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I am intrigued by your ideas and would like to prescribe to your newsletter. Because yes please. :convinced John was more than a bit of a dish in those days:
Haha. I imagine he took a long time to grow up (and then grew up hard and fast). Pretty shameless, horny half the time, a giant softie in the places that mattered... a bit of steel determination in the other places that mattered. And kind of a fucking tool like boys who think mainly about sex, sleep, and food are. But you know. Not a bad kid. Loved his folks. And utterly aware of how appealing he could make himself, the shit. And then all-grown-up Mister Marcone becomes kind of a classic example of growing into age and bone structure. Handsome, but without the edges. Most of the time.
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imagine someone doing the lindy hop with harry. now that is really fraught with danger (i mean, i'm not saying harry would be bad at it necessarily, only that when harry's doing the flipping, it's a really damn long way from the ground XD)
My brain jus stuck somewhere between the dancing and Marcone in tight jeans...
Based on the hostage scene in Laurell K Hamilton's Skin Trade.
Harry, along with some friends/allies get caught up when bad guys take over a public area, like a charity fundraiser or something. The heroes are told to perform varios acts to get hostages released. Refusals get civilians hurt. I'm looking for a fuck-or-someone-else-dies. Angst is probably unavoidable but a happy-ish ending would be preferred.
Harry, along with some friends/allies get caught up when bad guys take over a public area, like a charity fundraiser or something. The heroes are told to perform varios acts to get hostages released. Refusals get civilians hurt. I'm looking for a fuck-or-someone-else-dies. Angst is probably unavoidable but a happy-ish ending would be preferred.
Alwaysagirl!Dresden/Marcone. They get hitched. Tell me everything, anons.
Is the world ending? Is it spontaneous or planned? Who marries them -- a priest? a judge in Marcone's pocket? Lea? Does Harry have a ring? Do they argue at the altar/desk/burning crater? Who does the asking? Do they have a honeymoon, or do they just barricade up somewhere in Chicago and fuck for days?
Basically, I want a story about the bits of western christian wedding/marriage tradition that they keep, and the bits that they really, really, really don't.
Is the world ending? Is it spontaneous or planned? Who marries them -- a priest? a judge in Marcone's pocket? Lea? Does Harry have a ring? Do they argue at the altar/desk/burning crater? Who does the asking? Do they have a honeymoon, or do they just barricade up somewhere in Chicago and fuck for days?
Basically, I want a story about the bits of western christian wedding/marriage tradition that they keep, and the bits that they really, really, really don't.
Well the "to obey" part of the vows is right out on both sides
Lol, sorry about that ^^;;; I'm sure there's someone else on the meme who likes coffee!
They are all quite fluffy really <3
They are all quite fluffy really <3
You're no alone, anon. I love coffee, preferably strong and with lots of cream and sugar.
Non-traumatized Harry is a good ol' teddy bear. He's got that innocence and shyness that probably makes Rahm and Marcone go crazy.
Non-traumatized Harry is a good ol' teddy bear. He's got that innocence and shyness that probably makes Rahm and Marcone go crazy.
Re: Fill: We're Just Blowing Through Nap Time, Aren't We (1/2)
(Anonymous) 2011-03-11 01:46 pm (UTC)(link)ROFL this is awesome!
OP Re: Fill: We're Just Blowing Through Nap Time, Aren't We (1/2)
(Anonymous) 2011-03-11 02:23 pm (UTC)(link)lol they're all so adorable. Woobie!Harry is such a darling. And what on earth is John up to? I love how this Hendricks still calls him boss and is as loyal as ever.
Let's try for some more Morgan fic. Morgan/anyone, something that shows him in a more sympathetic light.
Now I kinda wish there was more fic about him from those days. But I seem to have a soft spot for fic that rewinds time or AUs everything so the characters are happier. Maybe 'cause the canon is an angst-fest.
OP says: Oh, anon, this is lovely! I have such a soft spot for stories that are strongly grounded in a sense of place, and I can feel your love for your city coming right through. And Harry's feelings are so real, and I'd never heard of the black angel before, but she's wonderful, and a perfect guardian for a city like that.
(also: you live near the zine library. SO VERY JEALOUS.)
(also: you live near the zine library. SO VERY JEALOUS.)
Thanks! I figured it was in one of the books, and yes, I have read them all, but no, I don't remember everything. So knowing where to look is good!
Hope this works?
Sequel to this: http://scribe-protra.livejournal.com/215580.html?thread=2480668#t2480668
It might have been mentioned, once or twice, that I was known for stupid, suicidal, and mildly reckless actions.
You know. Just once or twice.
I accepted this and went on merrily with my days, doing what I did regardless of the spurious comments and my dog‘s exasperated looks. He was a dog. As long as I survived long enough to feed him and walk him, he shouldn’t complain. Ungrateful mutt.
I might have done things more reckless than usual in the past. I refused to count the T-Rex on that list. That T-Rex was on my top 5 achievement list, if for no other reason than it enhanced my reputation. Even if the reputation was built on the end results and not on the fight to get to that point, it still was enough to keep certain people off my ass.
My most reckless things…well, those weren’t the more public events. Sometimes, they were the things I weren’t really comfortable with or had problems explaining to even myself.
This? This was definitely the latter.
If someone else knew about the situation and stopped gaping and stuttering and chanting anti-hexes long enough to give an opinion, they would probably guess that Marcone would be in the middle of this particular sandwich. Well, it surprised me, too.
Which sandwich? The one on Marcone’s abnormally large bed, the bed massive enough to fit my long body, as well as Marcone on one side of me and Hendricks on the other.
Yeah. That sandwich.
When Marcone stated he was fine with sharing, he meant he was fine with sharing as long as he got a turn. Hendricks fucked slow and steady, like he had all the time in the world. He would trap you with his body and his massive paws and his thick cock and fuck you until you stopped trying to wriggle away, and then he would fuck you some more. Endurance, thy name was Hendricks. Marcone? For all his gentleman facade, he fucked like he was making a claim. You were his, and he would show it with every scratch, every bite, every limping step you took.
It wasn’t a collar, but it was a claim.
It was okay: he let me bite him back.
Hendricks watched, too, looking exasperated and indulgent in turns, while Marcone and I fought and fucked like wildcats on the bed. We both bled by the end, and I was sorry for whoever had to clean the sheets afterward.
Marcone drank my blood, just once. He bit my neck until I bled and just fucking bit and licked at the wound. I asked him about it, and he said he could taste it. He didn’t elaborate on what. I think Hendricks almost batted him on the nose after that. I was sure he lectured him: I just wasn’t sure if there were words involved.
When neither watched? When I settled in the middle then?
You could usually tell by the next four blocks losing power.
But all of that ended here. Hendricks stayed on one side, massive paw covering my bony hip, easy and relaxed and heavy enough to keep me pinned all by its lonesome. Marcone curled up against my back, damned big spoon, and wrapped a possessive arm around my waist. I woke up in the morning just once before him and couldn’t get free. Hendricks watched me. I couldn’t say how long he had been awake. He raised an eyebrow like he was silently asking if I wanted to get up. I settled back down, and so did he.
I limped away more mornings than not, and I slept with two men who could kill me that same day, maybe a little regretful, but still lethal. I still bitched at Marcone and called Hendricks “Cujo” and lit Marcone’s buildings on fire.
But at night I hid away here. I was owned, just Harry, not the Wizard Dresden, fire and temper and lanky limbs. Hendricks pinned me and fucked me deep, everything about him fucking deep, and Marcone held me still with his teeth and fucked me until neither of us could move. Neither used condoms and sometimes Marcone stalled in cleaning, as if to keep his mark there a little longer.
It was stupid and suicidal and reckless to the point where my friends would check me for spells if they knew, but…
I closed my eyes, feeling Hendricks’ hand slowly kneading my hip, Marcone’s callused fingers rubbing my belly.
But it worked perfectly for me.
Sequel to this: http://scribe-protra.livejournal.com/215580.html?thread=2480668#t2480668
It might have been mentioned, once or twice, that I was known for stupid, suicidal, and mildly reckless actions.
You know. Just once or twice.
I accepted this and went on merrily with my days, doing what I did regardless of the spurious comments and my dog‘s exasperated looks. He was a dog. As long as I survived long enough to feed him and walk him, he shouldn’t complain. Ungrateful mutt.
I might have done things more reckless than usual in the past. I refused to count the T-Rex on that list. That T-Rex was on my top 5 achievement list, if for no other reason than it enhanced my reputation. Even if the reputation was built on the end results and not on the fight to get to that point, it still was enough to keep certain people off my ass.
My most reckless things…well, those weren’t the more public events. Sometimes, they were the things I weren’t really comfortable with or had problems explaining to even myself.
This? This was definitely the latter.
If someone else knew about the situation and stopped gaping and stuttering and chanting anti-hexes long enough to give an opinion, they would probably guess that Marcone would be in the middle of this particular sandwich. Well, it surprised me, too.
Which sandwich? The one on Marcone’s abnormally large bed, the bed massive enough to fit my long body, as well as Marcone on one side of me and Hendricks on the other.
Yeah. That sandwich.
When Marcone stated he was fine with sharing, he meant he was fine with sharing as long as he got a turn. Hendricks fucked slow and steady, like he had all the time in the world. He would trap you with his body and his massive paws and his thick cock and fuck you until you stopped trying to wriggle away, and then he would fuck you some more. Endurance, thy name was Hendricks. Marcone? For all his gentleman facade, he fucked like he was making a claim. You were his, and he would show it with every scratch, every bite, every limping step you took.
It wasn’t a collar, but it was a claim.
It was okay: he let me bite him back.
Hendricks watched, too, looking exasperated and indulgent in turns, while Marcone and I fought and fucked like wildcats on the bed. We both bled by the end, and I was sorry for whoever had to clean the sheets afterward.
Marcone drank my blood, just once. He bit my neck until I bled and just fucking bit and licked at the wound. I asked him about it, and he said he could taste it. He didn’t elaborate on what. I think Hendricks almost batted him on the nose after that. I was sure he lectured him: I just wasn’t sure if there were words involved.
When neither watched? When I settled in the middle then?
You could usually tell by the next four blocks losing power.
But all of that ended here. Hendricks stayed on one side, massive paw covering my bony hip, easy and relaxed and heavy enough to keep me pinned all by its lonesome. Marcone curled up against my back, damned big spoon, and wrapped a possessive arm around my waist. I woke up in the morning just once before him and couldn’t get free. Hendricks watched me. I couldn’t say how long he had been awake. He raised an eyebrow like he was silently asking if I wanted to get up. I settled back down, and so did he.
I limped away more mornings than not, and I slept with two men who could kill me that same day, maybe a little regretful, but still lethal. I still bitched at Marcone and called Hendricks “Cujo” and lit Marcone’s buildings on fire.
But at night I hid away here. I was owned, just Harry, not the Wizard Dresden, fire and temper and lanky limbs. Hendricks pinned me and fucked me deep, everything about him fucking deep, and Marcone held me still with his teeth and fucked me until neither of us could move. Neither used condoms and sometimes Marcone stalled in cleaning, as if to keep his mark there a little longer.
It was stupid and suicidal and reckless to the point where my friends would check me for spells if they knew, but…
I closed my eyes, feeling Hendricks’ hand slowly kneading my hip, Marcone’s callused fingers rubbing my belly.
But it worked perfectly for me.
That was so hot, I believe I can feel my brain dripping out of my ears. I love the crazy intensity Marcone's rocking here and the way Hendricks counterbalances it. I also love the idea of Hendricks batting him on the nose :)
The only way this could be better is if it was longer. Thank you, excellent writernon!
The only way this could be better is if it was longer. Thank you, excellent writernon!
Oh, hot damn.
Loved this bit: Hendricks pinned me and fucked me deep, everything about him fucking deep
Loved this bit: Hendricks pinned me and fucked me deep, everything about him fucking deep
I had a dream last night it was marcone/hendricks, with marcone worshiping hendricks ass at his desk. And when marcone is finished playing he puts a butt plug in hendricks before zipping him up.
Re: Fill: We're Just Blowing Through Nap Time, Aren't We (1/2)
(Anonymous) 2011-03-11 06:19 pm (UTC)(link)OMG AMAZING
JFC. Jesus fucking Christ. Jesus Fucking Christ. What are you doing to me Anon?
*DIES*
Held. Me. Still. With. His. Teeth.
Held me still with his teeth.
HELD ME STILL WITH. HIS. TEETH.
WITH. HIS. TEETH.
..
...
CHRIST.
(Dear Santa. Please, please, please let Marcone keep on being his psycho self forever and ever please. Thank you.)
"He bit my neck until I bled and just fucking bit and licked at the wound"
*DIES*
"..Marcone held me still with his teeth"
Held. Me. Still. With. His. Teeth.
Held me still with his teeth.
HELD ME STILL WITH. HIS. TEETH.
WITH. HIS. TEETH.
..
...
CHRIST.
(Dear Santa. Please, please, please let Marcone keep on being his psycho self forever and ever please. Thank you.)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crazy_Harry
See "References in Other Media."
See "References in Other Media."
This is so excellent.
"What about Thomas?"
"I can't get ahold of him. The cell number Harry had has been disconnected and he hasn't been into his shop for a month, according to the receptionist. He's 'taking a sabbatical'."
"Damn."
"I hate to mention it, Ms. Murphy, but we probably don't want to call Thomas for help anyway. He's...he got torn up pretty bad by that thing. He wasn't acting...normally. He was dangerous." Molly set the last glass of orange juice out on the table. The younger kids were all upstairs getting washed up and dressed for school. Harry was up there with them, with Charity supervising.
"Karrin, I told you. And okay. Okay. I hate to even bring it up, but we might need to contact the Council. Can you do that? Do you have a contact number or something?" Murphy flipped the pancake in the skillet.
"Uh. Well, yeah. I mean, Harry does, so we could go back to his place and get it. But." She flushed and looked down at the table. "Harry took responsibility for me, Karrin. If we call the Council in, and they find out Harry's not responsible any more..." She trailed off, but Murphy could finish the sentence. From what Harry had told her, he and Molly had just managed to dodge a death sentence with the whole Morgan affair. There were too many people on the Council that couldn't be trusted. The very least they might do would be to sweep in and take Harry and Molly away. More likely they'd take Harry away and execute Molly. Hell, they might execute Harry just for the hell of it.
"It's okay. But we need some help here. It's been three days already and he's not changing back. Cowl hasn't been back either, but I don't expect that to last. He's got to be out there getting something else together."
"Maybe Harry's wards killed him?"
"No body." Murphy waved the spatula through the air. "Maybe Harry's wards disintegrated him, but we're not usually that lucky. Better to assume that he's alive and coming back." She slid the last pancake onto the stack and handed the platter to Molly. "We need help. We need someone who knows more about magic than we do."
A small flood of children hit the dinning room and everything descended into organized chaos. Once everyone was fed, they all trooped out to the van for school drop offs. Molly washed up while Harry and Murphy took Mouse out into the back yard.
"You remember what we talked about this morning?"
Harry sighed and rolled his eyes at her.
"Yes. You've got to go to work and Michael's at work too. So it's just me and Molly and Charity and Mouse. So I have to stay inside." He kicked at a clod of grass and dirt. "Why can't I go to school? I'm really good at math."
"I'm sure. But we're having some trouble getting you enrolled at the new school. As soon as we get it straightened out we'll have you going to class, okay?" She ruffled his hair and smiled as he ducked his head out from under her hand. "I know it sucks, and I'm sorry. But you'll have fun with Molly and I've got some other people coming over too."
"Who?"
"Some kids about Molly's age." Ish. If you rounded up a lot. "You'll like Billy."
~
"How'd it go?" Murphy ran her hands through her hair, shaking it out from being squashed by her motorcycle helmet.
"Fine. They're in the back." Charity grabbed the helmet up from the end table Murphy had dropped it on and put it up in the closet.
"I thought we agreed he was going to stay inside." Irritation flowed through her words and Murphy stepped past the taller woman.
"They needed the space. And Molly's out there with Mouse. Just go see." Charity disappeared into the kitchen.
Mouse and Molly were sitting right outside the back door on the steps of the porch. Molly glanced up as Murphy came out the door and then grinned.
"He's quick." Molly pointed out into the yard where three huge dogs were chasing each other through the leaves. As Murphy watched she recognized Billy and Georgia's wolf forms, easily as long and tall as Mouse but leaner, sleek with muscle, rather than bulky. The different between a runner and a weightlifter in looks, maybe. The third wolf was smaller, his paws had the outsized in comparison to his body look of an adolescent and his fur was thick and dark brown, nearly black.
"They taught him how to turn into a wolf?" Murphy felt like smacking herself in the head. Or maybe Billy. They were supposed to be extra security. Not cause more trouble.
"He knew there was something different about them." Molly shrugged. "Harry pestered them until Billy told him and then he convinced them to show him how they did it. He's a little con-man, Ms.- Karrin. He picked the trick up right away and they've been playing out here ever since."
A few seconds passed and then Billy the wolf caught sight of Murphy on the back porch. He turned to Georgia, barked something at her at ducked behind the addition. When he came back out he was human shaped and wearing a loose pair of sweats.
"I need to talk to you."
"Come on." They circled around to the side of the house, out of sight and out of hearing range.
"Harry doesn't smell right."
"What?"
"People smell like themselves, all the time. Yeah, you can try to hide it under different scents, but people still have a fundamental, individual them-smell that doesn't go away. It's how we can track people. And Harry doesn't smell like Harry."
"Are you saying that's not Harry?"
"No. I don't think it's a changeling or something. I mean, the kid still smells basically like Harry. But there's something else there. Some other scent that's all tangled up in his. Maybe it's the spell that did this but it's...it doesn't smell like a spell. It smells like something alive."
"I can't get ahold of him. The cell number Harry had has been disconnected and he hasn't been into his shop for a month, according to the receptionist. He's 'taking a sabbatical'."
"Damn."
"I hate to mention it, Ms. Murphy, but we probably don't want to call Thomas for help anyway. He's...he got torn up pretty bad by that thing. He wasn't acting...normally. He was dangerous." Molly set the last glass of orange juice out on the table. The younger kids were all upstairs getting washed up and dressed for school. Harry was up there with them, with Charity supervising.
"Karrin, I told you. And okay. Okay. I hate to even bring it up, but we might need to contact the Council. Can you do that? Do you have a contact number or something?" Murphy flipped the pancake in the skillet.
"Uh. Well, yeah. I mean, Harry does, so we could go back to his place and get it. But." She flushed and looked down at the table. "Harry took responsibility for me, Karrin. If we call the Council in, and they find out Harry's not responsible any more..." She trailed off, but Murphy could finish the sentence. From what Harry had told her, he and Molly had just managed to dodge a death sentence with the whole Morgan affair. There were too many people on the Council that couldn't be trusted. The very least they might do would be to sweep in and take Harry and Molly away. More likely they'd take Harry away and execute Molly. Hell, they might execute Harry just for the hell of it.
"It's okay. But we need some help here. It's been three days already and he's not changing back. Cowl hasn't been back either, but I don't expect that to last. He's got to be out there getting something else together."
"Maybe Harry's wards killed him?"
"No body." Murphy waved the spatula through the air. "Maybe Harry's wards disintegrated him, but we're not usually that lucky. Better to assume that he's alive and coming back." She slid the last pancake onto the stack and handed the platter to Molly. "We need help. We need someone who knows more about magic than we do."
A small flood of children hit the dinning room and everything descended into organized chaos. Once everyone was fed, they all trooped out to the van for school drop offs. Molly washed up while Harry and Murphy took Mouse out into the back yard.
"You remember what we talked about this morning?"
Harry sighed and rolled his eyes at her.
"Yes. You've got to go to work and Michael's at work too. So it's just me and Molly and Charity and Mouse. So I have to stay inside." He kicked at a clod of grass and dirt. "Why can't I go to school? I'm really good at math."
"I'm sure. But we're having some trouble getting you enrolled at the new school. As soon as we get it straightened out we'll have you going to class, okay?" She ruffled his hair and smiled as he ducked his head out from under her hand. "I know it sucks, and I'm sorry. But you'll have fun with Molly and I've got some other people coming over too."
"Who?"
"Some kids about Molly's age." Ish. If you rounded up a lot. "You'll like Billy."
~
"How'd it go?" Murphy ran her hands through her hair, shaking it out from being squashed by her motorcycle helmet.
"Fine. They're in the back." Charity grabbed the helmet up from the end table Murphy had dropped it on and put it up in the closet.
"I thought we agreed he was going to stay inside." Irritation flowed through her words and Murphy stepped past the taller woman.
"They needed the space. And Molly's out there with Mouse. Just go see." Charity disappeared into the kitchen.
Mouse and Molly were sitting right outside the back door on the steps of the porch. Molly glanced up as Murphy came out the door and then grinned.
"He's quick." Molly pointed out into the yard where three huge dogs were chasing each other through the leaves. As Murphy watched she recognized Billy and Georgia's wolf forms, easily as long and tall as Mouse but leaner, sleek with muscle, rather than bulky. The different between a runner and a weightlifter in looks, maybe. The third wolf was smaller, his paws had the outsized in comparison to his body look of an adolescent and his fur was thick and dark brown, nearly black.
"They taught him how to turn into a wolf?" Murphy felt like smacking herself in the head. Or maybe Billy. They were supposed to be extra security. Not cause more trouble.
"He knew there was something different about them." Molly shrugged. "Harry pestered them until Billy told him and then he convinced them to show him how they did it. He's a little con-man, Ms.- Karrin. He picked the trick up right away and they've been playing out here ever since."
A few seconds passed and then Billy the wolf caught sight of Murphy on the back porch. He turned to Georgia, barked something at her at ducked behind the addition. When he came back out he was human shaped and wearing a loose pair of sweats.
"I need to talk to you."
"Come on." They circled around to the side of the house, out of sight and out of hearing range.
"Harry doesn't smell right."
"What?"
"People smell like themselves, all the time. Yeah, you can try to hide it under different scents, but people still have a fundamental, individual them-smell that doesn't go away. It's how we can track people. And Harry doesn't smell like Harry."
"Are you saying that's not Harry?"
"No. I don't think it's a changeling or something. I mean, the kid still smells basically like Harry. But there's something else there. Some other scent that's all tangled up in his. Maybe it's the spell that did this but it's...it doesn't smell like a spell. It smells like something alive."
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