Thursday: In the Deep Midwinter

[draycevixen.livejournal.com]

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Baby, it's cold outside. Hugging for warmth, that Canadian shack of legend, cozy drinks in front of the fire, hypothermia... run with it.

Just make sure you put on a hat, a scarf and some mittens first.

Some simple rules:
+No more than five prompts in a row.
+No more than three prompts in the same fandom.
+If one of your prompts is filled, feel free to prompt again.
+If your fill contains spoilers please warn and leave plenty of space.

We are now using AO3 to bookmark filled prompts. If you fill a prompt and post it to AO3 please add it to the Bite Sized Bits of Fic from 2015 collection (see further notes on this new option here)

Format for prompts:
Fandom, Character(+/Character), Prompt

Examples:
Sleepy Hollow, Ichabod Crane/+any, he never thought he'd miss the cold
Person of Interest, Harold Finch/John Reese, the power goes out
The Professionals, Bodie/Doyle, snowed in


Not really your thing? Why not try to fill one of the lonely prompts and brighten someone's day. For more recent prompts to write, you can also use LJ's advanced search options to limit keyword results to only comments in this community.

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Comments

[doreyg.livejournal.com]

Batman: TAS, Harley Quinn +/ any, building snowmen

Fill

[killing-kurare.livejournal.com]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32130655

♧

[doreyg.livejournal.com]

Batman: TAS, Alfred + Any, hot chocolate

[doreyg.livejournal.com]

Gotham (TV), Jim Gordon/Oswald Cobblepot, cold skin

[doreyg.livejournal.com]

Batman: TAS, Batman +/ Any, he hates how icy Gotham gets in the winter

[doreyg.livejournal.com]

Avatar: the Last Airbender, Zuko/Sokka, the difference between Fire Nation winters and South Pole winters

[draycevixen.livejournal.com]

Sleepy Hollow, Ichabod Crane/+any, he never thought he'd miss the cold

[draycevixen.livejournal.com]

Person of Interest, Harold Finch/John Reese, the power goes out

[draycevixen.livejournal.com]

The Professionals, Bodie/Doyle, snowed in

[bk_forever]

Any, any, freezing rain.

Lights (Torchwood: Owen/Tosh: G)

[wavingkilts.livejournal.com]

“I am so sorry Tosh.” Owen said, as he tried to shelter them both from the rain, as they made their way to Owen's flat from the restaurant. Owen's car tyre burst, his spare tyre miraculously disappearing into thin air. Tosh smiled, the ice cold rain splashing on her face, Owen's coat sheltering very little of both of them.

“Don't worry Owen, tonight was lovely.”

Owen, smiled slightly. They'd finally gotten a first date, although it wasn't a pool tournament at a pub. He'd wanted to do something special for Tosh, to show her how much she meant to him. Yes he was obnoxious, annoying, grouchy, sarcastic and rude but still, she was brilliant and to be honest he had never failed to realise, he'd just closed away his heart.

They rounded the corner, now soaked to the bone, hair dripping with rain water and eyes stinging. They stopped under the light of the street light, standing in a bus shelter. Tosh shuddered, wrapping her sopping wet coat tighter around her, her eyes blinking furiously to rid them of the stinging rain water.

“I was half expecting to bugger it up... I guess I was wrong.” Owen said, a smile pulling at his lips again as Tosh breathed out a laugh, a faint cloud of white coming from her lips from the cold.

She reached a hand up to Owen's cheek, pressing a quick almost no existent kiss on his lips. Owen stood for a moment, before looking her dead in the eyes as she slowly removed her hand from his cheek.

“Even if it did go wrong, I'd be just as happy.”

Owen moved slightly closer, wrapping his arms around her, his heart trying to break through his barrier. “Yeah?” He whispered lifting one hand to brush away her soaked, slightly tangled hair. She blushed, blaming it on the chilling around and the freezing rain.

“I'd be with you either way.”

They shared a kiss, the rain hammering hard against the roof of the plastic bus stop shelter.

Sometimes even the dates that don't end quite to plan... End better when unpredictable.

[devaccumulation.livejournal.com]

Rivers of London, Peter Grant/Thomas Nightingale, Nightingale doesn't deal well with the cold ever since Ettersberg

[mahmfic.livejournal.com]

Cabin Pressure, ensemble, flying in an unexpected snowstorm

[mahmfic.livejournal.com]

Cabin Pressure, ensemble, grounded because of a blizzard and Arthur can't find a single Toberone

[tigriswolf]

author's choice, author's choice, they say she died one winter

[tigriswolf]

author's choice, author's choice, sand-dunes in winter

Fill - Part 1

[peppermint-wow.livejournal.com]

Star Trek AOS - Kirk/McCoy [PG-13]


---

The beach was deserted when they arrived. The waves hissed as they lapped against the shoreline, foam clinging to the sand and following reluctantly as the water pulled back out to sea. Seagulls stood on the sand here and there, clustered together, one leg tucked up against their bodies while the other stood rigid, carefully keeping their feathers an inch or two above the fine grains.

The wind whipped past them and Leonard grumbled, tugged his coat closer to his chest. They were both wearing their jackets, hoods pulled over their heads, gloves on their hands. Leonard's form was bulky from the multitude of layers he'd covered himself in, but Jim had kept it simple, chose a sleek coat and a single pair of jeans for this trip. He liked the bite of the cold air on his skin, liked the taste of it on his lips. He could taste the salt too, the heady, briny scent of low tide.

Grinning, he snagged Leonard's hand and pulled him closer to the water's edge.

Snow had fallen the night before and the dunes were covered in it, a thin layer of powdered ice resting atop the sand, making the wind-blown hills slick and treacherous. Jim held tight to Leonard as they scaled the drifts, laughed aloud when the man lost his footing and stumbled against him, laughed again when they both went down in a flurry of limbs. They slid down the hill and came to a rest at the bottom, gulls scattering in their wake.

Jim lay splayed on his back and stared up at the sky. Leonard pushed himself to all fours next to him, groaned when he shifted to sit near Jim's shoulder. "Think I broke my ass," he muttered, patting the snow and sand from his knees.

Jim glanced at Leonard from the corner of his eye. "Looks good from here."

Leonard chuckled, gaze fixed on the slate grey water. "Doesn't feel good."

Jim rolled onto his side, hand reaching. "You sure about that?" he asked, gloved fingers digging into the sand beneath Leonard's butt, curling up to squeeze.

Leonard jerked, loosed a shout of protest and snatched Jim's wrist. Jim yanked, pulling Leonard across his body. Leonard fell with a startled oof, growled as he tried to wiggle away but Jim wrapped his arms around Leonard's shoulders, held him close, and eventually Leonard gave, dropping his head to rest on Jim's chest.

Jim ran his hands over Leonard's back, rubbing a bit of warmth into the man, and returned his eyes to the sky. The clouds were flat, ominous, ridges of white highlighting the darker, shadowy masses. It'd snow again before nightfall and Leonard would be pissed if they were caught out in it, but Jim liked it here, liked this wintery landscape, and figured he could get away with another few minutes here. Just a few.

(continued below)

[tigriswolf]

author's choice, author's choice, someone from the north US or Canada spends winter in the Gulf South

[tigriswolf]

author’s choice, author’s choice, she thought her own blood on the snow /was the prettiest thing she’d ever seen

Fill, Harriet Vane (Wimsey mysteries)

[schweinsty.livejournal.com]

It's funny, but the snow doesn't feel cold. It's warm, rather, goosefeather under her body, between her fingers, tangled in her hair. Flakes drift lazily down from the grey skies above, a few of them landing on her, the others falling without sound on the white ground everywhere around her.

Harriet sighs and follows the trajectory of a single flake as it spirals down. It lands some two or three feet away from her, she thinks, and she turns her head to try and spot where it landed.

That's when she sees it: a stream of red staining the snow downhill from where she's lying, sharp against the stark white. It's rather pretty, Harriet thinks. She tries to sit up to find where it originates, but discovers instead that she hasn't the strength. How odd.

The stream is a thin ribbon that curlicues away a foot or two and puddls in a crimson splotch. It gathers ruddy Pools/Then-eddies like a Rose-away, Harriet thinks, and smiles.

She rests her head back down and stares at it. Her mind seems to drift; she feels disconnected with her body, and her eyes drift shut of their own accord.

"M'lady!"

The yell makes her blink, and something aches, rather, in her shoulder.

"My lady! Over here, my lord!"

Something moves her arms and settles on her upper chest, bringing the throbbing pain in her shoulder to life. Harriet groans, coughs, and opens her eyes.

It's Bunter, of course, leaning over her, coatless and with his hat knocked askew. He's pressing down with what feels like all his weight on her shoulder for some reason, and it burns. Harriet groans again and tries to shift away, but he's got her pinned quite firmly.

"'S all right, m'lady," he says with a tight smile. "We'll have you out of here in no time."

"What-"

When she opened her eyes again, Peter's head bobbed above hers, the crown of his head just barely touching the brim of Bunter's hat.

"Darling," Peter murmurs when he sees her wake. "Darling, how do you feel?"

"Cold." Harriet manages to lift her head just far enough to look at Peter and Bunter's hands on her chest, where-oh, that's why Bunter's not wearing his coat; but she still feels cold despite it-they're pressing down on her shoulder, from which issues a steady stream of blood.

She looks back up, past Peter's frowning face to the grey clouds above, as Peter and Bunter finish up and move, Bunter down where she can't see him, by her feet, and Peter behind her.

"On three," she hears Peter say, with an answering 'Yes, m'lord,' from down below.

She turns back to the snow as they lift her, Bunter's warm wool coat hanging off her like a sheet off a corpse. The blood on the snow sparkles in the dim winter light, until, like the rest of the world, it slowly fades away into dark black spots that lull her into sleep.

[tigriswolf]

author's choice, author's choice, swallowing the stone of winter

[scribblemyname]

Marvel Cinematic Universe, Natasha Romanoff + any, Natasha knits [name] a hat, a scarf and some mittens; they don't dare say no thanks

not a fill

[quitehopeless.livejournal.com]

I just keep hearing "any" get asked what that thing on their head is. :)

[scribblemyname]

any, any/any, first time ice skating

Fill - Star Trek AOS [PG-13]

[peppermint-wow.livejournal.com]

Star Trek AOS - Kirk/McCoy [PG]


---

"Come on, Bones!" Jim shouted from the center of the rink.

"Actually," Leonard replied, hands gripping tight to the short barricade surrounding the ice. "I'm… I’m good here."

Jim huffed a sigh, smiling despite Leonard's less than enthusiastic attitude. "Come on," he chided, closing the distance between them. He glided effortlessly, zigged and zagged a little, just to show off. "This is not as hard as you think. And with powerful legs like yours," Jim said, taking a moment to admire said powerful legs, "skating should be a breeze."

"It's not my legs I'm worried about," Leonard grumbled, glaring at the ice as though it had done him some personal wrong. "It's my ass and how broken it's going to be when I fall."

"Everyone falls their first time," Jim said, drifting closer. "That's part of the fun." He reached out his hand.

"I think you and I have very different ideas of fun." Leonard stared at Jim's offered palm, his wiggling fingers, and scoffed. "Hell no. Right here is just fine, thanks."

Jim grinned and toed at the ice, coasting until their chests bumped. "Don't you trust me?"

"I don't trust me," Leonard said, eyebrows disappearing beneath his hairline.

Jim smoothed his hands over Leonard's shoulders, slid them down his arms, cool fingers curling around his wrists. "I won't let you fall."

"You just said everyone falls," Leonard protested, but didn't stop Jim from prying his fingers off the wall.

"Then we'll fall together," Jim whispered against his lips.

"You say that like it's supposed to make me feel better," Leonard mumbled, cold hands clutching tight to Jim's.

Jim laughed and slowly, carefully, pulled Leonard out into the ice.

---

End.

[scribblemyname]

Marvel Cinematic Universe, Clint Barton/Natasha Romanoff, he makes a very good personal radiator/blanket

[devaccumulation.livejournal.com]

New York’s winters are nothing in comparison to the one she has lived through. Russia’s nature was never known for its mercy, but it becomes lethal in winter. To an outsider it might look deceptively soft and romantic with its beautiful white painted landscapes and frozen rivers, but she has known experienced hunters who went out during the winter, desperate for food, and who never returned.
Someone had compared her to the Russian winter once – beautiful on the outside, but cold and without mercy underneath. She had slit his throat – he had been her mission target – and thought about how beautiful the otherwise so revolting red blood could look on snow.
The cold of New York has nothing on her, but in comparison to Siberia everything feels warm. She knows how to dress best for any weather, to find the perfect compromise between keeping warm and staying practical. And the Avengers Tower is always climatized.
So there isn’t really an excuse for how she is staying leaned against Clint. Clint, who despite dressing in a T-Shirt while it’s snowing, always seems to be warm and radiate heat, so unlike herself, who might be warm on the inside, but with her skin always cool to the touch. She doesn’t need the warmth.
Clint is snoring softly, having fallen asleep a few minutes ago to one of the American Idol re-runs. The TV is still flickering but now on mute, and they are the only ones in the living room. Slowly, Natasha rests her head on Clint’s shoulder, her cheek pressing against the T-Shirt, and even through the fabric she can feel his body heat. She breathes in, smelling sweat and stale pizza and Clint.
She doesn’t need the warmth. And even if she would, she could as well curl up next to the radiator or buy herself a thick blanket. But there is something different about soaking up the warmth from a technical device, and the warmth from another human being, from someone she trusts. It warms her in a way a radiator never could, deep down to her core, fills her and lets the fire inside her burn brighter.
Clint’s arm is loosely draped over her shoulders and she carefully snuggles closer, wrapping one arm around his chest, aligning her body with his and relishes the warmth.

[scribblemyname]

Queen's Thief, Attolia/Gen, she doesn't like him practicing on an icy roof

[scribblemyname]

any, any, bundled up so much you can't see who it is

Fill: Torchwood: Team, Jack & Ianto - ‘Well Wrapped Up’ - PG

[bk_forever]

Cardiff was caught in a blizzard, snow was drifting several feet deep and the roads were impassable, but Torchwood still had a job to do. A Weevil had been sighted and needed dealing with; the team had found it logged on the computer when they finally managed to get to the Hub on foot. Jack and Ianto had apparently gone out after it.

When the cog door opened amid blaring alarms, Owen, Gwen and Tosh just stared in astonishment at the peculiar apparitions that entered.

“Ha!” snorted Owen. “It’s Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee!”

“Shut it, Owen!” one of the bundled figures replied in a muffled voice. He couldn’t tell which one had spoken; they looked identical. “It’s like the bloody Arctic out there!” That could have been the other one or same one again, there was no way to be sure; even their voices were indistinguishable, muffled as they were.

Both were wearing jeans, thickly insulated coats, heavy boots, woollen hats with the coat hoods pulled up over them, padded gloves, and long scarves wrapped about a dozen times around their lower faces so that the only things visible were blue eyes peering through the tiny gap that remained. They were both also smothered in slowly melting snow.

“At least tell us you got the weevil.”

“Ah, well…” one started.

“Slight problem with that,” the other continued. They swivelled their entire bodies to look at each other briefly, then faced Owen again and seemed to wobble. It took him a moment to realise they were trying to shrug.

“We found it, but we had a bit of trouble running…”

“And then we fell over and rolled down the hill.”

“By the time we managed to get up again, it was gone.”

“You wouldn’t think it, but they’re surprisingly fast in snow. Now we need a shower.”

“Hopefully it might thaw us out.”

They waddled off in the direction of the locker room, briefly getting jammed together when they both tried to get through the door to the stairs at the same time.

Owen scratched his head and turned to the girls. “That was Jack and Ianto, right?”

“Had to be,” Tosh said firmly.

“I never realised how alike they are,” mused Gwen.

“Yeah,” Owen smirked. “They’re both complete prats!”


The End

[marlex.livejournal.com]

MCU, Steve/Darcy, ice skating at Rockefeller Center

[marlex.livejournal.com]

NCIS, Abby/McGee, snow angels

[marlex.livejournal.com]

Forever, Henry+/Joe, their car is trapped in a snow bank