Character Sketches
Dec. 3rd, 2019 06:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kat_lair***
So, a while ago I wrote some more drunken character sketches based on requests. These are the written equivalent of doodles. You can find all the previous character sketches on AO3 and I’ll be posting these there shortly as well.
Previous character sketches:
Gerard Way (Bandom, My Chemical Romance)
Brendon Urie (Bandom, Panic! at the Disco)
Gabe Saporta (Bandom, Cobra Starship)
Bruno Tonioli (Strictly Come Dancing)
Harold Finch (Person of Interest)
Dean Winchester (Supernatural)
John Mitchell (Being Human UK)
***
Shen Wei (with implied Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan) (Guardian) – fortrobadora
Years are like stones, tossed one after another into the lake of his life until the waters rise, flooding the fields and villages and forests. In the end, there is nothing left to see but the still, mirror smooth surface, reflecting whatever is necessary, casting back any image needed. It hurts at first, the drowning, but there is peace now, in the gentle ebb and flow of existence, in giving up on living in any real meaning of the word. He is the water that endures, the river that erodes mountains, he is what stays constant when stars turn and generations change, forever still and forever moving at the same time. It was different once, he remembers pain as sharp as blade, joy sharper still, but these things are distant now, carrier further away by each passing year.
Until.
Until he looks up and the man looking back is the one he lost so long ago he can't count the years (except he can), can't measure the heartbeats (he can, he won't). His face is the blade that honed desire and sorrow in equal measure, and Shen Wei feels something give in, a crack in the very foundations of him.
The dam breaks. On an exhale, aeons rush out.
He doesn't know what will be left after the waters recede. He hopes it will be enough.
***
Lin-Manuel Miranda (RPF) – forpushkin666 (specific request was Lin singing karaoke in Wales)
In the end, there are words, always words, twisting, flowing, smooth and jagged, dropping from his mouth like fireflies. They say the pen is mightier than the sword and Lin has always known his tongue is a razor blade, a pistol, a warhead. Deploy with caution.
Fuck caution. He's got cause.
He is the cause.
The words are the cause. And the music.
And in this country, where both are seeped into the land, into the craggy, wind-swept hills (and the folk under them), the power pushes at his throat, swelling like a tide. The crowd – smaller in number, no less in their hunger – pulls him in, lifts him up and the song... Lin grins, wild and weightless. The song is already waiting for him, and he lays himself open for it, a dagger unsheathed and aimed for your heart.
***
Rodney McKay (Stargate Atlantis) + the team – formf_luder_xf
Inside Rodney’s mind, there are galaxies, swirling around and around, shining horses on an endless carousel. Neurons fire like comets on a tightening orbit, ideas going supernova, spewing out matter for the creation of new ideastheoriesmodels, new I will show you, another I will save you (everyone, everyone, please everyone).
Sometimes, a black hole of failure, of arrogance and I thought I could so I did sucks him in (but not everyone, please not everyone) and he has to claw himself out against the crushing weight of should’ve known better, should’ve been better, should’ve, should’ve, should’ve.
Coffee helps. Sugar too.
He’s not been flippant (well he is, but not now, not about this). They help. They ground him in the here and now. Teyla’s hands are steady and strong as she pours hot water over instant granules (needs must), Ronon roughly tearing a flaky pastry in two, crumbs already caught in his beard. John’s voice never shakes, not even once, when he says ‘okay, this is what we’ll do next time’ and Rodney is caught in the gravity of other bodies. Caught and held there.
Still.
Even if only for a moment.
***
So, a while ago I wrote some more drunken character sketches based on requests. These are the written equivalent of doodles. You can find all the previous character sketches on AO3 and I’ll be posting these there shortly as well.
Previous character sketches:
Gerard Way (Bandom, My Chemical Romance)
Brendon Urie (Bandom, Panic! at the Disco)
Gabe Saporta (Bandom, Cobra Starship)
Bruno Tonioli (Strictly Come Dancing)
Harold Finch (Person of Interest)
Dean Winchester (Supernatural)
John Mitchell (Being Human UK)
***
Shen Wei (with implied Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan) (Guardian) – for
trobadora Years are like stones, tossed one after another into the lake of his life until the waters rise, flooding the fields and villages and forests. In the end, there is nothing left to see but the still, mirror smooth surface, reflecting whatever is necessary, casting back any image needed. It hurts at first, the drowning, but there is peace now, in the gentle ebb and flow of existence, in giving up on living in any real meaning of the word. He is the water that endures, the river that erodes mountains, he is what stays constant when stars turn and generations change, forever still and forever moving at the same time. It was different once, he remembers pain as sharp as blade, joy sharper still, but these things are distant now, carrier further away by each passing year.
Until.
Until he looks up and the man looking back is the one he lost so long ago he can't count the years (except he can), can't measure the heartbeats (he can, he won't). His face is the blade that honed desire and sorrow in equal measure, and Shen Wei feels something give in, a crack in the very foundations of him.
The dam breaks. On an exhale, aeons rush out.
He doesn't know what will be left after the waters recede. He hopes it will be enough.
***
Lin-Manuel Miranda (RPF) – for
pushkin666 (specific request was Lin singing karaoke in Wales) In the end, there are words, always words, twisting, flowing, smooth and jagged, dropping from his mouth like fireflies. They say the pen is mightier than the sword and Lin has always known his tongue is a razor blade, a pistol, a warhead. Deploy with caution.
Fuck caution. He's got cause.
He is the cause.
The words are the cause. And the music.
And in this country, where both are seeped into the land, into the craggy, wind-swept hills (and the folk under them), the power pushes at his throat, swelling like a tide. The crowd – smaller in number, no less in their hunger – pulls him in, lifts him up and the song... Lin grins, wild and weightless. The song is already waiting for him, and he lays himself open for it, a dagger unsheathed and aimed for your heart.
***
Rodney McKay (Stargate Atlantis) + the team – for
mf_luder_xf Inside Rodney’s mind, there are galaxies, swirling around and around, shining horses on an endless carousel. Neurons fire like comets on a tightening orbit, ideas going supernova, spewing out matter for the creation of new ideastheoriesmodels, new I will show you, another I will save you (everyone, everyone, please everyone).
Sometimes, a black hole of failure, of arrogance and I thought I could so I did sucks him in (but not everyone, please not everyone) and he has to claw himself out against the crushing weight of should’ve known better, should’ve been better, should’ve, should’ve, should’ve.
Coffee helps. Sugar too.
He’s not been flippant (well he is, but not now, not about this). They help. They ground him in the here and now. Teyla’s hands are steady and strong as she pours hot water over instant granules (needs must), Ronon roughly tearing a flaky pastry in two, crumbs already caught in his beard. John’s voice never shakes, not even once, when he says ‘okay, this is what we’ll do next time’ and Rodney is caught in the gravity of other bodies. Caught and held there.
Still.
Even if only for a moment.
***
no subject
on 2019-12-04 11:21 pm (UTC)Fledge has nearly finished her SPN ReverseBang fic and I'm the beta and it's fabulous. Just telling you in advance!
no subject
on 2019-12-07 02:45 pm (UTC)And yes, got notice of Fledge's fic being posted. It's gone to my Christmas reading list... 😁