dresden_kink | Round Four IS CLOSED

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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

Firstly, I would like to point out that this story is set just before Dead Beat, which means sometime 2004-2005. Secondly, I would like to apologize to everyone for the shamelessly self-indulgent nature of this section of the fill. Please don't stop reading. I swear on my mother's grave, the end is in sight.
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"I'm going to talk to Marcone," I announced.

"Great," Thomas said. "Try not to shame the family by drooling on him." He looked up at my spluttering face, and shrugged. "You've been living here longer than I have. You should know how thin the walls are."

"That's crazy," I said, feeling my face turn red. "I don't-"

"Performance anxiety?" Thomas asked, sympathetically. "I could explain what to do, if you need help."

I explained to Thomas what he could do in graphic detail, and made a dignified exit, manfully ignoring the sound of Thomas cackling in the background. I don't know why all the women I know describe his laugh as 'rich' and 'melodic.' He sounds like a rabid hyena.

------------------------

Marcone's current office building was a honeycomb structure of shining glass and steel. The receptionist didn't look impressed by my worn jeans and "Save a broom, ride a wizard" T-shirt, but when I introduced myself her eyes widened and she pressed a button underneath her desk.

Two minutes later, Cujo Hendricks came striding out of the elevator. It might just be my imagination, but his eyes seemed to contain at least 300 percent more murderous hatred than usual. I had no idea why that might be, but then, who knows what lurks in the mind of Cujo, or if anything lurks in the mind of Cujo at all.

"He's in a meeting," Hendricks said.

"I'll wait," I said.

Hendricks grunted, then turned on his heel and strode off back towards the elevator. For lack of a better idea, I followed him.

In the enforced stillness of the long, tense elevator ride up to the eightieth floor, I found time to reflect on my next move, and wished that I hadn't. I'd been moving forward with a simple logical momentum: I have questions, Marcone knows things, ergo, talk to Marcone. Trouble was, that logic was so tenuous it fell apart if you so much as looked at it hard. Marcone wasn't a magic user, he wasn't actually omnipotent no matter how hard he pretended otherwise, and there was no way that he, personally, would get involved in something this petty.

And there, I realized, was the problem. On some level, I'd been hoping Marcone *was* involved. After all, he certainly had the resources to pull it off; hell, he probably had the blueprints to my apartment, along with the measurements for that stupid alcove. But he had no reason to. If he were trying to spy on me, he'd do it unobtrusively; if he were trying to kill me, he'd have done it already. And if it were some sort of courtship -- which, let's face it, was vanishingly unlikely even to begin with -- why send me gifts and claim they were from Thomas? It was insane. I was insane. And if I stayed, I was going to have to explain all this to Marcone.

I had to get out of there.

The elevator door opened onto a waiting room with a blindingly white carpet and an enormous glass wall with a stunning view of the city skyline. "Listen," I said, and Hendricks shoved me through the elevator door.

At the other end of the room were two closed doors, and between those doors was a huge, sleek desk made of black marble. Behind that desk, Marcone's secretary looked up from her computer screen. She was plump, in her late fifties, and looked like someone's beloved kindergarten teacher, or maybe Clark Kent's mom. She smiled warmly at me and turned to Hendricks. "Why, Nathan, who have you brought me today?"

"Dresden," Hendricks said, and pushed me against the wall, as far as possible from the computer on her desk. The smile fell off Mrs. Kent's face like a steel grate slamming down, and she glowered at me.

"You know what," I said, "this isn't really that important. I can--"

Mrs. Kent turned away, ignoring me completely, and punched a code into her phone. Three seconds later, the left-hand door opened, and Marcone walked through. I could hear several uncertain voices asking, "Mr. Marcone?" and one loud, genial male voice shouting, "Johnny, what the fuck?" Marcone ignored them all.

"Mr. Dresden," he said. "This is unexpected. How may I be of service?"

"As I was just telling Cujo here," I said, "this isn't urgent, and you're in a meeting."

"The meeting is not especially important," Marcone said. "Tell me what you've come here for, and I'll do my best to see that you get it."

"No, really," I said. "It's not-"

"Hendricks!" the voice bellowed from inside the conference room. "Tell that Dago cocksucker to either get his ass back in here or order us some more of those fucking canapes."

"Rod, shut the fuck up," Marcone yelled back, then sighed deeply. "Though I prefer to associate with a better class of people, my business sometimes forces me to become involved in local politics. Distasteful, but necessary. You were saying?"

Rod? "Is that the governor in there?"

"As I said," Marcone replied, waving his hand, "unimportant. Please continue."

"It's not a big deal," I said. "It's not even that interesting. Seriously, go back to your meeting."

Marcone made eye contact and held it. "I assure you, Mr. Dresden, there is nothing you could possibly have to say that would not interest me."

I opened my mouth to respond, but found I couldn't remember a single word in the English language. I couldn't even connect the words Marcone had just spoken to me. There was something important happening, and I was missing it. I knew I was flailing, and I didn't know how to stop. I clenched my hands, and my palms were slick with sweat.

"Hey," the voice yelled. "Tell him I'm gonna chew my own arm off."

"Tell him he can blow me," Marcone shouted, not looking away.

"Listen," I said, and found to my relief that I could form words again. "I never thought I would say these words to you, but I apologize. I apologize for wasting your time. I'm going to go now. I'll see you around."

As I spoke, I backed into the elevator and hit the button for the lobby frantically. Marcone stepped towards me and opened his mouth to speak, but as he did, the doors slid shut. The stupid things were made out of glass, though, like everything else in that building, so I got to stand there silently for what felt like an hour watching Marcone stand there, frozen, before the elevator finally began to move and he rose out of sight.

I just wanna hug Marcone. ;___; Harry's so confused. Of course, I do now have this mental image:

Thomas: why are you stalking my baby brother?
Marcone: ... I was unaware you had a younger brother Mr Raith. However, seeing as how I have no clue of what you're talking about, what are you talking about.
Thomas: I know what you've done. *eyes him warily* I'm gonna be keeping an eye on you, and you better not step outa line....
Marcone: ....

...yeah, you just described all their interactions for the next ten years at least.

HAAAA BLAGO. Oh man. All the gold stars. I've been dying to see that in fic somewhere.

It is my deeply held conviction that while John began to distance himself from Blagojevich in late 2006 to save his own ass from the coming storm of crazy, he genuinely enjoyed working with him and even today regards him with the same fondness one might feel for a really stupid puppy who keeps chewing on the rug.

(John as secret backer for the children's subsidized health care plan, y/y?)

Oh, boys. Communication is not a four letter word. I really hurt for Marcone in this. He told all of his employees to fast-track Harry and I don't even think Harry noticed. It looks like he finally got clipped by the clue trout!

Eh, Harry's pretty resistant to clue-based impacts. :(

"Hendricks!" the voice bellowed from inside the conference room. "Tell that Dago cocksucker to either get his ass back in here or order us some more of those fucking canapes."

"Rod, shut the fuck up," Marcone yelled back, then sighed deeply. "Though I prefer to associate with a better class of people, my business sometimes forces me to become involved in local politics. Distasteful, but necessary. You were saying?"

I am drawing a heart around this part. For some reason I love Marcone swearing.

I am drawing a heart around this part. For some reason I love Marcone swearing.

Years ago, I had to read a bunch of Illinois racketeering trial transcripts for a research paper, and they were spectacular. They were full of exchanges like:

P: Sir, what did the defendant then say to you?
W: He said, "Don't fuck with me, you fucking cuntface, I will rip your fucking dick off and fuck you in the ass with it."
P: And how did you respond?
W: I said, "Fuck you, you fucking cocksucking fuck."

Just as there is no logical proposition that cannot be expressed with only the 'and' and 'not' operators, there was no human concept that these people could not express using nothing but variations on the word 'fuck'. I believe there is no possible way that Marcone, having come up through the ranks in the late eighties, cannot swear more eloquently than the entire cast of Deadwood tied together and set on fire.

Oh BOYS. You are ridiculous, but you are so very loveable.

LOL @ Marcone's whole staff being equal parts RED ALERT ACTIVATE DRESDEN PROTOCOL and "You heartless hussy, how dare you string the boss along like this?" Especially as John has clearly been going off the rails a bit with the number of presents he's finding.

Marcone's staff are totally planning an intervention, just as soon as they work up the courage to not all hide in single file behind Hendricks while they do it.

Okay, that mental image made me laugh really hard. <3

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Round Four IS CLOSED

[FILL] If It Makes You Happy 5/okay, 7, but for real this time (Dresden/Marcone)

Re: [FILL] If It Makes You Happy 5/okay, 7, but for real this time (Dresden/Marcone)

Re: [FILL] If It Makes You Happy 5/okay, 7, but for real this time (Dresden/Marcone)

Re: [FILL] If It Makes You Happy 5/okay, 7, but for real this time (Dresden/Marcone)

Re: [FILL] If It Makes You Happy 5/okay, 7, but for real this time (Dresden/Marcone)

Re: [FILL] If It Makes You Happy 5/okay, 7, but for real this time (Dresden/Marcone)

Re: [FILL] If It Makes You Happy 5/okay, 7, but for real this time (Dresden/Marcone)

Re: [FILL] If It Makes You Happy 5/okay, 7, but for real this time (Dresden/Marcone)

Re: [FILL] If It Makes You Happy 5/okay, 7, but for real this time (Dresden/Marcone)

Re: [FILL] If It Makes You Happy 5/okay, 7, but for real this time (Dresden/Marcone)

Re: [FILL] If It Makes You Happy 5/okay, 7, but for real this time (Dresden/Marcone)

Re: [FILL] If It Makes You Happy 5/okay, 7, but for real this time (Dresden/Marcone)