the island of misfit prompts.

[thanksalotforthememe]

(thank you dyslexic for giving us this beauty)

Because sometimes you can't decide what meme to post to and you'd rather choose from a bunch of random prompts instead.



1. You're trapped in a McDonald's. It's only a matter of time until the McNuggets run out or the McFlurry machine breaks …
2. You're trapped in an elevator and it's like that M. Night Shamawhatever movie so the devil is haunting you in it and you're probably going to die.
3. You're trapped in one of those giant meat freezers and slowly freezing to death with the other person in the thread. Will you huddle together for warmth like Seth Green in that one move?
4. tfln. Every good random prompt meme needs tfln.
5. mpreg. See above. Aliens? Genetic mutations? That breeding stable meme redux? It happened, and now you've got to get your shit together.
6. You have a big secret to tell the other person and now is your only chance. You're probably on your deathbed idk.
7. You woke up naked in a hotel room with the other person and no clue how you got there. This is some The Hangover-type shit.
8. Kinky times. Because every random meme needs a smut prompt, too. Get your 50 Shades of Grey on.
9. Body horror. You and/or person b are mutating into a zombie/robot/vampire/furry/cthulu/etc. and it's freaky as hell.
10. Disney time. You and person b are now acting out the Disney movie of your choice.
11. Roadtrip! One car, one … cup?
12. Ghost, Patrick Swayze style. You or person b is a ghost, and now you're trying to communicate with them from the other side. (NO POTTERY.)
13. Human centipede. I'll leave this one up for interpretation.
14. Mr. and Mrs. Smith. You and person b are both keeping huge secrets from each other, but one of you is getting ~~suspicious~~!
15. High school AU. What it says on the tin.
16. ZOMBIES!!!!!! Were you bitten? Are you hiding out in a shack somewhere in the middle of a post-apocalyptic wasteland?
17. A raccoon is trapped in the house and now you and person b have to figure out how the fuck to kill it.
18. You're dying a slow tragic death so you better get those last words the fuck out.
19. You're possessed by a ghost/demon/yeerk/whatever the fuck. Fight for dominance or … don't, no one actually gives a shit.
20. You're connected by a red string of fate to the other person and you follow it and find them and hook up?

Comments

[laceratings]

[ vincent watches his brother's face with attentive curiosity, trying to read his expression, to find what lurks beneath his golden eyes but sometimes.. sometimes gil goes to a place that even vincent cannot follow, where the darkness pervades, and obscures. when he falls into these black moods vincent can only guess at why, and generally he is correct, but sometimes he is not, sometimes gilbert buries himself away in it and cannot be broken free.

he hates it. gilbert being out of reach is a thing he cannot abide, it's enough to make his chest tighten with panic, with the urge to grab, to grasp to keep. gilbert is his anchor in life, the point at which everything converges, his single,absolute reason for living. ]

.. I could have.

[ breathe. vincent sits back in his seat, drops his hands into his lap, his eyes still fixed on gilbert's face. ]

But I would rather be here, with you.

[chainedraven]

[For several heartbeats there is no response, almost as though Gilbert hadn't heard, or perhaps dozed off in his seat. Silently he turns those words over in his mind, examining the tone, the content, everything about them, wondering if some meaning lies behind him that he doesn't understand. There is so much that he does not, after all, especially when it comes to Vincent and the family and history he doesn't remember.

Finally his eyes open just a crack, just enough to let him see his brother's expression— though as soon as he notices that Vincent is watching him so intently he shifts, glancing toward the window uncomfortably.]

...why?

[What is it about him that interests Vincent so? He simply doesn't understand, and that only adds to his unease.]

[laceratings]

[ why..

as if it isn't incredibly obvious, as if it isn't so, so simple. simple enough that vincent does not need to lie about it, does not even need to embellish. it is the one and only pure feeling that he has ever known in his life. ]

Why?

[ how can he possibly ask why; it all but makes his heart ache to hear. vincent's expression evens out, his expression strangely tranquil, almost sad, though his smile remains fixed. ]

.. because you are my brother, and I love you. Why else?

[chainedraven]

[The words are entirely logical, certainly. It's the kind of thing that one might expect brother to say to brother, and yet— somehow Gilbert didn't expect such a thing of Vincent. Not Vincent, not toward him. There's no reason for him to be considered important in anyone's eyes, much less his so-popular and talented brother. There is nothing about his company that could be of interest, especially when he's in as foul a mood as he knows himself to be today of all days.

The simple sincerity in the tone of the statement, however, convinces him outright that it must be true, that there is no lie in what Vincent says. Instantly ashamed, regretting the impulse that made him question his brother's motives, Gilbert grimaces and closes his eyes again, somehow managing to slouch even more in his seat. Once again, he can do nothing right, no matter how he tries.]

...ah.

[laceratings]

[ somewhere deep within him it stings to know that gilbert feels this way, to know that gilbert could ever, possibly think that vincent could want to be near him for any reason other than that he loves him but he cannot blame him, he cannot ever blame him.

vincent is not worth trusting. he is not worth loving. he knows it, he knows it entirely, profoundly. he accepts it. he is too filthy, too worthless, too damaged, beyond repair..

a beat, and vincent is rising to his feet, taking the two steps it takes to cross to the other side of the car before he's dropping lightly down beside gilbert, threading his arms around his brother's again, leaning his blond head into his shoulder. he thinks to say something, but opts for silence instead, and hugs gilbert's arm close to his chest. clinging to him will not work, it will never work, and yet.. ]

[chainedraven]

[He hears the rustle of fabric first, then the swift steps that bring Vincent closer, and automatically Gilbert tenses before he can even feel the touch. As soon as his brother leans into him, though, he exhales slowly and forces himself to try to relax. He doesn't understand, perhaps will never understand, but this much he feels he owes as a sort of penance and an apology he can never speak for his doubt.

Still, he cannot imagine why Vincent would feel as he claims (as he must, for it is difficult to doubt him now, though given some time Gilbert's doubts will no doubt return once more). What could he have possibly done to earn anyone's loyalty, much less admiration or love?]

[laceratings]

[ what indeed, gilbert..

vincent knows, of course, vincent has always known, though he is disinclined to say. gilbert does not need to know, he does not need to remember. the pain, the beatings, the abuse, the brutality and oh, the blood, all the blood.. his brother may be miserable enough in his amnesia but it is for his own good. his brother, his sweet, sensitive brother, to know the truth --

it would unravel him. it would destroy him. it is better this way, better not to know, not to remember..


his grip tightens, and vincent breathes a quiet, easy sigh, pressing close and closing his eyes. this.. this is all he wants in life, all that he needs, and nothing else. gilbert's closeness, the warmth of him, the scent of him, the knowledge that he is here, right here, makes vincent feel safe in a way he never can otherwise. he will be content, to nap here, perhaps, against his brother, and it's as if they are children again. ]

[chainedraven]

[As time passes Gilbert's discomfort slowly eases along with the tension in his muscles; the monotonous sound of the train along the tracks lulls him, even as the even sound of Vincent's breathing and his warm presence peculiarly comforts him. Something about this, the posture, the drowsy huddle against his side, seems... familiar. And at the same time, the darkness stirs inside of him, whispers from the void of his past tickling fear along his spine to keep him from finding complete rest.

Moving on an impulse he doesn't bother to question, his usual restraint weakened by the nearness of sleep, Gilbert lifts his free hand to rest lightly against Vincent's hair.]

Sleep, Vince. I'm here. You're safe.

[laceratings]

[ the last time...

vincent cannot remember the last time he felt this way, the last time he experienced this.. this warmth. this safety. this thing that is almost like acceptance. he cannot remember the last time gilbert said a word to him in kindness, in sweetness, not since before they were.. not since.. since..

all at once he tenses, only slightly, almost imperceptibly, and his grip on gilbert's arm tightens -- this is- he shouldn't- he doesn't deserve this much..

but he cannot pull away, he cannot, he can only turn his face into gilbert's sleeve to hide it, soothed by the gentle weight of his brother's hand against his hair, lost in an old memory, or perhaps a handful of memories of a time that was harder and yet in many ways warmer..

the train rolls and churns and blasts its mournful call and vincent allows himself to become absorbed in the memory of a time that he will never grasp again. he is lulled easily. i'm here. you're safe. the words swirl in his mind, painfully nostalgic, but he cannot resist the charm of them, cannot resist the black call of the promise of peaceful sleep. ]