Beginnings

Co-written with worlddescending to see if we could manage it

It had been nearly forty-eight hours since they'd last spoken and quite honestly, Watson didn't hold much optimism for the scene he would encounter.

And, as expected, Mrs. Hudson had once again foregone all hope, reporting that she'd knocked on the doors to his private rooms until her knuckles were quite raw, only to get no answer. She was, she informed him, prepared to proclaim Holmes quite dead.

( Dear Watson. He never failed to come around. )

Deja-vu

Title: Deja-vu
Pairing: John/Marcus
Authors: dirigo and worlddescending
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Marcus Wright is sent back to protect John Connor.
Authors' Notes: This is a meshing of movie and TV canons and in doing so, we used some dates from one and some from others and meshed some facts. Yay, Terminator canon and its swiss cheesiness.
Warning: Major Character death (canonical), m/m slash (at about the 10K mark).
Word Count: 19800.
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to us; we are poor, please don't sue.

For John Connor, the idea of not going anywhere with strangers had a special significance.

In His Voice I Heard Decay

I was born into a nightmare. The world was burning and my boots broke bones on the street. The groan of metal, of gears, of death, that collective groan of a billion people striving for air when there was none, was the first sound I heard.

I was born into mud, into the clothes of a dead man, and with the stench of rotting flesh in my nose.

( There would be no relief. Marcus had never asked, but Kyle told him this anyway. )

Microfic - Yawny at the Apocalypse

Godric sat in the sun with his face turned up. He couldn't remember himself as a child, but he could imagine that this was what the birds would sound like to a child's ears. Summer heat hummed through his veins, his pumping blood, and when his fingertips brushed through the high grass, the hair on the backs of his arms shivered. Golden grain shot with the purple of flowers, purple so bright he could see it with his eyes closed. He was solid and swaying, he was warm and soft. A push would send him spinning and that fact was so terrifying it made him smile because to fall was to be human, and if he could reach and grasp that shining disc that hung just past his fingertips he would be all right. The ache would fade. The sun would shine bright on his face and no longer chase him into the thick dark, the dark that kept him awake. The thick dark that he awoke to when the dream faded.

[Yawny at the Apocalypse - Andrew Bird]

Ain't Found A Way to Kill Me Yet

Blair fell asleep before he did and he didn't notice how he'd gone perfectly still under her warm weight, except for the thud of his heart in his chest. He didn't need to move, it seemed. There were no twitches in his fingers or pangs in his legs. He'd settled comfortably against the canvas draped soil. The air, after the rain, was cold, the cloud cover low and close. It should have been warm, he felt, stuffy with humidity, but it wasn't and the cold felt empty, unwelcoming.

Marcus had his head tipped back, eyes open, sight full of the thick grey overhead that never dispersed. A nuclear winter. Ash in the rain. He remembered the fallout shelter that had been in back of the old grocery store in Abilene, the one had had closed down the year he was born. Would anyone have had the chance to get in that shelter before the bombs landed, or had Abilene been wiped off the map, leveled by radiation? ( More than that, he wondered if he cared. )

Chrystal Meth

Chapter 2 Title: Chrystal Meth
Words: 584
Genre(s): Drama/Angst
Rating: Rated: T
Summary: Marcus Wright before, during and after. The dark was so
much more familiar. He would sit in the corner furthest from the door and
sleep with his eyes open.

URL: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5095223/1/The_Day_The_World_Went_Away

When he was thirteen, his mom kicked his brother out of the house. Four years later, as though it were a rite of passage, she kicked him out too. Marcus had been expecting it since the day she'd tossed Brian on the street, dumping his stash after him (keeping some for herself), letting him sit in the rain, stunned and furious. It wasn't raining the day she threw Marcus out. The cops had brought him back the night before, telling her if he got caught again, they wouldn't bring him home. She would have to bail him out. She'd smacked him so many times (once the cops were gone) he couldn't feel his cheek for the rest of the night. In the morning, he woke up to a bruise. But it didn't matter. He'd planned. Brian had a place. It was a shit hole, but it was a shit hole with a roof, and it was a shit hole where no one cared if you passed out at four in the afternoon because you'd overdone it on the meth.

It was good for him, he told himself the first night he spent sleeping on his brother's couch, trying to ignore the unpleasant moaning coming through the paper-thin walls. It was good for him.

( Come with me if you want to live. )

Solitary

The guards would leave the light out, which was against the law, but Marcus preferred it that way. The dark was so much more familiar. He would sit in the corner furthest from the door and sleep with his eyes open. That’s what it felt like, anyway. There was nothing to stimulate his senses, no sights, no sounds, no smells but for the slightly musty scent of stone and damp air. He liked to see how long he could go without blinking.

( A long time. )

Microfic - Babylon AD

Angst
Exit through the back. Had she given the bullet instructions?

AU
Then Marie, Toorop and the girls lived happily ever after.

Crackfic
Marie decided Troy Bolton was right for her after all.

Crossover
"It's a gerund," Dakin said. Toorop just stared at him.

Episode-related
Knuckles split against the man's teeth. Toorop felt Marie's screams.

First time
If Rebecca only knew he thought when he kissed her.

Fluff
When she woke up, he was still at her back.

Humor
On days he felt funny, she was "the Virgin Marie."

H/C
Feigning sleep when he woke from nightmares, her arms tightened.

Smut
His hand: large on her belly, tan against her pale.

UST
The bathroom was humid. Toorop could feel her damp breath

The day Jack went scab, Race let Spot kiss him

What Race didn't know, was that he was not the first boy Spot had kissed. Things would have made a lot more sense at the time, if he had known, but as it was, Spot's lips on his had been a surprise. The sensation was shock enough on it's own, but more startling was the fact that it didn't even occur to him that he should pull away. In a matter of seconds, the kiss had become so much more than either of them had ever intended.

Beginnings Race had thought as Spot's wiry, sixteen year old body pushed him up against the door of the men's bathroom in Tibby's.

( What Race didn't know, was that Jack Kelly had been the first boy Spot ever kissed. )

Microfic - Newsies

Angst
All he could do was watch him disappear.

AU
Shrapnel found him and for a moment Spot enjoyed it.

Crackfic
"It was hard," Race proclaimed, "but Lord Xenu is defeated."

Crossover
"Doctor who?" Race asked. "Just the Doctor," Spot replied, smiling.

Episode-related
The day Jack went scab, Race let Spot kiss him.

First time
The broken nose hurt, but adrenaline boiled his blood.

Fluff
Race's arm was warm around his waist. Spot was safe.

Humor
"Davey, he's drunk. Jack hits on lampposts when he's drunk!"

H/C
Spot couldn't sleep. Warm kisses stood between him and panic.

Smut
Until then, Race hadn't thought mouths belonged there.

UST
Spot could watch his hands for hours, always leaving unsatisfied.

Two Fusiliers

Robert left on a Wednesday. He came back on a Monday. There were four years in between. And it was the in between, of course, that was so interesting. It's usually the in betweens, he found himself thinking as he watched Nancy come down the aisle in her white lace. Apple cheeks. She had apple cheeks.

( Siegfried had never had apple cheeks. )

FUGAZI

( The waiting was the bad part. He’d sit there with a cigarette hanging aimlessly between his lips and he’d never notice when it went out. )

( There were certain things about the war that he liked. )

Microfic - Newsies and 3:10 to Yuma

( He wasn't sure he'd actually like cows. )

( When he got his first cigar, he coughed until he puked. )

( Every so often, Charlie thought maybe he'd caught Wade looking at him. )

Returns

Two years. Jack Kelly had been gone for two years and Spot had almost forgotten about him. He’d disappeared one night without warning, without goodbyes, not even Davey knew where he’d gone off to. Spot had shrugged when people asked him about it, but at night he would lay awake imagining all the places Jack could have gone to, all the trouble he could be in. Maybe he was dead. Maybe he was married. Maybe he had gotten bored with New York and newspapers and Spot. The thought curled Spot’s lip. People didn’t get bored with him. He just wasn’t a boring guy.

( And then, two years three months and a week and half after the night on the dock when Spot had almost said the words out loud and Jack had almost said them back, he showed up in Brooklyn, sitting on the ferry wharf looking the same as when he’d left. )

Faithless Child

Title: Faithless Child
Genre: General/Friendship
Rating: T
Summary: "You're faithless," Jack said listlessly. "You're drunk," Spot said
in response.
Read it here: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4237407/1/

“You’re faithless,” Jack said listlessly as he let the empty bottle of whiskey drop to the ground and rattle around his feet on the pavement. Two seconds previously he had sunk to the curb and leaned forward to let his head rest on his knees.

“You’re drunk,” Spot said in response, not feeling entirely sober himself. Still, Jack was much worse. ( It looked as though he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. )

Sacrifice is the Watchword

Spot, as a rule, didn't sleep when Race did. He couldn't. Someone had to keep watch, the quiet voice said in the back of his head as he stared at the ceiling for hours on end. There was nothing to watch out for, of course. They were living in Brooklyn these days. Spot hadn't said it out loud, but he didn't really feel safe anywhere else, even Manhattan. Brooklyn was just familiar enough, so deeply ingrained in his mind that even when he would pass construction sites and a jackhammer would go off, he wouldn't jump. Anywhere else and a loud noise sent him diving for the nearest foxhole. He hated that.

( The ceiling of their bedroom had a crack running diagonally across it, from one corner to the opposite. )

Unrequited

There was a point, in the last minutes of Charlie Prince’s life, when he looked from Ben standing in front of him to the rancher bleeding out on the ground and saw with crystalline clarity how much of a waste his time with Ben Wade had been. It wasn’t a completely new revelation. From his first days with Wade the thought had lingered in the back of his mind as he watched Wade kill off his own men one by one. He’d shot Tommy with the same casual aim he’d shot a coyote two nights before. Ben hadn’t even bothered to shoot him in the head, but had instead hit Tommy in the throat to let him bleed to death. He hadn’t even cared enough to kill the boy quickly.

( But it wouldn’t ever be him, Charlie had thought as he robbed stagecoaches, shot deputies and burned railroad depots, all for Ben Wade. )