dresden_kink | Round Four IS CLOSED

Round Four is closed to new prompts and fills. Go to Round Five

| Round One: open only for feedback, WIPs continued in The Overflow Post or Round Four |
| Round Two: open only for feedback, WIPs continued in The Overflow Post or Round Four |
| Round Three: open only for feedback and WIPs continuation |
| if you previously continued your WIP in The Overflow Post or Round Four, keep going where ever you like, just link link link! |

Round Four: Closed

Read this first. Do it. It's not here to be pretty.

The Rules. Including the Posting Guidelines. aka:

In the first line of your fill, please include:

Character(s)/Pairing(s)/Threesome(s)/Moresome(s) as applicable; Any kinks included; MANDATORY WARNINGS if there is dubcon or noncon, underage characters in sexual situations, and/or major character death. Please don't conflate warnings and kinks; treat each individually, and use your pairings to indicate gen/het/slash/multi/&c. Do not warn for het, slash, or otherwise.

For images: Please post image prompts and fills with alt tag descriptions or with a text description of the piece. Example: [img src="neked.jpg" alt="Here's John being all hot and half naked saying Dresden et cetera et cetera"]. If you are linking to an external image, please include a description with the link.

Thank you.

The discussion post is here. Mod questions go here. The delicious account is here.

Don't forget about all the unfilled prompts. Got an unfilled prompt you want to give a second chance? Repost it here. Otherwise, go ahead and repost an unfilled prompt as a new comment with a link to the original if you are filling it.

Comments in chronological order: http://dresden-kink.dreamwidth.org/2675.html?view=flat

Any prompts, fills, discussion, or meta featuring authentic Ghost Story spoilers should be posted on the Ghost Story post.

ROUND FOUR IS CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS AND FILLS. GO TO ROUND FIVE. YOU CAN CONTINUE YOUR ROUND FOUR WIPS HERE.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Sorry for the delay; I wound up scrapping about 2000 words of Harry and John making awkward conversation at a local diner after realizing that it had no relevance to the plot. Here, have some infodump with bonus Thomas.
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I woke from a dream of slanted green eyes and strong hands and dragged myself to the bathroom, feeling sticky and ashamed, and saying a silent prayer of thanks that Thomas was still asleep on the couch and couldn't make any of his usual helpful comments. It wasn't the first time this had happened, or even the fiftieth. In the days after I first met John Marcone, I'd been horrified at my own reactions -- both at the 'homosexual urges' (Justin's words) that I'd convinced myself I'd gotten over, and the moral weakness that having those urges for a man like Marcone revealed.

I held onto that fear for months, until Susan made a project of coaxing every shameful fantasy I'd ever had out of me and whispering them back into my ear, along with a few of her own, as she rode me until we both came to the sound of her voice. After that, my deep dark secret never-to-be-acted-upon infatuation with Chicago's resident mob boss seemed a lot less deep and dark, and a lot more like something she and I could laugh about together. After Susan left, it became a moot point: I couldn't bring myself to even think about sex, let alone sex with someone else, for over a year, and I was still piecing myself back together.

In the weeks since my last conversation with Marcone, though, it felt like a barrier had been brought down. I don't know why seeing that one small moment of both weakness and strength made such a difference when I'd already seen his darkest secrets, but it did. Before, he'd been a cardboard villain, a prop in some of my kinkier fantasies, even a force of nature. Now, I found myself overwhelmed by my new awareness of John Marcone, Flawed Human Being, at the oddest moments. Brushing my teeth on autopilot in the mornings, I would get caught up wondering if Marcone flossed, if he used one of those fluoride mouthwashes, if he hated the taste but forced himself to rinse anyway, or if he bought the stuff and let it sit in his medicine cabinet untouched.

Along with all these revelations came a shocking awareness of his body. Suddenly, I could pull up photo-perfect memories of the tendons in his wrists, the line of his throat, the strong curve of his back in the t-shirt he'd worn to visit Amanda. I had at least two years' worth of images in my head that I hadn't even realized I'd been hoarding.

The problem was, seeing Marcone as a person meant I had a whole new reason to feel guilty for lusting after him. There was a decent chance the soulgaze had shown him how I'd reacted to him at our first meeting, and I'd always assumed that a few mildly flirtatious mannerisms -- the way he leaned in when he spoke to me, or held my gaze for just a bit too long -- meant he knew about my attraction to him and wasn't above using it against me. Now, I was forced to face the possibility that he had no idea. He might have been a criminal scumbag, but the thought of how violated he might feel if he knew what I was thinking chilled me more than the freezing water.

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By the time I got out of the shower, Thomas was long gone. I threw on a t-shirt and jeans and puttered into the kitchen for some coffee. In the middle of the kitchen table was a six-inch-high model of R2-D2, sitting on a folded piece of paper. Unfolded, the paper read, in Thomas' sprawling handwriting:

Saw this at the Maxwell Street Market, thought of you. Sorry about that thing.
Thomas

followed by a heart and a little smiley face. A little odd, maybe, but that was how Thomas signed all his letters, including the angry five-page screeds about the broken hot water heater he sometimes left stuck to the icebox. It was a habit he'd cultivated in his years at House Raith and now found impossible to break.

I picked up the model and turned it in my hands, and one of the side panels dropped down when I pressed it. Behind the panel was a small, circular hole about a quarter of an inch in diameter. I picked up an old, half-chewed pencil and poked it in experimentally, and R2-D2 made a grinding noise. I yanked the pencil out, then stared at it.

The tip looked sharper.

I stuck the pencil back in, and R2 whirred for a moment, then stopped and emitted a series of happy beeping noises. I pulled the pencil back out. The tip had been sharpened to a needle point.

My mind was filled with visions of ripping my old, gummy pencil sharpener off the wall in my workroom and melting it down to ashes. Why had never thought of building a magical pencil sharpener? Then I noticed another panel, this one with the raised outline of two AA batteries. The thing was clearly some sort of electrical device, which meant that it would last about five minutes around me, if I was careful. Still, it had been fun while it lasted.

I stuck the pencil back in. R2-D2 whirred.

When Thomas got back from his new job, he found me sitting at the kitchen table surrounded by at least six dozen pencils, all of them sharpened down to nubs. "Thomas," I said, "I forgive you. I forgive you for things you haven't even done yet. In fact, I will re-plaster that wall myself."

"Forget the wall," Thomas said. "We've got bigger problems. I talked to Mrs. Moderatz, and she didn't send the roses."

Reluctantly, I set down pencil number seventy-something. "Maybe she was just being coy?" Thomas gave me a look. Okay, it did seem a little farfetched.

"She asked if I was high," Thomas said. "And then she kept me there for forty-five minutes telling me about her sister's nephew who got addicted to 'the marijuana'." He pronounced it with a hard j, and made little air quotes with his fingers.

"Okay, so, someone else sent them," I said. "Someone sent me flowers. It's probably not a sinister plot. Tell me what you did to make this thing keep working."

"What thing?"

"The pencil sharpener," I said, holding it up. "The one you left me this morning."

Thomas froze. "The pencil sharpener I left you," he said, slowly.

"Yeah," I said. "You left a note." I passed the paper to him, and he took it gingerly and unfolded it, holding it as far away from his body as possible.

"It's your handwriting," I said, dumbly.

"Yeah," Thomas said, his face grim. "It is."

BWAHA. Oh man, I wonder if Marcone realizes just how panicked-flaily he's making them?

I'm going to say... no. :) Thanks for commenting!

Geek pressie that has been magicked to keep working? You go John! Harry would so be putty in your hands :D

OMG DYING HERE. I don't know what's more precious/hilarious - the continued Thomas-Harry Odd Couple hijinks and looming concern over Evil Mysterious Flowers and Geeky Pencil Sharpener...

Or the thought of how much work John is putting into his little love-gifts. Roses, sure, fine. But he has apparently (a) bought the doofy pencil sharpener, which must have been interesting for the poor clerk ringing up Star Wars merchandise for Chicago's crime lord, then (b) convinced Gard to do something to make it magic-safe, then (c) learned to forge Thomas's handwriting, including a little happy face and heart, and (d) gotten it past Harry's wards and into his apartment while Harry was taking a shower. *boggles*

Although possibly the most adorable thing of all is Harry having no experience with an electric pencil sharpener, and how fascinated he is.

I want to cuddle them all.

Thank you! I've been trying not to respond to comments while I get this freaking thing written, but this definitely improved my day.

...now with 100% less anon!fail.

Round Four IS CLOSED

[FILL] If It Makes You Happy 3/at least 5 (Dresden/Marcone)

Re: [FILL] If It Makes You Happy 3/at least 5 (Dresden/Marcone)

Re: [FILL] If It Makes You Happy 3/at least 5 (Dresden/Marcone)

Re: [FILL] If It Makes You Happy 3/at least 5 (Dresden/Marcone)

Re: [FILL] If It Makes You Happy 3/at least 5 (Dresden/Marcone)

Re: [FILL] If It Makes You Happy 3/at least 5 (Dresden/Marcone)