anythingbutgrey | war stories ficathon

Entry tags:

war stories ficathon

War Stories: A Comment Ficathon

Welcome to the war stories ficathon. Some quick guidelines:

What can I prompt and how do I do so?

Basically whatever you want, as long as there's a core component of a war story therein. Can be pre-, post-, or intra-war as long as it is, at its core, about the war. I'm pretty general with my concept of fictional conflicts, so if you've got a battle or a zombie apocalypse or a revolution, you're good to go. That means you can take a fandom that has a canonical war (like, say, Harry Potter) or you can take a fandom that doesn't have a war (like, say, New Girl) and plop them into a Hunger Games war AU or a zombie apocalypse. Have fun with it. I'm grim about my war stories but you don't have to be.

Prompts should contain the following format:

Fandom (not optional, can be multi-fandom or crossover) - Characters/Ship (optional) - Timeline (optional) - Prompt (which may be a plot, song lyric, quote, etc., but is not optional)

In other words, you can leave a character and/or a ship, and/or a timeline, which are optional, and a prompt, which is not. If you want, you can just leave a set of song lyrics and see what people do with them. If you want, you can just leave a timeline with those lyrics, or a just a character, or all three.

How do I respond?

There are no restrictions in terms of word count, format, tense, point of view, etc. Please title all of your response fics as such in bold at the top of your comment (make sure to close the bold tag!) since LJ took out comment titles because they're dumb:

Title - Character/Ship - Timeline

Presumably, your fics will contain these three things even if they weren't in the prompt. You can also fill prompts that have already been filled. If something speaks to you, as it were, it doesn't matter if there's already fic for it. You can write your own.

How do I promote?

Here's a tumblr post (gen image if you have no idea who Mako Mori is in which case go see Pacific Rim ASAP and thank me later)

Promotion link with image:

Other banners:

More incoming

Text link:

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Generation kill/pacific rim/zombies/adommy....anybody? Bueller...bueller...???
K I tried...:)

Puella Magi Madoka Magica, Homura, I must go on standing, you can't break that which isn't yours//I must go on standing, I'm not my own, it's not my choice

Any (preferably Hunger Games or Harry Potter), any, when the next war comes (because it will)

when the next war comes (because it will)

There is nothing but fear and concern and worry; tension threads in her shoulders and flinching silently at too loud noises and ever-increasing wards on the house (the houses). They are settled into the world, have jobs and cats and go drinking on a Friday night. They dress up in smart robes, and suits, and pretend not to have runes embedded in their skin, their minds, their eyes. Claim to have dealt with it, moved on, come to terms with what I did and the Ministry's hastily dragged in and undertrained (and doomed to die because they have no wards, and their wand is in a desk drawer, and Hermione wants to draw them a map of all the ways they are dooming themselves) psychologist signs them off with a flourish and sends them back to work.

They meet in secret, one night every month. Never in the same place and never at the same time, and never with everyone. There are secrets in their secrets. Collaborate, share information, try to make sure that the sides will be defined if nothing else. No one is sure where this war will come from, who will be at each other's throats this time, but they know it will happen. Look at the children on the platform skipping off to school and think of every horror that the castle holds, and feel their stomachs roil and rebel. Clamp down on the wand-hand twitch and wave to younger cousins, send them off to a place that never protected anyone. Not really. The letters say that they've dealt with the security hazards, that all of the hidden dungeons and tunnels have been investigated, and Pansy laughs, long and hard and harsh because the greatest threat was never the animals or the ghouls, but the darkness and horror in the hearts of wizards and witches.

There are public information campaigns. "We're all the same", "we bleed, we breathe, we laugh", "The Ministry is here to help you!" and they work on them. Write blase press releases, pretend there is something good at the core of the world and fight in abandoned rooms and warehouses and practice Muggle martial arts because maybe this war will be fought with tooth and blood and claw and not magic and isolation. Maybe they will have to defend themselves with their bones and their breath and no one ever taught them that. They watch the Quidditch and pretend that Ginny hasn't taught her team defensive drills disguised as set pieces. Pretend that these wouldn't be effective against an army from the skies and that they are cheering the Seeker. Neville's greenhouse is charming and quiet and Muggle tourists come and tour the grounds of his house, and Luna keeps the animals at bay. This war will be fought on all fronts and if a Venus flytrap can eat a fly then they can breed a plant that will eat a witch. "Don't walk on the grass" reads the sign, and no Muggle can. One did, last year, and there was grim satisfaction that the plan had worked at least. The wards were changed after that.

You can't let go of awareness at the root of your spine, too aware of small spaces, people with their hands in their sleeves, a cold hard look behind the eyes and you can't get out of the habit of looking round the corner before going forward, keeping a defensive spell at the tip of your tongue and a knife in your boot. Left, right, left, right and keep your eyes on the prize: life. The next war will come, and you will be ready, and there is nothing left to do but wait and stay ready.

Edited 2013-07-22 12:30 (UTC)

(no subject)

butiamhome.livejournal.com - 2013-07-22 20:25 (UTC) - Expand

Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles, Jesse (+ optional Derek and/or Riley, shippy or gen), "Life is essentially a chess game. You have to plan and calculate and. I am so lonely."

Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles, Riley/Jesse, The human heart is a beating muscle// We evolved to build bone cages around,// what kind of person// keeps that on their sleeve?

Tortall, Keladry of Mindelan (+ optional Ilane, her mom), "When I was just a little girl, I asked my mummy what should I be? "Fuck 'should'," she said."

The Avengers, Clint/Natasha, I keep my worst scars hidden (kissing each other's scars or explaining scars to each other, ugh just anything about scars.)

The Charioteer - Ralph Lanyon - Rum, sodomy and the lash

The Charioteer - Ralph Lanyon - Ralph just remembered the end of the Great War.

percy jackson and the olympians, percy/luke;
There’s a niche in his chest
where a heart would fit perfectly
and he thinks if he could just maneuver one into place –
well then, game over.

PJO + Richard Siken?? yesyesyes!

(no subject)

nyogu.livejournal.com - 2013-07-22 16:29 (UTC) - Expand

The Hunger Games, Katniss/Gale, Pacific Rim AU, here in the woods we move as two parts of the same being

Edited 2013-07-22 15:44 (UTC)

ELYSSA.

(no subject)

anythingbutgrey.livejournal.com - 2013-07-23 01:25 (UTC) - Expand

THG, Katniss/Gale, Cold War Spies AU,

Tell the truth, no lies
I can take it
Bend your breath, just this once
Run your mouth
I bet I can catch it

Archie, Betty/Reggie zombie apocalypse,

We are the last people standing
At the end of the night
We are the greatest pretenders
In the cold morning light

the painful love of being permanently unhoused 1/2 (archie comics, betty/reggie)

When the dead rise, no one really believes it.

This is Riverdale, true; strange things happen here all the time, almost as if they live inside the pages of a comic book. But zombies? Those are truly for the realm of fiction. Betty has loved stories all her life but she's never made the mistake of believing that they could be real. Except, as it turns out, that wouldn't have been a mistake.

The gang tries to stick together at first. Archie, Betty, Veronica, Jughead, Reggie, Kevin, Moose, Midge, Chuck, Nancy: they find each other first, as they always do, as they have always done. They hole up inside Pop Tate's and pray.

Moose goes first. He leaves that first morning to try to find others--they think he's the best bet to fight back--but he doesn't come back. Midge is inconsolable. Betty holds her friend's fragile body, suddenly so small, in her arms, rocking Midge as she sobs.

There is silence in the town for two days. And then they come again, swarming the diner. Moose is the one bashing the door down, his huge fists smashing glass as if he can't even feel it anymore. They try to flee out the back door, but there are a couple zombies waiting there too--Mr. Weatherbee, Mrs. Beazly; two of the first. (They'll find out later that the virus was transmitted through tainted food. Too late for Jughead, who took it upon himself to finish all of Pop Tate's food that wasn't in the freezers. Too late for Pop Tate, who will never flip another burger.)

By the time they make it to the Lodge mansion, there are only Betty, Reggie, and Nancy. The others were caught on the way. Most of Riverdale was: there are only a couple dozen people waiting at the mansion. When Mr. Lodge finds out what happened to his daughter, he gives himself up.

It's selfish, Betty thinks. Not to die for the sake of another, no, but to leave others behind. If they are to survive they need everyone; now Mr. Lodge is gone to join the enemy, now Mrs. Lodge sits crying in the living room. You can hear the faint echoes of her sobbing throughout the quiet house. She gets paler and smaller by the day. No one knows how to talk to her, so they don't. They are all on edge, all constantly watching the windows, holding the guns they found in the basement like they used to hold holy books.

Betty and Reggie spend a lot of time together. They have to. They are all the other has left.

"I wonder if there's anyone left in Riverdale," Betty says, gazing out a window into the cold morning light. It's the thirtieth day. She knows the answer but she asks the question anyway. She's thinking about her parents; she's hoping they survived somehow.

"You mean Zombiedale," says Reggie.

Before Betty can stop herself, a laugh bubbles up. As she gasps, she reaches out; her hand finds Reggie's almost as if by accident.

He holds tight to her fingers. He does not let go.

On the fortieth day, they kiss for the first time. It's not an accident; it's not settling for second-best. It's careful and measured and they touch each other like their bodies might break apart at any moment.

They are the last people on earth and for once Betty isn't thinking about everyone they've lost. For once they are thinking only of each other.

Reggie holds her the same way he's been holding a gun: as a weapon, as hope, as something that is too strong to break and too weak to survive a war. When Betty runs her fingers along his jaw, he shudders. Their breath comes too fast.

"You're not a replacement for Ronnie," he says in the moment after that first shared breath. "I'm not a replacement for Archie."

"No," she says, and she kisses him again, hungry for his warmth.

(no subject)

yon_lougawou.livejournal.com - 2013-07-23 01:24 (UTC) - Expand

supernatural, castiel, the war in heaven, if not by faith then by the sword

potter - harry/hermione - little soldier little insect you know war it has no heart
it will kill you in the sunshine or happily in the dark
where kindness is a card game or a bent up cigarette
In the trenches in the hard rain with a bullet and a bet

boy with a broken soul, heart with a gaping hole

It's like this: you open your mouth, and you breathe in ash. You were born in a state of war, in a torn house, and you tell yourself that that should have made you resistant, better, at least, but it hasn't. You're still weak, a little boy with a scarred forehead and hands that reach for nothing. You are so pitiful it makes you want to run, shed the burden. You're like a snail, you realize: you wear your house on your back, your burden is your house, and you can't lose it no matter how fast you run.

One night you dreamt you were lightning; it was one of the nights you weren't a stag instead, your hooves drumming on the rain-soft soil. You struck, hard like diamond, and everything around you bent, and the shavings of your bolts dotted the inky sky with stars. The forest fills you with strange, heady dreams but when you wake up sweating there is a body besides you. You don't question it. She holds you until you stop shivering, doesn't tell you what a mess you are, what a poor savior you make.

In a way you're grateful that wizards do not seem to know Jesus, because if they did they would disqualify you from the messiah race in a blink. Hermione laughs when you say that, still dazed from sleep. In the forest it's hard to say what time it is. Ron is still gone but she's here and every morning you expect to see her gone too, the embers from the fire still red and her footsteps leading out. But she doesn't leave.

You count your blessings.

Over time you realize that no kindness is equal to hers. You still feel unsure, sometimes, that she will stay by your side; but when you tell her that she punches your arm and says, "Of course," suddenly fierce, her mouth a tight and beautiful line across her face. Your nights quiet down, and the pain dulls to an insistent ache: instead of the fire-hot pole in your stomach it's only the dull edge of a blade ransacking your insides.

She reads by the fire, frowning a little, her nose wrinkled to keep her glasses up. Her hair is messy but she still smiles and she never complains, and sometimes you think that she ought to be in your place, ought to be the one saving the world because then the world would have a chance. You don't tell her that. You wouldn't wish your fate on anyone.

Ron loved her, you knew that, you've always known that because he's always loved her. But you realize that you love her too, and when this hits you you shirk from it guiltily. You remember Ginny's face when you told her you were going away and she was stoic and brave and you didn't love her. But this girl you love, you love like survival, like breathing, and it's a betrayal to so many things you don't understand how it can feel so evident. She tells you to stop dreaming and think, Harry, think. She tells you you will win this war, no matter what happens, no matter who dies.

She gives you your hope, but sometimes you wonder who gives her hers.

She knows you so entirely and believes in you with such unflinching faith that it seems doubtful she would not know you love her, but she doesn't say and so you don't say either. Are there even words to say? I love you would be feeble and devoid of truth; you can't imagine saying to her the words worn down by thousands of tongues to express something so entirely new. So you don't say, you let it grow inside you like the plants you used to let Neville tell you about, the ones that are this deep, verdant green, whose flowers bloom only after exposition to the soft springtime sun. You try to remember what color they were, but the war took color from you, among other things.

Still, you do not give up, because this is what it is - love for her is color, companionship, flowers and the ability to breathe underwater. For her you feel like you can take one more step and even win this godforsaken war. (The truth is this: you will not win this war out of selflessness. If you do win it, you will win it for someone, because you are little and selfish and weak. You are not David. The stones you throw do not kill giants.)

(no subject)

theviolonist.livejournal.com - 2013-07-22 22:28 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

sunny-serenity.livejournal.com - 2013-07-23 17:40 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

disheveledcurls.livejournal.com - 2013-07-24 23:06 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

chll51.livejournal.com - 2013-09-02 06:58 (UTC) - Expand

pacific rim - mako mori/gipsy danger/raleigh becket - make ash and leave the dust behind
lady diamond in the sky wild light glowing bright
to guide me when i fall on tragedy

a song of ice and fire/game of thrones - sansa stark - dig up her bones but leave the soul alone
let her find a way to a better place
broken dreams and silent screams
empty churches with soulless curses
we found a way to escape the day

pacific rim (post war) - mako mori/raleigh becket - and the power's out in the heart of man
take it from your heart put in your hand
what's the plan? what's the plan?

(deleted comment)

(no subject)

downjune.livejournal.com - 2013-07-30 16:49 (UTC) - Expand

harry potter, ron/hermione, and now it's slipping through my fingers

potter - neville/ginny & luna - i went out to pick a fight with anyone
light a candle for the kids
jesus christ don't keep it hid

I'm upset about this prompt

Thor, Loki/Sif, I tried so hard to let you go, but some kind of madness is swallowing me whole (aka it's hard to win the war when you're in love with the enemy)

Animorphs, Jake/Tobias, post-war: No way of knowing what any man will do//An ocean of violence between me and you

Pacific Rim, Mako/Raleigh (or gen), shared dreams (see this lexicon entry (http://travisbeacham.tumblr.com/post/56005082876/pacific-rim-lexicon-entry-1-ghost-drifting))

star trek: deep space nine | kira/cretak, post-"inter arma enim silent leges" | my heart's too silent, my voice too loud

harry potter | narcissa/lily | We were watching an exploding sun/Counting sparkles until they were gone

I hate you. Just so we're clear.

Page 5 of 8