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Hi! Your story is now being tracked by @dresdenwips, hope you don't mind. :)
Re: oh why the fuck not, let's be neat about things
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taragreen89.livejournal.com
2011-03-09 05:25 pm (UTC)(link)
•When John Marcone crosses the street, the cars have to look both ways.
•On Valentine’s Day, John Marcone gives Harry Dresden the still beating heart of one of his enemies. Being very romantic, John Marcone believes every day should be Valentine’s Day.
•On Valentine’s Day, John Marcone gives Harry Dresden the still beating heart of one of his enemies. Being very romantic, John Marcone believes every day should be Valentine’s Day.
This is great - can't wait for the next bit.
Do you think I'd be that obvious and then get away with it that quietly?
:DD
:DD
Something descriptive about Marcone's suit? I need it in my life! How his clothes are all expensive and hot.
Slash or gen, no matter. Thanks!
Bonus for Dresden/Marcone UST.
Slash or gen, no matter. Thanks!
Bonus for Dresden/Marcone UST.
"Wow." Harry hopped out of the van, staring up at the Carpenters' house. "This is really your house?"
"Yes. My husband Michael built it." Charity walked around to the back of the van and slid the door open, letting Mouse jump out before she reached in to start pulling out everything they'd brought with them.
"I can carry that." Harry appeared at Charity's side, trying to pull the heavy can of Mouse's dog food from her hands.
"No, I think this is too heavy for you." She pulled it gently away from him and set it down on the drive. "How about you carry this for me?" Charity handed him the empty litter pan and the half-full bag of kitty litter. Molly hauled Mister, yowling in his carrier into the house and Harry followed her, trying to stare at everything without being caught at it.
They were still hauling things into the house, Molly and Charity lugging the dog food between the two of them when Murphy pulled up on her motorcycle. Harry was standing up near the front of the house, fidgeting because Charity had told him he couldn't help. Mouse had planted himself in front of the boy, slowly edging closer. Harry hadn't warmed up to the big dog, but he didn't actively move away any longer.
"You guys want some help?"
"No!" Molly panted out. If they let Murphy help, Harry would get upset that they'd lied and told him they didn't need his help.
"Why don't you take Harry inside and get settled in the guest room, Karrin? We'll be up in just a minute."
"Let's go, kiddo." Murphy shouldered her bag and led the boy and the dog inside.
"You're going to be staying here too?"
"Just for a little bit. Charity and her family are friends of mine." Murphy could see Harry looking at her out of the corner of his eye.
"Is he yours?" Harry glanced behind them at Mouse, who was following a few steps behind. The dog didn't seem to want to let Harry out of his sight.
"Um...kind of. We take care of each other, on occasion." Murphy grinned at the dog who gave her a little doggy smile and wagged his tail, thumping it against the walls of the hallway.
"What do you feed him? He's *huge*!"
~
"Harry, this is my husband Michael."
It had been a rough day. Charity could tell because Michael was leaning a little more heavily on his cane, his eyes crinkled up with each step. But he smiled down at Harry and didn't let any of his exhaustion or confusion show.
"Mr. Carpenter." Harry stepped down off of the stool he'd been using so he could help chop vegetables for dinner. He straightened the bottom of his t-shirt and tried to wipe his hands off on the back of his jean shorts without anyone noticing. Charity smothered a small grin at the very serious look Harry adopted.
"Pleasure to meet you Harry. You can call me Michael." He held out his hand and Harry took it, his hand tiny and pale against Michael's own tanned skin.
"Harry, why don't you go play in the yard with the kids?" He'd been a little overwhelmed once all of the children came home from school, but once the kids had gotten over the newness of Harry they'd settled down to play or do homework. Harry had left them half an hour before Michael got home, about the time Charity had gone into the kitchen to start on dinner.
Harry glanced in the direction of the backyard, then shook his head.
"I can set the table, if you don't want me in the kitchen anymore?" Charity sighed and got the plates and silverware together, setting them down on the dining room table.
"You can set the table, then go outside and play for a bit. You need some fresh air." She turned to Michael as Harry puttered around the long table. "Ms. Murphy got ahold of you?"
"She did. Molly's out in the front yard finishing up the wards. I spoke to her on the way in." He leaned back against the counter, taking weight off of his leg. "Are you sure it's safe to have him outside?"
"Molly did the backyard first and Karrin is outside with the kids. When Harry goes out Mouse'll go with him. We can't keep him cooped up in here." She took his hand in hers and kissed him.
"Does he know anything?" She shook her head.
"As far as I can tell, no. He doesn't remember anything. Molly's going to do what research she can on her own, without alerting the Council. And she's hopeful that the spell, however it was done, will wear off in a couple of days on its own."
"Yes. My husband Michael built it." Charity walked around to the back of the van and slid the door open, letting Mouse jump out before she reached in to start pulling out everything they'd brought with them.
"I can carry that." Harry appeared at Charity's side, trying to pull the heavy can of Mouse's dog food from her hands.
"No, I think this is too heavy for you." She pulled it gently away from him and set it down on the drive. "How about you carry this for me?" Charity handed him the empty litter pan and the half-full bag of kitty litter. Molly hauled Mister, yowling in his carrier into the house and Harry followed her, trying to stare at everything without being caught at it.
They were still hauling things into the house, Molly and Charity lugging the dog food between the two of them when Murphy pulled up on her motorcycle. Harry was standing up near the front of the house, fidgeting because Charity had told him he couldn't help. Mouse had planted himself in front of the boy, slowly edging closer. Harry hadn't warmed up to the big dog, but he didn't actively move away any longer.
"You guys want some help?"
"No!" Molly panted out. If they let Murphy help, Harry would get upset that they'd lied and told him they didn't need his help.
"Why don't you take Harry inside and get settled in the guest room, Karrin? We'll be up in just a minute."
"Let's go, kiddo." Murphy shouldered her bag and led the boy and the dog inside.
"You're going to be staying here too?"
"Just for a little bit. Charity and her family are friends of mine." Murphy could see Harry looking at her out of the corner of his eye.
"Is he yours?" Harry glanced behind them at Mouse, who was following a few steps behind. The dog didn't seem to want to let Harry out of his sight.
"Um...kind of. We take care of each other, on occasion." Murphy grinned at the dog who gave her a little doggy smile and wagged his tail, thumping it against the walls of the hallway.
"What do you feed him? He's *huge*!"
~
"Harry, this is my husband Michael."
It had been a rough day. Charity could tell because Michael was leaning a little more heavily on his cane, his eyes crinkled up with each step. But he smiled down at Harry and didn't let any of his exhaustion or confusion show.
"Mr. Carpenter." Harry stepped down off of the stool he'd been using so he could help chop vegetables for dinner. He straightened the bottom of his t-shirt and tried to wipe his hands off on the back of his jean shorts without anyone noticing. Charity smothered a small grin at the very serious look Harry adopted.
"Pleasure to meet you Harry. You can call me Michael." He held out his hand and Harry took it, his hand tiny and pale against Michael's own tanned skin.
"Harry, why don't you go play in the yard with the kids?" He'd been a little overwhelmed once all of the children came home from school, but once the kids had gotten over the newness of Harry they'd settled down to play or do homework. Harry had left them half an hour before Michael got home, about the time Charity had gone into the kitchen to start on dinner.
Harry glanced in the direction of the backyard, then shook his head.
"I can set the table, if you don't want me in the kitchen anymore?" Charity sighed and got the plates and silverware together, setting them down on the dining room table.
"You can set the table, then go outside and play for a bit. You need some fresh air." She turned to Michael as Harry puttered around the long table. "Ms. Murphy got ahold of you?"
"She did. Molly's out in the front yard finishing up the wards. I spoke to her on the way in." He leaned back against the counter, taking weight off of his leg. "Are you sure it's safe to have him outside?"
"Molly did the backyard first and Karrin is outside with the kids. When Harry goes out Mouse'll go with him. We can't keep him cooped up in here." She took his hand in hers and kissed him.
"Does he know anything?" She shook her head.
"As far as I can tell, no. He doesn't remember anything. Molly's going to do what research she can on her own, without alerting the Council. And she's hopeful that the spell, however it was done, will wear off in a couple of days on its own."
Hi! Your story is now being tracked by @dresdenwips - hope you don't mind. :)
Hi! Your story is now being tracked by @dresdenwips, hope you don't mind. :)
Just a guess here, but are you an alumnus Inception fandom? 8D
I was already thinking "best postscript ever" for the Killer Tomatoes reference. And then I got to the Marcone/Rahm. Win forever.
This is perfect. Could totally see this happening.
I'm so happy that you've continued this story, I've such a great time reading it !
As the OP for the Doctor Who prompt and the Inception prompt in Round 1, I have been working on coming to terms for my love of Dresden crossovers. (It's a many-step process.) In that vein, I can only suggest:
Intersect + Archive: besties4eva Y/Y?
John Casey/everyone: Gard? Kincaid? ERLKING?
Intersect + Archive: besties4eva Y/Y?
John Casey/everyone: Gard? Kincaid? ERLKING?
Intercrural sex please!
Any M/M pairing is fine, including our old standby, but I'd be particularly excited about Harry/Kincaid for this one.
Any M/M pairing is fine, including our old standby, but I'd be particularly excited about Harry/Kincaid for this one.
This is great in and of itself, but now I want the 300-page epic in this 'verse.
[With apologies to the illustrious Ms. Heyer.]
[n.b. Your humble author begs to remind her gentle readers that the illustrious Ms. Heyer didn't worry particularly about historical accuracy, so neither shall this most grateful of copyists.]
March 1808
Lieutenant Karrin Murphy, eldest daughter of the Marquess of Donegal, lately of the Royal Squadron of Special Investigators, was accompanied by Viscount Stallings as she approached the front entrance of White's.
"'Pon rep', Karrin," declared Stallings. "The Season will be starting up soon. If these demmed cases ever let up, perhaps we can high ourselves to Almack's. Pick a pair of primrose beauties to woo, the kind that don't mind being decoration on a stalwart officer's arm, eh?"
"Not interested, and you know why," said Karrin. A hypothetical bystander, noticing Stallings' longer legs (while admiring Lieutenant Murphy's own muscular thighs), would have been rather surprised to notice the Lieutenant's brisk pace was fast enough to force the Viscount to hurry.
"Your marriage with Rich was annulled years ago, Karrin." Stallings blanched in the face of Murphy's steely glare, but brazened forth nonetheless. "It's time to move on."
"Anyone who would have me with my current reputation..." Murphy paused, her lip curling in a delicate sneer. "Would be a fortune hunter of the worst sort. Besides, I'm done with the dewy lads and lasses and their greedy mammas. I'm done with love altogether, as you perfectly well know." Her thoughts slipped back to that last disastrous fight with Rich.
"I married a Royal Hussar," Rich yelled, his usually handsome face purpling. "Not a member of his Majesty's laughingstock corps."
"You married a woman with integrity," she said tearfully. Karrin held her hands open in front of her, asking wordlessly for the support of his closeness. Back then she'd still been capable of both weeping and hope. "You can't ask me to withdraw my accusations against Rudolph! He colluded with murderers."
Rich stalked to the door, turning at the last moment to throw a parting shot over his shoulder. "I shan't ask you for anything ever again. Except to have my things sent round to my father's."
Karrin stood empty, heedless of the servants doubtless listening at the parlour door. She could bear her disgrace and the withdrawal of her commission; she could bear that it was nothing but the power of her father's name that had her transferred to this nonsensical spiritualist brigade; she could bear being sent away from France and the honor of fighting Boney. But she'd thought Rich loved her, not her rank and position. She didn't think she could bear the feel of her heart breaking.
The only solution was to stop having a heart altogether.
Karrin was harshly knocked from her unpleasant reverie when a gangling scarecrow of a man hurtled into her, sending her to the sidewalk. She looked up, one eyebrow raised sardonically, while Stallings babbled concern.
"Oh!" The man -- more of a boy, really -- looked flustered and appalled at himself. "Ma'am! I beg your pardon!" He reached down one ridiculously large hand to help her up.
Karrin ignored the ramshackle lad's importuning grasp, and rolled easily to her feet. "Watch where you're going, lad."
The youth flushed hotly, the flush providing an unexpected appealing tinge to his starvling cheeks. "I would have, if you weren't too tiny for me to see."
"I say!" Stallings cried, appalled, but Karrin merely laughed. Most people were excruciatingly polite to her face in a way that was just shy of inexcusably rude; a disgraced viscount had that effect on people. This impertinent rascal in his ridiculous coat was refreshing, after a fashion. Stallings, however, was not quelled. "This is the Viscount Antrim you just cheeked, rascal!"
The boy flushed even brighter. "Stars. I'm sorry, m'lady. Though you are pretty short, but I'm still sorry. Oh, hell's bells." And with that bizarre oath, he scurried off down the street in a flurry of black canvas. She watched him run, absently admiring his steady pace -- or perhaps she was admiring the musculature of his lanky calves.
"Impudent fool," said Stallings.
Karrin blinked. That had been a refreshing break from her usual off-duty entertainments: embittered cynicism and cool ennui. She felt... energized. "I've changed my mind, Stallings." She turned away from White's. "I'm going to Gentleman Jackson's."
"Again?" Stallings frowned. "You spend half your waking hours at that blasted aikido saloon."
She shrugged. "And if you spent a few more there yourself, you might not have been knocked down by that cracksman outside Whitehall last month." She smiled at his discomfiture, feeling more energized than she had in days. "Don't wait up for me."
[n.b. Your humble author begs to remind her gentle readers that the illustrious Ms. Heyer didn't worry particularly about historical accuracy, so neither shall this most grateful of copyists.]
March 1808
Lieutenant Karrin Murphy, eldest daughter of the Marquess of Donegal, lately of the Royal Squadron of Special Investigators, was accompanied by Viscount Stallings as she approached the front entrance of White's.
"'Pon rep', Karrin," declared Stallings. "The Season will be starting up soon. If these demmed cases ever let up, perhaps we can high ourselves to Almack's. Pick a pair of primrose beauties to woo, the kind that don't mind being decoration on a stalwart officer's arm, eh?"
"Not interested, and you know why," said Karrin. A hypothetical bystander, noticing Stallings' longer legs (while admiring Lieutenant Murphy's own muscular thighs), would have been rather surprised to notice the Lieutenant's brisk pace was fast enough to force the Viscount to hurry.
"Your marriage with Rich was annulled years ago, Karrin." Stallings blanched in the face of Murphy's steely glare, but brazened forth nonetheless. "It's time to move on."
"Anyone who would have me with my current reputation..." Murphy paused, her lip curling in a delicate sneer. "Would be a fortune hunter of the worst sort. Besides, I'm done with the dewy lads and lasses and their greedy mammas. I'm done with love altogether, as you perfectly well know." Her thoughts slipped back to that last disastrous fight with Rich.
"I married a Royal Hussar," Rich yelled, his usually handsome face purpling. "Not a member of his Majesty's laughingstock corps."
"You married a woman with integrity," she said tearfully. Karrin held her hands open in front of her, asking wordlessly for the support of his closeness. Back then she'd still been capable of both weeping and hope. "You can't ask me to withdraw my accusations against Rudolph! He colluded with murderers."
Rich stalked to the door, turning at the last moment to throw a parting shot over his shoulder. "I shan't ask you for anything ever again. Except to have my things sent round to my father's."
Karrin stood empty, heedless of the servants doubtless listening at the parlour door. She could bear her disgrace and the withdrawal of her commission; she could bear that it was nothing but the power of her father's name that had her transferred to this nonsensical spiritualist brigade; she could bear being sent away from France and the honor of fighting Boney. But she'd thought Rich loved her, not her rank and position. She didn't think she could bear the feel of her heart breaking.
The only solution was to stop having a heart altogether.
Karrin was harshly knocked from her unpleasant reverie when a gangling scarecrow of a man hurtled into her, sending her to the sidewalk. She looked up, one eyebrow raised sardonically, while Stallings babbled concern.
"Oh!" The man -- more of a boy, really -- looked flustered and appalled at himself. "Ma'am! I beg your pardon!" He reached down one ridiculously large hand to help her up.
Karrin ignored the ramshackle lad's importuning grasp, and rolled easily to her feet. "Watch where you're going, lad."
The youth flushed hotly, the flush providing an unexpected appealing tinge to his starvling cheeks. "I would have, if you weren't too tiny for me to see."
"I say!" Stallings cried, appalled, but Karrin merely laughed. Most people were excruciatingly polite to her face in a way that was just shy of inexcusably rude; a disgraced viscount had that effect on people. This impertinent rascal in his ridiculous coat was refreshing, after a fashion. Stallings, however, was not quelled. "This is the Viscount Antrim you just cheeked, rascal!"
The boy flushed even brighter. "Stars. I'm sorry, m'lady. Though you are pretty short, but I'm still sorry. Oh, hell's bells." And with that bizarre oath, he scurried off down the street in a flurry of black canvas. She watched him run, absently admiring his steady pace -- or perhaps she was admiring the musculature of his lanky calves.
"Impudent fool," said Stallings.
Karrin blinked. That had been a refreshing break from her usual off-duty entertainments: embittered cynicism and cool ennui. She felt... energized. "I've changed my mind, Stallings." She turned away from White's. "I'm going to Gentleman Jackson's."
"Again?" Stallings frowned. "You spend half your waking hours at that blasted aikido saloon."
She shrugged. "And if you spent a few more there yourself, you might not have been knocked down by that cracksman outside Whitehall last month." She smiled at his discomfiture, feeling more energized than she had in days. "Don't wait up for me."
\o/ for Michael and charity!
As a loyal Heyer-ist I do need to point out that the woman was obsessed with making her stories accurate. That being said my only other quibble is that this part was too short and I stand cap in hand saying please can I have so more?
Oh God this was all that I ever wanted and more so perfect! Thank you for sharing this :)
Oh, please, please with a cherry on top :)
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