Martes - Rare Pairings
Jul. 6th, 2010 01:00 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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drabblewriter , and you're still stuck with me as your host. ^_^ Today's theme is rare pairings. Every fandom has that one OTP (or two or three) that everyone seems to ship, but what about all those other possibilities? Today is the time for these little-known couples to shine. ♥
Don't forget to follow the rules:
theme="RarePairings"
drabblewriter , and you're still stuck with me as your host. ^_^ Today's theme is rare pairings. Every fandom has that one OTP (or two or three) that everyone seems to ship, but what about all those other possibilities? Today is the time for these little-known couples to shine. ♥Don't forget to follow the rules:
- Post no more than three prompts per fandom and no more than five prompts in a row. If someone fills a prompt, you're more than welcome to post some more prompts later in the day.
- No spoilers in prompts for at least seven days after the original airdate or publication date. If you have spoilers in your fic, please warn in bold and leave at least three spaces.
- Show some love to the code monkeys and format your prompts correctly. Examples below:
- Supernatural, Dean/Crowley, coping
- Supernatural, Sam/Brady, first meeting
- Supernatural/Torchwood, Dean/Jack, 40 years in Hell vs. 2,000 years buried alive
theme="RarePairings"
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no subject
Date: 2010-07-06 02:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-06 02:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-06 02:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-06 02:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-06 02:21 pm (UTC)Truce
Date: 2011-05-27 08:43 pm (UTC)Odin walked in as if he owned the place. He’d traded the cloak for a trenchcoat but that was the same stupid hat he’d always worn, or one just like it. Loki lifted a hand in a gesture too languid to be called a wave. Odin walked over and sat down.
‘You stopped running,’ he said.
'Nowhere to go,’ said Loki. He shoved one glass of ale across the table and curled his hands around his own, fingers tapping out a nervous rhythm on the glass.
Odin nodded and raised his glass to drink, watching Loki watching him. Loki felt himself relax and knew it was visible.
‘I don’t really want to end the world,’ said Loki.
‘Will you swear to me, then, that you will not?’
‘No,’ said Loki, too quickly. He wanted to say “yes” because he’d never broken a promise, never been able to break a promise, and then all the stupid, lovely humans could go about their lives with nothing hanging over their heads. Fenrir and Jormungand needn’t die, Thor and Odin needn’t die. But he couldn’t trust Odin that much, not enough to give up the only leverage he had. A slow drink of ale helped to cover his confusion. ‘I want a truce.’
‘What manner of truce?’
‘You’re not the only one after me. If the Jotuns find me first I don’t think they’re going to take “no” for an answer.’
Odin bowed his head in thought and Loki fought the urge to hold his breath. ‘You wish for our protection,’ said Odin.
‘Of course. Do you really want me forced into starting Ragnarok?’
‘There are other ways of stopping you.’
‘You try to catch me and you’d better be fucking sure you can manage it first time. I’ll burn it all to the ground before I go back there.’ Loki leant forward as he spoke, teeth bared. Odin folded his hands on the table and gazed coolly back. The caw of a raven from outside made them both glance towards the door and when they looked back the tension was no longer thrumming between them although it was still there in the way they avoided each other’s eyes.
‘I have another condition,’ said Loki. ‘You take Sigyn back.’
‘Of course,’ said Odin. ‘Do you think we would have done otherwise?’
Loki took a drink and wished the situation allowed for him to get drunk. ‘No,’ he admitted. ‘She’s your family.’
‘You will not come to Asgard. You will answer to us when we require it. You will tell us where you are and stay where we can find you. In return we will protect you from such Jotuns as wish to cause Ragnarok and any who side with them. Do you accept these terms?’
‘It’s a deal,’ said Loki.
Odin pushed back the sleeve of his coat to show Draupnir, the band of gold as bright as it had ever been. He slipped it off and placed it in the centre of the table.
Loki put his hand on it, it was warm from Odin’s arm. ‘I swear that I shall not come to Asgard save that you later allow it. That I shall answer to you when you call on me. That I shall be where you can find me. All this so long as I am under your protection.’ He pulled his hand back and looked at Odin.
Odin placed his own hand over the ring. ‘I swear that so long as you abide by those terms you shall be protected from all who would use you to cause Ragnarok.’
As Odin slid Draupnir back onto his arm Loki rubbed at the faint pink line it had left on his palm. Although Odin was the Patron of Oaths he had broken them before and although Loki was the Father of Lies he never had. It would be a better joke than any Loki could dream up if he wasn’t caught on the rough edge of it. Outside the raven cawed again. Odin stood up and turned towards the door.
‘Send Sigyn to us. She will be welcomed,’ he said.
‘I’ll tell her,’ answered Loki. He wanted to ask how Thor and Sif were but the urge was ridiculous. They weren’t his friends anymore.
Odin walked out, coat billowing around him as he opened the door. Loki drained his ale and the remains of Odin’s before heading for the bar. He was going to get drunk after all.
no subject
Date: 2010-07-06 02:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-06 02:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-06 02:25 pm (UTC)Fill
Date: 2014-12-06 09:13 pm (UTC)"She looks like a Rubik's Cube."
The comment is cruel, meant to be funny, and the local LEO to whom it's addressed certainly snickers. That snicker lasts as long as it takes them to realise that Hotch has overheard them, as long as it takes him to level his patented laser glare in their direction. They have the decency to look ashamed, look down and scuttle away to carry on with their tasks, leaving Hotch to look across the room at the object of their derision.
Garcia's outfit is, as ever, a riot of colour and due to the pattern of her jacket, the reference to a Rubik's cube is actually not too far from the truth. Her skirt (just pushing the boundaries of appropriate length) is bright pink, her shoes are yellow and there is a violet flower holding back some of her hair.
Just looking at her makes him smile, but for very different reasons than the LEOs.
He tempers his smile when she walks towards him (professionalism and all that) but when she speaks, the smile fades altogether. "I saw that."
She is grinning, even as he frowns. "Saw what?" She couldn't have heard the comment, not from where she was standing.
"Officer Rubik's Cube over there, who went a-running after a Hotch glare?" He blinks in surprise and she quirks an eyebrow. "Lucky guess... Let's just say he has a limited repertoire of supposed humour that he repeats. Often." Hotch feels his jaw tighten and Garcia's grin widens. "Thank you, by the way."
"He shouldn't talk about you like that."
Garcia's smile changes almost imperceptibly, becomes more tender, as does her voice. "You're very sweet," she tells him quietly. "But it doesn't bother me. I've been called worse. Besides, I'm not a Rubik's Cube. You, on the other hand..."
Eyes twinkling, she heads back to her computer, leaving him to think about that and he doesn't think about it for long before he realises that it's true.
He's not as colourful as she is, nowhere near with his palette of navy and grey and brown. He's definitely square though, he can admit that with a smile on his face, and while he might look stoic and solid on the outside, inside he's often anything but.
Those are the times when, just like with the real Rubik's Cube she has on a shelf in her bedroom, she works magic on him, talking to him, smiling with him, putting him back together the right way, making him right again.
He wouldn't have it any other way.
Re: Fill
From:Re: Fill
From:Re: Fill
From:Re: Fill
From:no subject
Date: 2010-07-06 02:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-06 02:34 pm (UTC)Want. Take. Have. PG-13
Date: 2010-07-07 03:32 am (UTC)There's a nasty gash running up her thigh, it's not deep, but it's long. She brushes away Jo's helping hands and instead sets out the alcohol, ointment and gauze she'll need. Pamela doesn't need her help, not really. She was stitching herself up long before Jo came along.
Pamela picked Jo up about a year ago. He dad had died right in front of her -killed by a demon. Throat slit, blood sacrificed to bring forth a bigger, badder demon. They were about to do her, Jo can still feel the cold press of steel at her neck, when Pamela had showed up, guns blazing, cussing like a sailor. After the threat was back in hell and before her daddy was cold in his grave, Jo followed Pamela out of town. She hadn't been able to shake Jo since.
So she pretends not to notice the low hiss of pain Pamela makes as she dabs the cut clean. The motel tv has crappy picture, their faces are fuzzy and their voices warble. But it doesn't really matter, the campy, supernatural drama can't hold her attention anyways. Instead, Jo sits very still, her entire body attuned to the steady thrum of Pamela's heart beat and the warmth of the body in bed right beside her. Jo's still high on adrenaline from the hunt and she's aching to touch.
"You know, I'm Faith and you're Buffy." Pamela breaks the silence as she tosses the gauze wrapper into the nearest trash can. Her wound is dressed and it's done well enough, though Jo knows she could have done it better, if only because of her angle.
"You're Buffy." And there's a seriousness in Pamela's dark eyes that has no place in an otherwise silly conversation.
But of course Jo is Buffy, she's blonde. Pamela is the dangerous brunette, the one that doesn't leave the hotel room without a condom in her back pocket, not even for the grocery store.
"You're earnest, and good." Pamela brushes back her damp hair and nips lightly at her lower lip. "You let me patch you up after a bad hunt."
Jo rubs her fingers against the edge of Pamela's tape job. She disagrees, of course, but can't say it for fear that Pamela take it as confirmation, or shut down completely. They don't have heart to hearts often.
"I'm none of those things." Pamela rubs a hand down Jo's cheek. "I'm bad, naughty and I didn't like you at all at first. Wanted to muss you up good." She takes Jo's chin between her thumb and forefinger, forcing her to meet Pamela's eyes. "Dragged you into this life and got just what I wanted. Want. Take. Have."
Jo moans in relief as Pamela finally takes her lips, licking the run off adrenaline from her mouth.
"Now I can't get enough."
Re: Want. Take. Have. PG-13
From:Re: Want. Take. Have. PG-13
From:no subject
Date: 2010-07-06 02:35 pm (UTC)(Hi, yes, I used to be a slasher until Eliot Spencer broke me!! *sob*)
Soulful Eyes | Leverage, Eliot/Tara, That thing that scares people isn't all he does with his eyes.
Date: 2010-07-21 04:47 am (UTC)Re: Soulful Eyes | Leverage, Eliot/Tara, That thing that scares people isn't all he does with his ey
From:no subject
Date: 2010-07-06 02:48 pm (UTC)No fic...
Date: 2010-07-06 09:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-06 02:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-06 02:54 pm (UTC)no fic, but...
Date: 2010-07-06 04:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-06 02:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-06 02:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-06 02:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-06 03:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-06 03:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-12 03:02 am (UTC)When it became obvious that she had fallen for Ares- his handsome, powerful, better brother- he knew that he had to play dirty. He did, and he got the girl. He dedicated himself to creating pieces of jewelry most other women would kill for, and treating her like the queen his mother was never was.
And yet, every time he touched her, he could see the repulsion. And he could see the way she looked at Ares. And Hermes. And Poseidon. And every man who wasn’t him.
When Helios came to him with news about her trysts with Ares, he played dirty again.
The look of hatred on her face as the other gods mocked her was both delicious and heartrending.
She hardly spoke to him after that, but he didn’t care. She was still his wife, even if it was in name only. Even if he would have been the happiest man alive if she had been more.
no subject
Date: 2010-07-06 03:06 pm (UTC)Kitty | Leverage, Eliot/Tara, Tara discovers that Eliot is a cuddler
Date: 2010-07-21 04:45 am (UTC)The sex was all biting, scratching, passion, and pain. Afterwards she found herself held tight, protected, and cuddled close to his chest. She shouldn’t like it as much as she does.
no subject
Date: 2010-07-06 03:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-06 03:28 pm (UTC)No Fic...
Date: 2010-07-07 12:00 am (UTC)Re: No Fic...
From:Re: No Fic...
From:Jerry Sandusky from Beaver Falls
From:Re: Jerry Sandusky from Beaver Falls
From:Re: Jerry Sandusky from Beaver Falls
From:no subject
Date: 2010-07-06 03:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-06 03:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-06 03:35 pm (UTC)