Friday Free For All
Apr. 15th, 2011 05:29 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
phantisma.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
comment_ficHere we are at Friday again. Time for us to let it loose and let it all hang out and party with the fic-y goodness.
Any prompt, any fandom, any pairing or no pairing, any anything...Go wild...but you still have to follow the rules.
Only 5 prompts in a row, no more than 3 per fandom, but you can always leave more once yours have been answered. No spoilers in your prompts for at least a week after air/publish date, and if you have spoilers in your fill, please warn and leave at least three spaces before your fic so people can skip it.
Remember to format your prompts properly.
Supernatural, John, shattered
White Collar, Neal/Author's Choice, giving itchy fingers something else to do
Hawaii 5-0, Steve/Danny, quarantine
If none of today's prompts are tickling your writer's palate, try some of our Lonely Prompts on for size (Yay for mixed metaphors!)
Any prompt, any fandom, any pairing or no pairing, any anything...Go wild...but you still have to follow the rules.
Only 5 prompts in a row, no more than 3 per fandom, but you can always leave more once yours have been answered. No spoilers in your prompts for at least a week after air/publish date, and if you have spoilers in your fill, please warn and leave at least three spaces before your fic so people can skip it.
Remember to format your prompts properly.
Supernatural, John, shattered
White Collar, Neal/Author's Choice, giving itchy fingers something else to do
Hawaii 5-0, Steve/Danny, quarantine
If none of today's prompts are tickling your writer's palate, try some of our Lonely Prompts on for size (Yay for mixed metaphors!)
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no subject
Date: 2011-04-15 12:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-15 12:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-15 12:30 pm (UTC)Quarantine, 1/5
Date: 2011-05-29 02:42 am (UTC)As they rose to their feet a mist blew out from the air registers near the ceiling and settled over their shoulders.
Steve had enough time to shout, “Don’t breathe it!” before he clamped his hand over his nose and mouth. Danny gave him an incredulous look but didn’t argue, covering his own face. Not a very effective mask, Steve thought, but the best they could do under the circumstances.
Welcome, Commander McGarrett, a voice said from the desk.
Steve stared, finally noticing an old-fashioned intercom.
I presume that it was you, Commander McGarrett, who discovered my little surprise. The voice was cultured, British, and undoubtedly belonged to their target, Alastair Coppersmith-Stewart, an English aristocrat with too much time on his hands and an impressive intellect which had sadly turned to evil. He was wanted in Europe as the suspected distributor of bioterror agents. He’d been in the islands for a week when Interpol finally decided to tell them about him. Five-0 hadn’t wasted any time picking up his trail and they’d been making things difficult for him over the past few days.
You’ll be the test subject for my latest little project, Coppersmith-Stewart continued. I grew weary of waiting for swine flu and avian flu to mutate on their own, so I decided to give Mother Nature a little nudge. Don’t worry . . . your suffering should be regretfully brief.
Steve and Danny exchanged another look, this one full of horror, and they both backed out of the room. Keeping his hand over his face, although he’s grimly certain it’s already too late, Steve holstered his weapon and pulled out his phone. He texted Chin as quickly as he can, Exposed to bio agent, send hazmat.
Danny slid to the floor and Steve joined him. They didn’t speak, but sit with their hands over their mouths, their shoulders just brushing. The contact was reassuring.
The spacesuit-clad bioterror people arrive finally and put respirators over Steve and Danny’s faces. Danny wrote a quick note explaining the situation and Steve could see the worried looks that the technicians exchanged even through their full head covering.
They escorted Steve and Danny down to their truck and opened the back door, gesturing for the officers to enter. They found themselves in a small cubicle and then the pressure changed against Steve’s eardrums. He assumed the door had a air tight seal. The speaker in the roof crackled to life, and Steve was tired of hearing electronic voices talk to him.
“Commander McGarrett, Sergeant Williams . . . I’m Darrell. You’re in our mobile decontamination unit.”
This voice was at least friendly, and clearly Hawaiian. Steve felt slightly better, but suspected they’re still in deep shit.
“We need you to strip and put your clothes in the plastic bags you’ll find in the drawer to the right. We’re going to give you a decom shower. It’s the best we can do until we can get you to the full quarantine facilities at Pearl,” Darrell continued.
“Okay,” Steve said.
He and Danny pulled off their TAC vests, folding the bulky Kevlar as small as it would go, and then stuffing them in the bags. They bumbled against each other because the compartment was really too small for two grown men, even if one of them was on the petite side of things.
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From:no subject
Date: 2011-04-15 12:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-15 12:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-15 12:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-15 12:36 pm (UTC)(misheard lyric from The Suffering by Coheed and Cambria)
no subject
Date: 2011-04-15 12:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-15 12:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-15 12:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-15 12:42 pm (UTC)Tell me you know, PG
Date: 2013-10-14 03:03 am (UTC)Ted is so blinded by mortification that he turns out of the bed, slips on his rumpled clothes, and is out the door without ever glancing back. It's only when he sees Barney, standing in the elevator before him, that he realizes there was no need to sneak - no great escape to be had. Sucks in a deep breath before stepping through the open doors.
"So." His voice is a higher pitch, as he gives his foot one final stomp, forcing the heel of the shoe finally over his foot, and stands with his hands folded in front of him, facing the doors studiously. "I was... Just gonna take off. For a while." He adds the last part because, well, he's not totally oblivious to people's feelings.
"Oh, well, yeah. Uh you know, that's actually interesting, because I was actually going to leave first." He can tell Barney's looking at him from the corner of his eye as he says this, because Ted is looking right back.
Eyebrows drawing together, Ted turns at his waist slightly to ask, in a hushed voice, "Barney, this is your place." As if Barney was somehow unaware.
"Uh, yeah, Ted, I know. I've done this many a time, thank you."
Lips pursed, Ted looks carefully at Barney, who is a little red at his neck, but is showing only a slight impatience at still being in the elevator with Ted. No guilt, no realization.
"You sneak out of your own apartment." It's not a question, but not really a statement either. Ted closes his eyes for a moment, and shakes his head as he turns away, shoulders slumping. "Great," he mutters under his breath, sarcastic.
"Excuse me, but it's my apartment. I think I can sneak out of it if I want to."
Ted clucks his tongue in his mouth and then looks at Barney again, one eyebrow lower than the other as he says airily, "Yes. You can. But how exactly were you going to sneak out of your apartment this morning, and continue avoiding me for the rest of your life since we have the same friends."
"Gee, Ted, I don't know," says Barney, pushing his face closer to Ted's, neck tendons straining slightly, "How were you going to?"
After looking into Barney's eyes for a long hard moment, he finally turns them up and sighs, slumping back against the elevator wall as the last 'ding' sounds before ground floor. "Right," he says, monotone. "We're both going to have to get new friends."
"No way, Ted! You can get new friends. I'm keeping ours!"
Rolling his eyes, Ted shoves his hands into his jeans, fingers digging into the edges of his keys. "I was kidding. No one's - just. Shut up, okay? There's gotta be a better way to handle this." His lips turn into a thin line as he sinks deeper into thought.
He knows the easiest way. Or is it the hardest? Shit.
"Yeah, I can't really think of anything easier for me, so..." Barney stepped out of the elevator doors, which had opened, backwards, and then smirks. "First one to MacLaren's keeps Lily, Marshall, and Robin. - Uh, bye!" And then he runs.
"Barney!"
The doors closed on Ted's face, and he was sent back up two stories while his temple throbbed.
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Date: 2011-04-15 12:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-15 12:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-15 12:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-15 12:55 pm (UTC)Dilemma (1/1)
Date: 2011-04-15 06:37 pm (UTC)It's almost the end of his trip. After the Mars incident...the Doctor is growing tired. He's not supposed to say that. He's not supposed to be tired. He knows what it means. He's felt this way before. When you start to feel tired, when the trip isn't fun anymore, well, that's when it's time to leave. To give way to another incarnation.
But this time, it's slow, drawn-out. Usually he doesn't have time to think. After all, he remembers going from his ninth incarnation to this one, the spilt second he had to save Rose, the kiss and the too-fast goodbye. Perhaps that's why he hung onto her so much in this form, not being able to say a proper farewell before. (Of course, he didn't really get a proper goodbye the second time either, but the third time had been nice. Not satisfactory, but as good as it was ever gonna get.) But this time he knows it's coming, can feel the end breathing down his neck. At least this time, he can say goodbye, he can think about the good times.
Donna hurts the most. It isn't like Rose, where they were stuck without each other. It isn't like Martha, where he couldn't give her what she wanted. With Donna, it was kind of nice to have a true friendship without any romantic longing, to be able to pal around with her sans all the weight of a deeper affection. But Donna he couldn't see. Donna he couldn't even show his face to without the risk of her dying. He saved her once. He couldn't save her again.
She wasn't a genius. She wasn't the most resourceful. But she had learned so much, became this wonderful, beautiful person because of their adventures...and now she'll never remember that person. She'll never really be that person again. She won't be the Donna he once knew. Maybe she'll be close, but it won't be her.
The Doctor wonders if she would have been better off dead. To go out in a blaze of glory with Time Lord knowledge instead of having to go back to her dull life where her true potential would go unrealized and unused. That wasn't his Donna, it was some other woman. In a way, he had murdered her. And that thought right there, that was painful enough.
And then, the Doctor thinks, it's good that he's the one going instead of Donna. He'll become someone new, find new companions. He won't feel the compulsion to come visit Donna, to wonder whether or not he should come into view, to have the powerful choice of being able to kill her and to have the dilemma of whether or not that's a bad thing at all.
Re: Dilemma (1/1)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-04-15 12:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-15 05:15 pm (UTC)"You know, I miss the days where you would kiss me on the cheek; I remember them well"
"I've never kissed you on the cheek"
"Oops, spoilers..."
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-04-15 12:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-15 12:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-15 12:58 pm (UTC)No fic, but...
Date: 2011-04-15 01:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-15 01:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-15 01:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-15 01:05 pm (UTC)Fill: Come and See! (1/2)
Date: 2011-10-09 03:14 am (UTC)Come and See!
Joe laughed out loud when “Adam” was ushered into the room. Even Mac looked flummoxed. The vampires merely looked blank as only vampires can.
The old man was dressed as some kind of Bedouin shaman with not an inch of visible skin. “Adam Pierson” had died years ago, and Mac only had an anonymous email to contact the old man, but it looked like his new identity was in traditional Arabia somewhere. If the robes, gloves, headscarf and face veil weren’t all the color of sand and practically radiating desert mysticism, Joe would have teased him of cross-dressing as a devote Muslim woman. Or perhaps if Methos weren’t so damn eerie looking standing there with no visible humanity.
“Who did this to you, Joe?” The question reverberated with rage and Joe’s laughter abruptly stopped.
Mac had taken Joe’s turning so well, been pleased to have an immortal Watcher, to not have to watch his friend age and die, that Joe hadn’t thought that Methos would react any differently. But of course, in the old man’s life he must have had friends unwillingly turned. Joe, the new vampire, spoke reassuringly, “It was at my request. It wasn’t painful.” He blushed; “It was actually rather pleasant. And my, er, sire has agreed to finance a new blues bar for me.”
“You chose this?” The disgust in that voice was like a slap and Joe flinched back from it.
Methos reached up and undid something so that his face-veil draped to one side, leaving his young angled face visible. Although Joe knew he hadn’t done anything to feel guilty about, he couldn’t quite make himself look at his friend’s face.
Looking away, though, he looked at the other vampires in the room. They were also drawing back, the older ones hissing in dismay.
With his peripheral vision, he could see that Methos’ skin was more tanned than it had been as Adam Pierson, but it had nonetheless begun to glowed with a pure white luminosity.
“My good friend Joe Dawson,” the saccharine sweetness covered bitterness in the voice made Joe shudder but he still couldn’t look at that light. “Won’t you look at me? How about greet me with a handshake or perhaps a kiss on each cheek?”
It was Mac who said what they were all thinking. “You’re glowing like a cross?! But just being a priest or shaman or whatever you are right now doesn't do that.”
“Of course not. But I'm in a bloody Bible verse! One of God’s foretold harbingers of the apocalypse! Cassandra told you and I confirmed it. You knew.” He accused Mac. “And you let these things take Joe!”
Fill: Come and See! (2/2)
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From:no subject
Date: 2011-04-15 01:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-15 01:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-15 01:07 pm (UTC)