#nyxfic

[impassive-aggressive]

so after six thousand years of trying to figure out a plot for this story it looks like this is the direction it’s heading

[aeonyx]

steponmeshoeman answered your question: one more one word prompt?

Peppermint

James Morairty leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his sniper's lips, a reward of sorts for nothing in particular. He drew back quickly with a brief curse. "

What the f--- Bastian," he grimaced, heading for the Irish whiskey on the counter, nevermind the fact that it was barely 9 am in the morning.

"What's wrong, Jim?" Sebastian asked as he watched Jim take a healthy swig of the whiskey.

"You taste disgusting," Jim cringed at the thought, but put the bottle down, obliviously satisfied with his impromptu mouthwash.

"I haven't done nothing different," Sebastian insisted, "Maybe it's the eggs you made for breakfast."

Jim glared at him. "There isn't a bloody thing wrong with my cooking, Moran," his eyes narrowed. "Bastian," Jim continued, "what sort of toothpaste did you buy yourself yesterday?"

"I dunno," Sebastian replied, "Peppermint something, it was cheap."

Jim hissed, practically as if cursing, "I loathe peppermint. Go and buy something decent. Try mint."

[aeonyx]

gahicantthinkofaurl answered your question: does someone want to give me a little writing...

quilting!

that says quilting doesn't it? bloody hell, I read it as quitting. on that theme...

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"I quit!" Mycroft proclaimed, his fists curled slightly at his sides, and his cheeks just a bit red.

Gregory, to his credit, was containing his laughter fairly well. Mycroft's dark hair was shades of white, a large smear of jam across his upper arm and a tousled yellow apron with strawberries on. Behind him, the kitchen was in a state Mycroft was going to be upset with once he noticed. Instead, Mycroft was standing before a tray of misshapen biscuits and an open jar of jam. One biscuit had been dolloped with jam, or more accurately, coated in a thick layer.

"They aren't that bad, love," Gregory tried once he contained his laughter enough.

"I can tell you are laughing, Gregory," Mycroft sniffed, rubbing his cheek and leaving a line of flour. Gregory grabbed a clean cloth from a drawer and wetted it. He walked up to Mycroft and grinned at him.

"You are completely brilliant," he told Mycroft, washing the flour from his face. "Now, shall we see what we can do about rescuing these biscuits?"

[aeonyx]

               Molly sat in an empty theatre, watching the empty stage. John thought he was dead, Ms. Hudson thought he was dead, even Greg thought he was dead, and she wasn’t allowed to tell anyone he was alive. So she came to the theatre, the same way most people would go to the church.

                There had been a time she wished to be on stage, a ballerina perhaps. She could remember it, her tiny shoes as she turned gently on the stage. The music wafting through the large room, above the seats along with her movements. One night she was invited to dance in a show, she’d been excited.

                Until the moment she stepped on stage, hundred odd people watching her and she’d frozen. Barely 11 years old, and too self-conscious to do what she loved. She ran from the stage and into her books. She studied, and let the theatre become a distant dream.

                Now she returned to its solace, and walked to the stage quietly. She climbed up the steps are removed her shoes, placing them down on the edge of the stage. She moved to the center of the stage and observed the empty theatre.

                Imaging the music, ignoring the possibility of a crowd, Molly pointed her toes and moved in motions she’d long forgotten.

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prompt

a vague attempt to get writing again

[aeonyx]

For the meteors

Show: Supernatural

Couple : Dean/Cas

Rating: K

Summary: Dean and Cas watch August 12th's upcoming meteor shower

                They started shortly after dark, giant balls of rock falling through the sky only to burn up. On a death mission with no way to stop it. Dean shook his head. Practically metaphoric, even for a bunch of inanimate objects. He let his left arm creep along the blanket they had stretched out to watch the lightshow and tucked his arms around Cas’ waist.

                The hand around warm body that was his angel played quietly with the edge of Cas’ new shirt. Sam and Dean had recently convinced Cas the coat was too much and bought him a few t-shirts and pants.  Tonight’s t-shirt featured a worn ACDC symbol, Dean’s choice.

 Cas thought the phenomenon of meteors was astounding, especially once explained by their resident geek moose. He’d been staring at the sky most of the day (including a comical walk into an innocent lamp post). Dean and Sam had taken the fixation as an excuse for a good night of dating. Sam had found himself a pretty little stargazer, Dean could see their outlines at the bridge of a nearby hill, and Dean had grabbed himself his favourite angel.

                Dean knew Cas wouldn’t move until the meteors quit going down, but a late night wasn’t new. He leaned to the side, resting his mouth closer to Cas’ ear. “You know, there is a human superstition where you wish on them and your wish comes true.”

Cas’ eyes flickered to him for a moment before he looked back.

“Did you wish for something?”  Dean shook his head. “Can’t tell anyone what you wish for, it won’t come true if you do.”

Cas paused for a second. “I do not think it will matter if I tell you what I wished for.”

                “What?”

                “I did not wish for anything Dean. I have all I want right here.” Cas responded, completely serious, his gaze suddenly focused on Dean.

                When he first met Cas, Dean probably would have laughed at such a cheesy line, but now he realized that Cas was dead serious. He pressed a kiss to Cas’ lips, forgoing words which he never quite managed for a kiss he could very well manage. “Get back to your stars angel,” he said with a smile, releasing Cas’ waist and plopping his head down on the other man’s lap. “I’m going to get some shut eye.”

                                Cas nodded. “Good night Dean. I’ll be here when you awake.”

                “As always.” Dean murmured.

                                He fell asleep that night, under the burning rocks outlining his angel, his Cas. He hadn’t made a wish either.  It wasn’t that he didn’t have everything he wanted, a demon free world, a house, a motorcycle, all those things would be nice. It was just that, in that moment, Dean needed nothing else.  Maybe he could be a big sap, but hey, he still kicked supernatural butt.