Bonus Round 1
Sep. 20th, 2013 06:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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srs2013Bonus Round 0 is now closed, and Bonus Round 1 is now open! Let's get creating, shall we?
This round, the theme is book-based AUs.
If you have an idea for something you'd like to see, please leave a book title, the characters involved, and any other details as a PROMPT below. Then read through everyone else's prompts, and leave a FILL for any which catch your eye. Fills can be in any media, and they need not be long, but please put a little effort in--if anyone starts spamming this post for points, we'll be able to tell.
You should place PROMPT/FILL, your current team affiliation and a brief summary in the comment title. NSFW prompts and fills should mention this in the summary or at the top of the post.
You will be awarded five points per prompt for the first five prompts you leave. The first three fills posted for each prompt will receive 15 points, the next three 10 points, and the next three 5 points. Prompts with ten or more fills will no longer receive fill points.
Bonus rounds are still rarepair only, but you can post prompts or fills for any rare ship this round, including gen/platonic ones (which should be indicated with an & as above). However, you may not fill your own prompt. We also encourage people not to fill prompts from their teammates, although the points will not be deducted if you do.
Bonus round fills can include links provided they are publicly viewable. Works can also be cross-posted to other websites, as there is no anonymity requirement in bonus rounds. However, works posted directly to comments will be limited to 16,000 characters by the Dreamwidth comment limit. Longer works should therefore be divided between multiple comments.
Remember, Team Chuck can participate in bonus rounds, and if you change teams, points earned will transfer with you until the end of the team shuffle period.
This round will close on October 6.
This round, the theme is book-based AUs.
If you have an idea for something you'd like to see, please leave a book title, the characters involved, and any other details as a PROMPT below. Then read through everyone else's prompts, and leave a FILL for any which catch your eye. Fills can be in any media, and they need not be long, but please put a little effort in--if anyone starts spamming this post for points, we'll be able to tell.
You should place PROMPT/FILL, your current team affiliation and a brief summary in the comment title. NSFW prompts and fills should mention this in the summary or at the top of the post.
You will be awarded five points per prompt for the first five prompts you leave. The first three fills posted for each prompt will receive 15 points, the next three 10 points, and the next three 5 points. Prompts with ten or more fills will no longer receive fill points.
Bonus rounds are still rarepair only, but you can post prompts or fills for any rare ship this round, including gen/platonic ones (which should be indicated with an & as above). However, you may not fill your own prompt. We also encourage people not to fill prompts from their teammates, although the points will not be deducted if you do.
Bonus round fills can include links provided they are publicly viewable. Works can also be cross-posted to other websites, as there is no anonymity requirement in bonus rounds. However, works posted directly to comments will be limited to 16,000 characters by the Dreamwidth comment limit. Longer works should therefore be divided between multiple comments.
Remember, Team Chuck can participate in bonus rounds, and if you change teams, points earned will transfer with you until the end of the team shuffle period.
This round will close on October 6.
Prompt, (Team Crowley/Sam) Tuck Everlasting AU
Date: 2013-09-24 02:45 am (UTC)FILL, Team Anna/Jo Annaby Harry Potter AU
Date: 2013-09-24 03:47 am (UTC)http://vampirenerd13.deviantart.com/art/Betrayal-402457553?ga_submit_new=10%253A1379994217
Fill, Team Anna/Jo, Kama Sutra - all the ladies
Date: 2013-09-24 06:44 am (UTC)It all started with a cursed copy of the Kama Sutra
http://thedahlingdarling.tumblr.com/post/62136499182/it-all-started-with-a-cursed-copy-of-the-kama
Fill, (team Crowley/Sam), Hunger Games AU
Date: 2013-09-24 07:51 am (UTC)Benny scores well during training, beating out several careers for favored to win. His district’s only living Hunger Games victor is a grizzled old man named Bobby. Bobby assures him he stands a good chance. Benny can only stare at his district’s other tribute, a 12 year old named Clare. She reminds him of his sister. They both know she won’t make it. They don’t talk about it.
The first day of the Hunger Games dawns cold, and as the tributes are raised on platforms into the arena, they see why. There is nothing but blinding white snow for miles. The Cornucopia stands nearby like forbidden fruit, promising great riches at a great cost. As soon as the gong releases them, Benny sprints in the opposite direction. He knows the Cornucopia will be a bloodbath, and he wants no part of that yet.
His first goal is to find shelter. He knew in the northern districts they had a way of making shelter out of packed snow, but Benny doesn’t know the technique and he’s better not many of the other tributes do either. With temperatures already well below freezing in full sun, shelter will be the difference between life and death before the day is done. The snow slows him down but he pushes out, grateful that no one seems to be following him.
He finds a cave that will be suitable for shelter just before nightfall. The anthem that precedes the death recap plays on the air, muffled by snow. Benny could go out and see which tributes didn’t survive the day, but he can’t bear it. He might see Clare’s face among them, and then he would have to live with the knowledge that by abandoning her from the get-go effectively signed her death warrant.
Benny stacks the cave’s entrance with lose rocks. It won’t keep anyone out, but it will alert him to anyone trying to get in. He sleeps uneasily, curled in a ball in the smallest part of the cave, trying to conserve as much of his body heat as possible. He’s hungry, but he has the distinct impression that he would just throw up anything he put in his stomach right now anyway. Nothing like anger, guilt, and fear to kill an appetite. Or a bunch of innocent kids, apparently.
Benny was awoken mere hours later by the sound of sliding rocks. Instantly he’s on the alert, and painfully aware that he has no weapon to speak of. He holds his fists in front of himself uselessly anyway. The boy who clears the lip of the cave is not what Benny was expecting. He’s lithe, which Benny can see even with the lined coat the boy is wearing, but with a sharpness to him that suggests he could kill if he needed. Benny remembers seeing him a few times in passing during training, but careers and tributes from the poorer districts did not tend to mingle. The two of them stare at each other in the reflected moonlight without saying a word or moving a muscle for several minutes.
“Where’d you get the coat?” Benny asks.
The guy looks at Benny like he’s stupid. “The Cornucopia.”
“Did you kill anyone to get it?”
He hesitates, like he’s contemplating lying. “Didn’t have to. Someone else did, and I just pulled it from the kid’s dead fingers.”
“Pretty lucky.”
“I’m a lucky guy.”
“I’m Benny.”
“Dean. You’re the kid from the farm district, right? Lots of people think you stand a good chance at winning.”
Benny shrugs.
“They’re wrong, though.”
“That so?”
“You’re not a killer. I’ve known killers my whole life and you aren’t one of them.”
“Are you one of them?”
“Maybe. I don’t want to kill you, though.”
“I don’t want to kill you either.”
“Truce, then? I share my coat with you and you share this cave with me?”
“Truce. Me casa es su casa.”
“Good.”
Benny sets the rocks back up at the entrance before heading back to his sleeping spot. Dean is already there, curled up with the coat draped over his shoulders like a short blanket. Benny lies down so they are back to back, pressed close for warmth, and the coat is just big enough to cover the both of them. A parachute marking a present from a sponsor makes its presence known right outside the cave. Inside is a flashlight. The message from Bobby seems clear, make a friend, get a gift. Benny silently thanks him.
The deaths start stacking up quickly after the second day. The temperature drops further and Benny figures that anyone who hasn’t found shelter has died of exposure by now. Dean and Benny are living off melted snow. Dean never complains about being hungry once, and for that, Benny is grateful, but the fact remains that every day they go without food is another day they grow weaker. They venture out on the fourth day, determined to find food. Instead they end up cornering a dark haired boy from district one.
“I have food,” he says when they ambush him and relieve him of his weapon, a long silver knife. “I have food, but you won’t find it without me. You want it; you have to team up with me.”
Dean and Benny look at each other. They’ve gotten very good at communicating without words over the past few days. “Alright, but there’s two of us and one of you, and we’re bigger. Any funny business and we’ll eat you instead, capisce?” Dean asks him.
“Yeah, I capisce,” he says, rolling his eyes. “My name’s Castiel.”
“I’m Dean, this is Benny,” Dean replies gruffly, “the food now, if you don’t mind. We’re a bit peckish.”
Castiel leads them to an outcrop in the snow. He has a bag of dried meat, which Dean tears into the second he has it in his hands, and several boxes of salt crackers. Benny eats an entire sleeve of the crackers in the time it takes them to walk back to their cave, saving the rest for later. He couldn’t imagine the games would go on for too much longer, with the elements getting harder to survive and supplies running lower every day, but he wanted to be ready to outlast anything.
Dean and Benny sit shoulder to shoulder out of habit, Dean’s coat draped across both of them. Castiel raises an eyebrow at that but doesn’t say anything. Dean pulls one more piece of jerky out of the bag and wraps up the rest for later. He takes a bite and hands it to Benny, who takes a bite as well and hands it back. They continue this until the piece is gone, Castiel watching the entire exchange with a strange light in his eyes.
“Have you guys gotten anything from your sponsors?” Castiel asks.
Benny retrieves the small flashlight from a pocket and holds it up. “Just this.”
Castiel nods. “I got the food on the first day but nothing since. I keep trying to figure out what they want but so far no luck.”
The hairs on the back of Benny’s neck stand on end at the reminder that they are being constantly watched. He’d almost forgotten.
“Anyway,” Castiel continues, “I bet you two will start getting loads of gifts once your sponsors see how well you guys work together.”
Benny realizes the meaning behind his words. Sponsors only care about a good show, and the only thing that made a better show than murder was romance. Benny hadn’t thought of Dean that way before, but as they were now, touching at every point from shoulder to toe, sharing food like lovers, it made sense. Playing this up for the cameras might be their only shot at survival.
That night, instead of lying back to back, Benny turns over so he can wrap an arm around Dean and pull him against his chest. Dean simply presses himself back more firmly against Benny as if in unspoken acceptance of this new arrangement. In the morning there are two parachutes waiting for them, one with a thick blanket large enough for two, and the other with a bowl of hot soup. Apparently, their sponsors approve.
Re: Fill, Team Anna/Jo, Benny X Dean Thirteen Chances AU
Date: 2013-09-24 09:37 am (UTC)PROMPT, Team Anna/Ruby, Orange is the New Black
Date: 2013-09-24 12:58 pm (UTC)It could be gen, reflecting on Anna's life in prison, or past!fic describing her relationship with Ruby ten years ago.
Fill, Team Balthazar/Castiel, Hunger Games AU [Sort of NSFW]
Date: 2013-09-24 12:59 pm (UTC)The next to go would have been Sam, his younger brother had he not volunteered as tribute. Dean was glad that he had though, he was sure that Sam wouldn’t even have been able to survive the first day. As night falls now, Dean nimbly climbs up the branches of a pine tree sitting astride the thick branch now, he reaches down and grabs onto the other boy’s hand, helping him up.
“Thanks,” the boy says, his name is Benny. He’s the tribute from one of the poorer districts, 11 or 12 if Dean remembers correctly. He and Dean had made a truce of sorts; they weren’t going to kill each other. For now they would survive together, they would protect each other. They didn’t know why, maybe it was because they knew how precious life was and how it would feel like to loose someone important to you.
“Get the granola bar will you?” Dean tells him one hand still holding on to Benny’s arm to stabilize him, the other steadying himself on the branch as he lets Benny lean in towards him to reach for the backpack. He tries hard not to think of what another tribute, a dark haired boy named Castiel had told him awhile back when they had been in partnership briefly. He isn’t going to use Benny like that.
Benny reaches into the side pocket of the backpack and fishes out the unopened granola bar. “That’s the last one,” he tells Dean leaning back against the tree trunk now as Dean’s grip slips from his arm.
“We’ll figure something out tomorrow…” Dean murmured, his eyes trained on the little granola bar as his stomach rumbled.
Benny stifled his laughter, “Hungry aren’t we?”
The rustling of the packaging as it opens is the only thing that can be heard between the two of them. Benny is salivating at the thought of a meal, no matter how small. He rips the packet open and takes a bite of the granola bar before passing it to Dean.
He doesn’t mind that Dean eats more than a small bite; he knows the other boy is hungrier than he lets on. Benny finishes the last bit of the granola bar and their meal for the day is done. He leans forward stuffing the wrapper back into the backpack.
The two had been sparingly eating what had been kept in the backpack. Neither of them had taken it from the Cornucopia himself. As soon as the race started they’d run off, away from the Cornucopia. Dean spending the first day hungry and trying to find a safe place to hide on the second, but as soon as he was on the run, he was attacked by two boys. That’s how he’d met Benny who had saved him and killed one of the boys, clobbering him to death with a wooden bat that he had taken to for defense. That was the story of how they got the backpack and the beginning of their sort of truce.
“Let me get the water,” Dean says attempting to move the backpack to the front without any support.
Benny reaches to grab ahold his arm now, “I got you,” he says noticing the way Dean flinches at his touch. The boy has been doing a lot of that recently ever since they parted ways with Castiel, a tribute from district 9. He doesn’t understand why.
Dean ignores the way Benny’s fingers are warm against his skin, his grip is firm and strong. Quickly he takes out the water bottle and hands it to Benny, their fingers brushing at the exchange. Once they have taken their one sip of water, Dean slips the bottle back into the pack.
“Goodnight,” he says and then nimbly climbs from one branch to the next, one that isn’t too far from Benny and settles down for the night.
Benny smirks, “Night,” he mutters watching as the boy moved, silent and agile onto the next branch. Dean didn’t kill unless it was necessary. In the five days that they had spent so far, they had shared their pasts and Benny knew more than ever that he could trust Dean.
Dean leaned back against the thick trunk of the tree, staring out into the darkness. In his mind he was remembering all that Castiel had said to him. Sponsors were the ones that they –as tributes – counted on. Some soup, water or an army knife could be what made the difference between life and death. Those things could be obtained throughout the game through the sponsors. And the only way to get these prized objects was to get sponsors to like you or the show that you were putting on.
“You’ve got something going for you,” Castiel said, “You and Benny should play it up a little, it’ll be to your benefit.”
“Play it up? You want me to pretend to be interested in Benny?” Dean asked.
Castiel gave him a ‘you got that right’ look, “If it helps you to survive wouldn’t you do it?”
Play it up? Dean thought incredulous. He wasn’t going to pretend to be interested in another male. That wasn’t to say that Benny wasn’t attractive. He was. So much so that the other day Benny had gotten a pack of biscuits from one of the female tributes who had wished him best of luck. Benny had shared that packet of biscuits with him after that.
He looked to where Benny was on the branch next to him, already fast asleep. He didn’t know how to go about getting the sponsors to like them. Dean had turned the notion of making a good show over in his mind now a few times and he’d come to the same conclusion each time. A good show always equaled to romance, seduction and sexual tension.
But that applied to getting a girl.
This was different.
But they needed the food, that or they had to kill and Dean wasn’t up for that. He sighed, closing his eyes now as he drifted off, a plan already forming in his mind. He just hoped that the sponsors would enjoy the show enough to send them something of value.
“No.”
“Well someone woke up on the wrong side of the branch this morning,” Benny murmured. Why was Dean being so difficult today? “If you don’t want to go and find other tributes with food then what do you want?”
“We go back to the Cornucopia and get whatever weapons are remaining there, then we go after the others,” Dean said. That seemed the logical thing to say. Logical to make Benny angry that is.
“You’re risking your life for a bunch of rubbish,” Benny said. There would be nothing good left by now so why was Dean suggesting going back to the Cornucopia?
“It’s better than fighting with sticks and stones!”
“I ain’t gonna go back there. There’s nothing worth going back for Dean!”
“Alright. Fine. Don’t go back with me. I’ll go on my own,” Dean said and turning on his heel he headed back the way they had come. It was just an act but it hurt so much at the thought of having to leave Benny behind. Dean had grown so used to his company. He didn’t have to wait long before he was ambushed, Benny tackling him to the floor from behind.
“It’s too dangerous, I ain’t gonna let you go back there Dean,” Benny growled as he tackled the boy to the dirt ground.
Dean had to remember to fight back; he clawed and scratched at Benny’s arms around his neck trying to elbow the boy off his back. He got in two good blows and Benny released him. Dean gasped for air, “Why?” he rasped eyes fixed on Benny.
“Because I care for you,” Benny replied and he meant it.
Dean’s eyes widened at the statement, Benny was taking this too seriously. In a flash he had Benny pinned to the floor, straddling him as he grabbed the other boy by his shirt, hand raised in a threat to punch him. Benny didn’t resist, he merely laid there his eyes flashing hurt and betrayal and Dean broke at that look, leaning in to Benny now, lips by his ear.
“…act…” Benny heard Dean’s whisper before the boy pulled back. He caught on quickly enough and caught Dean’s fist as he was about to throw a punch.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Benny challenged him.
Dean was confused, why was he still bringing up that statement? He went along with it anyway, acting, “I don’t care…” he growled pulling his hand away from Benny’s touch.
“Don’t say that.”
Dean felt it before he even realized what had happened. He felt the soft warmth of Benny’s lips on his as the boy’s hand slid to the back of his neck and pulled him in close, thumb lightly stroking against his rising pulse. He didn’t fight back though and he let things take its course as Benny deepened the kiss, tongue begging for entrance and slipping into his mouth.
Dean shuddered as he felt Benny’s tongue slide against his boldly, circling around his tongue and making him moan into the kiss. His hand unclenched around a fistful of Benny’s shirt smoothing out against the boy’s chest as he lowered his body to Benny’s.
This wasn’t acting anymore, at least to Benny it wasn’t. He poured his emotions into the kiss, liking the way Dean complied to him when he had pulled his body closer. Their kiss was anything but skilled. It was just raw need and hunger, almost as though they wanted to devour each other. Teeth and tongue lashed about and Benny growled into the kiss letting his leg possessively curl around Dean, trapping the boy there.
He needed to breathe so badly but for some reason he didn’t want to end the kiss. Dean gently pushed against Benny’s chest, making a sound, telling him to let him up. When he did, Dean didn’t move more than a few millimeters apart, their lips still brushing as he gasped for air. He was shocked and surprised at the emotional overload that he’d felt from Benny. And the body contact, the way their bodies clicked into place like that…Dean thought it felt deliciously good.
He blinked now, averting his gaze, “Don’t do that again…”
Benny gazed up into Dean’s eyes, the boy had beautiful green eyes, he liked that.
“Then don’t go back to the Cornucopia.”
“Okay…I won’t…”
Benny smirked, “Good.”
By noontime there were two parachutes that were waiting for them. One carrying bread, cheese, apples and water while the other held twin hunting daggers. Dean was surprised at the amount of items that the sponsors could give them just over one small encounter. This was enough to tide them over for at least 4 days max.
“They sure enjoyed the performance,” Benny whispered softly coming up behind Dean now.
Dean shuddered at the hot breath that feathered his ear, “We were good actors,” he lied.
Benny chuckled, “Right,” he answered, “Good actors indeed.”
Fill, Team Crowley/Sam, Cloud Atlas AU
Date: 2013-09-24 01:36 pm (UTC)Sam boards the vast cargo ship, headed for South Asia. The smell of the briny sea thick in his nostrils, he inhales deeply and it feels like home. From the cabin, the captain emerges just as Sam happens to glance that direction and their eyes meet. The captain smiles a wide grin that Sam can’t help but reciprocate. The captain joins him on the deck. “You’re Samuel, correct?” The captain extends his hand and Sam shakes it. “Yes.” “Quite right. I’m captain Crowley. Good to have you aboard. My, you are tall,” Crowley observes. “Like a beanstalk.” Sam resists the urge to say “you can be Jack if you’d like,” to the admittedly attractive captain. After that they go their separate ways. When the ship departs they go about their duties, but are sure to go out of their way to spare a passing glance, a friendly greeting or even a daring brush of the hand. And the long hard days don’t seem so bad once Sam finds himself as an honored guest in the captain’s bed for the longer part of the trip.
Sam’s sitting in the dark rowdiness of the speak easy, quietly smiling to himself amongst the comforting roar of the crowd. He lights a cigarette and exhales the smoke, adding to the thick air of the room. The crowds part for just a second or two, but it’s enough for him to get a glance at him. That man, also seated alone across the room, who looks so painfully familiar Sam doesn’t even catch himself staring until the man looks over and meets his gaze. Startled and blushing, Sam extinguishes his cigarette and gets up to leave. The man, Crowley, follows after him, drawn by the astonishing familiarity of the tall, lean brunette. When he steps outside, Sam is waiting for him. They walk in the cold night air, talking like old friends, even though they’ve never met. They both agree that the nostalgic, salty smell of the New York harbor seems to bring back memories that don’t exist.
“Yo, Samantha. You and me are on patrol.” “Yes, captain” Sam says and he steps two to follow the Captain into the steamy Vietnamese jungle. Before they get out of camp, Crowley lights a cigarette. As Sam walks beside him, he inhales the rich, dusty smell of the ashes. It’s an age old smell that warms Sam’s bones and he feels like he could just sink into it and fall through time. “God, I can’t wait to get back to the States where I can get a decent cigarette,” Crowley says, exhaling a lungful of smoke. What Crowley breathes out, Sam breathes in. “Yeah, bet that’s not the only reason you can’t wait to get back.” Sam smirks at his superior officer, but out here, there is no rank. They are just Crowley and Sam. Crowley blushes beneath Sam’s gaze, knowing exactly what he’s talking about. “Are we going to talk about why you really wanted to get me out here all alone?” Sam’s voice is low and deep and oh so inviting. He leans down and catches Crowley’s smoke-laced lips with his own. They pull apart just briefly and Crowley crushes the cigarette into the ground. “Wait… “ he says and pulls Sam back now with both hands for another kiss. “I can’t wait until I can do that whenever I want. As soon as we get out of this shit hole, it’s just gonna be you and me, all the time. Get a nice little flat in San Francisco. No one to bother us.” Crowley whispered against his lover’s skin. “Can’t wait,” Sam replies with a smile and they continue their patrol, hand in hand.
Sam glances back in the rear view mirror at his two kids in the back seat. “Ruby, give John back his army man, please,” Sam practically whines. Ever since the loss of Sam’s partner, Dean, Ruby has been acting out, and Sam, being the “big softie” that Dean always told him he was, can’t really be authoritative enough to control her. Needless to say, Ruby doesn’t give her brother back his toy. Once they reach the school, Sam takes John by the hand while Ruby runs off ahead. “Ruby, wait!” he calls, but she is already through the door. Moments later, she reappears holding the hand of… who is that? Sam thinks. As it turns out, it’s the second grade teacher, Mr. King. “Now, you’re not going to run off again, are you?” the man says, kneeling down to speak with Ruby. Sam approaches and watches with wonder. “No…” Ruby mumbles. “Good.” Mr. King stands and greets Sam. “This your little one?” Sam smiles. “Yeah.” “Well, I’d better keep a close eye on her. She seems like a handful.” Sam ran a loving hand through Ruby’s brown hair. “I’m Mr. King, by the way,” he introduces himself. “But you can call me Crowley.” Crowley’s smile gives Sam a warm, comfortable feeling that he’s sure he’s felt before but just can’t place. Nonetheless, he smiles back. “I’m Sam.” When they shake hands, the familiar grasp of Crowley’s palm fitting perfectly with his is so eerily familiar it sends a pleasant shiver down Sam’s spine.
Sam parks his speeder in the only spot left by the popular café in the upper city. The space lanes rush past, creating an artificial breeze among the soaring buildings, miles high above the earth’s surface. He walks in, brushing past the patrons of various status and species. He looks around the crowded restaurant, scanning the room for him. And this scene presents an eerie familiarity that Sam struggles with a moment but then forgets, once he catches the gaze of the one he was looking for. Crowley, an accomplished lawyer in the interplanetary courts who Sam had the pleasure of calling his date this fine evening. He blushed, a wide smile coming across his lips, and approached the man. “Hey,” Sam says rather awkwardly. “Evening…” Crowley nods. “Wow…” he says as Sam sits down across the booth. “You look amazing.” Sam blushes even harder. “You don’t clean up so bad yourself.” Crowley grinned a bashful smile. Their hands drifted towards each other’s across the table as they talked, and oddly enough, it wasn’t awkward when their fingers brushed and clasped together. It was more like a long awaited reunion than a first date.
Re: PROMPT: Team Balthazar/Castiel, Sherlock AU
Date: 2013-09-24 02:03 pm (UTC)http://gracelessanna.tumblr.com/post/62152152454
PROMPT: Team Balthazar/Castiel - Warm Bodies AU
Date: 2013-09-24 03:37 pm (UTC)PROMPT, Team Dean/Michael, World War Z
Date: 2013-09-24 05:15 pm (UTC)Re: PROMPT: Team Balthazar/Castiel, The Southern Vampire Mysteries
Date: 2013-09-24 06:14 pm (UTC)PROMPT: Team Balthazar/Castiel - Before I Go To Sleep AU
Date: 2013-09-24 07:15 pm (UTC)So basically, you could go with the whole - Lucifer wants Sam as his vessel and is using his memory loss as a way to manipulate him? Maybe, Sam a bit of stockholm syndrome in there? You can do what you want with it really, I'm just throwing ideas out there ^^
Re: FILL: Les Misérables AU (Team Castiel/Balthazar)
Date: 2013-09-24 07:22 pm (UTC)thank you so much for filling this one. ;-; ahhh, Balthazar needs hugs qwiuryq
Re: Fill, (Team Crowley/Sam) Le Phantom de l'Opéra AU
Date: 2013-09-24 07:22 pm (UTC)FILL - Re: Prompt, Team Charlie/Jo, Looking for Alaska AU (Megstiel)
Date: 2013-09-24 08:30 pm (UTC)http://lishuponastar.tumblr.com/post/62177469397/looking-for-alaska-au-if-people-were-rain-i
Fill, Team Castiel/Lucifer, The Picture of Dorian Gray AU
Date: 2013-09-24 10:31 pm (UTC)cross-posted here
---------------------------------
Perhaps it would have been better if Michael and Lucifer had never met.
As it was, they had met through a mutual acquaintance – an artist named Castiel. He was a man of few words, but his words always held meaning when he spoke. However, to Michael, he was nothing more than a funny man who enjoyed painting him. It was strange at first, being revered with such wide-eyed attention, but it was not unwelcomed. Castiel often spoke of his brother Lucifer, a man spoken so highly of, yet one who’s face Michael seldom saw.
It began as a prodding curiosity; a small wondering about the strange blond that he sometimes saw glimpses of. Michael only ever heard about Lucifer from the quiet artist, though it was mostly in passing. The brothers were oddly private about each other, their eyes speaking words that no other man could attempt to guess correctly. Perhaps, as he was seldom without the company of Castiel, his curiosity grew and grew.
And so he decided to meet the mysterious brother.
“He speaks of you often, you know.” The blond was reclined on a sofa, a glass of wine raised to his chin. His lips were formed into a casual smirk, eyelids hiding pale, icy blue. Michael could do nothing more than watch this lax creature, one so careless in his act, yet one so elegant in his carelessness.
“He hangs off me like a lost child some days. With brothers, so close as you two seem, I mustn’t ruin your bond.”
“Castiel is neither a child, nor is he lost. He simply searches for something with pure beauty and he paints it. He is a simpler creature – I’m afraid I will be the only one to know his complexities.” The smirk on Lucifer’s face fell into a gentler smile, though he daintily took a sip of his wine. The red painted his lips a colour close to crimson, and Michael felt a shiver run through his spine.
“Then your brother must find many things that capture his interest, am I right?” Lucifer shook his head to this, spurring confusion in the black-haired man.
“I’m afraid you have a unique beauty to you, and your youth certainly does not deter that. However,” his eyes finally opening to look Michael in the eye, “it is only for a fleeting moment.”
“What?”
“How old are you? Twenty? Twenty-three?”
“Twenty-one.”
Lucifer let out a quiet sigh. “In ten years’ time, your prime will have passed. You will no longer have the beauty you have now. The privileges of youth fade fast.”
Michael could feel a frown mar his face. “Then my youth will be wasted.”
A slow, rapacious smirk rose to Lucifer’s lips. “Only if you continue as you are now. Doing nothing, following all those carefully laid rules – these years will fly fast.”
“Ah, Lucifer,” both men’s head’s turned to view the artist, who’s face held a soft smile Michael had never seen on him before, “you never say a moral thing.”
The elder brother simply smiled as he stood, his glass placed delicately on the table. He made his way to the doorway, a hand gently prodding at Castiel’s back. “Well, this has been a lovely meeting. I hope to see you again, the next time my dear brother comes to paint.”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The painting was beautiful.
Michael had no trouble identifying the man as himself. It was a portrait of him, in his youthful beauty, painted with a loving hand and a careful eye.
“It’s a masterpiece.” Lucifer murmured quietly, stepping closer to the dark-haired youth, “I’ve never seen my brother paint anything quite like it. You’re certainly something unique, aren’t you, Michael xq?”
Michael eyed the painting, marveling at its beauty. The painting was of him, of his beauty, and his youth, eternally preserving his complexion for decades to come. And suddenly, he thought of a clock and the ever-flowing passage of time. He thought of what the man beside him had said, about ten, maybe even five years, left to his youth, which was waning with each passing day. And his eyes grew cold, as he stared into the warm, unlined eyes of the portrait.
“I wish the painting would grow old, rather than I.”
The two brothers said nothing at this request, though Michael heard a quick, inhalation of breath. He turned to face Castiel, whose face displayed nothing. Sharp blue eyes bore into his own, searching for something, though Michael had no idea what that may be. Eventually, the black-haired artist sighed and bowed his head, clutching a paint pallet closer to his chest.
“You’ve ruined him.”
Michael’s eyebrows drew together, his confusion growing as Castiel turned on his heel to leave. Lucifer let out a bark of laughter, leaning to press his lips against the shell of Michael’s ear.
“You were right. I don’t like sharing my Castiel.”
And suddenly, Michael found himself in his sitting room, alone with nothing more than the painting of himself as company.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Michael couldn’t remember when he started to notice the painting changing.
He had been at the theatre, when an actor named Dean Winchester had caught his eye. For a while, a mere week, Michael had been in love. And yet, the boy ruined that love with his own, his beauty stemming from his art, his acting, and not his actual self. Michael fell out of love, and he had no qualms with informing the young man that tidbit of information. When he had returned home that night, the painting had changed, aging, with an almost malicious aura radiating off it. The smile which had grace its face had turned dark, almost spiteful.
Michael ordered for a sheet to be placed over it and for the portrait to be moved to his bedroom.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
His next few days are spent while drunk. Everything around him is hazy, women flock around him because of his beauty, and his glass was filled with alcohol every time it got low.
For weeks, he has the taste of all kinds of drinks in his tongue, and his world spins in a way that wasn’t disliked.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Michael never knew how good sex was. The pure euphoria of being inside someone, moving, warm, towards a pleasure that could not be achieved in any other way – he couldn’t remember why he had tried to remain so pure before.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Years pass before meets Castiel again.
When he does, it’s only because Castiel has come to his home. It’s the first time Michael’s seen him without a palette and a brush. He’s alone – Lucifer isn’t with him, and it’s been years, so many years since he last saw him.
“I’ve heard rumours. It appears to me that they’re true.” Castiel seemed unbothered as usual, his face as stoic as he could remember. His arms were crossed over his chest, a smidge of paint covering the hems.
“It’s been a long time, old friend. I wasn’t expecting-”
“Michael,” Castiel’s voice was firm, his eyes boring into his similar to how they had the last time the two had met, “show me the painting.”
Michael dropped his polite smile, motioning to the artist to follow him. The two made down dimly lit hallways to his bedroom, where the painting sat, propped up over a mirror. No one was allowed in his quarters, save him, for the portrait had distorted into an unrecognizable figure. It was a creature of pure maliciousness, with eyes dark and cruel.
Michael tore his gaze away from it, fixating on the rare emotions on Castiel’s face. There, on full display, was horror and contempt so purely wrought that the aristocrat had trouble believing the man to be the same artist he had known long ago.
And in his fingers started an itch, a burn. Beside him, on a table, sat a perfectly clean knife, used to open envelopes, yet no duller than any other useful blade. It found its way into his hand, his fingers curling around the hilt without his knowledge.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
The wood was painted in red. The mirror was painted in red. Most importantly, the portrait was painted in red.
At the base of his feet lay a cooling body, the body of an old friend. But it was his fault, wasn’t it? Michael smiled widely. Yes, it was his fault anything had happened at all. He was not wrong to kill. It wasn’t even killing, for the body in front of him could be, in no way human. After all, it was this artist’s work that had cursed him (gifted him?) with the portrait. Surely, this was not a sin?
The painting laughed a different tune.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
“Where is he?”
Michael stepped back from the blond in front of him, feeling the waves upon waves of anger coming from him. Though his voice was calm, Lucifer’s eyes were cold, so cold that they seemed to burn into the very core of him. They were the eyes of the Devil himself, pouring into him, as if he could find the fate of his brother (lover. Surely, there had been something between the two) within his eyes.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lucifer. I haven’t seen Castiel, or you, in many years.”
Lucifer tilted his head, though his eyes remained cold. He stepped closer to the aristocrat, a scowl at his lips. Slowly, he bent close, his chest touching Michael’s in a way that would have been enjoyable years before. Lips brushed against an ear, warm breath hovering over the skin. “Bring me there. Bring me to where you killed him.”
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
The portrait seemed to stare down at them, at the two bodies and the pool of blood. One corpse had dark hair, the other had light, and both had crimson splattered on them. Their hands barely touched, blood soaking into the carpet and into the wood.
The portrait stared at them. It stared at the light and the dark.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Michael later had the bodies removed, and the blood stains cleaned. His money saved his name from this one sin.
The painting twister again, distorting darker and darker.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Adam was the strangest person Michael had ever met.
He came from the same family was Dean Winchester, the one who had died in a tragic accident so many years ago. He was neither an actor, nor an artist. He was pure, loyal, independent, and so mature for his youth.
Perhaps that is why Michael found himself so entranced.
Adam made him want to be a better person. For each day he spent with Adam, a less day he would spend drinking, or pleasing himself with women. For each smile Adam gave him, the faces of the two brothers from long ago seemed to melt away. And for each touch, a hand on the shoulder, or a kiss on the cheek in private, Michael seemed to grow taller, warmer.
It changed the day he invited Adam to his home.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
It had been a while before Michael started to worry.
Adam had gone somewhere in the house, claiming that, though he enjoyed Michael’s company, his bladder had other plans. That had been a fair while ago. True enough, none of the servants seemed to have seen the blond. Michael saw no other choice but to find the man himself.
A smile rose to his lips as he thought of the blond.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Of all the places he thought to look, Michael had never thought that the blond would find this particular room.
There, in the center, stood Adam, with a dark black sheet clutched in his hands. Michael didn’t have to turn to know where the sheet had once been. The blond’s eyes were locked onto the portrait, the one painted by someone he had once called a friend.
And there, the itch started again. The burning passed through his fingers, making him reach for the knife.
’No,’ he thought to himself, ’I don’t want to kill Adam, right? He makes me better, doesn’t he?’
The portrait, so cruel and so disfigured, with line of age creasing his skin, stared down once more at bright, crimson blood.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Michael let out a sob, his fingers still wrapped around the letter knife. He sunk to his knees, his free hand gently brushing Adam’s blond hair. The boy’s bright blue eyes (not unlike Lucifer’s; not unlike Castiel’s) stared at the ceiling with shock, and perhaps fear.
Michael slowly brought his gaze to the portrait, anger flaring up in him. He stood, his arm raised high and the knife poised to the painting that had brought him so much grief.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
The portrait was beautiful, depicting a handsome man who was perhaps twenty years of age. There was a subtle smile, eyes bright with youth. It stared down at two cold, dead bodies, lying on the floor. One was a withered old man, with hair dark as the night, though a few specks of white and gray marred it. The other was a strange young man, with bright blue eyes and pale blond hair.
The painting stare at them; it stared at the dark and its light.
FILL, Team Crowley/Sam, In The Chapel
Date: 2013-09-24 11:46 pm (UTC)Ruby’s mouth was hot on Anna’s clit, gorgeously hot, and when she sucked hard. Soon enough, Ruby was fucking into Anna with three fingers, stretching her wide, and Anna was giving choked little moans as she leaned back against the chapel lectern.
Ruby pressed closer and kissed Anna, and as they deepened it she reached out to cup Ruby’s cunt, slip two fingers against her. Ruby moaned against Anna’s mouth when the other woman pressed her thumb to her clit, and then they both froze. “Shit, it’s Crowley.” Ruby whispered as the doors opened, and they went still.
They heard him drop into one of the pews, and Anna closed her eyes as she heard a soft crackle and then quiet, tinny voices come from a small speaker. “Is he watching TV?” She asked, and Ruby nodded very slowly.
“Shit.” Anna whispered. And then, God help her, Ruby leaned down and slowly put her mouth On Anna’s clit again. Anna tried to hold her sounds back, biting hard on her own lip and grabbing at Ruby’s shoulders and her hair, shivering.
She wanted to fucking scream, trying to keep from doing so. And Ruby, damn her, damn her, she knew, and she looked up at Anna with a smug look on her face.
Oh, God, Anna was going to come with the fucking prison guard not ten metres away.
Re: Fill, Team Castiel/Lucifer, The Picture of Dorian Gray AU
Date: 2013-09-25 12:26 am (UTC)Fill, Team Anna/Jo, Dorian Grey AU
Date: 2013-09-25 12:45 am (UTC)(if the mods decide not to count this since it's close to mooseley's design I understand)
http://thedahlingdarling.tumblr.com/post/62199365681/michael-x-adam-dorian-gray-au
PROMPT: Team Dean/Castiel/Samandriel, The Island of the Blue Dolphins AU
Date: 2013-09-25 01:37 am (UTC)Hmm, well I've had this Idea bouncing around in my head of Jo and her brother Sam stranded and alone on the Island after her tribe leaves. After her brother is killed by a pack of wild dogs she vows revenge but later has a change of heart and tames wolf!Lucifer to be her companion.
I guess if you really wanted to change it up Lucifer could be a shifter...
PROMPT, Team Anna/Jo, Uglies AU
Date: 2013-09-25 01:56 am (UTC)((I know this sort of reads like Destiel, but it's intended as Dean/Anna or even Cas/Anna, as I'm pretty sure Tally and Shay both like David for a while when they first meet him))
Prompt, Team Castiel/Lucifer, Manfred AU
Date: 2013-09-25 01:59 am (UTC)Prompt, Team Castiel/Lucifer, The Yellow Wallpaper AU
Date: 2013-09-25 02:09 am (UTC)Michael (John in the original) believes that his wife Anna (the narrator in the original) simply needs more rest. He isolates her (for her own good, of course) in an upstairs room, but Anna can see something lurking behind the horrible yellow pattern that plasters her walls. Bonus points if you actually write Michael as someone who means well rather than making him purely antagonistic. Extra bonus points for creeping.
Prompt, Team Abaddon/Naomi, Chicago AU
Date: 2013-09-25 03:06 am (UTC)