So, I have several posts I've been meaning to make this weekend, and I also got run off the computer already today. I'm hoping to get back on after everyone else goes to bed & finish the awesome fic I'm betareading and get to work on some other things.
In the meantime, how about some long overdue ficlets? Mucho gracias to
irisgirl12000 for looking these over for me.
225 words for
jackiesjunkie: Jepha, snowflake, tea, scarf
Jeph regularly thought they were getting too old for this shit, but he tried not to say it out loud. Keeping it to himself didn't make it any less true, but it did spare him from Bert crawling into his lap and attempting to change his mind with sloppy kisses.
Jeph was sitting at the tiny table, a cup of tea in his hands, watching as Dan and Quinn wrestled over the game controller. They had been bickering over anything and everything all morning. Jeph blamed the weather; it seemed the first argument had involved the ownership of a certain fanmade scarf when the first snowflake fell. Days like today, Jeph couldn't wait to get to the venue, couldn't wait to be able to put more than a dozen feet between himself and the rest of the band. He loved them, really, but... Too old for this shit.
Bert, as if he could read Jeph's mind, appeared and took the cup away from Jeph. "Quit being such a boring old fucker; let's go steal the game away from them."
Jeph had to work to hide his grin, to pretend like he was irritated about it, but he went along with Bert's plan. Getting old or not, they were still having fun. And he could still kick everyone's asses at nine out of ten video games.
400 words,
gelsey's rarepair challenge: Draco/Luna; "Each night the moon kisses secretly the lover who counts the stars." -Rumi; whisper, darkness; Somewhere Out There - Linda Rondstadt
Luna likes the quiet blanket of darkness, the forest lit with the sparse flickering light reflected from the torches around the dragon pens. The dragons themselves are quiet except the occasional snort, and the other handlers are all in their quarters.
Luna doesn't wander far. Charlie Weasley had pulled big brother authority on her the first day and set boundaries, despite the fact she is a fully trained dragon healer. She doesn't complain, though, because it's been far too long since her father was around to enforce, or even make, such rules. Besides, Charlie never pushed, never asked about Luna's obvious obsession with the stars, never asked about the Slytherin green bracelet that was her one consistent accessory.
The moon is at an angle, peeking through the trees and barely illuminating the floor of Luna's favorite clearing. However, she has a perfect view of the stars she's looking for. She thinks of the night before she left for Romania, laying on the roof of the small house she had been sharing in secret for months, the place she had been spending most of her time in despite the fact there was a perfectly good flat with her name on the lease across town. She thinks of the quiet arguments and the even quieter kisses, neither of which did anything to convince her that they were wrong. She didn’t agree that he was bad for her, didn’t want to break up.
She remembers Draco sighing when she wouldn't back down, but it sounded more relieved than exasperated. He placed a feather light kiss against the pulse point in her wrist before fastening the bracelet around it, a gift that was probably meant as a parting remembrance but instead served as a reminder of what Luna had waiting for her. Of who she had waiting at home. He had then pointed out each star in the Draconis constellation, numbering them and listing a reason he loved her for each of them.
Now she sits and recounts those stars alone, just as she counts the days until her apprenticeship is finished and she can return to Hogwarts to help tend the dragons being introduced with their new curriculum. She wonders if Draco is doing the same thing, thinking of her each time he looks at these same stars, this same sky. Forty two days, then they can share more than just a sky.
400 words for
harriet_vane: Johnny/Evan, honeymoon
Evan wasn't really a spur-of-the-moment guy, so when Johnny half-jokingly asked him to elope, he almost fell out of his chair in surprise when Evan shrugged and said, "Sure, why not."
Johnny had just gotten home after a long week of publicity meetings and could very well have been suffering from auditory hallucinations. "Evan, did you hear what I asked you?"
Evan set down his game controller and turned to face Johnny. "Yes, Johnny, I heard what you asked me. You asked if I wanted to elope this weekend, and my answer was 'sure, why not?'. That is, assuming you meant eloping with you. I sure as shit can't think of anyone else I'd be marrying."
Johnny tried not to let his complete shock deter him. That’s probably what Evan was expecting, and Johnny was an advocate of doing the unexpected. He was also an excellent party planner, so it didn’t take him long to throw together a wedding - they were eloping, but that didn’t mean it had to be boring - and convince Tara to fly out to meet them. It wouldn’t be fair to invite his parents and not Evan’s, but it wouldn’t be a drama free elopement with Evan’s mother involved, so settling for Tara taking pictures was the compromise. Besides, they could totally have a fancy reception later, when it was too late to undo their vows.
It wasn’t until after the wedding that Johnny started getting suspicious. Evan was extremely smug, even for someone who was wearing a ring that proclaimed to the world he belonged to Johnny Weir, as they got in their rental car and headed in the direction opposite the airport. He wouldn’t let Johnny drive, but that wasn’t anything new. Johnny fell asleep on the drive, only waking up when the car shut off. They were at a secluded mountain lodge, and the surprises were piling up as it was revealed that Evan had booked the honeymoon cabin for them, completely stocked, and he’d even had their clothes sent up.
Johnny didn’t think they’d need the clothes, though. This was their honeymoon, after all.
Johnny was suitably demonstrative with his appreciation even as he used his wiles to strip away Evan’s smugness. Afterward, freshly showed and dozing on the bed, he asked Evan how he’d managed to plan all this.
Evan just laughed. “You are far more predictable than you think.”
200 words for
irisgirl12000: something Bogart-related about the Discos recording their new album? I'm imagining doggy sounds somehow making their way into the list of weird background noises on this album.
Spencer had agreed that it was easier to set up recording equipment in the kitchen rather than try and replicate everything later when Brendon had a flash of "fucking A, Spence, that'd sound awesome as background on the mermaid song", but sometimes it was more trouble than it was worth. Like now, when he was trying to capture the combined sound of sizzling not!bacon and the rhythmic tapping of his spatula against the side of the pan. It was going so well since he had exiled Brendon outside until Bogart came running in, chasing a tennis ball and skidding across the floor. Spencer sighed and chalked it up to a lost cause. There were only so many BLTs he could eat.
Brendon slid into the kitchen after Bogart, though, laughing and ruining every bit of irritation Spencer had. “Spence, Spencer, did you hear that?” Spencer rolled his eyes, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to go along with whatever Brendon wanted. It was a common theme in his life.
At least there wasn’t any food going to waste when they were recording backtrack of Bogart’s nails skittering across the tiles and the bounce of a ball against the floor.
600 words for
arielchan: werewolf!Empires
Sometimes Tom really missed being able to sneak off and sulk in peace. There were just those days when everything was going wrong and he wanted to be left alone, and it just wasn't possible. He had given up his apartment to Nick after the still-being-investigated explosion of Nick's own, and even though it was mostly empty by then (the rest of his belongings hadn't lasted there long after Sean stole his coffeemaker), it meant he had no place that was his and his alone. He would never think of complaining about his current living arrangements, but when he was in a funk he needed to be able to change and curl up somewhere that wasn't on his dinosaur sheets in a bed that smelled as much of Ryan and Sean as it did of him.
Today was one of those days, and Tom almost pitied anyone who crossed his path on his way home from work. He was pretty sure he actually growled at a little girl that bumped into him and immediately felt bad about it. But.
When he reached the house, he stood at the bottom of the front steps, hesitating. Tuesday night was the one night of the week Ryan was consistently granted off, and that meant takeout and Tivo and a cuddle pile on the floor. It also meant Tom wasn't going to be able to avoid his packmates once he walked in the door.
They were all tuned in to one another, so he shouldn’t have been surprised when Max appeared at the front door. “You gonna stay outside all night? Because we have a surprise for you.”
Tom sighed and walked up the stairs, noticing how Max was very obviously not touching him, although he was more cuddly than the others most of the time. Sean and Ryan were both grinning at him just behind Max. Al was nowhere to be seen, but that was more and more common lately.
“So, you know how you’re a grumpy bastard sometimes?” Ryan asked cheerfully, brushing his hair away from his eyes and then immediately realizing his mistake and hiding his arm behind his back. He wasn’t quick enough for Tom to miss the bandage on his arm, but he’d figure that out later.
“You mean like right now?” Tom asked, challenge clear in his tone.
“Yup,” Sean said, gesturing toward the basement door. “C’mon.”
Tom led the way downstairs and stopped short at the bottom. There were two rooms set off to the side of the main basement area - one they kept talking about soundproofing and turning into a music studio and the other that had been mainly used for storage since Max took a bedroom upstairs. The storage room had been cleaned out, and there was a mattress on the floor piled high with pillows and quilts. The rest of the room was bare except for one picture on the freshly painted walls - a picture of their pack. “So you can remember that you’re ours even while you’re moping,” Ryan pointed out.
Tom stared at each of them in turn. “You guys made me a room of my own?”
“No, a room to hide in when you need to,” Sean corrected. “Your room is still upstairs. This is just so you can be alone when you feel you have to be, but you’ll be close enough that we can keep an eye on you.”
Tom shook his head, smiling. Sometimes, he wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve this pack, but most of the time he was just glad they’d made him theirs.