Tuesday: Yellow

[raktajinos.livejournal.com]

Hello, everyone. I’m raktajinos and today's theme is Yellow. Prompts can be about the colour yellow, or about the emotions that come to mind (such as joy, sickness, comfort, etc), or you can refer it to weather, iconography, etc. This week we'll be embracing all the colours of the wind!


Just a few rules:
No more than five prompts in a row.
No more than three prompts in the same fandom.
Use the character's full names and fandom's full name for ease adding to the Lonely Prompts spreadsheet.
No spoilers in prompts for a month after airing, or use the spoiler cut option found here.
If your fill contains spoilers, warn and leave plenty of space, or use the spoiler cut.
If there are possible triggers in your story, please warn for them in the subject line!

Prompts should be formatted as follows: [Use the character's full names and fandom's full name]
Fandom, Character +/ Character, Prompt

Some examples to get the ball rolling...
+ Hart of Dixie, Lemon Breeland &/ any, coming through the other side
+ Star Trek TNG/DS9/VGR, any, changing departments, changing uniform colours
+ any, any, Your hands protect the flames...Icarus is flying too close to the sun

We use 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 2018 collection. See further notes on this new option here.

Not feeling any of today’s prompts? Check out Lonely Prompts Spreadsheet 1 (not very current), Lonely Prompts Spreadsheet 2, or the Calendar Archives, or for more recent prompts, you can use LJ's advanced search options to find prompts to request and/or fill.

While the Lonely Prompts Spreadsheets and LJ's advanced search options are available, bookmarking the links of prompts you like might work better for searching for in the future.

Comments

[jdl71.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Sam & Dean Winchester, Sam is a sickly yellow, sick from a spell gone wrong and Dean is there to get him through it.

[brumeier.livejournal.com]

Stargate Atlantis, Any,

Look at the stars
Look how they shine for you
And everything you do
Yeah they were all yellow
(Coldplay)

[brumeier.livejournal.com]

Any, any, yellow roses represent platonic love, joy, and delight

Fill: Forbidden Games/Weiss Kreuz

[nagi-schwarz.livejournal.com]

“Yellow roses represent platonic love, joy, and delight,” Ken recited in careful English. Even though he’d worked in the flower shop in London for three years, he still wasn’t all that comfortable with his English, but he did his best.

The girl standing at the counter, looking to buy some roses for her anniversary, looked doubtful. She had pretty blonde hair and green eyes and reminded Ken of Youji, Youji who would never be reminded of him or anyone else on the team, Youji who’d lost his memory, lost his former life, and was living happy now.

Ken added, “Yellow roses will look pretty with your hair.”

The boy standing behind the girl reminded Ken too much of Farfarello, with his frost-white hair. He was slender and lean, strong despite how willowy he looked, and something about him made the hair on Ken’s arms stand up. He didn’t have Farfarello’s feral golden eyes though. Instead he had blue, blue eyes like Nagi’s, wide and dark-lashed and just as pretty, just as dangerous.

He leaned in and said in the girl’s ear, “Yellow roses mean infidelity.”

She yelped and started, spun around. When she saw him, she pouted and swatted him on the chest. “Julian! Not funny. Don’t say things like that.”

He laughed softly, his entire face lighting up with a smile, and suddenly he didn’t look dangerous, just looked like a loving boyfriend. “Sorry. Couldn’t help it. But he’s right - they’d look good with your hair.”

“But if I’m buying the roses for you, should I get white ones?” the girl asked.

The boy wrapped his arms around her waist, pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Whatever you want.”

Ken said, “Perhaps a compromise? Very pale yellow roses, or a mix of yellow and white roses, for the two of you together.”

The girl smiled. “I like that. A dozen, please.”

Ken inclined his head politely. “Coming right up.”

[brumeier.livejournal.com]

Hawaii Five-0, Grace Williams, yellow sundress

[brumeier.livejournal.com]

Trixie Belden Mysteries/The Three Investigators, Trixie Belden +/ Jupiter Jones + Mart Belden/Skinner Norris, lemonade

Fill -- The Matter With Lemons

[vanillafluffy.livejournal.com]

“When life gives you lemons, make lemonade?”

Trixie looks up from the kitchen island where she’s working. Ingredients are set out in front of her and she’s mixing something up in a big bowl. There are also several one-gallon jugs in a row.

Jupiter stands in the doorway to her bedroom, having entered dome through the backdoor. He looks amused.

“Mart and Ben are out making produce deliveries,” she explains. “I thought I’d have some refreshments ready when they got back.”

“So you made three gallons of lemonade?”

Her nose crinkles endearingly. “I’m so used to picking tons of fruit for marmalade that I grabbed a whole bushel out of habit. So there’s three different kinds--rosemary, mint and plain.”

“Why not put it in the fridge to chill?” Jupe suggests.

This earns him a jaundiced look. “Because there’s no room in the fridge. Leftovers aside, there’s a monster plate of sandwiches and a cake cooling so I can frost it.”

“Sandwiches, cake and what’s that you’re making?”

“Pasta salad with tuna fish.”

“I’ve never understood that,” Jupe remarks. At her raised eyebrows, he continues. “Tuna fish. I could see differentiating between types of eggs, for example--chicken eggs, duck eggs and so on--but who’s going to say, ‘I had bacon pig with my chicken eggs for breakfast.’?”

Trixie sighs and dumps chopped celery into the bowl. He saunters over to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Don’t you think you’re going a little overboard, sweetheart?”

”You don’t know Mart. He’s like one of those birds that can eat three times its own weight every day. I’m hoping if I have enough food ready when they get back, I won’t have to cook tonight.”

“I’ll take you out to dinner,” he promises. “How’s that?” She tips her head back to look up at him, and he kisses her forehead, just below her hairline.

“Chinese?” she asks hopefully. “Rickshaw?”

“As you wish.” The food is good and it’s budget-friendly. Jupe considers himself a very lucky man--not only is his girlfriend smart and cute, she’s remarkably low-maintanence! He knows guys whose ladies get downright ugly when they’re denied lavish dinners, trips to exotic destinations, bling. Trixie loves watching the sun set into the Pacific, collecting shells and driftwood, and the priciest thing she’s ever asked him for is…he can’t think of anything. “What can I can help you with?”

“Sit over there and don’t distract me, or I’m liable to end up adding the powdered sugar to the pasta salad.”

“And frosting the cake with it?” He grins.

“Well,” Trixie pretends to consider it. “It’s a lemon cake, and lemon goes pretty good with tuna--” She bites back the habitual ‘fish’. “But I’d rather not.” She finishes the concoction and swaps it for the cake in the fridge.

Watching her whip up a batch of buttercream frosting gives Jupe curious feelings…there is nothing inherently erotic about combining confectioner’s sugar, butter and flavorings. Still, the look of concentration on her face reminds him of other occasions she’s focused a particular goal….

“What are those bits in the sugar?” he asks to distract himself.

“Lemon zest--I put it in there ahead of time to--” She pauses, looking for the word. “infuse the flavor into the sugar.”

It’s like watching a cooking show as she assembles the cake…albeit a cooking show where he’s seen the cook naked and is sorely tempted to ravish her and what she’s preparing. Jupiter licks his lips.

“What are you thinking right now?” she asks, distributing frosting onto the sides of the cake, spinning the turntable with one hand as she wields the spreader with the other..

“How much I’d like to cover you in icing and lick it off.”

Trixie stops. “And here I thought you were lusting after the cake.” He shakes his head, and she grins. Bowl in one hand, spatula in the other, she skips over to the bedroom door. “What are you waiting for?” she croons. “I’m gonna give you some sugar!”

Jupe give a last glance to the raggedly finished product of her labors. “Want to bring that? They’re liable to decimate it; you won’t get any after all your hard work.”

“No big deal--life gave me lemon trees--I can always make more.”

…

[brumeier.livejournal.com]

Any, Any m/m,

Man, it's a hot one
Like seven inches from the midday sun
(Santana feat. Rob Thomas)

Muy Calient/Original Fiction/781 words 1/2

[asphaltcowgrrl.livejournal.com]

I live in the desert and think of this song often. Like every day from May through September.
--
“God damn, it’s hot,” Zayne whined. He wiped his face with the back of hand. The bandana he’d wrapped around his forehead was soaked to capacity. He wasn’t sure if he even wanted to know what state his hat was in.

“Did you forget you lived in the desert, cowboy?” James looked up from where he was weeding the garden and grinned.

Zayne walked up behind the redhead, took off his hat, and shook his sweaty hair.

“Oh god, gross,” James yelled, leaping to his feet. He swiped a hand across his face, uselessly.

“Hah,” Zayne smirked. “That’s what you get for being a jerk. And you probably shouldn’t bother. No way of telling what was my sweat and what was already yours.”

“Truth,” James admitted. He opened his mouth to say something more and stopped. Zayne’s skin was naturally tan, a gorgeous caramel color due to his father’s Hispanic lineage but spending the last few days in the yard had deepened his natural color to an enticing golden brown. His thick, dark hair stood out in a wild, sweaty mess. Bright green eyes, the only thing he’d inherited from his mother’s side of the family, were luminescent in the desert sunshine.

“You okay, narco?” Zayne put the edge trimmer down and studied his boyfriend. “It’s kinda weird, you’re both sunburned and pale at the same time.” He motioned to his cheeks. “You’re all read here but the rest of your face is the same freckly white as usual. Do you need some water?”

“No,” James said, snapping out of his reverie. “I’m fine.”

But he really wasn’t. Zayne’s t-shirt was soaked with sweat, clinging to every muscular curve of the cowboy’s chest. When he used the hem to wipe his face, Zayne exposed a long stretch of washboard abs. It was enough to make your mouth water.

“Right,” Zayne said, shrugging. “If you say so.”

“I do,” James said, turning back to the weeds growing in the tomatoes. “What the hell does Andy feed these basil plants? They’re like two feet tall.”

[nagi-schwarz.livejournal.com]

Any Sherlock Holmes fandom, Fem!lock AU, The girl in the yellow dress (David Gilmour - https://youtu.be/7PwQrEbEnrM)

Fill (my Femlock 'verse) 1/2

[sherlockian-syn.livejournal.com]

Jane sat at the bar, politely sipping at the bourbon on the rocks she’d gotten for free thanks to the leering man at the opposite end. She looked down into her glass, watched the ice clink about as she moved it around ever so slightly, then looked back up. He was still staring at her.

She had dressed to kill that evening in her favorite yellow dress, but she wasn’t really on the hunt for anything or anyone special. A night out sounded lovely after spending the last month cooped up in 221B, healing up after the gunshot she’d taken to the stomach. Without thinking, her hand drifted to the scar...to her badge of honor for loving someone too much.

“‘Ello, love. Enjoying that bourbon?”

Jane blinked and realized the man who’d bought her the drink was now sitting right next to her.

“Y-yes. Thank you very much.” She nodded, smiled politely, trying to seem nice without being too friendly.

“You come around here often? Don’t see many birds in jazz bars anymore.”

“Not too often, no.” She took another sip of bourbon, tried not to visibly shudder at the taste.

“Care to dance?” His eyes traveled up and down Jane’s body and Jane swallowed down the bile that had suddenly risen from her stomach.

Maybe one dance wouldn’t hurt.

“Well -”

“Oh there you are, love! Sorry it took me so long, work held me over again.”

Shirley Holmes stood on the other side of her, her hand on Jane’s arm. She was wearing a maroon dress and her dark curls were tucked up into a cloche hat made of brown velvet. Her lips were dark red, and she was leaning down to kiss Jane on the cheek.

“Who’s this then?” The smirk on the invading man’s face was quickly replaced with a twisted frown.

“Shirl. Partner in crime, as it were. Isn’t that right, dear?”

Jane smiled slowly before turning back toward the stranger, her eyes now alight with fire. “Of course, my sweet.”

The man mumbled under his breath and shook his head.

“What was that?” Shirley asked, her voice growing louder.

He got up and left, saying nothing more.

“Good evening, sir!” Shirley called after him, a giddy grin on her face.

Jane laughed and let her jaw hang open. “How did you know I was here?”

“Oh, you know. A little bird told me.”

“Does this bird happen to be a police officer?”

“Gretchen really doesn’t hold up under questioning, you know. She gave up your location with very little pressure.”

They said nothing for a while, listening to the live band as they started up a new number. The music spread through the room, slow and sensuous.

Shirley nudged Jane with her elbow. “Come on, then.”

“What?” Jane asked, watching closely as Shirley stood up and moved around to Jane’s other side before offering her a hand.

“If we don’t want any other vile creatures bothering us, we will need to play our parts to the fullest extent.”

Jane searched Shirley’s eyes, but like usual, they revealed nothing.

But why not play the part, if Shirley was willing?

“I’m not going out there unless you ask me properly.” Jane sipped at her watered-down bourbon, trying to fake nonchalance when in reality her heart was about to pound its way out of her chest.

Shirley took another step closer.

“Will you dance with me, Jane?” she whispered.

Jane took Shirley’s hand and stood up. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Not at all, my dear Watson.”

They wandered out to the dance floor, hand in hand. They faced one another, both hesitating for a few seconds as the song played on. Finally, Shirley gently placed her hands on Jane’s hips and pulled her closer. Jane did what felt natural, which was to rest her arms on Shirley’s shoulders and her hands on the back of Shirley’s neck. They began to sway to the rhythm.

She mesmerizes with a smile
Dark eyes as compelling as the bourbon
That girl in the canary yellow dress
Says yes

[nagi-schwarz.livejournal.com]

Stargate Atlantis, Evan Lorne +/ any, Big Yellow Taxi (Joni Mitchell - https://youtu.be/94bdMSCdw20)

Fill: Evan Lorne/Ronon Dex

[brumeier.livejournal.com]

Evan got out of the taxi and just stood there for a long moment, his whole being filled with despair. He’d known, of course. His mother had told him. But it was different being there and seeing it through his own eyes.

The commune was gone.

“You grew up here?” Ronon asked.

“It didn’t look like this back then,” Evan said.

An offer had been made on the land while Evan was in another galaxy, and the commune had fractured, half the people for the sale and half against it. His mother and sister had fought the sale, but in the end the money was too good and neither of their names were on the deed.

It was all outlet stores now, brand name establishments offering clothes and shoes and beauty products at a hefty discount. Parking lots and sidewalks as far as the eye could see, with spindly trees planted here and there for visual appeal.

“This used to be all fields and grass, and old-growth trees,” Evan said. “We had a pond for fishing or swimming in, and the main house would’ve been right over there. We had community meals there, and school.”

Ronon wrapped his arms around Evan, resting his chin on the top of Evan’s head. It was hard for Evan to get his bearings with all the stores changing the landscape, but if he closed his eyes he could see it as plain as day.

“Our house was over there. Me and mom and Gram and Tallie. It was small – Tallie and I shared a room – but it was comfortable. Warm. Gram was always baking. And the walls were covered with my mom’s art. Watercolors and macramé and string art.” Mom had made room for Evan’s artwork, too, once he showed an interest in it.

“Sounds nice,” Ronon said.

“It was nice. There were gardens, because we grew all our own vegetables, and some fruit trees. All us kids had to pitch in, but we had plenty of time to just run around and be kids, too.”

Idyllic, looking back through the lens of time and nostalgia. It hadn’t all been good, of course. There’d been some townspeople who didn’t want ‘dirty hippies’ living so close. Others had decried the homeschooling as depriving the kids of the necessary tools they’d need to be productive citizens. Evan and Tallie had fought like any other siblings, though they’d always been quick to make up.

But time moved forward, and the commune had been paved over under the guise of progress. Evan wished he’d been there to join in the fight for the commune. Then again, he’d turned his back on it, too, chasing a connection to the father he never knew.

“It’s not gone,” Ronon said. “As long as you remember.”

Evan had said the same thing to Ronon about Sateda. One more thing they had in common.

“Thomas Wolfe said you can’t go home again. He was right.”

Ronon turned Evan and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “Home isn’t a place. It’s people.”

Evan grinned and pulled Ronon down for a more thorough kiss. He shook off his despair, at least for the moment, because Ronon was right. A house was just a house, a piece of land nothing more than that. It was the people who gave them life.

“Come on,” he said. “Mom’s waiting on us.”

“You think she’ll like me?” Ronon asked.

“She’ll see how much I love you, and she’ll love you too.”

They got back in the waiting taxi, and Evan gave the driver his mother’s new address. They pulled away from the shopping center and Evan didn’t spare another look at change that had befallen his childhood home.

All that mattered now was his future with the man sitting next to him.

[sherlockian-syn.livejournal.com]

Any, any, "You Are My Sunshine is actually a really depressing song when you listen to the whole thing."

Fill: SGA McShep

[nagi-schwarz.livejournal.com]

“That’s actually a really depressing song,” Rodney said.

He and John were sitting on the edge of the pier, a couple of beer bottles between them, gazing up at the New Lantea night sky. John was strumming his guitar and idly singing You Are My Sunshine.

“It’s got sunshine in it,” John said.

“But if you listen to the whole thing,” Rodney said.

John kept on playing. “I have listened to the whole thing.”

“And you don’t think it’s depressing?”

“Have you ever listened to a Johnny Cash song all the way through?” John raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not just a Johnny Cash song.”

“Yeah, but pretty much none of his songs are happy, let alone his cover songs. Not counting the country hymns.”

Rodney looked at John. “Why do you like Johnny Cash and his unhappy songs so much?”

“Easy to play on the guitar,” John said.

Rodney bumped John with his elbow. “Do you know any happy Johnny Cash songs?”

John switched chords and began to sing,

I’ll sweep out your chimney, yes
And I will bring your flowers, yes
And I will do for you
Most anything you want me to

A love song.

John kept singing, and Rodney kept listening.

If we’re ever parted
I will keep the tie that binds us -

“We won’t ever be parted,” Rodney said. “Except by death.”

John’s hands stilled. “Yeah?”

Rodney leaned over and kissed him softly. “Yeah.”

[sherlockian-syn.livejournal.com]

Any, any, Sunshine (Adagio in D Minor) by John Murphy (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5-4XD-wbalY)

No fic, but...

[creepy_shetan]

...I'LL BE BACK SOON. ♥ In a day or two, hopefully.

(My Tuesday is nearly over, but earlier today, I kid you not, I started writing a little Sunshine fic, which I haven't done in who knows how long. As if our host's Icarus-mentioning prompt wasn't coincidental enough, haha...)

Side question: would it be terrible if I ran with another movie featuring one of the same faces? ~_^

[raktajinos.livejournal.com]

Hart of Dixie, Lemon Breeland &/ any, coming through the other side

[raktajinos.livejournal.com]

Star Trek TNG/DS9/VGR, any, changing departments, changing uniform colours

[raktajinos.livejournal.com]

any, any, Your hands protect the flames...Icarus is flying too close to the sun

[sherlockian-syn.livejournal.com]

Any, any, Staring at the Sun by The Offspring (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2jgpYxh_9SY)

Fill 1/2: Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard/Rodney McKay

[brumeier.livejournal.com]

The Wraith were coming and there was nothing John could do about it. The satellite had failed, at the cost of a good man’s life, and Rodney was still trying to use his big, genius brain to get them out of their helpless situation. At least they’d managed to send one last message to the SGC, a warning as well as a final goodbye.

John hadn’t had any last words for his own family, just the families of the soldiers they’d lost. What would he have said? Those bridges had burned years ago. He’d watched Rodney’s, though, which he probably shouldn’t have because everyone deserved their privacy. In true McKay fashion he’d tried to leave a message that would keep him from being forgotten by the scientific community, but in the end he’d only had a message of regret for his sister.

Regrets. John had more than a few. That, at least, he could do something about.

“Major, I’m very busy,” Rodney snapped. From the manic gleam in his eyes, Dr. Beckett was still dispensing stimulants to the scientists. “In case you’ve forgotten, the –”

“Well aware.” John took firm hold of Rodney’s arm and steered him out of the lab while Zelenka pretended not to stare. “You need a break before you slip a gear.”

“I’ll have you know I’m operating at top capacity.”

“And I’ll have you know if you keep taking those stimulants your heart’s going to explode.”

Rodney rubbed a hand over his chest. “It’s very important for me to stay awake right now.”

Despite his continued protests, Rodney let himself be led out to the nearest balcony. John couldn’t help looking up, looking for signs of the incoming Hives, but it was too soon.

“I suppose you’re gearing up for some last-minute suicidal heroics,” Rodney muttered, wrapping his hands around the railing. His mouth was twisted down on one side.

“Never know what the situation will call for,” John replied. But in that moment, he wasn’t thinking about what was going to happen with the Wraith and Atlantis. “You know what the worst part is?”

“Everything?” Rodney guessed. “I could try to put that in a list from horrible to moderately shitty if that helps.”

John’s lips twitched up, almost a smile. “The worst part is almost running out of time for the really important stuff.”

Rodney made a derisive noise. “I’d like to know what you consider ‘really important stuff’ if not our continued survival.”

“This.”

John leaned over and kissed Rodney on the mouth, a chaste press of lips that lasted a very long seven seconds until Rodney pulled back, his bloodshot eyes wide as saucers.

“What are you…Why...What?”

John leaned against the railing, his heart pounding in his ears. That one small taste had ignited a desperate need inside him and he wanted nothing more than to press Rodney against the wall and kiss him till they both couldn’t breathe.

“Major?”

“There’s more to living than just surviving,” John said. He looked out across the Lantean Sea. “I’ve been really good at the survival part. Now I want the rest.”

[sherlockian-syn.livejournal.com]

Any, any,

Even though I like you, nobody knows
Even when I see other girls, nobody’s like you
I’m sorry for having no courage
You can laugh at me all you want
(Pentagon - Shine)

FILL: SKAM Austin, Shay Dixon/Megan Flores, Unrequited F/F angst, Part 1/2

[geckogirl89.livejournal.com]

(A/N: Set shortly before season 1 starts. Warnings for internalized homophobia, compulsory heterosexuality, closeted character angst, unrequited love, and a generally depressing fic.)

Shay doesn't want to have a crush on Meg because she doesn't want to be crushed under the weight of her own feelings.

It isn't as if she had never crushed on a straight girl before. But those crushes were at a distance, a girl she felt drawn to through brief, incidental contact like working together on a group project or sitting next to her in a classroom. Eventually, Shay would see the girl with her boyfriend at school or a party or somewhere else, and she would grieve for the loss of a dream that passed her by, but only for that. Within a couple weeks, she would find herself crushing on someone new.

Megan isn't some distant fantasy. She's Marlon's girlfriend, and Marlon is one of Shay's closest friends, so she ends up spending time with Megan at least a few times a week. She ends up becoming Shay's friend as a result, and Shay knows that their closeness puts her in danger of feeling more than just a crush for her beautiful, charming friend. So, she tries to look elsewhere, to get a crush on someone else who won't end up tearing her heart to pieces simply because of the fact that they aren’t capable of returning her affection.

It doesn't work.

Shay can't silence the sharp, critical voice at the back of her mind that sounds a lot like her mother, telling her that she should be a normal girl, a normal girl who dates boys and falls in love with them. So, she looks at the boys at her school, the jocks, nerds, and stoners, and feels the big, overwhelming weight of nothing she always feels when she forces herself to think of boys in a romantic light. The only guys she cares about one way or another are Marlon and Tyler, and she thinks of them as her brothers, not anyone she could date and definitely not anyone she could kiss.

She lets herself look at girls, too, but the results are startling in their similarity. Some of the girls are cute or pretty, but none of them feel as special to her as Meg does. None of them have Meg's bright eyes or sweet smile that makes Shay's heart flutter a little too fast like a hummingbird trapped in a cage. None of them have the soft voice that haunts Shay's dreams every single night.

As time passes, her crush doesn't go away. It only gets worse.

Each time Marlon and Meg kiss, Shay feels a painful, internal scream lodging in her throat and a sick, squeamish feeling twisting in her guts. She manages to cover it pretty well, acting outwardly just bored or mildly irritated when they kiss. Sometimes, when it feels really bad and she just can't watch them kiss anymore, Shay will find a way to playfully interrupt them in a way that looks more "annoying third wheel" than "jealous, desperately in love lesbian." At least to everyone but Tyler, who is the only person Shay has ever come out to because he's gay too and sometimes she needs someone to talk to about the shit she goes through on a daily basis. Lately, he's been giving her this raised eyebrow like he can see right through her transparent facade, and Shay turns away whenever she sees that look, unable to deal with someone else knowing every thought that goes through her head.

But as much as she hates Meg and Marlon kissing, she hates it more when Marlon says something condescending or rude to her or when Tyler, in some misguided overprotective best friend thing, starts being an asshole to Megan because he's cottoned on to the fact that she's breaking Shay's heart by being Marlon's girlfriend instead of hers. Meg gets this little frown on her face whenever Marlon or Tyler act like dicks, and seems especially downtrodden when Marlon treats her like crap, but the only thing Shay can really do is change the subject or find some way to get everybody focused on her instead of Megan. She can't comfort Megan the way she wants to, with hugs and kisses and promises that she would always treat her right and care about the things that matter to her.

[sherlockian-syn.livejournal.com]

BBC Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes /+ John Watson, spray painting the smiley face (https://qph.fs.quoracdn.net/main-qimg-48f8ea8b3a5df6e8e2ddf86770d6b482) on the wall of the flat

[creepy_shetan]

author's choice, any, "I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud" by William Wordsworth (aka "Daffodils")

Battle Creek

[daria234.livejournal.com]

"Let's just take a break here," Russ said. "I need to sit down for a while."

Milt gave Russ a faux-withering glance. Clearly he had figured out that Russ had noticed that Milt was struggling a little with the pain of walking all day; it was only Milt's second day back after leave. But Milt pulled up at his perfectly tailored suit pant legs and sat in the grass, right next to a patch of wild daffodils.

Russ looked down at him, at the annoyingly perfect face and shiny hair, and the suit wrapped tight around his body as he sat, his hands resting on his knees, surrounding by yellow flowers billowing in the wind.

He looked like a fucking male model selling cologne or some shit.

"You look ridiculous, by the way," Russ said casually, as he sat next to him in the grass.

Milt looked at him, confused at what that could mean, but let it pass. He was apparently used to Russ' bullshit.

[creepy_shetan]

author's choice, any, golden retriever(s)

[creepy_shetan]

author's choice, any, how to keep [character] from stealing your food: put mustard on it

[classics-lover.livejournal.com]

Star Trek TOS/TNG/DS9/VGR, any (+/ any), "We all live in a yellow submarine, a yellow submarine, a yellow submarine..."

[classics-lover.livejournal.com]

Brooklyn Nine-Nine, any, "Why is yellow associated with cowards? Yellow is kick-ass!"

[classics-lover.livejournal.com]

Hawaii Five-O, Steve McGarrett/Danny Williams + Grace Williams, Grace saves them from picking the wrong yellow paint for the living room

[classics-lover.livejournal.com]

Any (please no SPN), any, Lisa: I'd like 25 copies on Goldenrod.
Clerk: Right.
Lisa: 25 on Canary.
Clerk: Mmhmm.
Lisa: 25 on Saffron.
Clerk: All right.
Lisa: And 25 on Paella.
Clerk: Ok, 100 yellow.

Please substitute Lisa Simpson for anyone else

[classics-lover.livejournal.com]

Brooklyn Nine-Nine, ensemble, Wizard of Oz AU or fusion

[lynne-monstr.livejournal.com]

Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency, Dirk Gently, the yellow jacket