commentdrabblefest

[severedscythe]

Cause I'm gonna be gone for a while, I want some prompts to come back to.

Veterans of my journal know the drill but for you new folk:

Leave a fandom, a pairing and a prompt and I'll write a comment fic/drabble for it. Eg; dragon age 2, hawke/isablela, badonkadonk butt. Or something.

Have at. May draw stupid pictures to accompany it.

Comments

Sure, why not?

[mongoose_bite]

Dragon Age 2, Orsino/Anyone, somebody stop that mage before he does something stupid.

Re: Sure, why not?

[severedscythe]

It'll only take a moment, he thinks, pressing the edge of the blade against his skin. Only a moment. One swift jerk and the intent behind it (it was always about intent, never about the blood, why couldn't she understand that) and he'd have the courage to stand in front of the crowd, knowing that a demon rode at his back.

All it would take was a flick of the wrist and the power would slide under his skin and take root there, growing into his heart and squeezing until he couldn't tihnk about anything but the taste of copper and the sun, beating down on the back of his neck.

Hawke stood up beside him, took the blade from his fingers and pressed a kiss to his jaw.

"You don't need that."

[middlemarching]

I'm dying to see some one-sided, borderline obsessive Meredith/F!Hawke pining action.

[severedscythe]

Meredith doesn't pine.

Meredith observes. Cullen's always been a little afraid of her; she's both single and bloody minded, always looking for an abomination around every corner. He's concerned when Meredith hones in on Hawke, of course. Everyone is. Hawke is a public figure and a well liked one at that, and Meredith may have bitten off more than she can chew.

But Meredith just observes. She makes notes in that book she carries and Cullen sees the beginnings of a sketch once (the curve of a lip and the line of a nose) and doesn't say a word when Meredith meets his eyes and asks him about her, about how she works and why the people love her when she is obviously an apostate. A free mage, living in hightown.

Meredith doesn't tell him that she has an almost direct line of sight to the estate from her window, and Cullen doesn't tell her that he knows.

Meredith doesn't pine.

Meredith observes, takes notes and draws the fine bones of a wrist in the margins.

[middlemarching]

ohmygod this could not be more perfect <333 this is EXACTLY what I was hoping for. You're brilliant.

[twenties_girl]

HOLY CRAP YOUR ICON *points* HE IS ON TELLY RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!

Also, RE2: leon and Claire - office (use your imagination ;) I'm intrigued)

[severedscythe]

The desk is entierly too big for her. Claire looks like a little girl playing at CEO sitting behind the huge, mahogany desk; her arms don't stretch the entire width of it even if she tries and everything is bunched up close to the chair, her computer crowded with her papers and the coffee cup that hasn't moved for a month.

"Working hard?" Leon asks, letting an amused smile settle over his face as Claire huffs at him and waves a hand for him to sit down.

"I refuse to finish that." She sounds tired. He wants to reach over and touch her cheek, press his thumb against the bruised skin under her eyes and tell her it'll be okay. She doesn't need to ride a desk but after the debacle with the airport, she-. Well. Took it hard. He'd hopped into his helicopter and toddled off to do his own thing and only realised that he'd left her behind when he'd turned, mouth full of words, to find her missing.

"Humor me."

"I am." She smiles at that and he feels the victory like small fires curling under his skin.

[koushi]

Inception, Cobb/Nash, Nash finds out about Batman...

[severedscythe]

The wheels of the chair creak when Dom doesn't use it for a while. There's not much he can do about it; the prosthetic makes it easier to move around and the chair sits unused, most of the time, taking up a corner of the bedroom. Nash is greeted with it every time he wakes, the chrome and the leather slowly gathering dust.

They think he doesn't know, of course. They think he's stupid, that he wouldn't notice the bite-marks or the way the prosthetic would end up propped against the island in the kitchen and Dom would end up over the other side of the room, lounging on the couch. Sleeping.

Waiting for him to come home.

Dom never speaks of leaving him and he never speaks of going.

He wheels the chair out for him, tucks the kids into bed and makes coffee, waiting for the window to open.