fantalaimon: (Default)
[personal profile] fantalaimon posting in [community profile] srs2013
Bonus Round 2 is now closed, and Bonus Round 3 is now open!

This round, the theme is sins/virtues.

If you have an idea for something you'd like to see, please leave the ship, a sin/virtue, and any other details as a PROMPT below. After you've posted, 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. Do not forget to change the title of the comment when posting a FILL as a reply to a PROMPT. NSFW prompts and fills should mention this in the summary or at the top of the post. Reminder that team names must be in alphabetical order (ie. Balthazar/Death, not Death/Balthazar) and that portmanteaus (ie. Lubriel, Annaby) are not allowed when identifying team affiliation.

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). Due to some unforeseen complication from last round, we have changed the rules. It is now 15 points per fill for the first three fills by three different people. So if someone does a fic for Fill 1 and a fanmix for Fill 2, then get 15 + 10 points, and then Person 2 does a fill and Person 3 does a fill, so even though those would be fills 3 and 4, they count as 15 and 15 points since they're fills by new people. You are still not permitted to 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 is now closed.
fatalchild: (Default)
From: [personal profile] fatalchild
Warning for blood and violence and general unpleasantness.

The message was very simple.

They have a sword. She killed Gabriel, and--

Lucifer saw red. He knew his younger brother had been involved with some less than reputable beings, but this-- this was too much.

He didn’t intend a massacre. He only wanted one, just the one who had killed Gabriel, plunged his own sword into his chest. Lucifer could only imagine the pitiful glance he would have given her. He was, after all, on her side. Of course, she’s hiding behind the others, but that won’t matter. Lucifer will find her.

The first one he kills on principle. There is, perhaps, something to be said for self-preservation, but this petty, self-serving nonsense coupled with the declaration of divinity turns his stomach, twists it up so much that Nick stirs within him for the first time in months. A single snap of one traitorous little neck, and Lucifer starts to feel better.

As he advances down the corridor, he expects them to flee. He wouldn’t chase them, wouldn’t have any reason to, but they throw themselves at him. Briefly, he wonders if they’re protecting her, but then Lucifer decides that he doesn’t particularly care. Likewise, their names and faces mean nothing to him. They’re just worthless, souless lumps of flesh that break apart like anything else does if enough pressure is applied.

The first one that runs at him, he catches by the throat. He can feel the race of a pulse under his palm, the clench of a panicked swallow. Lucifer’s fingers curl into the flesh, tear the windpipe out, leaving the god a sputtering mess on the floor. If Gabriel doesn’t get to breathe anymore, neither do you. The next one is holding some kind of weapon and giving a battle cry as he rushes forward, as if he were some kind of warrior, as if he were some kind of hero, as if he were righteous. His ribs break apart in his chest, collapsing in on his internal organs, and Lucifer offers a hint of a smile because, really, they’re all greedy and shallow and prideful. Two more then, at least showing some semblance of strategy. It’s not enough now though, and they fall together as well. One hisses the word Satan, growls out that he’s a monster through bloody lips, and Lucifer stops, Michael’s glare flashing in his memory, that same cruel whisper echoing inside his mind. Monster. You’re a monster, Lucifer. He turns, bends, hooks his fingers into him to tear him apart. The sound of the god screaming is nearly drowned out by tearing skin and snapping bone.

I’m an angel, he thinks. Angel. Angel. Angel.

Hell roars in his ears.

The hall is smeared with red when he’s finished. It’s spattered and sprayed across the walls, across his face, soaking into his clothes. Lucifer doesn’t care. Beautiful, they used to say. The Morning Star is beautiful. Now they say monster.

If they want a monster, he’ll give them one.

He’s unsurprised to find the Winchesters here, unsurprised to find that they stare at him with horror too. He smiles through it, pretends it doesn’t bother him, but his rage flares at the realization of what these supposed gods intended. His brother. His vessel. He has so little, and they would seek to take it all.

The ease with which his hand tears through the next god’s chest is immensely satisfying. The warm stickiness clings to him up to his elbow, and Lucifer sneers as he shakes the corpse off. He’s lost count by now, not that he ever cared to try and keep such, but there’s a literal trail of bodies leading him here.

And there she is.

The flames engulf him, like insult to injury after all she’s already done, a sick reminder of where he’s spent so many years while things like this ran free. He’s incensed by her hubris, that she acts indignant, acts as if he has wronged her after what she stole from him. He steps forward, a cold smile playing over his lips at the promise of vindication. Her body is soft against his knuckles, frail and easily broken as she’s thrown off her feet. Lucifer glares down at her, sees the fear in her eyes, wonders briefly if Gabriel was afraid in his last moments. He almost surely was, and because of that, Lucifer lets the moment hang. He decides that she doesn’t deserve to look like that, doesn’t deserve to look wronged, and so he lifts his foot to crush her face and wipe every expression away forever.

He’s thrown then, sliding across the floor and crashing against the wall with enough force to disorient him. Lucifer might be more angry if he weren’t so confused. These things shouldn’t be able to hurt him, shouldn’t be able to--

“Luci, I’m home.”

Lucifer stares quietly for a moment, a thousand childhood memories fitting into place at the familiar voice echoing beneath the vessel’s vocal cords. He looks up, finds Gabriel very much alive, and forgets how to move. A cold, stony pit replaces the burning knots in his stomach as he realizes that his little brother set him up. Lucifer forgets how to be angry, and his heart simply breaks.