Look Out, It's Tuesday!

[classics-lover.livejournal.com]

Good Tuesday, my doves, I am still classics_lover and I am still this week's hostess. Today, darlings, I want you to look out the window and be inspired because today's theme is WEATHER.

Maybe your characters have nothing better to talk about than whether it might rain, maybe two characters are trapped in the snow, maybe your fandom is suffering through the hottest summer since records began. Go wild with it. As long as there is weather in the prompts and fills it's all good.

The Rules:

>You may post up to five prompts
>You may not post more than three prompts in the same fandom
>If one of your prompts is filled you may prompt again
>No spoilers in prompts
>If a fill contains spoilers then give a warning in the header and leave plenty of space

Prompts should look like this:

Fandom, Character+/Character, Prompt
Fandom 1/Fandom 2, Character+/Character, Prompt

And finally, to get ye going, some examples:

Assassin's Creed 1/Assassin's Creed Revelations, Altair, how does he deal with the wintry conditions Ezio experiences?
Tortall, any, "Gods, not *more* rain!"
Torchwood, Jack/Ianto (+ ensemble), "Why is it snowing in August?" "I don't care, I'm making a Snow-Weevil on the Plass!"

GO FORTH AND PROMPT!

Comments

[classics-lover.livejournal.com]

Assassin's Creed 1/Assassin's Creed Revelations, Altair, how does he deal with the wintry conditions Ezio experiences?

AC1, Hammam, dear God I cannot write slash to save my life...

[xahra99.livejournal.com]

(this is not slash)

Hammam:

Part one:

It was a cold winter. Malik made his normal rounds at considerably less-than-normal speed, bent nearly double by the force of the wind. The weather gave his temper a vicious edge as he stalked the ramparts, putting the fear of God, or at least the fear of Malik, into any Assassin guard who thought that the harsh weather merited a lapse in concentration.
You think that is standing guard? A novice would show more skill. I could stand watch better than that myself, and I have one hand!
Do you think the Templars will not attack because it is cold? They come from the north! From a land that is locked in perpetual winter! They are used to the cold! Now, stand guard another hour, and then you shall learn what cold is!
Do I need anything? I need what only you can provide; your absence. Go back to your post.
They'd been rotating the gate guards on two hourly watches, but eventually even Malik was forced to admit that that was not enough. He changed the watch to hourly shifts and did what he should have done much earlier. Abbas was not pleased by Malik delegating the watch command to him, but then Abbas never was.
Malik fought the fierce wind all the way to Al Mualim's garden. His arm ached. He rubbed at the stump of his left arm with his right hand, a habit that usually eased the pain. The massage failed to work, but then again, his hand was even colder than the rest of him.
He opened a door in the corner of the garden and slipped through, emerging in a small stone antechamber barely warmer than the garden outside. He went through into a smaller room, slightly warmer, and a third which was warmer still, shedding layers as he went. He didn't meet anyone. He didn't particularly want to meet anyone.
The fourth room was warm enough to raise a sweat. Malik laid his weapons on a low marble bench and stripped efficiently, taking a towel from a small pile on the bench. A hanging carpet served as a doorway. Malik ducked under the carpet into a fog of warm muggy steam. He immediately felt his muscles began to relax.
Masyaf had a communal hammam, but this one was much smaller, a legacy of Al Mualim's rule. The Old Man had preached asceticism, it was true, but he had allowed himself certain pleasures. Malik was much less likely to be disturbed.
He knelt beneath a thin stream of lukewarm water that trickled from the wall and scrubbed himself until the freezing garden and the ignorant novices were little more than an unpleasant memory. Once he was clean he ran his hand through his hair, took his towel and ducked under a low door into the steam room.
Altaïr was sprawled upon a bench. The Grand Master of the Masyaf Assassins looked like he was sleeping, but Malik could tell from the twitch of one eyelid that Altaïr was wide awake. He nearly turned around and walked back out into the cold. He had come to the hammam to escape from his work. The last thing he needed was Altaïr.
He cleared his throat. "It has occurred to me before that hammams are a perfect location for assassination."
"You would not get five paces," Altaïr said without opening his eyes."Close the door."
"Six," said Malik. "I had not expected to find you here." It was very late. He had not expected to find anyone here.
"If nothing is true and everything is permitted, it is permitted for me to share the baths. Now close the door."
Malik closed the door. "Of course, Grand Master."
"It would sound better if you meant it," Altaïr said drowsily.

[classics-lover.livejournal.com]

Tortall, any, "Gods, not *more* rain!"

[classics-lover.livejournal.com]

Torchwood, Jack/Ianto (+ ensemble), "Why is it snowing in August?" "I don't care, I'm making a Snow-Weevil on the Plass!"

[classics-lover.livejournal.com]

Any, any/any, Bad weather is an inadvertent matchmaker (i.e., huddling together for dryness/warmth creates a different kind of heat)

No fill - yet

[rei382.livejournal.com]

Would a slash do? (Was thinking Ed/Roy frm FMA)

Couldn't Resist!

[classics-lover.livejournal.com]

Any, any (+/any), Julius Caesar and the Roman Empire/Couldn't conquer the blue sky Crowded House, Weather With You

Re: Couldn't Resist!

[tigriswolf]

... *blinks* Do you remember the really old guy who stood on the stage with both Caesar and the Rolling Stones? Because if I write this, it's so not going to be funny or crack at all, and I can't tell if you wanted the fill to be funny or not.

[evil-little-dog.livejournal.com]

Any fandom with magic, Any, Just because you can change the weather to suit your needs doesn't mean you should.

No fill yet

[classics-lover.livejournal.com]

This reminds me of Sabrina the Teenage witch, when they'd be annoyed they'd call down lightning. I want to try something in Tortall like that... *ponders*

[evil-little-dog.livejournal.com]

The X-Files, Mulder+Scully, "It's raining frogs." "Again?!?"

[evil-little-dog.livejournal.com]

Fullmetal Alchemist, Edward/Winry, Automail sucks during a lot of different types of weather.

[elfgirljen.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Sam or Dean, "I'm pretty sure the weather forecast didn't call for a plague of locuts today!"

Fill: Now, For the Weather

[ilcuoreardendo.livejournal.com]

“…working very closely with local authorities…”

“Sam.”

“…to meet with you and ask you a few questions…“

“Sam.”

“…great, yes, see you then—“

“Sam!”

“What, Dean?” Sam pockets his phone, shoots a glare at his brother.

“Incoming.”

Sam looks up. Two blocks ahead it’s as though a giant hand spilled a filter of coffee grounds across the sky and street; coffee grounds that writhe and squirm and whirl against the sky like sentient smoke. That annoying drone Sam had dismissed as faraway construction is coming rapidly closer.

“…Shit.”

Out of the many sudden flights they’ve taken over the years, Sam’s pretty sure two men running down Main Street of Small Town, USA being chased by a cloud of locusts is probably one of the most ridiculous.

And as he flings himself into the front passenger seat of the Impala, he considers the fact that he’s a grown man…a hunter…running from a swarm of bugs.

Dean’s breathing harshly in the driver’s seat, so he doesn’t feel too badly.

And when the locusts begin slamming into the Impala’s windows and roof with sounds like muffled shotgun bursts, he feels even better, snugly safe and gut-free inside the metal exoskeleton.

“Oh, come on,” Dean says, watching the guts splatter across the windshield, the shining black hood. “I just had her waxed.” He turned to Sam. “You didn’t know anything about this? No signs? No visions, Madame Blavatsky? No weather reports?”

Sam scoffed. “If the weather man had predicted a plague of locusts to go along with the rising atmospheric pressure, Dean, I’d have let you know.”

[with-rainfall.livejournal.com]

Any, any, snowglobes that reflect the current weather

Fill: White Collar, Peter

[sapphire2309]

He really shouldn't have opened the package, even if for the sole reason that it was from Moz.

He had to admit, though, he was rather surprised to open it and find a snow globe, little specks of glitter dancing in a reasonable imitation of the snowfall outside.

He set it down on the bookshelf and was just thankful that it wasn't a Rai stone.



It was weeks before the snow globe caught his eye again. Winter had melted into spring and their garden had started to look a little more garden like.

And the snow globe had changed.

The glitter wasn't frosty silver but a far warmer yellow, strangely reminiscent of little rays of sunshine that you sometimes had the good fortune of seeing with the naked eye.

No. Dear god, no. He was not hallucinating an interactive snowglobe. Or spring-globe - snowglobe probably didn't apply if it wasn't snowing. Or did it?

Peter leaned in to get a closer look. And blinked.

Once. Twice. Thrice.

The leaves were moving. And not in the 'oh, someone shook the snowglobe,' way but a 'there's a gentle breeze blowing from right to left within the confines of enclosed glass' way.

He leaned back.

This was a Moz conspiracy to drive him mad.

[with-rainfall.livejournal.com]

Any, any seer, prophesying rain

Fill: BtVS, Drusilla/Spike

[foxstarreh.livejournal.com]

He wakes up in pain, the way he always seems to wake up lately, to find Drusilla’s nails dragging, none too gently, over the weeping burns that mar his chest. When he moans, from pain, pleasure, but mostly pain, she smiles at him.

He hasn’t been outside in over a week.

Hell, he’s barely been upstairs in that time. He’s lucky if Dru feeds him, much less helps him clean off. Means well, his girl does, but she hasn’t got a clue what needs doing to take care of him. Takes good care of her dolls and all, but a vamp’s gotta eat, gotta move, gotta not lie in his own piss for however long he was out for and she didn’t notice.

Still, she’s doing her best. Brings him someone to eat as often as she can remember to, and helps him get in and out of bed, even if she usually leaves him down below, even if this is at least the third time he’s been woken up like this.

“It’s going to be beautiful, my darling.” Drusilla purrs to herself, evidentially oblivious to the fact that he hasn’t got a clue what she’s on about this time. She leaves his wounds alone for the moment and crawls to him on her hands and knees. “I saw it.”

Spike concentrates on not flinching too much when she touches his cheek. She doesn’t mean to hurt him, he knows. Won’t do to upset her for something she didn’t mean anyway. “A vision, pet?” His vision’s a bit blurry from the swelling and bruises he knows still litter his face and he squints to see her more clearly. “Did you have a vision?”

Dru hums a bit to herself, eyes glassy and far away. “The rain will make things better, luv. It promises to bring us back our losses.” Her lips part and her expression turns euphoric. “Oh, oh.”

“Dru?”

“Oh, it’s wonderful.” Her laughter is light, elated, the most beautiful thing he’s heard in the muffled weeks trapped down below the surface. Her eyes refocus on him now, and she smiles a smile of pure delight. “Let’s have a party.”

[with-rainfall.livejournal.com]

Any, any, this weather reminds them of _____

1/2 - Highlander/Avengers, Methos/ex-Winter Soldier

[tigriswolf]

(follows this, where Methos tamed the ex-Winter Soldier with kindness, and now has Steve on his side, too. Past-Steve/Bucky.)

...


"It's beautiful," Steve says, carefully looking out over the water instead of at Benjamin. Benjamin's in a pair of dark swim trunks, torso and metal arm bare to the world and Steve has to constantly remind himself not to look.

Each of those scars on Benjamin’s skin is another punch in the face. Is the voice that talked him through fevers blankly asking who the hell is bucky?

"It's quiet," Benjamin says after a moment. "Would you like to sit?"

Steve sits.

.

Benjamin is not Bucky. It only takes Steve a couple of days to stop tripping over the name, to stop comparing the two. (Well. It only takes Steve a couple of days to figure out how to hide that he is comparing the two.) Matthew mostly ignores him (except for smirks) and Steve can go anywhere on the island that he wants save for a biometrically locked door that leads to what Benjamin calls ‘the war room’ when Steve asks.

Benjamin smiles a lot. He reads really bad science fiction novels and tells Steve things he’s never wanted or needed to know about ancient cultures and various royal dynasties. Sometimes, he spends whole days tucked over a notebook, writing something long hand that eats Steve up alive with curiosity, but he will not break Benjamin’s shaky trust.

Because that’s the thing. Steve knows it’s a holdover from Bucky, but Benjamin trusts him. Nowhere near as much as he trusts Matthew, but Benjamin does trust him.

So Steve’s days are full of runs along the beach, sketching the landscape, watching the news on Matthew’s satellite TV (it hasn’t been leaked, yet, that Captain America is missing), catching up on the few shows he actually likes. Benjamin has a list of terrible SyFy channel movies, so at night, the three of them eat whatever Matthew prepared for dinner and check another movie off.

This is not at all what Steve thought would happen when he met Benjamin at Coney Island.

.

“You’re more patient than I gave you credit for, Captain,” Matthew says on the thirty-third morning. He’s leaning against the sink, smirking, wearing a loose pair of sweatpants than hang off him. Which means they’re Benjamin’s.

Steve clenches his jaw and looks away. Matthew laughs softly.

“Ruling through fear, Captain, is something I can manage just fine on my own,” Matthew says. It sounds like the continuation of a conversation he and Steve never had, but it does get Steve to look at him again. “I have, in fact, at different points in my life.” He’s smiling, gazing at something that isn’t there. Steve shivers and guesses why. “Ruling through fear is easy.”

“You want a figurehead,” Steve says, meeting Matthew’s gaze when it focuses on him. “Someone who can draw everyone’s attention while you direct them like a puppet on strings.”

Matthew nods. “Alexander Pierce was a tyrant-in-the-making, just like Johann Schmidt. They had vision but lacked the finesse to truly succeed.” His lips twitch but not exactly in a smile. “They lacked the experience.”

“Which you have,” Steve says.

“Yes.” Matthew grins, bright and wide. He looks no more than thirty at the oldest, decades younger than Schmidt and Pierce both.

Steve and Benjamin look that young, too. But Matthew isn’t strong like them. His senses are sharp, yes, but not superhuman. His reflexes are as fast as Natasha’s, maybe faster, but not up to Steve and Benjamin’s.

“What is the endgame?” Steve asks. He’s in, he knows he’s in. Whatever it is… as long as it doesn’t destroy the world. And maybe even then.

“The age of god-kings and warlords is over, Captain Rogers,” Matthew tells him, uncrossing his arms and turning to grab a mug from the cabinet. He walks to the fridge and pulls out a jug of pineapple juice (homemade, Steve knows). “The world is too large for any one person to rule. That is why every attempt has failed.”

[with-rainfall.livejournal.com]

Emelan, Niko & Tris, he prefers staying inside in wild weather

[silver_sun]

Any, Any(/Any), There's something moving in the fog.

1/3: Highlander/Marvel movies, gen, OC

[tigriswolf]

(follows this; basically, Methos has taken the ex-Winter Soldier under his wing and is in the midst of a scheme to shuffle world power around to suit his whims. He's also got Steve Rogers with him. This fill, however, is from an OC outside pov, so none of that knowledge is necessary.)

(Also, Highlander: Endgame didn't happen.)

...

Sid feels the buzz while he’s out getting his morning coffee on the way to work. He covertly glances around Starbucks; the staff are all the usual people and none of them have ever felt like pre-immortals, so he dismisses them. After he gives his order to Frankie, he loiters at the side of the counter, trying to figure out who is new and who isn’t.

He can’t be sure, but Sid finally settles on the only guy tripping his danger-signal: a big guy with dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, wearing a black sweatshirt and jogging pants, hands tucked into the pockets of the sweatshirt. The guy’s hunched in and seemingly lost in his own head, but Sid’s had 500 years to hone his instincts. This is the source of the buzz. The guy, though… he either has no idea what’s going on or he’s the best actor Sid’s seen since that time Amanda got him in trouble with the bishop.

After grabbing his latté, Sid leaves Starbucks and stays within range of the buzz. He calls his boss to say he won’t be able to make it in: food poisoning. Apparently, there was something heinously wrong with his breakfast burrito.

Sid hasn’t fought a challenge in almost 50 years and something tells him he does not want to start with this guy. The best thing to do is observe and make a decision once enough data has been collected. The guy exits with three drinks in a drink tray and walks at a pretty good clip; he almost loses Sid twice, but Sid manages to keep up and follows the guy to a pretty nice hotel, not that far from his office, in fact, and decides to not draw attention by going in.

It almost feels like there’s another buzz in the hotel, but that’s unlikely. Sid heads home because he needs to err on the side of caution and practice his swordsmanship.

.

That night, Sid goes back to the hotel, slips in with a big crowd, and settles down in a chair in the lobby pretending to read a newspaper. He can feel the buzz so he knows the guy is somewhere in the hotel.

In his 500 years, Sid has fought thirteen challenges. He usually runs, but he’s invested in this life. He likes his job as a computer programmer, loves his apartment, and is pretty sure he’s falling for Yvette, the woman he’s been flirting with for eight months, who works in the PR for the company. He can’t really run anymore, anyway; he’d need more than a few days’ warning to create a new identity. He’s an emergency stash, of course, just in case, but he doesn’t want to.

So, he can either challenge the guy or wait until the guy challenges him; talk to the guy and see if he’s just passing through; or go home right now and forget about the guy.

The problem, of course, is that the guy had to have felt Sid’s buzz, even though Sid didn’t see any hint he did. So the guy might track him down, taking away any advantage Sid might have.

In the back of his head, Dixon laughs. He barely won his last challenge, and only did through tricks: he shot Dixon after Dixon proved Sid couldn’t win in a fair fight. Shot him and took his head. The guilt kept him up for about a week after, but… well. Sid likes life. Dixon’s quickening almost overwhelmed him in the first few minutes but Sid fought him down and ran. Didn’t stop running for a year because Dixon’s memories showed that he had a couple close friends and they’d miss him. Sid had even spotted a couple people who tripped his memory – he knew he’d seen them somewhere before but he couldn’t place them. So he ran.

Dixon was about 800, and his friends a little younger, which mean they all had at least two centuries on Sid. And this new guy, Sid has no idea how old he is. But he moves like the mercenaries who killed Sid, in his first life. Sid really doesn’t want to fight him.

[wrong-song.livejournal.com]

any, any, trapped in a snowstorm

[clwilson2006.livejournal.com]

SGA, Lorne/Parrish, soaked to the skin in a freak rainstorm

[radondoran.livejournal.com]

Welcome to Night Vale, Cecil or Kevin, "And now... the weather."

[radondoran.livejournal.com]

Any crime fandom, any, "Did you know, Putnam, more people are murdered at ninety-two degrees Fahrenheit than any other temperature? I read an article once — lower temperatures people are easy-going, over ninety-two it's too hot to move but just ninety-two, people get irritable!"

In Centigrade. Because England.

[daria234.livejournal.com]

"33.3 degrees," Sherlock read from the wall thermometer by the window.

Watson narrowed his eyes. "Why do you sound pleased?" he asked, already suspecting he wasn't going to like the answer.

"No reason... But just so you know, we may have a couple of new cases. Minor cases, perhaps, but at least we won't be completely bored."

"And you know that based on the temperature?"

"Basic deduction, Watson. You see--"

"Never mind. Don't explain, I don't want to know. It's hot out, and I'm going to relax with an icy drink and pretend I'm on a beach. Tell me when Lestrade calls."

Sherlock nodded. He gazed at the thermometer again, with the tiniest smile of satisfaction.

[debirlfan.livejournal.com]

Airwolf, Michael & ?, snowed in at Hawke's cabin.

[debirlfan.livejournal.com]

Castle, Castle/Beckett, hurricane hitting the city and the power is out.

[rei382.livejournal.com]

Harry Potter, Harry/Draco, winter at Hogwarts

[rei382.livejournal.com]

PotC, Jack/Will, being on a ship during a storm

mini-fill

[daria234.livejournal.com]

They were crammed in the tiny space under the floorboards, lying flat as the ship tossed like a feather in the brutal storm thundering around them. Every enormous wave threw Jack against Will's body, chest to chest, with Jack's hair flying wildly about.

"Are you sure this is the safest part of the ship?" Will said.

At that moment the waves hurled Jack onto him again, this time landing on his stomach, almost directly on Will. Will could feel Jack's hardness on his thigh.

Jack pushed himself back to the floor, looked at Will, and shrugged.

"I said safe from the storm. I didn't say anything about being safe from temptation."

Will rolled his eyes but couldn't help but let out a little laugh. "Some things are better on calmer seas, Jack," he said, tease in his eyes.

"I find no evidence of that to be the-- ahhgh elbows!!!" This time, Will was thrown on to Jack.

"Fine," Jack grumbled. "When the storm's over."

[rei382.livejournal.com]

Fullmetal Alchemist, Roy/Ed, rainy days (yeah yeah I know but it's a must!)

[tardisjournal.livejournal.com]

Torchwood, Jack/Ianto, "It's Raining Men" (The Weather Girls)

[with-rainfall.livejournal.com]

Harry Potter, any, relaxing on sunny days