free for all

[tigriswolf]

Here's the free for all.

As ever, the rules are:

*No more than five prompts in a row.
*No more than three prompts in the same fandom.
*No spoilers in prompts for a month after airing. Use a spoiler cut as needed.
*If you know the character's full name, use it. Also, give the fandom's complete name, too.
*If your fill contains spoilers, warn and leave plenty of space.

There's also a new rule now: if something in the fill could be a trigger, please have a note to warn for it.

Have fun!

Comments

[tigriswolf]

Highlander, Methos, "You should not have made this my problem."

Probably not what you were thinking...

[shanachie-quill.livejournal.com]

Methos stared at the sopping wet pile of fur on his kitchen counter. “What… is… that?” he questioned.

“I believe it’s a kitten,” MacLoed replied, eying his friend like he wasn’t sure if Methos was kidding or not.

“Okay. Why is it on my kitchen counter?”

“Well, I couldn’t leave it outside. It’s raining.”

“Mac, you are such a Boy Scout.” Methos scooped the kitten up, glaring at it when it hissed at him. "You should not have made this my problem."

“But you do so well taking care of things.”

“I think you’re confusing me with someone else,” Methos said over his shoulder as he carried it towards the bathroom. “Did you bother to check the sex? I’m not going to keep calling the kitten ‘it’.”

“No!”

Wrapping the kitten in a towel, Methos flipped it over, and called back, “She’ll need a name! And I’d still like to know why you brought her to me.”

“I thought you could use a friend.”

Methos stared at the Scottish Immortal who was now standing in the doorway to his bathroom. “So you brought me a half-drowned kitten?”

MacLeod shrugged. “At least she won’t be offended by your sarcasm.”

“Ha. Ha.”

[tigriswolf]

The Hunger Games, Rue, she's remembered as the spark

[sapphire2309]

She's remembered as the spark for a revolution.

She's remembered as the girl whose death inspired their hero, the girl who was shrouded in flowers and blood, the girl who was not one of the many innocents slain in the course of the game because her death had meaning.

But oh, she was so much more than that.

She was the braveheart who dared to steal food in spite of the immense risk, the shadow who never got caught, the kind soul who gave away her ill-gotten gains because Thyme hadn't eaten in two days and she looked like she was about to faint. She was the quiet child who demanded the least of her mother. She fluttered around on butterfly feet and wove grass bracelets for every one of her siblings and never broke a thing she couldn't fix.

But she's remembered as two pieces of flint that were struck at the perfect time.

[tigriswolf]

RPF, Louis Tomlinson vs Simon Cowell, they’ll know my name when they've forgotten all about you

[tigriswolf]

RPF, Harry Styles + Louis Tomlinson/any, “I’m not jealous. No, no, I’m not jealous. It’s just that when I see them together, I… don’t like it.”

FILL

[4bdnsn0wflake.livejournal.com]

“Disgusting.”

“Eh, it’s not the worst burger I’ve ever had. Definitely had better, though.” Liam said.

“I’m not talking about the food.” Harry frowned.

They were taking a lunch break on the set of their latest video. The crew had set up some picnic benches since it was an outside shoot. Craft was serving up some classic American choices today, which wasn’t always a good thing.

“I’m talking about her.” Harry stared at one of the farther tables, where Louis was eating with a petite brunette.

Liam looked puzzled. “Louis’s girlfriend?”

“More like his groupie.” Harry narrowed his eyes at the way the couple were smiling at each other.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Why does she have to constantly be hanging around everywhere we go?”

“This is the first time she’s ever visited. She lives in England.”

“She’s so grating,” Harry continued. “She has zero personality.”

“She’s hardly even spoken to you.”

“I know. Rude, right?”

The girl in question reached over and took a French fry off Louis’s plate.

“You see that? I hate when girls do that.” Harry put on a high voice, “’Oh, I’ll just have a salad.’ Then they eat all your food. Little pig.”

Louis said something and the girl laughed.

“Phony.” Harry was on a roll. “And does she have to be all over him every single second? Have a little self-respect.”

“Harry, they’re holding hands.” Liam had paused in his eating and was studying Harry’s hostile body language.

“And she’s so clingy. I don’t know how he can stand her.”

“Could you be any more jealous?” Liam laughed.

“I’m not jealous. No, no, I’m not jealous. It’s just that when I see them together, I… don’t like it.” Harry curled his lip at the way she was leaning in toward Louis, pretending to hang on his every word.

“It’s obvious.” Liam continued. “You’re jealous because Louis is in a committed relationship, and you’re still running around with your various conquests.”

Harry finally pulled his gaze away from the happy couple to glare at Liam. “That’s so stupid. I’m not even twenty. Why would I want to waste my life on some fat girl?”

“I say, you’re either jealous of Louis, or you’re attracted to his girlfriend and trying to talk yourself out of it.”

“That’s so insightful of you, Liam. If this band thing doesn’t work out, you’ve got a real future in psychology.” Harry mocked. “Only, you’re completely wrong. I can absolutely, beyond any shadow of doubt, swear that I am not attracted to her.”

“Okay.” Liam gathered up his trash and stood. “Then try to stop acting like such a bitch before Louis overhears you.”

Harry watched Liam walk away, then turned back to Louis and the girl. She stole a quick kiss from her boyfriend.

“Jesus Christ, get a room already!” Harry muttered, tossing a French fry in her general direction.

[tigriswolf]

Author’s choice, author’s choice, “May you get everything you deserve” is not a blessing.

Fill: SGA/Dollhouse; Foxtrot and the Sheppards

[nagi-schwarz.livejournal.com]

Kathy Sheppard's expression was frosty. Her daughters, Clara and Anna, clung to her, gazing wide-eyed at their father.

Dave Sheppard had been made for thousand-dollar Armani suits and gold Rolex watches, not government-issue orange jumpsuits and silver handcuffs. "Kathy –"

"May you get everything you deserve," Kathy hissed. Then she led her daughters into the courtroom.

The jury had deliberated for three days, which wasn't all that long compared to how long the trial had taken – six months. Given what Rossum had been doing for decades, distilling all its sins into six months was a miracle, and even then that was a drop in the bucket, because Rossum's international holdings were untouched while the international community scrambled to figure out how to respond.

Of course, the international community hadn't had Foxtrot John Sheppard as the poster child for the corruption of the Dollhouse program and Rossum; most former actives preferred their anonymity.

Kathy and her daughters sat in the back of the court room, Kathy stoic, her daughters nervous. They didn't really understand what was going on, but they knew their family was falling apart. The media was lapping up the fact that John Sheppard was sitting right behind the defense counsel table, wearing a civilian suit instead of his Class-A blues. When the jury foreperson read the verdict, guilty, John Sheppard didn't look smug or pleased. His expression was unreadable.

The marshals hauled Dave to his feet, but paused when John rose up.

"Dave, I'm still your brother," he said. "What's left of him."

Dave shook his head. "No. I don't deserve that."

"You didn't know," John said.

"Because I didn't care enough to look closely at what my father and I consigned to you, Joe."

"Not Joe, not completely, not anymore. I'm mostly John. I'm John in all the ways that count."

"You stopped talking to us after Afghanistan."

"I had things to figure out," John said. "I had to figure myself out. But we're still family."

Dave ducked his head, sucked in a deep breath. "I really am sorry. Look out for Kathy and the girls for me."

"I will."

The marshals grumbled, and Dave let himself be hauled away. John turned and cut through the crowd, headed for the door.

Kathy caught his wrist. "John. Joe. Foxtrot. I'm so sorry."

"John," he said gently. "Always John, for you and the girls."

"How can you stand to look at him?" Kathy bit her lip, glanced down at her daughters.

"It's hard to explain." John knelt down so he was eye-level with Clara. "Hey, I know things have been scary for the last little while, and a lot of things have changed for you, but I'm always your Uncle John, okay?"

Clara nodded. "Will you play a song for me? I'll sing with you."

Kathy's breath hitched with a smothered sob.

"Sure, kiddo. Let's go find a piano." John stood up, offered Clara his hand, and he walked out of the courthouse with the tattered remains of his brother's family. He knew Dave had done wrong, that Rossum had been evil, and Dave had more than deserved his prison sentence, but his family hadn't deserved losing him. Getting what you deserved wasn't a blessing.

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

any, any, the toughest woman is allowed to enjoy kitten pictures

Fill

[leni-ba.livejournal.com]

Buffy the Vampire Slayer (post-series)

Another day, another end of the world, another emergency meeting.

Buffy tried to look interested in what the younger Slayer was saying, but all she got through her jet-lagged mind was blah blah blah demon blah blah blah ritual blah blah blah wipe out humanity blah.

As if she hadn't heard it all before.

She fought off a yawn, and pressed her lips harder together when she caught Giles' stare across the conference room. Because apparently it didn't matter that a Slayer was close to her thirties and had more than a dozen averted Apocalypses under her belt, one look from her Watcher and she was back in the training room.

Sitting up straighter, Buffy tried to pay attention to the situation in some little town in the middle of Eastern Europe, but, again, she felt her mind go numb at the repeated warnings.

Yes, sure. The world was in danger.

When wasn't it?

"That one can go on, eh?" a voice at her side woke her up a little.

Buffy glanced over to find Faith sitting on the row behind her. The brunette was glancing at the Slayer in front with an annoyed look, shaking her head.

"We could have sent that thing back to hell in the time she's taken to 'explain the situation appropriately." She wrinkled her nose. "Council brats."

Buffy sighed, acknowledging the truth of it.

Most of the girls raised by the Council did have the tendency to come running back to headquarters every time they met anything stronger than their run-of-the-mill vampire. They expected to make their reports face-to-face and be handed down instructions; if it were up to them, there would be paperwork involved - in triplicate.

If Giles hadn't stood as a barrier between her and all that red tape, back in Sunnydale, she probably would still be waiting for permission to take down the Master.

Yes, the Council had been managed by idiots, and good riddance to it!

"I think she's winding down," she said, right before the girl in front whipped out a notepad and started listing all the actions she'd taken since she'd become aware of the threat.

This time she bit her lip to contain a groan.

Faith wasn't as subtle. "Kill me now," she grumbled, and then took out her cell phone from her jacket pocket. "YouTube, here I go."

Buffy wished she'd also chosen to sit in the back.

But since it was too late to slip into a less noticeable spot, at least she could make sure Faith didn't suffer along. She shifted in her seat, so as to hide the other Slayer from Giles' scrutiny.

Faith whispered a thank you.

"You owe me," Buffy answered.

"Got it." Faith chuckled. "The moment you wanna go teach this girl how to save the world without making such a fuss, I'm right behind you."

The two of them did make a good team, now that neither was trying to kill the other.

"Hey, B, you gotta see this," Faith said after a few minutes, tapping her shoulder with the phone.

By now even Giles' eyes were looking glazed, as the meeting had no end in sight.

In the front, the Slayer was weighing the possible outcomes. Amazing how 'evacuation' and 'contacting the military' was among the options, and not 'get my butt back where I came from, possibly with my buddies, and take care of it once and for all'.

Buffy would have stood in ovation if that possibility had come up.

Instead she leaned back and took the offered phone, expecting a daredevil stunt or a racy porn scene. She lifted her eyebrows when, instead, she found an orange tabby kitten playing with a roll of paper towel, shredding it into white fluff in happy disregard that its prey was almost twice as big as himself.

She raised an eyebrow, looking at Faith in surprise.

The brunette shrugged her shoulders. "You looked like you needed something to make you smile."

Buffy nodded in thanks.

Faith smirked. "And then I thought we'd teach this girl how to save the world."

Buffy smiled back, then hit replay.

The world would always need saving.

But as long as there were cute kitten videos, it was worth the hassle.

[ladyjane]

Star Trek (Original or Reboot), any, any, comfort food

[shanachie-quill.livejournal.com]

Somehow this turned into all, comfort food.

Five years on an exploratory mission was a long time to be away from home, even with all the excitement that came with being under Kirk’s command. So it really wasn’t a surprise that the crew of the Enterprise started craving a taste of home after not too long.

It was the responsibility of the cooks to know their crew and recognize when they were starting to feel homesick. To know when to slip the food that would make the crew feel the best into the rotation or even just make it available to the correct crew members.

And just like each crew member had their favorite food, each cook had his or her favorite crew member. So it was Izzy who learned the command crew’s names and what they liked at normal hours of the day. She learned what they liked at the end of long shifts and when they’d saved the day again.

She even learned what they liked when they were missing home.

When Spock lost everything he held dear (not that anyone would see emotion on him), Izzy made plomeek soup. She knew better than to serve it to him though, instead leaving it for Uhura to transport to him.

When McCoy had a long day in Sickbay, she was the one who spent the day on the computer and then worked out how to slow roast pork ribs. The look on the doctor’s face as he ripped into the ribs was worth all the hours she spent on them.

Kirk and Chekov were easier (and starchier). The captain, to Izzy’s surprise, wanted macaroni and cheese. Izzy hadn’t been able to discover his favorite without asking and the boyish grin when she asked made her glad she could easily make it. The young ensign was shyer about mentioning his favorite dish though but once she learned what it was, the Russian pierogi-like pelmenis quickly became favorites of not just the youngest member of the crew, but many others also.

The addition of the Scottish engineer meant Izzy started looking for a haggis recipe, but the first few times she slid it out onto the buffet tables, Scotty ignored it. She considered it for a little while before researching other foods. The next time he came into the mess hall yelling about how everyone was abusing his “babies”, Izzy had a crock of Sheppard’s pie to set before him. It stopped him in the middle of his tirade as he dug in and before long he was singing her praises; telling her he hadn’t tasted any better--except his mother’s.

Sulu was quiet and didn’t seem to want or need anything from home. Izzy waited for him to ask for a dish or to see to want something specific to remind him of what they left behind. But he seemed to be enjoying the adventure. Then one day he came into the mess hall even quieter than usual (Izzy didn’t think that was possible). She watched for a few minutes before placing a quiet call to Doctor McCoy and then looking for the directions for the dish she’d been saving. By the time McCoy arrived, she was setting the dish of udon in front of Sulu, hoping the soup would help him feel better.

Uhura often sat and worked in the mess hall. It meant she was a familiar face, not just to Izzy, but also to the other members of the kitchen crew. It wasn’t unusual for them to try to tempt her with tidbits and little extras.

Izzy though wanted to find that one dish that reminded Uhura of home. So she went back to the computer and the recipe books. It took her a while, but the day she set a platter of irio with roasted nyama choma meat in front of the communications officer and watched a slow smile spread across her face; Izzy knew she had found the dish.

This was why she had joined Starfleet. Not the adventures, but feeding the crew and reminding them of home.



You’ll have to scroll down to find Udon (http://en.rocketnews24.com/2015/03/10/10-distinctly-japanese-comfort-foods/)

Scroll a little to find Irio with roasted nyama choma meat (http://migrationology.com/2011/06/kenyan-food-overview-20-of-kenyas-best-dishes/)

[ladyjane]

NCIS, any, any, Tom and Jerry (cartoon)

[shanachie-quill.livejournal.com]

“So we’re on for tonight?” Tony asked as Abby handed the file to Gibbs.

The Goth forensic scientist nodded with a grin. “I’ll bring the popcorn. You have the DVDs?”

“I found everything we discussed,” Tony confirmed.

Bishop looked between the two of them. “Do I want to ask?”

Gibbs didn’t look up from the file he was reading. “Abby and Tony have a standing movie date twice a month. What’s tonight’s choice?”

“Tom and Jerry, Boss. Old school,” Tony answered promptly.

“You don’t want to join,” Tim told her. “Just trust me.”

Gibbs finally looked up. “And I’m pretty sure it has nothing to do with our case.”

“No. Boss. Not at all,” Tony agreed. He reached for the remote for the plasma. The team turned back to the case as Abby left the bullpen.

[sapphire2309]

any, any, as with all matters of the heart, you'll know when you find it

[sapphire2309]

any, any, setting fire to our insides for fun

Fill, Fullmetal Alchemist, "Drink Up"

[evil-little-dog.livejournal.com]

"Wh-whash thish?" Maes asked, holding up a red bottle that glowed venomously in the bar light.

"Sit say onna label?" Roy peered at the letters, trying to force them to focus rather than sway from side to side.

Maes adjusted his glasses and leaned closer until his nose pressed against the bottle's neck. "Cin...sin...'min." Squinting his eyes down to narrow slits, he read more. "Snaps."

The little warning bell which usually rang in the back of Roy's skull had been drowned out by all the other booze they'd tossed back this evening. "Sure," he said, shoving his shot glass toward Maes. "Pour."

Maes did, only sloshing a little onto the bar. He poured another shot for himself and they raised their glasses to each other before tossing back the booze.

Liquid fire ignited Roy's throat, making him feel like a dragon. His eyes watered. He swallowed hard to keep from spitting flames all over the bar top (Aunt Chris would skin him and wear his flesh like a cape if he set her bar on fire). Through an indeterminable time (forever), a conflagration burned in his gut, eating away all the other booze lodged there and rising back up the chimney of Roy's throat in a belch that rattled the glasses and shook the mirror behind the bar.

"What the hell was that?" Maes asked, his voice sounding scorched and wavery.

"Lava," Roy gasped against the burn. He grabbed for the bottle, catching it on the first try. "Le'sh have another."

[sapphire2309]

any, any, occupation: aspiring beam of light

[sapphire2309]

any, any, i find pieces of myself everywhere, and i cut myself handling them

Fill 1/2: SGA/Dollhouse, mostly John Sheppard

[nagi-schwarz.livejournal.com]

"What is this about, Colonel?" Woolsey asked. He, Keller, Rodney, Ronon, Teyla, Lorne, Ceccoli, and Zelenka were all gathered in John's room.

John wasn't sure what to do with himself. They were all crowded between him and the door. His knees were shaking and he wanted to sit down, but he couldn't cope with them looming over him. Lorne's expression was unreadable. Teyla looked concerned but ready to be supportive, whatever it was. Rodney looked ready to burst at the seams, the kid who knew the answer but who the teacher refused to call on. Zelenka looked like he needed to be somewhere else urgently but was here because Rodney had commanded it. And Woolsey looked cautious. Alert. But ready to be reasonable.

Ceccoli refused to meet his eyes.

Ronon looked bored. He reached out and picked up the knitting project on the desk, and inside John, Traci squeaked.

"Don't," John said automatically. "I don't have caps for those needles and if one of them comes out the entire thing will unravel and it's a very complicated pattern."

Keller and Woolsey raised their eyebrows.

Ronon set the knitting down with exaggerated care.

"I didn't know you knitted," Keller said.

I don't, John wanted to say, but Traci smiled and said, "Since I was sixteen. Broke my leg and was holed up for six weeks unable to walk or dance and my grandma taught me so I'd stay busy."

Rodney's desperately supportive expression faltered, and John hissed, No. Let me handle this.

You're not handling this, the college student pointed out.

The CIA agent chimed in. You're in the beginning stages of a panic attack.

Take a deep breath, the English teacher instructed, and John had no choice but to obey.

"Is this about your hobbies? Because I have a very sensitive experiment –" Zelenka began.

The translator burst out in Czech, "You're swearing isn't nearly as creative as it could be because you think no one else understands you."

Zelenka froze.

Teyla said, "You could not do that before, could you?"

"Have you been able to understand me this whole time?" Zelenka asked.

John nodded. He was dizzy. His stomach was churning. He couldn't do this, shouldn't do this. But he had no choice. Rodney and Lorne knew. He had to convince them he wasn't a liability, that he wasn't crazy, that they had to let him stay.

Zelenka was turning red. "Why did you tell no one?"

Teyla must have sensed John's distress, because she broke in, using her soothing negotiator voice. "Perhaps he was just being polite."

"If I'd known you spoke Czech, I'd have asked for your help translating forever ago," Rodney said.

Keller stepped forward, brow furrowed with concern. "John, are you all right? You look ready to faint."

He did feel ready to faint. The imprints panicked. Some tried to rally around him, to bolster him and make him feel better, but their collective chatter was making his head hurt. The others squabbled, trying to decide who should take over and handle this conversation.

Everywhere John looked, pieces of him were scattered. Ronon was reaching for the knitting again. Woolsey was peering at a law book the law clerk had checked out of the base archive on his last designated Sunday. Teyla had noticed the architect's open sketchbook. So may pieces of John scattered, shattered, and every attempt to collect them and arrange them into a coherent whole made him bleed even more. The architect was craving coffee. The pianist wanted him to close his eyes and shut out one sense completely. The college student thought getting blind drunk was an excellent plan. John couldn't breathe.

There were too many of them and only one of him and only the illusion that John Sheppard was real had kept this all at bay.

You can do this, Joe said. You can. You have to.

John's knees buckled, and he sat down hard on the edge of the bed. Keller cried out, dashed toward him, and then Keller and Teyla and Ronon were all bundling him out of his quarters and down to the infirmary.

"Keller," John said, "clear out all non-essential personnel. Please."

[sapphire2309]

any, any, i may think of you softly from time to time. but i'll cut my hand off before i ever reach for you again.

FILL: OC. Thinking of you

[dresmeinscarlet.livejournal.com]

Sometimes. When it's late at night and I can't sleep. Maybe three, or four in the morning. That's when it happens. When the hard edges start to blur. And I can shake my head and half laugh, remembering the time you left post it notes all over the house telling me I had a cute arse.

And once when I was on a train. With the world rushing by at a hundred miles an hour. I looked at the empty space opposite and imagined it was filled with you. And we were going to the coast. Do you remember that day? It pissed it down and we ended up spending all our money in the arcade. Good times.

Certain smells have unexpectedly proven to be the biggest trigger though. That godawful aftershave your aunty got you for Christmas? Jees I hated when you wore it. Yet, it still pulls a smile from my lips whenever I walk past someone wearing it now.

So, you're right. I may think of you softly from time to time.

But I'll cut my hand off before I ever reach for you again.

[dreammaidenn.livejournal.com]

Orphan Black, Helena (+ Any), all is full of candy and sweetness.

[dreammaidenn.livejournal.com]

MCU, Darcy Lewis/Sif, light up the night sky.

[dreammaidenn.livejournal.com]

Penny Dreadful, Mina Harker/Vanessa Ives, a bond we can't break.

[dreammaidenn.livejournal.com]

Marvel, Peter Parker/Wade Wilson, nights like this are for lovers.

[dreammaidenn.livejournal.com]

Any, Any, The moon lives in the lining of your skin.

FILL: Sam/Dean, fluff, cuddling, sharing clothes

[cozy-coffee.livejournal.com]

Sam is an autumn boy. He loves the swirl and twirl of the beautiful leaves tumbling to the ground in shades of gold, red and amber, and the brisk chill in the air that he chases away with a delicious pumpkin spice latte. His fashion choice is coziest; a pair of sweats and an oversized Hoodie. The afternoon is a joy of fun with apple picking—which he turns into an apple pie treat for his brother later in the night—and corn mazes, and Friday night football. Without a doubt, autumn is Sam’s favorite season.

Dean is a winter boy. The snowball fights with his brother brings out the little boy in him, he giggles and giggles until his rosy-pink cheeks are sore from the bubbly laugher, and nothing is blissful as snuggling with Sam beside a warm fire while sipping a yummy cup of hot chocolate with fluffy white marshmallows.

His fashion choice is coziest, a pair of sweats and one of San’s Hoodie, which earns him butterfly kisses from Sam because his brother has a not so secret love of him wear his clothes. The afternoon is a joy of fun with sledding and building snowmen dressed in kitten mittens and a fluffy scarf, and nights of caroling merrily while they take a lovely sleigh ride through the town is the perfect way to end the day. Without a doubt, winter is Dean’s favorite season.

No matter what season reigns over the town the best joy in the world is waking up next to the person they love. Their bodies are warm and snuggled together under the blankets and the bed is fluffy soft and cozy. Sam still slumbers, but Dean is awake and watching him sleep peacefully. With a fond smile, he brushes the curly hair out of Sam’s face before placing a kiss to his rosy cheek.

Even in sleep Sam nuzzles closer and burrows into Dean’s warmth as he dreams sweet dreams. Dean tucks him into his side and kisses his forehead, not wishing to be anywhere else in the world than in this bed with his beloved brother by his side.

♥ END ♥

[leni-ba.livejournal.com]

Buffyverse (BtVS and/or AtS). any. Pyrrhic victory

1 sentence

[tigriswolf]

"We won," someone whispers in shock, and Buffy's still trembling as she drops to her knees, staring at where Dawnie had been before that flash of green light - and she thinks, Did we?

[leni-ba.livejournal.com]

any Whedonverse. any male character. little pleasures

Fill: Dollhouse/SGA; Victor (Anthony Ceccoli)

[nagi-schwarz.livejournal.com]

Anthony would never admit it, but he liked letting Kiki out to dance with Traci. He could turn off his own mind and forget. He'd thought the Dollhouse was the most terrifying threat to human-kind, and then he learned about the Wraith and the Replicators, and sometimes it was all too much.

The archivist had a stash of musical instruments expedition members could borrow in their spare time, and sometimes Anthony would check out the old violin. It wasn't a particularly nice instrument, something more fitting a middle school orchestra player than Tom Voran, imprint of an NSA agent who could have gone to Julliard but had gone into government service instead, because all Vorans served their country. He found an empty room on a distant pier and serenaded the walls, and he felt a little better. Occasionally, in a fit of nostalgia, he'd play songs he knew Priya liked, record them and send them back to her at the SGC in the weekly databurst.

Lieutenant Cadman was a brilliant fencer, having made it to Olympic qualifiers in her college years, and Anthony would fire up his Roger imprint once a week so they could spar. In the back of his mind, Roger missed Adelle, but Victor refused to miss her, the woman who'd thought she was protecting him but was instead pimping him out. The burn of adrenaline scoured away his bitterness against her. In the end she'd done the right thing, and it had been just enough for him and some of the other actives to escape.

What Anthony liked to do for himself, though, was run. He'd run and run and run, sometimes borrow a jumper to head to the mainland and race along pristine beaches and clear blue water. When he'd been stationed in Afghanistan, his morning runs had been the only thing that kept him sane, the repetitive motion and exertion soothing, like meditation. Even when he'd been in the doll state as Victor he'd enjoyed running, was always pleased when his handler suggested he take a turn on the treadmill.

What Anthony needed to do, though, was finish making the imprint chair so he could take it home and fix what Rossum had broken.

[leni-ba.livejournal.com]

any animation (anime/Cartoon/movie). any/any (or any&any). "I looked for you."

Fill, Steven Universe - Trust Yourself

[dreammaidenn.livejournal.com]

Steven's blissful laugh as he chases after Lion overfills the room. Painting it with joy. Fluffy white and pink clouds that look like cotton candy blink above him. The floor is a dazzling neon.

He isn't sure where Lion is leading him, and with each step they take they seem to be going further in. Steven is seeing things new for his eyes. His mother's clothes, her weapons, her memories surround him. His chest feels tight at the sight.

Lion finally stops and drops down in the floor, closing his eyes. Laughing Steve cuddles up to him, and he's about to fall asleep too, when a voice calls to him.

He blinks blearily, only to find his mother standing right in front of him. In the flesh. Not a photograph, not a statue, not someone else's memory.

"I've looked for you, Steven," his mother says, her voice mellow. "I wanted to tell you something important."

Steven's irises are wide. He walks over and stands close, but not too close. He doesn't believe his eyes yet.

"What!?"

He's confused, but a ball of excitement and something else he can't quite place begins bubbling up inside him.

Rose smiles, bending down in front of him. Wow, she's beautiful.

"This," Rose tells him, touching his gem with her pointer finger, making him giggle, "makes you special. And you are doing great. Trust yourself and your instincts, Steven. I believe in you."

Her words warm him and take away his worries.

"I'll be the best Crystal Gem ever!" He decides.

Steven wakes up with a huge smile on his face the next day, eyes shining bright.

[leni-ba.livejournal.com]

any book. any. patience

Fill, Christy, Christy Huddleston, Ruby Mae Morrison

[entireoranges.livejournal.com]

Found here on my tumblr account: God’s Guidance (http://entireoranges.tumblr.com/post/154922487592/gods-guidance)

[leni-ba.livejournal.com]

any. any/any. "We can be lovers tonight, or friends forever."

Fill: SGA/Dollhouse

[nagi-schwarz.livejournal.com]

Friends and Lovers. (http://ficsco-and-nagi.livejournal.com/26157.html) Evan Lorne is in love with one of John Sheppard's imprints. John makes Evan an offer.

[ladyjane]

Angel(TV), any, any, Fix-It-Fic: It was all a dream. http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/AllJustADream

[ladyjane]

Crossover: The West Wing/Supernatural, Leo McGarry(he lived), any, Leo is one of the Men of Letters

Fill: Sam, Dean, Leo, AU from SPN Season 3 on

[nagi-schwarz.livejournal.com]

"Shall we do it?" Sam held up the box their grandfather had given his life to protect.

Dean nodded, opened the box and lifted out the key. "Let's do it." He reached out and unlocked the door.

At first the hallway was pretty nondescript, the kind of cement corridor that led to a cement bunker that was the stuff of cold-war paranoia. But then the corridor opened onto a balcony that overlooked a circular atrium, and it was like they'd stepped back in time. The wrought-iron banister, the geometric tiled floor, the heavy wood furniture and green Tiffany desk lamps. It was beautiful. It was the nicest place they'd ever contemplated staying in.

Dean started for the stairs, and then a man said,

"Well, I'll be. If it isn't Sam Winchester. I wondered about you, you know, after you left us. You went from being Deputy White House Communications Director to criminal to presumed dead, and your crimes...well. Grave desecration, that's a common hunter tactic, isn't it? And yet here you are, with the key to the Men of Letters. Winchester isn't too uncommon a name, but I always thought there was something of Henry in you, especially in your precise attention to detail."

Dean had his gun drawn and aimed on the old man who stood in the doorway below them. He'd come out of seemingly nowhere.

Sam had also drawn his gun, but he lowered it as soon as he saw who it was. Dean had no clue who the old codger was, but Sam obviously recognized him.

"I thought all the Men of Letters were dead," Sam said.

"So did I," the old man said wryly. "If you have the key, you must be legacies. I guess that's one mystery solved, though. What happened to the other key, and what happened to young Henry all those years ago."

"Who the hell are you?" Dean demanded.

"Dean, this is Leo McGarry. Leo was chief of staff when I worked for President Bartlett," Sam said. He holstered his gun and started forward, but Dean caught his shoulder.

"How do you know we can trust him?"

"I worked with him for a few years," Sam said. "He had his issues, but none of them were of the demon-summoning variety."

"That you know of," Leo said, and Dean trained his gun on the man once more. Of course, he was a full-fledged Man of Letters. Was a gun even effective against him?

"Come on down, boys," Leo said. "Let's talk about what it really means, to be a Man of Letters."

Sam shook off Dean's hand and descended the stairs. Dean had no choice to follow. He was always unsettled whenever Sam's years without him reared their ugly heads. In those first twenty-four hours topside after Castiel dragged Dean out of hell, Dean remembered little. He remembered Castiel zapping them into a swanky office, and seeing Sam wearing slacks and a button-down shirt and tie and some girl calling him "Sir". He remembered Sam attacking him, holding a silver knife to his throat. He remembered other people whispering that they'd thought Sam's brother was dead. He remembered Sam walking away and talking to someone named Josh, turning in his official resignation on the spot, and Josh looking betrayed, puzzled, panicked. He remembered a pretty blonde woman, Donna, asking if they were like Sam and Dean, from the books, because Bobby was with them, and Bobby looked just like she'd always imagined. Dean had ignored her, gone to hustle Sam along, because they had work to do.

Sam's break was over. They had to hunt things, save people. The family business. Dean hadn't asked what Sam had done after he'd died, knowing that Sam had kept his promise not to make a deal to bring him back but still bitter after centuries of torture down in hell. But Dean couldn't avoid the oblique references Jo and Ellen made, about seeing Sam on TV, how they'd thought he was out of the life for good, how Jo would finish college but she'd come help them if they needed it (and Sam murmuring, no, finish college, we got this).

It wasn't until the FBI came roaring after them in the form of Leviathans that Dean really started to understand what the hell Sam had gotten up to while Dean was gone. He'd finished college, gone to law school, and ended up working for the President of the United States as some kind of fancy speech writer.