Friday Free For All
Nov. 20th, 2009 06:03 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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comment_ficHappy Friday everyone!
You know what friday means! It's free for all day. Any pairing, fandom, any anything.
Kid!Fic, slave!fic, wing!fic, evil!au, kinky, vanilla, handcuffs, cufflinks, chain gangs, gang fight, pillow fight, fight sex, piercings, tattoos....you name it, it goes here!
Please to be remembering the rules. NO SPOILERS IN THE PROMPT for at least a week after airing/publication. If the fic response contains spoilers, please warn and leave at least 3 to 5 empty lines before starting the fic.
No more than five prompts in a row (give others a chance to prompt too), no more than 3 per fandom. You can always come back and prompt more after yours have been answered.
Please remember to be kind to you code monkeys (who work hard at a job that is time consuming) and code your prompts properly (fandom, pairing, prompt).
Examples:
Supernatural, Sam/Dean, last man standing
RPS, Ewan MacGregor/Hugh Jackman, you think I'm going to let you go?
SG1/Sanctuary, Daniel/Will, mating season
As always, if nothing here strikes your fancy, head on over to the delicious archives and find you something yummy to chew on.
Have fun y'all.
You know what friday means! It's free for all day. Any pairing, fandom, any anything.
Kid!Fic, slave!fic, wing!fic, evil!au, kinky, vanilla, handcuffs, cufflinks, chain gangs, gang fight, pillow fight, fight sex, piercings, tattoos....you name it, it goes here!
Please to be remembering the rules. NO SPOILERS IN THE PROMPT for at least a week after airing/publication. If the fic response contains spoilers, please warn and leave at least 3 to 5 empty lines before starting the fic.
No more than five prompts in a row (give others a chance to prompt too), no more than 3 per fandom. You can always come back and prompt more after yours have been answered.
Please remember to be kind to you code monkeys (who work hard at a job that is time consuming) and code your prompts properly (fandom, pairing, prompt).
Examples:
Supernatural, Sam/Dean, last man standing
RPS, Ewan MacGregor/Hugh Jackman, you think I'm going to let you go?
SG1/Sanctuary, Daniel/Will, mating season
As always, if nothing here strikes your fancy, head on over to the delicious archives and find you something yummy to chew on.
Have fun y'all.
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no subject
Date: 2009-11-20 02:04 pm (UTC)as our sad song plays - gennish, PG
Date: 2009-12-13 01:45 am (UTC)No, Sam says, shaking his head, backing up. No.
Dean looks from Satan to his little brother, useless knife clenched in his fist, and doesn't speak, but his eyes tell Sam everything.
Sam nods. Says no again and stands tall at his brother's side.
Dean says yes and Lucifer screams in frustration as Michael's wings unfurl, leaving Sam the last Winchester standing.
RE: as our sad song plays - gennish, PG
From:Re: as our sad song plays - gennish, PG
From:no subject
Date: 2009-11-20 02:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-20 02:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-20 02:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-20 02:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-20 02:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-20 02:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-26 12:55 am (UTC)Charlie grinned and answered, "Depends what you mean by unlikely."
"Not within three standard deviations of the norm," Colby said cockily. He knew that basic statistics wouldn't throw Charlie, but he knew it would definitely surprise him coming from Colby.
And Charlie raised his eyebrows high, to Colby's deep satisfaction. Don had mentioned that Colby had been leafing through math books at work, but Charlie had assumed it was just idle curiosity. He was actually astounded.
But with Colby, Charlie had done his best to hit the ball back, as Don liked to say. Colby would make a smartass comment, and Charlie would snark right back. Colby would think he could make Charlie stutter and blush just by flirting, but Charlie would just respond by casually mentioning something dirty than anything Colby assumed would ever come from his lips. And when Colby gave a little twist of his hips while he was deep inside Charlie, giving just a tiny jerk, testing Charlie to see what he could handle, Charlie would push back on Colby, hard, taking in more than Colby imagined Charlie could take with nothing more than a delighted moan.
So if Colby wanted to talk math... Charlie was definitely going to hit the ball back.
"You know, Colby, there are a lot of ways to define the norm. Why don't we try a practical example to demonstrate?"
"You have something in mind," Colby said, a statement, not a question.
Charlie gave an innocent smile. "Firing shots at a target. Clusters of data, not many outliers."
"You want to go to the shooting range?" Colby asked in surprise.
"Why not? Let's make you feel comfortable on your home turf," Charlie said, doing his best not to give away his gleeful anticipation at getting to show Colby how much his shot has improved since taking lessons from Ian.
Colby smiled and nodded his agreement, and said, eyes twinkling, "This night is taking some very improbable turns.... I like that."
Charlie smiled back with promise in his dark eyes, "Good. After the shooting range, we can talk a little more about deviant behavior."
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2009-11-20 02:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-20 02:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-20 02:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-20 02:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-20 02:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-20 02:17 pm (UTC)Lost Children in the Dark
Date: 2010-05-01 05:48 pm (UTC)Friday night. Reid’s apartment.
Together, in the dark, they cannot see, but they can feel. Palms against palms, hands against skin, tongues, mouths, hands... Rough callused hands, pale and tender hands, joined together, reaching out like lost children in the dark.
That’s truly what they are, lost children in the dark. Reaching at something they can’t fully grasp. They express only when they don’t have to come face-to-face with reality.
Lights off.
Their bodies intertwine in darkness. It is what they want, even when the lights are turned on. But that part is too big to say aloud. In darkness, they can obtain the obscurity that they need.
And later, when the lights go back on, Morgan will leave. Leaving behind only the scent he was once there and the faint sensation on Reid’s skin of the touches in the dark.
no subject
Date: 2009-11-20 02:17 pm (UTC)Taste of Your [Inked] Skin, Reid/Aaron, R/NC17
Date: 2009-11-26 11:40 am (UTC)The rest is here (http://j2-babygirl86.livejournal.com/110841.html)
no subject
Date: 2009-11-20 02:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-20 07:02 pm (UTC)The first couple weeks the way Jake would look at him made Mickey incredibly uneasy. Jake would try to hide it or quickly turn his attention elsewhere, equally uneasy over the fact he had been caught. It wasn't that Mickey had any qualms about gays and liking those of the same gender, his most watched porn was a three-some of all girls. It just that he himself wasn't and the idea of another guy having those thoughts just well almost made him wish he had returned with Rose (and the Doctor) after all.
"We should celebrate." Jake announces as he approaches Mickey sitting on Pete's overstuffed couch flipping through a magazine.
"I'm always up for that! But what exactly are we celebrating?"
"Today marks the two months since you came here. And though your no Rickey I got to admit your not too bad."
"Still not gay," Mickey fires back with a smile as he stands up, "ok so what do you want to do?"
"I don't know I suppose we could go to Galaxy Floors."
"Wait isn't that a gay dance club?"
"Yeah technically, but I figured since you have never been you might want to try it."
"How many times do I have to tell you I'm not gay!?" This time the playful teasing and smile are absent.
"It was just an idea, just forget it!" As Jake stomps out of the room soon followed by the front door slamming, Mickey sits back down. The logical and mature part of him knew he had been a bit too harsh. Just because he went to a gay dance club won't make him gay, only homophobic and ignorant people thought like that. And it wasn't like Jake even had to invite him to anything period. Still the immature part of him won out as he contained to sit staring at the wall.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2009-11-20 02:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-20 02:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-20 02:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-20 02:29 pm (UTC)FILL: Teen wolf, Derek/Stiles
Date: 2017-02-06 05:16 pm (UTC)The touch of their lips is loving and soft, bodies blossoming with arousal as they strip themselves nude. While the kiss burns hotter, passionate growls rumbling from his chest and teeth nip lightly, Derek is beautifully flushed—rosy pink cheeks warm and eyes brightly sparkling like dazzling stars, his heart fluttering wildly in his chest as they make love in front of a roaring fireplace, wood crackling as flames glow golden.
(END)
no subject
Date: 2009-11-20 02:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-21 02:02 am (UTC)He isn't sure where he is or how he got here exactly. He remembers the questions, the ropes.
They'd bound his hands and put a loop of rope around his throat and dragged him out of the car.
He had been on his way from San Francisco to LA, his government escort had promised him they'd be safe. This far west, there had been no sign of the 8th Battalion or anything worse than mild gang activity in months.
It had been clear from the first explosion that they're motive was not to take prisoners, and he thinks maybe they didn't expect him there. The car had rolled and the agent inside with him had died.
When they'd found him, they had acted surprised and in those first moments he'd thought he would die.
Then came the ropes. They used the one around his neck to drag him away, shove him into the back of one of their trucks, sure to keep him in the light.
Even know they are careful of that. The room is draped in shadows, but not him. He hangs in the only ray of direct light in the cell.
Clearly they know what he is.
Steve holds the water to his lips again and Christian swallows greedily. He's parched, dry through to his toes. "You know he's one of those freaks." Another voice comes from the shadows and a face follows it.
He's tall and dark, his face hidden behind facial hair and dirt. As he comes closer, Christian can see he has a scar that whites out his left eye. "Jeffrey." Steven turns to him, but the new man just tugs on the rope still around Christian's neck.
"I'm just saying, don't get too attached, Steven. He won't live long enough to be of use to you."
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2009-11-20 02:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-20 02:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-20 11:22 pm (UTC)And no, that's not a euphemism.
Men know what Dakin is doing. They know his charm and his smile only mean so much. They know it's his way of being on top, so to speak, like the way clever men like to interrupt with a witty comment to show their intelligence, or the way a tall man always points out that something on the top shelf would help. Dakin was a leader among men because he could attract anyone.
And men know this. They know it's a contest, and they know if you have an advantage, you'll use it just to use it. Women see the smile and charm and the sweet words, they feel the tease of his fingers on their shoulder or knee, that push and pull of deciding whether it is innocent affection or bold enticement-- and women think that these things are a promise. They think that Dakin is doing these things for them.
Men know that Dakin is doing these things to them. When Dakin makes someone want to hug and caress him, it's Dakin's way of asserting his dominance. And if they're really, really lucky, they might get a taste of a little bit more.
But men know not to expect more than that.
And somewhere in the back of Dakin's mind, he remembers learning that the world would be a different place if men stopped wanting other men to kneel before them. But then, those men made it happen with cannons or swords. And sometimes with gold or lies.
All Dakin used was his beauty.
But still... it didn't seem entirely different, for some reason.
There was an essay in that, somewhere.
AN: So... I don't like how I just portrayed women here, but I'm trying to get in the head of Dakin, so... sorry. But I think he imagines women are all about love/commitment/sparkles.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2009-11-20 02:41 pm (UTC)I know that the Son will rise - gennish, PG
Date: 2009-12-20 01:30 am (UTC)He watches the stars now, whenever he rests, from valleys and mountain tops, at the sea shore and the middle of a desert night.
He can name them all, using their true Creator-given title. He can close his eyes and remember their births, when God wove them from Himself and spread them amongst the cosmos.
Father, he calls into the night, straining with everything he has to hear an answer. Father!
Sometimes he stays out all night, and he lets the dawn warm him. Sometimes he leaves and goes to the Winchesters, stands guard to let them sleep. Sometimes, he quiets their sleep and wishes that someone would quiet his mind.
Re: I know that the Son will rise - gennish, PG
From:Re: I know that the Son will rise - gennish, PG
From:no subject
Date: 2009-11-20 02:42 pm (UTC)Tweaking the Tail of the Devil - FRT (angst, slash)
Date: 2009-11-20 03:33 pm (UTC)--
“Please,” Sam ground out, voice so low and full of angsty, manly rumble and gravel it would have been funny but for the pain and desperation in the green eyes. “If I fall - if I can’t - You have to do it. Castiel won’t and Dean can’t. Lucifer wants me, but he *needs* me to complete the apocalypse. If I’m dead, there’s nothing for Michael to fight.”
Thereby saving his brother from both having to kill him and burning out by angel-fill. Brilliant strategy if it hadn’t meant Sammy Winchester was planning to willingly fall on the grenade and wanted Gabriel to pull the pin.
Shoulders scrunched and face tight, Sam shrugged in tentative apology. “I know you want it to be over, but…”
He did. He *so* did. He was just so tired of being in the middle, waiting. Listening to the whining, the bitching, the sullen or impassionate rants on Destiny and Glorious Fate. It was worse than daytime tv.
He wanted to go home.
Sam’s puppy dog eyes tore into him, tears of abject misery running down his cheeks at the price he was demanding Gabriel take from him. The price he was willing to pay to save the world. The same world Gabriel had resented and tormented ever since he had run away from the family squabble in Heaven millennia ago.
*I know you want it to be over…*
And he *did*…but…
One hand reached up, fingers brushing away the salt unbidden, shame and despair reaching him for the first time in decades. Centuries. “Not this way.”
He did his best to ignore the way Sam leaned into his touch. Only the briefest of moments that screamed how tired he was; how starved for touch. Connection. Gabriel knew it only too well.
Almost unknowingly, Sam pressed against his palm before reluctantly pulling away. Gabriel felt cold. “It’s the only way.”
“Maybe.” But Gabriel felt the familiar, stifling rebellion well up that being caught by Destiny and Glorious Fate brought out in him. Dean might be right - it just might be time for Gabriel to stand up to his Family. Smack a brother or two down a peg. Some needed a whole ladder.
Gripping the back of Sam’s head, feeling the tendons tight with contention relax under his direction, the archangel was suddenly determined to tell them all to go screw themselves. “Maybe not.”
Sam Winchester - Dean Winchester - they had both sacrificed enough.
Looking up into green eyes aching with confusion, Gabriel smiled, throwing an arm around Sam‘s shoulder and uttered the two words sure to send the human off into a fit of panic. “Trust me.”
After all, never let it be said that the Trickster willingly lay down just because they were stuck between two terrifyingly all-powerful armies with no way out. Pulling on the wings of angels, tweaking the tail of the Devil…if he played it right, this could even be fun.
Re: Tweaking the Tail of the Devil - FRT (angst, slash)
From:Re: Tweaking the Tail of the Devil - FRT (angst, slash)
From:Re: Tweaking the Tail of the Devil - FRT (angst, slash)
From:Re: Tweaking the Tail of the Devil - FRT (angst, slash)
From:Re: Tweaking the Tail of the Devil - FRT (angst, slash)
From:Re: Tweaking the Tail of the Devil - FRT (angst, slash)
From:Re: Tweaking the Tail of the Devil - FRT (angst, slash)
From:Resolution - FRT (slash, language)
From:Re: Resolution - FRT (slash, language)
From:Re: Resolution - FRT (slash, language)
From:no subject
Date: 2009-11-20 02:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-07 01:17 pm (UTC)Seasons
Castiel’s shoulders slump. ‘I cannot help it, Dean. I...”
“Really?” Dean turns to look at the wall – at anything but Cas right now. “I mean, really?”
“Once an angel reaches a certain age...” he scratches the back of his neck, clears his throat. “I mean, we don’t have a choice.”
“And you... me... I...”
“Sometimes the not having a choice part goes wrong, but... the thought is still there,” he concludes simply.
Dean turns back to him, catches his eye. “So this is angel mating season, and I’m right in the middle of it?”
Castiel nods, at a loss. “Well, it’s a bit more complicated than that, but otherwise, yes.”
“I’ve got to kick some serious Cupid ass for this one.” Dean mutters. Castiel’s a lot closer to him now than he remembers him being.
“Dean?”
“What?” And Castiel might swear that Dean sounds... nervous.
Castiel touches their lips together. “Just stop talking.”
(no subject)
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