requests } { 100 situations

[iluvroadrunner6]

Okay. Here's the deal.

My writing muse has been kicking me in the ass. I want to try and jumpstart it. So here is the plan: under the cut there is a table of prompts that I stole from 100_situations. You give me a verse and/or pairing and a prompt, and I will write you comment fic.

It doesn't have to be something we play. It could just be something that you know I know. Crossovers are gold. Cracky funtime prompts are even better. You can give me as many as you want, but do keep in mind that there are only a hundred prompts and you do need to share.

I will try to get as many of these as I can done this week so that they're not other there forever as they usually are. Just MAKE ME WRITE. Please. I will guarantee you at least a hundred words.

Thank you.

001.	Tired	002.	Back Alley	003.	Sunrise	004.	Late	005.	Son
006.	Hot	007.	Friend	008.	Floor	009.	Cheat	010.	Think
011.	Disgust	012.	Shelter	013.	Borrow	014.	Chair	015.	Alter
016.	Peace	017.	Beach	018.	True	019.	Crazy	020.	Love
021.	New	022.	Beggar	023.	False	024.	Happy	025.	Cancer
026.	Pickpocket	027.	Reverse	028.	Deliver	029.	Arrival	030.	Fall
031.	Knife	032.	Torn	033.	Danger	034.	Neutral	035.	Mate
036.	Fly	037.	Loud	038.	Touch	039.	Seek	040.	Argue
041.	Work	042.	Sink	043.	Nut	044.	Stuck	045.	Animal
046.	Pray	047.	Kill	048.	Light	049.	Cold	050.	Affair
051.	Restaurant	052.	Movie	053.	Wait	054.	Patient	055.	Crime
056.	Choke	057.	Fever	058.	Summer	059.	Eat	060.	Thirst
061.	Chance	062.	Appear	063.	Whisper	064.	Day	065.	Scream
066.	Fail	067.	Confused	068.	Smile	069.	Come	070.	Alone
071.	Fast	072.	Slow	073.	Return	074.	Fire	075.	Positive
076.	Baby	077.	Upset	078.	Kitchen	079.	Winter	080.	Ignorant
081.	Fool	082.	Afraid	083.	Prison	084.	Sex	085.	Hate
086.	Alarm	087.	Genius	088.	Negative	089.	Flood	090.	Bomb
091.	Hospital	092.	Trap	093.	Celebrate	094.	Old	095.	Disappear
096.	Writer‘s Choice.	097.	Writer‘s Choice.	098.	Writer‘s Choice.	099.	Writer‘s Choice.	100.	Writer‘s Choice.

Prompts Written: 37/100
Total Word Count: 38,549 words

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there's something missing in us, we try to make it whole | beyond the rift | 1185 words

[toomuchheart]

Castiel hasn’t left the compound since Crowley brought him there.

More to the point, he hasn’t left the room they gave him. There are people in the compound, and that calls to him—he can be there for them, just like he was at the prison—but the people here are different. They know his name. They know him and he knows nothing about them. Part of him finds that reassuring, but at the same time, he wants to remember. He wants to be able to look at these people and know what they mean to him.

Having those kinds of blanks are not easy.

He doesn’t want to stay there. Not until he has some answers, but answers are hard to come by, and the world outside this compound is not welcoming. He doesn’t want to wind up back in prison again, so he stays in his room and watches the entries collect on his journal. Names he should know, faces he can’t place. It’s frustrating, but at least he’s aware of what’s going on beyond his four walls. The events don’t mean anything to him in the abstract, but he knows they’re happening. It’s a step.

He doesn’t sleep—he never has, from what he can remember—and at night the compounds get a lot quieter and it feels safer to venture out into the world. He wanders the halls on foot, as strange as that feels, getting to know the compound on his own terms. He does this for almost a week before something changes. He finds himself not walking in silence.

It’s a light airy tune, played on some kind of instrument, and as he follows the source of the sound, he can see that there’s a voice to go along with it. He has the same reaction to it that he does everything else in this world—familiar, but not. When he manages to find the woman at the piano, with long blond hair and a pretty face, he just stands there. It gives him an odd sensation of déjà vu, but he isn’t entirely sure what to say either. At least not until she looks up.

“Hey, Cas.” She looks up at him with a bright smile. “Was wonderin’ when you’d come ‘round.”

“I’m sorry,” he begins almost on instinct, as he’s done so many times before. “I don’t—”

“Remember,” she finishes, turning to face him a little more. “I know. Anna told me.” She pauses. “I’m Cassie. We were friends.”

Somehow, friends are always more daunting than acquaintances or enemies. There’s supposed to be a connection there, and he can’t find it. Cassie, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to mind, though she might have had more time to deal with the idea. “I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he starts slowly. “I heard the music.”

“You can come sit if you like,” she replies, moving to the side so that there’s more room for him on the bench. “I don’t mind.”

He hesitates for a moment, before slowly moving to sit next to her. Once he’s settled on the bench, her hands pick up and start to play again, the same melody as before, right from where she left off. “You play very well,” he comments after a moment or two. “Have you been playing a long time?”

“Long as I can remember,” she replies, pausing only to play through the key change. “I was a music teacher, here at Looney. This used to be my classroom.”

Castiel blinks for a moment, surprised. “I didn’t know this used to be a school.”

“High school, yeah,” she shrugs. “Natives didn’t want it. Rumor is there’s a Rift in the basement, but you’ll have to ask Buffy how true that is. She’s not here now though.” There’s a hint of sadness to her voice at that, and Castiel can’t tell if it’s because this ‘Buffy’ is dead, or if she is missing for some other reason.

Though, given the state of things at the moment, the odds for dead are higher. Even in his addled state he knows that.

“I’m sorry,” he replies softly. “ … Did I know her?”

“Don’t know. But she used to work here too, as the guidance counselor.”

“Did I work here?”

She laughs. It’s a light sound, and there’s something about it that makes him feel warm. “I don’t think you worked anywhere. You were an angel. Having a job wasn’t really something you thought about.”

The idea of not having a job, after living among the humans for so long, seems almost foreign to him and very unproductive. “I see.”

After that they fall into a silence that isn’t uncomfortable, and isn’t awkward, and it’s the first time that he’s felt that since he’s returned to his ‘friends’. Sometimes they talk, but for the most part, there’s just the music and it seems to speak for both of them. When they part ways, he’s looking forward to seeing her again.

It’s the first time he’s felt that way in a while.

***

Over the next few weeks, Castiel starts to spend more and more time with Cassie. She doesn’t rush him to remember, or use references he doesn’t understand. She tells him about their friendship like she’s trying to tell a story—there are no expectations. Maybe it’s a testament to how long she’s been in Chicago, or maybe it’s a testatment to her patience, but there’s something simple and easy about their friendship.

And sometimes, she even brings him pie.

It’s on one of these occasions that she brings him something else. It’s a small wrapped package that she places in his lap without cause or explanation. He pauses, before looking up at her in confusion. “What is this?”

“Something of yours,” she says softly. “The old you, anyway. Thought you might want it back.”

He takes the package in his hands, turning it over slowly. It’s not heavy or of a firm shape. As he tears back the wrapping, he catches a flash of khaki, and which prompts him to move faster. It’s almost as though he’s chasing some kind of memory, something that’s important to him that he can’t quite place. When the paper is gone and all that’s left is the coat in his hands, he isn’t entirely sure how to respond. It’s not worn or ragged like his other clothing. It’s clean and comfortable.

“I know it’s just a trench coat,” she says quietly. “But it’s yours.”

“Actually, I believe it is an over coat.”

He doesn’t know how he knows it, but it seems like a comfortable assumption to make.

She smiles. “You should put it on. It looks better that way.”

He stands up for a moment, shifting his shoulders to slide the overcoat into place. While it doesn’t bring back any memories, it feels like a part of him that is missing has come back. Not all of it, not even a majority of it, but some.

For the first time in a long time, he smiles. “Thank you, Cassie.”

“You’re welcome, Cas.”