comment_fic | Tuesday: AU

tigriswolf posting in

Hello, everyone. I’m

tigriswolf and today's theme is AU. Prompts can be anything you like about alternate universes.

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...
+ example
+ example
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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.

tag=AU

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

brumeier.livejournal.com

Stargate Multiverse, Any, Search & Rescue AU

From:

brumeier.livejournal.com

Hawaii Five-0, Steve McGarrett/Danny Williams, Steve is a single dad

From:

brumeier.livejournal.com

Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard/Rodney McKay, working at/visiting an historical reenactment

From:

nagi-schwarz.livejournal.com

While a historical reenactment site was really useful for a history class, John wasn’t actually a history major, was taking it as a gen ed requirement, and he wasn’t all that interested in seeing a bunch of guys running around in tights, swirly coats, and ponytails saying a whole bunch of thee and thou and pretending to have sword fights or whatever.

John lingered behind his classmates while their professor - a cheery woman who was built like a tank and was a power-lifter in her spare time - wrangled their park passes, and then she distributed worksheets for them to fill out as proof of their paying attention before she cut them loose.

Most of John’s classmates had spent the bus ride over (it felt more like a high school field trip than a college one, but whatever, they were all freshmen right out of high school) pairing up and making plans about what they wanted to see. John accepted his worksheet and the little paper map, and then he set to wandering.

He figured if he moved fast, he could get the worksheet done quickly and then find somewhere to hunker down with his puzzle book. The park was actually pretty nice. The gift shop was near the entrance, attached to a fancy restaurant that was also a large colonial house, so they could see what colonial daily life was like (for the rich).

John had just about completed his worksheet when he came across the blacksmith forge.

Which was empty.

Given that they’d arrived right as the park opened, not all of the displays had been fully staffed and set up. John had lingered at the stable, petting the horse and half-listening to the ostler. He was kind of disappointed that the smithy wasn’t up and running - though there appeared to be the faintest glow of flame in the coal forge - because a smithy was usually staffed by attractive men with broad shoulders and impressive upper bodies.

There was only one question on the worksheet about the smithy, so John cast about for some place to sit where he was out of the way and could tackle a sudoku puzzle. He found a bench around the side of the smithy where he could prop himself up against the wood siding and lose himself in numbers and ciphers.

And then he heard voices.

“We should get out there,” a man said. “Park’s officially open.”

“You’re such a square,” a second man said.

“He just wants to get at the glory hole,” a third man said.

“Oh, ha ha. Get all your blowing jokes out of your system now, because once we’re on deck, it’s all good manners or else,” the first man said.

“This from the guy who blows rods all day,” the second man said.

“Well, it’s the blowing I do after hours that you care about more, isn’t it?” the first man said.

There were snickers.

“Honestly, I just like the looks on everyone’s faces when Ronon isn’t the blacksmith,” the first man said.

“Are you saying I look weak?” the second man demanded.

“Ronon looks like he could kill both of us with his bare hands,” the first man said.

“True,” the first man muttered.

There was a pause, a sigh.

“C’mon. Let’s do this. No more ramen, remember?”

“No more ramen,” the other two chorused, like a pre-game pep chant.

There was some rustling, the opening and closing of a door. John scooted to the end of his bench and peeked around the corner and into the smithy and saw three men.

One of them was a tall man, his brown dreadlocked hair pulled back in a ponytail. He was massively muscular, though he wore knee breeches, hose, and boots, and one of those billowy-sleeved shirts beneath a leather apron. One of the men had short dark hair and bright blue eyes and was similarly attired. The third man was by far the prettiest, with long curly blond hair pulled back in a neat queue, bright blue eyes, and a fascinating mouth.

“Ronon, heat the forge,” he said. He’d been the second voice.

Ronon, with the dreadlocks, snagged a pair of billows off the wall and set to blowing air into the forge.

“Don’t hog all his time,” the other man called over his shoulder. “He’s apprenticed to me, not you.”

From:

nagi-schwarz.livejournal.com

The blond man rolled his eyes, but then the other man set to heating the kiln tucked into the corner. He’d set curious doors in front of the kiln, that didn’t close all the way but had a hole in the middle, and a series of other doors with larger holes that fit over it. It looked kind of artistic, really.

Once that was set to heating, the man turned away from the kiln and started laying out tools - a pair of giant metal pincer-looking things, a wad of newsprint, and also a massive metal rod.

Ronon and the pretty blond man were hustling at the forge, laying out hammers and tongs and also a massive barrel of water. John saw the moment they noticed him, and then exchanged glances.

It was the man at the kiln - the glassblower, then - who ambled over to the little wooden fence that separated the display from the audience and smiled at John.

“Good day, sir. Welcome to the hot shop. I am Lorne, the gaffer. Mr. McKay is the blacksmith, and Prentiss Ronon is my assistant.”

The other two nodded at John but continued to focus on their work.

“Uh, good day,” John offered. “What are you working on today?”

“I have been commissioned a vase by the lady of the manor. As for the smith -”

“A kitchen knife,” McKay said. “Also for the lady of the manor.”

John leaned on the fence, intrigued. “You can make knives?”

“’Tis more amusing than shoeing horses, which is farriers’ work,” McKay said, frowning.

“That’s cool. When did you start learning?”

“I was apprenticed to the previous smith when I was eight, and I have been a master smith since I turned eighteen,” McKay said, and that probably wasn’t true, he was in character, but still. He rolled up his sleeves, and he had very muscular forearms. He used the tongs to fish a hot piece of metal out of the forge with a cry of hot metal! and then he was hammering on the forge.

There was something almost musical about the ring of metal, and there was definitely something rhythmic about it.

“Is forging hard?” John asked.

“As long as you hammer on the metal when it’s hot, it will move,” McKay said. “Hammer on it when it’s cold and you’ll break it.”

In the background, Lorne was wielding that metal pipe with casual ease, twirling it expertly. Then he dipped it into what looked like a bucket of powder and then stuck the powdery end in the kiln, turning the pipe all the while. Ronon was attending him, listening while he spoke softly.

“What makes a good kitchen knife?” John asked. That wasn’t one of the questions on his worksheet, but he didn’t care, because he was fascinated by the play of muscle in McKay’s arms, the sound of his voice while he spoke.

McKay started to declaim about what made a good kitchen knife - the balance point, the ability of the edge to retain sharpness for constant use, the location of the plunge grind so the cook could keep her fingers safe, whether to curve the blade so it could slice with a rocking motion or to keep the cutting edge straight for chopping. He was clearly an expert at what he did.

Other people, including some of John’s fellow students, approached the display. Most of them called out to Lorne, asking him questions about what he was doing, how the process worked. Ronon was on hand to hand Lorne tools or even to blow into the pipe sometimes while Lorne was turning it.

It took McKay about four passes of hammering before he plunged the hot metal into the barrel of water, which steamed and hissed.

“Now,” he said to John, “on to the grinding to clean off the worst of the forge scale and start to sharpen the edge.”

John nodded, watching McKay work. It was hot in the smithy, and his shirt was soaked with sweat and almost see through as a result. His chest was broad and muscular where the fabric clung to his skin.

From:

nagi-schwarz.livejournal.com

Lorne had completed a pretty green vase, and he set it in the tempering oven so it cooled evenly and didn’t crack later. Once he was finished, most of the crowd dispersed, but John remained, still watching McKay work. Sparks flew off the grinding wheel, but McKay didn’t even flinch, and nothing caught on fire, so John didn’t worry too much.

“Here,” McKay said, and held the knife out to John so he could see. “It’s single-edged, for a right-handed cook. The plunge grind is here so someone can hold the knife up here and still cut without risking injury themselves.”

He was holding the knife bare-handed, so John figured it wasn’t hot. He reached out, cradled the unfinished blade carefully in his hands. It was lighter than he’d expected.

“You’re really good at this.”

“Beating hot metal is a good way to vent one’s frustrations at one’s doctoral committee,” McKay said.

John looked at him. “You’re only a couple of years older than me.”

McKay realized he’d slipped out of character. “Ah, well -”

John leaned in, lowered his voice. “What time do you get off?”

McKay’s eyes went wide. But then he said, “At four.”

John said, “Call me,” and gave McKay his number.

McKay nodded, and John winked before he stepped back.

“Later,” he said. He started to walk away, then paused. “Why do you cool the metal in the water?”

“Quenching is to harden the metal before it’s sharpened, so it retains an edge,” McKay said, looking a little dazed.

“Quenching. Hardening. I’ll remember that.” John waved and turned to go, leaving a blushing McKay behind.

He was back on campus and just getting out of his last class when his phone buzzed. Incoming call from a strange number.

“Hello?”

“Hey, this is Rodney - McKay, the blacksmith.”

“Hey, Rodney. My name is John.”

From:

brumeier.livejournal.com

Gah! I love this! Way to use your knowledge of forging! ::grins:: John's instant attraction to Rodney is awesome, and I love that he leaves his number. Smooth! LOL! Plus the banter between Rodney, Ronon and Evan was pretty funny.

Thank you so much for this!

From:

nagi-schwarz.livejournal.com

You are so welcome! My one high school visit to Colonial Williamsburg has finally paid off.

From:

brumeier.livejournal.com

LOL! Indeed it has!

From:

brumeier.livejournal.com

Marvel Cinematic Universe, ensemble, Stan Lee memorial

From:

sherlockian-syn.livejournal.com

excuse u, how dare u hurt me like this

From:

brumeier.livejournal.com

I'm super daring that way. ::nods::

From:

untldeathtakeme.livejournal.com

(because I'm not good enough to write it)

...but now I'm just picturing various MCU people breaking the Fourth Wall to talk about Stan Lee and I'm sad.

Edited Date: 2018-11-13 06:26 pm (UTC)

From:

brumeier.livejournal.com

I'm sorry for making everyone sad! ::passes around tissues::

From:

untldeathtakeme.livejournal.com

Aw, I didn't want you to feel bad about making us sad! *takes tissues with thanks* I was debating leaving a prompt regarding him yesterday anyway. Someone was going to.