wehappyfew: © 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓁𝓎𝓃 | house. (♕ vicodin ↬ amber ( awesome ))
♕ peaches. ([personal profile] wehappyfew) wrote2013-01-04 09:39 am

( 0 9 6 ) → butterfly effect



MULTIFANDOM AU DRABBLE MEME


RULES:
    1. comment to this post with a fandom + character/pairing (in the subject) and type of au + a prompt (in the comment).
    2. any sort of au is welcome, even if it's just a pairing that isn't canon! crossovers are, of course, definitely welcome!
    3. warn for spoilers/triggers/ratings over pg-13.
    4. if you post a prompt, please try to fill one! and remember, just because a prompt has been filled once doesn't mean you can't fill it again!
    5. spread the love! if you read something you enjoyed, comment and let the writer know!
    6. spread the meme! copy/paste from the text box and spread the word so there'll be more prompts/fills.
    7. don't start wank/flame anyone/be rude.
    8. if you have any questions, comment here!
    9. comment here with filled prompts so i can list them!

    we also now have a list of the unfulfilled prompts thanks to [personal profile] chordatesrock!




filled prompts

bandom


dc universe ( comics, films, etc )
    001. robin hood was far too good | victorian gotham, jason todd as the artful dodger, tim drake & jason todd, rated g
    002. untitled | canon au, in a city of batmen, an ordinary man is the hero they deserve (but can't have right now.), gen, rated g


elementary


generation kill
    001. untitled | college, one shot too many, brad/walt, rated pg
    002. will it ever be enough | canon au, platoon member dies; brad/nate find solace in one another, brad/nate, rated r


harry potter
    001. how strange it is to be anything at all | canon au, neville longbottom: the boy who lived, gen, rated pg
    002. untitled | canon au, harry is already a bitter child by the time he goes to school and never trusts dumbledore gen, rated pg
    003. the long road | canon au, all was not well and the leader of the next group of troublemakers... is Hermione, gen, rated pg
    004. all the stories you've told (will live on) | canon au, all was not well and the leader of the next group of troublemakers... is Hermione, albus potter, rated g
    005. and she shall reign... | canon au, all was not well and the leader of the next group of troublemakers... is Hermione, gen, rated pg-13


hunger games, the
    001. untitled | canon au, foxface wins the hunger games, foxface, rated pg
    002. untitled | canon au, foxface wins the hunger games, foxface, rated pg-13 trigger warning for non-graphic mentions of rape


fullmetal alchemist
    001. quest for the philosopher's stone | dungeons & dragons or other stock fantasy, roy is a squishy wizard. riza is the ranger or paladin who protects him. they go dungeon crawling., roy/riza, rated g


the legend of zelda
    001. another world | canon au, zelda is the hero who saves the world, gen, rated g
    002. the truth of the legend | canon au, zelda is the hero who saves the world, gen, rated pg-13 contains major character death


marvel ( comics, films, etc )
    001. ceasefire ( mcu ) | role reversal, she's the ex-military field operative, he's the charming spy, clint/natasha, rated pg


once upon a time
    001. will always find | (noir) detective, snow/red, rated pg
    002. still searching | canon au, When Charming's memories come back after waking up from his coma, they're his FTL memories, not the curse-implanted set about Storybrooke, charming/snow, rated pg
    003. heart's a mess | canon au, graham doesn't die, graham/emma, rated pg
    004. something to start on | canon au, that time red didn't eat her boyfriend, peer/red riding hood, granny, rated pg


pretty little liars


puella magi madoka magica
    001. untitled | "fame", any femslash, ensemble, rated pg-13


revolutionary girl utena


star trek reboot
    001. at his fingertips | canon au, uhura goes after kirk in the academy instead of spock, kirk/uhura, spock, rated g


stargate
    001. untitled | star trek au, she's always wanted her own ship, sam, rated g


teen wolf
    001. untited | bdsm, dom!danny and sub!jackson, danny/jackson, rated r


TSUBASA: RESERvoir CHRoNiCLE
    001. falling in love at a coffee shop | coffee shop, fai/kurogane, rated g
    002. in a better world | canon au, SPOILER WARNING: HIGHLIGHT TO READ Valeria AU: Fay isn't born a twin, and grows up to be the king of Valeria end of spoiler, gen, rated g


crossovers
    001. untitled | crossover ( final fantasty vii, harvest moon, heavy rain, pokemon, street fighter ), various game characters form a badass survival team, various game characters, rated pg



spread the word!
gloss: lady troll seen from the back (HS: Kanaya)

Re: QUESTIONS. COMMENTS. CONCERNS.

[personal profile] gloss 2013-01-04 08:30 pm (UTC)(link)
I love this idea!

Question: Are you defining "drabble" properly/strictly here, as 100 words on the nose, or do you mean short ficlets of any length?

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gloss: superhero hit over the head with a book (academia)

Re: FILLED PROMPTS.

[personal profile] gloss 2013-01-04 09:46 pm (UTC)(link)
The Political Unconscious. | Grad school AU, Elementary, Watson & Holmes, PG

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chatona: (gk: let slip the dogs of war)

[personal profile] chatona 2013-01-04 10:57 pm (UTC)(link)
Brad can hold his liquor; not everyone is quite as lucky as he is in that. That Walt is the one swaying on his feet and grinning at Brad a little too broadly is surprising, but not as surprising as it could be given that he's pretty sure he saw Ray mix drinks and handing them off to Ray. That kind of shit never ends well.

He's on his way out because the party's not his kind of scene (and if people are whispering behind his back that he's The Iceman, well, he doesn't give a flying fuck even though those whispers are revering rather than derogatory) and he might as well be magnanimous: he puts a hand on Walt's shoulder and nudges him toward the exit. "Come on."

Walt's nodding and grinning and linking his arm with Brad's and that was never the plan, but somehow Brad finds he isn't protesting.


ahaha fuck i'll write something better in the morning maybe?! >.>

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perfectworry: meet me in the door with the desert in the morning I am there (you do this for love)

TSUBASA: RESERvoir CHRoNiCLE

[personal profile] perfectworry 2013-01-04 05:49 pm (UTC)(link)
alternate universe: coffee shop. Fay/Kurogane. (PG13)
zelinxia: (Kurogane - smile)

Falling in love at a coffee shop

[personal profile] zelinxia 2013-01-06 10:14 pm (UTC)(link)
I never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop
I love so much
All of the while I never knew


There’s something about him that garner’s Kurogane’s attention every time he drops by. Maybe it’s the way his golden hair radiates impossibly, perhaps to make up for the lack of sunshine the city gets year round; or the way he carries himself in the coffee shop. It’s not like he’s the only easy-going type (there’s all sorts of them throughout the day, artists, students, business professionals, even tourists, but nobody seems to be in a hurry, and that’s what he likes about working here) but there’s an air to him, the type of air one likes to be outside on a crispy autumn day.

They never got to talk much, except when he comes up to the register and orders. Kurogane knows it by heart: sinful and decadent blueberry muffin with a side of butter, the pastry of the day, and mocha with extra chocolate syrup. He knows his name well enough too, and doesn’t have to ask for his name anymore to scribble it on his cup with black Sharpie.

Fai. F-A-I.

There’ve been times he would look over his shoulder now and then when he prepares Fai’s order. He has to be careful though, otherwise he would put in too much of this or that ingredient or spill and burn himself. The barista does so as discreetly as he can, catching Fai at the corner of his chair looking out of the window wistfully, or tucking stray strands of hair behind the back of his ear. As soon as sky blue eyes look in his direction, Kurogane immediately looks away, hoping that he didn’t notice. There’d been one instance where the next day when Fai had dropped in and he had teased Kurogane about admiring the clear sky when clearly it was still raining outside. Any friendly worker would laugh it off or chime in with a witty response. But instead Kurogane flushed, tongue too tied, and he’d then hurried through Fai’s usual order.

When he calls out his drink and Fai picks it up with that bewitching smile of his, it always twists his stomach in all sorts of funny knots. On slow mornings he clean ups the counters afterwards, all the while forcing his heart to calm down from the after effects of Fai’s smiles. They never really talk much and yet Kurogane can’t help but be attracted to this beautiful, enchanting man. It’s as if they have a sort of unspoken connection, and he wonders if Fai feels the same.

The barista has never been really good at talking, let alone striking up conversations with people he really likes. His father teases him about how much people have had their eyes on him, and his mother tries to help him with relationship advice whenever he asks her for it. And yet whenever he thinks about saying things other than ‘good morning’ and ‘I need you to sign this’, he feels like it’s learning the language all over again.

Today’s pastry of the day is apple croissant. He puts one on a plate along with the crumbled blueberry muffin and a packet of butter. Fai fiddles with his wallet and takes out his card, which Kurogane swipes. He ignores how the V-neck shirt Fai’s wearing today really brings out his collarbone (but fails) and then rips out two receipts.

“You know what you need to do,” he says, feeling his tongue tripping and praying that Fai doesn’t hear any stuttering at all.

“I do,” Fai says back, rather cheekily. “But I can’t sign anything without a pen, right Mr. Bariista~?”

It’sKurogane,” he mumbles, feeling that blush creeping up his neck as he fishes for a pen in his apron pocket.

Signing shouldn’t take that much time in reality, but right now it feels more than five minutes. Kurogane distracts himself by paying attention to the other sounds in the coffee shop, instead of the way Fai’s bangs sweep over his forehead as he signs the merchant’s copy. He doesn’t know if Fai is actually taking longer today or if it’s just his imagination after that slight hiccup. When Fai finishes he smiles and shoves both receipts towards Kurogane. He raises his eyebrows in confusion, but takes both anyways, thinking Fai wants him to toss his customer’s copy away. However, he notices more marks on the one for Fai and reads them curiously.

It’s his number.

And it’s underlined twice with a tiny ‘Call me’ note.

Heart skipping a beat, he curls his fist and holds it, as if it’s something he doesn’t want to lose. He doesn’t of course – the fact that Fai wants him to call him to go out on a date or something like that is an opportunity he never can dream of letting go. It goes safely into the back of his pants’ pocket, where it won’t be lost or forgotten in his apron.

He manages to prep Fai’s drink. When Fai fetches it, he smiles. Well, attempts to. There’s not much else he can say or do except admire him from behind the counter as he nibbles at his pastries and sips his coffee.

He’ll call Fai tonight.

All of the while, all of the while
It was you


perfectworry: meet me in the door with the desert in the morning I am there (found in the snow)

TSUBASA: RESERvoir CHRoNiCLE

[personal profile] perfectworry 2013-01-04 06:03 pm (UTC)(link)
Valeria AU: Fay isn't born a twin, and grows up to be the king of Valeria. (highlight to read)
guardians_song: The adult Syaoran and Sakura from Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle (TRC (het) OTP)

In A Better World [G]

[personal profile] guardians_song 2013-01-08 08:45 pm (UTC)(link)
(in a better world)

He is the kind, wise king, and well-loved by his people.

(in a better world)

No one speaks of the family member that went mad, and that man's name has been blotted forever from history.

(in a better world)

Though perhaps he feels loneliness, he contents himself with being married to his kingdom.

(in a better world)

He thinks wryly, at times, of the imaginary friend he had when he was a little boy, and shakes his head at his own lack of creativity.

(in a better world)

On nights when all the joys of his court seem empty and all the cheers of his people seem false, he looks down from the high window of his bedroom in the tower and imagines - for the most fleeting of moments - that he can see a child who looked just like him, but had all the free spirit, silliness, and merriment that a prince of the blood could never hope to show and was not even supposed to feel -

(in a better world)

He can imagine, for the briefest instant, that he sees Yuui.

(in a better world)

But he is no longer a child, and so he inevitably turns away from the window and puts away childish things; he lays his head on a silken pillow and passes into sleep, consigning his loneliness and longings to oblivion for a time, and regains the strength to rule over his great nation once again.

(in a better world)

And Yuui is nothing but a dream.

(in this world-)

"Just once more!" the boy from another world begs, and time is ripped asunder -

The trumpets herald the birth of twin boys to the Queen of Valeria: one, named Fai -

And another, named Yuui.

Re: In A Better World [G]

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inlovewithnight: (Default)

Elementary (gen or Joan/Sherlock)

[personal profile] inlovewithnight 2013-01-04 06:38 pm (UTC)(link)
Grad school AU.
gloss: (Elementary: Watson is seriously awesome)

Re: Elementary (gen or Joan/Sherlock)

[personal profile] gloss 2013-01-04 09:43 pm (UTC)(link)
The Political Unconscious

The office was clearly once (quite recently) a broom closet. The undergraduate carrels in the library are roomier than this place; there are sardine cans more comfortable than this.

"Just leave it outside, thank you!" a posh British voice calls when she opens the door.

"Leave what?" Joan asks, then catches herself. "What are you doing in my office?"

A pale face, cheeks haggard, jaw haunted by scruffy stubble, pokes around the door. "This is my office. And you -- where the hell's my chicken korma?"

Swallowing, she fixes her posture. "I'm Joan Watson. You're in my office, Mr....?"

He squints at her for a moment, then seems to unfold as he pulls himself around the door and into the light from the hallway. "Holmes. Sherlock Holmes. Well, this is quite the saccharine and inane rom-com scenario, now isn't it?"

"Mr. Holmes," she says, and does not back up even as he towers over her. "There's been some sort of --"

"Mix-up, yes, yes." He turns away, his attention snapping off as precisely as a light switch. "Get that straightened out, won't you? I have work to do."

*

It was no mix-up. They're both here on Gregson's grant; they're both expected to share that vertical coffin of an office; they're to be colleagues.

"Colleague," Joan announces early one Friday evening, then pauses to drain her beer and set down the glass, "from the Latin, collega, 'partner in office'." She snorts. "Partner in obnoxious awfulness, more like."

Her friend -- no, not exactly her friend, it's too early to have friends -- her acquaintance Irene chuckles a little. "He can't be that bad."

"He's worse," Joan tells her solemnly. She shakes out her hair and pulls it back and up off her neck. "He's...he's..."

Sherlock slides into the empty seat at their table. "Delightful, charming, rascally yet possessing a heart of pure..."

"Evil," Joan says. Sherlock is taking Irene's hand, massaging his thumb lightly over her knuckles. Irene has lovely hands, long-fingered and graceful; they match her long neck and wide, dark eyes.

"Your reading of the ideologeme has haunted me all week," he's saying as Irene pretends to look bashful, lowering her eyes, looking away, even as she inclines toward his touch.

"Whatever, I'm out of here," Joan says, though probably neither hears her. She hoists her backpack onto her shoulder, yanks her scarf viciously around her neck, and makes her way out of the grad pub. She has hours of reading ahead of her, two reaction papers to write, and she still owes Gregson twenty hours of library research and seventy-five undergrad essays to mark.

Joan hasn't had more than six hours sleep in a row since August.

She believes in hard work. She doesn't know how else to be. She's nothing like Irene, for whom three languages and both queer and gendered perspectival readings come easily as breathing; she's nothing like Sherlock, for whom "work" seems to consist of ordering takeout, staring into space, then leaving for hour-long cigarette breaks.

*

"Of course you're nothing like me," he says later that month, holding the styrofoam package to his chin as he slurps up basil noodles wreathed with Sriracha. "You take this seriously. Literally, one might say. You refuse to see that this is all a game."

"What's a game?" She's slumped over her desk, forehead abutting The Archaeology of Knowledge, cheek resting on the top of yet more essays to mark.

Irene just had a conference panel approved; Sherlock has already presented at two conferences. Joan has nothing to show for her time in the program so far, nothing except possible ink poisoning from all the grading and rapidly-developing myopia.

"This, Watson! All of this!" Sherlock gestures widely, flecks of basil flying off his fork, until he smacks his hand against the concrete wall. "Ow, fuck. All of this is a game. A fairly straightforward one, it turns out. I must say I'm rather disappointed; I'd long been led to believe that academia was more complicated and intricate in its inner workings than...than..."

He trails off into silence. Joan isn't sure, but he may have sounded sincere just then, actually and authentically disappointed.

The moment is a lot like stalking a butterfly. You don't dare move, or breathe, or speak, lest the fragile wings beat and lift and the creature vanishes; but if you do nothing, you'll never catch it.

Joan turns slowly to face him. Sherlock has his mouth set, his eyes narrow and hard. He could be feeling some true emotion. He could be constipated. He's fucked with her enough times that, though she wishes she didn't care, she is at least cautious.

He looks at her, briefly, and licks the corner of his mouth.

"Sherlock--"

"Watson," he says.

She flexes her hands in her lap. Beyond his name, she has nothing to say.

"Are you..." His expression softens, goes unrecognizable. "Watson. Are you going to kiss me?" he asks.

The butterfly vanishes. Joan shoves the pile of books on the corner of his desk to the floor. "Asshole."

He beams at her and raises his palms in surrender. "You're learning!"

She really should have gone to medical school.
alpheratz: (Default)

Bandom: Gabe/Mikey

[personal profile] alpheratz 2013-01-04 06:41 pm (UTC)(link)
Star Trek AU
la_dissonance: grainy black and white photo of a woman making a silly face (Default)

Re: Bandom: Gabe/Mikey

[personal profile] la_dissonance 2013-01-05 05:28 pm (UTC)(link)
Gabe's first thought, as they crash to the dusty ground with a jolt, is that there must have been some malfunction with the transporter. This isn't the Prime Minister's council chambers as arranged, but somewhere on the outskirts of the city, low and residential and ordinary.

"Motherfucker," Gabe says, getting up and dusting himself off.

Beside him, Mikey gets to his feet more quietly and surveys their surroundings. Gabe does a quick check of the dusty alley they've landed in, but it's just the two of them; the rest of their landing party seems to have vanished.

Ray's voice comes crackling over the communicator. "There's been some kind of malfunction with the transporter, Captain Saporta. You and Junior Engineer Way are the only ones who made it down."

"Is everyone else okay?"

"Standing right here with me, Captain."

"Good." Gabe breathes out a sigh of relief. "Beam us back up and let's try to do this thing right."

"I'm afraid it won't be that simple. There's some sort of atmospheric disturbance, it shorted out the -- " Ray's voice gets cut off in a snow of static, and Gabe futilely presses the communicator to his ear.

"Shit."

"Ray'll figure it out," Mikey says, looking so confident and calm Gabe could almost swear he could feel it.

"Yeah," Gabe agrees. "Look, if they can't beam us out anyway, there's no point in staying here. Let's try to find the government buildings, that way we can meet the others when they get here."

They wander for a while, but there don't appear to be any main streets, just a warren of little alleys and slightly bigger alleys and branching interconnected courtyards. There's no one around, but the place doesn't feel abandoned. For all Gabe knows, it's very early morning right now and no one's up -- he usually relies on Ryland to read all the stats and keep him up to date as needed; that's what a first officer is for.

More than his own ignorance, though, what bothers Gabe is that it had to be Mikey who got stuck with him down here. Mikey, who rarely goes on ground missions, and who has never, to Gabe's knowledge, been on one that got this fucked up from the start. That's a shitty track record to have to break.

Mikey calls him out the fourth time that Gabe steals a covert glance at him.

"You don't have to be worried for me, you know."

"I'm not worried," Gabe says automatically.

Mikey raises an eyebrow like he knows exactly how much bullshit that is.

[MUCH LATER]

"We really can't disappoint them," Gabe says. "It's a matter of utmost diplomatic importance." He says it regretfully, though, because of all the ways he'd imagined eventually making a move on Mikey, he hadn't imagined it like this.

"At least they gave us a room, though," Mikey says, pushing up his glasses. "They didn't have to do that, I get the impression the rest of them are all about to have group sex out there."

Gabe would have taken Mikey's monotone for reluctance, except that atmospheric disturbance that fucked up the landing is apparently acting as some sort of empathy field, and Gabe can feel Mikey's restrained excitement rolling off him in waves.

"So we're really just going to..." Matter of diplomatic importance or not, Gabe had maybe expected a little more romance. Candles, or something.

"Yup," Mikey says. "They said it's their most sacred holiday, we have to be respectful."

Gabe frowns. "There's not even a bed."

There isn't; the room is small, and completely bare except for a counter running around three sides. Mikey boosts himself up onto the counter and holds out his hands toward Gabe.

"They didn't really strike me as the type of beings who'd use a bed. C'mere."

Gabe goes over, unable to resist, and Mikey tugs him in. Up close, Gabe gets Mikey's feelings in high definition, anticipation and arousal and amusement and almost buried, a thread of nervousness.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Gabe asks.

"Are you sure you are?" Mikey asks, leaning his forehead against Gabe's and tightening his hand around his wrist but not touching him anywhere else, not yet.

Gabe wonders what Mikey can feel coming off him, if it's the same thing he would have felt all those times Gabe went down to Engineering with made-up questions for Ray so he could make eyes at Mikey, or if it's different now, if the alien feelingscloud has put its mark on them permanently.

"I don't know," Gabe says honestly, because Mikey would probably be able to tell if he were lying. "This isn't how I pictured it going."

"You pictured this?" Mikey asks with a little spike of happy surprise.

"Yeah, what do you think all those visits down to Engineering were about? I see Ray all the time on the bridge, I can ask him stuff then. Of course I pictured this."

"Fuck, what were you waiting for," Mikey breathes. All the other feelings have faded into the background, and all Gabe can feel is Mikey's arousal now, heady and urgent.

"I didn't want you to feel like I was pressuring you. Since I'm, like, the captain and all, and half the crew already thinks I'm a sleazebag who sleeps with anything that moves, and -- it's a self-improvement project, I'm working on it."

"The only pressure I'm feeling is from these aliens who want us to do it so they can get all voyeuristic on our feelings," Mikey says. "Can you kiss me now?"

Gabe obliges. "When all this is over and we get back to the ship, we're gonna do this right, okay? No aliens."

"I'll hold you to it," Mikey says, then goes for the fly on Gabe's uniform pants.

All in all, it's not the worst alien holiday Gabe's ever been forced to celebrate.

Re: Bandom: Gabe/Mikey

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inlovewithnight: (Default)

Community (any)

[personal profile] inlovewithnight 2013-01-04 06:44 pm (UTC)(link)
Olympic gymnastics team AU! A universe where Olympic gymnastics teams are co-ed, for reasons.
inlovewithnight: (Default)

Elementary (gen or Joan/Sherlock)

[personal profile] inlovewithnight 2013-01-04 06:47 pm (UTC)(link)
Soulbonded psychic wolves.
aimedatthestars: (luther alice)

Invitation - Elementary (gen or Joan/Sherlock)

[personal profile] aimedatthestars 2013-01-04 10:01 pm (UTC)(link)
If there's such a thing as pre-soulbonding, this would be it. It might not be exactly what you want, but I hope you like it.

*

If she really thinks back, it starts when they meet. He's close in her space, mouthing words of love at her, and his scent coats the walls of this place. This near, it's like wading through it. If they were wolves, her hackles would raise, she'd growl, and they'd fight this out. But they are human and instead she is flustered. She still wants to grab the column of his spine between her teeth until he presents his body to her: strong neck, soft belly, bare wrists above his head waiting for her hand to capture him.

The urge is strong, and she drops her purse.

It's hard to forget that kind of pull.



She's not surprised that when they shift, the magnetism is still there. She's anxious about spending the night with him; having a new wolf in his den could be dangerous. She offered to leave him the house, but he'd reminded her with wide eyes about how their kind like to indulge in their vices on full moons. And damn him, but she stays.

She tries to compromise. Leaving him picking a new set of locks, she goes into her room, set on spending the night there. After she changes though, she realizes while she might be able to stay there, Sherlock is sure to come in. That raises her ruff, so she nudges the door open. Outside her room, Sherlock's scent is even stronger, a taste in the back of her mouth, a burn at the top of her nose.

Tripping down the stairs (she cringes at how loud her claws are against the wood), she finds him with all six TVs running, the volume turned lower than usual for wolf ears. His back's to her, but he stills as he smells her approach. She tenses, ready to spring and snap and bite and push until Sherlock accepts a new wolf in his territory, but instead -

Instead, his tail gives a feeble flop and he rolls belly up.

Joan stands there dumbly. Sherlock rolls around on his back making the most pitiful whining she's ever heard, and well, clearly Sherlock's not upset with having another wolf in his den.

Approaching slowly in case he changes his mind, she pads over, and his tail starts wagging in invitation. She snuffles at his belly, and he squirms; she puts an end to that by gently gripping his neck between her jaws. He stills, beautifully, and she should leave it at that, but she can't help but give him a small shake.

She lets go, ashamed, but then he rolls up onto his feet, tongue lolling. He gives a chipper bark, nips her jaw and runs, stopping beneath the kitchen table to look back at her.

Come play.

Joan gives chase.

Despite his size, he's good at hiding in small places that would leave other wolves trapped. She's exhausted by the time she flushes him out of every bolt hole he has in the house. Panting, she lies on her side. Sherlock comes trotting in and collapses on top of her. She gives a token growl, and he continues to find the best way to sleep on top of her.

Early in the morning, when she leaves to change back, he's curled against her side. She wants to give him a lick to apologize for leaving him alone, but thinks better of it.

For the rest of the lunar week, she plays with him, and when they're not doing that, he follows her closely, letting her lead him around his own den.

It's not really surprising. People often become attached to their companions, and with both of them being wolves, it's unsurprising his attachment to her is even greater. She's the closest thing to pack he's had in a long time.

She'd been afraid he'd relapse during the full moon because with the wolf on the outside of their skin, they're indulgent creatures. She tries not to think too hard about that as he continues to stay close to her. (He might not be a wolf, constantly butting his head against her, lean body in fur rubbing against hers, but he is a man who opens doors, takes her coat, clears his knick knacks so she has a place to sit.)



When Joan moves onto her next assignment, that's when she realizes she should've remembered what else both she and Sherlock were.

Before she agreed to take Sherlock on, she'd looked into him. If they were a mismatched set of wolves, she'd only make things work. (Now, she realizes, that was never the problem. Not at all.) Sherlock's talents didn't limit themselves to picking handcuffs and deduction; he had multiple pack offers standing. A wolf with Sherlock's range of communication was well-valued, and Joan wondered why he would be alone to begin with. He'd received and given messages from his old pack in London while in New York. That's not normal, not at all; it's quite extraordinary.

Joan's quite talented at receiving from far distances, but she's never been able to reply. She's sure Sherlock would've used it to his advantage if he could; but it seems there are some rules even Sherlock would abide by. Sending messages that way was a reserved intimacy. As it was, he constantly bombarded her with texts.

Her new client isn't a wolf, so Joan keeps to her room during the quarter moon after giving her client explicit instructions not to bother her unless it was an emergency. She wakes up the next morning to her client yelling that there's a rabbit on their doorstep.

Having also been without a pack because of her job, she thinks her wolf's not used to being alone again after Sherlock. She works very hard at not remembering how thrilling it was to have a companion on the hunt (animal, human, it was all prey anyway). (She steadfastly calls her time with Sherlock diverting and fascinating and does not say she was happy.)

She pulls on her robe and goes to see the poor dead creature. It's clean kill, not much blood, all things considered. But the smell; she shouldn't be able to tell, but it's Sherlock curling up through the air and down into her bones again.

On the half moon there is a deer (she doesn't know how he found a deer in New York). On the three-quarters there's a coyote (a fellow predator, a demonstration of who the better hunter is). The wolf in her is nearer to the surface, Sherlock's scent growing thicker with each kill. She thinks of breakfasts in bed, of spaghetti in mugs, and Sherlock always offering his food to her first.

This has got to stop, she texts him.

come running w. me joanie.

She shuts her phone.



On the night of the full moon, she hears him outside her door.

Watson!

And God help her, she goes to meet him.
terajk: Ryoga, grabbing Ranma by his pajama-top and shouting: "Do you remember where my house is?!" (Default)

Todd and the Book of Pure Evil (Simon from ep.4 "Gay Day")

[personal profile] terajk 2013-01-04 07:19 pm (UTC)(link)
Joining the team
chimp: (batshirt)

Stargate, Sam (+ any)

[personal profile] chimp 2013-01-04 07:26 pm (UTC)(link)
Star Trek AU, she's always wanted her own ship.

Tiny snippet Re: Stargate, Sam (+ any)

[identity profile] nanoquill.livejournal.com 2013-01-10 05:35 pm (UTC)(link)
"Officer on deck!"

Sam smiled professionally at the ensign, nodding in acknowledgement. He nodded back before dropping out of attention and returning to his station.

She ran her eyes over the bridge of the Constellation-class starship, the USS Valour. This was still a fairly new class, though the Valour's sister-ship, the Enterprise, was already making a name for herself - not that that surprised anyone who knew (or knew of) her captain.

Sam had always wanted her own ship. This was like a dream come true.

She cast an eye over the various reports, going from more serious to less: -

Chief Medical Officer Dr. Frasier was already complaining about Security not paying attention to warnings and overdoing their exercises.

Security Chief Teal'c was preparing consequences for the members of his staff who'd annoyed her - the burly Halanan was not impressed to find that so many of his people didn't know their own limits.

Communications Specialist Lieutenant Jackson had proposed fourteen modifications to the equipment, with the proviso that 'only three of them were at all likely to explode' (Sam made a mental note to start with those; they were the most likely to be a challenge, so she'd better be fresh for them).

Navigator Ensign Quinn had submitted his ninth request for reassignment to somewhere 'away from Ensign Vala' (not likely to happen, since she was Tactical Officer).

Helmsman Lieutenant Mitchell had made some recommendations for new recreational equipment (Sam tried not to cringe too obviously; she knew, she just knew, that O'Neill was going to love them all, and at some point down the line Dr. Frasier would end up in a truly impressive fury).

Sneaked into the last pages was O'Neill's extremely unofficial note: 'Are you sure we're gonna get away with my Chief Engineer being my First Officer?'

Sam smirked, and jotted a quick reply. 'Officially, sir, Walter's your Chief Engineer. I'm the Chief Science Officer, remember?'

She sent the note back, and grinned as she looked around her. Everything was perfectly set up to fool the higher-ups if any of them became suspicious and started sniffing around for signs of what was going on. Admiral Hammond knew the truth, of course, but he could be trusted to keep quiet about it.

Sam had always wanted her own ship. And regardless of all the propaganda about Captains and their ships, everyone in the Fleet knew that the ship really belonged to the Chief Engineer.
chimp: (glasses 2)

Video games, any characters

[personal profile] chimp 2013-01-04 07:29 pm (UTC)(link)
Apocalypse AU, various game characters form a badass survival team (the more varied the characters, the better!)
Edited 2013-01-04 19:30 (UTC)
sirvalkyrie: (Default)

Re: Video games, any characters

[personal profile] sirvalkyrie 2013-01-04 11:34 pm (UTC)(link)
Ethan Mars dumped the cans of beef stew into a pot. He put all four cans into it. The pot was put over the small fire, struggling against the dark. He bent over at the waist and stirred the contents with the only large spoon he had.

Sneakers walked over shattered concrete. Chun-Li sat down on a more stable piece of rubble. Without the aid of a mirror she put the escapee strands back into her buns. She nervously smiled at Ethan when their eyes met.

“What’s for dinner?” she asked.

“Beef stew. Shaun and Pikachu found some cans of it.”

“We will be eating like people tonight.”

“Have you seen Cloud?”

“He was checking a subway.”

Speak of the devil and who should appear, but Cloud Strife. He nodded to the two of them. The impressively large sword was strapped to his back.

“Dad, dad!” Shaun cried out as he ran back to the small camp.

“Pika,” Pikachu yelled in agreement. He was running just in front of and to the side of the boy.

“Shaun!?” Ethan was worried for a moment. But seeing that his son was not being chased by a monster or zombie quelled Ethan’s rising panic.

Chun-Li stood up. Cloud reached one hand back and grasped the hilt of his sword. Their veteran eyes scanned the rubble all around them.

“Dad, I found a girl! She needs help.”

“Pika…..chu!”

“Show us,” Cloud ordered.

Boy and rodent led the three adults into an abandoned building. They moved down a long hallway. Shaun stopped at the third door on the left and pointed in.

“She is in there.”

Unconscious and bleeding on the floor was a blonde girl wearing a plaid shirt, overalls and a backpack. There was a dog at her side, whimpering and licking her face. Cloud crossed the distance to her and held out his hand. The material in his bangle began to glow. He was the only one of them from a game that had healing magic. Her severed flesh knit together until only the blood staining her face remained. She slowly opened her eyes.

“Who the Harvest Goddess are you folks?”

“Cloud Strife.”

Chun-Li moved to her side. “He is just being moody. I’m Chun-Li from the Street Fighter series. Those two are Ethan and Shaun Mars from Heavy Rain, good ending. The little yellow one is Pikachu from Pokemon.”

“I’m Claire, one of the farmers from Harvest Moon. I can’t believe I survived the destruction of Mineral Town just to hit my head on a bit of rubble.” As she spoke she made large gestures with her entire body that illustrated what she was saying just as much as her speech. It was a common trait from silent protagonists.

Ethan smiled at the farm girl. “Well, we don’t have much, but you are welcome to join us. It is safer to travel together.”

“Do you have a weapon?” Shaun asked excitedly. “Cloud uses a big sword and Miss Chun-Li is like a weapon.”

Claire stood up. She brandished an axe as she said, “I ain’t exactly the God of War, but I am pretty handy with an axe, hammer and sickle.”

Together the two headed back to camp. The stew had not been left alone for too long and was still very edible. It was better than some of the other things they had eaten since the world had been devastated.

Cloud twitched as they walked. He HATED traveling in groups bigger than three.
chimp: (glasses)

The X-Files/Stargate - Captain Scully & General Hammond (+ Sam & Scully)

[personal profile] chimp 2013-01-04 07:37 pm (UTC)(link)
Crossover, they both know a woman who's saved the world more than once...
aimedatthestars: (utena juri)

Fringe, Astrid + Walter GEN

[personal profile] aimedatthestars 2013-01-04 10:08 pm (UTC)(link)
The Sentinel AU. Guide!Astrid, Sentinel!Walter.
aimedatthestars: (utena juri)

Teen Wolf, Danny/Jackson

[personal profile] aimedatthestars 2013-01-04 10:10 pm (UTC)(link)
BDSM AU. Dom!Danny, sub!Jackson.
amor_remanet: photo of Amanda Seyfried in "Dear John," writing in her journal. (Default)

Teen Wolf, Danny/Jackson

[personal profile] amor_remanet 2013-01-06 08:59 pm (UTC)(link)
Danny loves the sight of Jackson on his knees, nosing at Danny's feet and ankles, whispering, "please? please? come on, Danny—quit holding out on me, this isn't fucking fair" against Danny's skin. His voice is warm and thick, slithering against Danny's skin, and Danny just toes at Jackson's adam's apple, scrapes his nails down Jackson's skin. He slides the ball of his foot down onto Jackson's shoulder, over the mound of his collarbone, and he says that he isn't sure Jackson's earned it yet.

"I'm sure you can beg nicer than that, Princess," Danny says, and Jackson bares his neck.

***

Jackson quivers when he's at Danny's feet, when he's alone in the living room and he hears their front door open. His ears prick right up; his heart skips a beat; his stomach writhes and flops around on itself, and just the thought Danny's home makes him want to run his mouth just so Danny will yank him to the ground, drag him there by the collar (of his shirt or the leather one wrapped around Jackson's neck—Jackson will take either option), and remind him who's the Dominant around here. Jackson's half-hard when Danny comes in, just from the idea.

***

Danny smirks like the edge of a knife as he snaps the panties' waistband against Jackson's skin. He smiles like he has a secret when he asks how they feel—"How do you think they feel, dude," Jackson says, huffing and rolling his eyes. "My junk's tucked between my legs to make them fit, I'm not sure I can even sit down…"

Danny snickers. "Yeah, but they look so pretty—and hey, maybe I was talking about how the fabric feels on your skin?"

It gets his ass smacked, but Jackson doesn't tell Danny that his heart's fluttering in delight.

***

Danny fucks him in the office, but he doesn't tell Jackson about the mirror he's put on the back of the door. He bends Jackson over, pulls his hair and bends his head back the way that Jackson likes, fucks Jackson hard, with one hand splayed on the desk for balance.

And Jackson watches all of this—he watches how his eyes double in size, how his mouth falls open, how his body scrapes against the desk and how his fingers clench, go white-knuckled, around the edge. Closing his eyes just once earns him a sharp pang in his shoulder, from Danny digging in his nails.

***

Danny takes off his tie as soon as he's home from work, loops it around Jackson's face and mouth, says that he can take it off when Danny's done making dinner—"But until then, the sub stays quiet, understood?"

Jackson nods, tries to play it cool and smirk around the fabric, but he can't hide the way that his eyes light up at this. Danny deliberately baits him, saying all kinds of things about how they should put Jackson in some panties again, maybe a corset this time—and Jackson can't keep himself from getting hard because he can't say anything back.
pretty_panther: (Default)

star trek, uhura and kirk

[personal profile] pretty_panther 2013-01-04 10:18 pm (UTC)(link)
She can't get those blue eyes out of her head and instead of ignoring him when he joins the academy she seeks him out.
ceitfianna: (Star Trek Not Alone)

At his fingertips: Star Trek (2009), Uhura, Kirk, mention of Spock, G

[personal profile] ceitfianna 2013-01-05 03:55 am (UTC)(link)
(Apologies for the edits and I hope you like this. It got away from me.)

The only classes they ended up sharing were the general ones, but he somehow got bumped up more than he should have. She asked around and found out that was because he aced the entranced tests. He knew his history, his tactics, his engineering mind and his math; no one believed the last one. How could a boy from Iowa know anything about five space math, it didn't make sense?

She was in that class with him and watched how he charted the path of space ships with his fingers and in his mind, she didn't want to believe it. He wasn't meant to be worth watching, he was a flirt, he didn't study and wasn't his father. He was James T. Kirk with eyes that teased at her as he asked her questions about languages, looking for her weaknesses, some sort of way in that she didn't give him. Yet his blue eyes saw space where no one else did, he used the imaging software but didn't need it. Space was always right at his fingertips.

Though she did change her schedule to have tactics with him, it would be a learning experience. Only Gaila knew that she had made the shift, it was only a section, not of great importance. Then she kept doing it, to share his navigation course, but no one else thought like him. Spock didn't and to see the two of them face off in class, that was why she was in the Academy. There were other benefits but to see great minds connect and spark, to hear how Kirk made his accent worse when he spoke to Spock. He was the farmboy, not the son of a great captain just an Iowa farmboy who could see tactics.

She wrote an entire report for herself about how Spock became more Vulcan in his mannerisms when confronted by Kirk's logic that wasn't immediately logical. Years later when they had all been through various versions of hell, she showed it to Spock who smiled, one of his true smiles. He understood what she had seen back then, that Kirk, Jim saw more with his blue eyes than anyone else in the Federation.
Edited 2013-01-05 04:00 (UTC)
pretty_panther: (sw: padme flat out)

star wars, skywalkers

[personal profile] pretty_panther 2013-01-04 10:19 pm (UTC)(link)
He always knew Padme was having two so when he learns Luke is alive he knows the other must be too.
pretty_panther: (hp: my foot up your ass)

harry potter,

[personal profile] pretty_panther 2013-01-04 10:21 pm (UTC)(link)
Harry is already a bitter child by the time he goes to school and never trusts Dumbledore.

harry potter - drabble fill

[personal profile] starry_starrrz 2013-01-05 10:15 am (UTC)(link)
"You have your mother's eyes," strangers tell him, as if it means something.

"Your mother died to save you," Dumbledore tells him, as if it can change anything.

"You're destined for great things," people tell him, as if he is stupid enough to fall for it.

Because he doesn't need their empty words, nor their hollow pity.

Instead he does only so much as is necessary, and lets others only so close as makes them useful.

"You're not what I expected," Sirius tells him, worn and broken, though Harry doesn't dwell on it.

It's only the ravings of a madman.
goodbyebird: Sarah Connor and Olivia Dunham side by side. (X now that's twice the awesome)

Fringe/The Sarah Connor Chronicles

[personal profile] goodbyebird 2013-01-04 10:34 pm (UTC)(link)
Crossover, The One Where There Are More Than Just Two Universes Thank You. Sometimes mindpowers aren't that easy to get control over, and then every now and then someone's bound to miscalculate that darn time machine, because time machines sure do sound complicated.
goodbyebird: Push: Cassie and Nick seen from the back. (ⓕ push back)

Push

[personal profile] goodbyebird 2013-01-04 10:39 pm (UTC)(link)
Heroes AU. There's an eclipse and all of a sudden powers change and new ones pop up.
goodbyebird: Hunger Games: Close-crop of Katniss wielding her bow. (ⓕ the girl on fire)

Total Recall(2012)

[personal profile] goodbyebird 2013-01-04 10:43 pm (UTC)(link)
Hauser doesn't manage to escape at the secret hideout, the rewrite goes through.
sirvalkyrie: (Default)

Hyperdimension Neptunia, Any/Any

[personal profile] sirvalkyrie 2013-01-04 10:52 pm (UTC)(link)
Magical girl au
ashen_key: ([MCU] krasnaia)

MCU, Clint/Natasha

[personal profile] ashen_key 2013-01-04 10:57 pm (UTC)(link)
Role-reversal!AU:

She's the ex-military field operative, he's the charming spy.
prodigy: A parody Choose Your Own Adventure book cover with the title "Gay Viking Holiday." (winter spring summer or fall)

Re: MCU, Clint/Natasha

[personal profile] prodigy 2013-01-05 07:03 am (UTC)(link)
"Wow," says the American, and spins the pub chair around in his hands so it's facing towards him and sits down straddling it. "That's not pretty, is it?"

He's got a bland expression of dismay on his square, lantern-jawed face, like many a blase civilian onlooker to someone else's disaster. His eyes are on the television, where they're showing footage from the latest half-foiled subway bombing. Romanova's are too, casually, but her attention is not. Romanova is the finest thing that ever happened to the Soviet Army, and that's without the serum. Romanova can pick the wings off a monarch butterfly from three hundred metres on a gusty day. Romanova can spot the silhouette of a camouflaged man from five hundred. Romanova knows a spy when she sees one.

She's out of uniform, so she favors the man with an offhand, distracted smile. She's not worried about him, exactly. He doesn't pose her a threat. Virtually nothing does on its own, without the element of surprise. It's any American friends he might have that concern her, so she gives the pub an obligatory once-over for any tensed figures who might be watching her or falling into position; the American's just a spy, and spies are monarch butterflies themselves, numerous and short-lived and indistinguishable. It's not the spy. It's what he signifies: someone's watching her here.

He doesn't look like a spy, she thinks with distant approval. He's burly and bluff, like a docker. At least someone wasn't an idiot. He's good, too: an easy smile when he looks at her, like any unassumingly confident man with a casual interest in a woman at a pub. It's sort of appealing, she admits. Pity it's not real.

"I'm afraid I have to be going," she says and starts to push her chair out, braced for any sudden moves from him. "It's getting late. Good to meet you, Mr.--"

She waits for a fake name to be provided. It is, dutifully: "Barton," says the American spy with another one of those down-home smiles. "It's Barton. So early?"

"Rising early tomorrow," says Romanova with the thinnest smile and shrugs her loose hair back over her shoulders. He hasn't gone for a weapon and no one else in the pub has reacted. Maybe he's just reconnaissance. Either way, she's going to be on her way out.

He looks faintly disappointed, but so would the man he's playing. She's almost wondering if it's coincidence when she's about to turn to go, but when she kneels to scoop up her bag he says under his breath, "Commander Romanova. I'd like to talk."

"Post me a letter, Agent Barton," comes her short response. She fixes him with a look when she straightens up that she hopes indicates what Natalia Romanova the Winter Soldier thinks of his nerve.

He meets it steadily. All that easy longshore blokeishness is gone from his shoulders, while she's had her eyes down he's flowed into a crisp, Langley pin-straight posture: oh, he is good. On and off like a light, like a machine with a dial. She knows machinery. She's a machine too. She has just one setting. She needs just one setting.

Barton smiles at her again, a different smile this time. It's a little tired around the edges. Probably not the subway bombing. "I mean it," he said. "I just want to talk to you. I know who you are. I have a lot of admiration."

"I'm honored," Romanova says with minimal dryness. She turns to go.

"I'm not with the Pentagon," murmurs Barton, just loud enough for her to hear.

She frowns, but there's nothing stopping him from telling a blatant lie to get her attention, of course. Spies do that sort of thing all the time, appealing to people's sense of mystery to hide what's always a very ugly little prosaic truth. It's all the Pentagon, sooner or later, or it's the Secret Intelligence Service or sometimes the KGB, and what does it matter? If Barton wasn't trouble for her in one way or another he'd have been handed down with a set of orders.

Romanova snorts and looks back at him. What she sees unnerves her a little. Romanova is the finest thing that ever happened to the Soviet Army. She knows genuine concern when she sees it.

She shrugs her bag over her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Mr. Barton," she says a little louder, at a normal conversational volume, like she's turning down a casual proposition in a pub. "I've got someone waiting for me."

She does. When she turns again, she can feel his steady eyes on her back.
Edited 2013-01-05 07:29 (UTC)

Re: MCU, Clint/Natasha

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