Getsuyobi - Prompt is the First Line

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

Happy Monday, y'all. My name is tiptoe39 and I am tickled pink to be your host for comment_fic this week.

Inspiration comes in funny ways, doesn't it? We're all here because we love to write, but sometimes we just need a prompt - a beginning. So today your prompts will be the first line. Give your writers a push out of the gate and see where they run with it!

As always, obey the rules:

• Three prompts per fandom, and no more than five total. If one of your prompts is filled, you may post another.


• No spoilers for new shows/seasons until at least one week after airing.


• If your fill contains spoilers, please warn for it and leave enough space for people to pass by.

Feed the overworked codemonkeys correctly formatted prompts:

• Supernatural, Dean/author's choice, It was the last person Dean ever expected to see through the peephole of the motel room door.


• Fringe, Peter/Olivia, "We're going to have to talk about this sooner or later."


• Heroes/Nu!Trek, Peter Petrelli/Jim Kirk, Peter couldn't help but wonder what his mother would say right now.

If you don't see a beginning you'd like to continue, head back to our Lonely Prompts and give them a happy ending instead.

[theme=promptisthefirstline]

Comments

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Dean/author's choice, It was the last person Dean never expected to see through the peephole of the motel room door.

Filled

[ihasstopwatch.livejournal.com]

I'm sorry this didn't turn out quite so explicitly pairing-y, but I tried. Plus, I... kinda couldn't resist....


It was the last person Dean ever expected to see through the peephole of the motel room door. After he and Sam had gone back to Kripke's Hollow to check out Chuck's house - Becky had called them in a panic and said she hadn't heard from him in days, but the police wouldn't do anything about it - Dean had honestly figured that the guy just did not want to be found. With the Apocalypse giving him enough material to need an assload of therapy, he really can't blame Chuck for just wanting to disappear and unwind.

But there he is, shifting from one foot to the other nervously and looking healthier than Dean's ever seen him. Well, if he didn't count the white "douche suit". With a quick glance over his shoulder at Sam, who's busy typing away at something so fast that it sounds like his fingers are on Viagra, Dean opens the door. "What are you doing here, Chuck?"

"I, uh… I don't really know, to be honest. One minute, I was at home, writing about the day you confronted Death and then I woke up in the parking lot and I look like a televangelist," Chuck says, almost squeaking with fright at the thought of losing time without even getting drunk first. "I think I may have been possessed by… uh…"

Dean raises one eyebrow and pulls Chuck inside because this is one conversation he is not having where civilians might hear him. "Possessed by what? Chuck, you look great. And you don't-" He leans in, sniffs at Chuck's hair, but all he finds is something that's a little bit shampoo and a little bit Chuck himself. "You don't smell like sulfur. What the hell happened?"

Chuck starts twitching again as he looks back and forth from Dean to Sam for a lot longer than he should if he wasn't being possessed by a demon. Or he was and the demon just has really great hygiene. "Uh, I don't know if you'll believe me. And you might want to sit down."

"Oh trust me, after some of the things we've seen this year, I'm willing to believe just about anything," Dean says with a snort. He complies with Chuck's suggestion anyway because hey, can't hurt, right?

A long silence again, then- "God. I… think I was being possessed by God."

"Son of a bitch."

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

Fringe, Peter/Olivia, "We're going to have to talk about this sooner or later."

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

Heroes/Nu!Trek, Peter Petrelli/Jim Kirk, Peter couldn't help but wonder what his mother would say right now.

[samueljames]

Chuck, Chuck/Awesome, "Are you pondering what I'm pondering?"

[samueljames]

White Collar, Neal/Sara, The more she saw of Neal, the more intrigued she felt and that infuriated her.

Fill- I'm gonna kill you... and steal your hat.

[ahavaelwilhouse.livejournal.com]

The more she saw of Neal, the more intruiguesd she felt, and that infuriated her. She was supposed to be catching him, not falling for him, for cripes sake. But that charm, those eyes... That curly hair she wanted to play with, topped by that hat she wanted to steal. Wait, what?

"Hey, Sarah, what're you thinking?" Neal asked, turning over in the bed, sheets covering his very virile manhood. His chest, slick with sweat, had bite marks on it from where she'd bitten. So she had a penchant for biting. Something she hadn't discovered until she's slept with Caffrey. She lowered her head into her hands. "I'm thinking that I just slept with the enemy."

Neal sighed. "You know, I don't have to be the enemy. I could be the friend."

"Right. With friends like you, who needs enemies."

[kijikun.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, John/Gabriel/ "Daddy, come see the egg!"

[samueljames]

Doctor Who, Amy/Eleven, "I told you, Pond, those are no ordinary mice."

[kijikun.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Balthazar/Lisa, "Do you love my mom?"

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

"Do you love my mom?"

Balthasar wasn't the least bit fazed by the scowl. "Well, that's one hell of a question. Do you love my father?"

Ben made a face. "No."

"How do you know?" He sprawled over the couch, making Ben look at him even more suspiciously. The more wrinkles appeared on the boy's forehead, the more fun Balthasar was having.

"Cause I don't know him."

"Are you sure about that?"

Ben stopped, pondered the question. “Why? Is he famous or something?”

Balthasar laughed loudly. “Yes, he’s quite famous.”

“What is he, a rock star? He’d have to be really old.” Ben wrinkled his nose and looked over at the doorway, mentally urging his mom to hurry up and come downstairs. This conversation was getting more confusing than boring.

“My father,” Balthasar said, kicking his feet up onto the sofa cushion -- damn it, Mom never let Ben do that -- “is an artist. I can guarantee you’ve seen his work.”

“An artist?” Ben wrinkled his nose. “That’s boring.”

“He’s also an inventor.” Balthasar went on. “He invented things you use every day.”

“Like what?”

“That,” Balthasar said, ”would be telling.” And now Lisa came through the doorway, looking radiant in a purple gown, and both Ben and Balthasar forgot their questions long enough to rise to their feet stare at her in rapt admiration.

“Do I even want to know what you two were discussing?” Lisa asked.

“Never,” Balthasar said, holding out his arm. “Shall we?”

They were almost to the door when Ben cried out, “Hey! You never answered my question!”

Lisa turned, amused. “ What question is that, sweetie?”

Ben blushed. Balthasar winked at him. “That,” he said, “would also be telling.”

FILL: Whole Lotta Love (Jo/Pam, PG-13)

[http://users.livejournal.com/_bluebells/]

“What?” Pam smiled with an innocent shrug, stepping closer between Jo’s legs where the blonde sat on the bar.

Jo bit her lip to keep from smiling when Pam reached for her sides again.

“No, don’t—“ Jo jerked, eyes squeezing shut as she shrieked with laughter, pushing Pam’s tickling hands away.

“What?” Pam teased as Jo tried and failed to catch her hands, let Jo’s ankles hook at her lower back and reel her in.

Jo’s whole body was rigid and tensed for Pam’s next attack, breaths short, but she was beaming, bright hair spilling down her neck as Pam leaned up to kiss her smile. The sun streamed through the tall window over the counter, bouncing rays off the polished wood and draught taps onto their skin as Pamela pulled Jo flush against her, sharing a snicker when Jo sat on her hands to halt their wander back to Jo’s ticklish ribs.

The sun was always waning in her Heaven. Pamela had never seen Jo under a sunrise or had to reach out for her in moonless nights. But tomorrow, maybe.

Jo hummed happily against her lips, nuzzled with a seldom-faded smile and, not for the first time, Pamela was glad Ash had brought Jo through this transit station, that Jo never seemed to mind the endless sunset.

“’M ready when you are,” Jo said, fingers kneading the back of Pamela’s neck as she wrapped legs around her waist. Pamela grinned, squeezing the denim-clad ass in her hands as Jo rocked against her stomach and Jo was quick to anchor herself when the psychic hoisted her off the bar, sharp inhale of sound lost when Pamela kissed her again and marched them to the back exit.

“Go on," Jo said, reaching behind her.

Pamela felt Jo’s hold loosen as that door swung open and a blast of heat hit them the same time as the roar of adoration and tuning guitars like Jo had flicked a switch, unmuting the real glory of Heaven. Jo’s hands were at Pamela’s shoulders, trusting the other woman to let her down as she had all the times past before Pamela sauntered out onto that stage to the ballad of her life.

Jo grunted when Pamela crushed her against the wooden doorframe, melted in surprise as Pamela held her up and kissed her deep, slow and hungry. Jo’s groan trembled against Pamela’s lips, the sound reverberating through her body everywhere Pamela pressed, ground up between the v of her thighs.

“Ugh… Pam….” Jo growled, head falling back against the doorframe as Pamela’s mouth slid down her chin, trailing wet kisses to her neck.

Pamela hugged Jo to her, holding a kiss under her jaw.

“Joanna Beth Harvelle,” Pamela murmured and smiled up into Jo’s look of concern at the use of her full name. “Would you give me a whole lotta love, honey?”

Jo blinked, hands tight on her shoulders as she searched Pamela’s face, understanding slowly dawning in her expression.

“Really?” Jo glanced to the side, towards the waiting stage under bright lights. “Out there?”

Pamela couldn’t help the shrug, swaying them with a roll of her hips.

“On my stairway to Heaven.”

Jo arched a dark eyebrow, lips pursing to fight the smile at Pamela’s choice of words.

“Okay, I get the idea. I did grow up in a bar and our jukebox didn’t lack for Zeppelin.”

Pamela laughed and settled Jo on her feet, sped her on with a slap on her ass and grinned at the flirtatiously vengeful look thrown back in her direction.

It was the first time she’d shared this slice of her paradise, but she knew she made the right choice with the smooth familiar weight of her six string and Jo at her side, microphone in hand, like she’d been there all along.

“Way down inside. Woman, you need me.”

And the crowd went wild.

[samueljames]

Life On Mars, Sam/Chris, 'Don't you like me?'

[theorclair.livejournal.com]

Does this have to be an explicitly shippy fic? Because I could do something that wasn't, but if that's what you want...

[kijikun.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Dean/Castiel, "So did Jimmy have all these tats?"

[samueljames]

Criminal Minds, Hotch/Reid, Aaron let Spencer guide him to the bed.

What it is, what it isn't, FRG, Hotch/Reid

[windycitygirly.livejournal.com]

Aaron let Spencer guide him to the bed. Because SSA Hotchner no longer could find the will power to resist. Because Dr. Reid and his wiles were no match against the brittle barrier that Aaron had put up. Because... they were meant to be...?

In the end, the reason didn't really matter. Hotch no longer had a wife to care for, just a son he'd die for. Spencer was a distraction, fulfilling a function any man needed every-now-and-then. Neither did Spencer object - it's mutually agreed upon, and besides, I need a good fuck every now and then.

Except it didn't last. When it started to morph into something else, Aaron tried to call it off. They were both above that. One was a drug addict, trying to piece his life together, in the mist of so much intelligence crowding out the humanism in his brain. The other was trying to find absolution from his dead wife, who probably wouldn't have died had it not been for him. It wasn't meant to last. It wasn't meant to be more than just fucking.

But damn it if Aaron wanted to cook dinner for Spencer, and Spencer had promised Jack to read "The Jungle Book" to him at bedtime.

[kijikun.livejournal.com]

Syfy's Alice, Hatter/Alice, She's a toddler not a puppy, Hatter!"

filled

[breebree16.livejournal.com]

"She's a toddler, not a puppy Hatter!" Alice says with laughter as Molly trots back to her father and places the purple ball in his hands.

"What?" he snickers bouncing the ball in front of him. The little girl claps her hands wildly and squeals. He tosses the ball across the room and she scurries to catch it. "She loves this game."

She comes back with the ball. "Don't you, darling?"

He tosses it again and off Molly goes with a squee, comes back.

"Besides, she's a lot faster than a puppy."

[elebridith]

Angel the Series, Spike/Lindsey, It was a dark and stormy night.

[novae-ladyod.livejournal.com]

(not beta'd. As you know English’s not my mother tongue, so, apologies for any mistakes in advance... and please don’t bite my head off)


It was a dark and stormy night, when Lindsey left his apartment, headed over the street and down the block. Eve was asleep and he’d made sure that she wouldn’t wake up until morning.

A quick glance at the sky let the little hairs on his neck stand on end. This was not some average storm coming up. There was nothing average or normal about L.A. these days. The darkness practically oozed evil and the squally wind screamed of the powerful, bad things trooping up somewhere. Lindsey felt it in his bones, every fibre of his body tensed.

A little out of breath Lindsey knocked on the door to Spike’s basement flat. He had not even a heartbeat before the blonde vampire ripped the door open and looked at him.
He had said ‘no’ to Spike for almost a whole year; but not tonight. So a simple nod was all that was necessary. Spike grabbed his shirt, dragged him inside and pushed him against the barely closed door.

Unlike anyone else Spike wanted him for what he was – no ulterior motives or planes; nothing but desire.
And when he kissed him now, hard, Lindsey couldn’t help but think that, maybe, if he’d made the decision earlier, things would be different now. But it was too late.

All that mattered now was that he knew that Spike would make it an awesome night.
Same as he knew that he wouldn’t survive the battle tomorrow.

[clwilson2006.livejournal.com]

SGA. Lorne/Parrish "It's a what!!??"

[smaragdbird.livejournal.com]

"It's a what!!??" Lorne thought that McKay's voice was unnaturally grating but maybe that was just his lack of sleep talking. He found Parrish unnaturally chipper at the moment, too.
"It's a dryad." Parrish's tone made clear that he had explained this already.
"And you're letting that run around in the city?!" If McKay didn't deal it down soon Lorne might have to shoot him. Ronon, who looked just as annoyed as Lorne felt to be awake would probably let him borrow his gun for the occasion.
"It's a plant, Rodney." Parrish sounded amused: "A moving plant, yes, but only a plant. It's not even carnivorous."
"It has eyes." McKay pointed out. Lorne noticed that it was shaped like a small cat, too.
"It has eyes, it's intelligent and it only eats fungi." Parrish held out his hand and the little plant-cat climbed onto it: "You should be thankful, Deru was saving you from a yeast-infection." Parrish grinned when McKay looked disturbed.
"Just...don't let it out of your lab again."
"Sure, Rodney." Parrish replied cheerfully and scooped up the dryad: "Night."
"You know when you came back from Argos I thought you were messing with me about the plant people." Lorne said when Parrish walked over to him.
"Everyone was thinking that. Except Radek. When he heard that some of them eat fungi he asked me if I could invite them to our basement. Atlantis has quite the problem with fungi in the lower levels." They had entered a transporter but Parrish didn't press their home section but the lowest level of Atlantis.
"Don't tell me you're setting that thing free again."
"It'll be fine. Even Woolsey was okay with the project." The doors opened and Parrish set Deru down: "Have fun." He told it and the dryad leaped away.
"Let's go back to bed." Parrish yawned and gave Lorne a kiss: "You look horrible."
"No thanks to you." Lorne replied dryly. Parrish nuzzled his neck:
"Let me make it up to you."

[nevcolleil.livejournal.com]

Chuck, Chuck/Bryce and/or Chuck/Shaw or a combination:

Bryce had somehow managed to not get jealous about Chuck's lovers before - but then he hears that Daniel Shaw is on Chuck's team.

[youaredriving.livejournal.com]

It turned out a bit angsty...

Bryce had somehow managed to not get jealous about Chuck's lovers before - but then he hears that Daniel Shaw is on Chuck's team. He’s seen it all before. They way Chuck silently sits, observing the people around him until he had every corner of their soul figured out. After Chuck had them figured out, they’d be helpless beneath that soulful gaze. They’d be laid out vulnerable completely at Chuck’s mercy.

It had never bothered him before, knowing that Chuck had other lovers, other people who cared for him besides himself. But Daniel Shaw was a different story. He knows much Shaw has changed since his wife’s death. The silent determination would only serve to interest Chuck. Chuck would do what he had always done but Shaw was something dangerous; a ticking time bomb that no one wanted to admit to seeing. He wasn’t supposed to be in Chuck’s life any longer but Daniel Shaw was the one factor he hadn’t thought of.

[clwilson2006.livejournal.com]

SGA, Lorne/Parrish, "How do you always get us into trouble, Doc?"

[smaragdbird.livejournal.com]

"How do you always get us into trouble, Doc?" Lorne asked exasperatedly. For once said trouble hadn't led to angry natives chasing them off their planet - because Lorne, Parrish, Cadman and Reed were currently sitting in a tree and the angry natives tried to bring them down. Literally.
"At least I never got you kidnapped by the Genii." Parrish replied with a dark look into Lorne's direction.
"Technically if you hadn't volunteered to help Corrigan and Stackhouse that week-"Ree began but Parrish's absolutely deathly look made him shut up.
"How long do you think theyre to need to cut down the tree?" Cadman asked. Her arm was bloody because she had been hit by a spear earlier when she had tried to escape to a neighbouring tree.
"Hopefully long enough that someone comes to rescue us." Lorne answered. Sheppard was going to have a field day with this.
"And by the way I'll have you known that my track record in getting you into trouble comes only third after McKay and Corrigan." Parrish sounded testy when he said it.
"Yeah, well, it has to be hard for a botanist to get a solar system blown up." Reed grinned.
"Don't be like that," Cadman intervened:" Thanks to Davey, we're all married to each other." She grinned cheerily.
"Yeah, you never mention all the good things that happened to us thanks to me." Parrish pointed out to Lorne.
"I had to vow my firstborn to the Javarians, remember that?" Lorne asked dryly.
"Unless you're cheating on me that's not going to happen."
"Too bad, I think you two would have an awesome kid." Cadman giggled.
"I still have scars from that time the Jessen wanted to burn us because you offended their sunflower goddess." Reed reminded Parrish.
"I said I was sorry!" Parrish protested.
"Didn't stop you from touching the Drakensang's sacred plant." Cadman added.
"Its not like they had a sign that said "Touching this plant will be punished with Death"."
"Rand of Helmkin didn't like you either." Lorne continued as if Parrish hadn't said anything.
"That wasn't my fault." Parrish said adamantly. Cadman giggled again.
"It isn't!" He told her. Reed and Lorne shared mystified looks.
"Why? I thought he didn't like you because he thought you were a warlock." Lorne frowned.
"You believed that?" Cadman rolled her eyes. Both Lorne and Reed looked offended: "Do you remember the cute guy with the dark curls and the great singing voice?"
"Garrin." Parrish supplied.
"Garrin, apparently he was a bit too nice to Parrish for Rand's liking." Cadman's grin was decidedly smug and Parrish had a pleased air around him.
"I bet that never happened to McKay." Reed muttered.
"You cut off a leaf of the Marken's singing plant, too." Cadman said before Lorne could ask why Parrish had never cared to tell him the true reason they had been forced to leave Helmkin.
"I'm a botanist, remember? Messing with plants is the reason I'm on this team."
"That's what Corrigan says, too." From about three feet from them, Stackhouse seemed to stand on air. Lorne silently thanked god that it wasn't Sheppard. Stackhouse never gossiped.
"I'm not as bad as McKay." Came Corrigan's protest from inside.
"Now, where have I heard that before?" Lorne asked, grinning at Parrish.
"Bite me, Major." Parrish muttered.
"Maybe later."
"I did not need to hear that." Reed protested.
"Shush, they're your husbands, remember?" Cadman replied gleefully: "Hey, does that mean I can watch?"
"Into the Jumper Lieutenant, or we leave you here." Lorne threatened.

[jennytork.livejournal.com]

SPN, Sam + Dean, "He couldn't believe that word had just come out of Sammy's mouth -- 'bitch' was HIS insult."

[crimson-antics.livejournal.com]

SGA, John/Rodney, "This has to be an hallucination."

Fill: lawyer!AU

[nagi-schwarz.livejournal.com]

“This has to be an hallucination,” Rodney said, staring in horror. He’d come up short in the doorway, and John, checking his email on his phone, crashed into him.

“What? Rodney, come on, we have work to do.”

“No, no. This is a plague zone. Turn back, while you still can.”

John frowned and craned his neck to peer past Rodney and into the office. Where there were no attorneys, and all of the paralegals seemed to be working in slow motion. There were boxes of tissue and bottles of hand sanitizer at every vertex in the paralegal cubicles, and both were being used option. The paralegals had a stilted rhythm going. Pause. Blow nose. Dispose of tissue. Use hand sanitizer. Work. Repeat.

Lorne was slumped over at his desk, sniffling into an exquisitely-embroidered handkerchief and practically chugging a bottle of cough syrup. His eyes - bloodshot, ringed with shadows - went wide when he saw John and Rodney.

“Mr. Shepprd, Dr. McKay! Didn’t you get the message? Today’s a sick day for all of the attorneys.”

“We’re not sick,” John pointed out.

“We are,” Lorne said ruefully, and the other paralegals nodded. “We have to finish prepping for Mr. Mitchell’s trial, because it starts on Monday, but as soon as it’s done we’re going home. Mr. O’Neill told us to tell all of the senior staff to stay home.”

“We didn’t get any message,” John said. “I’ve checked my phone several times this morning.”

“As have I,” Rodney said.

Lorne wilted. “Oh dear. I must have forgotten. I’m so, so sorry. But please, go home. Chuck and Amelia will hold everyone’s calls unless it’s a judge or law enforcement.”

Rodney nodded, backing away. John had to back up with him or get knocked over. As soon as the door closed, Rodney heaved a sigh of relief.

“Thank heavens we’re being given a sick day,” he said. “Do you know how many germs those paralegals must be passing back and forth? Someone needs to put a biohazard sign on the door.”

“Did you see that the paralegals are sick?” John said. “I didn’t think it was possible for them to get sick, especially not Lorne.”

“With the way they drink and party after hours, illness was only inevitable,” Rodney said, waving a hand dismissively. “Although this does mean we should shift our bets in the ‘Lorne is a Robot’ office pool.” He started for the staff elevator. “Let’s go home. We can work from there.”

“I’d rather take a sick day - you know, lounge around, eat comfort food.” John followed Rodney into the elevator.

Rodney looked him up and down. “Yeah, there’s not going to be a lot of lounging around for you. You know what it does to me when you wear that Armani suit.”

John grinned. “I dress to impress.”

Rodney leaned in and kissed him, open-mouthed and filthy. “Oui, je sais.” He kept up a stream of steady French all the way home, and John was out of that suit in record time.

There wasn’t a lot of lounging around for the first few hours, but all in all, it was a nice sick day.

John still had the sneaking suspicion that the paralegals had been faking them out, though, so he didn’t move his bets like Rodney did. Maybe Rodney was right, and they had been hallucinating that morning. It was a damn nice hallucination, though. So when Rodney came back to bed after checking his email and moving his bets, John dragged him close and cuddled him until they both fell back to sleep.

[l3petitemort.livejournal.com]

Criminal Minds, Reid/JJ, "Yes, Sir."

[crimson-antics.livejournal.com]

SGA/SG-1, John/Cam, You should never say never.

[l3petitemort.livejournal.com]

Criminal Minds, Reid/Elle, There wasn't much that could render him speechless, but this?

[l3petitemort.livejournal.com]

Criminal Minds, Elle/Reid/JJ, "He's from Vegas. Of course he's lucky."

[eleanorb.livejournal.com]

Sherlock/Being Human, author's choice, There were twenty bodies in the carriage.

Fill - Family Troubles

[canadiangoddess.livejournal.com]

(OMG two of my favourite shows in one prompt! Oh it’s Christmas!!)

There were twenty bodies in the carriage, no discernable pattern to age or race or sex. It was bloody carnage, so severe in fact that half the CSU was vomiting in the shrubbery and the other half were praying and/or weeping.

Sherlock could not have been less pleased.

“Let’s go John, I do believe that the police can get on without us just this once.”

Seeing the remains, couldn’t think of them as people, not now, John couldn’t even make a token objection. He had enough nightmares, thank you very much, and didn’t particularly relish the idea of collecting new ones.

“What?” Lestrade sputtered, “You’re leaving? I thought this would be just your thing!”

“This?” Sherlock gestured to the mess as if it were beneath him. “I do hope your people are not so incompetent that you need me for this.”

There was nothing D.I. Lestrade could say without implying he thought his people were incompetent, so he simply sighed as Sherlock and John hurried away.

“Sherlock?” John asks when they’re finally tucked away in a cab and headed for home.

“Hmmm?”

“Why didn’t you help them? Scene like that, seems we might want to prevent that from happening again.”

Sherlock looked up from his phone for a moment, the look on his face so incredulous as to border on insulted. “I intend to ensure such a thing does not happen again John, I’m not a monster.”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

“I’ve got it well in hand John, nothing to worry about.”

To: Mycroft
From: Sherlock

Our cousins are at it again. 20 bodies in the city, noticeable exsanguination. Very big mess. Am not assisting police at this time as cover-up seems unlikely.

Tell Mitchell he still owes me 20 quid and a new skull.

~SH

[badgerling.livejournal.com]

Stargate SG-1, Daniel/Cameron, "What have you been drinking?"