Free for all Friday!
Oct. 29th, 2010 01:06 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
cyphersushi.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
comment_ficGreetings lovlies! It's Friday and time for imaginations to drop all inhibitions and do whatever they want. So go forth and prompt! Just remember the rules:
And some examples on formatting so make life a little bit easier on our darling codemonkeys:
Most of all, remember to have fun!
*No more than three prompts from one fandom at a time.
*No more than five prompts in a row
*No spoilers in you prompts until one week after publication/airdate.
*If one prompt gets answered you can leave a new one.
And some examples on formatting so make life a little bit easier on our darling codemonkeys:
Stargate Universe, Telford/Young, It's easier to carry if you share.
Castle, Esposito/Ryan, I'll catch you (won't ever leave)
Leverage/Burn Notice, Eliot Spencer/Michael Westen, How did we end up here again?
Firefly/X-men, Jayne/Jean Grey, Don't touch the fire or you might burn
Most of all, remember to have fun!
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no subject
Date: 2010-10-29 11:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-29 11:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-29 11:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-29 11:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-29 11:08 am (UTC)filled
Date: 2010-10-29 10:21 pm (UTC)"Dean, just take the stupid letter so we can get some sleep." Sammy whined as the owl thumped it's wings against the windshield.
"I'm not going out there, the thing's probably possessed. we're staying in here until dad gets back." Dean said.
"But I have to pee!" and cue the water works.
Dean sighed, feeling so much older than his eleven years.
"Fine I'll take the damn letter and hopefully it'll go away."
Dean slowly rolled down the window and reached out for the huffy owl. It stuck out it's foot to allow easier access to the letter. Dean removed the letter only to jerk back with a yelp as the bird bit him before flying off.
Slowly he turned the letter over.
To Dean Winchester
Passenger seat, The Impala
Brenton, Ohio USA
Dean's brow furrowed and he opened the letter.
Dear Mr Winchester,
We at the Salem Institute of Witchcraft and Wizardry would like to congratulate you on being accepted to our institution. Enclosed are your supply lists and class schedule.
We have been informed that you have been raised mainly in the Muggle world and so we will be sending a representitive to discuss you options with your parents and take you shopping for your classes.
Please note that weapons, with the exceptions of small knives used in class, are strictly forbidden.
We look forward to seeing you.
Mrs. Ambrose
Headmistress
Order of Merlin second class.
"No way!" Sammy said looking at the letter with wide, happy eyes.
Re: filled
From:no subject
Date: 2010-10-29 11:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-29 11:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-29 11:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-29 11:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-29 11:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-29 11:36 am (UTC)Filled
Date: 2011-01-18 05:53 pm (UTC)If he could just figure out what it is, what it’s supposed to be, Sherlock would probably grow bored with his newest obsession and everything could return to normal and no one would ever have to know. It’s a small thing (as a concept, in actual size it’s somewhat larger than Sherlock is comfortable with) and nearly insignificant given the wealth of other, larger, more interesting things the Consulting Detective could be fixating on.
But it mocks him.
It’s not that he sees it constantly, what with it being rather buried under unattractive oatmeal covered jumpers most of the time, it’s that he knows it’s there. Knows every curve and dip and angle of it, knows the flat shiny bits and the protruding bits that feel a bit like rubber under his fingers. He even knows what did it, when, how long it took for help to arrive. Sherlock knows everything there is to know about the knotted, knobby scar on John’s shoulder...except what it is.
It has to be something; something more than just the physical manifestation of grievous injury, something more than a vague curiosity that grew until it was obsession because if it isn’t, if Sherlock can’t make it something more, then sooner or later John is just going to become one more thing that lives under his microscope until Sherlock tires of him and tosses him in the trash like so many other things that were wonderful until they weren’t and Sherlock doesn’t want that, couldn’t bear that, needs to keep John beside him where he belongs and he can’t do that if he can’t stop fixating on that damnable scar.
Then the unthinkable happens and Sherlock is shot.
It’s only a bit of a thing, a flesh wound really and not even worth breaking out the good drugs, but it’s going to scar, John’s the one who tells him, with his face scrunched with concern. Lestrade cracks a joke about Sherlock never wearing short sleeves anyway so it won’t matter, but the tightness in his eyes makes it anything but funny. Strange that no one really knows what Sherlock will do now that he’s been hurt, been marked by his beloved chosen profession, but they needn’t concern themselves really, because they all seem to have forgotten he’s a sociopath and he never reacts to anything quite the way someone else might.
“A scar?” He says it like a barren woman might say baby, like something sacred and feared and hoped for. “Oh how marvellous.”
Re: Filled
From:no subject
Date: 2010-10-29 11:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-29 11:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-29 11:42 am (UTC)no fic, but--
Date: 2010-10-29 06:46 pm (UTC)spoilers for Captain America #611
Date: 2010-10-29 11:44 am (UTC).
.
Marvel, Bucky Barnes/Natasha Romanoff, behind bars
no subject
Date: 2010-10-29 12:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-29 12:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-29 12:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-29 12:05 pm (UTC)filled
Date: 2010-10-29 10:31 pm (UTC)The scent of the harsh cleaners burn his nostrils but they can't cover the mouth-watering scent of blood that surrounds him, warm and red and so delicious. His fangs ache and he feels nauseous from hunger. They're so close...
And then the chip goes off and he jerks awake at the end of his chain, Dawn mere inches from where he's sitting, a steaming mug of blood spilled around her feet.
Spike whimpers and curls into himself, trying to hide from her, from himself, from the thought that he nearly ripped out the throat of the only being who really cared for him.
He curses the initiative as he flinches away from Dawn's touch.
"No." He moans, turning his face as far to the wall as he can manage.
Re: filled
From:no subject
Date: 2010-10-29 12:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-29 12:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-29 12:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-29 12:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-29 12:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-29 12:28 pm (UTC)