Prompt Post - Part Seven [CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS]
THIS PART IS NOW CLOSED. YOU CAN CONTINUE POSTING FILLS, BUT PLEASE PROMPT ALL NEW THINGS HERE.
Part one here!
Part two here!
Part three here!
Part four here!
Part five here!
Part six here!
Feel free to reprompt posts from parts one, two, three or four in part five once. If you do so, I'd recommend leaving a link to your fill on the original prompt, in ( Read more... )
Zombies, ghosts, trick-or-treating, costumes, vampires, werewolves, monsters, WHATEVER. Any and every pairing or just gen! Silly, spooky, fun, gory, whatever! (Though trigger warnings, please)
I would just <333 everywhere if someone had something up their sleeve. :)
Please?
Look what I found!! :)
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/ .''._'--(o.o)--'_.''. \ /\ /\
/.' _/ |`'=/ " \='`| \_ `.\ / \'._ (\_/) _.'/ \
/` .' `\;-,'\___/',-;/` '. '\ /_.''._'--('.')--'_.''._\
/.-' `\(-V-)/` `-.\ | \_ / `;=/ " \=;` \ _/ |
" " \/ `\__|`\___/`|__/` \/
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http://www.geocities.com/spunk1111/halowen2.htm
Geocites, risen from the dead, right?
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A flash of silver in the dark.
Wally’s eyes flutter open. A wan yellow light from the floor keeps some of the creeping blackness at bay - a flashlight, probably, strewn carelessly by the bed.
A bed. He wiggles down into the mattress - comfortable, familiar - his bed. His room in Mount Justice. The speedster shifts experimentally, but he can’t straighten up - his wrists catch on rough ropes bound to the headboard above him. His lycra costume slides across the sheets smoothly as he bends his legs, but he doesn’t get far - his ankles are tied to the far corners of the bed.
Okay, okay.
One deep breath.
Make that two.
Wally strains again and his sides complain. Bruising? Internal bleeding? Whatever had taken him down had been impossibly fast. The speedster couldn’t even dodge.
The room is completely silent: not a single soft breath emerges from the darkness beyond him. Alone. The speedster opens his mouth to call for help, but there’s that silver flash ( ... )
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Squeezing his eyes shut, he vibrates against the ropes in an attempt to shred them, and Robin throws his head back, groaning. His face falls forward again with a gasp, eyes glinting behind the mask, mouth in a half “o”, dropped open in a wide, sultry smile.
“Mmmmm,” he hums. Wally shudders to a stop.
“Robs, Robin.” A note of desperation sneaks into the redhead’s voice. “What … what are you doing?”
The tip of the knife flies to his windpipe. “I said ‘shh’, Wally,” Robin whispers firmly. “There’s time enough for noise later.”
He gently turns Wally’s face to the left - the blood from the cut wanders down the divot beside Wally’s nose and between his lips. It tastes of heat and fear and … something sweet.
Robin drops his head into the crook of Wally’s neck and inhales deeply, running his cheek over Wally’s freckles and temple up to his hair. On his way back down the side of Wally’s face, the speedster feels a tug on his Flash ornament: Robin catches the edge of his jaw on its sharp red point, slicing open a wound of his own. When ( ... )
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"Ro - Robs this isn't really you - it’s not hon -"
"Isn’t it?" Robin rolls next to Wally on his side, one leg still draped lightly over him. He lazily drags the butcher knife over Wally's chest and down his thigh ... The cloth starts to shred and split beneath the pressure, but it doesn’t quite reach Wally’s shivering skin beneath it.
"Don't worry. You'll get it. You'll underst ... No, way more than understand. You'll overstand soon enough." As Dick giggles inanely, Wally swears under his breath and stares heavenward for some sort of help.
Robin lets his gaze wander up Wally's face. "Mmm. Those eyes, though."
He slides the knife under the bottom of Wally's mask covering his cheekbones and carefully slices away the fabric. "I'll miss the green. A lot. My favorite color. Did you know that, Wally?"
The speedster swallows and shakes his head.
"Man, I never told you anything. I regret it. Well, this is the first time I've admitted that, so I guess it’s just a ‘gret’ for now."
Robin frowns. "Don't look so scared, Wally. Don't ( ... )
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hhhhhhhhhnnnnnnnnnggggggggg.
I want to give you some sort of constructive feedback but I can't because
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG.
Um, yes, please, and holy mother of all that is holy there will be more feedback in the future but for now.... hng.
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And... Dick's eyes... his beautiful, blue eyes...
You are cruel, anon, leaving us hanging like this.
Better review after the end.
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Dick lazily traces a thumb up and down Wally’s length, who’s feeling dizzy and lightheaded, vibrating weakly, still going through the motions of getting away. The acrobat buries his head in Wally’s shoulder and slices open the rest of his shirt.
"You smell sweet and savory now," he says softly, nuzzling Wally's bared neck. "I probably won't run across that particular combination often.”
His friend’s teeth scrape lightly over his pulse point and the speedster cringes. Robin chuckles.
"Your neck?” he scoffs. "Well, traditional, I guess, but sort of pedestrian, don't you think?"
The black cape rustles as Robin hops lightly back up on Wally’s hips. "Hmm. So anyway, what do you think we should do first?"
Staring thoughtfully at the wall, Dick absentmindedly taps the flat of the blade against his chin. "I know! We should find Roy. I'll let you turn him!"
He turns back down to his friend, gleeful: "Or, oooh, we could race. How fun would that be? See if you can turn him before I kill him."
"K-kill..?” Wally chokes. “Why ... Why ( ... )
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http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7506006/1/
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~a!a
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