Monday: Seven
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enochia and it’s my first time hosting. Today is Monday and the first theme for this week is “seven”. Seven is the number that has significance in many cultures. Anything related goes: seven words, sins and/or virtues, colours of the rainbow, a week, Seven of Nine, Seventh Doctor, Henry VII.
Give your prompts according to these rules:
- No more than three prompts in one fandom
- No more than five prompts in a row unless one of your prompts is filled. Then you can prompt again.
- No spoilers in prompts
- If your fill contains spoilers, please warn and leave plenty of space
Please keep the codemonkeys in mind and obey formatting rules:
Fandom, Character, Prompt
Fandom, Character/Character, Prompt
Fandom, Character + Character, Prompt
Examples:
Sherlock Holmes, Holmes + Watson, seven times no one was arrested
Rurouni Kenshin, Aoshi/Megumi, there was only one week for them
any, any, Seven Devils
If there is nothing that catches your fancy, take a look at the lonely prompts.
tag=seven
enochia and it’s my first time hosting. Today is Monday and the first theme for this week is “seven”. Seven is the number that has significance in many cultures. Anything related goes: seven words, sins and/or virtues, colours of the rainbow, a week, Seven of Nine, Seventh Doctor, Henry VII.Give your prompts according to these rules:
- No more than three prompts in one fandom
- No more than five prompts in a row unless one of your prompts is filled. Then you can prompt again.
- No spoilers in prompts
- If your fill contains spoilers, please warn and leave plenty of space
Please keep the codemonkeys in mind and obey formatting rules:
Fandom, Character, Prompt
Fandom, Character/Character, Prompt
Fandom, Character + Character, Prompt
Examples:
Sherlock Holmes, Holmes + Watson, seven times no one was arrested
Rurouni Kenshin, Aoshi/Megumi, there was only one week for them
any, any, Seven Devils
If there is nothing that catches your fancy, take a look at the lonely prompts.
tag=seven
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2012-07-30 07:45 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2012-07-30 08:55 am (UTC)Fill: "A Quest of Thieves"
Date: 2012-07-30 01:38 pm (UTC)“We’re going to get caught,” Hoggle grumbled.
“Shh, Sir Hoggle!” Didymus frowned at his friend. “We will escape forthwith!”
“Jareth’s going to find out,” Hoggle went on, as if Didymus hadn’t spoken at all. “And he’ll turn us upside-down in the Bog of Eternal Stench for stealing these swords!”
Didymus didn’t find that to be a punishment, particularly; the Bog was a refreshing place, after all! But still, he needed to guard the bridge, and to do so, he needed a sword. He took one of the seven swords, admiring the heft and swing of it, though realized it was a bit heavy for him, and replaced it to lift the next sword. “It is not stealing,” he said, “it is borrowing. Our King told me to take what I needed. I,” he flourished the sword, “need this!”
“Will you hurry,” Hoggle whispered, glancing around frantically.
Thinking that perhaps he should have had Sir Ludo enter this storeroom with him, rather than Hoggle, Didymus chose the fourth sword on the wall, realizing he’d gotten a perfect fit. Much, much better than the previous three; light and responsive, and suited to his height! This sword was best out of all seven on the wall. “I am ready!”
Hoggle waited for nothing else, scrambling out of the small bolt hole Didymus had discovered in his explorations. Sighing, he sheathed the sword and fastened it on his back. “Really, Sir Hoggle, if you will do not but complain, next time, I shan’t ask for your assistance at all!”
“Good!” came the response.
Really, Didymus thought, sometimes it didn’t pay to ask friends to attend a quest at all.
Re: Fill: "A Quest of Thieves"
From:Re: Fill: "A Quest of Thieves"
From:Re: Fill: "A Quest of Thieves"
From:Re: Fill: "A Quest of Thieves"
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Date: 2012-07-30 08:59 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2012-07-30 10:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-30 10:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-30 11:11 am (UTC)The Seven Stages of Grief in Fast-forward
Date: 2012-07-31 01:34 am (UTC)Dean wished he felt something instead of just numb. Sam had always talked about leaving, but Sam had said lots of thing that Dean was sure he didn't really mean.
He spent that first day just sitting there, staring at nothing, unless there was a noise outside the door, then his focus would snap to the entrance like steel filings to a magnet.
Sam didn't mean it right? Any time now he'd come back through that door. Any time now...
Day 2: Pain & Guilt
Sam hadn't just taken his clothes and other favorite belongings--he'd taken vital parts of Dean. The gaping void Sam left behind throbbed like a phantom limb. Dean cursed himself for ever lamenting the numbness because that was infinitely preferable to this bone deep hurt.
Maybe if he'd said something more, something different during that last huge dust-up between Sam and Dad. He'd been a buffer between them for years and it had never come to this.
Day 3: Anger & Bargaining
Dean hadn't said much to his father the last two days because he hadn't had anything to say. Now though, now he couldn't squeeze any words past the lump of pure rage in his throat. Dad and Sam never did know when to back down, stop pushing each other's buttons, but Sam was just a stupid kid--Dad should know better.
He'd give anything to have Sam back here with him. He'd even give up teasing Sam about his long, girly hair, stupid taste in music, the fact that even when he wasn't researching he always had a book around. Hell, Dean might even finally stop calling him "Sammy," since he said he hated it so much.
Day 4: Depression, Reflection, Loneliness
Dad had gone off to do... something; Dean couldn't remember what he'd actually said, wasn't really listening. At any rate, he was happy to be left alone. For all the talking he and Dad weren't doing, it had kind of felt like he was alone while his father had still been there.
It was kind of funny how the isolation felt good because Dean normally hated being alone. Sammy had always been there, whether it was as a snotty little burden that needed watching, or a buddy to watch lame movies with, or the best damn back-up on a hunt Dean had ever met, Dad included.
Day 5: The Upward Turn
Dean was stunned to realize he had woken up, eaten breakfast, and gotten half-way through the local paper without Sam crossing his mind. The hole was still there, stupid kid took up a ridiculous amount of space with his ginormous self, but it was hurting a little less.
Then Dad called and said he'd found what sounded like it might be a hunt. Dean expected to be indifferent, but somehow he wasn't. In fact, maybe a hunt was just what he needed...
Day 6: Reconstruction & Working Through
Sam usually did the brunt of the research on the family hunts, but Sam wasn't here, Dad was out in the field, and somebody had to do it. It wasn't like Dean hadn't done it before.
He was definitely gonna miss pawning this stuff off on Sammy, had always been more of a man of action, but he could cope.
Day 7: Acceptance & Hope
When he reported his research results to Dad, the old man said he could handle it on his own and relayed a message about a potential salt and burn some other hunter had passed on to him. Dean agreed to take it.
As he took off down the highway in the Impala, he looked over at the empty passenger seat and it didn't hurt quite as bad as he thought it might.
Hey, college wasn't forever, right? Besides, there were probably loads of hunts in California if he looked for them...
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Date: 2012-07-30 11:12 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2012-07-30 11:24 am (UTC)Looking Ahead (Harry Potter, Hermione/Ron, T, 1/2)
Date: 2012-07-30 10:39 pm (UTC)An old, ratty trunk was open a few yards from the trap door, past the bags of outgrown school robes and a dress form Ron didn't even recognize. Hermione was sitting on a stack of textbooks, poring over a pile of scrolls. The oldest ones were beginning to yellow at the edges.
Ron picked his way around the junk and crouched next to her. "Hey," he probed gently, "what's up?"
"For someone who wasn't even trying, you had a remarkably good hit rate," she replied.
"Huh?" Ron's cheeks burned - it bugged him more than he let on that his wife was always three steps ahead of him. Good thing she had so many other good qualities. He leaned over and saw that she was holding one of his old papers from Divinations class. "Why on earth are you bothering with that old mess? We should have burned it years ago," he pointed out.
"Maybe," she mused, "but I remember reading over some of these for Harry, and he was terrible at it." Her finger fell to a line about halfway down the roll. "Whereas so far you've been around 75% correct, allowing for a certain amount of interpretation, which pretty much everyone does as far as this stuff is concerned."
"Why are you even worried about it?" Ron looked at her strangely. "I thought you thought all this was a load of tosh."
"I did until all that nonsense about Trelawney's two prophesies," Hermione agreed. "I still do, mostly. But you do this around the house, too, sometimes."
"Do what?" Ron was getting more and more bewildered.
"Toss off a joking comment about something, and then it turns out to be completely right, allowing, again, for a certain amount of interpretation," she explained. Her eyes narrowed. "How many older siblings did your father have again?"
"Nine," Ron answered, "Three sisters and six brothers, although I've only met two - the older ones were blown up by a bomb during that big Muggle war. Why?"
"So he is a seventh son," Hermione said triumphantly.
"Well, yeah." Ron drew up his knees. "I asked about that when I was five, if my parents were disappointed that Ginny was a girl, 'cause if she'd been a seventh son then she'd have had the second sight." His mouth quirked up at the memory. "Mum bloody near laughed in my face, said she was just relieved to finally have a little girl. Then she realized that might have made me feel like she wished I'd been a girl, and gave me an extra biscuit to make it up to me."
Hermione set down the scroll she was holding and picked up the next one, scanning it. "What did your Dad say?" she asked, gently.
Ron frowned. "Not much. Said that was an old tradition, and no one really knew whether it was true, not even the Ministry."
"And your brothers?" Hermione tapped at a couple of words with her fingernail.
Looking Ahead (Harry Potter, Hermione/Ron, T, 2/2)
From:Re: Looking Ahead (Harry Potter, Hermione/Ron, T, 2/2)
From:Re: Looking Ahead (Harry Potter, Hermione/Ron, T, 2/2)
From:Re: Looking Ahead (Harry Potter, Hermione/Ron, T, 2/2)
From:no subject
Date: 2012-07-30 11:26 am (UTC)Smells Like Team Bonding (Gen, Tony+Avengers, PG)
Date: 2012-08-03 01:43 pm (UTC)red
“It’s a great color for a suit!” Tony protested, hugging the specs to his chest protectively.
“You’re a flying target.” Steve said, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest. “Bright speck of red in the sky, doesn’t take much to aim for.”
“Says the man with a bullseye painted on his shield.” Tony huffed, his blueprints disappearing with a virtual shimmer. “Com’on Mark VII, let’s go show off to someone who appreciates us.”
orange
“No.” Tony slapped the dried orange peel out of Thor’s hand. “That’s potpourri, not food.”
Yellow
“That’s … unexpected.” Tony sagged against the doorway, abandoning his plan of walking by casually as if he hadn’t been secretly checking out Natasha’s room.
Which was painted a cheerful, nursery-themed yellow.
“I like the color.” Natasha said, raising an eyebrow in Tony’s direction as she continued shelving her books. “You said we could redecorate our living spaces …”
“No, I mean, that’s awesome. Whatever you want,” Tony babbled. “I was just expecting more of a Batcave chic, maybe like secret caches of weapons-“
Natasha slid another book into place and the entire bookcase folded outwards, revealing a wall of machine guns, rifles, and knives of frightening proportions. “You were saying?” She asked, but by then Tony had already skittered away in fear.
green
“You tell anyone, you die.” Clint said, waving a trowel in Tony’s general direction.
“What’s with all these death threats against my person?” Tony complained, flopping down on grass. “They are not appreciated. Also, you do know that you are outside. In the open. As in anyone could see you anyways.”
Clint shrugged, returning to packing mulch under his holly bushes. “There’s witnessing an event which may or may not retain plausible deniability and then there is verbally recanting one’s observations. Any lawyer can tell you the difference. As in, if a witness goes mysteriously missing before their testimony at a murder trial, the observation may as well never happened.”
“I don’t like this, Sam I Am,” Tony scowled, “I don’t like these death threats and ham.”
blue
Tony bumped into Coulson in the hallway, and then remained stuck on him, groping his sweater for a long moment. “This is cashmere!” he finally accused.
“Stop that,” Coulson said mildly, slapping at Tony’s hands. “You’re stretching it out.” He stepped past Tony and continued walking down the hallway.
Tony followed him into the kitchen. “No way you bought that yourself, not with a SHIELD salary. And the style screams female influencebecause straight guys don’t suddenly come to the conclusion that baby blue is just ‘their thing’. Of the few, few women in your life, that ‘cellist in Portland’ included – and yeah I did airquotes around that because if even I can’t dig up dirt on her – the only one with enough money and taste-“ Tony gasped, slamming his fist against the kitchen counter.
Coulson poured himself a cup of coffee, leaning a hip against the counter as he sipped it.
”Why did Pepper buy you a sweater? Acquaintances don’t buy acquaintances sweaters!”
“Great job, Sherlock.” Coulson said drily. “She’s moved in to my room at the Tower and we’ve been living together for two months, but yes, do go on.”
indigo
“Wow.” Tony said in the silence of the debriefing room. “Judging by the color of Fury’s face I would say that he’s either really, really angry or just ate a piece of Wonka gum and is in the process of turning into a giant blueberry.”
purple
“What is this feeling?” Tony said, pressing a hand over his chest as he walked into the living room. Natasha was curled up on the couch next to Bruce, both cradling cups of tea. Clint and Thor were taking turns shooting grapes into each other’s mouths. Clint got most of his in Thor’s mouth. Thor’s throws mostly ended up splattering on the floor or the far wall. “Is this domesticity?”
“Shut up and hand over the popcorn.” Natasha said, and Tony did, even though she was rude.
“Hey!” Tony exclaimed, his head whipping to the front of the room. “Who let Steve near the DVD player?”
no subject
Date: 2012-07-30 11:29 am (UTC)