WAFF-a-thon 2012 - Main Thread!

[tiptoe39]

And if we all could spread a little sunshine
All could lend a helping hand
We all would be a little closer
To the Promised Land

WAFFathon 2012 Official Thread

Welcome, everyone, to the fourth official WAFFathon, making the Internet a little happier. The premise behind the WAFFathon is simple: Fandom is great, but let's face it, it can get pretty dark around here at times. Not to mention that it rains absolute CRAP on the characters we most love. So to make their not-quite-canon lives a little better, and to increase the per-capita volume of Warm and Fuzzy Feelings (WAFF for short) on these here intertubes, the WAFFathon has arrived!

This year I'm upping the ante by putting my money where my WAFF is... see more behind the cut!

How to Play:

1)  Comment with a fandom, a pairing, and a prompt. Your prompt can be specific, general, vague, cryptic, silly, goofy, OOC, AU, sexy, anything you like, so long as it brings a little sunshine in the end.

2) Find a prompt you like and make something fluffy and feel-goody out of it. Fanfic, fanart, manips, icons, vids, fanmixes, motis and macros, and anything else creative are all welcome. Adult content is also welcome, but remember that the goal is to be WAFFy!

3) Post it (or a link to it) in the comments.

4) Watch people's lives light up!

The Rules:

1) Provide lots of encouragement to the creators. Feedback. Compliment. Hug. Friend. Mem. It's good karma.

2) This meme will be very lightly policed, but policed it will be. So behave. No trashing of others, fandoms, ships, chars, stories, or the meme writ large will be tolerated. Friendly concrit or suggestions are fine, but keep in mind that we are trying to make people happy, not insecure. As your Moddess Goddess(TM), I reserve the right to do what I feel I need to do. Which I hope will be nothing, but which you are hereby forewarned can change depending on my very mercurial mood. So... like I said. Behave.

3) I have no end date in sight for this meme, but I suggest keeping it a weeklong activity.

4) You are more than welcome to crosspost your creative works wherever you like. It should go without saying that taking someone else's work and passing it off as your own elsewhere is unacceptable by any definition. I refer folks to stop_plagiarism   as a good place to follow up on any problems that might occur.

Make the world even happier!

A couple of extra things you can do if you want to make everyone happier:

1) Readers/viewers: If you find an author/creative person you like, go back through their other works and comment on them, or rec their works on your journal. Creative people love feedback and it's especially gratifying when you get feedback on something you thought was lost to time and when someone likes your work enough to recommend it to his or her friends.

2) Creators: be sure to thank readers for their time and energy spent on your work. Friend them if they've friended you or recced you. One of the great things about fan-creative communities is the proximity you can have to the people you admire and respect. We don't get to have conversations with Joss and Kripke and the rest, but we can talk to each other and that's even cooler.

3) Pimp this meme to any friends or communities you think would be interested. You can find banners and code at the Banner Thread. Hotlink your little hearts out!

 
4) If you're feeling really encouraged, please consider making the world a better place on behalf of the fandom community.

CLICK!

DONATE!
ASPCA * Random Acts * International Committee of the Red Cross * America's Second Harvest * Humane Society International * UNICEF * American Cancer Society * Oxfam * Amnesty International

THIS YEAR I WILL BE DONATING $1 FOR EVERY COMMENT THE WAFF-A-THON RECEIVES, BE IT A PROMPT, A FILL, OR FEEDBACK, UP TO A $500 MAXIMUM!

I will split the money evenly among Random Acts, the ASPCA, and the Red Cross. Make me too poor to attend DragonCon this year :) (Please note that your comment has to be a genuinely happifying comment in order to count toward the total!)

(I know we're all poor in fandom, but we're actually very rich!)

5) Tell someone you love today how much you care for and appreciate them, and remember: Happiness is a completely renewable energy source!

THANKS TO...

...perdiccas   and oxoniensis   for hosting similar memes in the past that I've participated in. You guys set up the model for me to build on.

... triedunture, hils, wickedvirtue, sinnerforhire, ibonekoen, kijikun, peppervl, peroxidepest17, takadainmate, heard_the_owl, darth_firefly, melalucci, mithrel, jaune_chat, noshinori, bballgirl3022, gwendolynd, wolfrider89, ratherastory, princess_aleera, nicole_sill, and aerilex for cheering for the idea and volunteering to leave prompts, fill prompts, and/or pimp.

...YOU! for reading and writing!

Happy happifying!

Comments

Fandom; Supernatural

[darth-firefly.livejournal.com]

Every year on his birthday, Dean's put the same set of plastic balloons on whatever form of birthday cake he has. He's gotten pretty sick of the stupid balloons by now until he finds out where his brother found them -

- where did Dean find them? And why does he insist on those silly balloons after all these years?

So it's not super waffy - unless you can make it waffy.

Wincest is fine, if the adopter of this plot bunny is so inclined.

FILLED: Sam/Dean, balloons on birthday cake

[ladyeternal.livejournal.com]

Posted to my comm, aeternitas_nox

Summary: Sometimes, even the simplest gestures have more meaning than we think they do. (http://aeternitas-nox.livejournal.com/23602.html)

Supernatural, Dean/Castiel, kidfic

[bballgirl3022.livejournal.com]

Dean/Castiel, kidfic in any shape or form. Just Dean and Cas being adorable with their children

Re: Supernatural, Dean/Castiel, kidfic

[mithrel.livejournal.com]

Dean tries yet again to get Mary to stop crying. Stupid colic. He’s tried everything–walking up and down the stairs, running the vacuum and washing machine (he needed to clean anyway), singing to her–nothing works.

And her crying is putting Bobby on edge, which puts him further on edge. “Daddy!” he whines. “Make it stop!”

If only it was that easy. He wishes Cas were here, since he’s always able to calm the kids down, but he’s at work, and how Dean was the one to become Mr. Mom he doesn’t know.

So he takes Bobby into the living room, puts on Thomas the Tank Engine and goes back to trying to get Mary quiet. She’s gotta be exhausted by now; she missed her nap in the afternoon.

Mary whimpers at him, and he rubs her back. “I know, sweetheart, I know.”

A half hour later Cas gets back and raises an eyebrow at the vacuum in the middle of the hall, the music from the kitchen radio, the sound of the TV coming from the living room and Dean standing in the middle of it all trying to soothe his crying daughter.

He doesn’t say anything, just takes Mary from Dean and whispers to her, and, wonder of wonders, the crying stops. Dean feels his blood pressure go down about five points. Cas goes to Mary’s room and returns a moment later empty-handed, turns off the radio, puts the vacuum away and only then turns to Dean.

“Rough day?”

“You have no idea!”

Cas smiles slightly and kisses him. “I’ll take care of dinner. Something tells me Mary’s not the only one to need a nap.”

Marveling again at the fact that he’d somehow ended up with this despite everything, he smiles back at Cas. “Have I mentioned how awesome you are?”

Cas only chuckles. “Not today.”

Fandom: Sherlock, Sherlock+John

[triedunture.livejournal.com]

Domestic!fic with the boys being especially sweet (in their own way) to Mrs Hudson.

[angel-kink.livejournal.com]

A newly human Castiel has his first nightmare. Dean luls him back to sleep. :3

[yourgracewasted.livejournal.com]

Dean had essentially taught the angel how to sleep. Castiel had been tired but it only took the spanse of two minutes of Dean having to watch him lay there rigidly in the bed before he told him to get comfortable, move around. It was no secret that Cas had watched the hunter sleep before, so he began mimicking Dean's mannerisms in sleep. They shared a bed often, Sam claiming he was just too damn big for it. So when the odd foot in his knee turned into and arm over his shoulders or a leg over his thighs Dean didn't complain. And when it turned into nightly spooning, with Cas' nose resting in Dean's hairline he didn't push him off, because really when was the last time Dean had been touched affectionately?

It was such a night that Dean was laying awake, listening to Cas' gentle breathing right in his ear when the nightmare came. The former angel's entire body clenched, tightening his grip on the hunter to the point where Dean gasped for air. He tried to break free but Cas had him in a vice. He twisted around as Castiel began shuddering against him. The sleeping man had sweat in his hair line and his face was scrunched together as if in pain.

"Hey, hey," Dean whispered, assuming Sammy was still in the bed opposite. Castiel's eyes were leaking large tears and Dean wiped them away with a thumb as he tried to wake him gently. "Cas, come on man, you're dreaming."

Cas' eyes jolted open, a look of shock and fear on his face, lips parted slightly. He fisted the hunter's t-shirt a few times before relaxing enough that Dean could move. Dean sighed as he righted himself and leaned against the headboard, noting Sam isn't in his bed. "Bad dream?"

Cas nodded quickly before running a hand over his face. He looked at his fingers like he'd never seen sweat or tears before and it occurred to Dean that he had probably never seen his own. "I've never had one before."

Dean gives a sympathetic face. "I've had some pretty bad ones in my time."

"I know," Cas looks up to him. "I used to prevent or stop them when I could."

Dean mulls over the new information with a frown."I didn't know that."

"What do people do, when they can't stop them from happening?" Cas looks genuinely worried and Dean wants desperately to fix it for him. He slides his arm under Cas' shoulders and tugs him to him so he's mostly laying on his chest. Without really thinking about it, he presses a kiss into Cas' forehead.

"They do this, Cas."

Supernatural, Dean/Cas

[triedunture.livejournal.com]

Dean doesn't think his soul is anything to write home about, so Cas tries to describe it to him.

Re: Supernatural, Dean/Cas PART 1

[angel-kink.livejournal.com]

Dean jerked awake from another Hell related nightmare gasping for air and clutching at his chest. The dreams were coming less frequent now, but they were still jarring and physically painful. He’d wake up in a sweat with his heart pounding and his breath ragged like he’d just run a marathon. It would take a moment for the dream itself to flood back to it and when it did it took all of Dean’s willpower to stop himself from throwing up. This time was no different. The dream, well, a memory, really, of the first time he picked up the knife…

“Dean.” The hunter jumped at the sound of Cas’ voice.

“Christ!” he shouted as he clutched onto his chest. His heart rate was even higher than it was after waking up from the nightmare and he was sure it was going to just explode at some point in the near future. He took a moment to compose himself trying his best to will his breathing back to a normal rhythm. He looked around the room to try and figure out what time it was. No Sam. Sunlight in the windows. No sound in the bathroom. He must be getting breakfast or coffee or something or maybe Dean had slept in way too late or…

“He’s at the diner down the road. It’s nearly 9:00am.”

“What’d I tell you about poking around in my head, Cas?” When Dean felt that his heart rate was down at a somewhat normal rate he shifted so that his back was against the headboard. There was no way he was going to get back to sleep now so he might as well make himself comfortable.

“How else am I to understand you if you won’t verbalize your concerns to me?”

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed. “Don’t know why you want to understand me so bad anyway...”

“You’re my charge,” Castiel said as if it explained everything.

“I’m your assignment,” Dean snapped.

“You’re more than that, Dean,” Cas said as he tilted his head, obviously confused by Dean’s reaction. “Why do you think so little of yourself?”

Dean just shook his head. Cas was insistent. He had to give him that. Sometimes it really seemed like Cas cared. He asked questions, showed concern, just generally seemed interested in all things Dean Winchester. But he had to remember that he was just an assignment. He was the ‘righteous man’- whatever the fuck that meant- whose damaged and battered soul was pulled from the pit. It couldn’t have been a job that anyone would have volunteered for. Who’d want to touch a soul so damaged-

“Dean...” Castiel had somehow scooted closer to him on the edge of the bed. Dean had been so lost in his own thought he hadn’t really noticed. “Your soul isn’t damaged.”

“Dammit, Cas. Stop it with the mind reading.”

Before Dean could say another word Cas’ hand was on his chest. The touch was light, fingers just barely pressing against the fabric of his shirt, but the intensity in his eyes as he looked at where his fingers were touching was overpowering. Once again Dean’s heart rate spiked, but this time it wasn’t out of fear. He wasn’t sure what Castiel was doing, but he trusted him. Even stranger, he found himself enjoying the closeness. He wasn’t quite sure why, though.

“I can see it…”

“What… see what?”

“Your soul.” Castiel spread his fingers across Dean’s chest slightly. “It’s bright. It’s intensity is almost blinding. Holding your soul within my grace was the most profound experience in my entire existence…” When Castiel met Dean’s eyes he pulled his hand back slightly and looked slightly embarrassed. “I’m sorry… forgive me…”

Fandom: Glee/White Collar

[ibonekoen]

Neal hasn't seen his baby brother Blaine since Blaine was seven. Now they've been reunited and there's one thing Neal's missed more than anything -- his little brother's hugs.

FILL: Homecoming King (Glee/White Collar crossover, some Blaine/Kurt)

[emerald-embers.livejournal.com]

Even if he'd written letters or sent emails as and when he could, even if he'd never forgotten to arrange for a present or a phone call on Blaine's birthdays, Neal hadn't expected a warm welcome when he finally managed to turn up for Thanksgiving as a free(ish) man.

Neal didn't recognise any of the rest of the family they were spending Thanksgiving with, and they didn't recognise him in return, but any misgivings he'd had about dropping by were forgotten the instant Blaine threw both arms around him and squeezed him so tight it hurt.

If anyone else had pulled that trick, he probably would have hinted that they ought to let go, but there were regular hugs and there were little brother hugs, and Neal had never felt more loved in his entire life than he did in that moment. For a minute or two, all the mistakes he'd made didn't matter; it had been the same back when they were both younger, before they got separated, but he'd thought that was just kids stuff and it would have disappeared by now.

He'd rarely been happier to be wrong.

"How long are you here for?" Blaine asked when he pulled away at last, not quite crying, but visibly tearing up, and Neal was sorely tempted to pull him straight into another hug.

"At least a week," Neal replied, grinning. "I haven't got anything better to do."

Blaine grinned back before remembering that he had a family around him in need of introducing, and Neal proceeded to charm and be charmed by each and every one of them.



"... and when he sings, when he's not showing off, you've never heard anything like - hey! Are you listening?"

Neal stopped playing with Blaine's curls long enough to give the question proper consideration. "I think I stopped five minutes ago."

Kurt laughed, the lilt of his voice a little strange but oddly soothing nonetheless. Neal couldn't remember having been as happily domestic anywhere else as he was here, sitting and watching television with his brother's head in his lap and his brother's boyfriend stretched out at the other end of the sofa.

"You're just unromantic," Blaine huffed, irritable but not so much that he could be bothered shifting from his seat.

"No, I'm just your brother. I don't need to know all the gory details."

Blaine shrugged, hugging him tight despite still being visibly annoyed, and Neal shut his eyes, enjoyed the simple feeling of comfort while he could. He'd been comfortable before, but that was just a physical thing - this was more than that, something that soothed an ache he hadn't allowed himself to notice before. Even if Blaine hadn't done well for himself, even if he hadn't discovered his talent for music or come out or found a boyfriend he clearly adored, it would have been enough just having him around.

The rest of Neal's family might not count for much, but Blaine was a good kid. It showed.

And Hell, if Blaine managed to be a good kid and keep his hands clean in the process, maybe there was something worthwhile in being a white knight after all.

Doctor Who (Eleven): Gen or Amy/Rory

[peppervl.livejournal.com]

While on an adventure, Rory finds some abandoned kittens and sneaks them back onto the TARDIS. Hijinks ensue.

Gen is fine as is Amy/Rory and Eleven/River.

Re: Doctor Who (Eleven): Gen or Amy/Rory

[mithrel.livejournal.com]

He doesn’t plan on it. It’s just another day running from Unfriendly Aliens^TM But somehow he gets separated from Amy and the Doctor and winds up in an alley. He hears a small noise coming from under the alien skip and goes to investigate.

And, okay, he officially hates this planet. Behind the trash there’s a bag, and it’s moving, high-pitched noises coming from it.

He cautiously opens the bag (because, alien planet, you never know) and yeah, they’re kittens. Or almost-kittens. Their ears are round, and no kittens he’s seen have eyes that vivid of a green, but close enough.

Their ears are open, but their eyes aren’t. He knows they’ll have no chance here, and the aliens seem to have lost him, so he carefully picks up the bag and heads back to the TARDIS.

He’s able to keep the fact that he brought stowaways aboard a secret for awhile. He beds them down in his closet and feeds them, glad that they seem to be able to tolerate milk.

Even when they get slightly older and start tottering around his room, it’s not a problem. He just makes sure to keep the door closed.

But at one point Amy tries to come in, and when he shoos her away he leaves the door cracked open by mistake.

The three of them are in the console room talking, when there’s a small “meep.”

Rory winces, hoping he’s the only one who heard it, but…

“Hello,” the Doctor says, picking up the kitten that’s sniffing his ankle. “Where’d you come from?”

Rory contrives to look innocent.

“What is it, Doctor?” Amy asks, coming over for a closer look.

“It’s an oreytu. Looks like it’s only a few weeks old, I can’t think–” He cuts off and looks at Rory, who gives him his best who, me? look.

“We were on Oreius not too long ago.”

“Were we? So many planets, they all start to blur together.”

“Rory,” the Doctor says sternly. “Where did you find it?”

So he tells them. Amy seems more amused by it than anything. The Doctor gives him a lecture about alien germs and lack of antibodies (which Rory finds a bit rich, considering that, A. he’s a nurse, he knows how diseases spread, and B. the Doctor had taken them to God-knows-how-many planets without worrying about it) then subsides.

He does wash his hands of the whole matter, leaving it to Amy and Rory to take care of them, and threatening “One bit of trouble and it’s right back to Oreius with them.”

This causes some problems. Rory manages to get the one who first went exploring out of the innards of the TARDIS console before the Doctor notices. Amy has to jury-rig barriers to keep them from getting hopelessly lost, since they can move faster than you think and hide anywhere (as proven by the previous incident.) They’re always underfoot, always demanding attention and generally making a nuisance of themselves.

It comes to a head when the Doctor comes out, swinging the leader of the three oreytus (oreytu?) by the scruff of the neck.

“RORY!”

Amy pokes her head out of a corridor, as he tries to turn invisible.

“What happened, Doctor?”

“IT ATE MY CUSTARD!”

Amy smirks. “So?”

“So? So?! How am I supposed to eat my fish fingers without any custard? I warned you, Rory, one bit of trouble–”

“But Doctor–”

“Don’t ‘but Doctor’ me! We’re going back to Oreius as soon as I can program the console!”

The oreytu, still swinging mournfully from his hand, lets out a distressed “meep?” at that.

The Doctor looks from the oreytu to Rory’s crestfallen face to Amy’s disapproving one, and sags.

“All right, fine, we won’t take them back. But keep them away from my custard!”

“Sure thing, Doctor,” Amy says, as Rory rescues his oreytu and runs before the Doctor can change his mind.

CWRPS: J2

[peppervl.livejournal.com]

After a long day (week) on set, Jensen ends up with a killer headache (migraine or not, up to the writer). Jared takes care of him.

Flicker

[akadougal.livejournal.com]

Jared wondered if it might have been the strobe lighting that made Jensen clench his jaw and rub at his eye socket. After years together, he could tell when one of Jensen’s headaches was starting. Jared had called them migraines at first, until Jensen had set him straight. A migraine would have him flat on his back in a darkened room for a whole day. These were just headaches and he could deal with them.

Maybe it was the smoke? The acrid artificiality had made Jared cough and his eyes water. Or it could even have been the brand of coffee or the type of cheese in the tuna melt at lunch. Jared was never quite sure what kicked off one of Jensen’s headaches. He didn’t really care. All he wanted to do was make them go away.

They had one more shot tonight and Jensen glared at him when he opened his mouth to suggest perhaps they held it over until tomorrow. Having to come in early would be worse than putting up with the headache for a bit longer. Jared pulled his pages out, re-read his lines and nodded. They’d do this quick and get home. They shot it in one. Wardrobe and make-up didn’t take long and they were in the back of the SUV before long. That was when part one of the Jared Plan kicked into action.

He passed over the bottle of water first, waiting until Jensen had it open and had taken a sip (because his mom always said to lubricate the throat first before swallowing, which, in other contexts, made Jared giggle inappropriately) before handing over two little orange pills. Jensen swallowed them without pause and held out his hand, eyes grateful. Jared handed over the neck cushion and pushed the armrest up. Jensen finished off his water and then he lay down, head on Jared’s thigh. They were shooting about an hour away from the neighbourhood and Jensen would sleep if he could.

Jared patted Jensen’s hair, stiff with Dean’s gel. He couldn’t wait until they were home and he could run a bath in that stupidly large tub that they could both fit into. He liked Jensen’s hair free of the gunk. It was soft then. He let his hand drift down to Jensen’s shoulders, feeling the knotted muscles and tense shoulders. That would never do. His stroking became more deliberate, more of a massage. Jensen snuffled his thanks and Jared spent the rest of the ride working his fingertips in circles.


Night had well and truly fallen and Jared regretted having to wake Jensen. But it was only for a few minutes. They both stumbled through the door, Jared feeling the exhaustion of the week dragging him down too. The dog walker had dropped the dogs back and they were lying in a pile on their cushions in the front room. Jensen waved at them, stifling a yawn, before flicking off the overhead light and letting the faint light from the street show him the way upstairs. That made Jared worry. That meant the headache was worsening.

He caught up with Jensen after locking the door, walking him through to their bedroom with hands rubbing up and down Jensen’s side. He tried not to show how worried he was and laughed at Jensen’s muttered "’m okay."


The bath was every bit as relaxing as he’d hoped, Jensen lying back against his chest, eyes closed. Jared had left the lights off, leaving the door through to their room open so he could see. Jensen had fixed him with a stare that would have been baleful if he hadn’t screwed up his face with pain halfway through.

Now it was just the two of them and the quiet swish of the water in the tub. Jared was drifting, not thinking of much, working towards his own night’s sleep when Jensen turned his head and dropped a kiss on his shoulder. Almost automatically, Jared tightened his arms around him.

"Thanks, man," Jensen whispered. That was all Jared needed to hear.

[mithrel.livejournal.com]

Suits, Mike/Harvey. Mike wants a pet. Harvey says no, absolutely not, not in his apartment and how would they take care of it anyway, they work 80 hour weeks. Mike doesn't listen.

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

"I know the real reason you don't want it," Mike says.

Dishes clank in the sink. Harvey looks over blankly, like he hasn't heard him over the clatter.

Mike knows better. "The real reason you don't want it is because you don't want me to pay attention to anything but you."

"That's stupid," Harvey says, and clatters the dishes louder over Mike's attempted response. Mike has to fling soapy water in his face to get him to stop.

"It's true," Mike goes on. "You like being the center of my world. You don't want to share me with anyone."

Harvey snorts. "I would be the center of your world no matter how many filthy animals you brought in here."

"They're not filthy, and--"

A splash of soapy water in the face. Turnabout is fair play. Mike sputters.

"Not in my apartment, Ross. That's final."

"It's our apartment now, and--"

"Final."

---

There is a box on Harvey's desk. No, not a box. A basket. And inside the basket something is moving.

Out he blasts into the cubicle farm. "Ross. In my office. Now."

Mike rises and follows with the obedience of a puppy. Why the hell should Harvey need another pet?

When he returns to his office, the thing in the basket is still moving beneath its blanket. "What is this."

"That's Ronald," Mike says.

A pink snout appears all of a sudden. Harvey literally jumps back. "What-- what--"

"I just told you. It's Ronald." Mike reaches into the basket and draws out the little ball of spines and fluff, which immediately hides its face and turns into a quivering paperweight. As Harvey watches in some fascination, the snout appears again, along with two beady eyes, and stares at him for a half-second before returning to paperweight mode.

"Is that a hedgehog?" Harvey asks. His voice sounds way more tentative than he intended.

"Yup. You said not in your apartment, so your office will have to do." Mike runs his hand down along Ronald's spines fondly. "Although I have to warn you, keeping a hedgehog is actually illegal in the five boroughs of New York City. So we should probably keep him in a drawer. Which is fine, they like dark places, as long as he has a chance to exercise--"

Harvey's face has gone slack. "What about your drawers?"

In response, Mike pushes the ball of prickles up toward Harvey's face. "You want to have this cute little thing assaulted by those rabid wolves Louis calls his associates? He'd never survive out in that cold, dark world." He nods encouragingly. "Besides, he likes you."

"He doesn't--" But the little beady eyes are out again, and this time tiny claws are starting to unfurl, until Ronald is stretched out on all fours, regarding Harvey with patient curiosity.

"See?" Mike nearly giggles aloud. "You're both equally prickly. He senses a kindred spirit."

Jessica is walking by. Her gaze shifts sharply, and Harvey whirls around to put his frame between the incriminating hedgehog and the door. "Put that thing away before someone notices." He seizes Mike's hands and pushes them down. Ronald attempts to walk onto his forearm. Harvey freezes.

Mike saves him, plucks Ronald off, and deposits him back in his basket. He looks at Harvey pleadingly.

Harvey grumbles. "Fine. In the drawer. But he can't stay here."

"Then I guess we'll have to take him home." Mike tucks Ronald's basket into the drawer. Ronald persists in staring up at Harvey. He is kind of cute. Kind of. "And, hey, Harvey?"

Harvey shifts his gaze from one pair of curious eyes to another. "Hm?"

Mike grins. "You're still the center of my world."

Harvey grumbles, but he bends down to steal a kiss -- hidden, like the hedgehog, from public view, and that makes it all the sweeter. "I better damn well be," he murmurs against Mike's mouth. Mike holds back whatever comment is brimming on his lips now, and that's triumph enough. Harvey will take the small victories where he can get them.

Supernatural - Sam and Dean gen

[cherie-morte.livejournal.com]

DEAN TEACHES SAM HOW TO RIDE A BIKE.

And probably laughs at Sam when he falls and scratches himself. But still, good times are had by all.

Re: Supernatural - Sam and Dean gen

[triedunture.livejournal.com]

The bike is a rusty old Schwinn that may have once been purple. The tires were flat and cracked, but Dean hauled it out of the motel dumpster anyway. "Tires are nothing, I can find new tires," he tells Sam. Sam looks dubious. They are 12 and 7, and they haven't seen their dad in five days. John had called on the phone to tell them it would probably be another week at least before he made it back.

The room is paid up, Dean. Just watch your brother. Stay out of trouble.

Room and board are one thing, though, and boredom is another. Boredom is what he really has to worry about. Sam's already burned through the dime paperbacks they have stashed in a duffle except the one with the woman in a torn red dress on the cover because that's Dean's. Now Dean is desperate for something to keep his little brother occupied or else Sam will try to make friends with the lady at the front desk, and if he lets slip their dad left them there alone, they'll be in big trouble.

So. Dumpster. Bike. Tires. Dean's ridden a bike before, years ago when Sam was too little to take on the road, when their dad would leave them at Missouri's or Father Jim's for months at a stretch. Sometimes the neighborhood kids would let Dean have a go on their bikes. Nobody taught him how to ride. It was just trial and error.

But he's going to be there for Sam. Once the new tires are on ("Where did you--?" "Don't ask stupid questions, Sammy.") Dean lifts Sam onto the banana seat and clamps his hands to the handlebars. Sam's little legs barely reach the pedals. Dean gets a roll of duct tape from his bag and fashions makeshift foot straps around each pedal to keep Sam's shoes stable.

"Don't let go, Dean, oh geez, don't let go," Sam whimpers as they begin. Dean holds the back of the seat, his eyes rolling heavenward.

"It's fine, we're not even going fast." He keeps pushing the bike from behind, urging Sam to keep pedaling. The motel parking lot is flat and Floridian. There's no chance of suddenly picking up speed. Still, Sam frets.

"It's too high," he says, glancing down at the asphalt again. "It's too big for me, I can't--"

"Quit freaking, I'm right here." Dean tries for his father's gruff tone, but the sight of his little brother flailing on the bike make him smile and ruins it. "I'm going to let go, okay? And you just keep pedaling and going straight." Sam immediately swerves, the front wheel going wild. Dean laughs and straightens it out. "Pretend the grass is lava. You can't touch the lava. Just stay on the blacktop."

Sam falls that afternoon. A lot. He scrapes up the palms of his hands and his little knees, and Dean is doubled over with laughter by the time the sun starts going down, but Sam keeps climbing back on the bike and saying, "No, I can do it, just don't let go so fast this time."

"Okay, fine," Dean says, holding the back of the seat again. "Just tell me when to let go, okay?"

"Not yet, not yet," Sam pleads as he pumps his legs faster. Dean trots along behind him, his grip loosening. "Dean, not yet!" Sam cries over his shoulder.

"I won't, not yet," Dean agrees, following.

Supernatural - Sam/Dean or Sam and Dean gen

[cherie-morte.livejournal.com]

Future curtain fic in which one of them has a DOGGIE and it causes all kinds of SHENANIGANS in their house which they own and which has CURTAINS (be they literal or metaphorical).

Re: Supernatural - Sam/Dean or Sam and Dean gen

[morganoconner.livejournal.com]

Dean stares bemusedly at the scene in his living room for a long moment, and then he turns toward the stairs and yells, "Sam!"

There's a clatter from his brother's workshop-slash-library, followed by a lot of clomping as Sam races around the corner and down the stairs. Even at fifty, he's still pretty spry. Dean doesn't think he could move that fast these days, not without a ghost on his tail. "I can explain!" Sam says, panting a little.

Dean doubts that. "Oh, can you? Can you explain why there's a fuzzy little beast playing tug-of-war with the curtains?"

Sam stops beside Dean, blinking at the scene laid out before him. Particularly at the little ball of fluffy tan fur balanced on the arm of the couch, one end of a navy blue curtain clamped between it's teeth as it growls and yips ferociously around it. Sam's hand inches up until he's rubbing at the back of his neck. He turns to Dean with a too-innocent grin, dimples and teeth flashing. The bits of silver at his temples are more noticeable in the late afternoon sunlight, and Dean has to remind himself that this is not the time to reach up and drag a hand through it. "Um," Sam says. "Remember when you said I could have anything I wanted for my birthday?"

"Uh huh," Dean replies dryly. His eyes go back to the living room. The curtain is not winning this fight. "I figured you'd ask for a blowjob. Not a four-footed tail-wagging marauder."

"Well, Benny's golden retriever had a litter of puppies, and he had to find homes for all of them and…well, look at him, Dean!"

Dean had been looking for several minutes now. He still isn't impressed.

"Please?" Sam says, and damn it, how is it possible that his eyes are more puppy-like and pleading than the actual puppy's?

"You owe for this for, like, ever." Dean is going to regret this eventually, he just knows it.

But then Sam's grin lights up his whole face, crows feet and all, and he wraps Dean up in a bear hug to end all bear hugs, and Dean figures he can live with that.

"Dork," he says. "I'm not walking the thing. Or training it. Or letting it into my baby ever."

Sam nods hurriedly, gives Dean another giant smile, and then soundly kisses him into forgetting he ever had a reason to be annoyed.

Behind them, the puppy sits on his haunches and happily devours the bit of navy blue fabric he's won.

Supernatural RPF - Jared/Jensen or Jared/Genevieve

[cherie-morte.livejournal.com]

Jared does something stupid. Bakes this cupcake (http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lza8m3wY7N1r5wwzeo1_400.jpg) to make up for it. It works.

Re: Supernatural RPF - Jared/Jensen or Jared/Genevieve

[angelicfoodcake.livejournal.com]

Filled at my journal, because the pic is kinda big and I'm not sure how well it would look in a comment.

(http://angelicfoodcake.livejournal.com/73210.html)

Suits, Harvey/Mike

[bballgirl3022.livejournal.com]

Anything where Harvey and Mike are being adorably domestic and/or couple-y

Suits, Harvey/Mike - Any Way The Wind Blows

[akadougal.livejournal.com]

It starts with Bohemian Rhapsody. Actually, it probably started with Mike’s insistence that they had the radio on in the apartment while they cooked. Or possibly with Harvey’s insistence that they cook, despite the fact that they live in the take out/dining out capital of the world. The DJ burble is ignorable in the background as Mike chops and re-chops onions finely while Harvey wields the spatula like a fencing foil. It’s not until he realises that Harvey’s been humming along that Mike starts to listen.

Harvey cannot sing. He’s keeping rhythm. He knows all the words. He’s just… The pitch is all over the place. Sometimes the notes go low and sometimes high. Harvey is murdering the song. One of the greatest songs of all time, in Mike’s opinion. Harvey – his Harvey, who is so so serious about his obscure jazz – just grins lazily and directs Mike back to the onions.

Mike feels he has no other options. No recourse. He picks up the harmony. Now, Mike may not be ready to leave the law (or, you know, his shady pretence of the law) for the nightclubs but he knows how to sing. He’s been back up in enough bands to hold a tune. And it turns out that he’s still got it, as Harvey dries out and lets Mike carry on. Then he straightens his shoulders in his (sadly) loose Harvard t-shirt and picks up the words again. He and Mike sing at each other across the counter until the sizzle in the pan lets him know that he should really be stirring. Doesn’t stop Harvey’s free hand shooting out in a grand operatic gesture as he reaches for the high notes.

Mike laughs, free and easy. Harvey throws a grin over his shoulder before head banging into the bridge. Mike plays his part. It’s time to bring out his air guitar.

“You look ridiculous, Ross,” Harvey mutters, taking the chopping board and dumping the vegetables into the pan. There’s no come back to that, not really. Mike sips at his beer and lets Harvey finish stirring. Then he arches his eyebrow. “Take it home?”

Mike makes a ridiculous act of it, singing falsetto as he swaggers towards Harvey. It’s only a step or two further until he snugs his hips against Harvey’s ass and makes him sway in time. Harvey adds the sauce – proving he’s still in control of course – before turning down the heat and leaning back. And stealing Mike’s beer. “That’s what you get for upstaging me.”

“Gotta be used to that by now.” Mike lets the words rumble into Harvey’s ear as the DJ finishes up the song and the ads start. Harvey doesn’t respond, too busy drinking the beer. “So, how long does this take to cook?”

“Half hour.” Harvey stirs the mix once more before settling the lid on top.

“So we got some time for you to upstage me, right?” Mike dropped a kiss on Harvey’s neck, just where the t-shirt ended and warm, soft, kissable Harvey skin began.

“Won’t take much.”




You have no idea how much I wanted to call this Shagaleo Gigolo, even though I'm not sure that would translate to American. <3

Leverage: Parker/Hardison

[peppervl.livejournal.com]

As part of a con, the Leverage team ends up with a puppy. Parker bonds with it and asks Hardison if they can keep it when the con is over.

Fandom: Supernatural, Destiel,

[yourgracewasted.livejournal.com]

Any setting or AU: Castiel is determined to make Dean pie from scratch

Re: Fandom: Supernatural, Destiel,

[tink-sky-reid.livejournal.com]

Assuming my green light for posting fills extends to all unfilled prompts and provided I am not kidnapped by aliens, this should be up tonight or tomorrow ^^

[onetouchspark.livejournal.com]

Sam scolds Dean for having to take care of his angel.

ETA: this can be happy, right? In a fun way!

Good Omens

[angel-kink.livejournal.com]

Crowley/Aziraphale

Crowley is drunk and makes schmoopy fluffy very un-demon-like confessions to Aziraphale.

[wallmakerrelict.livejournal.com]

Supernatural; Dean/Castiel; The constant eye-sex always drove Sam crazy. He thought it would stop when Dean and Cas started having actual sex. It didn't.

FILL: Nothing Easy 1/2

[peroxidepest17.livejournal.com]

Okay, it's not like he thought the idea of Dean and Cas finally just giving in to their epic romance and making out would make his life easy or anything --Sam's optimistic, sure, but not that optimistic-- but he at least thought it might make things a little easier, if only because he would no longer have to deal with the thick, UST-laden air between his brother and his brother's ex-angel in between all the other parts of his life that consist solely of fighting, killing, eating greasy food, and passing through numerous terrifying small towns where he is pretty sure the town charters still say it's okay to marry your sister.

The thing is, sitting between them (or across from them, or alongside them, or anywhere within ten feet of them) back before they had been a thing, for lack of better word, had been frustrating. Sam had bravely fought off the manful urge to grab the backs of both their heads and smoosh their faces together on more than several occasions, particularly whenever one of their eye-fucking contests got to the point where it made families with small children uncomfortable or tempted rednecks to grab pitchforks and form posses. At the time, the logical, rational, self-preservationist part of Sam's brain had thought that it was one of their (admittedly) many problems that could easily be fixed if only Dean would man up and Cas would educate himself a little more thoroughly on what it meant to be human and what these tingly feelings in his pants were. At the time, Sam had been convinced that if only Dean and Cas would get together, it would save a good chunk of whatever remains of his sanity, post-Hell.

Sam now knows better.

Sam now knows that Dean and Cas making out really doesn't help make anything easier at all. In true Winchester fashion, it really only makes his life harder.

Because before, it had been a frustrating, but acceptable case of "I know you like him, I know he likes you," for Sam.

Now, it's an enormous clusterfuck of "I know you know I know you like him and I know he knows that I know you know he likes you back," and somehow, that has not stopped the staring contests at all. In fact, it has just made the staring contests impossibly heavier between them, makes them feel even more laden with innuendo than they'd ever been before. For Sam.

Sam thinks it might be the part of the whole thing that is now "I know you know that I know what you are thinking right now and I know you both know that you don't care that I know," that makes it the worst.

In any case, the eye-fucking continues, except now, at the end of the day, Sam also knows that it will lead to actual fucking, which his brain does not need on top of all the fighting and the killing they always have to do.

Such is his life.

Tonight, he sits awkwardly to the side of the two lovebirds in their crappy diner booth as they look soulfully at each other across the table. Dean does something obscene with his peperoncino. Possibly unconsciously, but also possibly not.

[jaune-chat.livejournal.com]

Heroes, Matt/Daphne, she keeps thinking little things to brighten up Matt's day every time she speeds by the apartment

H50 - Steve/Danny

[akadougal.livejournal.com]

Steve/Danny, taking care of each other after a long day.

[morganoconner.livejournal.com]

Hawaii Five-0, Steve/Danny, Grace

Danny has to go to NJ for a few weeks. Grace doesn't want her Uncle Steve to be lonely while he's gone, so she brings him a kitten from a litter one of the kids at school was giving away.

Bonus for Danny meeting the kitten when he gets home and unwillingly falling in love with it. Double bonus for them naming it together.

Established relationship is great, but quadruple-bonus-hearts-in-eyes-forever if you can somehow make it a first time fic.

♥

Fill! 1/3(hopefully) - Grace

[pandionpandeus.livejournal.com]

Grace likes Uncle Steve. He doesn't bring her lots of presents like Uncle Matt, but he buys her shave ice and he's on her side in getting Danno to let her take surfing lessons from Aunt Kono, so that makes him awesome. Plus, he makes Danno smile. Grace likes anybody that can make Danno smile.

But right now, Danno's back in New Jersey, in Ho-bo-ken-in-Jersey-City with Grandma and Pap and Aunt Louise and Aunt Natalie. Danno'd sat her down to explain about how Aunt Louise got really sick and he had to go visit her and help her get better.

Grace had looked at him and said, "I know what cancer means, Danno." And Danno had looked really sad for a moment before giving her a hug and saying, "Yeah, I guess you do, Monkey."

So, Danno was back in New Jersey with Grandma and Pap and Aunt Louise and Aunt Natalie and Grace was still here in Hawaii, where Uncle Steve and Aunt Kono and Uncle Chin all stopped by every day to see her and talk to her. So, she sees it when Uncle Steve comes back from talking to Mommy and he looks sad, like Danno did before he left.

He doesn't tell her what's wrong, but Grace wants to fix it. Danno makes Uncle Steve smile, but Danno's in New Jersey and Grace is here. She just needs a plan.

~*~

Two days later, she raises her hand in class when the teacher asks if any of them would be willing to adopt a kitten. She takes the forms to Mommy when she gets home and explains, "It's for Uncle Steve. He needs something to make him smile while Danno's gone."

And Mommy looks at her for a moment before smiling and saying, "Your father can be very slow sometimes," which doesn't make sense, but she signs for the kitten, so Grace doesn't think about it too much.

That weekend is supposed to be a Danno weekend, but Danno's in New Jersey. Mommy and Step-Stan are busy though and nobody Mommy calls is available to take her for the whole weekend. "What about Uncle Steve?" she suggests Friday afternoon and Mommy sighs, but doesn't say anything as she dials the phone once more.

"Commander McGarret? This is Rachel Edwards. ...I'm doing fine, thank you. Actually, I had a favor to ask..."

~*~

So, Grace will be staying at Uncle Steve's house on the beach, in his siter's old bedroom, which is painted blue and pink and there are really neat things on the dresser. Grace spends the ride over holding the box with the kitten carefully, reaching in to pet it at stoplights. It's grey and it has blue eyes that remind Grace of Danno. She hopes Steve likes it.

[morganoconner.livejournal.com]

RPS, Richard/Misha, SNUGGLES

I don't care. Fic, art, whatever. I just need Richard and Misha snuggling. Lots and lots of snuggles!!

SPN RPS - J2

[akadougal.livejournal.com]

Jared has cold toes and Jensen warms them up. Somehow.

White Collar, Neal/Peter/Elizabeth

[mithrel.livejournal.com]

Neal is brittle. They're the glue that holds him together.

Supernatural Sam/Castiel

[(Anonymous)]

Castiel sees that Sam is sad and tries to him him a salad to cheer him up.

Sam appreciates the effort and hugs are had.