Comment Fic War the Second ROUND-UP
My round-up post for unsettledink 's second comment fic war. The basic idea is 48 hours of mad, crazy, replying comment fics, no editing or second thoughts allowed. My final total was 46 out of 133 comment fics, or 35%. Feelin' pretty awesome about that! :D
Fics within a fandom aren't directly connected to each other unless I include someone else's comments (i.e. the_me09 's and unsettledink 's) to give the flow of the story.
Fandom: Rango
Number of fics: 5
Ratings: K+
Warnings: one character death (first fic)
Characters/Pairings: Rango, Rattlesnake Jake, Rango/Rattlesnake Jake
Rango felt his limbs getting heavier and heavier as Rattlesnake Jake slowly squeezed him to death.
"Who are you, brother?" Jake asked, tongue flickering against the chameleon's face.
And the last thought Rango had before the life left his body was, "I'm nobody."
Nowadays Rango isn't afraid of much. Dirt's doing well, the water keeps coming, and there just isn't much to get worried about.
But whenever Rattlesnake Jake turns up, starts coiling around the chameleon, asking if he's been telling tales again, asking what he's been doing lately with just one bullet, he shivers. It's a shiver that's a little fear, a little envy, and a little of something else he can't quite name. He and Jake are on peaceable terms-- in fact, it's downright friendly the way Jake keeps turning up and not killing anyone.
But Rango can't feel comfortable around the rattler. That little shiver keeps getting in the way.
Rattlesnake Jake's had a certain amount of respect for the little sheriff ever since the day he found out what ancient tortoise tastes like (quite bland, actually-- Jake was disappointed). But whenever they meet it's always Jake doing the circling, Jake doing the teasing, Jake doing the dominating, Jake in control.
Then Rango drives off a marauding hawk.
Jake isn't used to being beholden to someone.
Jake doesn't belong in Dirt, and Rango doesn't belong in the desert, but sometimes they end up somewhere between the two, out under the sky on their own. Sometimes they talk, sometimes they just sit, sometimes they fight.
Sometimes Jake sees Rango's eyes go unfocused, staring out west across the hot flatness, towards the highway they can't quite see. Rango'll just sit there, looking wistful and distant, for as long as Jake lets him.
One day Jake decides he doesn't want to let him. He moves sinuously around the lizard until he's blocking his view. "What're you looking at, brother?"
"The west," Rango replies dreamily.
"Why?"
"Wondering about the man with no-- ow!" Taking off his hat and rubbing his head, Rango glares up at the snake. "What was that for?"
Jake's tail is poised to whap Rango again as he chuckles. "Stop dreamin' about that old legend, brother. There's a new legend around here."
Rango blinks. "There is?"
Jake laughs again, settling down wrapped around the chameleon as he joins Rango in staring at the fires of the setting sun. "Oh yeah. Name of Rango."
Jake's never really been one for early mornings. He prefers to wait until the day gets good and hot before he so much as stirs. Rango, on the other hand, gets up early every morning to do his vocal exercises, before indulging in a bit of light improv. How else is he to nurture his artistic talent?
"Crunchy creamy cookie candy cupcake~"
CLINK.
Jake's gun is pointed straight at Rango's face. Still curled up, the snake mumbles, "Another sound outta you, brother, and I shoot you."
Rango, grumbling under his breath, climbs back up the slippery pile of sleepy coils and flops down next to Jake's head. "My talents will wither and die in this hostile environment," he whines.
The feel of Jake's tongue going gently up his back quiets him. "Shut up and go back to sleep, will you?"
Rango supposes a late start once in a while never hurt anybody.
Fandom: Megamind
Number of fics: 5
Ratings: K+ to T
References: "Hurt"
Characters/Pairings: Wayne Scott/Metro Man/Music Man, Bernard, Lord and Lady Scott, the Warden, Metro Man/Megamind, Megamind/Roxanne
"Get out."
"W-what?"
Lady Scott is watching, wide-eyed, from the sidelines as Lord Scott towers over their adopted son. "You heard me, boy. Out. Now. Should have done it years ago. Breaking everything we own, putting your mother in the hospital, nearly killing that girl, and now you turn up downtown after midnight at the scene of a murder? Enough. Get out of my house."
Wayne can't believe what he's hearing. He swallows, and turns on shaky legs to go to his room and pack his things. Twenty minutes later, he's outside in blood-stained pajamas, looking hopelessly up at the sky.
What's he supposed to do now?
It never occurred to Megamind that his species might reproduce differently than Roxanne's. He probably should have thought of that potential barrier before sleeping with her, but in his defense she was making thought very difficult.
He looks down at the three powder blue eggs on the bed, then back up at his girlfriend, whose hands are firmly planted on her hips.
"Well this is interesting."
Working late at the Megamind Museum, Bernard boredly glances up at the photos he wheels his cart past. Megamind in his first fight against Metro Man, Megamind defeating Tighten, Megamind shaking hands with the mayor, Megamind as a villain being apprehended by Metro Man while slapping Metro Man's ass, Megamind being interviewed by Rox--
Bernard stops, backs up, pulling the cart with him. He looks at the photo again.
He stares for a few minutes, eyebrows slowly going higher as his jaw slowly goes lower.
Eventually, he gets a hold of himself, shaking his head as he moves on. Well that explains a lot, he thinks.
Megamind didn't always have a running count of life sentences. One time a judge sentenced him to death. That didn't work out so well, though.
"Warden, the prisoner, he uh..."
"I think he's drunk, sir."
The Warden shook his head, secretly immensely relieved that the injection didn't work. "Take him back to his cell, then."
The mangled strains of AC/DC followed him all the way down the hall back to his office.
"We're getting married!" Megamind repeats, gazing sparkly-eyed at Roxanne.
Music Man nods slowly. "Okay, uh... great! Well, congratulations!" He almost winces at the false cheer in his own voice, but the love-struck couple are too absorbed in each other to notice.
That night, Music Man can't sleep. He just lies in bed, staring at the ceiling.
So much for destiny.
Fandom: Body of Lies/Dior Homme
Number of fics: 1
Ratings: T
Characters/Pairings: Hani Salaam/Dior Homme, hinted Hani Salaam/Roger Ferris
Homme was forever popping in and out of Amman, never announced, never unwelcome, because Hani liked a little spice in his life. Every time it was the same-- pretenses of suspicion, shows of enmity, and then always that moment when they fell into bed and surrendered to pure carnal comfort in each other's arms.
Which was why it was so odd the day Homme came to town and found Hani forlornly slumped at his desk, muttering to himself about Americans and lies. Homme left Amman that night, for the first time without sleeping with Hani.
Homme grinned. It was cute to see Hani in love.
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (2009)/RPF
Number of fics: 34 (18 mine, 16 the_me09 's, in bold)
Ratings: K+ to M
Characters/Pairings: Henry Blackwood, Coward/Dredger, Blackwood/Coward, Robert Downey Jr.
Coward stood in the library, staring forlornly at a book on the top shelf. He'd always hated being short, especially when The Aeneid lay a mere shelf out of his reach. He was about to go look for a ladder when a large hand settled gently on his head, and another took down the book he was staring at.
Coward turned, startled, to see Dredger smiling gently as he handed over the book. The larger man left the room silently, leaving Coward blushing behind him.
Coward boredly watches the furniture being moved around for the meeting. He hates arriving early. Nothing to do, no one to talk to, nothing to keep him occupied.
A tall, muscular figure passes in front of him, carrying an enormous wooden chair as though it were nothing. Eyes traveling up, Coward finds himself looking at the intimidating face of the Frenchman... Dredger, he believes.
Dredger puts the chair down easily, bending a bit at the waist. Coward finds his eyes wandering to the man's backside without his permission. Dredger straightens up, turns around, and catches Coward's eye.
He winks.
Coward stares up at the ceiling. His breathing is still harsh and he can't quite believe what just happened. All his muscles feel sore and stretched out.
"Le lit ensuite, mon petite chaton?" Dredger wipes his hands on his trousers.
Coward groans and pushes himself up. Moving the dresser into the room had been hard enough.
Coward has a problem-- he barely speaks a word of French. Now, in and of itself this wouldn't be a problem, but when a French giant is courting you... well. So, Coward turns to the smartest person he knows.
"Henry," he says, walking into the office with a piece of paper in his hand, "what does this mean?" He shoves his best guess at how to spell what Dredger whispered in his ear when they passed earlier today at Henry.
Henry looks for a moment, then turns bright red. Sputtering wildly, he says, "I, uh... who said this to you?"
Coward blinks. "Dredger."
Henry sits very still for a few minutes, evidently letting that one sink in. "Well," he says slowly, seeming to choose his words carefully, "just make sure you keep a lot of lube handy."
He regrets skivving off his french classes now. He'd always gotten other people to do his homework for him, managed to cajole and threaten his classmates into covering for him. He paid off a professor once, to give him a passing grade.
It would come in handy now, to know what Dredger and Henry were saying. The help of the giant came highly recommended and they needed his loyalty to further their plans.
They were gesturing towards him and it felt like they were bartering, but surely he was being egotistical and paranoid.
Henry turned to him with a smile that had nothing comforting in it. "You're going with Dredger tonight, Coward."
He blinks stupidly. "I'm sorry, what does that mean?"
"He will help us on one condition. The condition being, that you are his for the night." Henry leered at him and he gulped, looking up at the giant Frenchman with the scarred face.
He shivered. He wasn't sure if he body would be able to take it, but he sure would try.
Sometimes Coward finds Dredger's attentions sweet, pleasant, downright flattering. Other times, he wishes he'd never even heard of the Frenchman.
"Dredger, put me down! I don't need help over puddles!"
Dredger pats him on the head, rumbling something that, of course, Coward doesn't understand. He swears Dredger does it on purpose sometimes. To their right, Henry snorts loudly, clearly trying his hardest not to burst out laughing.
Coward sulkily folds his arms and pouts as only he knows how, traveling down the London street with his friend and his lover.
It's a rather annoying habit Dredger has, patting him on the head like a child.
Or a pet.
He knows enough French to realize that Dredger calls him little kitten, but really, does he have to pet him like one too?
Granted... it does feel nice sometimes.
Cursing loudly, Coward stomps into his room at the big country house. Really, Sir Thomas? The Order needs retreats now? In the rain? Shivering and just beginning to sneeze, Coward strips hurriedly out of his soaking clothes.
A knock at his door startles him. "Um, hold on a moment!" he calls loudly. Blushing, he runs to the wardrobe, pulls out a robe, and slips into it. Tying it hurriedly, he runs to the door. He opens it a bit and peeps out. "Yes?"
Dredger's on the other side of the door. Coward swallows. When Dredger asks for his wet clothes, Coward turns around to go get them from where he dropped them on the floor, forgetting that this stupid door always always always swings open if it isn't latched. He turns around, arms full of wet clothes, to see Dredger blushing a bit. He comes back and hands his burden over.
Dredger leans down and plants a little kiss on top of Coward's head, rumbles, in that accent that makes Coward's knees go a little shaky, "Robe's a little short, chaton," and walks away, leaving Coward to hurriedly close the door and lean against it, red-faced and moaning in embarrassment.
It's hard to feel superior when the person he is attempting to order around towers over him.
Not that he's intimidated.
He's been pressed against walls before, it didn't make his heart beat fast in anticipation. He didn't gasp when Dredger seemed to envelop him, warm and smelling vaguely of soot.
And his knees most certainly did not go weak when Dredger claimed his mouth with a sense of entitlement he had no right to.
Henry has had a pretty satisfying day. The new government is coming together nicely, the rebellions are being put down, and in about an hour he'll be sitting down at his favorite restaurant in London.
Humming under his breath, he opens the door to his office.
The sight of Coward's small, pale body, moaning and writhing on Henry's desk, is obscured by the massive, muscular body of Dredger. They're moaning and grunting loudly, allowing Henry to quietly back out the room, close the door, and wander dazedly back down the hall, wide-eyed and wondering if there's a spell for erasing memories.
Suddenly he isn't hungry any more.
Lord Blackwood has never been one to blush. It doesn't come naturally to him, or perhaps he's never truly been embarrassed.
However, he wishes Dredger would remember, that though Coward does not understand French, he most certainly does.
While Coward may smile up at him blankly, unaware how vulgar his utterances are, Henry is acutely aware of the fact.
He blushes for the both of them.
Dredger doesn't know how he keeps from laughing at Blackwood, but somehow he manages. Honestly, does the man really think it's an accident that he says such things when the three of them are together? Coward's face, blissfully unaware, makes it even more worth his while.
It's getting hard finding newer and more perverse ways to make Blackwood squirm, though. Dredger's run through torture, orgies, toys, bestiality, even a necrophilia suggestion or two, all in a gentle rumble that makes Coward think it's more of that romantic babble that drove him to leave France in the first place.
It's worth it though, because, though few people know it, Lord Blackwood's uncomfortable face is the most hilarious sight in the world.
Something doesn't sit quite right.
Some of the words he catches from Dredger, well, they don't sound... dignified.
So one evening, he takes out a translation book and pores over it for hours, trying to remember everything Dredger has said when Henry makes those faces. Though hilarious, they make him question what on earth Dredger is saying.
His jaw drops and he flushes with mortification.
He should probably begin learning French.
Dredger notices the day his little kitten starts understanding what he says in French. He begins to get the sense he's going to be in trouble if he goes on too much longer.
So he switches to German.
He starts learning German the day after hearing something about a boot... not that he's adverse to the idea of boots, but he'd like to know exactly what Dredger plans on doing with said boot before he agrees to it.
He gives up after a week.
German is inpenetrable.
And he prefers the French word for kitten much more than the German one.
Henry thought it was bad enough when Dredger's obscenities were in French.
It turns out the Germans are a far more creative people.
Henry despairs.
Coward begs and pleads with Dredger to stop speaking German, it's not nearly as pleasant as French.
He promises to stop trying to learn French (who knew language barriers were sexy?), and promises all manner of sexual favors to make him stop with that godawful German nonsense.
Dredger teases and refuses.
So Coward begins speaking Latin.
Dredger doesn't actually mind not being able to understand Coward, but Latin just doesn't sound as sexy as that delicious upper-crust accent. So, to appease his temperamental little kitten, Dredger switches to the sexiest language he knows.
Russian obscenities are the best.
It's a phenomenon he's never experienced before.
When Dredger speaks Russian, his brain seems to turn into mush. His body responds eagerly, however, and Henry's getting quite sick of walking in on them.
It isn't his fault Russian is irresitable.
Henry's nerves are shot, and he's jumping at shadows. His brain just isn't equipped to handle the constant threat of a surprise front-row seat to sodomy. Especially sodomy between his best friend and... whatever Dredger is.
At last he decides to change the locks to his office.
He doesn't know Dredger survived as a child on the streets of Paris by being the best lock-picker around.
Coward feels a little guilty, being party to Dredger's slow torture of Henry. It's not as though he has some exhibitionist streak.
But he does only feel a little guilty, because fuck, Russian is sexy and Henry's desk is the perfect height.
Henry's aware that he may be taking this a little too seriously, that his sanity seems to be crumbling a little bit.
Still, he thinks, pouring a thin layer of honey across the top of his desk with a stifled giggle, if this works, it'll totally be worth a bit of insanity.
Dredger slams him on Henry's desk and he moans delightedly... until the stickiness at his back registers.
He's too caught up in the feel of Dredger against him to care, but once they've finished and he tries to sit up.
He definitely cares then.
Henry feels triumphant. It's been three whole days since he's walked in on Dredger and Coward on top of his desk, and though Coward isn't speaking to him, he feels his sanity slowly being restored.
He smiles at the line of ants marching delightedly across his desk to and from the honey he missed when he wiped his desk off. "It was a good idea, wasn't it?"
There were still sticky clumped spots of honey in his hair, and his clothes sometimes stuck to his back in strange places.
Dredger found it extremely entertaining of course. He wasn't speaking to Henry and he did his best to deny Dredger his attentions.
That didn't mean he couldn't take revenge.
He spread honey on Henry's seat, and the inside of Dredger's bowler hat.
Then he went to bathe again, because dammit he was not going to walk around with honey in his hair any longer.
That night, Dredger meets Henry in a council of war. Pacts are made and oaths sworn, dark words muttered over a sticky hat.
The next morning, Coward wakes up with his hair crusted in dried honey.
He still hadn't gotten the honey from before out of his hair, and now it was turning a light, almost ginger color.
Coward pulled out his last resort weapon.
He cried.
"Oh come on, Nicholas. That's just evil." Coward keeps blubbering loudly about his hair. Henry exchanges helpless looks with Dredger. What possible defense could there be against a crying Coward?
Dredger leans forward and says, for once in English, "I could help you wash it out."
Henry did not need to hear that.
He pouts at Dredger's suggestion, because this is not something that can be easily forgiven through sex.
Coward crosses him arms and stonily refuses to answer the lewd suggestion.
Afterall, it was Dredger's fault for speaking Russian in the first place.
Dredger shrugs, tipping a wink at Henry. "I'll be in the bath, then. Alone. Naked. Speaking Russian to myself."
Henry facepalms as Dredger merrily leaves the room.
Did not need to know.
He knows this is when he should be strong, he shouldn't give in that easily. He can feel himself wavering, the thought of Dredger, in the bath, speaking Russian while washing out his hair... (and then buggering him so hard he loses his voice.)
How could he resist that?
"I'll just..." Coward gives Henry an awkward smile and scurries after Dredger.
Thankfully, he doesn't see the look on Henry's face.
D:
Henry sits down heavily in an armchair, trying desperately to ignore what he knows is about to happen a few rooms down.
He gets up and goes to his cabinet, unlocking the door.
He needs a drink.
He tangled his hands in Coward's hair, feeling himself getting closer and closer to the brink. He let a moan escape as Coward took him to the root. His lips red and shiny from his work.
Blackwood finally emptied himself into his loyal follower's mouth. He slouched against the wall, allowing it to hold him up while Coward took out an embroidered hankerchief and spit daintily into it, wiping his mouth afterwards.
"Can't you ever swallow?" Blackwood groaned.
Robert Downey Jr. yawns over his laptop, scrolling through the post. It's insane, the shit these fangirls write about.
Finding a Sherlock Holmes piece, he reads it, smirking at the image of Blackwood getting a blowjob from Coward. He should tell Hans and Mark how perceptive the fans are.
He reaches the end of the comment and finds himself nodding. "I know, man," he mutters sympathetically at his computer. "I feel you. Jude needs to work on that too."
Fandom: The Expendables
Number of fics: 2
Ratings: K+ to T
Warnings: one character death (first fic)
Characters/Pairings: Barney, wee!Expendables AU Gunnar, Ceasar, and Christmas
Barney coughs, tasting blood. The pain in his neck is incredible, but even more worrying is the numbness almost everywhere else. He grits his teeth and looks down (or maybe it's up-- he isn't too sure which is which at this point) to see that the wheel of the other truck has come through the windshield, is hovering an inch or two above his chest-- and his ringing ears are faintly picking up the sound of metal on metal as it slips closer and closer to him.
The truck finally slips and hits him, crushing his ribcage. In his last moments on earth, Barney wonders why it had to be something as stupid as a wreck while he's on a pizza run.
Sometimes Barney wonders how in the world this happened. He used to be a badass commando. He used to fuckin' kill people all over the world.
Now he's the adoptive father of six violent, insane little boys.
"Gunnar, would you stop trying to hang your brother? He's not a pirate!" Barney roars across the yard. "And Ceasar, stop playing with those scissors!" Ceasar sticks out his tongue and keeps playing with the day-glo green safety scissors.
A wail from his left informs Barney that baby Lee needs his diaper changed.
"I am so not cut out for this shit," he grumbles.
Fandom: Kick-Ass
Number of fics: 1
Ratings: T
Warnings: unrequited incest
Characters/Pairings: Chris D'amico/Frank D'amico
Chris can't help staring as his dad eats the orange, sucking and smacking on each slice so loud and hot it's gotta be illegal, juice running down his mouth for just a second until it's caught by a quick-flick tongue that has Chris' mouth dry.
Frank looks up, notices him staring. "Want a piece, kid?"
Chris swallows. "Sure, dad."
Least it'll moisten his mouth a little bit.
Fandom: RocknRolla
Number of fics: 3
Ratings: K+ to T
Characters/Pairings: Archy/Johnny Quid, Archy, Johnny Quid, Handsome Bob
When Archy hears the doorbell ring at three o'clock in the morning, he sighs, climbs reluctantly out of bed, and goes to answer it. Sure enough, there's Johnny Quid, looking skinnier and junkie-er (shut up, Archy hasn't had enough sleep) than ever. Every time this happens, Archy tells himself it's the last time. If the kid's gonna spend his food money on drugs, he's gonna have to deal with the consequences.
Yet it's with a certain sense of inevitability that Archy finds himself standing at the stove, wearing a baby blue apron, cooking mac'n'cheese.
When Archy comes home to find Johnny Quid sitting sulkily on his couch, he knows this is going to be a long night.
"Why are you here?" he asks.
"I asked a girl to sleep with me."
"...so?"
"She said no!"
"Johnny, that happens sometimes."
"Not to me, it doesn't."
"Sure it does."
"Wanna bet?"
"...no."
"Too bad. I'm gonna prove it to you." Then Johnny's coming towards him, and Archy discovers that it really is impossible to say no to Johnny.
Somehow, Archy doesn't mind long nights any more.
When Archy comes into the bar and finds Handsome Bob slumped at the bar, eyes red and voice hoarse, he doesn't say anything. He remembers who kept an eye on Johnny for him during those four years of hell. He just sits down next to Bob, orders himself a drink, and puts a gentle hand around Bob's shoulders.
Archy missed having friends.
Fandom: Get Backers
Number of fics: 3
Ratings: K+ to T
Characters/Pairings: Undead Hishiki/Amano Ginji, Akabane Kuroudo/Amano Ginji, Midou Ban, Fuuchouin Kazuki
Undead Hishiki's stamina has been a pain in Ginji's ass for years. The damn guy survives, no matter how many volts of raw energy Ginji pours into his veins, no matter how much of his power he unleashes, no matter how many buildings he and Ban-chan drop on the gigantic Protector's head.
It isn't until they tumble into bed together, Protector and Retriever, opposites attracting like the best of cliches, that Ginji realizes that Hishiki's stamina also makes him a much more literal pain in his ass.
Ginji likes Kuroudo-chan's usual outfit-- thinks the Transporter looks unbelievably hot in it, in fact-- but it does get a little dull never seeing your lover in anything but the trenchcoat-hat-smile combo that's become the good doctor's trademark as much as the scalpels and the bloody corpses. So one day, Ginji tries something new.
"Ginji-kun, where is my hat?"
"What's that? You lost your hat, Kuroudo-chan? So hopeless! You know, maybe you should go without it for the day!"
When Ginji turns up at the Honky Tonk, Ban raises an eyebrow at the impressive bandage on his partner's arm. "What happened?"
Ginji pouts. "Nothing."
Behind him, Akabane Kuroudo walks in, hat firmly in its usual place, and asks Paul, in that oh-so-polite way of his, for a cup of tea.
Usually, Kazuki conducts himself with the manners of a perfect gentleman. Sure, he fights when he needs to, and he won't deny that he enjoys it immensely, but he doesn't see the need for pointless carnage, such as that of Dr. Jackal.
Still, to steal from a helpless, blind girl, to try to violate her...
Kazuki feels pretty good about his actions as he walks away from the hapless thugs, who are screaming in pain as they try to claw the stitches out of their eyelids.
Fandom: The Great Mouse Detective
Number of fics: 3
Ratings: K+ to T
Warnings: canon character death
Characters/Pairings: Ratigan/Basil
Basil swallows hard, glaring intently past the crumpled corpse lying at the foot of the tower. He will not cry for Ratigan, damn it.
Of course, by the end of the night, he's sobbing into his pillow, shoulders shaking with loss like he's never imagined.
Ratigan has grown used to the give and take of their relationship, unconventional though it may be. He takes Basil in an alley, Basil gives him a dirty look, he takes Basil in the tavern, Basil gives him a black eye, he takes Basil on the bank of the Thames, Basil gives him a ducking...
So he's really surprised the day Basil gives him a kiss before vanishing into the London night.
Basil understands how it works. It's fierce, passionate, pleasurable, rough... it's instantly gratifying and eternally tormenting, and above all it isn't romantic.
Which is why it's weird how his front step is covered in bouquets of gorgeous flowers that all say "1 year".
Fandom: Iron Man
Number of fics: 2
Ratings: M
Characters/Pairings: Tony/car, Tony/Jarvis, Tony/toy, Tony/holographic vagina, Rhodey
Rhodey's always known Tony has a thing for cars, but coming into the garage unannounced and finding him furiously humping the hood of his latest acquisition? That's just creepy.
"Tony! Jesus Christ!"
"Ohhh, Mr. Stark!"
"...did that car just talk?"
Tony grins breathlessly. "New feature."
Jarvis sarcastically indulged Tony with the car sex, and bemusedly projected the holographic vagina Tony insisted on designing.
The day Tony brings home a Fleshlight, however, Jarvis is so insulted by being asked to lend his voice to this little escapade that he promptly turns on the emergency sprinklers.
Tony makes a quip about watersports.
Jarvis can't win.
Fandom: Redwall
Number of fics: 1
Ratings: T
Characters/Pairings: Lord Brocktree/Ungatt Trunn
Ungatt Trunn presses his advantage in the empty moonlight of the shore, pushing Lord Brocktree against the cold base of the mountain with his trident and his immense strength. The badger's muscles strain as he pushes back with his broadsword, keeping the wicked points of the trident away from his flesh.
The wildcat isn't sure how it happens, but somehow they both lose their weapons among the rocks. Paw-to-paw battle turns to wrestling on the shore, and somehow their mouths are on one another, teeth ripping savagely as they growl into the kiss, claws raking each other's flesh into blood-bright lines that put the taste of battle in the sea as it stings and nips at their skin.
Soon enough, it will be to the death.
For now, Trunn is satisfied to fight to the climax.
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Number of fics: 3 (2 mine, 1 unsettledink 's, in bold)
Ratings: T
Characters/Pairings: Captain Jack Sparrow/Kraken
A pirate isn't supposed to feel fear.
So why is Captain Jack Sparrow, master of the Black Pearl, so terrified as he faces down the Kraken?
So why is Captain Jack Sparrow, master of the Black Pearl, so terrified as he faces down the Kraken?
He sighs. Always just his luck. Miles and miles and miles of ocean, and this is the kraken that shows up?
"I gave back the bloody ring!"
He hates it when his past girlfriends find him.
Captain Jack Sparrow sits sulkily in the Kraken's maw, grumbling furiously about the injustices of the world. It opens suddenly, letting in the light as a deafening roar rattles his teeth.
Summoning all of his immense lung power, he bellow back, "I TOLD YOU, I CAN'T BE THE FATHER!"
Fics within a fandom aren't directly connected to each other unless I include someone else's comments (i.e. the_me09 's and unsettledink 's) to give the flow of the story.
Fandom: Rango
Number of fics: 5
Ratings: K+
Warnings: one character death (first fic)
Characters/Pairings: Rango, Rattlesnake Jake, Rango/Rattlesnake Jake
Rango felt his limbs getting heavier and heavier as Rattlesnake Jake slowly squeezed him to death.
"Who are you, brother?" Jake asked, tongue flickering against the chameleon's face.
And the last thought Rango had before the life left his body was, "I'm nobody."
Nowadays Rango isn't afraid of much. Dirt's doing well, the water keeps coming, and there just isn't much to get worried about.
But whenever Rattlesnake Jake turns up, starts coiling around the chameleon, asking if he's been telling tales again, asking what he's been doing lately with just one bullet, he shivers. It's a shiver that's a little fear, a little envy, and a little of something else he can't quite name. He and Jake are on peaceable terms-- in fact, it's downright friendly the way Jake keeps turning up and not killing anyone.
But Rango can't feel comfortable around the rattler. That little shiver keeps getting in the way.
Rattlesnake Jake's had a certain amount of respect for the little sheriff ever since the day he found out what ancient tortoise tastes like (quite bland, actually-- Jake was disappointed). But whenever they meet it's always Jake doing the circling, Jake doing the teasing, Jake doing the dominating, Jake in control.
Then Rango drives off a marauding hawk.
Jake isn't used to being beholden to someone.
Jake doesn't belong in Dirt, and Rango doesn't belong in the desert, but sometimes they end up somewhere between the two, out under the sky on their own. Sometimes they talk, sometimes they just sit, sometimes they fight.
Sometimes Jake sees Rango's eyes go unfocused, staring out west across the hot flatness, towards the highway they can't quite see. Rango'll just sit there, looking wistful and distant, for as long as Jake lets him.
One day Jake decides he doesn't want to let him. He moves sinuously around the lizard until he's blocking his view. "What're you looking at, brother?"
"The west," Rango replies dreamily.
"Why?"
"Wondering about the man with no-- ow!" Taking off his hat and rubbing his head, Rango glares up at the snake. "What was that for?"
Jake's tail is poised to whap Rango again as he chuckles. "Stop dreamin' about that old legend, brother. There's a new legend around here."
Rango blinks. "There is?"
Jake laughs again, settling down wrapped around the chameleon as he joins Rango in staring at the fires of the setting sun. "Oh yeah. Name of Rango."
Jake's never really been one for early mornings. He prefers to wait until the day gets good and hot before he so much as stirs. Rango, on the other hand, gets up early every morning to do his vocal exercises, before indulging in a bit of light improv. How else is he to nurture his artistic talent?
"Crunchy creamy cookie candy cupcake~"
CLINK.
Jake's gun is pointed straight at Rango's face. Still curled up, the snake mumbles, "Another sound outta you, brother, and I shoot you."
Rango, grumbling under his breath, climbs back up the slippery pile of sleepy coils and flops down next to Jake's head. "My talents will wither and die in this hostile environment," he whines.
The feel of Jake's tongue going gently up his back quiets him. "Shut up and go back to sleep, will you?"
Rango supposes a late start once in a while never hurt anybody.
Fandom: Megamind
Number of fics: 5
Ratings: K+ to T
References: "Hurt"
Characters/Pairings: Wayne Scott/Metro Man/Music Man, Bernard, Lord and Lady Scott, the Warden, Metro Man/Megamind, Megamind/Roxanne
"Get out."
"W-what?"
Lady Scott is watching, wide-eyed, from the sidelines as Lord Scott towers over their adopted son. "You heard me, boy. Out. Now. Should have done it years ago. Breaking everything we own, putting your mother in the hospital, nearly killing that girl, and now you turn up downtown after midnight at the scene of a murder? Enough. Get out of my house."
Wayne can't believe what he's hearing. He swallows, and turns on shaky legs to go to his room and pack his things. Twenty minutes later, he's outside in blood-stained pajamas, looking hopelessly up at the sky.
What's he supposed to do now?
It never occurred to Megamind that his species might reproduce differently than Roxanne's. He probably should have thought of that potential barrier before sleeping with her, but in his defense she was making thought very difficult.
He looks down at the three powder blue eggs on the bed, then back up at his girlfriend, whose hands are firmly planted on her hips.
"Well this is interesting."
Working late at the Megamind Museum, Bernard boredly glances up at the photos he wheels his cart past. Megamind in his first fight against Metro Man, Megamind defeating Tighten, Megamind shaking hands with the mayor, Megamind as a villain being apprehended by Metro Man while slapping Metro Man's ass, Megamind being interviewed by Rox--
Bernard stops, backs up, pulling the cart with him. He looks at the photo again.
He stares for a few minutes, eyebrows slowly going higher as his jaw slowly goes lower.
Eventually, he gets a hold of himself, shaking his head as he moves on. Well that explains a lot, he thinks.
Megamind didn't always have a running count of life sentences. One time a judge sentenced him to death. That didn't work out so well, though.
"Warden, the prisoner, he uh..."
"I think he's drunk, sir."
The Warden shook his head, secretly immensely relieved that the injection didn't work. "Take him back to his cell, then."
The mangled strains of AC/DC followed him all the way down the hall back to his office.
"We're getting married!" Megamind repeats, gazing sparkly-eyed at Roxanne.
Music Man nods slowly. "Okay, uh... great! Well, congratulations!" He almost winces at the false cheer in his own voice, but the love-struck couple are too absorbed in each other to notice.
That night, Music Man can't sleep. He just lies in bed, staring at the ceiling.
So much for destiny.
Fandom: Body of Lies/Dior Homme
Number of fics: 1
Ratings: T
Characters/Pairings: Hani Salaam/Dior Homme, hinted Hani Salaam/Roger Ferris
Homme was forever popping in and out of Amman, never announced, never unwelcome, because Hani liked a little spice in his life. Every time it was the same-- pretenses of suspicion, shows of enmity, and then always that moment when they fell into bed and surrendered to pure carnal comfort in each other's arms.
Which was why it was so odd the day Homme came to town and found Hani forlornly slumped at his desk, muttering to himself about Americans and lies. Homme left Amman that night, for the first time without sleeping with Hani.
Homme grinned. It was cute to see Hani in love.
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (2009)/RPF
Number of fics: 34 (18 mine, 16 the_me09 's, in bold)
Ratings: K+ to M
Characters/Pairings: Henry Blackwood, Coward/Dredger, Blackwood/Coward, Robert Downey Jr.
Coward stood in the library, staring forlornly at a book on the top shelf. He'd always hated being short, especially when The Aeneid lay a mere shelf out of his reach. He was about to go look for a ladder when a large hand settled gently on his head, and another took down the book he was staring at.
Coward turned, startled, to see Dredger smiling gently as he handed over the book. The larger man left the room silently, leaving Coward blushing behind him.
Coward boredly watches the furniture being moved around for the meeting. He hates arriving early. Nothing to do, no one to talk to, nothing to keep him occupied.
A tall, muscular figure passes in front of him, carrying an enormous wooden chair as though it were nothing. Eyes traveling up, Coward finds himself looking at the intimidating face of the Frenchman... Dredger, he believes.
Dredger puts the chair down easily, bending a bit at the waist. Coward finds his eyes wandering to the man's backside without his permission. Dredger straightens up, turns around, and catches Coward's eye.
He winks.
Coward stares up at the ceiling. His breathing is still harsh and he can't quite believe what just happened. All his muscles feel sore and stretched out.
"Le lit ensuite, mon petite chaton?" Dredger wipes his hands on his trousers.
Coward groans and pushes himself up. Moving the dresser into the room had been hard enough.
Coward has a problem-- he barely speaks a word of French. Now, in and of itself this wouldn't be a problem, but when a French giant is courting you... well. So, Coward turns to the smartest person he knows.
"Henry," he says, walking into the office with a piece of paper in his hand, "what does this mean?" He shoves his best guess at how to spell what Dredger whispered in his ear when they passed earlier today at Henry.
Henry looks for a moment, then turns bright red. Sputtering wildly, he says, "I, uh... who said this to you?"
Coward blinks. "Dredger."
Henry sits very still for a few minutes, evidently letting that one sink in. "Well," he says slowly, seeming to choose his words carefully, "just make sure you keep a lot of lube handy."
He regrets skivving off his french classes now. He'd always gotten other people to do his homework for him, managed to cajole and threaten his classmates into covering for him. He paid off a professor once, to give him a passing grade.
It would come in handy now, to know what Dredger and Henry were saying. The help of the giant came highly recommended and they needed his loyalty to further their plans.
They were gesturing towards him and it felt like they were bartering, but surely he was being egotistical and paranoid.
Henry turned to him with a smile that had nothing comforting in it. "You're going with Dredger tonight, Coward."
He blinks stupidly. "I'm sorry, what does that mean?"
"He will help us on one condition. The condition being, that you are his for the night." Henry leered at him and he gulped, looking up at the giant Frenchman with the scarred face.
He shivered. He wasn't sure if he body would be able to take it, but he sure would try.
Sometimes Coward finds Dredger's attentions sweet, pleasant, downright flattering. Other times, he wishes he'd never even heard of the Frenchman.
"Dredger, put me down! I don't need help over puddles!"
Dredger pats him on the head, rumbling something that, of course, Coward doesn't understand. He swears Dredger does it on purpose sometimes. To their right, Henry snorts loudly, clearly trying his hardest not to burst out laughing.
Coward sulkily folds his arms and pouts as only he knows how, traveling down the London street with his friend and his lover.
It's a rather annoying habit Dredger has, patting him on the head like a child.
Or a pet.
He knows enough French to realize that Dredger calls him little kitten, but really, does he have to pet him like one too?
Granted... it does feel nice sometimes.
Cursing loudly, Coward stomps into his room at the big country house. Really, Sir Thomas? The Order needs retreats now? In the rain? Shivering and just beginning to sneeze, Coward strips hurriedly out of his soaking clothes.
A knock at his door startles him. "Um, hold on a moment!" he calls loudly. Blushing, he runs to the wardrobe, pulls out a robe, and slips into it. Tying it hurriedly, he runs to the door. He opens it a bit and peeps out. "Yes?"
Dredger's on the other side of the door. Coward swallows. When Dredger asks for his wet clothes, Coward turns around to go get them from where he dropped them on the floor, forgetting that this stupid door always always always swings open if it isn't latched. He turns around, arms full of wet clothes, to see Dredger blushing a bit. He comes back and hands his burden over.
Dredger leans down and plants a little kiss on top of Coward's head, rumbles, in that accent that makes Coward's knees go a little shaky, "Robe's a little short, chaton," and walks away, leaving Coward to hurriedly close the door and lean against it, red-faced and moaning in embarrassment.
It's hard to feel superior when the person he is attempting to order around towers over him.
Not that he's intimidated.
He's been pressed against walls before, it didn't make his heart beat fast in anticipation. He didn't gasp when Dredger seemed to envelop him, warm and smelling vaguely of soot.
And his knees most certainly did not go weak when Dredger claimed his mouth with a sense of entitlement he had no right to.
Henry has had a pretty satisfying day. The new government is coming together nicely, the rebellions are being put down, and in about an hour he'll be sitting down at his favorite restaurant in London.
Humming under his breath, he opens the door to his office.
The sight of Coward's small, pale body, moaning and writhing on Henry's desk, is obscured by the massive, muscular body of Dredger. They're moaning and grunting loudly, allowing Henry to quietly back out the room, close the door, and wander dazedly back down the hall, wide-eyed and wondering if there's a spell for erasing memories.
Suddenly he isn't hungry any more.
Lord Blackwood has never been one to blush. It doesn't come naturally to him, or perhaps he's never truly been embarrassed.
However, he wishes Dredger would remember, that though Coward does not understand French, he most certainly does.
While Coward may smile up at him blankly, unaware how vulgar his utterances are, Henry is acutely aware of the fact.
He blushes for the both of them.
Dredger doesn't know how he keeps from laughing at Blackwood, but somehow he manages. Honestly, does the man really think it's an accident that he says such things when the three of them are together? Coward's face, blissfully unaware, makes it even more worth his while.
It's getting hard finding newer and more perverse ways to make Blackwood squirm, though. Dredger's run through torture, orgies, toys, bestiality, even a necrophilia suggestion or two, all in a gentle rumble that makes Coward think it's more of that romantic babble that drove him to leave France in the first place.
It's worth it though, because, though few people know it, Lord Blackwood's uncomfortable face is the most hilarious sight in the world.
Something doesn't sit quite right.
Some of the words he catches from Dredger, well, they don't sound... dignified.
So one evening, he takes out a translation book and pores over it for hours, trying to remember everything Dredger has said when Henry makes those faces. Though hilarious, they make him question what on earth Dredger is saying.
His jaw drops and he flushes with mortification.
He should probably begin learning French.
Dredger notices the day his little kitten starts understanding what he says in French. He begins to get the sense he's going to be in trouble if he goes on too much longer.
So he switches to German.
He starts learning German the day after hearing something about a boot... not that he's adverse to the idea of boots, but he'd like to know exactly what Dredger plans on doing with said boot before he agrees to it.
He gives up after a week.
German is inpenetrable.
And he prefers the French word for kitten much more than the German one.
Henry thought it was bad enough when Dredger's obscenities were in French.
It turns out the Germans are a far more creative people.
Henry despairs.
Coward begs and pleads with Dredger to stop speaking German, it's not nearly as pleasant as French.
He promises to stop trying to learn French (who knew language barriers were sexy?), and promises all manner of sexual favors to make him stop with that godawful German nonsense.
Dredger teases and refuses.
So Coward begins speaking Latin.
Dredger doesn't actually mind not being able to understand Coward, but Latin just doesn't sound as sexy as that delicious upper-crust accent. So, to appease his temperamental little kitten, Dredger switches to the sexiest language he knows.
Russian obscenities are the best.
It's a phenomenon he's never experienced before.
When Dredger speaks Russian, his brain seems to turn into mush. His body responds eagerly, however, and Henry's getting quite sick of walking in on them.
It isn't his fault Russian is irresitable.
Henry's nerves are shot, and he's jumping at shadows. His brain just isn't equipped to handle the constant threat of a surprise front-row seat to sodomy. Especially sodomy between his best friend and... whatever Dredger is.
At last he decides to change the locks to his office.
He doesn't know Dredger survived as a child on the streets of Paris by being the best lock-picker around.
Coward feels a little guilty, being party to Dredger's slow torture of Henry. It's not as though he has some exhibitionist streak.
But he does only feel a little guilty, because fuck, Russian is sexy and Henry's desk is the perfect height.
Henry's aware that he may be taking this a little too seriously, that his sanity seems to be crumbling a little bit.
Still, he thinks, pouring a thin layer of honey across the top of his desk with a stifled giggle, if this works, it'll totally be worth a bit of insanity.
Dredger slams him on Henry's desk and he moans delightedly... until the stickiness at his back registers.
He's too caught up in the feel of Dredger against him to care, but once they've finished and he tries to sit up.
He definitely cares then.
Henry feels triumphant. It's been three whole days since he's walked in on Dredger and Coward on top of his desk, and though Coward isn't speaking to him, he feels his sanity slowly being restored.
He smiles at the line of ants marching delightedly across his desk to and from the honey he missed when he wiped his desk off. "It was a good idea, wasn't it?"
There were still sticky clumped spots of honey in his hair, and his clothes sometimes stuck to his back in strange places.
Dredger found it extremely entertaining of course. He wasn't speaking to Henry and he did his best to deny Dredger his attentions.
That didn't mean he couldn't take revenge.
He spread honey on Henry's seat, and the inside of Dredger's bowler hat.
Then he went to bathe again, because dammit he was not going to walk around with honey in his hair any longer.
That night, Dredger meets Henry in a council of war. Pacts are made and oaths sworn, dark words muttered over a sticky hat.
The next morning, Coward wakes up with his hair crusted in dried honey.
He still hadn't gotten the honey from before out of his hair, and now it was turning a light, almost ginger color.
Coward pulled out his last resort weapon.
He cried.
"Oh come on, Nicholas. That's just evil." Coward keeps blubbering loudly about his hair. Henry exchanges helpless looks with Dredger. What possible defense could there be against a crying Coward?
Dredger leans forward and says, for once in English, "I could help you wash it out."
Henry did not need to hear that.
He pouts at Dredger's suggestion, because this is not something that can be easily forgiven through sex.
Coward crosses him arms and stonily refuses to answer the lewd suggestion.
Afterall, it was Dredger's fault for speaking Russian in the first place.
Dredger shrugs, tipping a wink at Henry. "I'll be in the bath, then. Alone. Naked. Speaking Russian to myself."
Henry facepalms as Dredger merrily leaves the room.
Did not need to know.
He knows this is when he should be strong, he shouldn't give in that easily. He can feel himself wavering, the thought of Dredger, in the bath, speaking Russian while washing out his hair... (and then buggering him so hard he loses his voice.)
How could he resist that?
"I'll just..." Coward gives Henry an awkward smile and scurries after Dredger.
Thankfully, he doesn't see the look on Henry's face.
D:
Henry sits down heavily in an armchair, trying desperately to ignore what he knows is about to happen a few rooms down.
He gets up and goes to his cabinet, unlocking the door.
He needs a drink.
He tangled his hands in Coward's hair, feeling himself getting closer and closer to the brink. He let a moan escape as Coward took him to the root. His lips red and shiny from his work.
Blackwood finally emptied himself into his loyal follower's mouth. He slouched against the wall, allowing it to hold him up while Coward took out an embroidered hankerchief and spit daintily into it, wiping his mouth afterwards.
"Can't you ever swallow?" Blackwood groaned.
Robert Downey Jr. yawns over his laptop, scrolling through the post. It's insane, the shit these fangirls write about.
Finding a Sherlock Holmes piece, he reads it, smirking at the image of Blackwood getting a blowjob from Coward. He should tell Hans and Mark how perceptive the fans are.
He reaches the end of the comment and finds himself nodding. "I know, man," he mutters sympathetically at his computer. "I feel you. Jude needs to work on that too."
Fandom: The Expendables
Number of fics: 2
Ratings: K+ to T
Warnings: one character death (first fic)
Characters/Pairings: Barney, wee!Expendables AU Gunnar, Ceasar, and Christmas
Barney coughs, tasting blood. The pain in his neck is incredible, but even more worrying is the numbness almost everywhere else. He grits his teeth and looks down (or maybe it's up-- he isn't too sure which is which at this point) to see that the wheel of the other truck has come through the windshield, is hovering an inch or two above his chest-- and his ringing ears are faintly picking up the sound of metal on metal as it slips closer and closer to him.
The truck finally slips and hits him, crushing his ribcage. In his last moments on earth, Barney wonders why it had to be something as stupid as a wreck while he's on a pizza run.
Sometimes Barney wonders how in the world this happened. He used to be a badass commando. He used to fuckin' kill people all over the world.
Now he's the adoptive father of six violent, insane little boys.
"Gunnar, would you stop trying to hang your brother? He's not a pirate!" Barney roars across the yard. "And Ceasar, stop playing with those scissors!" Ceasar sticks out his tongue and keeps playing with the day-glo green safety scissors.
A wail from his left informs Barney that baby Lee needs his diaper changed.
"I am so not cut out for this shit," he grumbles.
Fandom: Kick-Ass
Number of fics: 1
Ratings: T
Warnings: unrequited incest
Characters/Pairings: Chris D'amico/Frank D'amico
Chris can't help staring as his dad eats the orange, sucking and smacking on each slice so loud and hot it's gotta be illegal, juice running down his mouth for just a second until it's caught by a quick-flick tongue that has Chris' mouth dry.
Frank looks up, notices him staring. "Want a piece, kid?"
Chris swallows. "Sure, dad."
Least it'll moisten his mouth a little bit.
Fandom: RocknRolla
Number of fics: 3
Ratings: K+ to T
Characters/Pairings: Archy/Johnny Quid, Archy, Johnny Quid, Handsome Bob
When Archy hears the doorbell ring at three o'clock in the morning, he sighs, climbs reluctantly out of bed, and goes to answer it. Sure enough, there's Johnny Quid, looking skinnier and junkie-er (shut up, Archy hasn't had enough sleep) than ever. Every time this happens, Archy tells himself it's the last time. If the kid's gonna spend his food money on drugs, he's gonna have to deal with the consequences.
Yet it's with a certain sense of inevitability that Archy finds himself standing at the stove, wearing a baby blue apron, cooking mac'n'cheese.
When Archy comes home to find Johnny Quid sitting sulkily on his couch, he knows this is going to be a long night.
"Why are you here?" he asks.
"I asked a girl to sleep with me."
"...so?"
"She said no!"
"Johnny, that happens sometimes."
"Not to me, it doesn't."
"Sure it does."
"Wanna bet?"
"...no."
"Too bad. I'm gonna prove it to you." Then Johnny's coming towards him, and Archy discovers that it really is impossible to say no to Johnny.
Somehow, Archy doesn't mind long nights any more.
When Archy comes into the bar and finds Handsome Bob slumped at the bar, eyes red and voice hoarse, he doesn't say anything. He remembers who kept an eye on Johnny for him during those four years of hell. He just sits down next to Bob, orders himself a drink, and puts a gentle hand around Bob's shoulders.
Archy missed having friends.
Fandom: Get Backers
Number of fics: 3
Ratings: K+ to T
Characters/Pairings: Undead Hishiki/Amano Ginji, Akabane Kuroudo/Amano Ginji, Midou Ban, Fuuchouin Kazuki
Undead Hishiki's stamina has been a pain in Ginji's ass for years. The damn guy survives, no matter how many volts of raw energy Ginji pours into his veins, no matter how much of his power he unleashes, no matter how many buildings he and Ban-chan drop on the gigantic Protector's head.
It isn't until they tumble into bed together, Protector and Retriever, opposites attracting like the best of cliches, that Ginji realizes that Hishiki's stamina also makes him a much more literal pain in his ass.
Ginji likes Kuroudo-chan's usual outfit-- thinks the Transporter looks unbelievably hot in it, in fact-- but it does get a little dull never seeing your lover in anything but the trenchcoat-hat-smile combo that's become the good doctor's trademark as much as the scalpels and the bloody corpses. So one day, Ginji tries something new.
"Ginji-kun, where is my hat?"
"What's that? You lost your hat, Kuroudo-chan? So hopeless! You know, maybe you should go without it for the day!"
When Ginji turns up at the Honky Tonk, Ban raises an eyebrow at the impressive bandage on his partner's arm. "What happened?"
Ginji pouts. "Nothing."
Behind him, Akabane Kuroudo walks in, hat firmly in its usual place, and asks Paul, in that oh-so-polite way of his, for a cup of tea.
Usually, Kazuki conducts himself with the manners of a perfect gentleman. Sure, he fights when he needs to, and he won't deny that he enjoys it immensely, but he doesn't see the need for pointless carnage, such as that of Dr. Jackal.
Still, to steal from a helpless, blind girl, to try to violate her...
Kazuki feels pretty good about his actions as he walks away from the hapless thugs, who are screaming in pain as they try to claw the stitches out of their eyelids.
Fandom: The Great Mouse Detective
Number of fics: 3
Ratings: K+ to T
Warnings: canon character death
Characters/Pairings: Ratigan/Basil
Basil swallows hard, glaring intently past the crumpled corpse lying at the foot of the tower. He will not cry for Ratigan, damn it.
Of course, by the end of the night, he's sobbing into his pillow, shoulders shaking with loss like he's never imagined.
Ratigan has grown used to the give and take of their relationship, unconventional though it may be. He takes Basil in an alley, Basil gives him a dirty look, he takes Basil in the tavern, Basil gives him a black eye, he takes Basil on the bank of the Thames, Basil gives him a ducking...
So he's really surprised the day Basil gives him a kiss before vanishing into the London night.
Basil understands how it works. It's fierce, passionate, pleasurable, rough... it's instantly gratifying and eternally tormenting, and above all it isn't romantic.
Which is why it's weird how his front step is covered in bouquets of gorgeous flowers that all say "1 year".
Fandom: Iron Man
Number of fics: 2
Ratings: M
Characters/Pairings: Tony/car, Tony/Jarvis, Tony/toy, Tony/holographic vagina, Rhodey
Rhodey's always known Tony has a thing for cars, but coming into the garage unannounced and finding him furiously humping the hood of his latest acquisition? That's just creepy.
"Tony! Jesus Christ!"
"Ohhh, Mr. Stark!"
"...did that car just talk?"
Tony grins breathlessly. "New feature."
Jarvis sarcastically indulged Tony with the car sex, and bemusedly projected the holographic vagina Tony insisted on designing.
The day Tony brings home a Fleshlight, however, Jarvis is so insulted by being asked to lend his voice to this little escapade that he promptly turns on the emergency sprinklers.
Tony makes a quip about watersports.
Jarvis can't win.
Fandom: Redwall
Number of fics: 1
Ratings: T
Characters/Pairings: Lord Brocktree/Ungatt Trunn
Ungatt Trunn presses his advantage in the empty moonlight of the shore, pushing Lord Brocktree against the cold base of the mountain with his trident and his immense strength. The badger's muscles strain as he pushes back with his broadsword, keeping the wicked points of the trident away from his flesh.
The wildcat isn't sure how it happens, but somehow they both lose their weapons among the rocks. Paw-to-paw battle turns to wrestling on the shore, and somehow their mouths are on one another, teeth ripping savagely as they growl into the kiss, claws raking each other's flesh into blood-bright lines that put the taste of battle in the sea as it stings and nips at their skin.
Soon enough, it will be to the death.
For now, Trunn is satisfied to fight to the climax.
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Number of fics: 3 (2 mine, 1 unsettledink 's, in bold)
Ratings: T
Characters/Pairings: Captain Jack Sparrow/Kraken
A pirate isn't supposed to feel fear.
So why is Captain Jack Sparrow, master of the Black Pearl, so terrified as he faces down the Kraken?
So why is Captain Jack Sparrow, master of the Black Pearl, so terrified as he faces down the Kraken?
He sighs. Always just his luck. Miles and miles and miles of ocean, and this is the kraken that shows up?
"I gave back the bloody ring!"
He hates it when his past girlfriends find him.
Captain Jack Sparrow sits sulkily in the Kraken's maw, grumbling furiously about the injustices of the world. It opens suddenly, letting in the light as a deafening roar rattles his teeth.
Summoning all of his immense lung power, he bellow back, "I TOLD YOU, I CAN'T BE THE FATHER!"