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Name me a fandom (NOT Supernatural)*. Give me a prompt - max. five words. I'll see what I can do?
*Bonus points for thinking outside the usual boxes, apologies (and two replacement prompts) if you pick something I either don't know or can tell from the word go I can't write.
*Bonus points for thinking outside the usual boxes, apologies (and two replacement prompts) if you pick something I either don't know or can tell from the word go I can't write.
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Thor/SGA: Loki lands in Pegasus Galaxy
Replacement (so you can choose whichever your Muse desires):
PotC/Good Omens: Fountain of Youth, Crowley's fault.
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Don't mind at all :-)
"Well, that didn't go according to plan..."
"It has been my experience, that Mr. Sparrow does tend to have that effect."
The look the serpent spares the soul is by now less of a you again and more of a "And where did you get off to, then?"
"Some dear friends of mine were involved in the skirmish. I went to offer them my most sincere condolences."
"Didn't feel like going with them?"
"They did most kindly extend an invitation, and I confess, I was sorely tempted, but - I have one more apology yet to make."
A tiny, brightly coloured bird - like a living gem - flies across the clearing. The serpent watches it disappear into the pond.
"Speaking of Mr. Sparrow - if I may be so bold as to enquire, why do you persue him with such - determination?"
"What's it to you?"
"It is simply that I have some small personal experience with the dangers of getting obsessed with such matters."
"Well, don't worry about me - it's nothing personal. It's just - my superiors have issues with people escaping them."
"In that case, surely Mr. Barbossa would be equally deserving of your attentions?"
"Nah, there's no need - he's already well on his way back Below. But Mr. Sparrow, now - he's a problem. First there was that business with the heart and the Turner boy, and now this. If we're not careful - well. We can't be having damned souls running around redeeming themselves - it's just not done."
"Indeed."
Not for the first time the serpent laments its current lack of eyebrows to raise in the face of overly sarcastic souls. In the end, it settles for sticking out its tongue.
"Where'd the little bugger run off to, anyway?"
"I believe he is en route for a long awaited reunion."
"With his toy ship."
"A bittersweet reunion, I fear."
"Interesssting..."
The soul twitches.
The serpent does not deign to notice.
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Replacement prompts, yes?
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SPN/Indiana Jones -- That's not the True Cross
DoctorWho/Transformers -- Saving stranded aliens a specialty.
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"Yeah, well, you can give one an anonymous tip or something once we've found what we're looking for," and he looks back down, frowning slightly at the piece of paper in his hands before deciding that a rejection of tenure letter is probably not what's keeping the ghost around.
"Dean?" and he looks back at up at his brother looking at the corner where the huge woden cross stands, old and suspiciously stained, a fedora dangling jauntily from one sidebar and an old bullwhip curled around the top. Sam is staring at the thing.
"Sam, stop it, okay, it's getting ridiculous. That box in the basement was not the Ark of the Covenant and that's not the Cross. Tell him, Cas."
The falling angel looks up from where he's been busily opening and peering into some Egyptian-looking figurines.
"That's not the True Cross, Sam," he says as he stands. Then he tilts his head, consideringly. "It is the Cross of Saint Peter. Though for some reason it appears to be upside down."
Surprisingly, it's Sam who recovers from the predictable jaw-dropping first, stepping forth to grab hold of the hat.
"I was going to say that I thought it might be this we're looking for," and he flips it over, peers inside.
"What, like some hairs stuck in it or something?"
"Yeah."
A movement catches his eye just in time for him to shout a warning as the bullwhip uncoils and strikes, snakelike, ripping the fedora out of Sam's grip.
"You know what, Sam?"
"What?"
"I think you might be on to something," he shouts, fumbling for his shotgun.
The ghost just grins, as it raises the whip once more...
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"Because Bobby wanted us to check out a possible hunt."
"Yeah, I got that part - but why not call some local hunter? It's not exactly our usual stomping grounds."
"Apparently he tried, but for some reason he never got further than the "haunted car" part before they hung up on him..."
"Huh."
* * *
"Cas?"
"Yes, Dean?"
"Are you absolutely sure Gabriel's not back from the dead?"
"Yes, Dean. Why do you ask?"
"It's just, this hunt we're on feels more like one of his fake realities than our usual hunts. I keep waiting for him to pop up and laugh his ass off."
***
The police car unfolded, sharp metal edges whirling through the air as the thing arose, all blazing red eyes and wicked claws, and advanced on them.
"Ghost car, my ass!"
Dean scrabbled for his shotgun, even knowing that it wouldn't be much use against something this size, but still, he had to try something. Anything.
Except...
Except then the thing stopped.
***
"I'm just saying, following a police car with To Punish And Enslave on the side into the desert might not have been the smartest idea we've ever had."
***
It was a ghost.
It was a jittery, silvery, dancing thing, like a cellphone that had somehow metastated into something else, flickering in and out of existence.
It was silent. Silent as the grave. Somehow that was the part that felt most wrong.
***
"How the hell are we supposed to burn that?!"
"Napalm?"
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"Napalm?"
*cackles with glee* Ha! I love this.
(Can't believe I forgot to comment on this. 'Tis much amusing.)
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