Bite Sized Bits of Fic

Gundam Wing - Any - battlefield debris

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Ghostbusters (2016) - Any - messy

From:

Saiyuki - Sanzo - disheveled

From:

moc-215.livejournal.com

Sanzo pushed himself up. Then he flopped back on his bottom and spat out the mouth full of sand, before he swallowed any more.

Next to him, Gojyo's head emerged out of the sand. They looked at each other and Gojyo started laughing.

Scowling, Sanzo stared at his travel-companion "What!" he demanded to know.

Between laughing, Gojyo managed to get out a few words. "You… look… ridiculous…"

Sanzo refused to say something, but his face darkened.

"Your robe is hanging half over your head, and one of your sandals is missing" came a more steady voice from behind.

Sanzo moved to look, when he caught himself in the folds of his robe. Gojyo was laughing harder again.

Behind him Hakkai chuckled quietly.

Goku was giggling like mad. "You looked so silly, when you went flying after Hakaryuu hit a rock and disappeared."

Sanzo resigned himself to being the source of amusement and started putting his robes back in order.

From:

This wonderful! Thank you!

From:

Any - any - nasty breakup

From:

1D - Niall +/Liam - Playing in the mud

From:

vanillafluffy.livejournal.com

Any, any, There's something living in the fridge today, I don't know what it is....

From:

vanillafluffy.livejournal.com

Kingsman: the Secret Service, Merlin + any, the world is different after Valentine's broadcast.

From:

any, any, getting lost in a crowded street.

From:

clearly-odd.livejournal.com

The thing was- the thing was, Q was actually not very good with chaos. Q did not like chaos. It was his job to manage and make sense of chaos- make it orderly. Q simply was not good at handling chaos.

What Q was good at was processing individual incidents and pieces of information so quickly that even the most confusing situations rarely felt really, truly out of control.

Lab accidents, cyberattacks, tanked missions, aggressive field agents, impatient higher-ups – Q handled all that. He relished in taking all of it and making it behave. It was his job.

He was good at it.

Just- the thing was, much as Q liked to deny it, he did have to switch off at some point. Power down and recharge. There came a point when Q’s mind could no longer process and filter every bit of input and order it accordingly, and that’s when life became a little harder.

Q liked to spend those times safely pent up in his flat if he could, surrounded by familiar things that he didn’t have to make sense of. Furry cats and impressionist art prints and music he knew note for note and worn paths around the furniture he could walk by rote. Everything familiar and soft around the edges and nothing to jar him until things were processing properly again. Except that he couldn’t always—not exactly—feel an oncoming break in sensory processing abilities.

(It never happened at work, no, no, that wouldn’t do, Q would never allow that, but when he wasn’t in Q branch, when he wasn’t responsible for lives and security and tech, when he was just at home, well, his guard was down.)

So occasionally- just occasionally, Q might be out and about when suddenly things stopped making quite as much sense. Which was… disconcerting. Words might fail to make it to his brain properly, or his eyes couldn’t quite make sense of what he was looking at, or he would forget which way he was supposed to be going or why he’d come out at all because everything was just loud and disorienting and chaotic and completely unmanageable.

Which left Q in the middle of a crowded street, standing in front of a rather befuddlingly bright display for… something, trying desperately to figure out which way was up. Or down. Or out. Out would be good. Off the street, out of the people who were all blurring together—confusing, very confusing—maybe into a vehicle, he could say his address without having to think about it, really, but wasn’t he forgetting something?

Someone.

Forgetting Bond. Silly, really, forgetting someone so- so like Bond. Q might have laughed if he weren’t trying to remember if Bond had said where he was going and if he’d be able to find the agent again or if he should just stay where he was like a damn lost child and this was fucking frustrating, Q did not like chaos and- “Q.”

The letter was murmured straight into his ear, quietly audible above the roar of people shoving past, and it made blessed sense.

The warm, callused palm wrapped around his wrist made sense. It was familiar. It was grounding. It was Bond.

“That’s enough for today, I think.” Bond continued speaking into Q’s ear, voice measured and low and making just enough sense that Q knew he could follow, “Let’s go home.”

Q nodded. Good, familiar, organized home, with good, familiar, spectacular Bond. Home, where Q could sit amongst familiar things until his brain recognized order again. Where Bond would sit with Q until Q’s brain recognized order again. And then maybe they would have dinner.

Q latched onto the thought and trusted that Bond would lead Q away from the confusion and chaos and would make sense of everything. Odd change of pace, Q mused, but he wrapped his hand in Bond’s and relished in the familiarity and decided not to care.

From:

Charmed, any, more than one demon in the same day.

From:

Doctor Who, Ten/Rose Tyler, "It's never that simple..."

From:

The Flash, Caitlin Snow/Joe West, Messy rooms

From:

helsinkibaby.livejournal.com

When Joe returns to STAR Labs, the medbay looks like a scene from a horror movie. Which, he knows, is entirely apt, considering what went down here a few short hours ago. The machines are all pushed out of their usual positions, one tilted at a very precarious angle, all of them with various wires dangling where they wouldn't usually be dangling. Medical instruments are scattered on various surfaces, some are on the floor, lying tangled with bits of bloody gauze and bandages.

It looks like someone's fought death here, but there's no clear way to ascertain the victor.

Or at least there wouldn't be, were it not for the single occupant of the messy room.

Caitlin stands at the empty bed with her back to the door, her hands balled up in fists and braced on the bed, tension holding her shoulders taut, save for the barely perceptible trembling that tells Joe she's crying.

He just about bites back a sigh - he hates to see her cry.

"Hey." He says the word still standing at the door, waiting to see her reaction. When she doesn't turn, just straightens up and lifts her hands to her face, he takes the hint, stays where he is too.

"Hey." Her voice is high, brittle. "You get everything done?"

He nods even though she can't see him. "My report is filed, Singh knows all the details I can't put down on paper. He told me to go home, he's not gonna look for me until morning." Not for the first time in his career, especially his recent career, he blesses the fact that his ex-partner is now his captain. "I thought you might want to get out of here." Because Barry had told him that she hadn't left, even though everyone else had tried to make her, and because they all knew that Caitlin, more than anyone, needed to get out of here.

"And leave all this?" She turns then, gestures around the room with a sweep of her arm. She's not being humorous either, he can tell at once. "I need to clean up..."

He shakes his head, takes a step towards her. "Sweetheart, it'll still be here tomorrow..."

"Exactly." No-one has looked at him with that degree of "Well duh" since Iris was a teenager. He suddenly finds himself wishing for the days of homework assignments and boy trouble: those at least he could somewhat handle. "I don't want them to walk in here tomorrow and see..." She stops talking, swallows hard, her pale cheeks flushing pink.

And just like that, he knows what she was going to say, or close to it. Something about how she'd failed, how she should have been able to do something, do anything, do more.

"Caitlin, there was nothing you could have done-"

She cuts him off and her next words prove his suspicions. "I could have done my job." She's scathing, vicious even, but he knows her anger's not directed at him. Rather, it's directed at herself; he just happens to be standing in front of her. "I should have been able to..." The words seem to choke her and she claps her hand over her lips as her eyes fill with tears.

There is no power in this world that would make him not take her into his arms when she looks like that, sounds like that, so that's exactly what he does. He pulls her close and she goes willingly, cries into his shoulder as he rocks her gently from side to side. "You did everything you could," he reminds her quietly when the worst of the storm has passed.

"I know." That's whispered into his shoulder. "I just hate that it wasn't enough."

He kisses the top of her head. "We all do."

She sucks in a deep breath before she straightens up, gives him a watery smile. "I still need to clean up this mess," she says and it's almost apologetic in tone, like she's expecting him to argue with her.

Instead, he nods once. "Where do we start?"

Caitlin blinks, surprise stamping itself all over her face. "You don't have to-"

"I know." Joe takes her hand, squeezes it gently. "But you do. And you don't have to do it alone."

Fresh tears shine in her eyes but her smile is the real thing. "Thank you," she whispers as she steps back into the circle of his arms and he holds her for as long as she needs before they start.

From:

RPF, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Too many fans in one place.

From:

ami-ven.livejournal.com

Any, any group, everyone is playing a strategic game and one person is just making all their moves at random

From:

Supernatural, benny /Dean winchester, to bite or not to bite

From:

One direction rpf, harry styles /zayn mailk, the house is never clean

From:

One direction rpf,girl zayn malik/Harry styles , the jealousy monster

From:

One direction rpf, niall horan/ Liam Payne , fighting who moves

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