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srs20132013-09-20 06:17 pm
fantalaimon) wrote in srs20132013-09-20 06:17 pm
Bonus Round 1
Bonus 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 Dean/Castiel/Samandriel, The Picture of Dorian Gray AU
Fill: (Team Crowley/Sam) Dorian Grey AU
http://mooseleys.tumblr.com/post/61977122115/michael-adam-dorian-grey-au-for-srs2013-x
Re: Fill: (Team Crowley/Sam) Dorian Grey AU
Fill, Team Castiel/Lucifer, The Picture of Dorian Gray AU
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.
Re: Fill, Team Castiel/Lucifer, The Picture of Dorian Gray AU
Fill, Team Anna/Jo, Dorian Grey AU
(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