Filled Fic Prompts

[brigdh]

I have actually written a drabble and/or ficlet for every prompt in that fic request meme! This is the first time I've managed to actually respond to all the requests in years, so I feel very accomplished.

Drabbles
For just_ann_now: Jessica Campion, A dangerous daughter in a leopard print skirt / A Polaroid camera recording the dirt (Suede: Attitude)

Typically, each sailor gets one share of the prizes. The captain gets ten shares. The cabin boy– girl– gets half.

It wasn’t much gold, so Jessica made her choice from the cargo. She sorted through spices and wines, cotton cloth and silk, until she found it.

The pelt was pale gold, adorned with wild black rosettes, and nearly as long as she was tall. She reached out and stroked her palm across the short soft fur, and smelled leather and musk. She thought of hot summers and dry grass, the silent stalk of hunting cats.

“I’ll take this,” Jessica said.
Also on AO3

For just_ann_now: Richard/Alec, Ever since you left I've thought of nothing else / Been a man possessed by the way your touch felt (Simone White: What the Devil Brings)

Richard had been seduced before, and usually found the process somewhat boring, but Alec’s approach was new. He flickered between skittishness and ferocity, both inept and boundlessly arrogant. He once drawled in a condescending tone, “Why won’t you leave me alone?”, and immediately followed it with a consuming kiss, long fingers knotted in Richard’s hair. He broke away just as abruptly, and Richard dreamed of him that night, of his wine-tart mouth.

He was beautiful and clever and made people uneasy. Richard wanted him. Alec’s smile bared his teeth, and he took his victory in a gratifyingly unpredictable way.
Also on AO3

For egelantier: Jude/Kit (Untamed - Anna Cowan), "Down the stairs the lady came thinking no harm / Lankin he stood ready to catch her in his arm" (Steeleye Span: Long Lankin)

A gust of winter air and the scent of frost accompanied Jude into the parlor, his cheeks and nose red with cold above his sable collar. Kit caught him in her arms, and he laughed out loud, pressing his cold face to her warm neck. Her chest felt tight, pleased at his pleasure, and still somehow surprised by it.

His hair held one perfect snowflake, its minuscule crystalline structure unmelted. She touched it with a fingertip, and it dissolved into clear water. She showed it to him, smiling, and he dipped his head and sucked the drop from her skin.
Also on AO3

For ranalore: Hisoka/Tatsumi/Tsuzuki, "Does it matter that our anchors / Couldn't even reach the bottom / Of a bath tub?" (Regina Spektor: Sailor Song)

Tsuzuki loves Tatsumi. Loved- past tense. Because now he loves Hisoka. The two of them couldn’t be more different: Tatsumi’s careful restraint is nothing like Hisoka’s brash impulsiveness; Tatsumi’s dark hair and lean muscles share no qualities with the fine, golden bangs that always fall into Hisoka’s eyes, or the deceptive delicacy of Hisoka’s wrists and face. There’s no way Tsuzuki’s emotions could be confused, that he might desire them both.

He has so little to offer either. If one would indulge him it would be miraculous; two is beyond imagining. But he can’t be held responsible for his dreams.
Also on AO3

For lady_ganesh: Welcome to Night Vale, "I love you, I swear it, I would never lie / But I fear for our lives and I fear your closed eyes" (Wakey!Wakey!: War Sweater)

The Whispering Forest loves you. The Whispering Forest understands you. No one has ever understood you like the Whispering Forest does; no one will ever love you as much. You are soulmates. You were meant to be together. Haven’t you felt lonely, in the night? Haven’t you felt that ache of separation, of something missing? The Whispering Forest knows. The Whispering Forest could take away your pain, if you let it.

You can trust the Whispering Forest. The Whispering Forest will make you whole. The Whispering Forest will protect you from the world. Come. You will never want to leave.
Also on AO3

For veleda_k: Hakkai/Gojyo, "Now the hard times are behind us / So let's not be alone" (Cherry Poppin' Daddies: Hi & Lo)

Hakkai had swept, mopped, dusted, aired, and generally done every wifely chore necessary to return their old house to a state he found acceptable. Though “wifely” probably wasn’t the right word for what he had done to the mice nesting in the oven.

“Impressive.”

Hakkai shrugged. “Oh, it was nothing much. Merely some tidying.”

“Still. It looks like a home. A place worth coming back to.” Gojyo ducked his head as he spoke, taking a cigarette out of the carton and putting it back unsmoked.

Hakkai glanced at him and then away, suppressing a small smile. “I suppose it does.”
Also on AO3


Longer fic-bits
For somebraveapollo: Gabriel Corbier (Benjamin January mysteries), "Momma once told me / You're already home where you feel loved" (The Head and the Heart: Lost in My Mind)

Mama didn’t have a family. She must’ve used to have one, because everyone had to, but whoever they'd been they weren't around no more, and she never talked about them. Once Gabriel had asked her where she came from, but she only said, “That ain’t no concern of yours,” and set him to scrubbing the big cooking pot.

He couldn’t picture Mama as a little girl. Not a normal one, anyway, not like his sisters or Jeanne from next door. They cried and tattled secrets and dragged their doll-babies everywhere; he knew Mama had always been tall and strong and brave.

So one day when a man and woman came to dinner, and Mama told Gabriel to call them Uncle Ben and Aunt Minou, he wondered if maybe she had made them herself, called them up out of blood or herbs or just the right color candle so she could have a family too. Normal brothers and sisters didn’t just arrive like that, with no warning and already full-grown. Besides, there had to be parents for there to be children, and no one mentioned a grand-père or grand-mère.

But if they were spirits, they didn’t show any signs of it, and Gabriel had watched them real close. They looked and talked just like anyone else, and when Uncle Ben shook his hand, it felt solid and warm. Their shadows didn’t go off for walks or turn into animals, the way Will said ghosts’ were always doing.

Just in case, though, he didn’t go too close, and after they left he tried to get Mama to tell him who they really were. But no matter how much he promised to keep it a secret, she wouldn’t change her story.

“You didn’t have no brother and sister yesterday,” he said stubbornly.

“Oh, and you know everything there is to know, do you?” she said, but she wasn’t really mad; he could tell. She scrubbed her fingers through his hair, looking at him like she was thinking about something else. “Sometimes you just got to let yesterday go, Gabriel. It can get in your way.”

“So... who are they?”

She rolled her eyes and thumped him lightly on the back of his head. “They’re my family, and that’s all I got to say about it. Don’t let me catch you being rude to them.”
Also on AO3

For egelantier: Hannibal/Ben/Rose, "And even if the morning never comes / My hands are blessed to have touched the sun" (Local Natives: Sun Hands). This is in continuity with "Nothing Better or More Delightful", but can also be read without that.

The faint sound of music was the first thing January became aware of, but that wasn’t what had woken him. The room was dark and Rose was quiet and warm on her side of the bed, but something was wrong; January stretched out his other arm and touched nothing but sheets and an empty pillow, both already cool.

He found Hannibal sitting on the floor of the gallery overlooking the yard, back against the railing and violin under his chin. His eyes were closed, but January must have made some sound, because Hannibal cut off the song in the middle of a phrase. “I’m sorry. I thought out here I wouldn’t disturb anyone.”

“You didn’t. I woke on my own.”

Hannibal raised his eyebrows and glanced up at the sky, still midnight-black with stars shining bright. Dawn wasn’t far away, though there was no sign of the coming light yet. But whatever he privately thought, he made no comment. There were sleepless bruises beneath his eyes, and a certain tightness to his mouth that spoke of pain endured.

“Couldn’t sleep?” January said, trying to keep his tone light. “Is your leg bothering you?”

Hannibal lowered his violin and bow to the floor by his side, and reached for his lower right leg, where he’d cracked the bone in a fall a month ago. He pressed cautiously against his shin, taking stock. “I’ve felt worse,” he concluded. “Of course, I’ve felt better, too....”

There wasn’t much January could do for him. Hannibal was past the time when fever or sudden clots were likely, and into the period where there was nothing to do but wait for the body to heal itself, and meanwhile try not to discourage the slow reknitting of bones. If the pain was bad enough, January knew Hannibal would simply dose himself with laudanum until he found relief. In fact, the first place January had looked for him was in the bed in January's study; Hannibal had already shown a preference for sleeping alone when he was drugged. Neither January nor Rose had told him to do so, but Hannibal was scrupulously careful to never give offense.

Persuading Hannibal back to bed seemed unlikely, and January knew from previous experience that too overt sympathy would only make him uncomfortable. There might be nothing to do but keep him company in his hardship, but at least January could do that. He moved closer to Hannibal, leaning his elbows on the railing to look down into the shadowed yard. Over to the east, a few stars had begun to fade, and there was the slightest hint of grey to the world, though the sky remained black. “Go back to bed, Benjamin,” Hannibal said softly after a few silent minutes had passed. “I can manage.”

“I’m awake now. May as well stay out here with you.”

Hannibal looked up at him, but his protest was interrupted by Rose. “What are you two doing out here in the cold? Come into the kitchen; I’ve lit the fire.”

Hannibal turned to her, his expression halfway between regret and amusement. “Is no one going to sleep this morning?”

“It seems not,” Rose said. “I’m going to start the water for coffee.” She disappeared back through the door. January offered Hannibal a hand and, when he took it, helped him to his feet.

“Come to breakfast with us. Unless you’d rather sit out here in the dark, all alone,” January said, and was rewarded with Hannibal’s quiet laugh, and an increase in the weight he allowed January to take.
Also on AO3

For lynndyre: The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug/Benjamin January mysteries crossover, "Wind out of Oklahoma this morning smelled like blood and smoke" (The Mountain Goats: Pink and Blue)

The boat slipped quietly through the fog, gliding smoothly across water as still and flat as glass. The fog did strange things to sound; at one moment, they seemed to be entirely alone in the world, but by the next a voice or racket from Laketown was startlingly close. The white mist parted and the walls abruptly loomed above them; they’d arrived with a speed Bard hadn’t expected. He could hear one of the dwarves muttering, luckily somewhat muffled by the fish, and kicked the barrel in warning. The volume increased briefly, but then subsided into silence.

Bard handled the guards and bribes in his usual manner, his strategy changing only once they were within Laketown itself. He had regular connections who would buy whatever he could smuggle into the city, but under these circumstances he was more concerned with staying unseen than with getting an appropriate price. He headed for his own dock, staying out of view by taking side canals and avoiding the main marketplace. He thought he had managed it– the dwarves were quickly hustled out of their barrels and into his house with as little vocal protest as they seemed capable of– but when Bard paused for one last glance around, he noticed a man standing across the narrow strip of water looking directly back at him.

It was January, a man Bard didn’t know much of. He had a reputation for being honest, and mostly stayed out of politics, neither seeking the patronage of the Master nor openly defying him. Once or twice he had helped Bard offload heavy goods in exchange for payment. That, at least, boded well for the likelihood of his immediately betraying Bard to the Master.

As Bard watched, the surprise faded off of January’s face, to be replaced by an assessing look. He met Bard’s eyes evenly, then glanced down at Bard’s barge. “Good haul of fish today,” he called across the canal. His voice was carefully casual, as though there was nothing more unusual to remark on.

“Ah, yes,” Bard said, and hesitated before making a decision. “You interested in selling them for me? I have other work I need to do.”

“I could do that,” January said. He made his way across a nearby bridge and back to Bard’s dock, walking with neither hurry nor delay. As he came closer, Bard realized that he was a tall man, taller than Bard himself. January was handsome and dark-skinned, and clearly strong enough to have no difficultly poling Bard’s barge alone. Bard tilted the pole toward him, and for a moment both their hands were on its work-smoothed wood, their bodies near enough that a blow from either would be a simple thing, and would be sure to land solidly. Bard felt tension stiffen his muscles, and he straightened his shoulders and minutely widened his stance. But as he looked up into January’s face, the man only smiled somewhat crookedly in recognition of the caution that made every interaction a potential minefield. It was a likable expression, and Bard let himself relax.

He released his grip on the pole, and January stepped around him and onto the barge. He studied the fish scattered across its deck and awkwardly dumped out of the barrels, moving carefully to avoid stepping on one. When he looked back to Bard, his eyes were warm with amusement, though his face was straight. “Shouldn’t take long to sell these. There’s not much other food to buy, after all. I’ll bring you back what I earn this afternoon, if that’s all right?”

Bard nodded and stepped back from the dock, and January pushed off, the barge moving easily away.

***

It wasn’t January who came that afternoon, but his wife. Bard knew her somewhat better; she offered lessons in reading or numbers to Laketown’s girls, and his daughters would attend when they could afford to. She remained properly outside the door when he answered her knock, not sneaking a peek at the interior. Of course, thought Bard sourly, January had probably already told her all about the dwarves.

She carried a basket filled with odds and ends– Bard could see several loaves of bread, a bag of apples, and a neatly woven scarf– which was to be expected. Laketown’s market operated more on barter than coin these days. A man stood behind her, thin of face and no taller than Mistress January, carrying a second basket. Bard distantly recognized him from having seen him with the Januarys before; he would have assumed the man was a brother or cousin, if he hadn’t looked nothing like either of them. “These belong to you, I understand,” she said, handing Bard her basket.

He accepted it, trying to keep his body angled in such a way as to keep the door mostly closed. His effort was rendered pointless as a squabble inside suddenly grew louder, the voices too deep to be his children’s. He thought he caught sight of one side of Mistress January’s mouth quirking up into a quickly repressed smile, but she turned before he was sure. She said nothing, merely taking the second basket from her friend and passing it to Bard.

“Thank you,” he said, conscious of his manners but wanting to end the conversation immediately.

“Please let us know if we may be of any additional assistance,” she said before he could close the door. “My husband and I understand that it’s not always possible to do both the right thing and the legal one. We’re willing to help you.”

Bard, only half-listening, muttered, “Of course,” and prodded her foot off of his threshold and once more began to shut the door. She let herself be backed up, but one of the dwarves caught the edge of its frame and held it in place against Bard’s efforts. “You are in hiding,” Bard said, meaning to whisper but coming closer to a shout.

The dwarf– it was the oldest one, his beard and hair gone entirely white, whom Bard thought was named Balin- ignored him, looking Mistress January carefully up and down. He frowned, staring at her so intensely that it boarded on offensive. Mistress January’s eyebrows went up, but she calmly folded her hands in front of her waist and waited for him to finish. Finally Balin nodded, having apparently judged her trustworthy. “We’ve got an injured dwarf in here. The wound looks infected. Anything you can do about that?”

“My husband’s a healer.” She turned to her friend. “Go and bring Benjamin, tell him–”

“No,” Bard said. “Tell him nothing. There’s already enough people in and out of here to be suspicious. Besides, I’ve never heard of him being a healer before now.”

Mistress January didn’t flinch at the implied accusation. “And how many people in Laketown can afford medicine, when the matter isn’t life-threatening? We all do what we must to survive.”

“Kili needs a healer,” Balin said, pulling Bard’s gaze away from Mistress January. “Let her bring her husband, or I’ll go and find one myself.”

Bard held out for another few seconds, but relented and opened the door wide. Mistress January quickly caught the hand of her friend and pressed it, releasing him to speed away. She turned to Bard with a smile, lifting her skirts to cross the threshold.
Also on AO3