Monday: Travel
Apr. 16th, 2018 08:47 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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comment_ficHello, everyone! I’m ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
reeby10 and I'm your host for the week. Today's theme is travel. Prompts can be anything related to travel, like visiting a new country, taking the bus to work, going on a road trip, etc.
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...
+ any, any +/ any, first time on an airplane
+ Hannibal (tv), Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham, hitchhiking
+ Worth It RPF, Adam Bianchi +/ Andrew Ilnyckyj +/ Steven Lim, road trip!
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 2018 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.
reeby10 and I'm your host for the week. Today's theme is travel. Prompts can be anything related to travel, like visiting a new country, taking the bus to work, going on a road trip, etc.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...
+ any, any +/ any, first time on an airplane
+ Hannibal (tv), Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham, hitchhiking
+ Worth It RPF, Adam Bianchi +/ Andrew Ilnyckyj +/ Steven Lim, road trip!
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 2018 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.
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Date: 2018-04-16 01:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-04-16 01:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-04-16 01:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-04-16 01:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-04-16 01:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-04-17 04:50 pm (UTC)The waves sounded so big that first time, Sam remembers as he and Dean pop open Baby’s doors and climb out onto the seashore. The sand gives underneath their boots as the warm sun shines down upon them. Dean moves to Baby’s trunk as Sam makes his way to the front of the car. He leans against her, feeling the warmth of the sun on his face and its effects on Baby’s hood underneath his tired and scratched hands.
His brother makes his way back to him and opens two long necked bottles of beer. He hands one to Sam, and they just sit there, enjoying the view for a while and the fact that they’re still both alive. Sam doesn’t know how long they stay like that, but he could stay there in that moment forever. It will always be one of his favorite moments of their long and haggard lives.
Finally, it’s Dean who breaks the silence as he looks to Sammy with a smirk twitching his lips. “Still feel small?” he asks.
Sam looks at the water. The waves still make a lot of noise as they crash against the beach, but they’re not nearly as frightening as they were that first time when he was so young and he had begged and begged to go see the beach in person after watching a movie for Dean and seeing one in the film for the first time. It had looked so cool, and it had proved to be a lot cooler in person.
His father had never taken him, Sam remembers; Dean and Bobby had one time when John had left them with Bobby. A tightness swells and aches in his chest. He misses his dad, but he misses Bobby even more. He’d been there for them whenever their father hadn’t. He had always done what he could to make sure they didn’t miss everything when they’d been growing up. It had been Bobby who had told them that it was okay to feel small against the ocean. You were supposed to, he’d said, and as long as your ego wasn’t inflated to the point where you didn’t fail to feel small against one of God’s most majestic creations, you weren’t completely messing or messed up.
Tears shine in Sammy’s eyes. He takes another couple of gulps of beer before muttering an answer to Dean, “Yeah.” He does still feel small against the ocean. The waves might no longer seem menacing, but they are still majestic, powerful, and awe-inspiring. They’ve saved the world too many times to count. They’ve died and come back again even when they hadn’t wanted to. They’ve continued the fight many, many times when they didn’t want to, and they’ve fought every creature anybody could name. They’ve fought God, the Devil, and everything in between, and many of those creatures had had a roar that sounded ten times larger than the ocean’s. But he still feels small against the brash, blue vastness.
“Good,” Dean answers, not daring to look at his beloved, little brother. He knows Sammy’s close to tears, and he can’t blame him. He bats down his own tears as he reaches behind him and places his free hand on top of Sammy’s. “Guess we’re still doing good.” His voice is strangled as he fights down his own tears. Quickly, he pours more alcohol down his throat before he can sob aloud. They’re still doing good. They’re still doing right by and for Bobby, and their father. He raises his bottle in a silent toast. Sam lifts his, too; then they drink together as the sun slowly sinks beyond the horizon.
The End
no subject
Date: 2018-04-16 04:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-04-16 04:20 pm (UTC)Fill: The Greatest Showman. Anne/Phillip (1/2)
Date: 2018-04-16 09:21 pm (UTC)Anne laughed, her hands covering Phillip’s as he covered her eyes. He carefully guided her forward, instructing her occasionally when they needed to move to avoid her from crashing into anything. Only once had they tripped, laughing all the way as Phillip caught her before her knees could even scrape the ground.
“Are we there yet?” she asked purposely for the umpteenth time since they’d left the safety of the Circus tent, a grin teasing at her lips at Phillip’s scoff.
“Almost,” he answered, “just a few minutes more. You’re going to love it, trust me.”
Anne hummed in response, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze. She trusted him more than words could begin to describe. This thing between them, friendship and love, was still all new to her. She wasn’t used to be treating sweetly by anyone other then W.D and it still frightened her. The world they were born in was still a mess. Others continued to sneer and ridicule her for no other reason than being graced with chocolate skin versus their vanilla. They tried to push her down and down, but Phillip would have none of it. For the first time in years, she felt safe with someone who wasn’t her brother.
“We’re here,” Phillip’s breath warmed her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. Phillip pressed flush against her back as they stopped.His hands slid slowly from her eyes, fingers nothing more than a ghost of a touch as they trailed down her cheeks and neck before settling on her shoulders.
Her eyes remained shut for a moment more, preparing herself for whatever surprise he had in store. With a quick breathe and a gentle squeeze on her shoulder, Anne opened her eyes. The widen at the sight, a soft gasp escaping her.
“Do you like it?” Phillip asked, once more causing her to shiver.
“I-,” she was at a lost for words, “Phillip, is that-?”
“A hot-air balloon? It is. Beautiful isn’t it?” She nodded and he stepped out in front of her, taking her hands in his as he beamed down at her. “It’s been all any one can talk about lately. I pulled some strings and since you enjoy flying, why not try a different sort?”
He pulled them forward, producing two tickets from his coat and handing them to the man leaning against the basket. Lost in the beautiful design of the large balloon, Anne missed the looks and whispers from around them. She would have ignored them all the same had she heard and seen them, not wanting her evening date with Phillip to be ruined.
Phillip gave her hand a gentle squeeze, seeking her attention, “Ready?”
“We’re going up?”
He laughed, “of course we are. I didn’t buy us tickets just to stay with our feet on the ground.”
She rolled her eyes, casting another look up at the hot-air balloon, “is it safe?” She didn’t know why she was stalling. Being up high had never been an issue for her, but ropes and hoops in a confined space were far different than a wicker-basket in the sky.
“Are you afraid?” The question was a tease, but one look into those brilliantly colored blue eyes showed her his concern. She knew her Phillip would think of something else for them to do if she said yes.
“I can assure you, Miss,” the man now stationed within the basket declared, “this is one of the safest modes to travel.”
She gave the man a small smile, surprised he hadn’t turned them away like so many others had for being together and appreciating his honesty. He tipped his hat to her and offered out his hand to help her inside. With another look to Phillip, she took it, picking up the end of her dress slightly with the other as she stepped forward with Phillip hot on her heels.
The man gave them a few instructions while he moved to secure the little gate for the basket. Enjoy themselves and being careful with too quick movements as they went. There were more but she could barely focus on his words as they finally began to move.
RE: Fill: The Greatest Showman. Anne/Phillip (2/2)
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From:no subject
Date: 2018-04-16 04:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-04-16 04:27 pm (UTC)i'm looking at you bat!family
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Date: 2018-04-16 05:26 pm (UTC)Fill, "The Great Escape"
Date: 2018-04-16 10:24 pm (UTC)You don't go forgetting something like that.
You also don't go forgetting their faces.
Not when they're plastered on newspapers and news reports and tabloids and the graffiti artists are slinging likenesses up on walls and sides of train cars and they're just. Eve. Ry. Where.
So when you spot one on the El, it's hard to be cool.
"You're Captain America!"
He blinks and smiles. Has a boyishly handsome grin. Exactly like he does in the newspapers. He's nice, too, he shakes your hand and lets you take a selfie and is okay with you sharing it with all your friends and hey, could he sign your newspaper? Because it does have his photo but oh, he doesn't have a pen and dam - er, darn the luck, you don't either and you're the only two on this car so there's no one else to ask. You think to yourself Tony Stark probably carries extra pens around for signing autographs or legal summonses but this is Captain America and well, at least you have the selfie to remember this by.
"There isn't any danger anywhere right now, is there?"
Cap shakes his head but his eyes have a tinge of something in them and you remember he was in the military - some sort of special forces - back in the day and probably he sees danger the way your Uncle Morty does - it's there, it's all the time, lurking, waiting, and you'd best be ready to attack. You wonder how Mort is gonna feel when you show him the picture of you and Cap. Probably he'll bitch about it.
"I wanted to say thanks for everything you did." Protecting the city, protecting the people - well, yeah, there were some casualties. You have a co-worker who's aunt didn't come home. You'd heard some grumbling that, couldn't the fight have taken place in the slums rather than downtown Manhattan? For that, couldn't have taken place in someplace like Indiana, where there're more cows and corn than actual people?
Cap's okay with the thanks, says he was just doing his job. Kinda nice to hear with other folks trying to pawn off their jobs on other people or blame others for their issues with doing their jobs but you kind of think you need to take a look at yourself and doing your job...maybe tomorrow, Friday at the latest.
And then the window to the El pops open and a red-headed woman in black slides through like an eel in leather. "Busy?" she asks Cap, barely glancing at you.
"Not really," he says, getting to his feet. "What's up?"
"Tell you on the way," she says and gestures at the window. Cap leaps through and she pauses long enough to wink at you before she dives after him.
And you leap up and try to take pictures of them both but by the time you're on your feet and at the window, they're long gone.
Escaped this normal world just like that.
Uncle Morty would be proud.
RE: Fill, "The Great Escape"
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From:no subject
Date: 2018-04-16 06:56 pm (UTC)I am thinking Ryanair type no-frills airline but you do you
Fill -- Flying Coach
Date: 2018-04-17 09:14 pm (UTC)Ordinarily, he’d put on a suit and fly direct, but he just had a double root canal, and per Pepper, JARVIS has the suits on lock-down for 48 hours because of the drugs still in his system. Next time? He’ll fly Dr. Burns to New York instead of going out to LA himself. Even if he has to build a dental office in the Tower, it will be worth avoiding this.
With his phone in airplane mode, he can’t even kvetch to JARVIS about what a pain-in-the-ass this is. Seriously. He owns this airline (by way of a subsidiary of a holding company of a merger), and he couldn’t even get into First Class?! He suspects Pepper and his AI have been conspiring to teach him humility again, like that ever works.
This is pathetic. He has no leg room, he’s crammed in next to a kid who smells like he’s bathed in cheap aftershave instead of bathing, and when the dolt in the seat ahead of him reclines, it’s even worse.
It might be tolerable if he could at least get drunk, but that’s going to take some doing. They confiscated the bottle of Scotch from his carry-on. Sorry, only three ounce bottles or less, they said, absconding with a perfectly innocuous bottle of Glenfiddich. (They were TSA employees, not AirLiberty, so he can’t even threaten to fire them.) Like philanthropy, Tony has nothing against security precautions, either--again, it’s the inconvenience.
“What do you mean, you can’t take plastic for a drink order? What kind of Mickey Mouse airline is this?!”
After rummaging through his wallet, past phone numbers, business cards, a hardcopy picture of Pepper and a condom, he finds an emergency hundred tucked under a flap. Thank God.
“I’m not sure I can change this, sir,” says the flight attendant, staring at the Benjamin Tony is holding out. “Our drinks are only five dollars each.” He holds up a little plastic bottle filled with warm amber liquid, and Tony swallows involuntarily, Pavlovian response at its finest.
“Give me ten. Hell, give me twenty, I don’t care, as long as it’s Scotch. Please.” The last comes out through clenched teeth.
In the end, he winds up with twelve miniature bottles of Scotch (various brands), a cup of ice, four bags of peanuts, and two twenty-dollar bills to tuck back under the flap in his wallet.
“You’re not going to drink all that?” His seatmate stares at him in astonishment.
“Watch me.”
Tony spends the next couple hours of the flight knocking back Scotch, snacking on peanuts, and making mental notes about how he needs to improve AirLiberty; it’s definitely not up to par as a scion of Stark Industries.
He’s busy planning to completely gut every single plane and at least double the leg room, when a woman coming down the aisle sees him and stops in her tracks.
“Oh my God! You’re Tony Stark!” she exclaims, loudly enough that he hears a ripple of excitement from the surrounding seats.
He imagines being swarmed by his fellow passengers, unbalancing the plane and sending them plummeting to a fiery death in a cornfield somewhere in middle America.
“Are you crazy?” he says with equal volume. “You think a guy like Tony Stark flies commercial? The man’s got a whole fleet of private planes, you think he’s going to be mixing it up in coach?”
“You look just like him,” she says, less certainly.
“It’s the goatee. If I shave it, so I just have the moustache, I look like Al Pacino. If I shave it all off, I look like that coked-out actor from the 90’s.” He keeps his voice disparaging, and it works.
She shakes her head, says, “My bad,” and continues down the aisle.
That was close. Tony drains another tiny bottle, pondering the universal question of travellers everywhere:
Are we there yet?!
…
Re: Fill -- Flying Coach
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Date: 2018-04-16 06:56 pm (UTC)no subject
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