comment_fic | Tuesday: Female Characters

Tuesday: Female Characters

merryghoul here again, and it's now time to show love to our female characters. Femslash, gen, or solo fics, it's all welcome, as long as there are female characters present.

The rules:

No more than three prompts to a single fandom
No more than five prompts at a time
No spoilers in the prompts and if your fill has spoilers, please warn and and leave at least three spaces

Format:

Fandom, Character, Prompt
Fandom, Character/Character, Prompt

Examples:

Leverage, Parker/Sophie, forced to dance together
Torchwood, Tosh/Suzie, celebrating Suzie's birthday
Sherlock, Donovan, a break from the Yard and Sherlock

Can't find anything that matches your interests? There's always the lonely prompts.

tag=FemaleCharacters

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Everytime Mary lets herself be distracted she starts imagining him growing up happy and strong, working alongside his brother and father in the yard, going on dates, bringing her flowers in the springtime for no other reason than that she is his mother. Mary imagines him hugging her around the calf, face pressing into her hip the way Dean is just tall enough to do now and huging her around the shoulders as Mary stands in the kitchen making the family breakfast when he's older.

Then reality slaps her in the face.

Yes, he may have all of that for a time but one day a man will come for him and Mary worries that even with all her daddy taught her about hunting she won't be able to save him.

She makes an appointment, just once, for an abortion. Better the child is dead than to let that monster have him. Mary has her purse in hand and is about to call out to John that she is going out for the afternoon when something stops her.

Dean is sitting in the middle of the living room, toys spread around him like a ring of gaurds as he colors in his muppet babies coloring book.

If she doesn't have this baby to give to the demon, what happens to her other baby? Would he take Dean instead or would he simply kill John and Dean, removing the lives that weren't supposed to be here in the first place?

Mary sits on the floor and cries for hours. Nothing John or Dean does can comfort her. An hour before her appointment she calls the clinic and cancels. The woman on the phone is very understanding, reassuring her that a lot of women find themselves changing their mind at the last minute, finding a new depth of love for the unborn child that they hadn't known existed. Mary thanks her and hangs up, feeling sick to her stomach.

It worries John that Mary no longer takes care of herself the last few months of her pregnancy but she refuses to talk about what's bothering her. She just presses Dean close and whispers over nad over that everything will be all right.

It is, perhaps, the only time in his existance that someone will sacrafice everything that is Samuel Winchester to protect his brother Dean. Perhaps it is, subconciously, the reason Dean is willing to sacrafice everything for his brother.

Edited 2012-07-21 23:09 (UTC)

All Claire's life there has been times when someone who was definitely not Claire's Daddy has peeked out of Daddy's eyes. Someone who kissed her forehead and said "I love you, sweetheart" in a way that was just not quite right.

There are times when Daddy has to go away a those times Mama cries and prays harder.

The Not-Daddy man comes to her one day almost a year after she last saw Daddy. He tells her he is sorry and that there is a need for men like her Daddy. And women too.

And then it's just Daddy again. He cries as he holds her close whispering over and over again "I'm sorry, Sweetheart. I'm so, so sorry." Claire hugs her Daddy as hard as she can and promises herself that someday she'll be as brave as him.

When Not-Daddy returns she learns his name is Castiel. This time he wants to take her away. Claire is scared and just wants to be held by her Daddy, but Daddy is hurt and the only way to make everything ok is to say yes. To let an angel look out trough her eyes the way he once did through Daddy's.

She opens her mouth to say yes but Daddy beats her too it.

It's years before Claire realizes that it was faith he had thought lost long before that made Daddy demand to take her place. Daddy had faith in Castiel even if he had lost faith in God.

Sometimes Claire sees Castiel watching her. From across the street. From a park bench. From the window of a passing car. She knows that he's keeping his promise to Daddy and it keeps her from losing all faith in God.

Oh god, it hurts so much and this line "Would he take Dean instead or would he simply kill John and Dean, removing the lives that weren't supposed to be here in the first place?" ... killed me.

thank you for the fill

You're welcome! :D

Anne rushed around the kitchen trying to get breakfast ready and a lunch prepared for the men. Rafe, Rock, and Joe were getting the ranch prepared for the cold winter months. There were leaks in the roof that needed to be repaired. There was wood that needed to be chopped and stacked. JT had started that job but the men had refused to let him continue once they learned the younger man was expecting. Now JT took care of lighter jobs around the ranch.

Grabbing a potholder Anne opened the woodstove and removed a pan of biscuits. Placing the pan aside she turned her attention back to bacon she was frying. She could hear the sound of someone stomping off their boots on the back porch. They had gotten a light snow overnight but Anne new it wouldn’t be long before the real storms happen and she wouldn’t be able to make it into town for weeks at a time. She had a list of supplies already written out as she planned to go into town after breakfast was finished.

The kitchen door opened and JT entered placing a pail of fresh milk and a basket of eggs on the counter. Once his hands were empty, Anne noticed the younger man try in vein to pull his winter coat closed. "I got the eggs and milk Anne. I’ve got the horses hitched to the wagon too. Do you need me to bring in more wood for the stove?" JT walked over to stand beside Anne at the stove. Warming his hands and also taking advantage of the closeness JT stole a piece of bacon.

Anne swatted JT's hand.."No stealing young man." She scolded, trying to keep from grinning.

"It's not for me..it's for the baby." JT tried to defend himself, rubbing his belly.

Anne smiled then, removing the last slice of bacon from the pan she reached out tugging on the coat before rubbing JT's belly. Anne turned a serious expression on the young man. “JT I think it’s time we get you some maternity clothes. “

“Does this mean I get my good shirt back?” Rock asked as he entered the kitchen and took a seat at the table.

Rafe entered the room right behind Rock. “Just be happy the kid hasn’t stolen your pants yet.” He teased.

“Don’t think he hasn’t tried. “ Rock laughed.

“Yeah, well what does that say about you? That your pants are still too big for your pregnant husband.” JT teased.

“It means that our Mrs. Anne is a good cook.” Rock replied helping himself to the food as Anne placed it on the table.

“Rock If I didn’t know better I’d think you were the pregnant one. I swear you’ve put on more weight that JT.” Rafe laughed.

“I’m just building my strength up before the little one arrives.” Rock replied. Gently he tugged JT down beside his and urged the younger man to fill his plate.

CFT CFT CFT

Margret and Gene Thompson rushed out onto the board walk when JT brought the horses to a stop and set the brake on the wagon. “There you are!! I told Gene if you didn’t make it into town this week we were going to have to make a special trip out to the ranch.” Margret said, barely containing herself while Gene helped Anne down from the wagon. JT had barely gotten his boots on the ground before Margret had him in a hug.

“Ohhh! look at that little belly. “ Margret chuckled as she rubbed JT’s stomach. “That little one is really starting to grow.”

“Yeah, that’s why we are here. I kinda need some new clothes.” JT replied, it still caught him off guard the way everyone went for his stomach but he know that they only wanted to share in the little miracle growing inside him.

“We’ll let’s get the two of you out of this cold air, come on inside. “ Margret urged them into the store. “JT I bet you’re hungry. I baked a nice chocolate cake yesterday, one your thru here you come on back to the kitchen for a slice and some milk. I’ve got to go check on the soup I have on the stove. Anne I’ve got coffee on for you too.”

“Yes Ma’am. I will.” JT said

Gene walked over to the counter and reached for a large book. “I’m sorry we just never had a need to carry maternity clothing for men. We can check to see what is on offer though.” Gene Thompson said as he turned the pages of the black and white mail order catalogue, stopping when he reached the section for male maternity clothing.

JT made a face at the drawings that he saw on the paper. “If this is all they have then I think I’ll just keep wearing what I have.”

“JT they are not that bad.” Anne said.

“They are all fancy with the ruffles and collars. Rock would never let me hear the end of it.” JT looked at Anne with pleading eyes. Anne sighed, looking down at the book she had to admit the clothing was meant for the well to do in the big cities. The Clothing was something the husbands of wealthy business men, doctors, and lawyers wore.

“Well then, we will just have to improvise won’t we? Now why don’t you go on back and satisfy that sweet tooth I know you have. While I see what I can find.“

“No ruffles Anne.” JT restated.

“I promise JT no ruffles.” Anne assured.

CFT CFT CFT

“There we go!” Anne said stepping back and admiring her handy work. She had taken a strip of fabric hemmed it and added button holes along one edge and buttons along the other. The piece grew wider as it passed JT chest allowing his belly room to grow.

“I can’t believe it worked.” JT said smoothing down the front of his shirt. The fabric was the exact color of his blue shirt. JT’s fingers fiddling with the double row of buttons.

Anne smiled. “It’s not perfect but it will do. I’ll make one for your white shirt tomorrow. And I’ll see about a piece for your pants. If it doesn’t work I’ll just have to make you a new pair and worry about taking them in later.

“It’s more than perfect Anne, and just think, once I’m thru with them Rock can use them.” JT said

“Rock? Whatever do you mean JT? Don’t tell me Rock is expecting.” Anne said in shock.

“The only thing Rock is expecting is a good meal, and the way you’re providing them he’s gonna need more room in his own clothes.” JT laughed and pulled Anne in for a hug. “Thanks Anne, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The kitchen door slammed open and Rafe and Rock entered the room. “something smells good, tell me Mrs. Anne, what have you got to feed a starving man?” Rock’s voice boomed thru the house, the Irish man rubbing his belly in anticipation.”

Anne laughed and turned toward JT. “It might be better if I made him his own set now rather than have him wait for yours.”

End

Lol I loved it!!! sounds to me like Rock's starting to get fat lol

yeah Rock is putting on a few pounds. think of it as a sympathy pregancy.. hes eating for two.. himself and jt's leftovers LOL

Lol that makes me wonder if JT will do the same thing when Rock is expecting the twins ^^

She didn’t have to think about it, pulling the trigger.

The perp was agitated. He had a gun, he had a hostage, and he had nowhere to run. The perp was ready and willing to kill the little boy, the barrel of his gun pressed hard against the child’s temple.

The defense could later come up with a compelling case for the suspect, why he didn’t have to die: horribly abused as a child, slipped through the cracks of the mental health system, failure of the police to follow through with a complete investigation when he first started abducting and killing kids.

But that won’t console the family of the twelve-year-old boy when the perp pulls the trigger.

So Olivia pulled hers. Kill shot.

She didn’t have to think about it, and her superiors would agree.

♥ ♥ ♥

So, so Olivia. Thank you for the fill! :D

As the front door clicks shut behind her, Martha tenses. Everything in the hallway is exactly as she left it; the carefully balanced golf umbrella, the jacket on the coat rack that hangs at just the right angle to show the bottom corner of the logo. And yet, there’s the smallest draught of wind that makes its way down the stairs and swirls around her shoulders. She knows that there are no windows open upstairs, and all of the doors should be closed.

She reaches into her open bag for her gun, a souvenir more than a weapon up until now, courtesy of her employers. Sure, she’s wielded it when she’s had to, held it high and steady for all to see, but she’s never had to pull the trigger. Not when it mattered.

And it matters now, she realises as the faintest of shadows paints the wall at the top of the stairs.

“Come out where I can see you,” she calls out, voice held as strongly as her gun as she unclicks the safety catch. The shadow darkens before giving way to a sturdy figure as he makes his way down the stairs, hands held knowingly at his sides. Her gaze drifts upward, taking in the tight black trousers, the t-shirt that’s cut to maximise the exposure of the biceps that flex even now, and finally, the crossbow and quiver slung over one shoulder.

When he gets to the final step, he stops and grins. “Hi, Martha.” His tone is friendly, and for once it’s hard for her to accurately place its level of sincerity.

“Well, you already know my name, so how about you tell me yours?” she asks evenly, arms still locked to hold the gun level with his chest.

“Barton, Clint Barton.” And then he snickers to himself. “Sorry, I gotta stop doing the whole James Bond thing, but I can’t help it. Don’t even realise I’m doing it now.”

She looks pointedly at his shoulder. “I hate to break it to you, but the British secret service has come a long way since medieval times.” He has the humility to look sheepish, and it gives her the encouragement to continue. “So, Clint Barton, do you want to tell me why you’re here?”

He nods, his mood sobering quickly. “I’m here to offer you a job. Or more specifically, I’m here to take you to my boss, since he’s the one who can offer you a job.”

“I have a job,” she states carefully.

“Sure you do. You have your fake one at Guy’s and St. Thomas’ hospital that you diligently clock in and out of every morning and evening, and you have your real one at UNIT, fighting bad guys and keeping the planet safe.”

Her grip on the gun tightens. “How do you know that?”

His only response is a knowing tap of the side of his nose. Slowly, she lowers the gun.

“This is a strictly legitimate business offer,” he tells her. “All you have to do is come with me and listen to what the Director has to say. If you don’t like the sound of it, you can leave and get on with your life here. If you do like what he says, well, then you and I can get to know each other better.” He gives her that easy smile again, skin wrinkling around the eyes, and she has to admit that he’s certainly the friendliest man to ever break into her house.

[...and the rest is here (http://purple-cube.livejournal.com/142953.html)]

natural_blue_26 said, this is very Olivia Benson. Thanks for the fill!

(A/N: Sorry, I’m not sure how accurate this is; all I know about Isis is from Wikipedia.)

The palaces of the old gods are now buried under the sand. That’s the way of the desert: the slow drifting creep of time climbing grain by grain above your highest monument, the kiss of erosion gently scraping away with every gust and breeze. They lay, forgotten and alone, underneath the same sand that has swallowed millions of their followers. From dust to dust.

But still, like dust, I’ll rise. For I am the sands and the winds of nature. I am the mother; I am the wife. I have lived in hundreds of incarnations, embraced all my followers and been loved by all. I have suckled gods and sons of gods. And while the people remain, so too shall I.

Lovely imagery.

Drinks at the usual place, please, for the love of god, she texts Pepper. Someone is GOING TO DIE if I spend tonight sober.

I'll have the usual waiting, Pepper replies promptly.

Maria sighs into her hands. Fucking superpowered assholes, and fucking billionaires. And fucking Coulson for running off to be director and leaving her this - this debacle masquerading as Earth's mightiest heroes.

.

She, like everyone else born after WWII, grew up on stories of Captain America and his Howling Commandoes. It wasn’t till she was an adult working in covert ops that she began reading between the lines and realized the Captain America and his badass team couldn’t have possibly been as squeaky clean as the books made them out to be.

She spent most of her adolescence crushing on Bucky Barnes for his movie star looks and utter devotion to the determined shrimp that became Captain America. She grew out of it, of course, and all of the Commandoes and their Captain was just another part of history.

Steve Rogers, though. Wow. History doesn’t seem to remember how angry he is, and how adorable, and the way he can hold a straight face through anything.

.

Maria didn’t meet Natasha Romanoff until about a month after Barton brought her in. Coulson put in a good word, which was the only reason Romanoff didn’t disappear to never be seen again.

Based on the rumors and supposition, Romanoff was supposed to be the most dangerous woman in the world, even though she looked maybe 20 in the right light. That first meeting, though, convinced Maria that the rumors didn’t give her enough credit.

And Barton – Barton is a goddamned tragedy, but damned if he doesn’t make impossible shots every time. (That’s why, after the Battle of Manhattan, she tells him to go to ground and wait to be called in. He saved her life. He saved hundreds of lives because he could’ve made that attack on the Helicarrier go so much smoother. And if no one else wanted to see it, she knew it, and Fury knew it, and she wasn’t going to let him be scapegoated for any of that clusterfuck at all.)

.

Stark. Fucking Stark. The only reason she puts up with him because Pepper says he’s a good man at heart, even though he does his best to never ever show it.

But – he did fly a nuke through a portal, and he did take in every single SHIELD agent that needed sanctuary. So.

He’s got a goddamned heart. He’s still an insufferable jackass.

.

Bruce Banner, though. Dr. Banner she likes. He’s a soothing presence. He’s possibly the most dangerous person on the whole planet, but he tries so hard to not be threatening. And he’s got the best deadpan she’s ever seen.

.

Hooboy, Thor. Thor is… there are no words for Thor. At least Dr. Foster and Lewis have taught him to respect electronics because Stark’s rants about lightning got real old, real fast.

(And there’s no way he’s as stupid as he acts, but it is goddamned hilarious.)

.

On the whole, Maria thought she had everything in hand until a ghost followed Steve Rogers home. Yeah, Steve had been busy blowing up shit right and left and center, with another adrenaline junky following him, and Romanoff was riding herd on Barton (who had taken Maria’s order to hide far too well, and didn’t even call it in when he got shot in the goddamned gut, fucking Barton, you goddamned tragedy), and Fury was off the grid, and Coulson was trying to build SHIELD back up despite his own hero burning it down, but she had it all under control, she really did.

But Bucky fucking Barnes. What the ever loving fuck.

.

“It’ll be alright, Maria, I promise,” Pepper says soothingly, gesturing for refills. “You and I, we’ll make sure of it.”

“He just… he looks so sad,” Maria says into the absolutely gorgeous tablecloth. “And so young! Shit, Pepper, they’re both so fucking young, what is wrong with this world.”

She’s barely older than them, if you don’t count the years Steve spent frozen and – and whatever the fuck Hydra did to Barnes, but it’s just…

“Steve’s always lookin’ at him,” she says, “and he’s always lookin’ back, and it’s just so sad, Pepper, it’s so fucking sad, fuck, Hydra died too easy, I swear to God. And Pierce!” She slams the drink back and holds the glass out. “Pierce, that absolute bastard, he, he –”

She really thought she knew the worst of humanity, but Bucky Barnes’ entire existence has proved her wrong.

“I know,” Pepper says. “But they’ve got us looking out for them now, don’t they?” She nudges the refill over.

“As soon it’s all situated,” Maria says, looking around and leaning in, “Romanoff’s finding me a few of the Hydra bastards that are left. Wanna come?”

A lick of flame flares up in Pepper’s eyes and she smiles. “Darling, I’d love to.”

I love every single bit of this (especially that bit about the tragedy and the gut wound and throwing her mental hands up at him).

Thank you! It was a bunch of fun.

(Goes Molly/Lestrade at the end, hope that's ok!)

*
"You're insane... completely insane."

The words fall unbidden from Molly's lips and the Doctor turns to her, gives her that grin that never fails to reassure and exasperate her in equal measure. "Never!" he tells her, placing extra emphasis on the first syllable. "Safe as houses."

Molly feels her eyes widen as she watches him point his toe towards the stream of bright orange lava flowing past them. "In a contest between Converse and lava, I'm fairly sure lava would win actually."

"And you would be wrong!" He says the last with a triumphant note to his voice as he places his foot carefully (very carefully, she notes, no matter how confident he appears) on the liquid. Much to Molly's amazement, he does not erupt into flames, doesn't let his foot linger too long but when he pulls it back, there is the perfect imprint of the sole of his Converse trainer visible. "See, people think lava's a liquid, like water, but it's actually much more viscous... more like really thick custard. Mmmm... Custard. You know, I'm getting hungry, are you hungry?"

He begins to lope back to the TARDIS, leaving Molly looking after him. "Insane," she murmurs, shaking her head as she begins to follow him.

*

"You're insane... completely insane."

It's not the first time she's thought that about Sherlock Holmes, although it's one of the few times that she's said it out loud. She's always enjoyed his particular brand of lunacy though - well, most of the time, a certain Christmas party disproves the 'always' tag - and she tells herself that traveling with the Doctor prepared her well for Sherlock and his idiosyncrasies.

Today though, she's not in the mood to put up with him. She's tired from working nine days straight, stomach queasy from lack of sleep and lack of food and she can't take Sherlock Holmes thinking he's the cleverest person in the world.

Even if he might be.

He turns to her and his blue eyes give her a look of such haughty disdain that she wants to slap him. "Perhaps," he says simply. "But I'm still right."

Molly shakes her head. "No," she says, setting her jaw stubbornly. "You're not."

"Tiredness, nausea, weight gain, pale face suggesting your iron levels are being used somewhere new?"

"I have not-"

Sherlock continues as if she hasn't spoken. "Molly, it's perfectly obvious that you're pregnant, furthermore as a doctor I'd have thought you'd have worked it out before now. Although, if you're really sure you're not, would you like this coffee?"

He thrusts a steaming mug under her nose and Molly reaches for it.

Then the smell hits her nostrils and her stomach flips and the last thing she sees before she turns away to be violently ill is the smug look in his blue eyes.

*

For a long time, Molly felt that the men in her life were associated with the colour blue, the Doctor with his TARDIS, Sherlock with the most amazing blue eyes she's seen anywhere, on any world.

She's always loved blue, but not so much anymore.

Because while with the Doctor, she may have seen the wonders of the universe, with Sherlock she might have witnessed wonders of the mind, it took Greg Lestrade to bring colour into her life, to make her see just what she'd been missing.

Every morning now a pair of brown eyes smile at her, and she smiles back as she pulls him close, runs her fingers through his silver hair. The pink of his tongue as he swipes if unconsciously over his lips as he pulls her close makes her heart beat faster and the white flash of his teeth when he laughs makes her want to laugh too.

But it's the look on his face when a red cross appears on a white piece of plastic that means most of all.

Aw, this is sweet! hah. Lava against Converse! :)

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Page 11 of 11

Tuesday: Female Characters

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Fill, L&O SVU

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1/2: spoilers for up to Cap2; warning for language

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