blade of his hand. "I didn't coax those people to follow me! They were women and men who had some skills in healing others with herbs. Some simply had the bad fortune of being ugly, hair-lipped or skew-eyed. Others were widows who had land men wanted. Men - so-called doctors of medicine - couldn't stand the power some of these women had and turned their fellow villagers against them." With a huff, he shot his cuffs and leaned back into the couch but Linda could see his mood had soured.
"So..." she said, trying to turn Lucifer back to his charming self rather than this darkly-brooding creature. "What about actual magic?"
"All smoke and mirrors." He brushed aside the question physically with a wave of his hand. "No such thing as unicorns, no fairies. No swords in stones or magic arrows."
A little part of Linda felt hurt at that but she kept it to herself. After all, coming back as a chameleon meant she'd have to eat bugs, right? "That's actually disappointing."
"Really?" Lucifer cocked his head at her. "I would've thought you, a woman of science, would be above that sort of thinking."
"Inside every woman - and most men, too - there is still a little child who wants to believe in magic." She bridled a bit at Lucifer's snort. "What?"
He chuckled. "Next you'll tell me you believe the Easter bunny has to do with the Resurrection!"
Re: Fill: Practical Magic, Linda Martin + Lucifer
From:Re: Fill: Practical Magic, Linda Martin + Lucifer
From:no subject
Date: 2018-01-09 05:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-01-09 10:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-01-09 10:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-01-09 10:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-01-09 10:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-01-09 10:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-01-09 12:11 pm (UTC)Fill 1/3: Ronon Dex/Evan Lorne
Date: 2018-01-10 04:07 am (UTC)Ronon tossed two Marines, sending them crashing back down on the practice mat, and he hadn’t even broken a sweat yet. He looked forward to training days because he liked close fighting, liked putting his hands on his opponent and besting them out of sheer strength and endurance. Not that he'd ever part with his blaster, but to feel the shift of another man's muscles and knowing they wouldn't be able to best him was a pretty good feeling.
Major Lorne sent in three Marines this time and Ronon bared his teeth, set his feet. He could take whatever Lorne sent his way, and do so gladly. As he grappled with the men that were supposedly the best trained military the Earthers had, Ronon could feel Lorne's eyes on him. And maybe flexed his own muscles more than he needed.
He who is prudent and lies in wait for an enemy who is not, will be victorious.
Ronon had never gone running with Lorne – his preferred exercise partners were Sheppard and Cadman, but never both at the same time – but that didn't mean he didn't know the route that Lorne preferred when he went running alone instead of with his team.
It was easy, then, to meet up with Lorne at a T-junction and make it look like a coincidence, two runners converging on the same path. Although if the Major was at all surprised when Ronon suddenly appeared he did a very good job of hiding it.
"Ronon."
"Lorne."
Those were the only words between them, but Ronon was fine with silences. They breathed, legs pumping, and Ronon didn't have to shorten his stride for Lorne to keep up.
Rewards for good service should not be deferred a single day.
It was late, and the infirmary lights had been dimmed. Marie was on duty, but she waved Ronon through with a tired smile. He meant to leave the gift on the table next to Lorne's bed and leave, but when he turned away Lorne said his name in hushed tones.
"Ronon?"
"Didn't mean to wake you," Ronon said, keeping his voice low in deference to the people in the other beds who were sleeping.
"You didn't. Just can't sleep."
Lorne's team had come to help extract Ronon's after an ambush. McKay had twisted his ankle – he was two beds over, snoring softly – and Lorne had taken a hit in his side. Beckett called it a through-and-through, because the bullet didn't hit any major organs. Ronon wasn't a big fan of the projectile weapons the Earthers and the Genii used.
"What's this?" Lorne reached for the rolled piece of paper, grimacing just a little as he shifted on the bed.
"Just a thank you."
Ronon didn't have much. Years of being a Runner had taught him to travel light, so he wasn't in the habit of collecting things that didn't serve some kind of beneficial purpose. What he did have were words, the kind he normally didn't share with others. He'd been a poet, once.
Lorne unrolled the paper, eyes moving rapidly as he read the words Ronon had haltingly written in English.
"You wrote this?" he asked when he was finished. "It's beautiful."
"Thanks." Ronon wasn't sure what else to say, so he left. But the sincerely happy expression on Lorne's face would stay with him.
Re: Fill 2/3: Ronon Dex/Evan Lorne
From:Re: Fill 3/3: Ronon Dex/Evan Lorne
From:Re: Fill 3/3: Ronon Dex/Evan Lorne
From:Re: Fill 3/3: Ronon Dex/Evan Lorne
From:Re: Fill 3/3: Ronon Dex/Evan Lorne
From:no subject
Date: 2018-01-09 12:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-01-09 12:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-01-09 01:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-01-09 01:11 pm (UTC)Any, Any, Strength Of The Pack
Date: 2018-01-10 07:55 pm (UTC)He knew he was pack, Scott had told him enough times. Derek had even told him. He even felt it. But being only one out of one or two humans of a pack of supernatural beings had him worrying he was missing out on something. Or that he really wasn't part of their pack, just tolerated because he was Scott's best friend or Derek's boyfriend.
Derek had reassured him time and again that he wasn't missing out on anything, except the pain of transforming from human to wolf form. He'd watched it and knew it was painful, bones and organs shifting, skin and muscle tearing, making way for the new form to emerge from the old.
He was happy to be just 'plain old human,' not void Stiles, a wolf or anything else. Watching his friends go through such painful moments, unable to control the shift at times made him shudder.
There had been a time when he'd wished for the bite, to be more than what he was. But, he'd been able to find happiness in being the 'odd man out,' in their pack.
The only time he secretly wished to be more was when he was alone with Derek. He wondered what it would be like to shed his human form, to find himself covered in fur, on four legs instead of two. To run in wolf form with Derek beside him. He wondered if Derek would tire of his human boyfriend, wanting, needing one like himself. Someone who would understand what it was he went through on a Lunar cycle.
Derek had sensed his fear. Had even told him that he loved him the way he was. There was no need for Stiles to worry. No need for self doubt. But still, he was the human in their relationship. Derek offered him unconditional love, telling him he didn't care if he was human or other. Derek loved him for himself, not what he could transform into.
When Derek had given him the book, he'd told him it would help him understand. Packs were made up of more than ones who were otherworldly. "Just read the book, Stiles. You'll see, you'll understand," Derek said with a kiss against his neck.
That's why he sat back down, pulled the book back onto his lap and flipped to the next page. He was beginning to understand Derek's words to him.
RE: Any, Any, Strength Of The Pack
From:Re: Any, Any, Strength Of The Pack
From:no subject
Date: 2018-01-09 01:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-01-09 01:16 pm (UTC)(Sterling Johnson)
no subject
Date: 2018-01-09 01:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-01-09 01:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-01-09 01:49 pm (UTC)Pirates of the Caribbean - Jack/Will Fill 1/2
Date: 2018-01-09 02:52 pm (UTC)All He Ever Really Needed
He didn’t think he’d ever make it here, but he has. He has seen so many friends and allies die, so many grand adventures, so many horrible disasters. It seems a wonder that he should still be alive some forty odd years after he first awoke and found himself lost at sea. He still doesn’t remember much about his earlier years. There are some vague recollections about his father, vaguer still about his mother’s gentle hands, but nothing more.
For a long time, Jack thought he needed something more. He thought he needed a family, a place to belong. He thought he needed the Pearl and tracked after her for years. He’s gone through dimensions. He’s travelled through time. He’s fought things in which most people will never believe, endured things that even some Pirates, despite being the superstitious lot they are, refuse to believe.
And yet here he is, still surviving, still alone, and finally ready to make the grandest sacrifice, and achieve his ultimate dream, at last. “Are ye sure, boy?”
“Jack, think about what ye’re doing! This is a final deal!”
“It’s not like I’m selling me soul to the Devil,” he says, “an’ I’m not a boy any more.”
Barbossa smirks at him. “Ye’re still a lad, but a lad wit’out a ship, wit’out yer home,” he teases him, knowing damn well what the Pearl has always meant to him.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Jack returns. Despite everything, he’s calm. He’s been planning this for years, after all, and it had taken him almost as long to make the decision to go through with his plans as it had for Barbossa to crawl back out from Davy Jones’ locker yet again. The three Pirates turn together to look at the Pearl. She’s grand and beautiful, her sails billowing out like huge, dark clouds. “I’m sure,” he insists. “Hell, ye can even have th’ hat.” He takes his Captain’s hat off of his head and pauses for a moment, feeling naked, before plopping it unceremoniously onto Barbossa’s. “I’m done with that life. It’s not th’ life I need.”
He saunters off down the dock, feeling Barbossa’s and Gibbs’ eyes trailing after him. Cotton’s parrot squawks and ruffles his feathers. “Loony,” the bird calls, but Jack doesn’t look back. He doesn’t need anything they can possibly offer him. There’s only one thing he needs now, and it is within his grasp at long last now that he’s finally made amends with Barbossa.
His greatest treasure to his greatest foe. Jack smirks as a salty breeze waves over his tired face, reminding him of the Sea Witch who had cursed him and the deal he had made to get back what was always meant to be his or, rather, who. Reaching the end of the dock, he slips a hand into his soiled, once-white blouse and pulls out the bottle he’s kept for years right close to his heart. He can see teeny figures scurrying around inside the bottle, but he can’t make out who they are or what they’re doing.
Re: Pirates of the Caribbean - Jack/Will Fill 2/2
From:RE: Re: Pirates of the Caribbean - Jack/Will Fill 2/2
From:no subject
Date: 2018-01-09 01:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-01-09 03:07 pm (UTC)“Come with me to try out a new submarine I’ve been tinkering with.”
“A submarine? Tony why on the earth would you build a submarine? Doesn’t the suit protect you underwater?”
“Well yes. It does but it doesn’t protect the people I care about. It doesn’t protect you and Pepper. This way the submarine can protect you too.”
Phil couldn’t help the fond smile that came. Tony always wanted to make sure the people he cared about were protected. It’s the root of where most of his greatest inventions came from. “Okay. Show me you’re latest masterpiece.”
Together they headed to the old warehouse district along the Hudson River to where Tony had his latest laboratory. He just shook his head when he saw the submarine sitting in the dry dock. “I not sure if I should be impressed or scared,” he admitted.
“Beautiful isn’t it?”
He could hear the pride in Tony’s voice. “It’s a cross between Jules Verne and Irwin Allen.”
“Both classics.”
“One is a classic Tony, the other is a cult classic of cheesy 1960s Sci-Fi.”
“But still a classic.”
“Only you would think so,” Phil teased. “Okay, put her in the water and lets see what she has.”
“Really?”
“Yes, Really Tony,” he told his lover. He didn’t often give in to Tony’s whims, but he had to admit it looked intriguing. And part of him wondered if the inside was more Jules Verne luxury or. Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea starkness, and if there was a flying sub.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2018-01-09 01:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-01-09 03:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-01-09 03:09 pm (UTC)Fill: DC - Jonathan Crane
Date: 2018-01-11 11:57 pm (UTC)Passing winds would momentarily let moonlight shine through the thick blanket of clouds overhead, before the greedy skies swallowed its glow once more. That night, a waning crescent was Scarecrow's only onlooker.
Demons, vampires, and ghosts had followed him along the streets that night. They ran ahead of him, darting through backalleys and shortcuts like excited fans fresh streaming from a stadium after a home team's victory. They clawed at windows, dove into sewers, and slipped through cracks beneath doors.
Now they only danced on the edge of his vision, so faint that he could barely tell them from the surrounding shadows.
While his new gas was potent, the good doctor would sooner prescribe it in liquid form. Even now, some of it still swam in his veins, mingling with his blood and bone.
A dog barked, the sound breaking through the air like a firework. His lips, slowly turning upwards, pressed against burlap. Maybe people around here knew how to make a halfway decent security investment.
Pulling a cannister from his belt, Jonathan raised it to the sky like a glass of wine to be toasted.
Jonathan's heart beat faster, his whole body tingling. Like all vices, abstinence only fed the fires of temptation.
The first cannister fell from his hands onto a perfectly mowed lawn. It sat for a moment, a still speck that Jonathan had to squint to see. A cloud of gas burst forth a heartbeat later, flowing first upward and then outward across the air. Even fifteen feet above it, the scent of salvia tickled his nose.
One rooftop and then another. The next cannister was thrown hard than a star pitcher's baseball, cracking open as soon as it hit the ground. Green smoke filled the air, thick as a fog.
Things like this didn't happen on this side of the city.
At least not before tonight.
Christmas was months away, but the gift of fear came free year round. A woman stumbled out of her house before suddenly falling facedown on her porch, coughing profusely.
A short time later, just a little further off, a scream came. One, then two.
Pulling off his mask, Jonathan's sweat-glistened face met cool air. Grinning, he leaned back, elbow joints and back popping, and took a long, deep breath.
Re: Fill: DC - Jonathan Crane
From:no subject
Date: 2018-01-09 03:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-01-09 03:10 pm (UTC)