Over to you, folks!

[sirona_fics]

OKAY. OKAY. LAST POST TODAY, I PROMISE -- or should I say first post today, since it's after midnight here? GAH, I AM RAMBLING ALREADY. THIS WILL WORK JUST FINE, THEN.

I find myself in the strange position of having three--no, four--huge stories in the works. When I say huge, I'm thinking at least upwards of 10K, probably nudging closer to 20K and over. And I'm stumped. Just thinking about ALLLL THE WORDS I'm going to write for them makes me leery of sitting my arse down and getting to it; moreover, I can't seem to decide which one to focus on right now.

So. After much pondering, and deft enabling by delicatale, to get my writing juices flowing I propose the following: PROMPT ME. I will write drabbles for as many prompts as I get ideas for, and that's a promise. I can't guarantee that every prompt will get filled, BUT I will do my absolute best for as long as I need this exercise. Now, it's half past midnight here right now, so this will happen tomorrow most likely, but. GO ON, YOU GUYS. I WANT TO WAKE UP TO A VERITABLE DELUGE OF PROMPTS! :D

Fandoms: Inception (Arthur/Eames), Sherlock (Sherlock/John, Mycroft/Lestrade (oh god)), H50 (Steve/Danny), XMFC (Charles/Erik), HP (Harry/Draco -- this one is for you, altri_uccelli, if you fancy it! :))

I did this last year for Christmas, when anyone who wanted a Christmas drabble from me got one. I will very likely do that again this year, so think of this as a wee taster! :D

Comments

[somehowunbroken]

\o/

Steve/Danny, waking up together for the first time.

[sirona-gs.livejournal.com]

Danny unglues his eyes open. It's painful, his lashes clumped together, his eyeballs dry and sore. Something unspeakably disgusting has crapped and then died in his mouth, by the taste of it, and there's a heavy weight pinning him to the bed. He lets his eyes squeeze to a crack and peers down.

Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck.

He follows that familiar arm to an even more familiar shoulder tattoo, and there's no hiding from this -- he is in Steve's bed. Steve is cuddled to his back, holding him close like Danny's his favourite teddybear. When Danny makes an involuntary twitch, the warm, reassuring weight of Steve's arm shifts with him, settles around him again when he lies back and tries to remember how to breathe.

If this has finally happened, if he has at long last given in to the knee-buckling need to maul Steve, kiss him and hold him close and strip that clinging t-shirt off him and straddle him and grind down -- if that's what happened last night, and Danny can't remember it, there will be blood. He's not even kidding.

Steve shifts behind him, burying his nose in the nape of Danny's neck. It feels... nice. More than nice. It feels fucking spectacular, and Steve's barely touched him yet.

There's another weight pressing into him, this one much lower than the incriminating arm. Danny's skin bursts out in scalding goosebumps all over when he realises that it's Steve's cock that's digging into his ass. He finds himself, all of a sudden, excruciatingly hard. Steve's fingers dig into his bare stomach gently, scratching lightly at the furry trail leading down to where Danny desperately wants him.

"You freaking out yet?" Steve murmurs hoarsely into his shoulder, where his lips have taken up delicious residence.

"No," Danny snaps back reflexively, and then thinks about it. "Actually, that depends on what happened last night and whether or not it coincides with what I can remember of it. Did we fuck?"

Steve pauses for a long moment, much too long for Danny's poor nerves. "Not for lack of trying on your part," he says at last, sounding cautious. "I just didn't think you'd want to not remember it in the morning. So no."

The air Danny wasn't quite aware he was holding rushes out, relieved beyond words. "Excellent. Get up."

"Uh. What?"

"Get up, McGarrett, surely you know how to do that, put your feet on the floor and stand up, come on."

Steve doesn't move for just long enough for Danny to feel the way his arm tightens a little and then reluctantly slides away, like Steve's worried he won't be allowed to do that, ever again. Which is simply laughable, what with the way Danny fucking yearns for this guy, it's embarrassing.

"Bathroom, come on." He marches Steve inside, squeezes toothpaste over his toothbrush and sticks it in Steve's hand, roots around in the cabinet over the sink until he unearths a fresh one, repeats the procedure.

"Brush, what, do I have to do it for you? Brush and spit."

Steve, looking utterly bemused, does as he's told. As soon as he's done, Danny spits, too, rinses his mouth while he watches Steve do the same, and once they've spat for the last time he's on Steve like a limpet, crowds him against the door, tugs his head down and does the best he can to climb him like a fucking tree.

Steve makes a surprised sound, but he gets with the program admirably quickly, with a stifled eye-roll that Danny graciously ignores.

"And to think you're usually so good with words," Steve says, dead-pan, which has no effect on Danny whatsoever considering the way Steve's clinging to him, hands closed firmly over his ass.

"You wanna talk? Now? Fuck you, I have better uses for my mouth. And this time we'll both remember it."

Predictably enough, Steve's pretty happy with that.

-----

[krossero.livejournal.com]

John/Sherlock, Sherlock's violin gets broken (it's up to you how)

[andrealyn]

Steve/Danny. AU in which Danny is an old-school witch who can weave love spells and Five-0 thinks he's been using his mojo for evil (but really, he's not, those idiots fell in love all by themselves).

[sirona-gs.livejournal.com]

Ahahaha yay! \0/ This has such a Studio Ghibli vibe for me, awesome! :D

Danny's Delivery Service, 1/2

[sirona-gs.livejournal.com]

Danny loves his shop when it's like this, soft and quiet, pots and flasks and beakers all linked together and bubbling merrily away in the background. The scent is fresh, a tiny bit sweet, like flowers indulging in a love affair with mangos and pineapples, which, considering Danny's line of work, isn't even a stretch of the imagination. The shop is serene at this time of day, twilight dusting the air with purple highlights, and Danny can feel its contentment in his bones, in the way his shoulders slump and his back loosens, happy and pliant, the way his thoughts slow and his heart pumps lazily, easy and humming with the joy of it -- the knowledge that he's good at what he does, that he spreads happiness through the world on wings of African Violet and cinammon.

He doesn't even mind that the curse that plagues all magic prectitioners is just as true for him as any one of his brothers and sisters -- that he can't weave a spell for himself, not ever, and especially when it comes to the love potions he specialises in. No, no matter how potent he makes the tincture, it never works for him -- Rachel is living proof, back when he was young and stupid and thought he was the exception to the rule. Years of heartbreak, his and Rachel's both, have taught him better, nudged him gently towards the realisation that he, just like everyone, needs to work for it, can't rely on magic to provide happiness. The simple truth is that, unless there's already attraction between two people, unless the seeds of love have already been sown, not even the strongest love potion will work.

Not that people believed him, he sighs despondently. Everyone expects miracles when they come running to a witch.

The shop bell jingles and Danny turns, a welcoming smile over his face. O-kay, he thinks to himself, taking in the troop of people barging inside. The man at the front is... well. He's... tall, and built, yet lanky and loose -- or that's what he'd normally be, Danny assumes, because right now he's glaring at Danny like it's going out of fashion. There's another guy with him, and two ladies standing close enough together that any witch worth his or her salt would know there's something simmering between them, just waiting to ignite.

"Hello, welcome to Williams' Emporium. How may I help you?" Danny says mildly, keeping his hands where everyone can see them. He knows the type, and not just because of the badges clipped to everyone's belts.

"I think you can," Tall-and-grumpy says, folding his arms in front of his chest. It's... interesting.

Danny drags his wayward thoughts out of the gutter. "What is this about, officer--"

"Commander Steve McGarrett. This is my team: Lt Chin Ho Kelly, Kono Kalakaua and Jenna Kaye. We're here to talk to you about the nature of your business."

Oh boy, Danny thinks to himself. Here we go again.

Danny's Delivery Service, 2/2

[sirona-gs.livejournal.com]

Of course, of-fucking-course they'd blame him for the fact that Ms Kalakaua and Kaye appear to be not-so-subtly into each other. But then the word 'evil' enters the equation, and, well. Danny may have blacked out a little, because by the time he actually listens to the words coming out of his mouth, he realises it's in his best interests the shut the fuck up before he gives away all the secrets to his trade.

They look suitably cowed, however. Danny may have been shouting at some point, he's not sure, but look, he has a history with that word, okay, it's not all sunshine and rainbows being a witch, and he's had to bring down one or two of the other kind in his time. It's never pleasant, and it's never satisfying in any sense of the word.

"Uh," Tall-and-grumpy--McGarrett, wasn't it?--says, a sheepish wince on his face. "Sorry about that, Mr Williams. It's nothing personal. It's just that we've been tracking a string of spells around the island, and I'm sorry to have to tell you that there have been two fatalities. We would really appreciate your help with this. We're, uh." He trails off, looking to the others for help.

"We're a little out of our depth, as you might be able to tell," Kelly says, smiling with the practiced politeness of the seasoned police officer. The ladies exchange a glance, clearly too embarrassed to speak.

Circe help them, another one. Danny sighs wearily. Of course he'd help them. This is bad for business, and bad for everyone around the impact radius. He says so, and watches some of the tension leave their shoulders and dissipate in the air.

"Okay. Tell me everything you have on the witch."

This is where Ms Kaye takes over, with an easy competence that impresses and reassures Danny. Meanwhile, he watches the others spread around the shop, curious and fascinated. The shop doesn't mind; it hums happily in the back of Danny's mind, pleased to be admired. McGarrett in particular gives out a certain vibe, almost like love itself -- obviously a fellow geek, if that look in his eyes is any indication.

This here, these people, the tentative trust blooming to life between them -- yeah. Yeah, Danny can work with that. And if there's a tiny little seed of hope putting out fragile shoots in his chest at the way McGarrett can't quite hide the way his eyes land on Danny again and again, well. That's nobody's business but his own. This time, he's smart enough to make sure it sticks.

-----

[cradle-song.livejournal.com]

Steve/Danny: we always see Danny being in awe/stupefied over Steve's badassery--write something where Steve is blown over by how awesome Danny is.

[zolac-no-miko.livejournal.com]

a;shglsahflajlksf THIS!

Bamf!Danny, 1/2

[sirona-gs.livejournal.com]

His arms hurt. So do his shoulders, his whole fucking body is on fire from the stretch of his hands tied above his head where he's hanging from a hook bolted into the ceiling. And thug #1 is swaggering closer, a vicious smile on his face that promises Steve another round of pain in the not-too-distant future. Steve's alone, and they're asking questions, but he'll be damned if he gives up his team. Over his dead body, never mind that that might happen sooner than he'd anticipated.

Just as the thug is reaching for his hammer, there's a soft thock on the far side of the warehouse, the upper half-floor that had been deserted when Steve had climbed through the window, before he'd been caught and strung up like a piece of meat. The thug in front of him jerks -- there's a fucking arrow through his neck, long and wickedly sharp. The thug keels over with a faint gurgle, hands scrabbling over his neck before his eyes roll back into his head and the wet sounds die away. Almost before he's stopped twitching there's another thock and the ropes binding his wrists slither down his arms, sliced clean through. He drops to the floor, lists a little until he gets his bearings, and looks up.

He almost can't believe his eyes. Danny stands there like a fucking avenging angel (god, they must have drugged him, what is he even thinking), longbow drawn and arrow cocked, eyes narrowed on the space behind the nearest crate. Before Steve can even move, Danny's let loose two arrows in quick succession, and there are two almost instantaneous thumps from behind it. Steve peeks around the corner and sees thugs #2 and 3, the latter still with the pliers in his hands, arrows straight through both their skulls, dead before they could even open their mouths to shout.

Which is fortuitous, because there are twenty more where those three came from, on the other side of the warehouse, close enough that the sound of a gunshot would alert each and every one of them.

Frantic waving catches his eye, and he looks up to see Danny signal for him to go round the back and slip out of the side door. Steve knows there's another guard there, but he trusts Danny, always, with his life and everything else, so he complies, hobbles to the door with his knees still aching fiercely, only to see the sentry laid out just like the others, an arrow straight through his heart. Steve opens the door a crack and slips out into the inky night, hugging the wall and looking around. More movement, and he watches Danny crawl out of the tiny window above him and jump lightly to the ground, bow secured to his back. Danny signals for him to follow and lopes away; Steve follows clumsily, legs shaking a little from hours of hanging down. Danny keeps pace, assesses him with sideways glances that Steve would normally resent the fuck out of, but are now simply reassuring. Danny's here. He has his back.

Finally, they reach the warehouse in the next lot over, round the corner and then at last Danny stops, pins him to the wall, runs slightly shaking hands all over him, fingers searching out injuries and broken bones.

"Danny, I'm all right," Steve rasps, has to catch Danny's arms to stop his feverish exploration, rubs small circles into the muscles tight with the strain.

"Goddamn it, Steve," Danny whispers back, clenching his hands into fists over Steve's hips.

Bamf!Danny, 2/2

[sirona-gs.livejournal.com]

"Where's the back-up?" Steve asks, more to keep Danny talking than actually wanting to know. They're probably surrounding the place as they speak, if Danny went in.

"Ten minutes away," Danny says. Steve stares.

Danny strolled right into a warehouse teeming with bad guys, armed only with a longbow and a bunch of arrows, and took out every single thing in Steve's path to getting out of there, all without waiting for back-up. Steve feels a little faint.

"Wow," he manages.

"Yeah," Danny says, shooting him a look. "Don't get used to it. ...Really don't get used to it."

Steve's grinning so hard, blood's pumping all the way through his body, and he wants to shove Danny against the wall and kiss him until neither of them can breathe, wants to have those arms and shoulders over him, wants Danny above him and around him, wants Danny to hold him down and take him, as hard as Steve can stand, and then some.

Later, he promises himself. For now, he draws Danny in, presses their foreheads together, breathes in the light huffs Danny lets out, terrified and relieved at the same time. Steve knows, because that's how he feels, too.

As soon as this thing is over, he's taking Danny to the firing range and making him teach him how to do that. And it might be a good idea if they're alone, because keeping his hands off Danny when he's like that, focused and competent and incredible, well, that's a full-time job in and of itself.

For now, there is Danny's breath over his lips, Danny's scent in his lungs, and it's everything Steve will need in this life and the next.

[laria-gwyn.livejournal.com]

Arthur/Eames, a violent meet cute. IDK, IDK, something with lots of explosions? :)

PS Wasn't sheffiesharpe's latest amazing?? <333

[sirona-gs.livejournal.com]

Heee that is going to be SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE! ;D

IT WAS SO, SO GOOD. I get more and more excited every time there's an update! :D I love the hint that Corrie might be, y'know, discovering things about herself with Anthea, AND HOW BAD-ASS ANTHEA IS, WOW. :D :D

[zolac-no-miko.livejournal.com]

I AM EXCITED FOR THIS ONE.

[altri-uccelli.livejournal.com]

Eeeeeeeeee!!! The possibility of H/D from you is as;ldfjdjfasjd.

Okay. Harry and Draco run across each other in a gay club in Amsterdam, neither having known the other was gay.

[sirona-gs.livejournal.com]

Yay! :) Now, then -- are you horribly opposed to drugs, my dear? I mean, not hardcore drugs, just recreational, like E and stuff? I have to say, I've never taken any drugs myself, but I did hang around with people who dropped Es in my first year of uni, and I think I can make this swing nicely with the prompt. But I want to make sure it won't actually turn you off! So pls to be letting me know. <3

[kristen999.livejournal.com]

Steve is delirious (fever, drugged what have you) and Danny has to talk him down from a (tree, roof, anywhere). Can be humorous, serious/scary, or any combo.

The care and feeding of recalcitrant Steves (crack)

[sirona-gs.livejournal.com]

I'm sorry, honey, this got a bit out of hand... D: I hope you still like it! /0\

---

"No, look, no--Steve, listen to me. You can't fly, you big goof." Danny's voice is getting hoarse from the yelling, a combination of frustration and worry making it hard to breathe.

Steve is balanced precariously on top of the McGarrett house's roof, feet planted right on the edge. Goddamn it, Danny closed his eyes for a second, just a second, he just needed to rest a little bit, it's been three days since Steve got dozed with some experimental compound by the latest baddies, and the hospital discharged him into Danny's care when all the tests had come back normal. Still, Steve has been acting strangely, losing a little time here and there, and Danny doesn't have the strength to walk away and leave him even for a minute without knowing he'll be okay.

The problem, of course, is that this is Steve McGarrett, otherwise known as Hawai'i's magnet for trouble. And here they are now, Steve on the roof and Danny on the ground below him, twitching from side to side as if he could possibly catch theguy if he jumped.

"No, seriously, Danny, I can, I promise. It's all so clear now. Don't know how I didn't see it before."

Steve's voice is calm, so calm it's alarming in and of itself, because Steve is never this calm.

"Okay," Danny says placatingly, holding his hands out. "Okay, Steve, we talked about this, remember? Superman came from another planet, and that's why he could fly. And Batman has his super-science-enforced cape, yes? You, Steven, have neither of those things. Now please come down the stairs like normal people?"

Steve steps closer to the edge, and fuck, he's going to give Danny heart palpitations, his ulcer is flaring again, it's been months since that happened, no matter how much he likes to complain.

"Relax, Danno. You have it all wrong. It'll be fine, look, let me show you."

And with that, he steps off the roof.

For a long moment, Danny stops breathing altogether, eyes popping out and throat so tight he's starting to choke a little. And then Steve just floats, honest-to-god floats, and Danny would check his own pulse and temperature if he could tear his eyes away from his wayward, apparently able to fly partner.

"What. The fuck," he manages when Steve lands safely in front of him, grinning fit to burst.

"See? Told you it would be fine," Steve says, and promptly keels over.

---

Once the hospital has given him the all-clear again, Danny sits down with the head doctor from the Dept of Infectious Diseases and listens in disbelief as the doc explains that yes, Steve can fly, and they can expect a number of other superhuman abilities to manifest at some time or another in the near future. No one has any idea how that happened, and Steve has been almost drained dry from all the blood samples they've taken, but there's no denying it -- there's a new superhero in town, and his name is Steve McGarrett.

Danny thinks about what it was like to work with Steve before he got upgraded, thinks about what it might be like to work with him now, and lets out a heartfelt groan. It's echoed by Chin, sitting across the corridor from him. And Kono? Kono grins so wide her face should be cracking from the force of it, then starts laughing, a little wildly, a lot excited. Danny sits there and watches them, ponders what his life is about to turn into, and quite honestly can't find it in himself to mind -- not as long as he gets to keep these people in it.

[siehn.livejournal.com]

Awesomesauce.

Steve/Danny. Old West AU.

Also. I totally have one of those christmas prompt things going at my lj, if you wanna leave me a prompt.

here it is.

Old Grenade-hand

[sirona-gs.livejournal.com]

Danny watches the dark mass of curls cropped closely to the tall man's head walk inside the Wandering Star saloon, and sighs to himself. God, not him again.

Steven J. McGarrett, fastest gun in the West, cheater, scoundrel, heartbreaker of men's and women's hearts both. At least that's what the rumour mill said, the one that followed him from town to town and back again, and now here he is, Danny's own personal Rubicon, trailing him from job to job like McGarrett has a fully-functioning Williams-radar that runs on ire. Danny has no idea how the guy does it, but not two days after Danny arrives in a place, McGarrett sneaks up on him like a dog with a bone.

Knowing him, and Danny likes to think he does at least a little by now, right this moment McGarrett is inside the saloon, shaking hands with the barman and ferretting out information like only he knows how, while with the other eye he follows the progress of the eternally present poker game in the corner. Soon enough McGarrett's going to ask to be dealt in, and then Danny knows that his quiet afternoon will come to a swift and probably violent end, because that's just the sort of trouble that follows McGarrett throughout the West lke a faithful horse.

And that isn't even the worst thing about this situation. No, the absolute worst thing is that Danny knows with an unshakable conviction that as soon as he pushes through the double doors and glares at McGarrett's smug face, the bastard is going to smile at him, that honest, open smile that Danny hasn't seen him give anyone else since McGarrett started trailing him a year ago, in the hopes of Danny leading him to a Chinese immigrant crime boss by the name of Wo Fat. And Danny? Well, Danny's going to cave, isn't he, he's going to scowl and rant but at the end of the day he's going to lend Steve a hand when the inevitable cheater tries to take him out for taking one hand too many, and he's going to pull McGarrett right out of the trouble he gleefully gets himself in, and when he turns to look, McGarrett's going to be right behind him with that glint in his eye, the one that promises adventures, probably a few firefights, definitely a few explosions -- unquestionably a whole load of fun.

And really, Danny thinks to himself as he adjusts the guns at his hips and his shiny sheriff's badge on his chest before starting his amble into the bar, one of these days Danny is going to have to work on saying 'thank you' already.

[nini-darko.livejournal.com]

AU Steve and Danny during Fleet Week in NYC (because that's all I could think about this year during Fleet Week)

[tailoredshirt.livejournal.com]

Oh, pick me!

I've lamented all season that Steve and Danny haven't made a trip to Kamekona's shrimp truck together, so I'd love to see something cute and bantery there!

Alternately, Steve/Danny; "That was my favorite shirt."

[gothikmaus.livejournal.com]

Can I second these? <3

[verasteine.livejournal.com]

Ooh, prompts! Okay, then :)

Steve/Danny, Steve comes back from reservist duty.

[sirona-gs.livejournal.com]

D'you mean he's recalled to duty? Or coming back from being recalled? THEY ARE BOTH AWESOME IDEAS, but it would change the vibe of the piece, so. Curious minds want to know!

[zolac-no-miko.livejournal.com]

If I'm never your hero I can never let you down.*

Oh god, I am torn between Steve/Danny and Charles/Erik... and actually, now that I think on it, it could work really well for Sherlock/John, too... idk WHICHEVER ONE SPEAKS TO YOU. Or twist my arm and I'll actually pick one. DECISIONS ARE HARD.

*Lyric from "Explode" by Patrick Stump. Song and lyrics here... not really suggesting you necessarily try to use the song for the story, just pimping it for my boy PStump. ;)

[sirona-gs.livejournal.com]

jhfajhfljkg OH MY GOD, THAT PROMPT. As soon as I read it my stomach honest-to-god jumped so hard. ALSO IT SPEAKS TO ME FOR ALL OF THEM JFHGJSFHGJ I CAN'T CHOOSE OH GOD. But but I think I'm going to make this one Sherlock/John. Because it has the whole John looking up to Sherlock, when in reality it's Sherlock who's worshipping John (head canon).

jhggsjfghlfjgh THE ANGST, OH MY GOD. CAN I MAKE IT HAPPY ENDING, CAN I? BECAUSE JUST THINKING ABOUT THE ANGST IS MAKING ME ALL T______T

[alba17.livejournal.com]

Charles/Erik, proper behavior in a library

[delicatale.livejournal.com]

What about that AU where Steve is a rockstar and Danny is a photographer?

IDK, DUDE, YOU DON'T HAVE TO.

[sirona-gs.livejournal.com]

DUDE, DUDE, OH MY GOD. *______* Watch this space! :D

[silmanumenel.livejournal.com]

Is it ok to still leave prompts? This came to me on the drive home from university just now, and I thought I might leave it here. Feel free to ignore it if it's too stupid or something. :)

Anyway, I reread your H50/Sherlock crossover yesterday, and I remembered how much I wanted any kind of sequel to that, and then I was listening to Adele earlier and these lines jumped out at me:

I hate to turn up out of the blue, uninvited, but I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it.
I had hoped you'd see my face and that you'd be reminded that for me, it isn't over.

Somehow this seemed to scream Steve to me, and then I was thinking what if Steve somehow tracks Danny to London and then shows up there? And of course they'd cross paths with Sherlock and John somehow. I don't even know if this makes sense, but I couldn't help myself. :)

[sirona-gs.livejournal.com]

Okay, a) IT IS NOT STUPID, OH MY GOD, THOSE LYRICS, I'M ALL ;______; AT THEM, and b) I always planned to make a sequel of some kind, and this is just SO STUPIDLY ROMANTIC, OH GOD, MY HEART, OH STEVE. T_____T POOR BABY. I WILL FIX THIS, I PROMISE.

...By which I mean, watch this space, I guess? >.>