Saturday Free For All

[phantisma.livejournal.com]

Morning everyone! Today is Saturday, which means it's a Free For All day.

That means any prompt, any pairing, any fandom, any anything! This is the time for whatever prompt has been rolling around your head, waiting for the right theme day. Bring it on!


Please do remember the rules however,no more than three prompts in a single fandom, no more than five prompts at a time per poster, and no spoilers in your prompts. If your fic response to a prompt has spoilers, please warn and and leave enough space to allow a reader to skip your fic.

Please format your prompts correctly:

Hawaii 5-0, Danny/Steve, "Are you kidding me?"
White Collar, Neal/Peter/Elizabeth, Neal isn't really the gold-hearted thief he wants everyone to think
Leverage/Supernatural, Eliot/Ellen, bruised & bloody, but far from broken

Play nice! Have a Great Weekend!


PLEASE FOLLOW THE RULES! NO SPOILERS IN YOUR PROMPT. PERIOD. NO EXCEPTIONS.

Prompts that are spoilers will be deleted.

Comments

[phantisma.livejournal.com]

Hawaii 5-0, Danny/Steve, "Are you kidding me?"

[phantisma.livejournal.com]

White Collar, Neal/Peter/Elizabeth, Neal isn't really the gold-hearted thief he wants everyone to think

[phantisma.livejournal.com]

Leverage/Supernatural, Eliot/Ellen, bruised & bloody, but far from broken

[thezmage.livejournal.com]

Supernatural/White Collar, Castiel &(or /) Mozzie, "Even I think you need to lighten up, and that says something."

[lionessvalenti.livejournal.com]

Grimm, Hank/Juliette, it wasn't supposed to go this way

[elfinmouse.livejournal.com]

Any, any, Kittens.

Kitten Power (Star Trek XI)

[lah-mrh.livejournal.com]

"Hey, Spock? Did you w-"

Kirk stops dead as he enters the living room, stunned into silence at the sight in front of him. His stoic, Vulcan first officer is sitting on the floor covered in fuzzy kittens. There's even one clinging to his shoulder, and something in Kirk's chest twists at the sight.

"You know," he says, once he can speak again, "I wouldn't have pegged you as a cat person."

Spock startles at the noise, and the kitten on his shoulder digs in its claws and mews loudly. "Jim," he says, eyes wide. "I... that is..."

Kirk grins and comes to sit down next to him. "Don't worry," he says with amusement, "I won't tell anyone."

It might be his imagination, but he swears Spock relaxes a fraction at the words. "They seem to like you," he adds, nodding at the pile of purring fur in Spock's lap.

"Indeed," Spock replies, raising an eyebrow.

"Want to take one back with us?" Kirk suggests with a grin. "I'm sure Mom wouldn't mind."

"That would be against regulations," Spock replies, but the corners of his lips curve upwards. "Did you want something?" he adds, after a few moments of silence.

Kirk nods. "Oh. Yeah. Mom wanted to know if you want milk and sugar in your tea."

Spock shakes his head. "No sugar. Just milk."

"Coming right up." Reluctantly, Kirk stands, and Spock goes back to watching the kittens, a very faint smile crossing his face. Kirk thinks suddenly that the rest of their shore leave could be hell and it would still be worth it for this moment. He almost wishes he hadn't promised not to tell anyone about it. But then, he thinks wryly as he heads towards the kitchen, it isn't like anyone would believe me anyway....

[lionessvalenti.livejournal.com]

Warehouse 13, Myka/HG, if we could turn back time

[lionessvalenti.livejournal.com]

Warehouse 13/Eureka, Claudia/Fargo, striving to put right what once went wrong

[lionessvalenti.livejournal.com]

Suits, Mike/Harvey, back massage

[lionessvalenti.livejournal.com]

Suits, Harvey (&/) Donna, a teasing grin

[elfinmouse.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Sam, He gets a little neurotic about the socks on laundry day.

fill! (wow this is old i apologize)

[vojir.livejournal.com]

Laundry day is Tuesday. No matter where they are, no matter what they’re going through, no matter if the town they’re in is overrun with goddamn demons or vampires or killer toasters: laundry day is Tuesday.
Since Dean doesn’t like waking up early and most motels don’t have their own washer/dryer, Sam usually gets up to gather all their stinky, slightly-blood-stained clothes and trundle off to the nearest laundromat. At around ten he returns home with matched socks and carefully folded shirts, and Dean promptly shuffles them all back into the same mild disarray they were in before.
One morning Sam returns to Dean sitting at the so-called breakfast nook (a tiny table jammed up against a corner window with a parking lot view) drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. Sam hefts the laundry basket onto the bed and starts unloading clothes, stacking his and Dean’s on their respective beds. Dean looks up from his newspaper to see a neat stack of mismatched socks sitting next to his coffee cup, held together by a rubber band with a note stuck on the top: ‘No matches’.
“What is this?” Dean asks, chucking and pointing at the socks. “No matches? I wear mismatched socks all the time.”
Sam stiffens and turns from his sorting. “Dean, I match all of our socks whenever I do laundry. How do you still manage to wear mismatched socks? It’s really unprofessional.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me, Sam,” Dean says. “All of our socks are varying shades of black. No one is going to notice if the FBI guy is wearing a dark-black sock with a regular-black sock.”
Sam’s face is now a delicate shade of pink. “Dean, socks have different heights, and different thread counts, and different materials, and different patterns and textures – you’re telling me you just wear different kinds? Even if one goes up to your mid-calf while the other goes just above your ankle? Even if they have different stitching?”
“How do you know this much about socks?”
“Because I care about my appearance, maybe?”
“Nobody stares at your ankles and thinks, oh god, that guy isn’t wearing socks with the same patterns! We usually wear long pants anyway!”
Sam turns away and angrily tosses a pair on pants onto Dean’s bed. “If you don’t appreciate my sock-sorting, I won’t do it anymore,” he says quietly.
Dean is thoroughly confused and mildly frustrated at this point. “Fine,” he replies. “Never asked you to do my laundry anyway.”
“Well, you kept dying your white shirts pink because apparently separating the reds is beyond your capabilities.”
“Real men wear pink.”
“Whatever,” Sam says, with a certain finality. He dumps the remaining clothes onto Dean’s bed and stalks to the bathroom with the laundry hamper. “I’m gonna go get breakfast.”
“Knock yourself out,” Dean says, shaking his head and returning to his coffee. Every Tuesday. Honestly.


[an: i really like the idea of them bickering over tiny things when nothing exceedingly important is going on]

[dreamsofspike.livejournal.com]

White Collar, dark!Peter/Neal/El, "He didn't mean to do it. And I kind of had it coming, didn't I?"

[phantisma.livejournal.com]

"I'm fine." Neal ducks away from Elizabeth's mothering hand, but takes the ice pack she offers, turning to sit at the dining room table. His eyes dart to the stairs where Peter has gone to change his clothes, then back to Elizabeth.

She's biting her lip, her face tense. Neal smiles for her. "He didn't mean to do it."

She nods, her hand rising to cup his cheek. "He never does." Her thumb brushes over the still tender bruise under his eye before she leans in to kiss it tenderly.

"And...I kind of had it coming, didn't I?" Neal says even softer, eyes down now, his hands in his lap. "I got in his way. I was clumsy."

"Stop mothering him." Peter growls as he gets to the bottom of the stairs. "He's fine."

Neal stands, putting the ice back in Elizabeth's hands. "Thank you."

"Kiss her goodbye, Neal." Peter says, adjusting his tie. "Be a good boy so I don't have to punish you later."

Neal nods, steps in close to kiss her cheek. "I'm okay." he whispers in her ear. She nods tightly, not really looking at him as Peter approaches, kissing her cheek as well.

"Neal will be coming for dinner tonight." Peter says conversationally, all sense of his previous anger gone under the veneer of good husband and FBI agent. "Make that lasagna he likes."

"I can do that." Elizabeth responds. "Be safe."

"We will." Peter smiles and for a moment everything is okay, everything is perfectly normal. Then Peter grab's Neal's arm, tight and high and painful, pulling him toward the door.

He has a feeling the black eye is nothing compared to what Peter has planned for him once they're out that door.

[dreamsofspike.livejournal.com]

White Collar, Peter/Neal, Neal is bullied in some way by someone else in the white collar office, defended by Peter - "No one's allowed to pick on my CI but me."

[dreamsofspike.livejournal.com]

Glee, Kurt/Blaine, Blaine being protective during a scary situation

[dreamsofspike.livejournal.com]

HIMYM, Barney/Ted, Ted realizes how much power he has over Barney, and uses it

[dreamsofspike.livejournal.com]

HIMYM, Barney/Marshall/Lily, Barney gets into a dangerous situation while doing his usual sex-seeking thing, rescued by Marshall and Lily

[xenoamorist.livejournal.com]

Runaways, Karolina/Xavin, starlight

[mahmfic.livejournal.com]

Psych, Shawn/Lassiter, gun!play

Fill: Happiness is a Warm (& Silent) Gun - NC-17

[nevcolleil.livejournal.com]

He rarely thought about it before, but after Garth Longmore, Carlton couldn't help himself. Guns and sex have always gone together in his mind; the first time he held a sweet semi-automatic in his reverent grip remains as fond a memory as the first time a girl let him slip his hand up her skirt, the first time a boy let Carlton kiss him.

But with Spencer... Well, it's unfortunate enough that Carlton's imagination doesn't have higher standards (not to mention his < I>dick) but at least it has some sense of self-preservation. A man with a gun, in Carlton's opinion, can be a beautiful thing, but an accidental shooting en flagrante dilecto is anything but. Carlton assumed that giving Shawn a gun would lead to about as much chaos and accidental benefit as giving Shawn access to the SBPD, so he refrained from picturing Shawn and a gun in one fantasy at a time (save for those less purposed towards getting him off and more inspired by whatever lame-brained stunt Shawn has pulled this time.)

Then there was the Longmore case. And Shawn not only didn't get himself killed (he did get himself shot) while armed, he actually proved himself to be a pretty decent shot.

A damned decent shot, to be fair.

And Carlton's imagination went wild. Now a week doesn't pass that Carlton doesn't end some night with his dick in one hand and a piece in the other, rubbing its cool metal against his naked skin, picturing Spencer kneeling at his feet, his capable hand holding the gun steady as it raises bumps along Carlton's flesh.

When dream!Spencer keeps quiet, Carlton comes quickly.

He'll never admit it, even to himself, but when dream!Spencer doesn't...

Carlton comes even faster.

[xenoamorist.livejournal.com]

Runaways, Chase/Victor, Chase is the son of mad scientists. Victor is an android. Experiments ensue.

[xenoamorist.livejournal.com]

Marvel comics, Molly (Runaways) & the Hulk, arm wrestling

[xenoamorist.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Team Free Will, They go out to eat something that isn't burgers. Dean's not very happy about this, until he tries the food and realizes it's amazing.

[xenoamorist.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, demon!Bela &/ Crowley, Hell is undergoing a minor crisis. Best thing to do to soothe the nerves would be to brew a cup of tea, except there is no water in Hell.

Fill (Spoilers for S6 finale)

[wildlinggirl.livejournal.com]

"How come we don't have any water here?"

Crowley sighs. These were the kind of questions that he hated to explain; he really needed to get those instruction manuals for new demons done soon.

Nevertheless, he answers her.

"Because this is Hell" Crowley responds. "We don't have water for drinking or refreshing or making bloody tea!"

Bela's mouth curvs into a small grin. "A little nervous, are we? I just wanted to have a cup of nice tea over here."

She really was something, teasing around with the King of Hell. That was partly intriguing, it made her so interesting, and partly stupid, to be honest. But yeah, mostly intriguing.

Bela Talbot had been tortured in Hell for over half a century before she gave in to torturing herself, and eventually she became one of them. Being the first soul tortured by Dean Winchester might've had an effect on the girl, he assumed, which led the way to her becoming what she is.

"Just one cup of tea" Bela continues. "It's relaxing."

"Did you not hear the part where I said how Castiel became God?"

"Then, brew some tea and think it through. Or were you lying when you told me that you got out of the worst situations just by thinking?"

Crowley holds his sarcastic remark at that. She does have a point, which leads to him leaving the scene and returning a moment later with two cups of very hot tea. She thanks him and takes one with her hands.

"I thought there was no water in Hell" she comments.

"There isn't" Crowley snickers "Unless you're the king, of course."

Bela smirks. "I'll drink to that, my King."

[mahmfic.livejournal.com]

Men in Black, K/J, first time having sex in a car

[mahmfic.livejournal.com]

The Big Bang Theory, Sheldon/Amy, unexpected pregnancy

Filled: TBBT, Love & Primates

[trippy41.livejournal.com]

Sheldon put the phone down again and began to pace the strip of carpet in front of the couch. Even his spot didn’t look appealing at the moment.

“Sheldon, would you sit down?” Leonard said, as he took another slice of cheeseless pizza and settled back into the couch, his legs tucked under so Sheldon wouldn’t step on his toes. “You’re making me dizzy just watching you.”

“Leonard, I’m sorry for your weak stomach and juvenile constitution, but I’m feeling anxious over my girlfriend here, so have a little sympathy.”

“I’m sure Amy’s fine. Sit down and eat,” Leonard said around the slice of pizza in his mouth.

“Fine?" Sheldon stopped pacing and faced his roommate. “How is Amy fine? She’s late for pizza night and she hasn’t returned my calls. What if she was carjacked? Or joined a gang? Would she be fine then?”

“Sheldon, Amy hasn’t joined a gang,” Leonard, finished with his slice, left the crust on his plate and rubbed his forehead, “or been carjacked.”

“How do you know? Do you know the statistics…?” Sheldon began, but his iPhone dinged in his pocket. He took it out and finally sat down once he saw Amy’s face on his screen. “Amy? Where have you been? Have you joined the Crips or the Bloods?”

“Sheldon quit blathering on. I’m in a crisis situation here!” Amy pointed behind her.

“You must be if you forgot pizza night.” Sheldon could see she was in the Rhesus monkey lab, “Is that Ricky I see? How’s the emphysema coming along?”

“Splendidly,” Amy replied, “which is my problem. I felt bad for putting him on oxygen, so I thought I’d give him one night to remember a few weeks ago, before I dissect his brain.”

“A night to remember? He’s a primate whose number is up, about to kick the bucket, to bite the dust, to shed this mortal coil…”

“Sheldon, would you quit it with the colloquiums for death? My problem is I let him in the cage with Babette, and now…”

“Now?”

“Babette is pregnant! With child, knocked up, a bun in the oven, up the duff…”

“Okay, I get the idea without the colloquialisms.”

“The problem is, Babette wasn’t my research Rhesus monkey, and now I’m in trouble because she was scheduled for dissection next week for Dr. Adler’s research on the effect of horny primates and now she has to wait.”

Sheldon shook his head, “Well Amy, I don’t know exactly how to help, except to offer Dr. Adler Leonard’s brain to scan.”

Leonard, still sitting on the couch picking on another piece of cheeseless pizza looked up sharply at Sheldon. He thinks he might have just been insulted. Dr. Adler was hot, though.

End.

[uberniftacular]

Castle, Ryan/Esposito, steampunk AU

no fill but...

[mahmfic.livejournal.com]

LOVE.