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trash mod ([personal profile] trash_mod) wrote in [community profile] biotrash2014-03-19 04:11 pm

BIOSHOCK KINK MEME

Stars, hide your fires;
Let not light see my black and deep desires

- bioshock trash crew proverb







== A RAPTURE REMINDER: ==

PROMPTS AND FILLS WITH INFORMATION ON BURAL AT SEA 2 ARE SPOILERS.

THIS POST IS A SPOILER FREE ZONE UNTIL APRIL 27th.
PLEASE ADD ALL SPOILERY PROMPTS AND FILLS TO THIS POST UNTIL THAT TIME.

Spoilery comments to this post will be deleted, and their authors vanished in the night to volunteer in our city's fine Protector Program.

Thank you for your attention. Have a nice day!




Welcome to the Bioshock kink meme.

You can find a semi-frequently-updated list of prompts, with links and an indication of whether they've been filled, here at the index.



it is a kink meme. people anonymously (or not) request fic and pictures; other people anonymously (or not) write that fic and draw those pictures. everyone masturbates, peace is achieved.



there are two ways to take part!

1) start a new comment thread with a pairing/ship, and a kink. there's a kink masterlist here if you find yourself strapped for ideas.

2) swoop into an existing comment thread, and fill the person's request with art or writing. if someone's already filled the request, go for it anyway -- the more the merrier! if you need somewhere to upload/host images, try imgur.



there are some beautiful gems on the old kink memes. if you want an example of how this whole thing works, or you're digging for gold, look no further: on Livejournal, on Dreamwidth.


NOW GO FORTH AND MULTIPLY, MY CHILDREN

Jack/Big Daddy

(Anonymous) 2014-03-21 07:38 am (UTC)(link)
JACK GETS DRILLED

Ceci n’est pas un drill

(Anonymous) 2014-03-29 03:17 am (UTC)(link)
Fort Frolic was an odd time for Jack.

He spent most of it feeling like he was sort of in a daze, that kind of hovering sense that comes with your twentieth hour awake. Where ideas were fuzzier, and harder to judge. Where you’d take pictures of dead guys, sure, no question, if it gets you out of a depressingly barren and dusty entertainment district. He was starting to care less, if at all. His pace was slowing; less hurried, more casual. Maybe even leisurely. He could have just been tired, or maybe it was all just getting old, by now. Go here, kill this, get that, come back, do it again. Different radio voice, different part of town, but same old, same old.

Jack sat at a small wire table in front of the remains of a cafe, cigarette in one hand and a thermos of coffee in the other. He was taking another break - they were coming more and more frequent, now. Because he was tired. Because he hadn’t slept since -- since the airplane, maybe. Not really a lot of time for it, with the staff in the med pavilion, or the desperation to rescue Atlas’ family, or to stop Rapture from suffocating. Maybe he should have taken a snooze in Langford’s lab, but killing Ryan was high in his priorities and he didn’t think it was going to take so long to get to him.

Hmph.

He was watching the rest of the area, though not for Splicers. Well, yes, for Splicers, but not out of interest to his personal safety, just for something to do. But they seemed to be less common since he uncovered that leaky basement... Or maybe something else was keeping them away.

The mournful wail of a Bouncer reverberated off of pretty much everything in Fort Frolic, but by its the volume and the sound of its footsteps, Jack placed it as around the corner, far to the left, and approaching. Jack’s nose wrinkled. It was something, sure, but more smelly and less exciting. Oh well, more time for him to sit and think, at least.

He watched the Big Daddy stomp by, past the bombed out cafe and over to a nearby Little Sister vent. Jack had long sent off all of the Sisters patrolling here, so the Bouncer's fruitless pounding did nothing but make Jack’s head throb.

He didn’t like the Bouncers, of course. He hated them more than the Rosies, even after being personally shredded by their rivets and splattered by their bombs -- which, thinking on it, was a little odd. He certainly had more reason to be wary of Rosies, with their range and how much it hurt to take a chestful of rivets and shrapnel, but there was something about the Bouncer’s stockier, thicker build that make Jack’s hair stand on end. Or was there something more to it? Rosies weren't lightweights either, but they didn't strike the same kind of fear in him...

The Bouncer gave up on the vent, and started to walk away, and as it turned, its drill flashed in the light. Jack experienced a moment of enlightenment.

The drill, that was it!

Conical lance of death, is what it was, and it looked about as fun to get stabbed by that as it did to stick your arm in a propeller. He'd watched a few splicers go that way, in fact, and shuddered through the whole show every time -- but that had been hours ago, when he was new to this. Before the first time he died.

Now that he had experienced several messy ends - shot, stabbed, blown up, cut apart, drowned, crushed - he had a better idea of what pain was, and what it was like to die, so why should another chunk of pointy metal scare him?

It shouldn’t. That was stupid, clearly, and it was only going to hold him back. So, Jack made a decision: that he had to face this goddamn fear.

His chair screeched against the tiles as he stood up and flicked his cigarette away, and of course the Bouncer ignored it. It didn’t ignore the lightning bolt to its back.

Jack’s head rung at the force of its roar, but he managed to keep his ground, standing straight across from the thing with his arms spread wide. Come and get me.

The Bouncer stomped its feet and charged - but it didn't raise its drill. Jack noticed that, but had no time to try to correct it before the grill of the Bouncer's helmet impacted and crushed his ribcage against the wall. Jack gasped for breath, tasting blood already - and fuck, jesus, shit, it hurt. Fear jolted through him as something occurred to him through the mess in his head - what if the pain from getting pasted to the wall was too distracting for this plan to work?

The Bouncer took a step back, and if he were a little more together, Jack would be impressed at how it managed to peel him off of its head. But his thoughts were scrambled like his thoracic cavity, and by the time he could see a little clearer again, the drill was already winding up. His eyes snapped to the glistening, spinning, screaming drill, and he watched as it was pulled back.

Turned out, he had nothing to worry about.

The thrust of the drill hurt enough on its own - but the whirring blade boring through his belly naturally hurt more, slashing over and over again the deeper it went. Blood and mucus and maybe something else ran from his nose and mouth, and he couldn't tell when it started. The drill shuddered and jerked when it hit the stone behind Jack, and he felt the vibration down to his fingertips like a shock. Not his toes; his legs were gone already, with his spine in the way.

His breathing was - almost non-existent, actually, since the muscles he needed for that were just about shredded entirely. But he managed to smile, at least, through his fading senses. He knew it wouldn’t be much longer with the rate his blood and everything else was pouring out of him - though, faintly, he was curious how the Bouncer planned to take him off of the drill. But that wasn’t as important as what little he could still feel. He shut his eyes and focused, memorizing as much as he could about the fire in his nerves and the rust in his veins before it all slipped away and



He choked awake in the vita chamber, catching himself against the door. He was getting better at that. He stayed there, catching his breath, his hand over his stomach. Finally, after sucking a longer breath in through his teeth, he let it out slowly, and then, just as slowly, just as shakily, he grinned again.

Well.

That wasn’t so bad, was it?

Re: Ceci n’est pas un drill

(Anonymous) 2014-03-29 03:19 am (UTC)(link)
i cannot Believe

c'est l'autuere

(Anonymous) 2014-03-29 03:39 pm (UTC)(link)
so was that what you were looking for then

Re: Ceci n’est pas un drill

(Anonymous) 2014-03-29 05:58 pm (UTC)(link)
op is TURNED ON WHAT HAVE YOU DONE..........................

c'est l'auteure

(Anonymous) 2014-03-29 06:14 pm (UTC)(link)
succeeded, apparently. :') ty op i'm glad you meant that literally then

Re: c'est l'auteure

(Anonymous) 2014-03-29 10:42 pm (UTC)(link)
this fill is simultaneously everything I could have hoped for and imagined and also completely beyond anything I could have hoped for and imagined