Round 2 is closed.

[scribe_protra]

The meme is being moved over to here http://dresden-kink.dreamwidth.org/

This round is now closed.

Comments

Re: Fill: Home Remedy 1/1

[(Anonymous)]

I loved every word of this! You did such an amazing job of intimating without ever stating outright, and I loved where you chose to end each section, especially the last two.

Re: Fill: Home Remedy 1/1

[(Anonymous)]

Holy crap. I love you anon.

Re: Fill: Home Remedy 1/1

[luciazephyr]

Holy crap that was intense. Intense and dark and amazing. I can see Harry really doing this to help John's cold at first, then continuing because.... he's a wizard. He loves someone and knows that without something like this, he'll outlive them. It's... Yeah. :gestures:


The porny bit of my brain is imagining the next time they have rough sex and Harry bites his lip, John will lick away the blood, a silent "I know" thing. JSYK.

Re: Fill (3/...motherfuck...4?)

[(Anonymous)]

Guh. You killed my brain.

[(Anonymous)]

Didn't someone write a Harry/omc? or the start of one? I can't seem to find it.

Re: Fill: Home Remedy 1/1

[harpijka]

Such a short story, so intense a meaning: great, great writing. To the last drop.

Re: Fill: Home Remedy 1/1

[ventureforth]

I love this whole thing, with its slightly-creepy-mostly-sweet tone. But my favorite bit is actually this:

Conveniently, it was just high enough that a man of my height could see down into the lab when standing on it

OH MARCONE. YOU ARE SO SWEET STALKERY.

Re: Blood Rites Prompt - CORRECTION - DEAD BEAT

[(Anonymous)]

Oh god. I love you and will bake you brownies for coming up with that. Brownie sundays for whoever writes it.

Re: Fill: Home Remedy 1/1

[(Anonymous)]

I was really wary of this prompt, because I'm usually very uncomfortable around bloodplay. But the way this fill ended, from the stalkery lab to the penultimate paragraph's sensuality, was really...er. Possibly I'll be in my bunk.

Re: pornstar names

[(Anonymous)]

Rod Magus.

Wizard Cotillion, 2/?

[(Anonymous)]

Mr. Harry Dresden was ashamed of himself.

To be sure, overwhelmed with embarrassment and self-loathing was somewhat of a refreshing change from overwhelmed with hunger and cold. The hunger and cold were still there, but were hardly his most pressing concern. What kind of barbarian was he? He'd just barreled into that tiny gentlewoman without looking -- and then hadn't properly apologized until he realized she had rank. To cap it all off, he'd been rude again. It was as if he were combining the worst bumpkin behavior that people expected of a country boy with the gauche classism of London herself. Ebenezar would be ashamed of him.

Of course, Ebenezar was already ashamed of him. After two years of grooming Harry to make his debut in wizard society, off the apprentice had run to London to make his fortune, like a magical Dick Whittington with far less chance of success. At least, like Dick Whittington, Harry had a cat -- though it seemed unlikely that the folkloric Lord Mayor of London had ever been quite this cold or quite this hungry. At this very moment, Harry could happily eat a pork pie or five, after which he'd be just about ready for luncheon.

Hunger was no excuse for rudeness to anyone, commoner or lady. Nonetheless, he needed to earn some scratch, fast -- not only was hunger making him behave poorly, but any day now Mistress Spunkelcrief would evict him from the boarding house. He could starve with a roof over his head or without, but it would be far more comfortable to die of hunger without the added complaints of mud, cold, and fighting for space amongst the previous occupants of London's alleyways.

He'd never imagined how difficult it would be to convince the ton to engage his services. It wasn’t as if The London Gazette was overwhelmed with wizards advertising their services at reasonable rates. But Harry was a single young man, unprotected by an older sister or a blustering uncle. He wasn’t in the clergy or a veteran of the army. As far as the ton were concerened, Harry was no better than he should be. A wizard was only one step above "actor”, even among believers. For the rest, he was a disreputable mountebank.

Harry realized he was standing outside Poole’s tailor and draper shop. In his confusion, he'd come to Cork Street again, as he had every day for the last week. He sighed, looking up to gaze upon the object of his desire: the triple-caped leather greatcoat in the shop window. It didn't hurt to dream, he supposed, though he would never be able to purchase such a thing. Every scant penny Harry scraped up went into buying magical supplies: pawned copper jewelry, spent gunpowder, a battered copy of Venus in the Cloister or The Nun in her Smock to bribe his lab assistant. At least holy water was free, for all that it didn't help his reputation among the ton to be on such close terms with Father Forthill, the Catholic priest.

"La, Mr. Dresden," said a voice at his shoulder, and Harry spun around, supplies and sartorial woes both forgotten. A wealthy dandy stood behind him, handsome in a way Harry had never seen before. The young man wore his dark hair à la Brutus, highlighting his luminous features. His pure white waistcoat was covered in equally white seals and fobs. Harry cared not a whit for fashion, and he had a vague idea that a gentleman with unpowdered hair should be wearing a dark coat, not – Stars -- untouched white from cravat to boots. But instead of seeming a town clown, the gentleman was stunning, drawing dreamy sighs from no small number of the passersby. The young woman on the dandy’s arm would have been the highlight of gorgeousness among other company; here, she was merely accompaniment.

Vampire, Harry thought. Thank goodness Ebenezar had given him a basic introduction to the supernatural elements of London's upper crust.

"I beg your forbearance, but I must introduce myself," said the White Court vampire. He bowed from the waist. "Thomas Raith, at your service."

Harry was shocked. "Lord Raith is a vampire?"

The vampire laughed. "The stories do you justice, sir. Your blunt nature is refreshing."

"What do you want?" Harry had no desire for truck with vampires, though he had to admit a prurient curiosity about the methods used by the Whites in particular. He assumed he was strong enough to resist their blandishments.

"I want to be your friend," said the vampire. "If you'll allow me."

Harry pulled back. This temptation he had not been expecting. "I'm no friend of the White Court."

The vampire's face twisted as if he had bitten something sour; Harry noted that the expression in the way marred his beauty. "Neither am I, particularly." The young woman on Raith's arm leaned her cheek against the vampire's shoulder, a sad smile on her face.

"So what do you want?"

"Later, perhaps your assistance with a minor problem," said the vampire, and Harry breathed out, relieved. A job he could assess on its merits; inexplicable friendship from a White Court vampire was certainly a hostile overture. "But for now, would you care to join me for a beefsteak at MacAnally's Pub?" He held up his hand as Harry opened his mouth to protest. "A nuncheon as retainer for your willingness to listen, shall we call it?"

Harry hesitated. A business arrangement with this strange vampire who sought him out and claimed to be on the outs with the Court was arguably not business with which he should become involved. But his mouth had begun watering automatically at the mention of one of Mac's luscious beefsteaks, and, well, besides. If there was something political going on in the supernatural community, wouldn't it be best if he knew about it? You keep rationalizing, there, he told himself. Nothing to do with the uncomfortable feeling of your belly meeting your spine from emptiness. "All right," he said. "Just a conversation."

The vampire smiled.

Re: Wizard Cotillion, 2/?

[(Anonymous)]

squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!

AU Harry/Michael, 3/?

[(Anonymous)]

By the time I realized it was a dream- that I'd done this before, that this wasn't how it had gone- it was too late. The spell I'd used to bind Kravos's magic had rebounded back onto me. I frantically grasped at the substance of the dream, willing it to change- but it slipped past my control, twisting into out of my grasp as I watched the demon kill my friends and allies, one by one. The demon stalked towards me, huge and menacing. It grabbed me, lifted me into the air, as I struggled to impose my will on this false yet terrifyingly vivid reality.

The demon sank it's teeth into my belly, and I screamed. It wasn't the pain of flesh tearing, of my guts being torn out. It was a deeper, worse pain, leaving me feeling strangely hollow, like he was eating my very essence.

"This isn't real," I said. "This is just a dream."

"Little wizard, whoever told you that dreams aren't real?" The demon licked my blood off it's grotesque lips and bent it's head towards me again.

"Harry!" a voice- a familiar voice- said. I frowned. Michael- I had seen the demon kill him. I looked- yes, his body still lay limp, on the ground.

The demon had heard him too. He snarled, and dropped me from his grasp. I fell.

And I found myself on the floor of my bedroom. A terrible wrongness flickered over my skin in horrible cold waves. I shuddered in pain and terror as the thing tore away from me. All my instincts told me to run, but when I tried to stand the floor lurched under my feet, and I fell to me hands and knees again.

There was a horrible shrieking noise, and a yell- Michael? And then there was someone there with me- arms around me, safe, comforting. "Michael," I croaked. My head ached, and my throat burned. The gentle pleasure of the vampire venom was gone, but the fuzzyness remained and every sense, every touch and smell and sound, was magnified. The jumble was overwhelming.

"Harry," he said. "Thank the Lord. Are you alright?" His voice seemed to come from miles away and inside my ear, painful and reassuring. I placed one of the smells- vomit, which seemed to be related in some way to the burning in my throat. There was a roiling sickness in my stomach, and a hollow ache below that, where the demon had torn at me. I looked down at my soiled but intact shirt.

"Harry," Michael said again, and the reassuring bulk at my back went away. I gave an undignified whimper in protest, and then Michael's face came into view in front of me. He peered at me, looking concerned. I wondered, absently, why I'd never noticed the thin ring of blue around the edges of his deep brown eyes.

Right. He'd asked me a question. I blinked blearily at him, trying to clear the fog from my head. "I don't..." There was something, something important I had to tell him. I couldn't remember what it was. Something had happened. I needed to do something about it.

"Lab," I said. "I need..." Bob. I needed Bob. Bob could tell me what to do.

My head spun when he helped me to my feet, and my vision started going black around the edges. The world twisted and shifted horribly, and I clung to him like an anchor. I think I was sick again, at some point. Somehow, he maneuvered the two of us down the stepladder into the lab. It was dark, the only light coming from the lamps upstairs. He managed to steer me into the barely-visible circle built into the floor, and I reached out with my will to close it. It was an exhausting effort, like lifting a hundred-pound box after running a marathon, but the circle closed with a satisfying snap, and I relaxed into Michael's arms. Then I relaxed even further, all the way down to the floor. I leaned appreciatively against Michael's leg.

"Boss?" I heard Bob say.

Michael jerked a moment in surprise- he hadn't ever actually seen me talk to Bob before. "Harry?" he said quietly. "Is that..."

"Hey, Bob," I said wearily. "This is Michael. Michael, Bob."

"Charmed," Bob said absently. "You look awful, Harry. What happened?"

"Vampires," I said. I closed my eyes, fighting the venom hangover. "Drooled on me. Right in my mouth."

"Eeeeuuugh," Bob said.

"Did they bite you?" Michael asked quietly, kneeling down to support my precarious sitting position.

I considered. It was difficult to think, but I dredged up the memories of the fight. Struggling. One of them held me down, spat on my face, and then... I remembered the vampire's screams as a wall crumbled away and let the sunlight in. That's when I'd gotten away. "No," I said finally. "I don't think so."

"Even if they had," Bob said, "that wouldn't be enough to turn him. Believe me, if he was infected, we'd know it. But just vampires- Harry, your aura's showing all sorts of nasty damage. Vampires shouldn't have done that- not Red Court vampires, anyway. They were Red Court? The ones that drooled on you?"

I frowned. "Bianca's. Met 'em a few days ago. So yes."

"The ones that delivered that invitation?" Michael asked.

"Yeah," I said. Kyle and Kelly, their names were. They'd shown up on my doorstep a few days prior, delivering an invitation to attend a party celebrating the elevation of Bianca, the local vampire madam, to some sort of vampire aristocracy. I had, of course, refused. "They have Lydia," I added, since she had in fact been how I'd gotten into the whole mess. She'd been a prisoner, drugged and bound in the back of a windowless van. And I'd been an idiot and gotten myself ambushed before I could save her.

"Lord protect her," Michael said.

"I was thinking we could protect her," I said. "I mean, once I can stand up without falling over again."

"Speaking of," Bob said, "I heard you screaming an awful racket just now. I'm sorry I couldn't get to you."

I shook my head, once, which caused a herd of elephants to tromp through my head. It wouldn't have been so bad if they hadn't been on fire. "Just a nightmare," I said. "Nasty one, too. Side effect of vamp spit?" I leaned my head back against Michael's chest, which seemed to help a bit with the flaming elephant problem.

"I don't think it was just a nightmare, Harry," Michael said. "I saw something, when you woke up. I think it tried to attack me, but left when I went for Amorrachius."

"By something, you mean..." Bob prompted.

"A ghost, perhaps? No solid form. It seemed to leave Harry's body as he woke."

A cold feeling came over me. "That... that shouldn't... How did it get past my wards?" I blinked. "Wait, Michael, how did you get past my wards? Not that I'm not grateful..."

"You left your door unlocked," Michael said. "I don't know about your wards. I didn't notice anything."

I winced. I barely remembered coming in, but it was completely plausible I hadn't had the spare thought to lock up behind me. Stars, what if it hadn't been Michael who came to the door?

"Harry's wards are rather lacking when it comes to keeping humans out," Bob said. "And since you're here on his invitation, the threshold wouldn't be backing them up. Though- when did you come in? Before or after whatever attacked Harry came in?"

"Just a few minutes ago," Michael said. "He was already screaming when I got in."

"So, whether you accidentally broke the wards or not- Harry, you should check on that once you're recovered a bit- that means that this thing, this Nightmare, got in while they were intact. Just like it got over Malone's threshold." Bob and I had discussed this earlier, I remembered- though he sounded less, well, terrified of the prospect now. Now he sounded almost excited, like he had solved some puzzle.

"You've got a theory?" I asked.

"Yes," Bob said, sounding very satisfied, "as a matter of fact, I do."

It was, as it turned out, a good theory. It explained a lot of things. He thought that the Nightmare, whatever it was, was attacking people in their dreams. Sufficient intense dreams apparently poke out as little bubbles into the Nevernever, giving this monster it's way in without even encountering a threshold. We discussed the possibilities a bit, as my brain began to untangle itself from the mess it was in. This was an unpleasant and difficult process, and it made rational thought somewhat slow and sloppy, but I managed eventually. I told them about the dream, about how it had deviated from the real fight with Kravos and his pet demon.

And then it hit me. "Stars and stones," I said. "Malone was at the fight against Kravos. This thing attacked him, and then me. What if it wasn't just taking an advantage of a nightmare I was already having? What if this Nightmare, this ghost, is the ghost of that demon we took down?"

Michael got it. "Going after the people responsible for it's death. Which means..."

I gulped. "Which means, we've got to warn Murphy."

*********
(Authornon here... sorry I took so freaking long to write this part! I am still not quite happy with it, but it will do, I guess. I expect the next couple parts to take awhile as well, after that it should go more smoothly? I hope? Especially since every time I got stuck on this part I skipped ahead and wrote later bits?)

Re: My Little Angel 1/?

[(Anonymous)]

"Just like your father.I swear to god."
Fantastic. Marcone doesn't even get to win against his little girl. Please write more? Pleasepleasepleaseplease? With powdered sugar and chocolate chips on top?

Re: Wizard Cotillion, 2/?

[(Anonymous)]

UNF! That is all. Heyer-ite anon loves this. Makes me think of the stories from Pistols For Two if you don't mind the comparison.

Re: Marcone/female!Dresden

[(Anonymous)]

...Yes. God, yes.

...That wasn't the shortest fic in history, by the by.

Dresden/Bob/Marcone

[(Anonymous)]

Bob takes control of an only sort-of unwilling Marcone's body so he/they can molest their favorite wizard.

In which Thomas gets fired again. 1/1

[(Anonymous)]

Thomas was trying really, really hard not to get fired this time.

The first time, it hadn't been his fault. Well, okay, it had, but it had been a long time since he'd gone so long without feeding. It's not like he had actually instigated anything, not consciously at least. But when the girl who was supposed to be training him to use the register had tackled him and started dry-humping him right there behind the counter- well, he hadn't really been in the mood to resist.

He hadn't yet beat that record for shortest time on the job- less than an hour- but it wasn't the last time he'd lasted less than a day on a job. Usually he lasted at least a few days, but no more than that. Harry was trying to teach him to dial down the come-hither vibe, and it helped to go out and pick up one-night-stands- feeding from someone just once left them in no worse shape than a night of hard partying, so he didn't feel too guilty about stealing the lifeforce of unsuspecting strangers- but there was only so much he could do. He'd gone through at least a dozen jobs in less than six months, so far. Every no-skill, low-pay, humiliating job he could get, he tried. He did marginally better at the ones where he wasn't talking to customers all day. Sure, he got great tips waiting tables, but sooner or later his control would slip and poor glassy-eyed diner would try to ravish him or something. It never ended well. And his unrefined techniques for suppressing his supernatural sex appeal also left him a little standoffish. Good customer service without the aid of flirting was apparently beyond him.

But he was optimistic. His last job, packing orders for a mom-and-pop mail-order business, had lasted a whole month- right up until mom caught pop hitting on their new hire. And even that hadn't been a total loss- by some miracle he'd gotten a good reference out of it. He wasn't sure whether her motive was good will and understanding, embarrassment, or avoidance of a sexual harassment lawsuit, but for whatever reason, she was telling any employers who called her that Thomas was an exemplary worker who was unfortunately allergic to the products her company sold.

So. He was getting better at this. Maybe this time he'd actually hold onto the job. This job that actually paid more than minimum wage and didn't involve talking to the unpredictable public. Mostly male co-workers, too. He was well aware that was no guarantee of anything, but still. Statistically speaking, most of them were probably straight. And while a little thing like orientation was easily overcome if actually wanted to seduce somebody, it did considerably lower the odds of him doing it by accident.

The day it all went wrong started out pretty normal. He got to work at 8 pm. He unloaded large, heavy packages from the trucks. Other men sorted the packages. Sometimes, Thomas loaded the sorted packages onto other trucks, but this was not one of those days. It was boring and tedious, but it was better than a lot of other jobs he'd tried. And he was good at the work- this was a job where being able to lift a couple hundred pounds without breaking a sweat actually came in handy on a regular basis.

Things began to go wrong during his first break. Normally, he spent his breaks meditating. He felt a little self-conscious about it, but Harry was right- it really helped his self-control. Today, though, the quiet broom closet he usually used was locked. He tried meditating in the break room, but since his co-workers apparently were unfamiliar with the concept of "leaving someone alone," this was not very helpful.

The upshot of this was that by the time midnight rolled around, he was already having trouble keeping himself under control. He was pretty sure that that one guy, Jake, had been checking him out. Well, not that Jake hadn't been covertly checking him out from time to time ever since Thomas had gotten hired. But it had gotten a lot more frequent and a lot less covert.

It would have helped if Jake wasn't so damned cute, all blustery machismo covering his boyish sweetness, with tousled golden brown hair that always made him look like he'd just been utterly ravished, and lips that- Thomas clamped down hard on this train of thought. It was going bad places. He was not going to fuck up this job- no pun intended. He was going to keep this job, because it was actually a damn good job under the circumstances. He was not going to pull Jake into the supply closet and slide his hands under Jake's regulation brown shirt, skimming up smooth skin to...

Thomas swore under his breath.

Then he looked up, and thought, that pallet doesn't look very stable, the way they've stacked it.

And then instinct took over and he was underneath the pallet, which as he thought, wasn't very stable. In fact, if he hadn't positioned himself to take it's weight- which was probably less than a ton, but he wasn't sure about that- then it would probably have continued the slide it had just started, which would have caused- well. It might only have done several thousand dollars of property damage without seriously injuring anyone, but he wouldn't lay odds on it.

It looked like his co-workers had come to the same conclusion. They stared with the sick fascination of disaster averted. Also the sick fascination of watching a single man hold nearly a thousand pounds.

"A little help here?" Thomas asked.

With the help of another dozen or so men, they got the pallet safely to the ground to be dealt with. Thomas staggered off in shock. A hundred, even two hundred pounds, that was just being in absurdly good shape (without trying, mind, but still.) What he had pulled there, though, was seriously sapping his mojo. Hell, he'd cracked a rib back there, though it was already knitting together again. The urge to feed was nearly overwhelming. He had to get out of there.

"Hey, man, you ok?" Jake said.

Shit.

"Yeah," Thomas lied. "Yeah, I'm fine. Maybe I should sit down a bit."

"Dude, that was amazing," Jake said. Thomas could smell the lust pouring off him in waves. Thomas tried desperately to rein in his hunger, to stop encouraging the kid with supernatural pheromones. Even if he could get away with sex at the workplace, there was no way he could have mindblowing sex with a co-worked and then continue on like nothing had happened. And he wasn't going to take another lover again. Ever. Not after Justine. "Hey," Jake was saying, "let's sit down over there." His hand landed on Thomas's arm with a little electric jolt.

"Jake," Thomas said, fighting to stay coherent, and not get lost in the other man's lust. He was starting to reach out and take already. "That's a really bad idea."

"Hey, look," Jake said, still holding Thomas's arm. "You saved my life, man." His voice grew husky. "Maybe we should find somewhere more private? So I can thank you properly?"

Empty night.

"Where?" Thomas asked, barely able to form the word, he was fighting so hard not to throw Jake down onto the floor where they stood and fuck him in front of everybody.

"There's an empty truck. Not due to be loaded again until next shift."

"Great. Let's go," Thomas said, because if he was going to give in to his demon, he could at least avoid utterly humiliating himself in the process.

It couldn't have taken more than a few minutes to find the truck in question, but it felt like hours, hours of fighting not to utterly abandon his principles, his good sense, his dignity, everything. Finally, they clambered into the dark hold together. The moment they got out of sight of a causal passerby, Jake was on him, kissing him, pressing against him, throwing himself at him.

"I've wanted this every since I set eyes on you," Jake whispered into Thomas's ear as his hand snaked into Thomas's pants. "Every day, I looked at you and thought about doing this." He pressed his erection against Thomas's leg. "This is what you do to me, every day."

Each word went straight to that part of Thomas, the part he hated, the part that reached out and took whether he wanted to or not, but empty night it felt good. He felt that trickle of life force running out of Jake and into himself, his drug, his addiction. He felt it washing over all the places where he was tired and hurt as Jake undid their pants, pushed them down around knees, wrapped a hand around both their erections.

Jake jerked them off together quickly, desperately. They kissed, Thomas drinking Jake in, drinking his lust and his energy and his life and his soul, barely even beginning to sate his own hunger. He grabbed Jake's ass, squeezing those firm cheeks, and Jake bucked and moaned into his mouth, and then Jake was coming, coming in spurts of semen and spirit, giving himself to Thomas to take and use, and Thomas let himself climax as well, the physical orgasming barely registering against the ecstasy of riding someone else's.

He wasn't full. Not by a long shot. But he wasn't ravenous, he wasn't insensate, he was in control again. He detached himself from Jake, physically and metaphysically, and brought himself back to sanity.

Which is when he noticed Jerry the supervisor staring at them.

Oh well.

At least, Thomas thought later as he cleared out his locker, he had tried.

Re: AU Harry/Michael, 3/?

[(Anonymous)]

OP here, still love it! Chock full of gooey plot goodness! Mmm.

Re: In which Thomas gets fired again. 1/1

[luciazephyr]

... Oh Thomas. :sadfaces: I really wanna hug him after this, but that'd likely be counterproductive, wouldn't it?

Fill: The <insert title here> of <insert place here> 1/?

[cathrinerose]

I have no restraint left when it comes to kink meme, that is the only explanation for this. God help me, I actually did RESEARCH for this one. Also writing this story is like riding a bull, every time I figure out where it's going it heads off in a different direction.

**

It was just a cheap motel room, with no more furnishing than a bed, and a fan turning gently in the humid summer air. The lights of the traffic going past threw shifting shadows on the two men on the bed. They kissed lazily in a post-coital tangle until the older man pulled away.

He was a fraction shorter than his companion, with a stockier build and his dark hair was in a buzz cut. He ran his hand through his lover's hair. “I have to go,” he sighed.

The other man smiled sadly “Last time though, right?”

“Last time,” the first man promised.

He washed in the bathroom while the other lay on the bed and watched him through the open door.

“Harry? Can you hand me my travel kit?” the man in the bathroom called. The younger man groaned as he rolled off the bed and padded over to the duffel bags on the floor. He rooted through on and pulled out the needed case. He paused as he saw what lay under the case.

“Mark, what is this?” he asked, holding up the box.

The other man winced when he saw it. “You weren't supposed to see that yet.”

“Mark?”

“I know it's only been six months but I'm never going to feel this way about anyone else.” His lover opened the box to find a pair of rings. “I wasn't going to ask you until I got home. I... Anything could happen and I don't want you to put your life on hold. Don't answer me until I get home, but since you found them you can hold onto one for me until I get back. If you want to...”

Harry's answer was to kiss him; hard, fast and passionately. “I'm not saying anything now.” The other man said smiling down at him. “But as soon as you ask me, I'm saying yes.”

They kissed some more, no longer lazy but trying to fit as many as they could into the time left. At the door Harry held his lover and whispered fiercely in his ear. “Come back to me. On time or late, whole or broken, only come back.” The last kiss was fierce, a fight and a benediction, a promise and a pledge. Harry watched Mark until he was out of sight.


******


A few nights later, Captain Mark Jones sat in the commissary of Fort Leonard Wood MO, with his friend Jim Harding, smiling at the ring tangled in the chain of his dog-tags.

“You still planning on leaving?” Harding asked

“Yeah. He's the one, I know it Jim, and it's just not worth being away from him. I'm not cut out for this life anyway. Unlike some people, I'm not an adjunct to the colonel at the age of 23” Mark slapped Jim on the shoulder and strolled out of the commissary.

There was a snort behind Harding. He turned to see his boss Colonel Vargassi looking past him at Mark. “What is this army coming to? Drunks like Mendoza,” he nodded at the Private who was drinking himself into a coma in a corner “and fags like Jones everywhere. I wish we could just get rid off them all.”

“Jones is leaving soon. It will all be over soon.”

“It had better be.”

Labyrinth fusion!

[(Anonymous)]

Harry Dresden did not enjoy living with his brother. Thomas was a terrible roommate at times. So what if Harry, in a fit of anger, accidentally wished Thomas away to the Goblin King's kingdom and has to go rescue him?

Recast the Dresdenverse cast into Labyrinth. Harry is obviously Sarah. Who is the Goblin King? Marcone? Kincaid, the epic troll of the Dresdenverse? Someone else entirely?

Anon does not care about particulars, just wants from hilarious cracky fun.

Re: Labyrinth fusion!

[(Anonymous)]

Who is the Goblin King?

Er, that would be the Erlking. Technically.




But don't let that spoil your fun ;)
(I actually was going to suggest Lea, straight off, since she seems to fit more thematically.

But hey, Changes, chapter 35, Erlking is refered to as "Lord of the Goblins of Faerie" and who am I to argue?)

Re: Labyrinth fusion!

[(Anonymous)]

That should so be mentioned.

"Who are you?"
"I am Jareth, the Goblin King."
"What? No, I've met that guy. Goes by Erlking. You are not him."
"There can be more than one!"

Re: Labyrinth fusion!

[(Anonymous)]

And then someone yells "No, there can be only one!" and they fight to the decapitation with swords!

....sorry, fandom flashback there. (drink!)