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Just remembering the heat and energy of the st_xi_kink meme as it kept going on and on makes me sit back and go whoa with a kind of awed satisfaction at being a part of all that. After awhile I think a lot of people just ended up being extremely comfortable in our little family of (non)anons because there's nothing like sharing a love for a great fandom and being able to express those feelings creatively.
I get that same vibe from this dresden kinkmeme and it makes me go all gooey and gushy. No idea if it's like that in other kinkmemes or not since this one and the st_xi are the only ones in which I've participated.
Um. Rambling, anon is rambling.
tldr; JFC I love ya'll.
I get that same vibe from this dresden kinkmeme and it makes me go all gooey and gushy. No idea if it's like that in other kinkmemes or not since this one and the st_xi are the only ones in which I've participated.
Um. Rambling, anon is rambling.
tldr; JFC I love ya'll.
OP is delighted someone shares her utter depravity.
This is so fucking excellent.
Feeling's mutual, anon. ♥
I'm stunned by how well this meme is doing. I never thought that DF had such an active fandom, but look at all the incredible fics (and comments and meta and discussion) inspired by this meme. It's just awesome.
AYRT: I get the warm fuzzies about st_xi_kinkmeme, too. Extreme warm fuzzies. I must have done at least a hundred fills for them, and every one of them was reviewed with love and care. I still see some of the (not)anons around, including in DF fandom...I've filled some anon and some not-anon here, just like I did there...I'm probably only at about 30 overall fills yet, though.
I poked around the Axis Powers Hetalia kink meme, but they were militantly anon - I mean, not in a supercruel way, but they'd sometimes point out that someone was unanoned with the expectation that it was an accident, not to be repeated. I didn't really get that: sometimes people don't want to anon, usually to avoid Captcha |D pointing it out like they're doing something wrong didn't jive with me.
I love everyone here and on STXI <3 except one or two anons who bitched at me for wanting a prompt that was reposted twice to be reposted with the correct spelling of "admiral" next time. oTL less love for them.
I poked around the Axis Powers Hetalia kink meme, but they were militantly anon - I mean, not in a supercruel way, but they'd sometimes point out that someone was unanoned with the expectation that it was an accident, not to be repeated. I didn't really get that: sometimes people don't want to anon, usually to avoid Captcha |D pointing it out like they're doing something wrong didn't jive with me.
I love everyone here and on STXI <3 except one or two anons who bitched at me for wanting a prompt that was reposted twice to be reposted with the correct spelling of "admiral" next time. oTL less love for them.
He could smell heaven. He didn't know that was possible. He disengaged from the irate councilmember and followed the smell to a timid redheaded staffer.
"Where's the coffee from?" he asked. She whirled around with a small squeak - normally he found the sound kind of cute, but right now it was interfering with his ability to go and buy heaven.
"U-uh...I think it was called - " she checked a white napkin covered in pen writing - "Harry and Mac's?"
"May I try some?" he asked, as politely as he knew how (which was pretty polite, he just didn't usually bother).
"...sure, I guess? Just don't drink too much," she bit her lip, and offered him the cup.
The closer it got to his face, the more confident he was that this was literally heaven in a cup. When he took a sip, he realized he'd been kidding himself. It was better than heaven. He sighed and all the various tensions the election cycle had raised in his bodies just...disappeared. He opened his eyes and the world looked bright and fucking beautiful, and he was ready to attack this job and subdue it to his will.
The girl was looking at him expectantly, hand still extended.
"Umm?"
He looked at her, and back at the coffee. Did he have to give it back? Yes. He probably did.
"Can I have that map?" he nodded to the napkin, with a rough sketch of where the cafe was.
"I'll trade you," she grinned, offering the map with one hand and leaving the other open and waiting. It was a funny little dance, neither wanting to yield the advantage.
The victory of a scribbled napkin felt hollow when the warmth of the coffee left his hand. It stayed in his mouth and belly much longer, though, so he supposed it was alright to yield this one, knowing he could buy heaven whenever he wanted, in the future.
Morning came and the thought that got him out of bed was getting some of that coffee. He found the place with little incident, but it was dark. Fear seized him. What if they'd closed down, never to open again? He parked and got out, trying to find some indication of life. The door was locked, and the hours were not encouraging.
Coffee was sold only between the hours of 1pm and 5pm. He wracked his brain. The staffer must have taken a late lunch, it was 1:30 or so when he tried her coffee. Rahm didn't really have time to drive this far for lunch, and his days already seemed to stretch infinitely past 5pm, but that was the earliest he could possibly leave. He cursed. What kind of coffee shop didn't open in mornings?
He'd have to figure something out. At least he'd have Saturdays. They didn't even have the decency to operate on Sundays.
+
I have GOT to study for my midterms tomorrow. But I will get back to this.
"Where's the coffee from?" he asked. She whirled around with a small squeak - normally he found the sound kind of cute, but right now it was interfering with his ability to go and buy heaven.
"U-uh...I think it was called - " she checked a white napkin covered in pen writing - "Harry and Mac's?"
"May I try some?" he asked, as politely as he knew how (which was pretty polite, he just didn't usually bother).
"...sure, I guess? Just don't drink too much," she bit her lip, and offered him the cup.
The closer it got to his face, the more confident he was that this was literally heaven in a cup. When he took a sip, he realized he'd been kidding himself. It was better than heaven. He sighed and all the various tensions the election cycle had raised in his bodies just...disappeared. He opened his eyes and the world looked bright and fucking beautiful, and he was ready to attack this job and subdue it to his will.
The girl was looking at him expectantly, hand still extended.
"Umm?"
He looked at her, and back at the coffee. Did he have to give it back? Yes. He probably did.
"Can I have that map?" he nodded to the napkin, with a rough sketch of where the cafe was.
"I'll trade you," she grinned, offering the map with one hand and leaving the other open and waiting. It was a funny little dance, neither wanting to yield the advantage.
The victory of a scribbled napkin felt hollow when the warmth of the coffee left his hand. It stayed in his mouth and belly much longer, though, so he supposed it was alright to yield this one, knowing he could buy heaven whenever he wanted, in the future.
Morning came and the thought that got him out of bed was getting some of that coffee. He found the place with little incident, but it was dark. Fear seized him. What if they'd closed down, never to open again? He parked and got out, trying to find some indication of life. The door was locked, and the hours were not encouraging.
Coffee was sold only between the hours of 1pm and 5pm. He wracked his brain. The staffer must have taken a late lunch, it was 1:30 or so when he tried her coffee. Rahm didn't really have time to drive this far for lunch, and his days already seemed to stretch infinitely past 5pm, but that was the earliest he could possibly leave. He cursed. What kind of coffee shop didn't open in mornings?
He'd have to figure something out. At least he'd have Saturdays. They didn't even have the decency to operate on Sundays.
+
I have GOT to study for my midterms tomorrow. But I will get back to this.
8D 8D 8D
8D 8D 8D
8D 8D 8D
You cannot imagine how happy I am right now.
If I could, I would hug you right now, and I'm not a very huggy person. :D
Good luck on your midterms. High school or college midterms?
8D 8D 8D
8D 8D 8D
You cannot imagine how happy I am right now.
If I could, I would hug you right now, and I'm not a very huggy person. :D
Good luck on your midterms. High school or college midterms?
:chinhands: You have my attention, anon.
I think it's catching.
College, more's the pity. *furiously studies journalism readings, mostly things I should have read three or four weeks ago...*
I will take non-huggy person internet hugs <3 you should feel especially privileged because when I lost this by hitting refresh halfway through, I actually retyped it instead of throwing my computer away |D
I will take non-huggy person internet hugs <3 you should feel especially privileged because when I lost this by hitting refresh halfway through, I actually retyped it instead of throwing my computer away |D
*blushes and tries to escape notice*
Yeah, this. I'm pretty much reveling in what you'e already written, authoranon.
Hmm... I'm still a high schooler myself, but I have done some college work myself and saw my cousin's work so yeah... *Dreads the Future*
Don't worry, most of the world are usually procastinators. :D Unless you're Marcone...
Ack! That happens to me a lot, too. Spent hours working on something. Then BAM! Hit the wrong button before saving and then it's all gone. D:
I admire you for trying again. :D
Can't wait for your next fill when you're done studying. :D
Don't worry, most of the world are usually procastinators. :D Unless you're Marcone...
Ack! That happens to me a lot, too. Spent hours working on something. Then BAM! Hit the wrong button before saving and then it's all gone. D:
I admire you for trying again. :D
Can't wait for your next fill when you're done studying. :D
Somebody invents a magic-proof computer, and membership in the community for RPF of the supernatural explodes (since previously it had mostly been Murphy working out her frustrations with real Harry on fictional Harry, and now...let's just say Harry has a lot of baby Wardens as his fans). Don't really care you go with this, since everything I come up with sounds funny. The meta! The ship wars! The Old Fandom people vs. the New Fandom people! A random person who thinks they're writing fic of fictional newspaper articles, not actually about real people (or, you know, Marcone very competently passing himself off as that person)! Harry's reaction when he finds out (by, of course, stumbling across one of the wilder fics)!
*winces* I hope he doesn't stumble on my tentacle porn fill... >> (that was actually my first thought.)
I didn't make this prompt but I approve of it so much! Nonnie you made my entire night with this.
Marcone/Dresden Theme:Never Write Your Feelings, It Doesn't Help(Or Does It?)
Kink:Wet Dreams, Dirty Talk, Role Playing, Anything Writer wants
Whenever Marcone has a fantasy or a wet dream about Harry, he types it down on his computer so he could flesh it out and list out the reasons why it wouldn't come true. He made the fatal mistake of saving it however.
So one day, Harry accidently breaks his computer when he came in unannouced and instead of turning off, the printer starts printing everything that was in the computer. EVERYTHING.
So now Harry found out about Marcone's fantasies. Now what?:D
It could be established relationship or not.
Bonus if there was an unmentioned incident when Marcone sent the wrong files to him.
Bonus#2 If Ivy mentions them to Kincaid later b/c she can receive the information as soon as it's printed.
Kink:Wet Dreams, Dirty Talk, Role Playing, Anything Writer wants
Whenever Marcone has a fantasy or a wet dream about Harry, he types it down on his computer so he could flesh it out and list out the reasons why it wouldn't come true. He made the fatal mistake of saving it however.
So one day, Harry accidently breaks his computer when he came in unannouced and instead of turning off, the printer starts printing everything that was in the computer. EVERYTHING.
So now Harry found out about Marcone's fantasies. Now what?:D
It could be established relationship or not.
Bonus if there was an unmentioned incident when Marcone sent the wrong files to him.
Bonus#2 If Ivy mentions them to Kincaid later b/c she can receive the information as soon as it's printed.
Ohkay. (deep breath) JFC, JFC, JFC. I write English with more ease than I do Korean, which is my mothertongue, but the one I speak when I want to really express a strong and unsubtle emotion is Korean. And I found myself gibbering away ecstatically while I was reading this, and the fact that there's more to come, ㅁ닝호머;ㅣ늄ㄴㅇ, oh my keyboard. I love this fic. I'm so glad I came to this fandom, it was so worth it, I love everything and THIS, feels like the apex of this week, goes to day, seriously.
(flails at you)
(flails at you)
Re: List Of Why He/She Shouldn't NOT Fuck Harry Till He Begs For It
(Anonymous) 2011-02-23 07:06 am (UTC)(link)The thought of Kincaid dealing with his being Ivy's first crush interests me, too. Because it would be complex and probably highly angsty and messed up (which describes a lot of Dresden canon and is therefore strangely fitting).
Charity makes Michael's armor and spare weapons. Michael builds houses. What other objects do they create?
I'm hoping to see delight in each other's creative work as major mutual turn-on running through their relationship. Also, perhaps they custom make sex toys to their taste?
I'm hoping to see delight in each other's creative work as major mutual turn-on running through their relationship. Also, perhaps they custom make sex toys to their taste?
Elaine and Lara get it on. Neither wants to be entirely heartless. Neither wants to deeply love. They suit each other wonderfully.
First authoranon here, and I love this. I can't even decide which bit I like most-- like Harry, I kind of want to curl up with all of them.
Also, isn't that one of the best things about this type of fic challenge? That people can riff off the same prompt, or even other people fills, and it's not exclusive so you know if you fill something, that doesn't mean you won't get to read someone else's take, and sometimes you get extra bonus fic sequels that you couldn't write yourself.
Also, isn't that one of the best things about this type of fic challenge? That people can riff off the same prompt, or even other people fills, and it's not exclusive so you know if you fill something, that doesn't mean you won't get to read someone else's take, and sometimes you get extra bonus fic sequels that you couldn't write yourself.
Johnny knew every corner of his city like the back of his hand. When a new business opened, Johnny was there. When a building was leveled, Johnny was there.
So Johnny knew about MacAnally's pub, had partaken happily of their steaks and loved their ale. When MacAnally's became Harry and Mac's, he knew and wondered, and he investigated. Mac was still there, serving the best bitter in town. He was still so laconic that Johnny didn't even bother asking.
But whoever Harry was, he might be willing to say. Johnny kept trying to get in before five, but something was always stopping him. It got so bad Hendricks even commented on his seeming inability to take a break, which Johnny could say only that he was trying to.
Saturday, though. On Saturday he could look.
There was only one barista working, but that didn't seem to impact business. People lounged around on chairs, some with mugs in hand, many clinging to numbered tickets.
Johnny took a number of his own curiously and settled in to watch. In half an hour, the barista had served only four people, taking the next order when he'd finished the last. There were at least twenty in the ticketed line, and not a single one of them left, even knowing they could literally wait for two hours for a single cup of coffee. It was inconceivable.
It made Johnny really want to try this coffee.
The twenty people ahead of him didn't actually take hours. A little less than an hour and a half after entering the shop, it was his turn. Finally he got a really good look at the barista, a man more than six and a half feet tall (once someone was taller than Johnny, he stopped splitting hairs about exactly how much taller they were) and decidedly underfed-looking.
"What d'you want?" the barista asked, smiling. The smile and tone made an otherwise abrupt question hang with charming familiarity instead.
"...what would you recommend?" Johnny asked.
"First-timer, eh?" the barista - Harry, according to his nametag - asked. "To be honest, I'm a traditionalist. Pure black all the way." He tilted his head and seemed to look through Johnny. "But you need a little sweetness, don't you? How about a mocha?"
"A mocha? Sure," Johnny shrugged, wondering if it was a bad sign that "a little sweetness" made his mind leap straight into the gutter with the handsome, charismatic barista.
The coffee took less than three minutes. It seemed Harry got faster as his shift went on, or perhaps there had been some mishaps earlier. The line was still a few dozen people deep.
Johnny thanked Harry for the mocha and went to sit, inhaling deeply. It smelled delicious - sweet undertones to bitter energy. The first sip was electrifying. He stopped worrying about the rest of his life, except to think with firm conviction that everything would get better and all his work would be easily achievable as soon as he finished his coffee.
He was even getting a few ideas, for some of the more distant plans that had been percolating in the back of his mind. He could clean out some of the waste in his organization and make the streets safer.
He scribbled madly on a notebook as he sipped his coffee. It was too good to take large gulps of: he wanted it to last as long as possible. The cafe was full of people doing almost exactly the same thing: sketching or writing or talking animatedly on cellphones as they slowly sipped coffee. This, Johnny decided, was the best coffee shop in Chicago.
+
Going to go collapse in bed for a few hours, get up early to study more, and then pray I survive the next 24 hours.
So Johnny knew about MacAnally's pub, had partaken happily of their steaks and loved their ale. When MacAnally's became Harry and Mac's, he knew and wondered, and he investigated. Mac was still there, serving the best bitter in town. He was still so laconic that Johnny didn't even bother asking.
But whoever Harry was, he might be willing to say. Johnny kept trying to get in before five, but something was always stopping him. It got so bad Hendricks even commented on his seeming inability to take a break, which Johnny could say only that he was trying to.
Saturday, though. On Saturday he could look.
There was only one barista working, but that didn't seem to impact business. People lounged around on chairs, some with mugs in hand, many clinging to numbered tickets.
Johnny took a number of his own curiously and settled in to watch. In half an hour, the barista had served only four people, taking the next order when he'd finished the last. There were at least twenty in the ticketed line, and not a single one of them left, even knowing they could literally wait for two hours for a single cup of coffee. It was inconceivable.
It made Johnny really want to try this coffee.
The twenty people ahead of him didn't actually take hours. A little less than an hour and a half after entering the shop, it was his turn. Finally he got a really good look at the barista, a man more than six and a half feet tall (once someone was taller than Johnny, he stopped splitting hairs about exactly how much taller they were) and decidedly underfed-looking.
"What d'you want?" the barista asked, smiling. The smile and tone made an otherwise abrupt question hang with charming familiarity instead.
"...what would you recommend?" Johnny asked.
"First-timer, eh?" the barista - Harry, according to his nametag - asked. "To be honest, I'm a traditionalist. Pure black all the way." He tilted his head and seemed to look through Johnny. "But you need a little sweetness, don't you? How about a mocha?"
"A mocha? Sure," Johnny shrugged, wondering if it was a bad sign that "a little sweetness" made his mind leap straight into the gutter with the handsome, charismatic barista.
The coffee took less than three minutes. It seemed Harry got faster as his shift went on, or perhaps there had been some mishaps earlier. The line was still a few dozen people deep.
Johnny thanked Harry for the mocha and went to sit, inhaling deeply. It smelled delicious - sweet undertones to bitter energy. The first sip was electrifying. He stopped worrying about the rest of his life, except to think with firm conviction that everything would get better and all his work would be easily achievable as soon as he finished his coffee.
He was even getting a few ideas, for some of the more distant plans that had been percolating in the back of his mind. He could clean out some of the waste in his organization and make the streets safer.
He scribbled madly on a notebook as he sipped his coffee. It was too good to take large gulps of: he wanted it to last as long as possible. The cafe was full of people doing almost exactly the same thing: sketching or writing or talking animatedly on cellphones as they slowly sipped coffee. This, Johnny decided, was the best coffee shop in Chicago.
+
Going to go collapse in bed for a few hours, get up early to study more, and then pray I survive the next 24 hours.
John Marcone heads a mercenary outfit. Harry Dresden is a specialist he is trying to lure onto the team.
Sparks fly. Wills clash. Sexytimes ensuing would make my day.
Sparks fly. Wills clash. Sexytimes ensuing would make my day.
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