I wanna do something fun...

[jebbypal]

So how 'bout a writing meme? Give me three prompts you think I'd never write on and I'll give you 100 words on at least one.

Any of my fandoms are up for grabs. And no, PT, you can't give me three hard core porn prompts and expect the frog to eke out even a word. :) (though crackfics and crossovers are allowable)


firefly, supernatural, invisible man, the unit, burn notice, dr who, torchwood, carnivale, lost, farscape, sga, umm, probably others that I'm forgetting

Comments

[poisontaster]

Actually, I was just thinking slash, period. I'm not THAT cruel, thanks. *muses*

How about Jack (Harkness, natch) meets Dean?

Invisible Man. Something about Arnaud.

Doctor Who. Sam Winchester ends up on the TARDIS with Nine. :)

[jebbypal]

*snickers* Just wanted to make sure in case you thought the ending of the torchwood fic showed bravery on the frog's part...;) And thanks to the fandom, after this weekend I've officially read more slash than I ever have before..

[poisontaster]

Ah. *taps nose* But not WRITTEN.

Jack meets Dean..

[jebbypal]

Okay, not very good, but here you are my dear.

(and the bunny for Sam and Nine is biting me on my heels demanding I watch Nine episodes cause it wants plot if it's written)

---

The werewolf backhanded him and pain burst throughout Jack’s body. Darkness fell, and for the moment, he knew no more.

He was more than a little relieved to wake up when the boy was still trying to light the match in the rain.

“What the –“ was all the firebug uttered before the book of matches fell to the ground and the end of a sawed off shot gun replaced it. “Do me a favor and stay dead this time.”

“Whoah, whoah, whoah!” Jack yelled. “The-“ Crap. Jack hated waking up to not knowing what was going on. “There was a wolf. It knocked me out.”

“It did a bit more than that,” the boy said as he gestured with the gun. Jack looked down to see blood covering his shirt. With his hands, he felt around and found the hole in his shirt. He must of fallen on a tree limb or fence stake.

“It didn’t get a chance to bite you, and the moon’s still up. So what the hell are you and why didn’t you stay dead?” the kid asked.

Didn’t bite you. He knew about werewolves. And accepted them as fact. Jack took another look and rounded his estimate of the kid’s age from sixteen to twenty-ish. Just an stuck in what must seem like an eternal baby-face stage. For not the first time, Jack gave a silent thanks that he’d run across the Doctor when he’d grown into his looks.

“So the werewolf is dead?”

“Two silver bullets, salted and burned.”

Salt?. Now Jack knew what the white stuff covering his coat and dissolving in the wet blood on his clothes was.

“Christo.”

“I didn’t sneeze,” Jack said.

“Not a demon then. Vampires don’t exist. Zombie? Never saw a zombie bleed before. Silver should put you down.”

“Point of fact, telling your victim how you plan to kill them isn’t smart. Especially if the alien has regenerative powers.”

“Alien?”

Something told him to get far away from this kid as he could, but he couldn’t resist giving him some advice. “Like the werewolf you just killed. And no, silver wouldn’t work. And I don’t care to try the burning. I was here to kill the werewolf. It’s done. I’ll just go now and you’ll never see me again.” With that, he signaled Torchwood and felt the warm nausea induced by the transporter beam.

Damn shame too. The kid was hot.