Sunday Free For All

[idiosyncratic.livejournal.com]

It's Sunday, so that means the floor is open!

Anything goes -- any fandom, any pairing/grouping, any prompt.  From schmoop to kink and everything in between.

In order to help our code monkeys, please remember to format your prompts properly:

For single fandom: Fandom, pairing, word/phrase
Example: BHD, Hoot/Eversmann, late

For a Crossover: Fandom/Fandom, pairing, word/phrase
Example: BDS/SPN, Murphy/Dean, belief

Ready?  Go!


Also? Don't forget about our lonely prompts. Check 'em out, try something new, have fun. Who knows...you might find a new fandom. ;)

Comments

[saavikam77.livejournal.com]

When the heavy darkness of sedation finally clears his head, Sylar finds himself bound in a chair with thick, wet ropes, surrounded by sigils, candles, and a ring of salt all carefully placed around him. A sharp laugh escapes him as he glances up at the worn-out-looking man standing before him.

"You think this will hold me?" he sneers.

The man stops in his recitation of some old Latin chant and looks up from the book in his hands, his eyes wary and frightened, a prey animal if ever Sylar has seen one. "Christo," he says, his voice gruff and tired, and he lifts an open flask of something and splashes its contents out over Sylar's face.

It's just water.

"What the hell are you?" the man asks, eyes even wider.

Sylar laughs again, deeper this time. "Well, I'm certainly no specimen, here for your amusement. But you--" he goes on, the ropes unknotting and slipping away from his wrists and ankles to drop to the floor, "--you could be just that for me."

Standing, he flicks a wrist, and the man flies back to be pinned against a dingy wall, the book and the flask falling forgotten to the floor. Sylar steps over the line of salt, squeezing one hand into a fist and watching the man start to choke.

"Simply put," he says cavalierly, "I'm your worst nightmare, and you are just another toy for me to take apart. Whether there's anything of interest to me in there, well, I suppose we'll just have to see."

When he lifts a hand, index finger pointed, the man only manages a gurgled scream.

Sylar grins darkly.