but you've got the headstones all ready, all carved up and pretty

Boardwalk Empire Comment Ficathon

cloudytea — Fri, 16 Mar 2012 02:10:38 GMT

BOARDWALK EMPIRE COMMENT FICATHON
RULES:

No character/ship bashing!
Label fills at the beginning of the fic as TITLE - CHARACTERS/SHIPS - RATING
PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE link your finished fills in the first post.
Have fun!

Boardwalk Empire Ficathon

cloudytea — Tue, 14 Feb 2012 01:28:07 GMT

BOARDWALK EMPIRE COMMENT FICATHON

RULES:

No character/ship bashing! We never have a problem during ficathons, it'd be a shame to start now.
Kindly label your fills at the beginning of your post as TITLE - CHARACTERS/SHIPS - RATING
PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE link your finished fills in the first post.
Have fun!

cloudytea — Thu, 15 Dec 2011 22:50:47 GMT

Boardwalk Empire Comment Ficathon

fix-it fic, crazy au's, crackships, whatever. anything is welcome.
no character/ship bashing. i will hunt you down and put your butt on the commodore's wall.
post and fill as many prompts as you want - that's what this place is for.

Boardwalk Empire Comment Ficathon

cloudytea — Thu, 10 Nov 2011 20:42:17 GMT

The rules are simple!

No character/pairing bashing.
For every prompt you request, try to fill one.
When filling requests, your title format should be TITLE - SHIP (RATING)
Have fun!

HOLIDAY FIC REQUESTS 2011

cloudytea — Tue, 11 Oct 2011 19:20:02 GMT

Comment with: a day, a fandom, a pairing, and a prompt, and I will write at least 300 words for you, to be posted on the day you claimed. Any fandom you know I'm familiar with is fair game, though I reserve the right to ask for a different prompt if you pick something I don't feel comfortable writing, or a fandom I haven't been into in a long time.

December 1 -
December 2 -
December 3 -
December 4 -
December 5 -
December 6 -
December 7 -
December 8 - Richard/Odette, I don't have a wooden heart for screwydame
December 9 -
December 10 -
December 11 -
December 12 -
December 13 -
December 14 -
December 15 -
December 16 -
December 17 -
December 18 -
December 19 -
December 20 -
December 21 -
December 22 -
December 23 -
December 24 -
December 25 - (AR/)Meyer/Charlie, still in love with all your sins, where you stop then I’ll begin, and I'll be waiting for ratsteeth
December 26 -
December 27 -
December 28 -
December 29 -
December 30 -
December 31 -

Boardwalk Empire Comment Ficathon (Part Deux)

cloudytea — Mon, 03 Oct 2011 23:37:57 GMT

The rules are simple!

No character/pairing bashing.
For every prompt you request, try to fill one.
When filling requests, your title format should be TITLE - SHIP (RATING)
Have fun!

Boardwalk Empire Comment Ficathon

cloudytea — Wed, 14 Sep 2011 06:23:24 GMT

The rules are simple!

No character/pairing bashing.
For every prompt you request, try to fill one.
When filling requests, your title format should be TITLE - SHIP (RATING)
Have fun!

in the most peculiar way (margaret/richard, r)

cloudytea — Sat, 20 Aug 2011 17:18:24 GMT

in the most peculiar way
margaret/richard, r

It is the early afternoon and the sheets stick to them like a second skin.

She runs a slender finger through his hair, gently tracing the hairline and brushing back any loose strands. He can smell the lingering scent of perfume on her wrist, worn for a man who isn’t him. The pads of her fingertips press into his collarbone and move up, tracing the smooth curvature of the scar on his throat and he sucks in his breath, holds it -- and releases as her hand slips down underneath the covers.

Open-mouthed, their lips touch, though it’s not quite a kiss -- if anything, it’s just an excuse to feel, to touch, take in what they can while it’s still there. When her hips dig into his, she directs him, painting a picture when she herself is no artist. It has taken her awhile to realize what she wants -- every man she’s shared a bed with has only been concerned with what he could get out of her -- but not him. He learns her spots, her quirks, every little motion that gives off the very hint of a smile.

He’s seen her in her darkest moments -- manipulated, used, beaten down, and he swears (he swears -- his grip around her waist tightens) he would be different. He is second best, he knows it, but she takes the time to memorize his scars and what they mean, and that has to count for something.

Fingers tangled around his dog tags, she whispers, “He’s going to be home soon,” but he says nothing. The mangled part of his face rests on her abdomen -- she doesn’t mind (she never does) -- and his breathing subsides for a brief moment as he falls slips into the in-between of whatever they are and reality.

And for a while, they remain like this, a surreal construct that is both terrifying and familiar.

you got me this time, but i'll get you back (lucky/meyer, r)

cloudytea — Fri, 12 Aug 2011 01:04:40 GMT

you got me this time, but i'll get you back
lucky/meyer, r

“So you’re the new guy,” the smaller man puts out his hand, but Lucky doesn’t even look at him. “Prison, huh? Or, at least, that’s what the word on the street is.”

“Hands off, kid.”

“Heard you’re workin’ for Rothstein now.”

“What’s it to you?”

“Nothin’, just that we’ll probably be seeing more of each other.”

He’s still holding his hand out, unwavering. The taller man finally takes hold of it.

“Lucky.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Meyer.”

Lucky’s been around long enough to know the ins and outs of the business, but he’s still an amateur when it comes to saying pretty things for the sake of everyone's interests. His mouth gets him in trouble more times than not, and A.R. has him on a tight leash after his most recent pitfall.

“Should have just let it go, you know,” Meyer comments as they wait by the car, collars up to guard against the cold sleet.

“Yeah, but the prick had it comin’, talkin’ to A.R. like that.”

“Speakin’.”

“What?”

“It’s speakin’. Not talkin’. If you want anyone to take you seriously in this business, learn how to say things right.”

Opening his mouth out of rebuttal, Lucky looks over to find Meyer offering him a cigarette.

(Later, he’ll credit Arnold Rothstein for teaching him how to behave like a gentleman -- but it was Meyer Lansky who taught him the real language of respect.)

(It is November 5, 1928, and they meet in an empty billiard room)

“You heard?”

“About A.R.? Who the fuck hasn’t?”

“They know who did it?”

“He wouldn’t give up any names, they said.”

“Jesus Christ.”

A pause.

“How’ve you been keepin’, Lucky?”

They don’t talk about it, what happened when the booze ran out and the cigars were all smoked to stubs.

They blame it on shock, this thing that happened between them. They blame it on A.R. and his thirst for money, an appetite that led to gunshots in a smoky hotel room. They blame everyone but themselves, this blind waltz around the truth, but they are still sore in the morning, no matter what they tell themselves.

Lucky gets a phone call nearly a year later.

“You busy? Got some Series tickets.”

He doesn’t answer at first, but then --

“Let’s just not take a page out of A.R.’s book, alright?”

In ‘62, it’s Lansky who gets a phone call.

“Bring him back,” his voice cracks. “Kid hasn’t been home in years.”

(they bury him in Queens with honors to rival kings)

we suffer mornings most of all (margaret/richard, r)

cloudytea — Fri, 29 Jul 2011 03:42:28 GMT

we suffer mornings most of all
margaret/richard, r (boardwalk empire)

When he comes to stay with them, she’s unsure if it’s even necessary, this arrangement. Her mind skips every time she closes her eyes and sees the dead woman on the boardwalk and her new dress stained with her blood, but something about this rings strange with Margaret.

Still, she welcomes him into their home. Her son clings to her and stares up at this broken remnant of a man (a puzzle piece, she decides later), but she shakes him free and holds it out to the guest, and he hesitates before clasping it briefly.

His name is Richard —

“But Mr. Harrow will suffice,” Nucky corrects her later when the children are asleep and the house has died down.

His voice disguises a temper that seems to run in the short line of men she has loved.

What wakes her first is a slight shuffle next to her, and then, screams.

She is out of bed before Nucky even realizes what’s going on, but she ignores his calls as he pulls on a robe and follows her fleeting figure down the stairs. Scooping up her frantic daughter, Margaret coos sweet words as Nucky gives the man a look he doesn’t deserve.

She wants to say she’s sorry, but Nucky’s glare urges her into the kitchen.

“He’s a war hero, Margaret,” he says later over breakfast, glossing over his earlier reaction and making himself into the martyr of the hour.

“He frightens the children.”

But really, he frightens her. And it’s not the mask — it’s the very idea that this man has killed countless people and is being asked to relive it all over again, all because she needs the protection.

It is August and humidity haunts the house, lurks around corners, and sticks to the windows. She’s got their bags all packed and Teddy’s helping Emily with her shoes when there’s a knock at the door, a knock she’s been expecting, and yet a knock she’s also been hoping to avoid.

Margaret lets him in (this time) and his gaze catches the suitcases at the foot of the stairs, but he says nothing. She makes small talk: comments about the weather, about how busy Nucky’s been lately — doesn’t let off any sign that she’s done with this life and never wants to see this place again. Finally she hands him a box of items (a few pots, a whisk, and some other cookware) and gives him directions to a house across the way.

He nods wordlessly — they have never said much to each other, but she knows he’s no fool. She gingerly places her hand on Richard’s shoulder (he stiffens, she smiles) and breathes a warm thank you.

They are gone when he returns and he gives them time before calling Nucky.

She’s back now, back where she had never belonged in the first place, and the house welcomes her with closed blinds and locked doors. Dust paints the windowsills and the third step on the stairs creaks — she’s unsure if it’s a greeting or an omen.

She can hear the children dashing about from room to room, as if making sure everything was still where they had left it, and as she crosses the threshold of the master bedroom, a strange quiet blankets the house.

The mirror is still broken.

(the ground is cold and wet and he hasn’t tasted food that wasn’t stale in months. the sky is grey, always grey, and the men around him play with mildewed cards and write letters that’ll never reach home. suddenly, there are yells from commanding officers and gunshots ring out overhead. piercing cries surround him and the nearest soldier falls to the ground, clutching his abdomen, screaming and screaming and —)

“Are you alright?”

And he is brought back to the present.

She was standing in the doorway, but somehow she’s now by the sofa, where he had dozed off.

“Richard?” This is the first time she uses his name, and something catches in his throat. She repeats herself and places a slender hand on his shoulder, surrounded by a halo of concern.

“I’m fine.” He says this perhaps too abruptly and wants to apologize for it, but he just can’t find the right words. Hand lingering for just a moment longer, she gives him a nervous smile before disappearing back into the kitchen.

The first time he kisses her (or rather, she kisses him), it’s all very surreal, like a page out of Ulysses, or something by H.G. Wells. She supposes it’s an accident and their mouths don’t fit together quite right, disjointed in their attempt, but she finds herself pulling him up the stairs anyways, determined to finish what she started.

(it is the first time he’s with a girl and he doesn’t have to pay afterwards.)

When they make love (fucking is something else entirely — it takes a certain roughness to fuck, a roughness Richard reserves only for reloading guns for second shots), it’s slow and she can feel anxiety in his bones, even after they’ve settled into this routine.

He handles her like a piece of glass — careful enough not to break her due to carelessness, but wary enough to not get too close. His hands, skittish, finally find a place — one pulling up her thigh around his hip, and the other positioned just short of the headboard, steadying himself and allowing a comfortable rhythm for her.

She buries her face into the crook of his neck and smells the lingering scent of week-old pomade, and she likes it because it’s something new, something different. She’s never had a man with scars (she’s usually the one getting them) and it takes a while for her to grow used to the bullet grazes and the way his hands clutch to her like a godsend on the nights Nucky isn’t there.

She gets up when they finish (every time, no matter how much she doesn’t want to) and his hands linger on her waist for longer than she cares to admit. She washes him off of her in a haze, flinching at the touch of cold water. She’s grown used to it by now, this method of security she’s become too invested in.

When she returns, he’s gone and by the time she lays back down, she’s unsure if he was even there in the first place.

There is no morning after with them, not when there’s so much at stake.

In between these brief moments they are allowed, time is slow.

Sometimes, he’ll hand her something and his fingers linger on hers for just a moment longer, or pick up Teddy and carry him on his shoulders like he weighed nothing. It’s something Nucky wouldn’t do and for just a few minutes, the boy forgets he once had a father who would wander home drunk and never had a reason to touch them, save for leaving bruises.

These things, these little insignificant things, are the glue of what they are. There is no ring on her finger and he asks nothing of her, and yet he somehow fits.

And this, she decides, is enough.

Non-Canon Ficathon (Part Deux)

cloudytea — Fri, 22 Jul 2011 04:06:05 GMT

The Non-Canon Ficathon (Part Deux)

A few months back, I hosted a Non-Canon ficathon. It was so successful that I thought maybe a sequel is in order.

1. WHAT IS A NON-CANON SHIP? A non-canon ship is a romantic relationship that doesn't exist within the unfortunate boundaries of the given canon. Examples of these might include:

a. Characters who are friends, but no romantic relationship exists within canon.
b. Characters who are enemies, hence no romantic relationship would exist within the canon.
c. One-sided feelings that may or may not be acted upon; the important thing is that the other person rejects them if they know.

Don't let this list confine you! There are many more examples of non-canon relationships. As long as it doesn't exist within canon, then you're all set!

2. Just like any other ficathon you have participated in, the format is simple -- comment with a pairing and prompt.

3. When responding to a prompt, the title of the comment should be FANDOM - SHIP - TITLE (RATING)

4. For every prompt you fill, try to fill another prompt. I don't want to be a fic Nazi and you're not being forced to do so, but it would be nice.

5. NO BASHING. I think we can all put on our big girls and boys pants. If you don't like a ship/prompt, ignore it and be about your merry way.

6. If you have any questions/comments, I'll have a thread set up below to address any concerns you may have.

7. Have fun!

Guess Who's Joining? :D

cloudytea — Mon, 04 Jul 2011 04:38:43 GMT

tvrealm

A landcomm for all things TV. With 3 different teams: Chiller (Crime & Thriller), Dramedy (Comedy/Drama) & Supernatural (Sci-Fi & Fantasy).
It doesn't matter what team you're on, you'll get to work with any tv show you heart desires!

[ Apply Here ]

this ain't about money -- it's about revenge;

cloudytea — Thu, 30 Jun 2011 23:25:53 GMT

LOL NOT EVEN GONNA LIE, YOU CAN TELL I GIVE PREFERENCE TO MY OTP IN THIS POST. I DON EVEN CURR.

Thoughts on the Teaser:

Jimmy’s starting up his own bootlegging business.
And teaming up with the Commodore (a continuation of last season) to go up against Nucky.
And obviously Nucky catches on to his plans
Looks like Chalky’s gonna get more screen time -- and possibly enacting his revenge against the Klan?
Richard running through the woods? Hopefully to something and not from something.
More Capone, yay. And Van Alden. No comment.
And looks like Richard is gonna have more of a leadership role, at least in terms of Jimmy’s business.
A thought: since Chalky is on Nucky’s side (for now), what if the Commodore is funding the Klan’s weaponry? DNW.
And Van Alden at the hospital, waiting for Lucy to give birth to their offspring that resulted from a night of depressing sex.
And a series of gunshot featuring flashes of the characters Margaret, Van Alden, and Rothstein.

Things I Want To See:

Margaret getting more political, or at least going back to her roots and fighting for women’s rights. Their right to vote still doesn’t give them all the same rights as men unfortunately, and I hope she steps out of the housewife role that Nucky seems intent on keeping her in and really turns her potential into something feasible.
War flashbacks concerning Jimmy and Richard. We haven’t seen any flashbacks on the show, but perhaps using dreams, they can show us World War I through their eyes, as well as how Richard came to be how he is. Maybe it’d be a good way to open up Season 2 -- either having Jimmy trying to write Angela but keeps crossing out everything or just giving up completely because he’s so sure he’s not coming back, or Richard taking out that German sniper or moments before the right half of his face blown off, and then the dreamer waking up.
MOAR GUNS/SUITS/SMOKING

Theories:

Richard will continue working for Nucky as Margaret and the children’s bodyguard. I think this would be a good way for Jimmy to be able to still a window into the things most important to Nucky. It would be interesting if Jimmy decided not to divulge his plan to Richard until the last second, when he asks him to, say, (in so many words) show Nucky how losing someone feels like, and he can’t do it, because his connection to them is so strong. Actually, I think Richard making his own conscious decision on his own terms would be great, instead of following Jimmy’s every action.
Also, I don’t think the opening of Season 2 will be having Jimmy completely against Nucky. He knows it’ll take a while for him to gain strength and followers, so he will at least act like he’s still working for him.
I think Margaret will start making her own decisions and will start gaining power. I’m hoping that by the end of the season, she’ll make a conscious decision that doesn’t involve financial security as her means by staying with Nucky.
Since a few of the characters, such as Margaret, Richard, and Van Alden were technically not real people, the writers have a lot of free reign concerning their paths in the show.
For example, we know that Nucky Johnson marries a dancer and serves four years in prison, but Nucky Thompson might be given a different fate (changing his surname certainly gives the writers a lot of freedom, but they must be careful where they tread and not give him too much credit as far as political and historical advances go) -- though being written by the same people as The Sopranos, I can easily surmise that a happily ever after just isn’t in the cards for everyone.

Concerning Deaths In S2

Maybe:

The Commodore. He's old as hell anyways. I dunno. I just don't see him living for very long.
Van Alden. But then again, who would be the show's antagonist?

Most Definitely Not:

Richard. They would be idiots killing off a character like him -- I can’t tell you how many reviews I’ve read where they’ve named him the best and most interesting character of the first season. That, and you don’t make someone a series regular and then just go and kill them off. That would be…Ugh. Yeah, it’s not gonna happen guys, trust me.
Margaret. Probably the only mouthpiece of sanity on the show, I can tell you killing off the female character (and love interest and moral compass) would probably also kill off a large fraction of the audience.
Nucky. What would you kill of the main character? Same as Jimmy, I think the audience needs someone to relate to.

GUYS, I WROTE THIS IN LIKE HALF AN HOUR WHEN MY INTERNET WASN'T WORKING LAST NIGHT, SO PLEASE BE MINDFUL OF CANONICAL ERRORS AND YEAH. GIVE ME YOUR THOUGHTS.

i can hear the sound of your laugh through the wall;

cloudytea — Sat, 18 Jun 2011 22:37:59 GMT

Top 5 Crack Pairings

Juliet/Man In Black (Lost)
Giulia/Micheletto (The Borgias)
Margaret/Richard (Boardwalk Empire)
Cindy Chandler/Lennon (Lost)
Alice Morgan/Mark North (Luther)

Top 5 3 Most Difficult Characters To Write

Juliet Burke
Giulia Farnese
Anyone in Greek mythology.

Top 5 Eras To Write (Or Read)

Renaissance Italy
16th Century England
18th Century Austria-Hungary/France
Edwardian England
Roaring Twenties

Top 5 6 Songs I Can Listen To Over And Over

Bluebells by Patrick Wolf
In The Fall by Future Islands
Astronaut by Amanda Palmer
Siren Song by Bat For Lashes
Paradise Circus by Massive Attack
Cosmic Love by Florence + The Machine

Top 5 4 (Literary) Characters And Why

Jane Eyre; Shy and bookish, Jane seems to be one of the last people you'd want to look up to -- but as her story progresses, she grows into a confident, witty young woman who doesn't lose sight of what's important to her, even if it means leaving the person she loves the most.
Anne Elliot; Not one of Austen's most popular heroines, but Persuasion is my favorite novel, and how could I pass her up? A victim of her circumstances, Anne soon realizes it's her, not her family, that should be the ruler of her destiny.
Éowyn of Rohan; Honestly, how could I not include her? Arguably one of the most well-known female icons in modern literature, she is one of Tolkien's very few female characters within the trilogy with substance. Throughout the story, she overcomes so much and truly becomes her own person.
Elinor Dashwood; Next to Persuasion, Sense And Sensibility is another Austen favorite of mine. Elinor is the archetypal older sister who is the very glue that keeps her family from splitting apart after the sudden death of her father and the arrival of her half-brother to claim the fortune that is, by law, his. A pillar of strength, she comforts her younger sister through heartbreak and her mother through embarrassment as they face both economic and emotional obstacles.

So. I've been watching shows -- lots of shows -- and I have so many feelings.

1. The Borgias; the costumes, the characters, the drama! I love all of it. I've bought tons of books on the family as soon as Season One ended and they never get boring.

Favorite Characters: Giulia, Lucrezia,Cesare, and Micheletto.
OTP: Giulia/Micheletto.

2. Luther; while I'm not a fan of procedural shows, this one is amazing. It's unlike anything I've ever watched -- everyone has flaws, the writing is superb, the scenery unmatched. Ruth Wilson as Alice is both eerie and entertaining -- she deserves all the awards.

Favorite Characters: I LOVE EVERYONE ON THIS SHOW.
OTP: Alice/Mark.

3. Downton Abbey; my mom's been pressuring me to watch it for weeks, and once I finally got around to it, I couldn't stop watching. While I'm not a big fan of Mary, the entire downstairs staff was what made me keep watching. Anna/Bates, while very subtle, is everything I ever want in an OTP. I love them and I'm hoping for more in Season 2.

Favorite Characters: Entire downstairs staff, Maggie Smith, Sybil, and Hugh Bonneville. (too lazy to look up names)
OTP: Anna/Bates and Sybil/Branson.

4. Boardwalk Empire; while Season 1 aired last fall, my parents watched every episode without fail. Being without anything else to watch (having finished all of the above shows) I decided to give this one a go -- and I will never regret that decision. Empire was everything and more -- three-dimensional characters, a beautiful script, and fast-paced action.

Favorite Characters: Margaret, Gillian, Richard, Al Capone, and Van Alden (don't lie, the actor is eerily perfect.)
OTP: Margaret/Richard.

And finally -- I need to get my muse back. Hence, this meme:

Leave me a prompt, a pairing and a fandom and I will write you a three line fic.

we've got our guns and horses;

cloudytea — Sun, 29 May 2011 02:18:29 GMT

Summer is here! And I miss being busy. Three months is way too long for college students to be out. Unless they are actually doing something. Like traveling. Which I'm not. Bleh.

I'm unsure how I'll cope with the absence of The Borgias -- but at least it'll be back in 2012 and filming starts in July, I believe. I want to watch Downton Abbey. My mom watched the entire first season in one day and loved it. That, and WW1 isn't an era I'm too proficient in, so that should prove interesting.

Speaking of The Borgias, I think everyone should just know that my OTP is a strange one and I don't care. Giulia/Micheletto. Everything is ginger and nothing hurts oh my god. Don't lie. You know they would make an excellent scheming couple who would have afternoon tea in the garden with their best-friends-who-are-also-incestuous-lovers.

#LOL NEGL I WAS PRAYING THAT MAYBE GIULIA WASN’T GONNA BE RELEASED FROM THE FRENCH ARMY AND IN THE END IT WOULD BE JUST HER AND CESARE AND MICHELETTO, WANDERING THE ITALIAN COUNTRYSIDE, LOOKING FOR STRIPPERS AND COCAINE

Good lord, I need to write them. Badly.

At the moment, I'm rearranging my room and trying to decide what to keep or donate. For those who don't know, I'm finally being allowed to move into the dorms this coming semester -- until recently, my parents have made it painfully clear that my driving an hour everyday to class was much safer than living among my peers. And now, I'm going into my final year of undergrad study and they've finally gotten it through their skulls that maybe I can handle it. I'll be finding out who my roommate is in the next week or two -- that poor, wretched soul -- and hopefully we can get together on facebook and decide who is bringing what.

I need to splurge and buy a ton of paperbacks online. I want to read the rest of Kurt Vonnegut's stuff. Slaughterhouse-Five is in my top five favorite books of all time, and it'd be a shame to ignore the rest of his work.

And as usual, I'm snagging this from the wonderful corleones, who seems to be the source of my memes lately.

Ask me my fannish Top Five [whatevers]. Any top fives. Doesn't matter what, really! And I will answer them all in a new post.

Fic Meme, Hooray!

cloudytea — Tue, 17 May 2011 00:19:29 GMT

Snagged from corleones ;

Leave me a prompt, a pairing and a fandom and I will write you a three line fic.

Fake TV Show Meme

cloudytea — Thu, 05 May 2011 19:43:58 GMT

Snagging from corleones <3

1. Comment to this post with "I surrender!" and I'll assign you the basis of some TV show idea. (post-apocalyptic scifi-fi drama, fantasy, noir gumshoe pulp, criminal procedure...IN SPACE, historical drama WITH WEREWOLVES, etc.).
2. Create a cast of characters, including the actors who'd play them.
3. Add in any actor photos, character bios, and show synopsis that you want.
4. Post to your own journal.

pieces of glass, chandelier baubles, & empty bottles of wine

cloudytea — Sun, 24 Apr 2011 00:46:06 GMT

Snagged from marketchippie

THE MAKEOUT MEME: Pick a pairing from any fandom/rpf, and come up with a location and/or situation, and I will write you between 50 and 250 words about the kiss that happened in that context.

didn't want to be anyone's ghost (guinevere/lancelot, pg-13)

cloudytea — Sat, 23 Apr 2011 00:31:47 GMT

didn't want to be anyone's ghost
guinevere/lancelot, pg-13

I know that lady_blackwell requested Camelot, but since Lancelot was not yet a character on the show, I decided to take the traditional route -- though, I think this could be considered Camelot 'verse if you squint.

His hands are cold against her skin, calloused and corrupt with a disease he can’t sweat out.

(he knows they had no business there, scouting out a landscape that would never belong to him)

“He will never know,” Guinevere whispers against his jawline as her fingers tangle their way through his hair. “Never.”

Her words taste like promises, but they later prove faulty: there is no such thing as never, not when you’re a queen whose legs are locked around knightly provinces. Loyalty has never rung true in their minds -- no, instead it has always reminded them of the way things should have been, of the way their treachery only creates wars on king and country and everything they were indebted to.

They are smoked out like rats from their dens, trialed before the kingdom like treasonous dogs, put on display for all to gawk at.

(he runs, she burns -- it was set in stone from the very beginning)

we tend to bruise easily; a cesare/lucrezia mix

cloudytea — Wed, 20 Apr 2011 03:14:31 GMT

WE TEND TO BRUISE EASILY | a cesare/lucrezia mix

runs in the family | amanda palmer
but business is business and business runs in the family,
we tend to bruise easily, mad in the blood

siren song | bat for lashes
and i'll love you the best way i know how,
my blonde curls slice through your heart

two years before the mast | astronautalis
so we paid our keep for the sin of a reckless dream,
in a seam where secrets sleep between me, her, the devil, and the deep blue sea

augustine | patrick wolf
as i hold you to my bed, like a cancer, or a curse
be my loving nurse as we fall back into the impossible dream

crank resolutions | mersault
if i'd known that you'd been waiting in the street for me all day
and they carried you, they carried you away

we were sparkling | my brightest diamond
that's where we'd go to hang our pretty things and watch the wind blow [...]
i'm afraid to forget you, i am remembering you

ZIP

you made like a fool but you're still mine (persephone/hades, pg-13)

cloudytea — Tue, 19 Apr 2011 19:49:30 GMT

you made like a fool but you're still mine

persephone/hades, pg-13

She exchanges kisses with a serving boy from one of the temples. Teeth older than the stone pillar they lean against bite into his bottom lip, (draws blood and stains the tip of her tongue like a fine wine from her uncle’s vineyards) tasting mortality for her own and holding it in like some coveted prize -- this wondrous thing.

Athena makes sure he’s dead by morning and she still has Demeter to answer to before the first toll of the breakfast bells.

"Do not betray me, daughter."

She sees him for the first time during her first visit to Mount Olympus: a man of angles and precision -- of everything nature goes against. Gaunt face and sunken eyes accompany this lord of endings, both tragic and inevitable. The cries of the dead are ringing in his ears like a pulse, never stopping even for a moment’s rest, but the scent of fields and herbs is still fresh on her, and she revives him (momentarily) from the drowning that comes with the territory.

He can barely make out Demeter's words, but really, he doesn't have to.

"My daughter, Persephone."

It isn’t long before he realizes what he must do.

He must.

The words of his yearning are aflame in his throat -- burning, blazing, blistering like a river of fire -- and he cannot say them, not yet.

Zeus is the one to suggest abduction.

"If you want her, then take her.”

He rejects the idea -- at first.

("do not be afraid," he says to her in the poppy field)

She screams -- Gods, how she screams -- and her voice soon becomes cracked, her eyes heavy. She rejects food and only the smallest sips of water sustain her. She becomes bony, haggard -- a ghost of the girl he plotted to steal away, a grand gesture of his devotion.

Regret begins to surge through his veins and perhaps, he thinks, this was all a monumental mistake.

“It’s all for the best, you know.”

He says this to her, but really, he’s only trying to justify his crimes to himself.

“Farewell, Hades.”

He did not have to ask twice.

(and she can still taste the sweet pomegranate on her tongue)

It is eight months later, and she returns.

(do not betray me, daughter)

The words of her mother still follow her, even in the asylum of his bed.

"You cannot sleep?"

He is awake -- he is always awake. His hand reaches up and braces against the soft curve of her spine, and this time --

She welcomes it.

Four months are a whirlwind of colors, sights, sounds -- she grows enamored by this place of the past and its dwellers, but the bells soon toll for Spring's coming and she grows wary.

"Do not keep your mother waiting."

Her hands are not cold, not anymore, and green eyes resonate her promise to the lands above. Her mouth rests on his jawline, breath warm with anticipation. Her kiss is something novel to him, still, and he savors the taste of its youthful ecstasy.

"Farewell, husband."

Taking fic requests!

cloudytea — Wed, 13 Apr 2011 20:46:00 GMT

Fandoms: Greek Mythology, Jane Eyre, Jane Austen, Camelot. Maybe Shakespeare. Depends.

Characters/Pairings + Prompt

I don't want to promise a definite length on these -- one might be a drabble, one might be 500 words long. It just depends.

louder than sirens (artemis/ares, pg)

cloudytea — Wed, 13 Apr 2011 05:09:59 GMT

louder than sirens
artemis/ares, pg

( fueled on bloodlust and battle games )

i'd have been the shadow of your shadow (athena/hephaestus, pg-13)

cloudytea — Sun, 10 Apr 2011 02:33:16 GMT

i'd have been the shadow of your shadow
athena/hephaestus, pg-13 (greek myth)

The hall is alive with song and drinking games and the occasional toast to eternal dominion. A wedding celebration between a nymph and one of Zeus’s mortal sons was being celebrated. Blessings of well-being and fortune rung out across the hall, accompanied by verses of love recited from the lips of Love herself.

“You would know, Aphrodite,” came a voice from Zeus’s right. “After all, who else sneaks into a different mortal man’s bed every night?”

A few laughs echo across the hall and the Goddess smirks into her drink, not allowing the comment to affect her. “I find that rather brash, coming from a virgin, sister. You wouldn’t know love if it appeared before you fully-armored and ready for battle.”

A silence drapes over the gathering. Heads turn, all conversation ceases -- the discord between the two is widely known, even among Mortals. Not many had the will to cross Zeus’s favorite daughter -- victory was forever in her favor, it seemed.

Athena smiles. “No, but I suppose you would? I do recall Ares is rather fond of war games. And other games of a less than savory nature.”

Aphrodite is silent now, eyes narrowing at her sister. The wedding ring on her finger burns into her skin, a dead weight she carries -- the gift of a man she could never love. And everyone knew: she married him for riches, not for romance. That, she could find elsewhere.

Athena continues.

“Loveless, perhaps, but I’ve fair Judgment on my side -- somehow I think I’ll manage.”

Dionysus laughs cautiously. “This wine loosens even the mightiest of tongues, it seems.” He puts a hand on Athena’s shoulder and continues. “Let us not dwell on our faults.”

The music starts again, conversation returns to normal, and Athena holds Aphrodite’s gaze for a few moments longer -- this savage game of theirs will never end.

It is late and Athena leans against one of the great pillars on the veranda, eyes scanning the earth below. The merriment has ceased, save for the few who linger to get a final taste of Dionysus’s treasury of wine.

Suddenly, a noise from behind --

Cane at his side, Hephaestus limps forward, his tall frame stooping over like a man many years older than he appeared.

“Hephaestus,” she greets him with a nod.

“I wish to apologize.”

She looks at him. He presses on.

“For Aphrodite.”

Athena shakes her head and laughs. “You are her husband, not her nursemaid. I don’t expect you to be held responsible for anything she does.” She returns her attention to the view. “After all, it was you I was defending.”

Athena always hated Aphrodite’s promiscuity -- even more so now that she was married.

“All the same. She has no right to question your virtue.”

Virtue.

He wanted to marry her. She was his first choice. His only choice. But Zeus was intent on keeping his favorite daughter chaste -- and he was granted the Goddess of Love instead. An unjust deal: she made a cuckold out of him and the other Gods saw him as pitiful and weak -- but not Athena. Perhaps it was her natural astuteness, perhaps it was something that came with growing up around the deception that seemed to plague this court, but she never looked upon him with superiority.

“Think nothing of it,” she says at last, turning towards him. “I’ve heard it all before. And I should be the one to apologize -- my words were the words of a drunken harpy.” She smiles one last time. Walking past him, she presses her glass into his hand. It is full, red wine filled to the brim, no lip prints.

He smiles.

Athena does not drink.

stumbles lonely for the arms of the wild (athena/hephaestus, pg-13)

cloudytea — Fri, 08 Apr 2011 05:08:35 GMT

stumbles lonely for the arms of the wild
athena/hephaestus, pg-13 (greek myth)

In the beginning, there is a temple.

The faithful flock there like sheep, the high priests their shepherds.

Bronze statues are raised in their names.

“A waste of resources,” she comments bitterly, arms folded as they look down on the merriment.

He laughs -- a rarity.

There’s a festival now, to celebrate a union gone wrong -- her virgin blood boils at the misinterpretation.

He apologizes, still.

“A silly old story,” she rebuffs.

And the parades continue.

One by one, they each disappear. Some hand-in-hand, others alone with silence their only companion.

This world is not for them anymore.

Most take the easy way out and surrender their godliness. Mortality was a romantic path, after all did it not produce the likes of Odysseus, Theseus, and Hector?

“I was not given eternal life only to renounce it,” she chastises the departed.

He stays.

They meet like this, every couple hundred of years, perhaps to justify their loneliness. In this brave new world where higher beings are not feared, where they can no longer live off the sustenance of homage and veneer -- they are impossibly alone.

She sips her coffee, careful not to crack the porcelain. His cane leans against the table separating them and his long fingers caress the polished wood, and he chooses his words carefully.

“And you are well?”

Her laugh is something novel and slices through the city street like a volley of arrows piercing into his chest, leaving behind in its wake a piercing wound of memory.

“Have we ever been well, Hephaestus?”

“Aphrodite be damned --” he whispers into her ear after a few drinks. “You were always the beautiful one.”

He motions for another whiskey, but she waves it away and pulls him up with her.

“Still can’t handle your liquor, I see.”

He smiles. “Just as you cannot handle the truth.”

She kisses him -- finally.

And in the end, their temple still stands.