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

Authornon Re: Mine [2/2]

[(Anonymous)]

;D

Re: What's in a name?

[scribe_protra]

OMG OMG OMG this is amazing.

....DOES THIS MEAN HENDRICKS IS SECRETLY RON?

Re: What's in a name?

[(Anonymous)]

YES YES HE IS

Re: What's in a name?

[samjohnsson]

O.o

...

BWAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAAHAHA

more?

Re: What's in a name?

[scribe_protra]

There is nothing about this idea that I do not love!

(Where is Hermoine in all this?)

Re: What's in a name?

[(Anonymous)]

Heh. I'd find "Hermione after a sex-change and losing her magic" more plausible than HarryP, actually... Harry was not the brilliant ruthless plotter in that trio.

Fill: Fortuitus Familia 13/?

[(Anonymous)]

"Hey, Harry?" Billy's voice drifted down into the lab.

"Yeah?" I packed the bag of ghost dust into my backpack, next to the chalk and the iron filings.

"Are you sure this is such a good idea?"

"Heads up!" I tossed the bag up through the hole and Billy caught it. "Yeah. I've got all my gear now, so we go back, get the Corpsetaker's attention and exorcise his pasty ass. It's a good plan." I climbed up into my apartment and took the bag back.

"Um." He hesitated, clearly trying to think of how to say whatever it was he wanted to say. "But, and don't kill me, you're pregnant." I gave him the Spock eyebrow.

Then I made a big show of looking down at my stomach, head shooting back up to stare at him in my best simulated horror movie shock.

"Oh my god! When did that happen?!?" I covered my mouth with one hand, putting the other on the top of the shallow rise of my baby belly. "Why didn't anyone tell me?" A few fake sniffles, just for effect. Billy just rolled his eyes at me.

"Okay, okay. I know you know that you're pregnant, I'm just not sure you really know it. This is kind of dangerous, right? Cornering a spirit like this? Didn't you tell me some run of the mill backwoods hack of a sorcerer's ghost took a good chunk out of you once? How much worse is somebody whose name was 'Corpsetaker' in life going to be?"

"First, the Nightmare had extenuating circumstances involved. And I kicked his ass. Sec-"

"You kicked his ass, right. By dying. And he nearly killed Mrs. Carpenter and little Harry before you did."

"Second, he's dead. A ghost. They have rules, Billy. The things that made the Nightmare what it was aren't going on right now, so he's just an unusually uppity ghost. And third, that's why we're bringing Mouse." Mouse thumped his tail, once, grinning a lopsided doggy grin.

"Not for nothing, and I love Mouse, but he's a dog. What's he going to do?"

"Mouse is not just a dog. He's got magic powers, and one of those is that he can fight spirits." Billy gave Mouse a skeptical look.

"'Magic powers'?"

"Says the guy who learned how to turn into a wolf from a wolf that learned to turn into a human. To the wizard."

"Good point." He nodded. "So, what's my role in all this?"

"How do you feel about the title, 'Billy the Boy Bait'?" I knew just how wrong it sounded as soon as it left my lips. But it was too late to take it back, so I just dropped an arm over his shoulders and steered us toward the front door. Mouse followed, picking up his 'service dog' disguise and leash as he passed the end table by the door.

"Not good. Let's never use that particular sequence of words again."

~

It was dusk by the time we got back to the alley, and the street was clear. Which would have been freaky, except I guessed it was just human instincts kicking in. A lot of black magic had been slung around here, a lot of death. Even years later, that sort of thing leaves a stain, an uneasy feeling. Students who lived around here probably found other places to be, after dark, or they stayed in their rooms, and they had no idea why.

I was working under the theory that the simplest trap was the best. The circle I drew for Billy was large enough that he could pace a little in it, giving the impression that he was waiting for someone and not just standing there, looking suspicious. It would stay dormant until Billy activated it, which he was going to do just as soon as the Corpsetaker's ghost made his appearance. Then, Mouse and I would charge around the corner, deal with the creepy bastard and we could all go to Mac's for some burgers afterward. I was thinking maybe an avocado swiss number. It wasn't on the menu, but I knew Mac would make it for me if I asked nicely.

We were sitting there for maybe forty-five minutes, an hour tops. I was glad for the warmth from my coat and Mouse's big fuzzy butt beside me. Stake-outs, no matter who or what you're waiting for, can get boring. Dull enough for your mind to wander a little from the task at hand. So Mouse's low, sub-vocal growl cutting through my body was something of a shock. I jerked upright and stood, barely missing crunching down on the empty soda can the wind had blown beneath me in the meantime.

I felt the cold, slimy feeling of the Corpsetaker's ghost a few seconds later. Hells bells, I could practically taste the decay. Gross. Very, very gross. I pulled the ghost dust out of my pocket and got the bag ready for an easy reach and toss. Another second after that, I heard Billy make a startled sound and felt the power from my circle going up.

A wavering, angry hiss cut through the air and I ran around the corner. The Corpsetaker still looked like Luccio, a neat little hole right above one eye, still dripping blood. He didn't look at me, or Mouse, but focused completely on Billy, plastering himself against the wall of the circle, trying to force his way through. The circle spit out little waves of bright light, ripples against it's surface. I wasn't a part of his little ghost world, so I just didn't register. Which was cool, because it let me get right up close. Of course in order to banish the sucker I had to get him to notice me, which was less fun.

"Hey! What're you messing with him for? Don't you remember me?" His head turned, eyes glowing black and stared at me without recognition. "Sure you do!" He backed a step away from the circle, just a tad closer to me. I stuck my hand into the bag and got a fistful of ghost dust. Mouse had vanished somewhere into the blackness of the alley, waiting for his shot. "I'm the one who shot your nasty, second rate sorcerer ass. Right between the eyes. Like a rabid-"

His face twisted, Luccio's handsome features twisting into something grotesque, like a mask and the ghost lunged for me, faster than thought. I was already dodging, turning to one side and letting the spirit slide past me, like a charging bull. I dumped my handful of dust on him, and he screamed, nails on a chalkboard. The faint, faded gray form solidified, gained color and he got faster, turning on me so fast he almost blinked out of sight.

"I remember you, White Council bitch." I threw the rest of the ghost dust at him and he plowed right through the sparkling cloud, gaining solidity as he did, his lips peeled back from teeth that looked sharp and rotting, reddish stains coming into being on them. I danced back over the ground, reaching into my pocket for the charm that would dissipate the remnants of his energy and send him away for good.

My breath was coming harder than I'd expected, and I cursed as he got closer. My boot found some slick piece of trash and my leg twisted sideways. I caught myself, corrected, and got hold of the flat little piece of metal. Mouse's pounding steps came down the alley and I jerked my head up. The Corpsetaker was right there, blinking from one spot a few feet away to right in front of my face between breaths.

"Harry!" Billy shouted and I felt the 'pop' as he broke the circle. Cold, dead hands grabbed at me as I shoved the charm up, like driving my fist into a bowl of really thick pudding. The ghost screamed again, twisting away from me, throwing me off balance and I couldn't catch myself this time. I had that one, long moment to think 'shit' and then I was falling, the asphalt coming up all too fast. Mouse growled and I saw him hit the ghost, driving it down as it started to flake into wisps that dissipated like smoke. I brought my shield up, trying to make it soft and flexible. I'd done it once before, but I'd had a hell of a lot more time before impact, then.

I felt the shield hit the ground, a teeth rattling impact and my breath went out of me in a rush. My shield, too brittle because of the rush, shattered and I hit the ground, rolling so I took the softened impact on my hip and shoulder.

Billy was there a second later, pulling me up against his chest.

"Dammit!" I wheezed it out, still trying to get my breath. I pushed at his arm, and he ignored me, glancing over to where Mouse was still tearing the ectoplasmic bits of the Corpsetaker into ever smaller bits.

"Where'd you hit? Are you bleeding?" He was patting at me, trying to see or smell any wounds in the dark.

"I'm fine. Fucking trash on the damned street-" I coughed and a spike of pain went through the shoulder I'd landed on. "I cushioned the fall, Billy. I didn't get hurt." I pushed at him again, and he loosened his hold enough that I could lever off of him and start to rise, using his shoulder to brace myself against.

"I don't think you should-"

"Shut up Billy." I got my feet under me and started to take a step away from him. As I put my weight on my right leg, the one that had slipped on me earlier, pain twisted through my ankle, knocking me off balance again and I started to crumble. Billy caught me and eased me down to a sitting position against the wall. Mouse wandered over, reproach clear in his eyes. "Don't you start too." I wagged my finger at him and he sighed, draping himself over my legs but keeping clear of the throbbing ankle.

"Hospital or boyfriend?"

"Neither. Help me to the car and take me home." Billy crossed his arms, his glasses glinting in the light from the main street a few yards away.

"Nope. You fell. I don't smell any blood, but you fell and you hurt yourself. You can either go to the hospital, or I can call Mr. Marcone. Your choice." I glared at him, ready to argue and Mouse gave a pleading sigh. I looked at him and caved. My shoulder was being joined by my hip, and my neck in the chorus of dull, throbbing hurts. And my ankle was slowly heating up from dull to fiery pain.

"Fine. Marcone." I rattled off his cell number to Billy, who walked away a few steps and called him.

I slumped against the wall, visions of a small, well appointed cell somewhere deep in Marcone's house dancing through my mind. He was going to be so pissed.

Re: OP Re: Fill: Fortuitus Familia 12/?

[(Anonymous)]

I think Mouse lives in a near constant state of worry. He does have to take care of Harry, after all. :)

Now that they know, maybe they will!

Re: Fill: Fortuitus Familia 12/?

[(Anonymous)]

I really think that, in canon, all his friends have different, weird bets about things regarding Harry. He's such a magnet for weirdness, they'd be fools not to! :D

Re: sexting or phonesex, Marcone/Dresden

[(Anonymous)]

Sex letter-writing?

Re: Fill: Fortuitus Familia 12/?

[(Anonymous)]

They sort of absorb Harry's weird nonchalance about things.

:D

Re: Fill: Fortuitus Familia 12/?

[(Anonymous)]

ooohh...that'd suck, if I did that. :D

Re: Fill: Fortuitus Familia 12/?

[(Anonymous)]

ooohh...that'd be bad, wouldn't it, if I did that? :D

Fill, 3/?: Rejoice in Thy Labor

[(Anonymous)]

I let the door of my apartment fall shut behind me, and sighed. I was only here to feed Mister, pick up Mouse and a few other things I needed, and tell Bob where I’d be for the foreseeable future. There was no question about leaving Michael and his family alone for the next few days, unless I was heading out to protect them against a threat. Molly had begged me not to stay away right before I left.

But I would have come back even if she hadn’t. There was no way I was going to turn my back on the swimming tears in the younger kids’ eyes, or Michael’s quiet strength, or even Matthew’s anger.

What do you think you are doing, my host?

I froze for a second, my blasting rod jerking in my hand, and then sighed and dropped it on the floor. “Damnit, Lash,” I muttered as I headed into the bedroom so that I could get a change of clothes. Mister briefly wound around my legs before he went back to staring into an important patch of darkness. “Don’t do that.”

An inconvenient time for you to pick up another devotion.

I snorted and started throwing T-shirts and jeans in a bag Thomas had got me last year. “You make it sound as though I’m following some hippie religion I picked up from people I met on the street.”

That would disturb me less than this.

I rolled my eyes and added some boxers on top of everything else. “Of course it would. You’re a freaking fallen angel, and Michael’s a Knight.”

Yes. He is.

Her words fell heavily on my ears, and I slowed down with the packing. I swallowed when I thought about the warm magic of Michael’s threshold closing around me, and the way Molly looked at me as if she thought I would actually defend her life with everything that I had. Well, that was what I’d promised, wasn’t it?

But all of that would change if enough people learned about Lash.

I do wish that you had less guilt, my host. You leave it behind in your dreams, and in them, you are much more interesting. Her voice turned sly. I could show you in which ways, if you would like.

“Go away, Lash,” I said firmly, and added some socks before I zipped the bag shut. I headed to the bathroom for my toothbrush and Mouse’s leash, although how that had ended up in there I didn’t know. “You aren’t going to be affected by anything I do for Michael and his family. The answer to your question is still ‘fuck off.’”

It has not always been, she murmured, her voice soft and warm this time. She paused, long enough that I waited to see what she would say in spite of myself, and then added, I could contribute to your effort of keeping them safe, my host. As well as ourselves.

“Freaking fallen angel,” I reminded her. “Knight of the Cross. Somehow I don’t think I’m going to be adding Hellfire to my repertoire in the immediate future.”

Not even to save that poor child condemned unfairly by your Council for embracing her true nature?

“Go awaaaay,” I sang. I would have plugged my ears with my fingers, except I knew that was purely symbolic and it would only make Lash laugh at me.

Lash sniffed at me and finally shut up. I poured one bowl full of Coke for Mister and another full of water, and thought about what she’d said while I was filling his food dish—when I could think above his violent gulping of the Coke, that was.

Somehow, I hadn’t thought once about the fact that I still had Lasciel’s coin and her shadow in my head when I was making all those good-natured vows to help Michael and his family. I winced when I remembered the way Michael had looked at the Denarians, and the pity in his voice when he spoke of them. Would he want my help when he found out? And there was no way he wouldn’t find out. We would be living together for a few days, and then around each other for quite a while after that.

Maybe I should reconsider…

Then I gritted my teeth, and reminded myself that Michael worked quite happily with a former Denarian. If he could trust Sanya after all he’d been through, then he could put up with me—and I haven’t even taken the coin up yet.

You haven’t laid it down, either.

I couldn’t tell whether that was Lash’s voice or mine, or perhaps that of my idiot id, which meant I was a whole hell of a lot more tired than I should be. I shook my head sharply, decided to worry about it later, and swung back the trapdoor to the lab.

“Bob!” I yelled as I swung down the ladder. “I need to know everything you can tell me about the way the Council judges warlocks. Everything.”

Bob yawned and came slowly to life, his eyesockets flickering with interest as he turned to look at me. “Reconsidering, boss?” he muttered.

“It’s for Molly,” I said shortly, and glanced around the lab, wondering if there was anything down here that I couldn’t do without for the next few days, or at least until the weekend. I ended up picking a few boxes of generic potions ingredients, a few handkerchiefs with sunlight folded in them in case I ran into vampires, a cold iron dagger, and a box with some “surprises.” I packed the former three into the last one and turned around.

Bob’s eyelights were squinting at me. “Boss,” he said. “You did something.”

“What?” I looked down at my duster, wondering if I could have missed some wound that the faeries had inflicted. Well, of course I could have. I’d had other things to worry about, like whether Molly would make it, and Charity…

My throat tightened and my eyes burned because of that damn dust that’s everywhere in my lab. I had to turn my head to the side and concentrate pretty fiercely on the wall, or I wouldn’t have gotten anything done.

“You look as though—you look different,” Bob said. His eyes were spinning in opposite directions now. “I don’t know how to define it. I mean, if you’d been through some ceremony where you promised allegiance to Mab or something, then yeah, that would explain it. This—the edges of your presence have changed. They’re sharper.”

I rolled my eyes. “Great. Then I can cut my enemies down without even using my rapier wit.” I reached for some paper and a pen. “Give me what you can on warlocks.”

“What kind of oath did you swear?” Bob insisted. “That’s the other thing that would do it, besides some big ceremony of allegiance. Come on, you can tell me.” He paused, and then his eyes rolled over. “Unless it’s…did you sell your soul to get Susan back?”

”No!” I snapped at him. “Charity Carpenter is dead!”

Bob paused, and then said in a softer voice, “Gee, boss, sorry. It wasn’t your fault, you know.”

“What are you talking about?” I squawked. “I didn’t mention that!”

“No, but you wouldn’t talk about her death in that tone of voice if you didn’t blame yourself,” Bob said matter-of-factly. “And I don’t think you would be taking over Miss Warlock Babe’s trial and defense by yourself, either.”

“Well, you’re wrong,” I said. “I would have defended Molly no matter what.” I snapped my fingers at him. “Come on. Details about the trial.”

“What are you going to do with them?” Bob sounded slightly uneasy. “I’ve seen you when you take up these responsibility deals, Harry. You take them way more seriously than any other mortal I’ve ever met.”

I leaned forward. Bob looked as if he would have backed away if the skull would have let him.

“I am taking this seriously,” I said. “It was my fault, and I am going to make up for it, partially by defending Molly from a death she doesn’t deserve. Now. Trials.”

Bob began to spout details in a cowed little voice. I started writing, and wished in the back of my mind that I could make Lash obey that way.

I disagree with the air spirit, Lash said suddenly, in a flat tone that was nothing like the teasing one she’d used earlier. You will regret this decision, my host, and it is one that you should not have made.

I ignored her, and put both my brain and my hands to work.

Re: Fill, 2/?: Rejoice in Thy Labor

[(Anonymous)]

Yeah, I'm going to have a lot of fun with that part. Especially when Harry starts wondering (as he does in the next part) whether he's the best person to offer this help, and does noble, stupid things in the name of giving Michael and his family some space.

Re: Fill, 2/?: Rejoice in Thy Labor

[(Anonymous)]

Thank you! Harry is, for once, doing something with his pain rather than just focusing on it or using it as an immediate boost to his magic, and it's because he knows Michael and his kids need all his attention.

OP Re: Fill: Fortuitus Familia 13/?

[(Anonymous)]

lol I love Harry's fake shock at Billy's very subtle way of reminding her she's pregnant.

Oh man, prepare for some extreme fussing over, wizard. Because Marcone's an expert in that.

Fill 3/?

[(Anonymous)]

Unsurprisingly, Mr. Marcone was awake when Hendricks returned. Hendricks was occasionally tempted to drug his boss’ coffee. Of course, even if it was tasteless and scentless, Mr. Marcone would know.

Mr. Marcone put down his pen when Hendricks walked in the room. His expression didn’t change at Hendricks’ look of disapproval. They did this often.

“Dresden’s a little shook up but fine,” Hendricks reported first. Mr. Marcone still viewed Dresden as one of his, and he was protective of his own. Even now, he watched his boss look him up and down to make sure he was all right. Mr. Marcone nodded, and Hendricks resumed, describing the incident.

By the end of it, Mr. Marcone’s mouth was pursed in a thoughtful frown. “He said the creature’s behavior was unusual?”

Hendricks nodded. “He wasn’t expecting it to be aggressive at all.” And the paranoid bastard expected everyone to try and kill him, but he didn’t add that. No need.

Mr. Marcone continued frowning. “Keep an eye on him. I’ll contact Ms. Gard.”

Hendricks nodded again. He didn’t move away. Mr. Marcone sighed and pushed away from his desk. “I’ll contact you in the morning.”

Only when Mr. Marcone moved toward the door did Hendricks start to leave. Overpaid babysitter. Really.

Mr. Marcone eyed him as they walked down the hall together. That was never good. “You are complaining far less now than when you originally began following Mr. Dresden,” he commented.

Hendricks found himself bristling. He straightened his shoulders and kept his face blank. “I didn’t complain,” he replied. Only a trace of indignity touched his voice.
He was a professional, after all.

Mr. Marcone raised an eyebrow. “You texted me on the hour every hour with a dissection of what you called Mr. Dresden’s ‘issues.’ You stated he was inspiring you to change your field to psychology. You offered to stop mentioning my sleep habits for a week if I let you follow Mr. Raith instead.”

Hendricks resolutely stared forward. Neither mentioned that Mr. Marcone could have gone on for a couple more minutes. He hadn’t even mentioned the emails.

Still, having Dresden as a psych specimen would make any psychologist green with envy.

“My texting thumb was getting sore,” he replied simply. It had, actually. His trigger finger had never grown tired no matter what battlefield he found himself, but Dresden tired out his texting thumb. It didn’t surprise him.

Mr. Marcone hummed. “You also didn’t glare at me earlier in the week when the report on Mr. Raith came in.”

The report that covered as many waking hours as possible and listed every time Raith so much as looked at Dresden. Hendricks grunted. “No point.” Because of course Dresden would have a vampire for an ex while there was a war going on between vampires and wizards. Of course. Sex vampire, even.

Mr. Marcone kept watching him out of the corner of his eye. He had another verbal bullet waiting to be shot, but he didn’t. Hendricks knew what it was.

He hadn’t said a word about Gard, either.

Hendricks and Mr. Marcone went their separate ways with barely a word said and too many dangling in the middle. Hendricks took a page out of Dresden’s book and didn’t look at them.

He who said there was no darkness but ignorance never saw inside John Marcone’s heart.

Or Harry Dresden’s.

Your Chase, Baron

[(Anonymous)]

John/Harry

Harry is the Winter Knight; John wants him back in Chicago (preferably under his "rule", since John's possessive like that).

(un?)Fortunately for him, Mab can't resist a good bargain. He makes a deal with her.

Harry's hidden away somewhere on earth (not the NeverNever) completing a task for Mab. Marcone has a certain amount of time to find Harry and have sex with him. He can use whatever resources are available to him aside from Gard, but he can't tell Harry about the deal until the deed is done. If Marcone completes the task, the Winter Knight is released to him (and him alone). If he fails, Mab gets what she wants.

I'm imagining in this that Mab is banking on the Marcone's hesitance to "rape" Harry, and that he won't have any supernatural aide. I'm also imagining that she's underestimating Marcone's ability to get Harry in a position where it's not rape (dub-con is okay, but no flat-out non-con please), and in his ability to contact Harry's supernatural friends (Toot), and in his own resources. :)

Something like a treasure hunt, please, where the treasure is completing his own tasks and moving around, and with some rescue-loving mixed in.

Re: Accountancy

[(Anonymous)]

OMG, somebody totally needs to write a drugged!Marcone fic where he spouts that line. Srsly. I'd love to see Harry's reaction to Johnny-boy cuddling up to him, saying lines like that to whatever fae/wizard/whomever is trying to kill them. Or enlist them. "No, he can't work for you. He's mine."

That is totally priceless. Thank you for that.

(Of course, now I can't keep "just keep swimming" out of my head!)

Re: Your Chase, Baron

[(Anonymous)]

Any specifics as to what Mab gets if Marcone fails? If Gard is banned may I assume any other (supernatural?) aid from Vadderung is also banned? Are magical artifacts okay? So is all Marcone knows about Harry's location is that he's on Earth somewhere?

Dub-con vs non-con: how are you defining the difference? I'm assuming physical force, unconsciousness, puppet-like mind control are obviously out of the picture. Uh, what about sex pollen that leaves free will intact, outright fuck-or-die magics, threats of retaliation to others?

Re: Your Chase, Baron

[(Anonymous)]

No specifics on what Mab gets, except that she considers it worthy enough to challenge Marcone for it, but not enough for an outright trade.

Vadderung is banned, yes, because that would make it just too easy for Marcone - and Mab knows it. Anything that would guarantee Marcone winning, I guess, would be banned. :/ And yeah, all Marcone knows is he's on earth.

On the dub vs. non-con issue - uh, yes? I'm only really against "no-choice" sex. Dub-con I would consider options such as "lesser of two evils," sex pollens/drugs that lower inhibitions/increase sex drive (or need), and not-completely-informed consent (as in "shit, I didn't know *that* was going to happen when we did it). Things that are borderline, but are only so because of the situation. If that makes sense.

Hopefully I haven't confused you! Really, I'll be happy even if you stray a bit from this, so don't feel limited if your ideas go a slightly different way.

Re: AU to Varying Degree

[(Anonymous)]

lol! :)

Re: Your Chase, Baron

[(Anonymous)]

I'm thinking about being able to get large numbers of low-powered artifacts or just mundane items that affect magic. And then use them in sneaky ways. Not to mention Marcone's sources for information in the mortal world (which may not guarantee he would win, but probably pretty much guarantee that he can find Harry)- I don't think Mab is entirely in step with 21st century communications.

I was definitely planning on not-completely-informed consent as far as knowing about the trade. So this means Harry isn't the Winter Knight anymore if Marcone wins?

How much is Mab allowed to put up obstacles?

Re: Your Chase, Baron

[(Anonymous)]

I'm totally good with that. :) With both the sneaky Marcone and the not-completely-informed consent. You can get close to non-con if you'd like, so long as Harry isn't actually saying no and/or sincerely trying to get away.

I'm good with Harry not being the Winter Knight anymore, but I was thinking more of a transfer - not the Winter Knight, but the Baron's Knight, or Chicago's Knight or something. However you want to work that, however, is up to you. Harry would definitely feel indebted to Marcone after this though, especially if he's "freed".

Mab can use whatever obstacles you feel work, so long as she stays within the laws of the Accords, I guess. I didn't really think that much about that. It might be best if she can't act on Marcone directly, if you know what I mean. So she can't completely incapacitate him.