anythingbutgrey: (bsg; we are all going forward)
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The Could Have Beens: An AU Comment Ficathon



Welcome to The Could Have Beens, a comment ficathon for AU fic. Fairly straightforward, but some quick guidelines:

1. Prompting: Prompts should be formatted along the lines of

Fandom/Character(s)/Ship (any or all of the above), AU setting or plot, prompt of some other sort if you'd like, such as a lyric or a quote

For example,

Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Faith, She doesn't leave LA

or

Being Human, George is a vampire, my blood is thin with aspirin, i throw you in, i throw you in

Or something like that.

2. Fills: Fills should have the fandom, characters/ships, title, and any relevant spoilers at the top in bold. You can also add things such as ratings and timelines (ie post-series, etc.) if you'd like. For example, if I filled the Faith prompt:

BtVS, Faith, while jesus is saving

3. Promoting: You can use this code to promote with the banner, or just link to the ficathon itself if you just want a text link. I'll be making more banners a bit later today if you don't want to use the one above (it's a bit boring, I know), I just have to attempt to finish my French homework first.



Any other questions, leave them in the questions/comments thread below. Other than that, have fun!
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Date: 2012-03-25 02:57 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] anythingbutgrey.livejournal.com
Questions? Comments?

Date: 2012-03-25 03:19 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] toiltrouble.livejournal.com
okay for any fandom to take part?

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Date: 2012-03-25 03:08 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] anythingbutgrey.livejournal.com
Battlestar Galactica, Kara/Lee, no pigeoning,
Now the sun's gone to lay, I can lust towards space
I'll transcend into blues, fade out from the ground greys
Edited Date: 2012-03-25 03:09 pm (UTC)

Date: 2012-03-25 03:11 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] ohliberte.livejournal.com
i was just about to leave the same prompt

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Date: 2012-03-25 03:11 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] anythingbutgrey.livejournal.com
Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, She tells him, "This war is about my body too, you know. My blood. You can be so selfish, Harry."

Date: 2012-03-25 03:18 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] clearbluewater3.livejournal.com
rude.
no but seriously, this needs to be written.

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Date: 2012-03-25 03:14 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] omniasol.livejournal.com
The Hunger Games, Rue/Thresh (non-romantic), final two instead of Katniss/Peeta

Date: 2012-03-25 03:15 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] omniasol.livejournal.com
wow i really need some more userpics

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Date: 2012-03-25 03:16 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] shellpearls.livejournal.com
Gale/Katniss - but we do live here. Mortal Engines AU. Gale as part of the pro-Traction city builders.

(Mortal Engines is apparently known as The Hungry City chronicles in the USA, excellent)

Date: 2012-03-28 01:16 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] asuname.livejournal.com
Oh God Yes. I didn't know anyone had read this series! Someone please write this!

Date: 2012-03-25 03:18 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] toiltrouble.livejournal.com
Being Human, Nina doesn't die, post Mitchell's death, not all of us have the luxury of being a martyr. some of us need to get on with living

Date: 2012-03-25 03:18 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] youlooksick.livejournal.com
gossip girl, dan/blair, 1920s bootleggers

then wear the gold hat if that will move her

Date: 2012-03-25 04:30 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] corleones.livejournal.com
Gossip Girl, Dan/Blair: Lover, Gold Hatted



She is the one with the gun and the gold and the sea of people waiting behind her.

He only carry the cases, waits for the click of her fingers.

-

On the night of her engagement party, he finds her in her bedroom, wearing only a dressing gown, putting on her pearls in front of the mirror. The whole room smells like perfume, smells like lipstick, smell like Blair.

"Going to give up the trade now that you're marrying a prince, then?" he asks, lighting a cigaru ette. Earlier, she would have forbidden him from smoking in here. Earlier, there were more boundaries between them.

"That's a rather stupid question," she scoffs, walking over to him. The folds of her robe part as she leans over for a light. He can see the smooth pale curves of her beneath, the shape of Blair filling out the fabric. His mouth goes dry as the lighter burns. "I don't do this for the money, you know," she tells him.

"You don't do anything," he corrects. "You just give the orders. I do - "

She cuts him off with a wave of her hand. "That doesn't matter, Humphrey. Point is, I'm not in this business for the money. If I wanted that, I'd have married Bass."

"Why didn't you marry Bass?"

Blair exhales. Her mouth leaves a clear stain of red around the filter. "That's neither here nor there."

And then:

"What people need, I like to provide." Her head tips to one side. "What do you need, Dan?"

She tastes like whiskey and smoke when he kisses her.

-

At the beginning:

She had been looking for someone to lift the boxes, to book empty hotel rooms to stash liquor in. Someone who knew the city well enough, someone people trusted just enough. She was looking, she admitted, for a man. ("They don't trust a woman around these parts," she had said, rolled her eyes.)

Dan had been looking for a place to forget Los Angeles and movie scripts and Serena's face black and white on the screens.

"Who'd have ever thought I'd be an alliance with Dan Humphrey?" she'd murmured, pouring him a drink.

"To business," they'd chimed, lifting champagne.

-

Usually, he meets her in rooms where money passes between their hands, her clothes coming off in the early hour meetings of hotel rooms and abandoned offices. He comes to her in a stranger bed, with scratches on his face and his hands, watches her undress in the yellow light. He watches her face go pink underneath him, the colour rising under the deathly pale powder, watches her eyes ghost over as she comes, the release of breath from her bitten mouth. He watches her stash notes into her garter, the cunning grin as she puts her earring back in place, adjusts her clothes. He watches her straighten her stockings, expertly hiding tears, watches her kiss the prince softly on either cheek, swanning about beaming ballrooms.

Always, he finds he is watching her.

-

For another life, he writes out another ending:

The girl breaks it off with the prince. They put away their money, their bathtub gin, their ever-growing list of contacts in the little black book, they steal a boat and sail to the ends of the earth. They make love on islands and mountain tops. They are married in languages that neither of them speak. In the ending he writes, they escape.

Instead, she kisses his cheek, presses one gloved hand in his.

"It's been good doing business with you," she says, warmly. Goodbye

Half written manuscripts litter the floor of his bedroom. The typewriter groans on that morning. Blair goes to Paris for her honeymoon.

(Within the month, he writes, they will resume.)
Edited Date: 2012-03-25 04:31 pm (UTC)

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Date: 2012-03-25 03:22 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dracaryss.livejournal.com
the hunger games, katniss, she is a mentor for the quarter quell

Date: 2012-04-02 09:55 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] gryphonsegg.livejournal.com
Sorry this is late. I had to work out a suitably awful thing for the Capitol to do instead of making the past Victors compete again.

Cinna dresses her in black for all public appearances. The tears she cried when Peeta removed his tourniquet and bled to death in her arms were sincere enough to seal the devotion of their fans forever. Haymitch and Cinna believe her public image and fan demographics can protect her from being sold to less sensitive “admirers” like some other Victors. Katniss made her victory tour with a wardrobe of two dozen subtly different, beautifully tailored, long, black dresses and a single piece of jewelry. Wearing the same black dress she rode home in last year, the grieving widow of seventeen helps her mentor climb onto the stage on Reaping Day.

Katniss and Haymitch take their places behind Effie, who wears a new aquamarine wig for the occasion. Effie’s duties are slightly different this year. Tributes for the Third Quarter Quell will not be selected at random. Instead, the Peacekeepers assigned to each district have been instructed to choose the Tributes as they see fit. For up to fifteen minutes after each choice is announced, a relative of the Tribute may redeem the selected child by agreeing to become the lifelong servant of the Peacekeepers. The ranking officer for the district may accept or reject the offer. If the offer is accepted, the process must be repeated until two Tributes are brought forward who have no relatives whose services are desired. The intended lesson for the people of the districts is that safety can be assured only through absolute submission to the Capitol and its representatives. Katniss and her mother have kept Prim confined to their house in the Victors’ Village since the theme for the Quarter Quell was announced, hoping against all probability that the Peacekeepers will forget she exists.

Effie replays the video of President Snow’s announcement and calls for a round of applause for Cray as he takes the stage. The people of District 12 force themselves to clap, but Katniss can see hate and terror in many faces in the crowd. She recognizes several girls who have traded their bodies to Cray in exchange for food to keep their little sisters and brothers from starving. They look more terrified than anyone.

Cray makes a speech about how hard selecting the Tributes has been on him. “Sacrifices must be made . . . taken all responsibility upon myself to spare my subordinates . . . burdens of command . . . only youths who set a dangerous example of non-cooperation with duly appointed authority . . .”

“I’m gon’ be sick,” Haymitch whispers. Horrified, Effie shrinks away from him.

Not Prim, Katniss hopes desperately. She fears that President Snow may have sent orders to choose siblings and children of previous Victors. She regrets not striking out into the wilderness with Gale right after her victory tour. She can’t let the Capitol take Prim.

The bottom drops out of Katniss’s gut when Cray says “Delly Cartwright.” A bewildered buzz makes its way through the crowd. Delly, a bad influence and a dangerous example of non-cooperation? How? No one could be more cooperative or helpful or eager to look for the best in everyone! Several older girls are crying, and not just the fair-haired merchants’ daughters from Delly’s neighborhood. The buzz develops an angry edge as rumors and suspicions spread.

Oblivious, Effie beckons Delly to the stage. Delly is paralyzed with shock, so two of Cray’s men drag her. Mr. Cartwright weeps and begs to trade his freedom for Delly. Cray rejects him. Delly’s mother steps forward, but Mr. Cartwright gives her a pleading look and shakes his head. She starts screaming, and four Peacekeepers carry her away. Effie tries to cajole Delly into saying something to the crowd, but Delly is too stunned to speak.

Katniss hugs her and vows, “I’m gon’ take care of you.”

“How sweet!” Effie squeals. “Do you know each other already?”

Date: 2012-03-25 03:24 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] muneca-brava.livejournal.com
Angel, Welsey/Lilah, the rogue demon hunter never joins Angel Investigations

Date: 2012-03-25 03:24 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] enparis.livejournal.com
doctor who; amy pond; she woke up in the spacesuit, instead of being pregnant; all around the world was waking, i never could go back, 'cause all the walls of dreaming, they were torn right open

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Date: 2012-03-25 03:27 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] muneca-brava.livejournal.com
Luther, John/Alice, he goes with her, of travel I've had my share, man, I've been everywhere (aka ROAD TRIP)

Date: 2012-03-26 12:25 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] chimneysmoke.livejournal.com
I adore thisssss.

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Date: 2012-03-25 03:28 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mind-conundrum.livejournal.com
the hunger games, cato/clove, they win instead of peeta/katniss

you get scared when we're alone, like i'm gonna suck your blood

Date: 2012-03-26 02:25 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] miotasachsaol.livejournal.com
oh wow i may have to write this

so many clove/cato feelings, so little time

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Date: 2012-03-25 03:29 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dracaryss.livejournal.com
a song of ice and fire, arya/gendry, “i have a son, you have a daughter, we’ll join our houses”

Date: 2012-03-25 03:30 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] poppypickle.livejournal.com
Gossip Girl, Dan/Blair, Never loved you much as I could miss you

Date: 2012-03-25 03:30 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mind-conundrum.livejournal.com
asoiaf, theon/robb, robb returns to winterfell and meets reek (no red wedding)

Date: 2012-03-25 03:31 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] poppypickle.livejournal.com
Hunger Games, Gale/Katniss

There's a corner of your heart just for me.
I will pack my bags just to stay in the corner of your heart.
Just to stay in the corner of your heart.

Date: 2012-03-25 03:32 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] clearbluewater3.livejournal.com
Harry Potter, Ginny/Neville, during dh they start a relationship and stay together
and we're standing side by side/ we found love in a hopeless place.

Date: 2012-03-25 03:36 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] enparis.livejournal.com
skins; mini & franky; before morocco, mini admits her feelings; when you hold me still, my heart weights a ton, trying not to get greedy that’s not easily done

Date: 2012-03-25 06:47 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] youlooksick.livejournal.com
be still my heart

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Date: 2012-03-25 03:37 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] marketchippie.livejournal.com
Upstairs Downstairs, Persie never left Germany and Hallam has a head!Persie

Date: 2012-03-25 03:39 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] marketchippie.livejournal.com
The Trojan War, Golden Age of Hollywood

Date: 2012-03-25 06:41 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] postcardmystery.livejournal.com
not a town for muses, the trojan war



She's a star, and this is how it starts. It is, of course, also how it ends.




"No, I ain't doin' it," says Achilles, and Odysseus grins, says in his distinctive Yorkshire vowels, "Yeah, that's what I said, mate. Yer ain't sayin' no to him, not in this town. His town."

"It's only his town 'cause he says it is," says Achilles, and Odysseus laughs at that, says, "Still his girl, though, he says that, too."

"I don't fight for him," says Achilles, and Odysseus straps his shoulder holster on, shrugs, says, "Yer fight for the man payin' yer. Don't get ideas."

"You got nothin' but ideas," says Achilles, and Odysseus puts his trilby on, says, "Yeah, well, don't mean yer should try it. Paris is a dead man, and he'll die whether or not we're the ones pullin' the trigger. Yer want t'get paid?"

"No," says Achilles, crossing his arms, and Odysseus grins again, says, "Aye, I forgot. S'about the glory with you, innit? Yer'll have to get through his brother, first, did I mention that?"




She's been on a thousand thousand screens, the face everybody knows, her voice rarely heard, like the silver of little shining bells. Her hair is long and redgold, her mouth always curved in a smile that is almost knowing. But it's the eyes, you see. Violet and sly and you feel-- well. You're sitting at the pictures, a hundred other people in the room, but they're looking at you. Only at you.

They call her the Face. But this, this part you already know.




"Daddy says she can stay," says Paris, and Hector sighs. Paris was supposed to be a lot of things, but supposed to and Paris are old friends. Hector did his duty, joined the army, made general, did his duty, married the woman he loved, did his duty and would do it twice over and once more again if he had to, if his Daddy asked.

"This will help you make senator, will it?" says Hector, and Paris laughs. Paris always laughs. They have a villa in Hollywood Hills, all the money they can wish for and more, and Daddy's the governor. Paris always laughs, because Paris doesn't understand power.

"Daddy doesn't own LA, brother," says Hector, the words not quite tripping off his tongue. The other brothers. LA means Hollywood and Hollywood means pictures, and pictures, they always mean them. Paris doesn't understand power. The Mycenaeans understand power. They understand it exactly.




Sometimes freedom looks like an apple, and sometimes it looks like a ship. For Helen of Sparta Productions it looked like a 1939 LaSalle Cadillac with a beautiful fool at the wheel. Her face was powder-perfect, her furs were high at her throat.

Freedom looks like a lot of things, but it also ain't for good.




War is a fact of life in Hollywood, because in a town this new and this sundrenched there are always going to be wars. Prohibition was a war, the Gold Rush, too. Pictures are more war than they are anything else, and that's why you have easy men with gunmetal beneath their coats. That's why you always have a driver, why you always have a gun, and you always make sure you marry her-- but you never have a joint checking account. Pictures are war, and Paris will have a war whether he wants one or not.




"Kill him," says Thetis, her blue-grey hair piled high, diamonds at her throat, "you were made for this rodeo, darlin'. Kill that bastard of a king and rule in his place."

"Oh, if fuckin' only," says Achilles, and kisses his mother's hand until his trigger finger stops itching.




His trigger finger gets use in time. He was the fastest draw in Texas, and California's not bettered him yet.

(Hector? Please. Sword becomes rifle becomes a Colt .45, but only one man was ever going to win this shoot-out.)




"I hope it was worth it," says Andromache, and Helen answers merely with one of her famous smiles.




Perhaps "war" was the wrong word. War suggests both sides have an equal chance of winning. Thetis should have known better; known better than anyone.

Those whom the gods love, well, ain't it been told: they die young.

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Date: 2012-03-25 03:43 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mileya.livejournal.com
Fringe, amber!Lincoln/amber!Olivia. They met once, a long time ago. It just took them a while to remember (aka Lincoln also was a cortexikid at some point)

Date: 2012-03-26 02:47 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] outragedy.livejournal.com
oh, i love this.

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Date: 2012-03-25 03:45 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] enparis.livejournal.com
misfits; alisha; she was the masked fighter; we can hear the first beat to the flat line, i’m keeping up, keeping up with the time lapse lifeline

Date: 2013-01-26 06:18 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] disneyfiraga.livejournal.com
I'd love if this were filled.

Date: 2012-03-25 03:47 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] bloodofpyke.livejournal.com
harry potter; hermione granger; she breaks once, and he's the only one to see

Date: 2012-03-25 07:18 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] youlooksick.livejournal.com
hold me; i am not myself

She feels small, and impossibly young. Hermione wipes the blood from the corners of her mouth, looks at her hands. There are sweat stains on the pillowcase, the sheets have dried brown in some places. The room is filling her lungs, pushing out through her skull, her knuckles, the hard and bony parts of her.

Harry offers her his wrist. How, she begs whatever deities are left, how did it ever come to this?



They are sitting in the restaurant towards the back, right next to the window where the greasy kitchen leaks into the air, wet with noise. Hermione leans forward, her hands on the table's edge. Harry's wrists are bandaged, and he keeps them in his lap, hidden from her view even though she knows they are there, knows that the gauze is yellowing, knows that he has stopped bleeding but that the scabs will stain for days. She feels his wounds pulsing in her own temples.

"We're running out of time," she says, and he nods.

He holds up a pair of train tickets, sets them onto the table between them like an offering. In some way, that is exactly what they are.

The waitress comes over, first speaks in a dialect they don't understand, and then tries English when they shake their heads.

Outside, the snow is beginning to fall on the fjords.



A house on the edge of a frozen lake. Hermione stands in the doorway, watches an animal, dark and small, crossing the ice.

Harry yells from inside to close the door, and she realizes that it must be freezing for him. If she could still blush, she would, from mortification, from shame, from the quiet feelings of care that well up in her throat every time she looks into his face.

"I'm sorry," she says, sits down in the kitchen with him. "I forgot."

"S'alright." He's peeling an apple. She watches the skin loop across his hand and over his wrist, a scarlet ribbon.

"This is going to be it, isn't it? Waiting, running, waiting again?"

Harry says nothing. She could make another house from these silences.



She doesn't sleep. She cannot sleep. That is impossible for a number of reasons, but there is some quiet comfort in watching him beside her, curled up like a child. He snores sometimes, and she runs her fingers over his cheekbones, traces the line of his brow. It will be like this for a time, she thinks, and then no more. Then she will be alone, and he will either be somewhere she cannot reach him, or in her veins, giving breath to her run.



"I want you to do it." Harry is throwing a stone in the stream, trying to skip them. Hermione looks up from her book, stands up on the rock she has made into her perch.

"Harry, you don't have to - "

"You'll be stronger without me. Or, you know, with me. In that way."

"I never asked for this to happen. I never asked you to do this, either."

"I know."

She bites her lip. If there was still blood in her veins, her lip would have turned white from the pressure. But instead her lip is always a cool violet, and her eyes are the only part of her that has not dulled from the cold.

Some day she will take him. Some day she will not stop at his wrist, she will not be careful to only make a shallow incision, to lick until she is full. Some day she will press her teeth to his mouth and taste the blood beneath the skin, so close to the surface. She will open his jugular with the knife he carries in his back pocket, cleaned on one side, and she will take him with her wherever she goes next.

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Date: 2012-03-25 03:51 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] marketchippie.livejournal.com
The Basic Eight, Flan/Natasha, Natasha is a Cylon

Date: 2012-03-25 05:22 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] hyacinthian.livejournal.com
OH MY GOD

OH MY GOD

OH MY GOD

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