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dresden_kink_mods ([personal profile] dresden_kink_mods) wrote in [community profile] dresden_kink2011-07-19 08:28 pm
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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.


Bring Not All Mischief 12/?

(Anonymous) 2012-01-23 05:02 pm (UTC)(link)
Raith immediately pulled out his phone, and secreted himself in one corner of the room. Hendricks and Gard were hives of subdued activity, each tap of their fingers getting John a little closer to Harry.

Then Gard stood, and with a nod to John, left the room. He took a deep breath. He pulled out his own phone, and debated placing the call. They only had fifty-nine minutes now; hard to know if Kincaid could even get to Chicago in time. Still, there wasn't anything else he could do just at present. But as he moved his thumb to the place the call, his phone rang. Kincaid's number. John picked up. "Marcone," he identified himself, in some semblance of his normal voice.

"The kid said there was a seventy-nine percent chance you're call. I don't like waiting around," Kincaid said smoothly. "Also, she said to tell you, 'there are no records'. I assume you know what that means."

And the horror of it was, John did. There had been no records of any plans to kidnap Harry. Nothing written down, until the Outfit's texts had started flying through the ether. A plan like this, to capture a man as powerful as Harry, had to be so carefully crafted, so complex, there were only two reasons John could imagine where there wouldn't be something written down, however briefly. One: Harry's adversary or adversaries were so powerful not to need such a plan; or two: they were deliberately keeping The Archive out of the loop.

And yes, Ivy cared about Harry. Cared about John, too, he knew. But she was also neutral. It was possible, though John didn't think it likely, that she would -- or possibly, could choose to help them. It was much more likely that it was because The Archive herself was the target of the attack. God, John hoped that wasn't true.

It also meant there was no way in hell John would ask for Kincaid's help, not when there was a chance Harry was merely bait in a trap to get Ivy, just as there was no way in hell Kincaid would ever give it. "I understand completely, Mr. Kincaid. Please pass on my regards to The Archive."

"Will do," Kincaid said, the closest John suspect the Hellhound had come to an apology in centuries, and cut the line.

John cradled the phone in one hand, the other one coming up to cover his mouth. T-57. He reshuffled his mental list of likely suspects against this new information, and made a decision. There were proper channels, but John didn't have time for them. Harry didn't have time for them. The White Council had both the sheer power to trap Harry and the knowledge to keep Ivy out of the loop, and motivation enough to do so. But Harry, team player that he was, had given John -- for emergency use only, John! I mean it! -- the local Warden hotline number. John dialed.

"Yes?" a polite and youthful male voice, with the slightest trace of a French accent, answered.

"This is John Marcone, Freeholding Lord of the Unseelie Accords. Forgive me, I don't have time for pleasantries. I am calling on an urgent and time-sensitive Accords matter that I have reason to believe involves your Council. Under the terms of the Accords, I must ask you to pass my call to Captain Luccio or a member of the senior council."

"Sir," the voice temporized, "that may take some time. Perhaps --"

"No," John growled. "It will not. If you cannot immediately pass me to Luccio or the senior council, then pass me to the most senior wizard in your vicinity. I will not be put off. I am considering appropriate responses under the terms of the Accords as we speak."

"One moment, sir," the voice said. He didn't put John on hold, though. John could hear frantic whispering in the background, though he couldn't make out what was being said. A door opened and closed, and opened and closed again. He looked at the clock. T-53.

The phone scraped off the desk as it was lifted up, and a soft breath came down the line. "This is Captain Luccio, Baron Marcone," and this time, the youthful voice had centuries of experience behind it.

"Harry has been kidnapped. I don't have all the details yet, but I have enough to consider the White Council among the most likely candidates for this attack," John said, keeping his voice measured only by years of practice in stressful situations. "I am not going to mince words, Captain. If the council has taken my husband, I want him returned, unharmed, and I will considered arbitration under terms instead of launching an immediate --"

"Baron Marcone," Luccio broke in, voice serious. "We have not taken your husband."

"Think carefully, Captain. I am not like the rest of you. I do not play word games. If the White Council has not authorized this kidnapping, but one or more of its members are found to be involved, I will take every inch of action I am allowed under the Accords. And if that does not satisfy my revenge, I would caution you to remember that I wasn't always the Baron of Chicago."

"I am aware of your lack of respect for the law, Baron," Luccio said. "Do not imagine me impressed by your threats. No one has authorized unauthorized jaunts to take back your husband. And if someone has indeed taken action against Harry, let me assure you, we wish to hunt them as much as you do." Code for the Black Council, perhaps? John was finding himself in the odd position of believing her, but it still gained him nothing. "Further, do not imagine that you present a threat to us. You do not. You have seen the damage one wizard, not even forty years old, can do. Should it come to war between us, you would lose."

It was said so calmly, so baldly, that it gave John pause. And in that pause, he had time to think. It was true. Harry had spoken, from time to time, of the feats of the senior council. The Merlin's control, The Gatekeeper's knowledge, his mentor's sheer power, pulling a satellite from the very sky. So why had the Leanansidhe chosen him? Oh, she'd said something about desiring Harry's happiness, but she cared much more about his safety, and even Harry had referred to John as "someone the White Council wants to piss off less than they want to kill me". But Luccio was correct. John was not a threat to the Council, not on his own. Not even with the resources of the Outfit behind him. Had he been a potential ally, then? Or merely a sufficiently tenacious opponent that war with him would have taken too many resources from their war with the Red Court? Either way, it didn't matter.

"My apologies, Captain," John said, drawing in a breath, and with it, some semblance of self-control.

"Think nothing of it," she said. "You are living a nightmare. Grief is only to be expected." She paused. "Should information related to the disappearance of your consort come to my attention, I will see to it that it is passed to you immediately."

"Thank you," John said, preparing to end a second fruitless call, when a thought occurred. "In a similar spirit, I feel I should note that one of the reasons I considered the White Council a likely source of the attack was that I received information that there were no records of plans to kidnap Harry."

Luccio sucked in a sharp breath. "And I thank you, Baron Marcone." She cut the call. Hopefully, she would also take action, should it come to it.

Raith's conversation had begun sotto voce, but his voice had risen with his aggravation. "He would do it for you," Raith was telling someone, insistently. After a pause, he acknowledged, "Fine, he would do it for me, for you. And you know it!" Another pause, and then a quiet, sincere, "Thank you, Lara," followed by a sigh and, "Yeah. I know." Raith put the phone away and turned back to John. "Lara is sending Natalia and Elisa. Two of my sisters."

Normally, John would have balked at the presumption, if nothing else. But he couldn't care. They needed every warm body they could get, and every Raith was a super soldier. He'd worry about the cost later -- if there was a later. John nodded his thanks. T-49.

Hendricks continued tapping in the ensuing silence -- instructions to the gate, most likely. Mid-tap, his phone emitted a shrill cry, and Hendricks had the phone to his ear, and his eyes on John. "Hendricks." Then, "Get her to the cold room. I'll get someone down there. Stick someone on the board. Let me know if there's any contact. Last call?" A pause, a grunt, and another cut line. T-44. "Fran killed herself when Daly got to the mailroom. Bullet to the brain. Rossi last checked in himself at 6." An hour and a half before the party was due to start. Harry would have been running over time after 6.30, so Rossi's next check in should have been 6.45. So they had a window for when Harry had been kidnapped. Unfortunately, it was a big window.

"Get Gard to the cold room," John ordered. If there were clues on Fran's body, Gard would find them. "And order a scan for all the usual checks while they wait." Corpses could hold all sorts of unpleasant surprises, John had learned. Unlikely, in this case, but in usual battle irony, they were both short on time, and yet all they could do was wait…


Gard's call came in, a terse, "Red Court servitor," their first real break. So they knew who was behind the attack -- but that didn't tell them where Harry was being held.

John glanced -- again -- at the clock. T-29. "Is the nuclear option ready?" he asked. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hendricks grip his phone a little tighter. Sadly, those huge hands were unlikely to be pulling John's fat from the fire this time.

"Yes," Gard said, in cool counterpoint.

"Then I need you back here," John said.

"Hmm," Gard acknowledged, because Valkyrie-Berserker though she was, Gard had never quite managed to master the caveman grunt favored by Hendricks and Murphy.

John relayed Gard's information to Hendricks and Raith. Raith looked troubled; no surprises there, and picked up his phone again. John did so as well, sending a brief update to Kincaid. "Helen," Hendricks said unexpectedly. "She and Fran were friends. Or I guess Fran was friends with her."

And Helen had proven she had no problems working with anyone to get her revenge. And Rudolph, her stalking horse in her last salvo, had been bought off by the Red Court… click, click, click, the dominoes were falling into place… just not fast enough, and with the most important piece of information, Harry's location, not just out of reach, but entirely out of sight.

Hendricks' phone beeped. "Murphy's at the gate with what sounds like the Bordens and Sanya." Wielder of Esperacchius, last name unknown, John's brain supplied. T-27. Three minutes later, a Rolls Royce Silver Wraith pulled into the drive.

John went to dress. Hendricks followed him upstairs, ostensibly for the same purpose, but John had his doubts. Hendricks had a lot of problems with what John did, and not least with the risks he took. John asking a lot of Hendricks was nothing new; John had always asked a lot of Hendricks. Today, however… John suspected he might have crossed the line into asking too much. John had no doubt that Hendricks cared much more about John than he cared about John's friendship; Hendricks, thus, might ultimately present a problem. John hoped it wouldn't come to that, but it was one thing to watch a friend go into danger, and to their possible death. It was quite another to let them trade themselves into a living nightmare lovingly crafted by an enraged, powerful -- and, critically -- immortal sadist. T-18.

Hendricks knocked on the door to John's bedroom. John debated not answering; in the end he merely positioned himself so he could, if he had to, stop Hendricks from doing something they would both regret.

"Easy, Johnny," Hendricks said. "I'm not going to stop you."

"No," John said flatly, "You're not."

Hendricks rolled his eyes. "Okay. I'm not going to try. Happy now?"

Perhaps foolishly, given everything he knew about his friend, John trusted him, and relaxed his stance. "Dare I ask why?"

Hendricks nodded slowly. "I thought about it," he admitted. "But if I did, and something happened to Dresden -- "

"Nothing would ever be the same between us," John finished for him.

"Fuck that," Hendricks said, a trace of genuine anger behind the words. "You would never be the same."

John nodded to himself. Hendricks could live with John's anger, if it kept John alive and safe. But just as John had rules, sometimes inexplicable to outsiders, so did Hendricks. And John being alive and safe wasn't good enough for Hendricks. Amanda was alive and safe. They didn't talk about it, because they weren't those kind of men, but John's -- call it happiness, call it sanity -- mattered just as much as John's safety did to Hendricks, and frankly, he probably thought about them more than John himself did.

Eros, agape, storge, and philia; during Hendricks' Greek phase, he'd talked about them a lot and John had subsequently never been able to get them out of his skull. Plato had loved talking about love; John half-remembered Hendricks lecturing him on the fact that Plato mentioned the word 'freedom' in only one book, and there only three times. 'Love', by constrast, appeared over two hundred times across his works. Well, it wasn't like they could get each other Hallmark cards. A brother for a brother, he'd said himself, referring to Hendricks. Hendricks would let John walk into Hell, because he loved John too much do anything more.

And John, John would walk into Hell, eyes and arms wide open, because he loved Harry too much to do anything less.

No more lies.


Re: Bring Not All Mischief 12/?

(Anonymous) 2012-01-23 05:33 pm (UTC)(link)
Wow, this is great stuff. The tension's really ratcheting up, and I'm loving it. - OP

Re: Bring Not All Mischief 12/?

(Anonymous) 2012-01-23 11:33 pm (UTC)(link)
Thank you!

The tension's really ratcheting up

It's really all John's fault. I was trying to tell a nice story, but he was just 'la la la, can't hear you!' until I finally decided to start speaking mob: 'Nice husband you have here, it would be a shame if something terrible were to happen to it'.

But I think he gets it now.

Re: Bring Not All Mischief 12/?

(Anonymous) 2012-01-23 09:19 pm (UTC)(link)
Assembling the troops! This is great. *is excited*

Re: Bring Not All Mischief 12/?

(Anonymous) 2012-01-23 11:34 pm (UTC)(link)
Aw, thank you!

It is pretty fun to rally the troops for Harry, on occasion.

Re: Bring Not All Mischief 12/?

(Anonymous) 2012-01-24 02:09 am (UTC)(link)
And with that last line I'm grinning madly. Of course it's when the greek tragedy happens he finally gets it, of course.

Re: Bring Not All Mischief 12/?

(Anonymous) 2012-01-24 10:41 am (UTC)(link)
Of course!

And thank you kindly.

Re: Bring Not All Mischief 12/?

(Anonymous) 2012-01-26 03:37 pm (UTC)(link)
OMG, on pins and needles here. And of course John realizes his feelings at the most dramatic possible moment. Of course. *flails*

Re: Bring Not All Mischief 12/?

(Anonymous) 2012-01-27 01:38 am (UTC)(link)
of course John realizes his feelings at the most dramatic possible moment

Of course!

(And I hope to have you off the pins and needles very soon.)

Re: Bring Not All Mischief 12/?

(Anonymous) 2012-01-31 02:14 am (UTC)(link)
looks forward to John on hooks as he goes and gets his Wizard back.

And 'do over loving'.

Re: Bring Not All Mischief 12/?

(Anonymous) 2012-02-02 08:37 pm (UTC)(link)
The next part should be up in a couple of days -- I feel terrible, I've left people hanging much longer than I meant to, but the story is taking a while to get right.

'do over loving'

Hah! I like that phrase.