water seeping

(no subject)

I realized I could easily spend my entire life reading Trek fics.

It isn't as alarming as it should be.

Randomly, I noticed I still suck at doing things for other people thing. But the best thing I can do (hell, the only thing I can do right now) is write! So request stuff here and I shall write it for you! CFUD, Micro, you know my fandoms, knock yourselves out. It'll be good for me as well.
  • Current Mood: relaxed relaxed
  • Current Music: Natalie Walker - With You
Given the enormity of the fandom and the length of time it's been around, the scary thing is that it's entirely possible.

Write me Arthur/Merlin :D

Merlin forgot how to breathe.

It was one, harrowing moment, driven by instinct as he pushed Arthur's body onto the bank, heaving, shaking, water dripping from his hair, into his eyes and he doesn't breathe because Arthur is unmoving, still, silent (and it contrasts so much with the world he knows that he can't believe Arthur could ever be still, could ever stop smirking, and leaning, hot, bright like he's his own sun and universe) and he can't breathe and his hands are moving to Arthur's stomach, to pump, to push, to beat because stars don't go out, that's impossible and

Arthur chokes and Merlin remembers to breathe.
Because I don't think I can stand 2 more days of SPN withdrawal, something with Dean, Sam, and Castiel please? ♥
Cas was one of them, Dean patiently explained to Sam. Which meant that during holiday time, he got the holiday privileges. Which was fine, really, but really he wasn't sure how eggnog, the playboy magazines and their normal ragtag gift giving was gonna make much sense to Castiel who treats everything new with a look magpies give when they're oggling something shiny and bizarre.

Not the point, Dean said firmly, Cas gets a Christmas just like the rest of us and that's that.

So Cas found himself on Christmas Eve, being texted heavily by Dean to come ("get ur butt hre or ull b srry" were the exact words), handed his very own stocking (it was really one of their old socks which Dean washed properly and decorated with some stickers he got at a thrift store), his own glass of eggnog and an issue of bustyasianbeauties.

It wasn't much. Sam sort of wished they could have a real one, just so Cas had a better first experience, but when they sat down for the showing of the game, Dean's arm casually tossed over Cas's shoulders like it was meant to be there and Sam swore, for a moment, the angel's eyes lit up.

and it was perfect.
Write me something Leo-focused with Oz in it and other than that completely up to you (CFUD or canon or other characters or whatever s'all good).
Oz was good for Elliot.

Not always, though. Most of the time, Oz was terrible for Elliot. He brought out his anger, rose his blood pressure, made him irritable and sweaty (which mean more washing for Leo later) and Elliot would go on for hours about that "no-good, snot-nosed midget who keeps smiling" and so on. And it did get tedious at times. Though it might help if Elliot picked something new about Oz to vent about.

There are other times, though, when the sincerity from both men just exploded. It was like a burst, a flash of colour that could be easily missed if you didn't look carefully enough. And in those tiny, cached moments of emotion, they understood each other. But then one of them would mess it up royally by putting their foot in it (this was usually Elliot again).

It was like watching something grow in the most unlikely of places. It was charming, and it was interesting. Mostly, Leo was surprised no one noticed. But no one ever does.
You should write me hilarious Maya and Yuri antics.

Because the world needs more hilarious Maya and Yuri antics.

Write me Kirk&Spock nonslash (yes I know but I feel like something platonicy right now).
I know you've already done it, but something Sylar/Kirk would rock my world. Or if not that, Dean/Castiel. Anything will do. I am so easy. ♥ ILU
Dean Winchester woke up.

Castiel watched him dig himself out of the earth, grasping, clawing, desperate, alive and wanting to live. He felt himself glow. Dean Winchester wants to live.

He fulfilled the first part of his mission.


Dean Winchester was utterly blasphemous.

He had no sense of gratitude. He was alive and breathing because of their mercy, a man who was in hell and yet, the gravity of what they had done for him seemed to mean nothing at all. It was frustrating, frustrating like a itch on the back of his skull and yet, as the man continues living the way he always have, there was fascination, how does he do it?

Perhaps this would not be as easy as he originally claimed.


Dean Winchester was confusing.

Lives were important to Dean. No one could agree more than Castiel. His life, however, seemed to an entirely different matter and he disregards it in ways that confound Castiel and if he did not step in, Dean Winchester would be lost a second time.

Castiel did not understand why Dean did not take pride in his status, in his destiny. Any other man would look at it as a divine dice cast open his name and embellished in history forever more.

So why does Dean Winchester look at it with heavy eyes?


Dean Winchester was precious.

Castiel knew this in his very being, that the moment Dean gripped his shoulder and met his eyes, and this was it, this was what it meant to be saved.

Castiel was right all along.
One for me!!

Anything, but if you want a prompt uhhhh I like Leto and Ghani's relationship and also anything with my characters and your characters (past and present~)
The world stops with Ghanima.

Perhaps the more accurate thing to say would be the world begins with Ghanima, but Leto is tired of new beginnings. He’s started the culminations of many surprises, many futures, but he knows he’ll never see it be born, just be instrumental to that birth. So when he lays his head on Ghanima’s lap, her hands on his face, cool, but not so cold that the worm-skin begins to itch. No, Ghani was right and her presence was soothing, like the old waterfalls (Niagara Falls, Earth, Earth, remember Earth John, Jack, Loise, Dermain, Leto, Leto—)


He opened his eyes and he touched Ghani’s hair that was falling into her eyes, a finger curled around a strand.

“There’s a story of a man named Samson…,” Leto murmured, “Who was invincible due to his hair. But he fell in love with Delilah who betrayed him and cut off his hair.”

“I know that story,” Ghanima murmured.

“Who will be my Delilah, Ghani?”

She kissed his brow, because it was easier for her than to answer.
When Oz is asleep, he is still awake. And when he is awake, he sees Jack sleep. Oz finds himself treading daydreams and sungrass as the soft melody of a pocketwatch plays in the background, playing, unyielding. And in the background, there's a dark man, hooded, mad, ravenous and the dreams creaks under the weight of nightmares. And then he sees Jack, his back to the mirror, back to Oz and he touches it carefully as if it could make the dark disappear.

It doesn't disappear, but the world turns over and Oz wakes up.