ficathon: what the id wants

[clockwork_hart1]

listen, i'm going in to hospital in exactly a month for some very serious surgery and I need something to occupy my thoughts, so I'm doing this. for myself. for you all.

<center><a href="http://clockwork-hart1.livejournal.com/"><img src="http://i.imgur.com/4PbN8zE.jpg"></a> what the id wants ficathon<br>[click on the picture]</center>
^^promote

...so what the hell is this all about?

Well! This is for all those fics you've always wanted to read (or write) but just never found. Maybe the fandom is obscure or it never fit the theme of other ficathons. Maybe it's about a minor character no one loves like you do. Maybe you only thought about it a minute ago. What I'm saying is, the theme here is anything goes. Indulge yourself.

Prompt that space opera au. Give someone the dark fae inspired prose-poem about Blair Waldorf they've always dreamed of. Go nuts! also since faking it got cancelled im very sadface about things so you should prompt me that

rules! (shamelessly stolen from fluffyfrolicker, slightly adapted)

1. all fandoms/characters/whatevers are up for grabs
2. prompt as many things as you want, but make a separate comment for each prompt. the more, the better.
3. when you make a fill, please leave a comment here (link, title, warnings, fandom, prompt)
4. feedback is ambrosia, but you knew that
5. anonymous posting is a-okay for now but if there's anything upsetting that goes on - trolling, homophobia, transphobia, racism etc. - they will be screened or switched off. I will flag anything questionable and delete it. this WILL be enforced
6. tell all your friends + dont let this die on me + have FUN

This should last until the 1st July, and when we have (hopefully) a nice bunch of fics I'll post a masterlist.

Comments

pt.1 (aka this got really long)

[lynzie914.livejournal.com]

I hope this is something like what your id wanted.


my church offers no absolution


There are legends, texts, essays, things that say that humans were made in the image of their creators. Of the gods. That they were made and shaped into something new, something with their gods’ image ingrained in them. They may have freewill (sometimes, sometimes the fates did not allow such illusions) but they always belonged to the gods always, were connected to them always.

Dawn was different. Different then all those who came before her. She began as a god and she was changed and changed. Layers and layers placed around her. Spinning and twirling around until eventually she was in the shape of a human girl.

Brown hair and blue eyes and legs that stretched and stretched.

And a memory of a life that was never to be. A life that never happened and happened all at once. She was wrapped in layers of light and green and energy and blood and memories and human skin.

She was a girl.

She was a god.

And someday there would be no telling those apart.


--


Dawn is thirteen and helping cut vegetables and the knife slips. Blood spills out.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

It’s bright red against the white cutting board. And Dawn couldn’t look away from it.

There was just something. Something meaningful. Something in the back of her head, scratching away. Something that wouldn’t stop.

She could not tear her eyes away from it.

Not until her mother noticed as she quickly wrapped Dawn up in her arms and began fussing over her. Taking her to the kitchen sink to help wash the blood away.

Somewhere behind them Buffy will roll her eyes at the attention of a few drops of blood and it will become ironic in the future. It will become meaningful and poignant and Dawn will remember it, as though she had seen it from above. When the Dawn in the room never looked back.


--


(“You can’t do this.” She yells and she holds onto her sister tighter. But other hands are there. So many hands all wanting to take what is hers away.

They will pay for it.

They will die.

“It is necessary.”

“I will tear out your tongue for this. And you will watch as I eat it. That is what will be necessary.”

She is torn away. Torn away from her sister. Torn away from the other half of her. Torn, torn, torn. And she wants to tear back.

She will tear back.

She bears her teeth at those around her.

“Chaos and Destruction cannot coexist together. Not here.” Her brother says.

He says it as though he knows anything at all.

He knows nothing. )