Life on Mars Flashfiction

Conspiracy Challenge, by the small hobbit

thesmallhobbit — Wed, 21 Sep 2011 20:52:29 GMT

Title: Now you see it; now you don't
Rating: Green cortina
Word count: 1,050
Notes: With thanks to my beta jinxed100

Now you see it; now you don't

Mod Stuff - Conspiracy Challenge

talkingtothesky — Thu, 15 Sep 2011 20:27:15 GMT

From historical AUs to wild theories to Sam's disembodied voices, you can do with the prompt 'conspiracy' anything you feel like.

Slightly less than a fortnight this time, as entries are due by the 28th September. Have fun! :D

Mod Stuff - Redemption Challenge Closed

talkingtothesky — Thu, 15 Sep 2011 20:15:14 GMT

Click the corresponding tag to read the responses to this challenge. New challenge will be along shortly! :)

Redemption challenge, by the small hobbit

thesmallhobbit — Thu, 01 Sep 2011 20:47:45 GMT

Title: The Pawnbroker
Rating: Green cortina
Word count: 1,150
Notes: With thanks to my beta jinxed100 and apologies if this doesn't go up correctly, I'm having trouble with LJ

http://thesmallhobbit.livejournal.com/28980.html

Mod Stuff - Redemption Challenge

talkingtothesky — Wed, 17 Aug 2011 17:50:46 GMT

Your challenge this fortnight is to write something connected to the theme of redemption. Feel feel to interpret that any way you can think of.

Entries are due by August 31st. Good luck!

Mod Stuff - Happy Endings Challenge Closed

talkingtothesky — Wed, 17 Aug 2011 17:35:18 GMT

Thanks to everyone who contributed! All the entries can be found under the corresponding tag. New challenge coming up. :)

Happy Endings challenge, by Hambel

hambelandjemima — Tue, 12 Jul 2011 10:21:05 GMT

Title: Recovery
Author: Hambel
Rating: Green Cortina
Word Count: 444
Pairing/Characters: Sam, Gene
Summary: A deleted scene in 2.08. Yes, it is, really.
Disclaimer: They're not mine and no money has exchanged hands.

Recovery

He went to Gene. After arrests had been made and the accused locked away, after his report had been neatly typed up and left on Rathbone's desk, only then did Sam go to Gene in the hospital.

"You took your time," Gene grumbled, accepting the offered half bottle of Bell's.

"Villains to bang up, reports to type out," Sam told him blithely, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "I knew you'd be well looked after."

Gene grunted and took a healthy swig from the bottle. "Staff Nurse Jones fancies me," he said.

Sam frowned and leaned in closer, pulling at Gene's eyelids with his finger and thumb. Gene swatted the hand away. "How much pain medication have they given you? Should you be drinking?" Sam asked.

Gene shrugged, answering, "Nowhere near enough," to the first question and ignoring the second.

Sam pulled back and looked around the room. "Get yourself changed," he said. He caught a look of irritation on Gene's face. "You're being discharged, aren't you?"

"I would be," Gene said, raising his voice and glaring at the nurse's station. "Except they've hidden my clothes." To Sam he said, "Apparently, some quack has to poke at me a bit more before he'll decide I can go home. I can't leave in this…" he flapped his hand at the green hospital gown he was wearing and raised his voice again for the benefit of any nurses that might be nearby, "… it doesn't even cover my arse!"

"You'd have a job finding anything that big," Sam pointed out.

Gene winced and lay back down on the bed, pain marring his features.

"Do you want something?" Sam asked. "I can get a nurse."

"I want a blowjob," Gene said. "A near-death experience always makes me randy."

"Breathing makes you randy," Sam told him. He sat down on the bed and gently pulled the blanket away from Gene's injured leg. He trailed the backs of his fingers lightly over the taut white bandage wrapped around Gene's thigh and watched Gene watching his fingers.

"You were leaving," Gene said. The words were accusing, but the tone was not.

"I was," Sam agreed in the same tone. He turned his hand over and pressed his palm against the bandage, as if his hands had some miracle healing touch. "I'm not now."

"What happened to all your friends in Hyde? The ones who loved you? The ones you couldn't wait to get back to?"

Sam lifted his hand and pulled the blanket back, smoothing it down over Gene's hip and thigh. He looked up again and met the questioning look. He smiled.

"Figments of my imagination," he said.

Happy Endings challenge, by thesmallhobbit

thesmallhobbit — Mon, 11 Jul 2011 07:43:28 GMT

Title: Birthday Boy
Rating: White Cortina
Word Count: 630 words
Summary: Just fluff, as befits the challenge

Sam Tyler stomped out of CID at five o’clock on Friday afternoon. It was his birthday the next day and he had thought that, although he’d kept quiet about it, Gene Hunt would at least have said “happy birthday” to him. Annie had given him a card and a present, but the Guv had totally ignored him. So, when Chris had asked him if he were coming to the Railway Arms he’d said he’d got better things to do and gone home and drunk the remains of a bottle of wine whilst watching the television.

He woke late the following morning, made himself a mug of coffee and opened his solitary card, which he placed on the kitchen table. He then opened his present from Annie. He hadn’t been sure what to expect, but was still surprised to discover she had given him a brightly coloured alarm clock. He’d been late for work a few times lately, blaming his clock when Gene shouted at him and Annie had clearly assumed that it had needed replacing. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that it was because he had forgotten to wind it up.

Sam went back to bed, nursing his coffee mug. There seemed little point in getting dressed; no-one would be coming to celebrate his birthday with him. He knew he could have suggested to Annie that they go out for a drink, but he’d been hoping that Gene would have made a similar suggestion, which he would much rather accept. And now he would be totally alone for his birthday.

He thought about his five year old self and tried to remember how he would be feeling. It had been the first birthday that his dad hadn’t come home and he’d spent most of the day telling his mum that he was sure he would come, until his mum had told him to “give it a rest” so sharply that he’d burst into tears. He’d had a little party with a few friends and there’d been jelly and ice cream and chocolate cake and after they’d gone home his mum had put him to bed and read one of the stories from the new book she’d given him. And then Auntie Heather had arrived and given him her present, which was a plastic bucket and spade. At first he’d been a bit disappointed, but she’d told him that they were for him to take with them as they were going to Blackpool the next weekend. So he was quite happy when his mum had tucked him up and he lay in bed with one arm cuddling his teddy and the other holding the bucket and spade with Ivanhoe curled up at the bottom of the bed as a birthday treat.

Sam sniffed. Everything had been so easy when he was five. Even his tears had been wiped away by the magic of his mum’s apron. And it was always sunny when Auntie Heather took him to Blackpool. But now he could hear it was raining and there was no-one around to see him cry, let alone wipe his tears away.

He heard someone knocking on his door and went to answer it, rubbing his sleeve across his eyes. He opened the door slightly to see who it was and was instantly pushed out of the way as the Guv came in.

Gene took one look at the younger man. “Tears on your birthday, Sammy-boy? We can’t have that. I had been going to suggest we get out of the city and go to Blackpool for the day, but now that it’s raining you might want to do something else.”

Sam smiled through his tears. “I’d like nothing better than to spend my birthday in Blackpool with you.”

[mod stuff] Happy Endings Challenge

jantalaimon — Wed, 06 Jul 2011 20:14:30 GMT

Your mission for this fortnight, should you choose to accept it, is the happy endings challenge. Take this theme in any direction you choose...except possibly internally. Your 1973flashfic mods can't be held responsible if you do. ;)

This challenge shall run until 20 July. Hop to it!

[mod stuff] Temptation Challenge Closed

jantalaimon — Wed, 06 Jul 2011 20:11:06 GMT

Many thanks to all who participated. All entries in the Temptation Challenge can now be found via the community tag of the same name.

New challenge coming up shortly! Brace yourselves! :)

Temptation Challenge, by talkingtothesky

talkingtothesky — Wed, 22 Jun 2011 12:40:35 GMT

Title: Red and Green
Rating: Um, green? Possibly blue.
Word count: 445
Notes: Sam/Gene. Inspired by basaltgrrl 's fantastic artwork, go send her lots of love, now.
Summary: Sam in Gene's green shirt. (Very deep, emotional stuff, this. :P)

“Don’t know why you bothered getting dressed,” Gene leered at him from the armchair.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Can you think about something else for five minutes? My arse is sore enough as it is.”

“I’m glad to hear it!” Gene eyes glinted in triumph. Then he continued, quieter: “And don’t pretend you’re better than me, you’ve told me before how much you like that shirt.”

Sam folded the overlong pale green sleeves back over his wrists and shrugged. “Was the closest thing I picked up, that’s all.”

“Liar.” Gene stood, extinguishing his cigarette and advancing on Sam. He was only partially dressed himself – vest crumpled, trousers and briefs pulled on, but zip undone and belt nowhere to be seen. With the two fingers which had previously held the cigarette, he traced a path down the expanse of skin exposed between the tip of Sam’s chin and the done-up second button.

Gene’s shoulders were broader than Sam’s, so with the collar splayed open Sam’s neck and a large part of his chest remained on show. Strictly speaking, Sam admitted in his head, putting this shirt on hadn’t been an entirely uncalculated move. He liked the way he was surrounded by Gene’s scent, the feel against his skin of material he had so many times watched pull taut across Gene’s back and stomach.

Sam gulped when Gene’s fingers moved back up over his adam’s apple, pressing just this side of firmly. Gene’s expression had turned inscrutable. Sam stood stock still as Gene raked him over with his gaze. Then in an instant Gene’s grip changed, holding him about the throat and using the power this afforded him to back Sam against the nearest wall. He wasn’t squeezing tight enough to completely cut off Sam’s air supply, but Sam noted the lick of fear which skittered through his veins nonetheless. Sometimes, tempting Gene was like waving a red flag in front of a bull: dangerous, unpredictable, and ultimately very messy.

“Quite a pretty picture you make, eh?” It was spoken aggressively, but the hand loosened and let go, moving to push against the side of Sam’s face, drawing their mouths closer together. Sam lifted his arm and tugged sharply at the fine hairs at the nape of Gene’s neck, pulling him backwards until there was enough space to launch himself off the wall. Getting a leg between Gene’s, he levered upwards and spun, catching Gene off guard and reversing their positions.

Gene’s furious expression as his back hit the wall was priceless. Sam happily capitalized on it, hissing “Got you,” before initiating the kiss himself.

Sometimes, Sam knew, tempting Gene could be a very rewarding experience indeed.

Temptation Challenge, by margo_kim

margo_kim — Thu, 16 Jun 2011 04:00:48 GMT

Title: Nine Crimes
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 300
Notes: Title from Damien Rice song of same name and written for "temptation" challenge. Fic includes cheating and non-explicit sex
Summary: Sam/Gene, with Sam/Annie and Gene/Missus. Sam doesn't want to keep doing this with Gene, but he can't bring himself to stop.

Nine Crimes

Temptation Challenge, by thesmallhobbit

thesmallhobbit — Mon, 13 Jun 2011 07:48:32 GMT

Title: Gene Hunt could resist everything
Rating: White Cortina
Word Count: 298 words
Summary: Gene behaves as would be expected

Gene Hunt looked at the crumpled scrap of paper and wondered what to do with it. He could of course just ignore it, but the temptation to make use of it was just too great. He’d found the paper when rummaging in Sam Tyler’s bin – not that he made a habit of looking through his junior officer’s rubbish, but he’d accidentally knocked his fag packet in there when glancing though the file Tyler had left on his desk. When he’d reached in to retrieve his fags he’d also picked up the scrap of paper. Curiosity had got the better of him and he’d smoothed out the screwed up piece of paper. On it had been a heart with an arrow through the middle, with an S pointing towards a G. Gene took the file and carried it into his office, carefully placing the incriminating evidence just inside.

When Sam returned from the canteen Gene called out to him. “Tyler, my office. Now!”

Sam entered the office.

“Shut the door!” Gene ordered. “Can you explain to me what you’ve written on page two?” He pointed to the file.

Sam came over and opened the file, ready to patiently go through his reasoning as to why Watkins couldn’t be guilty. He saw the scrap of paper and blushed furiously.

“Um, well, er,” he tailed off.

“Nothing better to say?” Gene watched the younger man squirm. He knew he shouldn’t, but the temptation to prolong the agony was too strong.

“I suggest you come back at five o’clock and provide me with a full explanation then.”

Throughout the afternoon Gene took great pleasure in taking every opportunity to stand behind his DI’s desk, waiting until the colour had risen up the back of his neck and then moving on again.

Temptation challenge, by awabubbles

awabubbles — Sun, 12 Jun 2011 23:40:48 GMT

Title: Bluffin' With Mah Muffin
Rating: Blue Cortina
Characters: Gene/Sam, Vince, Clive
Word count: 646
Notes: Speaking of using lyrics for titles...
Summary: Gene wants a smoke during a poker game. Sam makes him want something else.

Bluffin’ With Mah Muffin

The lights are dim but they still cast long shadows on the serious faces of the players around a small table at the Arms. In a beaten up ashtray there’s 50p from each of them along with a gray landscape of ashes and butts, their collective history of nights spent like this. A mismatched compilation of chips are stacked on the table, repurposed evidence from past cases and pieces they use from the lost and found, their value decided before the game because of this disparity.

It’s the night of their weekly poker match and tonight’s players include Gene at the head, Vincent sitting to his right, Clive to his left, and Sam across from him. Vincent is an easy read and bets too much. The money Gene wins off him usually pays for his own tab by the end of the night. Clive blames a nervous twitch for his poker face and he blames bad luck for his consistently terrible hands. Sam looks sure of himself for this round; a decent pile of chips beside him, but Gene knows his own hand will be hard to beat.

There’s only one thing standing in his way: Gene wants a smoke and he wants one badly.

The tar from his last drag is a carpet on his tongue, mixing in with the saliva when he wipes it against his clenched teeth. The delicate paper between his lips, the press of a match against his thumb as he lights it, that first long breath in, the burn he doesn’t notice any more, and the slow exhale of smoke rolling into the air between himself and his detectives: he imagines the feel of it from beginning to end.

Half a pack a day is Gene’s usual ration. It’s about time he filled that quota, if his pack of Players No.5 weren’t across the table resting innocuously next to Sam.

Gene stretches his hand out a quarter of the way and expects his DI to fill in the rest. “Pass us our fags, Sam.”

Sam never looks up from the cards splayed in his hand, censuring Gene with a calculated tone and an impassive face that takes him by surprise. “You’re an addict.”

The denial makes him inhale like cigarette smoke in reverse while he’s mopping the dryness of his mouth with a leaden tongue.

Somewhere in the world he hears Vincent raise their current bid.

“Asked for my pack not your opinion.” He’s testy because the last thing in the world he needs right now is Sam’s lip, his impertinence, his sanctimonious self that makes Gene squirm, and ache, and want.

There’s another stack thrown in the middle. Sam ignores him, calls and raises. Clive folds with the same nervous twitch, all of this while Gene is burning in his seat.

That’s it. He’s had enough. He tries to take the carton himself this time but the chips are stacked against him, Sam is two moves ahead. His DI sweeps Gene's desire off the table and deposits it in his lap.

When Sam looks up with a demeanor as cool as steel Gene is struck dumb.

“Your move, guv.”

He doesn’t need to smile because Gene knows Sam is enjoying this. Sam wants him to want that cigarette, to think of the satisfaction he’ll get reaching between his DI’s thighs until he finds everything he really wants and really needs but can’t have, not in front of Clive and Vincent at least. Gene tastes the tobacco on his tongue one more time, swiping and scraping until his veins constrict in a faux nicotine rush of desire.

He knows he’s been beaten so he silently folds and leaves the table.

Gene forgets how much he wanted that cigarette after Sam shags his brains out.

Marriage of Convenience

lozenger8 — Sun, 12 Jun 2011 15:01:31 GMT

Title: Marriage of Convenience
Rating: Blue Cortina
Word Count: 277 words.
Notes: Gene-centric gen for the ‘temptation’ challenge. Based on Paul McDermott’s song 'Bottle'.
Summary: Gene thinks about one of his habits.

Marriage of Convenience

Mod Stuff - Temptation Challenge

talkingtothesky — Wed, 08 Jun 2011 11:23:10 GMT

Your task this fortnight is to write something on the theme of temptation. Is Annie struggling not to indulge in that extra bar of chocolate? Is Gene itching to punch someone? Is Sam tempted to listen to the voices in his head and go to the dark side?

Deadline for this challenge is June 22nd. Have fun! :)

Mod Stuff - Prison Challenge Closed

talkingtothesky — Wed, 08 Jun 2011 11:16:40 GMT

The prison challenge is now over. A big thanks to everyone who participated! Entries can be found under the appropriate tag.

Prison Challenge, by templeremus

templeremus — Tue, 07 Jun 2011 19:11:57 GMT

Title: Hyde
Rating: Green Cortina for disturbing imagery
Characters: Two Sams, the Test Card Girl.
Word Count: 300
Summary: There is a prison in Sam Tyler's mind, but he is rarely the prisoner. Gen fic. Dark.

The room is smaller than you remembered it; nineteen paces end to end, four across, starting in each case with back against the wall. Sometimes, before, there was the corridor; at odd moments you can still feel its drifting shadows, its phone that rang even when off the hook. Now there are only cabinets of dead space, and the television’s flicker to move by.

You spend your nightless days beside that screen. Watch your double, your body with Sam Tyler’s mind, as he battles for control. He dreams visions meant for you, and wakes shouting as they fade.

He lives.

Once, the cell is broken. You start up to the dull whoosh-click of a respirator, as a voice from the corner snarls, Get off the ruddy phone.

Shielded by glass, the otherworld Sam blenches and turns, his mouth shaping words that seem to fall like hammer-strokes, forcing the soul from you. No no. No no no-

Darkness, tinged red behind lidded eyes.

Warm air, moved by others, and gentle hands brushing their disquiet across your forehead.

But straightaway you can feel his protests, more vivid and hot than any cry you can hope to make.

They drown you. You fall.

Not long afterwards you surrender. Sam Tyler rages by your parents’ graves, their names flat and toneless within the barrier. He cleaves a path through time, plunging you into darkness, reducing the world to static. Eyes shut, the only prayer left is for an escape.

Escape declines to appear. Light returns, and the screen, and Tyler is laughing with his stolen mouth, rejoicing in a sunlit kiss. The blonde girl, your old friend, comes to bid goodbye. Then she folds the picture into its solitary dot, and all is safe, and quiet, and complete.

No-one can touch you in here.

Prison Challenge, by talkingtothesky

talkingtothesky — Mon, 06 Jun 2011 18:50:06 GMT

Title: Can't Tell the Difference
Rating: White Cortina
Pairing: None. Gen. Sam, TCG
Wordcount: 100

“What are you waiting for, Sam?” She asks, all innocent curiosity belied by the darkening of her eyes. “Why haven’t you gone home yet?”

“I will! I will get home!” He stutters, cowering at her feet. Hiding from a child.

“You can’t, though, can you?” She clicks her fingers and the lights go out. “You’re trapped.”

---

Sam rattles the bars of his self-made cage and gets nowhere.

Maybe he needs to be locked away, for his own safety. And maybe his subconscious knows that.

---

There is nothing quite like tasting freedom.

The moment Sam jumps, he finds it.

Prison Challenge, acidqueen31

acidqueen31 — Sun, 05 Jun 2011 22:15:51 GMT

Title: All The Things That I Should Say
Author: acidqueen31
Rating: White Cortina
Word Count: 533
Notes: Slash, Gene/Sam. Title from "I Wish I Knew (How It Would Feel To Be Free)" by Nina Simone.

Gene feels more trapped now than he did jammed inside a cell on a murder charge. That’s irony. Now, lying sated in a warm bed, he realizes that he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place- and it’s not just irony; it’s bloody bad timing. He tries to unwrap his arms from Sam’s torso without waking him. He stirs and Gene freezes, but the smaller man just sighs and presses his face deeper against the pillow. Gene’s arm is falling asleep. A quick glance at the clock shows that it’s two in the morning. Do it like a plaster, he thinks. Just do it fast and he won’t even notice.

Gene yanks his arm out from under Sam; he holds his breath. Sam doesn’t move, and Gene isn’t sure whether he’s relieved or disappointed.

Wincing as the bed creaks he pulls himself away and gathers his clothes from the floor. One of his socks is missing, and he resolves to look for it the next time he’s here before kicking himself and swearing under his breath. There isn’t supposed to be a next time, there wasn’t even supposed to be a this time, but even though he tries and tries to stay as far away from Sam’s apartment as possible he always ends up there. Sometimes he’s legitimately drunk, but most of the time he fakes a slight wobble, a slur. It’s easier to do if he pretends he’s not all there, if he can convince Sam or maybe himself that it’s the whiskey talking, the whiskey touching, the whiskey not wanting to leave.

Gene sits on the sofa, wearing just one sock and wondering where he should go. There are still some bars open at this time of night, not respectable places but ones that’ll serve you a drink all the same. He could sod off, drive away in the Cortina, but there’s a part of him worrying that the noise of the engine might wake Sam. He doesn’t know why that thought bothers him.

He could walk. Go down to the canal, maybe. Or he could go to CID, hope that it would be empty and take a kip on the sofa in his office. That would be good- lending a tiny bit of truth to a great big lie when he told the missus he’d spent the night at the station. A grain of salt in a china sugar bowl.

There’s a soft rustle and a groan of the bedsprings, and Sam rolls over to face Gene. His eyes are heavy lidded and his face is alternating dark and pale, moonlight broken up by the venetian blinds. He blinks.

“Come back to bed.” He murmurs. Gene focuses on the door, trying to pretend he didn’t hear.

“Gene.” Sam stretches out a hand, voice stronger. “C’mere.”

Gene takes off his one sock and his trousers and his shirt and takes the hand, crawling back in. Sam smiles, loose and wide and half-asleep, and Gene lets him kiss the back of his hand and squeezes his fingers tighter.
He wonders why he never escapes when he has the chance. He lies down, pulling Sam closer, and silently resigns himself to prison.

Prison Challenge, by awabubbles

awabubbles — Thu, 02 Jun 2011 22:22:47 GMT

Title: Mr Superhero
Author: awabubbles
Rating: White Cortina
Word Count: 630
Notes: Some canon borrowed from A2A for Ray's background.
Summary: There's a reason Ray wants to become DI so much.

Mr Superhero

When Ray Carling fucks up no one knows it better than he does. Not that it happens often, depending on who you ask, although he’d like to think it’s not that much. He’d like to think his reserved chair at the pub, his place next to the guv at every crime scene (right hand side), and even that nickname “Raymondo” are all well-deserved perks. The guv will never pat his detectives on the back and say “well done” so these social honours are the General Service Medals Ray hoards to indicate his worth.

The medals make him hope one day he'll be like the guv. Gene Hunt is the hero of Manchester. He’s a copper, not a soldier, but his guv fights battles out there on the streets just the same and like Ray’s father and grandfather Gene reeks of whiskey and honour.

But "one day" always seems too far away, especially on days when he fucks up.

Cause on days when he fucks up he’s not his guv’s best friend anymore. He’s treated to silence and scorn because the guv will never tell him how royally he’s messed up just like he’d never say how well he’d done. These are the demerits Ray collects.

The demerits remind him he’ll never be like Gene Hunt, no matter how desperately he wants to. But if he wasn’t Gene Hunt then he would just be Ray Carling, and nobody wants to be Ray Carling. That man doesn’t have any family, at least not anymore, he doesn’t have any friends except for that one div in the office, and he doesn’t even have a good story about turning some sorry bird down when she desperately wanted to marry him because he hasn’t been able to get a steady girlfriend for years.

He has to be Gene Hunt. So he talks a big game and lies to a couple of snouts hoping they give him the information he needs. Except the next day that snout shows up with a black eye and tells his guv everything. Gene scowls and Ray knows he’s fucked up. So he pushes a spindly twat about when he makes a pass at Gene until he “accidentally” falls out of a window. Except Gene looks disappointed and he knows he’s fucked up. So then Ray tries to solve a case on his own, a simple one, it shouldn’t have gotten that out of hand. He thinks Gene looks at him in restrained disgust. Ray drinks so heavily he wants to forget his own name.

It was getting better, he thought. Ray learned from his mistakes no matter how grave they were and he hadn't fucked up for a while. Their last DI had transferred 3 months back. He thought this could have been the chance he needed to make something better of himself. He promised himself he would try even harder if he made DI. He would never let Gene down. Maybe he'd even drink a little less.

Then Sam Tyler came.

It wouldn’t have been so bad if Sam was like Gene. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he was just better at being Gene than Ray but Sam was the complete opposite. He did everything to piss Gene off but some how his guv gave that man respect, gave him honour, gave him more tiny medals in a month than Ray had ever gotten in his time here.

He didn’t understand Sam and Ray knew he never could, but on some weird level Gene seemed to. It ate him up inside. Sam represented the true canyon between him and his guv. It reminded him of how disappointed he was in himself.

When Gene Hunt calls him Detective Sergeant Ray Carling it feels like a prison door being shut.

Mod Stuff - Prison Challenge

talkingtothesky — Tue, 24 May 2011 21:24:46 GMT

isaytoodlepip recently asked for fics with Sam undercover in a prison. You could take this bunny on or you could try a more metaphorical approach to the challenge, after all, ‘stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage’. Is Sam trapped in the prison of his own imagination? What if Gene had been sent down for murder?

Deadline for this challenge is the 7^th of June.

Mod Stuff - Poetry Prompt Challenge Closed

talkingtothesky — Tue, 24 May 2011 21:16:55 GMT

A huge thank you to everyone who participated in this challenge! All the entries can be found under the appropriate tag.

Poetry Prompt Challenge (2), by talkingtothesky

talkingtothesky — Thu, 19 May 2011 22:34:40 GMT

Title: Appraisal
Rating: White Cortina
Wordcount: 100
Notes: Inspired by the Larkin poem (...And don't have any kids yourself.)

When Sam asks Gene why he and the Missus never had children, Gene snorts. “Poor kid, with a copper for an old man. Would never see him. Was never an option. Why, you thinking of baking in Cartwright’s oven?”

Sam glares at him. “Her name is Annie. No, I’m not. Just curious.”

“You imagine you’ve earned the right to pry into my private life, then?”

“No, I was only thinking…you’d make a good dad.”

Gene shrugs. “Keep you lot in check, don’t I?”

“Exactly. And as long as you kept the swearing to a minimum, you’d make them feel safe.”

Poetry Prompt Challenge, by talkingtothesky

talkingtothesky — Thu, 19 May 2011 21:50:58 GMT

Title: Fallen Angel At Your Door
Rating: Green Cortina
Pairing: None
Wordcount: 100
Warnings: allusions to domestic abuse
Notes: Gene backstory. Inspired by the Larkin poem (They fuck you up, your mum and dad...)

Gene sat at the top of the stairs, shoulders tensed and feet planted firm on the step, ready to bolt should his father open the door and emerge from the bedroom. Gene was listening for the tell-tale sounds of slaps and muffled crying. He felt unwilling to leave his mother alone to face this every night, but also knew he couldn’t prevent what was happening to her. Protecting and damning in the same moment. No life for a seven year old, but Gene didn’t know that yet. Even if his mother never knew, he would stay there with her, vigilant.