Bite Sized Bits of Fic

Stargate Multiverse, Any, This Place Has No Atmosphere (Paula Danziger)

From:

Marvel Cinematic Universe, Bucky Barnes +/ Any, The Real Me (Betty Miles)

From:

Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard, No Flying in the House (Betty Brock)

From:

Trixie Belden Mysteries/The Three Investigators, Trixie Belden +/ Jupiter Jones, The Face on the Milk Carton (Caroline B. Cooney)

From:

weesta.livejournal.com

When I saw this prompt I freaked out a little - Trixie Belden AND The Three Investigators?! Two of my FAVORITES!

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Trixie sighed in contentment. It was just too wonderful to be in California! When Trixie had exclaimed that California was “a million miles away” Mart tried to explain the actual mileage and Trixie threw an apple at his head. And even though she knew she’d be teased endlessly by her brothers, if anyone asked her she’d say best part of the trip was seeing real, live palm trees.

Honey squeezed Trixie’s hand, “Come on, Trixie! Finish your breakfast. Mother and Father are ready to head to the movie studio.”

That got Trixie moving in a flash. Trixie threw her spoon in her cereal bowl. Honey carried the dishes to the sink, while Trixie grabbed the milk to put back in the fridge. Maybe they were old fashioned back on Crabapple Farm, but Trixie prefered her milk in bottles rather than this odd cardboard carton. The picture on the back of the carton caught her eye; it was terribly sad to think of a family missing their child...and her imagination started to wander.

Once again Honey pulled Trixie out of her reverie, ordering her to put on her shoes, fix her hair and get moving. In no time at all the girls had joined Jim and the Wheelers in their limo and were headed toward the studio.

Trixie marveled at the scenery, thrilled that her parents had allowed her to join the Wheelers on this spur-of-the-moment trip. The gates of the studio were impressive and once they were on the lot, Trixie looked every which way trying to see everything all at once. The driver deftly maneuvered between golf carts and trucks until he parked in front of a bungalow nestled between two larger buildings.

The Wheelers disembarked from the limo with a hand from the chauffeur; Jim, Honey and Trixie clambered out behind them. Trixie immediately noticed a shiny Rolls Royce parked nearby. Three boys were exiting the bungalow chatting excitedly with one another. One boy was rather stout with dark hair; one boy had sandy hair and wore glasses, but it was the third boy, the tallest of the three with brown hair who caught Trixie’s eye.

She was sure it wasn’t her imagination - his was the face on the milk carton.

Trixie tried to get the attention of Honey and Jim while keeping an eye on the trio. She was surprised to realize that they were the apparent owners of the Rolls Royce! Trixie tried to hear any part of their conversation, but the only thing she could clearly make out was the driver calling the boys by name: Master Jones, Master Crenshaw and Master Andrews. Bother! She didn’t know which one was which!

In a matter of moments the boys and the Rolls Royce were gone, but Trixie was determined that in the time she had left she would figure out a way to track down that boy - the face on the milk carton.

From:

This is great! Very much in keeping with the tone of the books. Thank you so much!!

Vanillafluffy writes a lot of adult Trixie/Jupiter stories based off my prompts. You should check her out on AO3 (https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillafluffy/pseuds/vanillafluffy/works?fandom_id=727234).

From:

weesta.livejournal.com

Thank you! I will check her out :)

From:

Lovely fill! So cool to see someone else tackling this crossover. I don't know Trixie Belden well but I feel like you got the tone perfect!

From:

Any, any m/m, Someone in the House (Barbara Michaels)

(deleted comment)

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Thanks for a fill!

From:

Thank you for the fill!

From:

cozy-coffee.livejournal.com

Any, any, silly doggy by adam stower

From:

Patrick was unamused when he rounded the corner in pursuit of Mars and found the traitorous canine lying on his back, leg kicking while he let some total stranger scratch his belly.

“Silly doggy,” the man was saying, smiling delightedly, all big blue eyes and dimples as he knelt and gave Mars a thorough belly-rub.

“Mars!” Patrick snapped.

Mars’s leg stopped kicking, and he twisted his head, looked at Patrick upside down, tongue lolling out of his mouth from where he’d been panting happily under the undeserved adoration from the admittedly handsome stranger.

The man looked up. His expression didn’t dim an iota. “You this guy’s human?”

“Yes,” Patrick said, brandishing the leash Mars had broken off of. “Mars rather rudely abandoned me and is also in violation of multiple municipal ordinances and needs to get back on his leash immediately.”

“Of course.” The man straightened up, and Mars rolled onto his feet, trotted over to Patrick without the least bit of shame.

Patrick leaned down, went to clip the leash back onto Mars’s collar, and remembered the clasp was broken. He didn’t want to tie the leash to the collar, and he hesitated.

“Need a hand?” The other man stepped closer.

Patrick noticed he was wearing dark dusty boots, black jeans, a dark t-shirt, and a black leather jacket.

“I need to temporarily affix Mars to his leash till I can buy a new one.”

The man reached into his jacket and drew out a cable tie. “This’ll do the trick. Save you a knot in the leash that’ll be hard to get off the collar.”

Patrick eyed the cable tie. “You an electrician or computer network engineer or something?”

“Or something,” the man said. “I’m in law enforcement. Riot cuffs, basically.” He shrugged, looking a little bashful.

“Oh?” Patrick accepted the cable tie, looped it through the loop on the clasp and on Mars’s collar, cinched it down.

“Agent Nathan Kessler, FBI,” the man said.

“What’s the FBI doing in...Canada?” Patrick asked. In a small town on the edge of the backwoods, no less.

“On a hunting trip with some buddies.”

As if on cue, two men in similar dark attire stepped out of the convenience store.

“Nathan, c’mon, this thing isn’t going to hunt itself!” The younger of the men banged on the hood of their pickup truck.

“Hunting?” Patrick wasn’t a fan of either blood or violence.

“Yeah.” Nathan glanced over his shoulder. “Be right there.” He flashed Patrick another dimpled smile. “It was nice to meet you, and Mars too.” He leaned down, scratched Mars behind the ears, and then crossed the street to his friends.

“What the hell were you thinking, petting a dog?” the older man demanded. “They can tell.”

“Relax,” Nathan said, pulling open the passenger door. “Full moon’s not for a couple more days. I made a friend.”

“Let’s go gank this sumbitch so your friend can stay safe,” the younger man said.

The older man shoved his shoulder. “You aren’t allowed to make new friends anymore either.”

Patrick watched the men pile into the truck, watched it pull away, and felt unease prickle down his spine. Then he turned and headed for the pet store, Mars on his heels.

“Come on, you,” Patrick said. “Let’s get you a new leash.”

From:

cozy-coffee.livejournal.com

That was a lovely read!!! Perfect way to start a chilly weekend, kept warm with this wonderful fic!! Thank you so much, love! Big hugs!

From:

You are so welcome, and thank you for the hugs!

From:

Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard + Dave Sheppard, Family Law in a Nutshell

From:

Stargate Atlantis, Jeannie Miller + Rodney McKay, The Expert System’s Brother (Adrian Tchaikovsky)

From:

Final Fantasy VIII, Seifer Almasy +/ any, Hyperion (Dan Simmons)

From:

Marvel Cinematic Universe, Tony Stark +/ Stephen Strange, Natural Witchery (Ellen Dugan)

From:

Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard/Rodney McKay, This is the Noise that Keeps Me Awake (Garbage)

From:

BBC Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes +/ John Watson, Milk and Honey (Rupi Kaur)

From:

Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard/Evan Lorne (/Rodney McKay), The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue (Mackenzi Lee)

Edited Date: 2018-11-08 03:33 pm (UTC)

From:

Rodney had never put much stock into that whole officer and a gentleman thing, probably because the soldiers he’d been around, like cranky impatient Ford and sarcastic O’Neill, were not particularly gentlemen, and of course Carter was not a gentleman (and how did that work for female officers anyway?). John was Rodney’s friend, and when men were friends, well, they weren’t exactly nice to each other. They were sarcastic and competitive and ribbing. And they were willing to fight and die for each other.

Lorne was just as sarcastic as John and Rodney, could hold his own in a battle of wits, but he was different from John. Rodney saw it in John sometimes, when he wore his fancy blue uniform, when he was being an officer, a certain dignity. Lorne was that way...all the time. It was little things - opening doors for people, letting them into the transporter ahead of him, the way he always brought coffee for everyone at Rodney’s bench whenever he came into the lab, usually to see Radek or act as a human light switch.

“Lorne’s a - well, he’s what our instructors in flight school liked to call a model officer,” John said when Rodney asked about it one time.

“You were in flight school together?” Rodney asked.

John nodded. He and Rodney were playing Mario Kart on one of the communal GameCubes. “He cares about being an officer. It means a lot to him. Not that it doesn’t mean a lot to me, but - it means something different to him. It means being a gentleman and all the other trappings of a military career that aren’t really combat-related.” He glanced at Rodney. “He giving you a hard time or something?”

“No. I just noticed that he’s - different.”

“He does his best to be as virtuous an officer as they come,” John said, not without amusement.

“I always thought military men swore and drank and slept around a lot,” Rodney admitted.

“You’re thinking of Marines,” John drawled.

Rodney still didn’t quite understand the interservice rivalries.

“Officers marry to advance,” John said.

Rodney frowned, glanced at him. “You’re not married.”

“Not anymore.”

Rodney heard the bitterness in his tone and didn’t press it. “Is Lorne married?”

“No,” John said, and his expression turned unreadable, a gleam in his eye. “But we all have our vices. Even Lorne.”

“Like what?” Rodney asked, skeptical.

John drawled, “Don’t ask, don’t tell.”

And suddenly Rodney wondered. Were John and Lorne…?

He watched Lorne over the next few days, for any sign that he and John were anything but officer and commander, but he saw none. Lorne was as polite as ever, would bring cookies and coffee to the command office when he brought John forms to sign, still brought coffee to the labs. He initiated things for Miko when she asked even if he wasn’t on lightswitch duty, and one time he carried a stack of files across the city for Heightmeyer even though it was something a lowly Marine could have done.

And then Lorne caught up to him in the hallway one night, after supper, when he was headed back to his quarters.

“Hey, Doc.”

“Major,” Rodney said cautiously.

Lorne’s smile was friendly, polite. “John said you were curious about me, the other day.”

That gave Rodney pause. Why would Lorne be on a first-name basis with John, a man who outranked him?

Lorne leaned in, lowered his voice. “He said you were curious about us.”

Rodney came up short. “When you say us, you mean -”

“Don’t ask, don’t tell,” Evan said. “But if you like, I can show you.”

“Show me?” Rodney echoed.

“I’m an artist. We like pretty things on display. You in?”

Rodney couldn’t begin to guess what that meant, but he did know that John and Lorne together would be ridiculously hot. He lifted his chin, nodded. “I’m in.”

Lorne smiled. “Come on.” And he led Rodney to his quarters.

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