http://brotherlyunion.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
brotherlyunion.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
adddictions2010-04-30 10:33 pm
brotherlyunion.livejournal.com) wrote in adddictions2010-04-30 10:33 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
the|alternate|universe|meme
ONE. list your characters (journal names optional).
TWO. others reply with one of those characters or a pairing for you to write; platonic or romantic is up to you.
THREE. pick five cliché AUs from this list (complete with explanations!), and write something of any length - a sentence, a paragraph, a drabble, or a full-length ficlet, if you'd prefer - for each of those five AUs, involving that character or pairing.
no subject
please
one. [supernatural] HOLY CRAP 1/2 i am sorry for how long this one got
But then, Arthur thought to himself, scowling, when had he ever not been? He'd certainly not been in complete control of the situation when he'd taken a wrong turn and ended up wandering, hopelessly lost and defenceless, in the Faerie Realm; nor when he'd been forced to make a pact with the first one of the True Fae who'd come across him. And how stupid had that been? The fact that he couldn't have physically survived otherwise aside, everyone knew that you never, ever made a deal with the Fair Folk, because while they were bound by their word, they knew every loophole and exploited them all. Even when he was finally making his escape from the other side he barely knew what he was doing, and after that... well. He was practically half-fae, now, changed by the magic of that world and barely hanging onto control of his powers, and worst of all, he had no allies.
So being pursued by one of the most famous (or should that be infamous?) supernatural assassins was just the icing on the fucking cake, really. Shelly de Killer was well-known among those who bothered to pay attention to the magic that existed right on the doorstep of their safe, comfortable, "normal" lives as the most skilled at his profession; there were even rumours that he had managed to take out six True Fae single-handedly. He was a perfectionist, a professional, and completely ruthless.
And also about six feet behind Arthur. Arthur, who could barely hold together the glamour that gave the illusion of his human form to save his life, let alone defend himself against an assassin who was used to dealing with full-blood, high-powered fae.
A half-breed like Arthur would be child's play for this man. And - fuck, he'd been running from the True Fae, from humans, for too long, and he was tired. So bloody tired and he wished to a God that he knew didn't exist that he'd just stayed inside the day he'd got lost inside that forest.
And then he tripped, and sprawled flat on his face. Cursing himself for a prat, he pushed himself up, ready to run --
And found the immaculately-shined shoes of de Killer in front of him. He looked up, shaking from a combination of fear and exhaustion, and waited for the inevitable killing blow. Because he was fucking cornered now, wasn't he? Despite everything, even breaking out from bloody Arcadia itself, it had still come down to this. Fucking bollocks.
Only the blow never came. The assassin stood there, both his crossbow and a sword that must have been made from cold iron just from how jittery it made Arthur's stomach to even look at it in his hands, and looked down at him with a look that spoke of nothing more than a polite, mild curiosity. Was he being toyed with?
"Go on, then," he spat. If he was going to die, then he wasn't going to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing him break down or beg. Not even the True Fae had got that from him. "If you're going to murder me with cold iron, you might as well get it over and done with already!"
The assassin shook his head. "The people of the nearby town are being terrorised by an exceptionally dangerous fae." He gave Arthur a shrewd, piercing look. "I mean you no offence, sir, but you are not my target."
"Not your --?!" Arthur was speechless. "But - bloody hell, why go to all that trouble to chase me?" His voice was subdued; he didn't even have the energy to get angry anymore. God, what was wrong with him?
The assassin gave a short, stiff, bow. "My apologies. I had thought that you may be one of the creature's lackeys. But on further inspection, there is no way that that could be the case. You can barely even construct a glamour." He indicated the fraying edges of the aforementioned glamour; Arthur looked down and could see patches of green skin where it had failed.
"But you hunt supernatural creatures," he said, unable to keep the accusatory tone out of his voice. The assassin raised one elegant eyebrow.
"Only those that are my targets, or who happen to be threatening harm if I come across them. You are neither."
one. [supernatural] 2/2 many apologies for getting so carried away SOB ._.
De Killer nodded. "What else would you have me do?" For a moment, Arthur considered it. Really, what else could he do? The man had let him go; he got to live instead of meeting a painful end on a sharp blade. But on the other hand, he had nowhere to go; no purpose, no safe place. The True Fae were still hunting him - they never gave anything up if they could help it, never never never, and he --
He was stuck. But maybe, he thought as an idea occurred to him, that could change.
"I could work for you."
For the first time, the assassin looked surprised. He even blinked, and his monocle popped out as he did so. "I'm sorry?"
"Let me work for you," Arthur insisted, stronger now. "I despise the True Fae just as much as you must do, and I'd have more of a chance against them if I was with you. Besides, I - " he hesitated for a moment, but pressed on " - I've been on the other side, I know how the Fae work, how to close up all their loopholes. And I owe you, anyway. For sparing my life."
There was a beat. Then, the assassin knelt down, staring into Arthur's eyes. The temptation to blink was incredible, but he didn't; just stared stonily back at him. The man's forehead creased in confusion.
"Well, you don't appear to be anything but sincere. Are you quite sure?"
"More sure than I've been of anything in a while."
The assassin paused. Then he nodded. "Very well. But you should know that I take deals just as seriously as the Fae that I kill. If you cross me, then I can assure you, sir, you will not live to do it twice." He stood, and offered the half-fae a gloved hand. "What is your name?"
Cautiously, hardly daring to believe that this wasn't all some sort of trick (because deals and contracts were always tricks, always, there was always a loophole being exploited), Arthur took the hand being offered to him.
"It's Arthur."
two. [high school]
Quite possibly the most mysterious thing about him, though, was the way that roughly half the student body had an embarrassing crush on their English professor.
Including one Arthur Kirkland, recently reformed teenage delinquent.
Arthur himself thought that the situation was completely ridiculous and incredibly unfair. He shouldn't be having some ridiculous crush on someone who was at least two and a half times his age - let alone a teacher. That was just a whole new level of low, not to mention incredibly cliched.
All the logic in the world couldn't quite stop him staring in class when his mind wandered, though. And that - that was just embarrassing. Especially when he was called on to answer a question and it took someone throwing a paper plane at the back of his neck to make him realise it.
At least, he'd tell himself desperately every time this happened as he turned bright red, tried to salvage his dignity and not pummel whoever it was who had thrown the plane in the first place, he'd probably grow out of it once he got out of puberty.
Bloody hell, he hated hormones.
Re: two. [high school]