Icon Drabble Prompts
Sunday, 28 January 2007 21:15Ok, so I'm going to try something to get my creative juices flowing. Leave me an icon and I'll write you drabblish response in the comments. The first five prompts(if I even get that many)will definetly get answered.
no subject
2007-01-29 05:23 (UTC)no subject
2007-01-29 05:44 (UTC)no subject
2007-01-29 05:48 (UTC)no subject
2007-02-01 06:31 (UTC)Congratulations on the publisher liking your work, but always be true to yourself and your self expression first. *kind of squeeing about the publishing thing though. I'm happy for you, and that feels kind of inappropriate right now, when you're so heartbroken, but it's so cool that they liked your work*
no subject
2007-02-04 06:01 (UTC)He bled like any man; his body had been torn and bruised; he'd even felt his very life slip away like water through a sieve.
His heart had seen its fair share of pain as well. Grief was like a familiar ghost that danced at the edge of his vision, an ache that reminded him no matter what he did people were going to die, going to suffer.
The one thing that had never deserted him was his will to live. Some people might have called it hope, some might have called it pure stubborn. He figured it was a mix of both, though there had been times when hope had been the farthest thing from his mind. He'd just never been able to give up, to lay down and die.
Sometimes after a particularly hard mission, sometimes after someone he cared about/loved/would die for, had come too close to their own death for comfort, sometimes when he'd come too close to his own, sometimes when he just felt like going to sleep and never waking up, he'd look in his mirror and remind himself:
no subject
2007-02-14 03:58 (UTC)Grief was like a familiar ghost that danced at the edge of his vision, an ache that reminded him no matter what he did people were going to die, going to suffer.
This line especially is made of the win. You really did well in capturing the icon's mood!
no subject
2007-01-29 05:34 (UTC)You Don't Know
2007-01-29 06:28 (UTC)When he picks up the crowbar it's hard and heavy,solid, and before he knows it he's swinging. The shatter of glass makes him grit his teeth, reminding him of the sound of twisting metal, the sound a car makes when it gets t-boned by a semi.
When he turns the Impala is right there, what's left of her at least, what's left of his illusions, what's left of home and safety and family. He's furious now, furious at his mother for dying before he ever really knew her, furious at Sam, furious at his father for dying and for leaving him with this secret, furious at a world that won't mourn John or Sam or Dean Winchester.
He's always been on the outside looking in, and with every swing he thinks, You don't know.
Re: You Don't Know
2007-01-29 06:42 (UTC)Deen~! *hugs him*
Re: You Don't Know
2007-01-30 03:57 (UTC)no subject
2007-01-29 06:07 (UTC)no subject
2007-02-02 02:40 (UTC)