Thursday | Pre-Series
Oct. 8th, 2009 07:03 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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comment_ficToday's theme is Pre-Series. We all know what happens in canon, but if your character doesn't have a detailed backstory, now is your chance to go wild! Let your creativity loose.
Please remember not to leave more than five prompts in a row and no more than three per fandom per prompter. You are, of course allowed to come back later and add more once yours have been answered.
If either the prompt or the fic contains spoilers please mark it clearly and leave at least three spaces before the prompt/fic.
Don't forget to format your prompts correctly, for example:
Dollhouse, Echo/Sierra, study buddies
House, House and his original fellows, job interviews
Supernatural/Author's choice, Sam/Dean/author's choice, fight
If you can't find the perfect prompt for you here, don't forget to check out the Lonely Prompts! There are loads of wonderful prompts just begging to be written!
[theme tag=Preseries]
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no subject
Date: 2009-10-08 11:04 am (UTC)Dollhouse, Echo/Sierra
Date: 2009-10-08 07:31 pm (UTC)One quick phonecall, and later that day she met a pretty Asian girl, who introduced herself as Driya, outside the campus library. They made small talk for a few minutes as they walked inside and found an unoccupied table.
The study session was unremarkable in most respects, though Caroline wondered, privately, why Driya was even taking the class – psych didn’t really seem to be her strong point at all. But she was pleasant company, and after an hour or so they abandoned their books and turned to talking about themselves. When the time came for them to part, and each head to their separate dorms, they said ‘see you later’, thinking that they might arrange another study session soon… but Caroline’s next few weeks were busy with classes and friends and Leo, the guy she’d met at a friend’s party, and soon Driya became someone that she smiled at in the street.
Summer vacation began, and she promised herself that she’d reconnect with Driya next year – but when the semester began, she returned to college and heard that the other girl had dropped out because of some ‘family circumstances’ that no-one seemed to know much about.
Years later, two young women named Echo and Sierra live in a secret world under LA, and gravitate to one another because somehow, they feel safe together.
Re: Dollhouse, Echo/Sierra
From:no subject
Date: 2009-10-08 11:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-08 11:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-08 11:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-08 11:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-08 11:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-08 11:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-08 11:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-08 11:21 am (UTC)Unique Interview, CSI Las Vegas, Greg Sanders, 1/2
Date: 2009-10-11 08:07 pm (UTC)Greg is as nervous as hell, dressed in sneakers, dress pants and an orange and green shirt. He's also as tired as hell; it's been days since he slept. Too nervous.
"Mr. Sanders I presume?" This guy in a suit asks him and Greg rises to his feet, his hands already a little sweaty.
"Yep, that's me. Greg Sanders is my name. But you can call me Greg." Greg rambles. "Where do you want me?" The man just glares at him.
"My name is Ecklie. Follow me." The guy answers, clipped and precise. Greg follows him, not to an interview room, but to another lab where there is a man lost in a book about bugs. Greg represses a shiver. "Oi, Grissom. New recruit is here. I need you to sit in the interview."
"No." Grissom replies.
"No?" Ecklie echoes, irritation clearly evident in his voice and Greg feels more than a little uncomfortable.
"No. I'm busy. You do the interview. You're better at that kind of thing." is Grissom's reply.
"But the position is for a lab tech on nights, we've still got our day tech, you haven't managed to drive them away yet." Ecklie argues.
"So interview him, if he's any good, you keep him and I'll take the day tech." Grissom shrugs.
"Excuse me, sir, but you've at least got to give me a chance before you dismiss me." Greg tells him, faltering a little as Grissom actually looks at him for the first time. Grissom puts his book down.
"Fine." Grissom tells him, making Greg's nervousness crank up a notch. "Follow me." Ecklie and Greg do so, surprised when they end up at the DNA lab. "Work your magic."
"Grissom, are you crazy?" Ecklie demands.
"But these are active cases." Greg announces.
"If you don't feel like you can handle it, you can leave right now." Grissom gives him an ultimatum.
"No sweat, just give me a sec to familiarise myself with this and I'll, anything you want me to process first? Do you mind if I listen to some tunes, it helps me work?" Greg presses play on his pocket CD player, only putting one of the headphones into his ear. Grissom winces at the tinny screaming that comes from the loose headphone but Greg does start working.
"Why do you think we should hire you to be a Las Vegas Crime Lab Technician?" Ecklie asks.
"What?"
"I said-"
"I heard you, I just..." Greg looks at Grissom, who raises his eyebrows and his lips twists into an almost smirk. Greg chuckles and answers Ecklie's question, all the while his hands still working, firing up the machine. "I'm qualified, eager and hard working. This is all I've ever wanted to do since I was a kid."
"What makes you so certain that you would 'fit in' here?" Ecklie asks.
"It's not a question of fitting in; it's a question of producing answers. You give me a job to do and I'll do it. Evidence without context can be frustrating but I'm sure I'll make friends who will fill me in. Off-duty of course." It continued like that for some time, Ecklie bombarding him with question whilst Greg worked the evidence. After about an hour or so, Greg handed Grissom a small mountain of papers. "I hope you've got your case breaker in there."
"Hmmmmmm..." Grissom replies thoughtfully, walking away in a daze. Greg is intrigued but before he has a chance to voice this, Grissom returns for just a second. "Go grab a soda in the break room. I'll be with you later about your employment." Then he's gone.
Unique Interview, CSI Las Vegas, Greg Sanders, 2/2
From:Re: Unique Interview, CSI Las Vegas, Greg Sanders, 2/2
From:Re: Unique Interview, CSI Las Vegas, Greg Sanders, 2/2
From:no subject
Date: 2009-10-08 11:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-08 11:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-08 11:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-08 11:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-08 11:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-08 11:45 am (UTC)Leverage, author's choice/Eliot, I can teach you how to defend yourself.
Date: 2009-10-08 02:36 pm (UTC)He’d had hopes that someone would remember his twelfth birthday. It was stupid, he knew, hopes were just pipe dreams. His old man had told him that too many times to count but he had hoped that maybe his dad; if not his new step-momma would remember.
His dad was too drunk to remember anything. He’d been laid off, again, and this time, it might be for good, the factory closing permanently. So yeah, his birthday had been rough but that was three days ago, and he figured he looked good enough now to make it to school. He’d managed through, keeping his head down and his story straight. (I jumped off the roof to see if I could fly.) He was a little offended that people thought he was that stupid but whatever. His eye was bloodshot, and the purple was turning yellow and green, but at least he could open it. His ribs might only be bruised and not broken like he’d first thought. He walked past the pawn shops and strip clubs heading towards the local convenience store; he wanted a soda and maybe a candy bar.
He was too busy looking down; he walked right into a man. “S…S…Sorry, I was just…” he didn’t look up.
The guy, big hands, dark hair, kind eyes lifted Eliot’s chin and then tilted his head into the sun. “What happened to you, boy?” his voice was deep, a little scary.
“Tried to fly off the roof.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “They believin’ that?”
Eliot shoved his hands in his pockets. “Mostly I think they want to.”
“Damn fools. Come with me.”
“I’m goin’ to get a pop, and I don’t know you.”
Man nodded. “Fair enough. See that place right behind you?”
Eliot looked at the sign, Goodwell Jujitsu and Kickboxing Academy and nodded.
“Come in once you’ve got your pop. I can teach you how to defend yourself.”
Eliot wanted to argue about how much bigger his dad was, how much meaner. How it only took one blow to bring him down but he looked up instead and asked the man sincerely. “Can you teach me, for real?”
He nodded and Eliot turned to follow him. “Don’t want the candy so much I guess”
It didn’t happen all at once, but three months later, when his father tried to lay a messy right cross against his jaw Eliot ducked and fought back and for the first time in his life. His anger worked for him.
Re: Leverage, author's choice/Eliot, I can teach you how to defend yourself.
From:Re: Leverage, author's choice/Eliot, I can teach you how to defend yourself.
From:no subject
Date: 2009-10-08 11:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-08 11:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-08 08:53 pm (UTC)He likes remembering the early days. Light, too bright, and eyes meeting across a crowded room, smirking, knowing exactly what the other ways thinking. It was a secret, and everyone loves a secret. Significant touches that no one else would understand. Power, he had, to make someone blush and groan and sigh. All his, everything was his.
He hates remembering the later days. He hates remembering the first time he looked across the room to see him on the arm of some blond. He hates the hasty explanation in a back hallway, because apparently he never seemed serious enough. Because apparently it was all just a "friend thing" (whatever that means).
He hates remembering the feeling of powerlessness, the complete loss of everything good. He hates the emptiness.
He hates the indignation. Because he's the emperor! And that isn't how things should work. He hates remembering the darkness, and how even though it was never quite as good, the nights would so often be the same, just faster, more purposeful. He hates that in the end he was left alone.
Most of all he hates Arram Draper.
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2009-10-08 11:54 am (UTC)not fic yet
Date: 2009-10-09 01:35 am (UTC)Re: not fic yet
From:no subject
Date: 2009-10-08 11:55 am (UTC)Secrets Between Plants and Child [Sky High, Gen, Layla]
Date: 2009-12-16 04:00 am (UTC)Then one day her mother sees her talking to a plant. Layla will never forget the look in her mothers eyes or the way she seemed to just collapse into herself as she started to sob.
It's not until years later when she sees everyone she loves about to die that she understands her mothers tears. As long as she didn't have powers her mother would never have to see her sacrifice herself for a civilian, her mother would never have to see her die for the "greater good" and accept it as her lot in life.
Re: Secrets Between Plants and Child [Sky High, Gen, Layla]
From:no subject
Date: 2009-10-08 11:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-08 11:58 am (UTC)Supernatural, outside pov of Winchesters--the difference ten years can make in thos
Date: 2009-10-08 02:48 pm (UTC)Ten years
I have to admit I was always worried, even if sometimes, there didn’t seem to be a need. Sometimes they were just, sloppy, I give John credit for raising hunters, good ones, but they didn’t start out good, and not just the boy.
Sammy was a natural, more talent than Dean, but Dean, he was a soldier, through and through, daddy’s grunt, and that paid off. When I see him now, I don’t see any of the fear, or over enthusiasm, or just sloppy mistakes that got made back when Sam was thirteen, and John thought he might end up losing them both after a run in with a particularly nasty poltergeist.
But John managed to get them both to safety and patch them up, and my help, well, it was there because I had reason to be there for the boys.
John wanted them to be the best there ever was and he did it too. He did it, because god damn if that isn’t the fucking Colt, and if Dean wasn’t right, all those years ago, before he was even born when he told me he was the one who killed me.
I’m dying, because ten years ago, this was a rag tag unit, and now… well what a difference ten years made in those boys.
Re: Supernatural, outside pov of Winchesters--the difference ten years can make in thos
From:Re: Supernatural, outside pov of Winchesters--the difference ten years can make in thos
From:Re: Supernatural, outside pov of Winchesters--the difference ten years can make in thos
From:Re: Supernatural, outside pov of Winchesters--the difference ten years can make in thos
From:Re: Supernatural, outside pov of Winchesters--the difference ten years can make in thos
From:Re: Supernatural, outside pov of Winchesters--the difference ten years can make in thos
From:no subject
Date: 2009-10-08 11:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-08 03:13 pm (UTC)Logan slowly clambered to his feet. He was shaking all over.
Off in the distance, the Cascade Mountains -- now the Cascade Volcanoes -- were in full eruption. Forests the size of counties were ablaze. The atmosphere was clogged with dust, smoke, and debris. During the day, the sun was as black as sack cloth, and at night the moon was blood red. There were only a few human survivors left on the ruined Earth.
It was the End of Days, but there was no sign of God.
It was hard to breath, both because of the smoke and the heat, but Logan took a deep breath anyway. After all, he probably wouldn't have many more. Then he looked down. Erik Lehnsherr was dead -- gutted by Logan's claws. His blood, which looked just as red as any human's, was being greedily drunk by the parched ground.
Then Logan heard something behind him. He turned his head and saw the woman who had slain the world.
"Daddy?" Jean said in a small voice. There were tears were in her eyes.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2009-10-08 12:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-08 12:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-08 12:55 pm (UTC)