Multi-fandom Ficathon
Mar. 5th, 2013 08:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lynzie914
(Created because, well just wishing someone else would do one, didn’t seem to be working. Also ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
upupa_epops convinced me this wasn’t a terrible idea.)
upupa_epops convinced me this wasn’t a terrible idea.)This is free-for-all kind of ficathon, which means everything goes. Any show, any movie, and book, mythology, original, crossovers, new fandoms, dead fandoms, anything.
RULES:
One. As per usual, one prompt per comment. It just makes things easier for everyone. Prompts can be anything (lyrics, a word, a picture, anything) but they should look something like this: fandom, pairing/character, prompt. Or something very close.
Example: TVD, Caroline,in the mirror you’ll find faith, plastic flowers never fade
Two. You don’t have to write anything to prompt, and the same goes the other way. You don’t have to prompt to write. But, of course, I encourage both.
Three. Please feel free to prompt as much as you want. Don’t worry about how much or how little, you’ll find I encourage spamming.
Four. When you fill a prompt, please leave a link to it here. Your header should include a title, the fandom, the rating, the characters/ships, and warnings if there are any.
Five. Leave feedback. Everybody loves comments on their work, they just do. And if someone fills your prompt, really it’s just polite.
Six. Speaking of….Be nice everyone. Just because you don’t like a prompt, doesn’t mean someone else doesn’t have the right to put it out there. Act like the awesome people I know you are. Also, please warn for anything that can be considering triggering. I’m here and around, but I really don’t want to have to be on people for things like this, and I’m hoping that it never reody quired for me to delete anything. But I will.
Seven. There will be spoilers in here for many different fandoms, it’s just inevitable. You’ve been warned.
Eight. GO FORTH AND PROMPT AND FILL PROMPTS AND PIMP THIS THING OUT. Okay, that’s not legit rule. But go forth and do so anyways. Anyone and everyone is welcome, to prompt, fill, and pimp this thing out. Seriously though, please pimp this out. More people is always better.
(Banner made by the lovely
fluffyfrolicker.)![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2013-03-06 01:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-03-06 09:50 am (UTC)Also if anyone wants to use them, here's two banners
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Date: 2013-03-06 01:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-03-06 08:57 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2013-03-06 01:27 am (UTC)She paints her fingers with a close precision
He starts to notice empty bottles of gin
And takes a moment to assess the sins she’s paid for
A lonely speaker in a conversation
Her words were swimming through his ears again
There's nothing wrong with just a taste of what you've paid for
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Date: 2013-03-06 01:28 am (UTC)Fall on my knees, fall on my pride
I'm tripping over all the times I've lied
I'm asking please but I can see in your eyes
You don't need tears for alibis
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Date: 2013-03-06 01:29 am (UTC)You left your blood stain on the floor
You set your sights on him
You left a hand print on the door,
Like all the boys before, like all the boys before
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Date: 2013-03-06 01:29 am (UTC)Well people are tricky,
You can't afford to show,
anything risky, anything they don't know.
The moment you try, well kiss it goodbye
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Date: 2013-03-06 01:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-03-08 10:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-03-06 01:31 am (UTC)and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
much
and nobody finds the
one
but keep
looking
crawling in and out
of beds.
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Date: 2013-03-06 01:32 am (UTC)I do give value.
Like preachers, I sell vision,
like perfume ads, desire
or its facsimile. Like jokes
or war, it's all in the timing.
I sell men back their worse suspicions:
that everything's for sale
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Date: 2013-03-06 01:32 am (UTC)Tonight there must be people who are getting what they want.
I let my oars fall into the water.
Good for them. Good for them, getting what they want.
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Date: 2013-03-06 01:33 am (UTC)I wanna be a bottle blonde
I don’t know why but I feel conned
I wanna be an idle teen
I wish I hadn’t been so clean
I wanna stay inside all day
I want the world to go away
I want blood, guts and chocolate cake
I wanna be a real fake
Yeah I wish I’d been a, wish I’d been a teen, teen idle
Wish I’d been a prom queen fighting for the title
Instead of being sixteen and burning up a bible
Feeling super, super (super!) suicidal
The wasted years, the wasted youth
The pretty lies, the ugly truth
And the day has come where I have died
Only to find I’ve come alive
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Date: 2013-03-06 08:56 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2013-03-06 01:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-03-06 01:35 am (UTC)Money is the anthem of success
So put on mascara, and your party dress
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Date: 2013-03-06 01:35 am (UTC)and baby, heaven's in your eyes (mature - mentions of compulsion and drug use)
Date: 2013-03-07 01:49 am (UTC)She won't quite let herself run out of excuses that push him to the bottom of her list - her last stop before Thailand will be a at the end seat of the third row of some dusty old bleachers which haven't changed since well before the early nineties - but she knows she won't not go, just as surely as she knows he won't turn her away.
His apartment tells a flavorless tale of impersonal success, with western-facing windows reaching up to a high ceiling and just enough furniture of a dark mahogany set.
God, this could have been my life, she thinks, and only manages to avoid a sigh of relief by virtue of not needing to breathe.
He hands her a glass of bourbon. He's not hostile, but not kind. "What's going on, Isobel?"
Everything. Also, nothing, ever again.
"John, do you love me?"
"I did," he says.
*
She stays in Thailand exactly as long as expected and avoids getting too restless on the Orient Express. She sees Cairo and Johannesburg, and savors the ability to stay room temperature through every month and climate.
Still, she finds herself back in Nashville, knocking dully on a door that hasn't changed. She's only slightly paler than him; he's only a little more alive than her.
He's learned his way around women since they were kids. She doesn't know what she expected, and she'll never need anything again, but this is something she's almost capable of wanting.
"Do you love me?"
"Of course," he says dully.
That's not their agreement, the frosty accord they reached when he let her into this dark, dustless room.
She should let him remember this time. Make him remember. Just out of spite.
He does another line before prying his eyes away from the coffee table. "Are you done here?"
That shit'll kill you, she almost says. But that's not their agreement either, so she just nods.
"Just a tip from an old friend," she does say as she collects her bra from his floor and her image from his brain. "Lay off the cheap stuff."
"Good idea," he scoffs. "Show yourself out."
*
"John, do you love me?"
He runs a thumb across her temple, over the veins that are always hard and tight just beneath her skin, and then down to her open mouth, taking her in with his eyes and his touch.
"Not like this."
"Pretty ballsy for you." Even for you, she thinks, he's always been as hard as ice. As hard, and as unrelentingly, stickily cold. "I could kill you so easily, you know."
He twists up a shrug and curls out a sneer, and means them both. "I don't give a fuck what you do."
"Good." She nods as she takes it all back. "That's good."
(cont'd)
Re: and baby, heaven's in your eyes (mature - mentions of compulsion and drug use)
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Date: 2013-03-06 01:36 am (UTC)Baby you need to leave,
cause I'm getting drunk on your noble deeds.
It doesn't matter that they don't get done,
when I feel this cold they're like the fucking sun
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Date: 2013-03-06 01:36 am (UTC)I don't want your money, I don't want your crown
see I’ve come to burn your kingdom down
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Date: 2013-03-06 01:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-03-06 01:38 am (UTC)If mama's mockingbird don't sing well,
Then daddy won't buy her no diamond ring
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Date: 2013-03-06 01:39 am (UTC)The instructor said,
Go home and write
a page tonight.
And let that page come out of you—
Then, it will be true.
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Date: 2013-03-06 01:40 am (UTC)but I am still a coward
content to see my garden grow so sweet
and full of someone else's flowers
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Date: 2013-03-06 01:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-03-06 03:19 am (UTC)you tell me to hang on
but innocence is gone
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Date: 2013-03-06 03:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-03-06 03:21 am (UTC)next time I'll be braver
I'll be my own savior
standing on my own two feet
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Date: 2013-03-06 10:30 pm (UTC)of towers and hearts
Had you asked her a year ago, Chloe would have told you (and quite vehemently, too) that the towers were stupid, the whole concept was outdated and chauvinistic, and that surely - surely - in this day and age other, better, ways of matchmaking were invented.
Boy, had she ever been more wrong.
Well, she had, of course. Many times, in fact. It was an occupational hazard printed in big black letters - all caps - in the job description. Need to have thick skin, it proclaimed. Do not take everything to heart,it encouraged. Therein lay the problem. The heart. Chloe's heart was always a problem. A stubborn and willful organ, much like the owner herself, it did as it was wont to do and fell too hard and far too fast for boys who were forever enamored with Lana Lang ( in its defense, most of the boys were - the pickings were scarce these days).
In addition, and to Chloe's unending chagrin, her heart was also feeble and brittle, and the years of watching Clark pine after Lana had chipped it almost into nothing. Not that it mattered, anyhow, for what little had been left of it, had been smashed into pieces a couple of hours ago when Chloe had seen them kissing in the barn.
Moonlit barn. Which had made it worse in way she couldn't quite explain.
Hurriedly, Chloe had stuffed her mouth full of her broken heart, choked on it - each piece like a shard of glass in her throat, sharp and bitter - and run home where she had promptly locked herself in the tower. Her father who had been supportive, if a little doubtful, of her methods of finding the true love, was surprised at this sudden turn of events, but wisely chose not to question it and not look too closely at her watering eyes or, at least, not to comment on them. Chloe suspected that there would be 'the talk' waiting for her in the morning, guessed as much from the way her father's gaze had fleeted worriedly over her, scanning for injuries or newly-healed scabs. Yet he had let her have her dignity intact for now.
And Chloe was thankful. She would cry into his shirt tomorrow and blow her nose into the offered kerchief and cry some more. But crying was exhausting business, and her throat was still raw where the pieces of her broken heart had cut her and she could not bear to croak the tale of her woes to anyone right now.
She'd take this respite, she'd have this night for herself.
And so, as any princess marooned in the tower and guarded by the dragons (well, those were extinct, but she supposed her father's rumbling snores would spook many a brave prince into premature grey hair), Chloe positioned herself strategically at the window and set about staring soulfully at nothing in particularly.
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Date: 2013-03-06 03:24 am (UTC)out there a lonely girl could drown
in here were frozen