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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. ;)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

eiranea.livejournal.com

Steve abhors his people even to mention the pirate's name. It seems like blasphemy to his christian mind, the man is clearly a heathen; worshipping the sea who gives him his freedom, and the gold whose siren-song calls to him from the holds of honest merchant's ships.

He's heard tell that the pirate's a handsome fellow; long dark hair that's usually tangled with wind and salt-spray, storm grey eyes, and a strong body remarkably unscarred for one of his brotherhood. Not that he has entertained any thoughts of bending that body to his will, punishing the pirate for the losses Steve has suffered at his hand, and then throwing him back to the fickle mercy of the sea.

So how is it that he finds himself on the quay at midnight, dressed in a tawdry patchwork of clothes to threadbare or stained to wear in decent company, looking for a ship captained by a certain heathen? What he'll do once he's found the ship, he doesn't know, since he's running on something pretty close to gut instinct. And when a lantern is thrust in his face and a gruff voice demanded to know who he was, he flinches back, right into the waiting arms of one of the voice's crewmen. There's a sharp pain in the back of his skull and then nothing, not even darkness.

He wakes. There's a candle burning somewhere near by, just enough light to see that he's not in his room, not even in his house. The draperies are ostentatious enough, but mismatched, and it seems as though his bed is moving. Smells start to permeate his fuddled mind, the candles are beeswax not tallow, and underlying their scent in the salt tang of the ocean. Suddenly his mind catches up. He's on a ship, the ship, Christian's ship.

Fear courses through his belly and he tries to sit up, only to find that his wrists and ankles are bound to something immoveable.

"Ah, ah, ah. Not until I've had my way with you." Comes a low voice from outside his sphere of vision. "I know you, Master Carlson, you're ships have been kind to us." He laughs. "I thought I would repay some of the generosity."

From:

havenward.livejournal.com

Oooooooooooh. I love it! So very much! And I want more...

Thank you!!

From:

eiranea.livejournal.com

Why, thank you, my dear.

I'll have to see how this week pans out, but I have ideas for the things Chris might do with a bunch of items he had pilfered from Steve's ships. So hopefully I'll get time to write it.