DevilC's den

I was a 40something Yulegoat

devilc — Thu, 01 Jan 2015 02:00:44 GMT

I'm culprit behind:
What a Lovely Way to Burn (5653 words) by Devilc
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Strike Back
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Damien Scott/Michael Stonebridge
Characters: Damien Scott, Michael Stonebridge
Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Hand Jobs
Summary:

There was going to be one hell of a debrief when they got out of here. Locke had sent them back into South America knowing it was going to be a goat rodeo, but nobody had expected this level of colossal cluster fuck.

And

Just My Type (1485 words) by Devilc
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: The Losers (2010), Captain America (Movies)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Carlos "Cougar" Alvarez/Jake Jensen, Jake Jensen & James "Bucky" Barnes
Characters: Jake Jensen, James "Bucky" Barnes
Additional Tags: Crossover, Fluff and Humor
Summary:

The guy's name is Jake Jensen and he's a motormouth ringer for Steve from another dimension. Hopefully the same one where Loki sent Steve.

2014 Yuletide Recs Post

devilc — Wed, 31 Dec 2014 11:22:31 GMT

Loyaute, confiance (1606 words) by Anonymous
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: As Meat Loves Salt - Maria McCann
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Jacob Cullen/Christopher Ferris
Characters: Jacob Cullen, Christopher Ferris
Additional Tags: Shaving, 17th Century, Religious Guilt, Secret love, religious angst, Angst
Summary:

Missing scene, at Aunt's house in London, early 1646.

Who Needs (1686 words) by Anonymous
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Batman Beyond
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Bruce Wayne, Terry McGinnis
Summary:

'Is it leprechauns?' he asks Bruce out of the blue one cold December morning as they sit together, huddled over the console in the Cave and eating some nutritious slop of a supper.

Said to the South Wind (2911 words) by Anonymous
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: The Black Stallion Series - Walter Farley
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: The Black | Shêtân, Alec Ramsay
Additional Tags: Horses, Nostalgia, Desert, POV Animal
Summary:

Ropes and ships may have stolen him from the desert, but the Black is no prisoner.

Same Planet, Different Worlds (97 words) by Anonymous
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Friday Night Lights
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Landry Clarke, Tim Riggins
Additional Tags: Yuletide Madness Drabble Invitational

Misery You Deserve (1642 words) by Anonymous
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Generation Kill
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Brad Colbert/Nate Fick
Characters: Nate Fick, Brad Colbert, Timothy Bryan
Additional Tags: Canon Era, Illnesses, Caretaking
Summary:

"You've got the shits, sir," he concluded.

"You don't say."

Life after death (1537 words) by Anonymous
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Homeland
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Carrie Mathison & Peter Quinn, Carrie Mathison/Peter Quinn
Characters: Carrie Mathison, Peter Quinn
Additional Tags: unrequited/unexpressed feelings, Angst
Summary:

Quinn decides to go back to work for Dar Adal. Carrie decides to change his mind.

(Written before the season 4 finale.)

Sink Back Into the Ocean (1022 words) by Anonymous
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Savages (2012), Savages Series - Don Winslow, Savages - All Media Types
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Ben Leonard/Chon McAlister/Ophelia "O" Sage, Ben Leonard/Ophelia "O" Sage, Chon McAlister/Ophelia "O" Sage
Characters: Ben Leonard, Chon McAlister, Ophelia "O" Sage
Summary:

In the aftermath; sweet dreams are... made of this

Ganga undir Jarðarmen (3832 words) by Anonymous
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Vikings (TV)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Athelstan/Ragnar Lothbrok
Characters: Athelstan (Vikings), Ragnar Lothbrok, Floki (Vikings), Lagertha (Vikings), Bjorn (Vikings), Torstein (Vikings)
Additional Tags: Families of Choice
Summary:

Will you walk with me, Athelstan?

On the First Day of X Mas, the Yulegoat gave to me ....

devilc — Thu, 25 Dec 2014 16:49:02 GMT

TWO stories. It's been awhile since that happened.

My primary story is:
Never Be A Prophet In My Own Land (1649 words) by Anonymous
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Strike Back, Banshee (TV)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Characters: Michael Stonebridge, Damien Scott, Sugar Bates, Lucas Hood
Summary:

Two soldiers, a semi-spontaneous road trip, and some trouble in a certain bar in Pennsylvania.

Stonebridge and Scott dip their toes into Banshee in a way that's completely perfect for both series.

My surprise! story is:

Familiar (2423 words) by Anonymous
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Daredevil (Comics)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Matt Murdock/Danny Rand
Characters: Matt Murdock, Danny Rand
Additional Tags: fudged timeline, Identity Porn
Summary:

There was no Danny, no Matt, no Daredevil, no Iron Fist, just two men who needed someone to understand what they’d been through and needed contact desperately enough to fight each other to get it.

Glorious, glorious Identity Porn wherein Danny has fun with the fact that he is both Daredevil and Iron Fist, but Matt can never be Iron Fist, and Matt has fun with the fact that his Daredevil can "see" in the dark, but Danny's cannot.

Fic: The Time Is Now, Then Did You Notice -- Magic Mike

devilc — Fri, 05 Dec 2014 22:15:41 GMT

Fandom: Magic Mike
Pairing: Mike/Adam
Rating: Mature
Notes: This is a revised and slightly expanded version of the story first published in the 2014 Con*Strict 'zine, written because gorramit! why isn't there more Mike/Adam stuff?! Title & cut tag is from the song "Victim" by Win-Win.

Disclaimer: Magic Mike is copyright its respective owners. This is a for-love-not-lucre work of what-if.

Adam came tumbling back into Mike's life about six months after Dallas took him and the rest of the crew to Miami. Early one Saturday afternoon Mike heard a knock at the door, and when he opened it, there stood Adam in a ratty hoodie and dirty jeans, with a large duffel bag slung across his shoulder. He looked disheveled, tired, and strung out. But most of all, his eyes grabbed Mike's attention. Gone was the wet-behind-the-ears kid he met on that construction job. Adam's eyes had a 20-going-on-54 look to them, and Mike felt a stab of guilt about that even before he heard Brooke's voice in the back of his mind telling him that Adam was going to do what Adam was going to do. Period.

(She was right, of course, even when she was just a voice in Mike's head. Like always.)

Adam smiled at him in that slightly hesitant way of his and … Mike couldn't resist, "Brooke shut the door in your ungrateful ass's face?"

Adam flashed a brief but real grin at the goofiness of Mike's words before ducking his head and shaking it. "No,man."

Mike snorted. "What? You came here first?"

Adam's eyes locked with his. "Yeah."

Okay, it's bizarro day in bizarro world. Mike decided to take a different approach. He stepped back from the door and gestured, inviting Adam in. "How's Miami treating you?"

"Miami's over," Adam stated, voice hard and flat. Mike winced at the amount of hurt he saw accompanying those words in Adam's eyes.

"Okay, I'm going to grab us some beers." He could see that Adam needed to talk about something, and since Adam didn't really talk? Yeah, best to keep it as casual as possible.

He came back from the kitchen with two Coronas to find Adam had slung his bag across the new coffee table – the one he built after those goons trashed the place – and was fishing around in it, searching for something. Adam pulled out a plastic grocery bag and handed over to him. "'S your money, man," he said without preamble. "The ten grand that you put up for me. We're square."

As glad as he was to have the money back, several things, none of them good, tumbled into Mike's brain as he closed his hand around the bag and hefted it. "What did you –"

Equal amounts of resignation and relief mixed in Adam's voice. "Dallas bought me out."

Mike's legs almost buckled at that and he sat down hard enough to make the chair (not one of his best creations) creak in protest. "What –"

"I made him buy me out," Adam cut in. "Fucker probably cheated me, but I don't care. I'm just glad to be gone." He took a gulp of his beer and asked, "So, man, how are you?"

Up to my eyeballs in shit. "I wish I could say I'm killing it with my furniture, but …" he sighed and shrugged "At least I'm keeping a roof over my head." And this money came just in time, too.

Adam scratched idly at what Mike figured was a three day growth of beard on his chin. "So, think it would go better if you had an extra hand to help out?"

"I think you should go talk to your sister," Mike replied.

Adam took a tight sip of his beer. "Yeah, I should get that ass-reaming taken care of sooner rather than later." He sniffed and wiped at his nose.

"You can stay here a little while if you need to."

Adam gave him that megawatt smile of his, the one that got the girl, every time. "Thanks, man."

~oo(0)oo~

Brooke, of course, wasn't happy about any of it: the fact that Adam was back; the fact that he had no job (again); the fact that he was staying at Mike's place and not at hers.

"I told her that you have a spare bed and she doesn't."

Mike sighed. It hadn't worked out between him and Brooke, which just made this whole thing even more awkward. Oh, he and Brooke were still friends and even had a standing "date" for breakfast every Friday, but as hard-headed and practical as she was, Mike felt that a part of Brooke had never forgiven him over what had happened with Adam, even though she knew – or repeatedly said she knew – that Adam was a grown man and could make his own mistakes.

On the other hand, Mike loved Brooke because she had a low threshold for bullshit, and he had to admit that she was right when she had told him it was time for him to grow up.

But even beyond the Adam thing … Brooke didn't know how to dance and had no interest in trying to learn, didn't want to go to clubs, and she saw no appeal in a lot of things that Mike loved to do. At the end of the day, he was too much of a free spirit and she too down to earth for them to last as a couple.

But as friends? They were aces. Hell, Brooke even broke up with a guy who didn't understand the sanctity of the Friday breakfast.

Mike complimented Brooke, but he didn't complete her.

~oo(0)oo~

"I kinda still want to dance," Adam said as he shoveled Frosted Flakes (the only vice Mike could afford at the moment) into his face. His hair, still mussed from sleep, stood up like a dandelion. "Like on the weekends for parties and stuff." He put another giant spoonful in his mouth, milk dripping off, running down his chin. He swiped at it and continued, "You should be my wingman."

Mike felt his jaw drop open as he looked at Adam, because –

"I mean, my manager." Adam picked up the bowl and leaned back slightly as he gulped down the sugary milk, the muscles in his throat somehow looking obscene and graceful, and why the hell was Mike even noticing or thinking about the way Adam drank milk out of a bowl?

Adam set the bowl back down, belched softly, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and looked at Mike expectantly, eyes bright and eager.

Twenty and going on ten, Mike thought.

"I'll – I just need somebody to have my back is all." Adam shrugged.

Mike snorted, because, total understatement. Quietly he asked, "What happened in Miami?"

A stricken look flashed across Adam's face before his mouth tightened and he screwed his eyes shut for an awkwardly long time. "Not enough to make me want to completely quit the life," he replied when he opened them again.

~oo(0)oo~

As he inventoried his van and prepared to head out for the day, as much as Mike hated to admit it, Adam had a point about keeping the stripping going. On a good weekend Adam could clear what Mike made in a week these days. Correction – if it was a good week and he hustled.

Mike just didn't know if he wanted to sit in the Mike's Mobile Detailing van (he sold the truck about three months ago to make ends meet) for a couple of hours every Friday and Saturday night. He was single again and Friday and Saturday were … okay, so it wasn't like he was getting it the way he did back in his Magic Mike days, but still ….

"So … what's detailing?" Adam asked, scratching idly at his stubble.

"You're starting to look like a dirty hippie, and what do you mean, 'what's detailing?'"

Adam looked at him, slightly hurt. "I'll shave. And I mean it. What's detailing?"

"Oooookay …" Mike drew the word out. "Well, it's sure as fuck not stripping, that's for certain."

~oo(0)oo~

"Y'know, if it wasn't for the fact that I saw Dallas teach you to dance, I'd think you're hopeless." Mike gestured at the contents of the van as he tucked a bottle of Armor All back in its place, resisting the urge to hurtle it. It had been a very long and frustrating day of hustling for work, and although day's take was good, the sheer aggravation of the past six hours robbed that fact of any joy or satisfaction.

Adam just shrugged and wiped his nose in that way of his – like a cokehead, only without the coke.

"No, I take it back." Mike slid the door shut with a resounding (and satisfying) wham. Frustration had built in him all day and he didn't want to hold back any longer. "It's not that you're hopeless, it's that you don't pay attention or give a shit about anything except whether or not you want to hit on a customer!"

Adam froze. "I upped our tip." He said, low and quiet, not meeting Mike's eyes.

"Our tip?!" Mike loaded the words with sarcasm. "See, I remember me doing, like, 90% of the work."

Adam didn't reply, just climbed into the passenger seat and stewed so visibly that Mike all but felt the waves rolling off of him.

"What?" Mike barked as he climbed in the driver's chair and slammed the door. "Spit it out," he snapped as he turned the key in the ignition.

Instead of blowing up, like Mike anticipated, Adam deflated, went silent, turned his head and gazed out the window as the world passed them by.

"It doesn't make me feel alive." Adam finally spoke as they turned down the street to Mike's apartment, his voice barely audible over the noise of the van's engine.

Mike glared at him. "Doesn't make you feel alive?" What is this bullshit?!

"Dancing makes me feel alive," Adam said in a firmer voice, his gaze still out the window. He glanced over at Mike. "I like it. I'm good at it." He took his hat off and ran a hand through his rumpled hair. "This just …." his voice trailed off. He swallowed hard before he continued, one step up from a mumble, "This just makes me feel dead inside."

"Oh boo-fucking-hoo!" Mike shouted as he smacked the steering wheel. "Do you think I love detailing cars? Welcome to planet Earth!

"Dancing makes you feel good? Well, it makes me feel dead inside. This –" he gestured with his free hand, "at least this is real. And, it gives me the time I need to work on my designs. So yeah, Adam, I've got two jobs here: the one I love, and the one that actually pays the damn bills!"

"You don't have to get angry about it," Adam huffed as Mike pulled the van into the drive.

"I am not angry about it!"

Adam looked at him for several heartbeats before he smiled and said, "Then why are you shouting?"

"Because …." Well, Adam had a point.

Just before Mike opened the front door – and fuck he needed a cold beer after a long, hot day like today – Adam said, "I flirted because I knew I could up our tips if I did. I mean, at the end of the day, it's about the money in the jar, right?"

Mike looked at him for a long moment.

"I want to pull my own weight," Adam said, "and upping the tip helps."

"Right. We'll go 70-30 on the tips, considering that I'm still doing most of the detailing," Mike said as they stepped through the door.

"Okay," Adam said as he went to the fridge. He pulled out a beer, popped the top, and handed it to Mike before getting his own. "But," he shut the door and lounged against it in a way that was so casually artful that Mike knew it had been practiced and perfected under Dallas's watchful eye, "If I'm going to pull my weight, I need to dance. We both know that I –" he indicated his body "can make steady money at that."

Mike nodded.

"So, I'll help out as much as I can with the detailing, if you'll have my back when I dance."

~oo(0)oo~

"I still can't believe I'm doing this," Mike groaned under his breath as he sat before the computer and placed an ad on Craigslist. Adam grinned down at him, his eyes saying, 'and yet you are', but at least he had the good sense not to speak the words.

~oo(0)oo~

He brought a sketchpad and a flashlight to Adam's first gig – a divorce party – and roughed out a few ideas.

Not that a van on the street outside of some lady's house made for an optimal environment, but Mike had learned that when a good idea hit, you had to run with it. And, if nothing else, working in the van meant he had none of his usual distractions.

~oo(0)oo~

A little before 1am, Adam climbed into the van, lipstick on his neck. He looked tired but satisfied.

Mike raised an eyebrow. "I see they got a little frisky there."

Adam nodded and blushed so hard that even in the dim light of the street lamp Mike could see it.

"Wellllll?" Mike drew the word out. "Was she hot? Were her friends hot?"

Adam grinned lopsidedly. "Yeah … she was okay looking. Her friends, too"

Mike chuckled. "Did you get any digits?"

"No." Adam said a little sharply. "This is business." He shook his head. "This is … it's not like before. I'm –" He ducked his head, breaking Mike's gaze, "I'm not …" he motioned back and forth with his hand, "not right now."

Mike leaned in and teased, "Not looking to get laid?"

Adam's eyes darted away. "Not with them, I'm not." A moment later he said, "Can we go home now? I want a shower."

Not exactly what Mike expected on a Saturday. After a night at Dallas's they used to go out and unwind until the break of dawn. Then again, Adam had to do all the dancing at an event like this, unlike Dallas's where dancers got a break between sets. He started the van.

"Sorry to be such a party pooper," Adam said, cracking a yawn.

Mike was fine going home early – going to a club would strain his budget – but, all the dancing or not, he was a little surprised that Adam didn't at least want to grab a beer and shoot a little pool some place.

He got his answer when Adam fell asleep half way home. Mike couldn't suppress a grin looking at him, flopped over in the seat. He looked even younger while asleep, and, right now, sleeping the way he was, he made Mike think of a giant toddler. One with a face an angel would kill for.

~oo(0)oo~

Adam got up before him the next morning. He must have really been out of it, if he hadn't heard Adam come down the stairs from the loft and get the coffee maker going. Mike scrubbed blearily at his eyes until they finally focused and registered Adam, clad in a ratty old shirt and sweats, sitting at the kitchen table, looking at something.

Looking at Mike's sketch pad from last night.

He groaned under his breath and stumbled sleep-stiff out of the bed and into the bathroom and willed the morning wood to go down so he could take a pee.

Filling the cup that Adam had left out for him, Mike dropped down into a chair, and before he could say a word, Adam slid a small stack of bills over to him. "I believe the house rule is a 70-30 split," he said.

Mike blinked at that. He would have gone as low as 20% on Adam's tips.

Adam flipped back to one of the designs Mike had sketched last night, a rough idea for a coffee table, and said, "Some of these are kind of neat." He touched the drawing. "Can I help you build this one?"

Mike felt the "no" on the tip of his tongue, but when he saw the eagerness and hope in Adam's expression, he asked, "Why?" Realizing that sounded harsher than he meant it to, he added, "I mean, why that particular one?"

Adam looked at him, puzzled. "I like it?" he said finally said, uncertain.

Hardly a ringing endorsement, when said that way. Of all the ideas Mike had roughed out the night before, this was the one he felt most ambivalent about. "What do you like about it?" He asked, careful to keep his tone light and casual.

Adam grinned like a five year old. "It's funky and chunky, just like some of the furniture I saw –" he stopped abruptly, shook his head, and with an eye roll, continued, "I don't mean this the bad way. It reminded me of some of the furniture I saw when I was at college."

Looking at Adam over the rim of his coffee mug, Mike asked, "Annnnd, why would any of my customers want the furniture from their crappy college dorms?"

"'Cause this is what it would look like if it wasn't crappy, if it was done right, and …" Adam's voice trailed off as he leaned back and idly scratched an itch on his stomach, his shirt riding up in the process to expose the blade of his hip, "I dunno, not all of college was bad." He stopped abruptly and slumped forward. "So … just forget I said anything."

Mike took a big swallow of coffee and said, "We'll start on it tomorrow afternoon."

Adam's brow furrowed in confusion. "But –"

"But nothing. Nostalgia sells – think of how much crap is coming back from the 1980s."

Adam's eyes sparkled with mischief. "I don't remember the 80's, gramps."

"Fuck you," Mike replied, but there wasn't any heat in it.

Adam laughed, pushed back from the table, and said, "I'm going to go on a run. Want to come with?"

Turnabout was fair play. "Nope. I don't need to keep my girlish figure."

Adam blew him a raspberry as he headed out the door.

~oo(0)oo~

Do you have any man skills?" Mike couldn't keep the laughter out of his voice.

Their attempts to construct the table Mike had sketched up the other night were not only going nowhere fast, but Adam's attempts to use power tools had resulted in a cock-up of epic proportions.

Normally, by this point, Mike would've been furious and frustrated at the waste of time and materials, but the fact that Adam's attempts to enlarge the hole Mike drilled in the center of the table ended up looking like a floppy dick not once, not twice, but three times?

Mike couldn't decide what was funnier: Adam's intense look of concentration each time he took over, or the fact that all three attempts had ended in Mike's neatly drilled circle becoming a giant dangle.

"Fuck you," Adam replied, voice tight. "You did meet me on a construction site."

Mike nodded at that. "Well then, I stand corrected. Do you have any man skills beyond hammering things or stacking tile?"

Adam sniffed and wiped his nose on the back of his arm. "Yeah, but I don't kiss and tell."

Laughter burbled out of Mike. "Okay. We'll work on teaching you power tools beyond the nail gun and the trowel. I'll think of something to make out of those." He gestured as his mind groped for a suitable word to describe the ruined table tops.

"Coffee table for my sister." Adam deadpanned.

Mike spun and clapped his hands to his mouth in an effort to hold the chuckles back. Sweet Jesus, the look on Brooke's face would be –

Behind him, he heard Adam make a strangled sound as he struggled to hold his own snickers back.

Mike made his fatal mistake when he looked over his shoulder at Adam. The dam burst and the both of them roared with laughter, made only better because they could see it in each other's eyes: they had pictured the exact same thing.

At some point, arms slung around each other, knees turned to jello, they collapsed on the workbench, sagging against each other, gasping and wheezing, gradually getting their breaths back.

And … it felt somehow right to have Adam that close, like an itch he didn't even realize he wanted scratched.

Mike glanced over at Adam, words on the tip of his tongue, "Want a glass of iced tea before we have another go at the router?" and there – blink and you'll miss it – Adam wanted to kiss him.

Oh, fuck, because Brooke will kill –

Mike never got to complete the thought. They both sprang up and away so fast that the bench flipped, sending tools and parts skittering across the floor as Mike flailed, backpedaled, and landed on his ass.

"Sorry, man, I –" Adam backed up, face white like a hotel sheet, and bolted out the door before Mike could get his feet under him or say a word. By the time he got to the door of the shed, he heard the squeal of Adam's tires as he tore down the street.

~oo(0)oo~

Fucker didn't answer his phone, either. Mike gave up after the fourth message and the ninth text. In desperation he called Brooke, and yeah, that was an awkward fucking conversation.

"Yeah, so Adam flew out of here about 10 minutes ago, and he's probably going to be kind of upset if he comes to you –"

"No, I can't tell you why."

"No, we didn't have a fight –"

"No, I haven't kicked him out."

"Yeah, I think he's okay – just upset."

"Listen, and this is the really important thing. Tell him I'm okay, and it's okay, and he's okay. And for God's sake, tell him to call or text me."

"Yeah, 'I'm okay, you're okay.'"

"Nope, that about covers it."

"Yeah, it is kind of cryptic, but I can't tell you more right now. And it's cool, it really is. Thanks."

"Of course we're on for breakfast tomorrow, Brooke."

~oo(0)oo~

About 30 seconds after Mike hung up, the adrenaline wore off and the pain of landing on his ass kicked in. He shinnied his jeans and jockeys down, and though he'd landed hard, it didn't look like he was going to bruise too badly. He gimped a little stiffly to the bathroom, fished the Tylenol out of the medicine cabinet, and when he shut it, he paused and looked at himself in the mirror for a moment.

Because yeah, he was cool with it. Mike knew that the instant he saw it in Adam's eyes. Adam wasn't the problem here, he was, because he needed some time to figure out why, after a lifetime of heterosexuality, his brain bent instantly around the idea of Adam + Kissing = Happy Fun Time. That's what baked Mike's noodle.

Guys came on to him on a regular basis. No big deal. He just wasn't interested in them. Everybody in the backroom at Dallas's knew that Ken swung both ways. There had been a lot of guy-guy horseplay, stuff with a definite undercurrent to it. Not only had Mike had been completely comfortable with it, but he'd also started it just as often as anybody else.

He had just never wanted to kiss a guy or get kissed by him. That was new. But still okay. Mike was South Florida born and bred; some people were gay or bi, just like the sun rose in the East and the beach had sand. So fucking what?

It was like … Mike fumbled for ideas, for words, for anything to explain it.

So. Yeah. Adam. Mike could go there.

Really go there.

~oo(0)oo~

Around midnight, Mike sent one last text and went to bed.

~oo(0)oo~

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway woke him before Adam stumbled through the door a few minutes after 4 am. One took at him told Mike everything: booze, coke, Miss Right Now, no sleep.

Mike wanted to explode on him, "Where were you?!" "Why didn't you answer my texts or calls?!" "Why didn't you answer Brooke?!" "I was worried about you!" The wary and haunted look in Adam's eyes stopped him. He could not afford to have Adam shut down, melt down, or worse, run away again.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and as calmly as he could, Mike said, "Are you okay?"

"I'm –" Adam started to say something, but paused in the doorway, rattled, clearly expecting something else. "W-what?" The word squeaked out.

Mike inched forward, careful to keep the look in his eyes as soft as possible. "Adam, are you okay?"

(You're so strung out, you look like 40 miles of bad road, and I can't deal all over again with you acting like you did right before you split to Miami. I just can't.)

Adam visibly collected himself, but then wiped his nose in that old nervous way of his. "Oh yeah, I'm fi –" His voice cracked. A moment later his facade – all that bravado – the forced coolness, collapsed. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. Mike could practically see the words stuck in Adam's throat before Adam finally shook his head no.

"I didn't think so. Have a seat." Mike sank down on the couch and patted the cushion next to him.

Sucking in shivering lungfuls of air in an effort to keep it together, Adam made it to the couch and sat down – almost collapsing, really – and when he got settled in, he kept staring at a spot on the floor between his feet.

"Adam, look at me." Mike spoke softly.

Headshake no.

Mike dropped his voice an octave. "Look. At. Me."

"I can't," Adam whispered, voice raw with desperation.

"Why not? I'm not going to bite."

In a tiny, broken, voice, "You know why."

Mike forced himself to take another calming breath. "No, actually, I don't. Did you get any of my messages to you?"

Adam nodded yes.

"So …" Mike shrugged, "that's not making sense to me." An icicle feeling began to worm its way into his heart. "I'm telling you again, it's okay." Mike smiled over the fear he felt, hoping that it would make its way into his voice, "It's actually better than okay with me …."

The moment the words registered, Adam's head snapped up and Mike had to admit that even like this – bloodshot red-rimmed eyes, hair every which way – dear god, he was striking.

A heartbeat later and the hope that Mike saw shining in those eyes began to dim. "I don't –" Adam swallowed hard. "What do I have to offer you? Why should you have to deal with some fucking college drop-out kid who can't get his shit together worth a damn?" He shook his head. "I'll just drag you down."

"Wait? What?" Mike shook his head to get his bearings. "Adam, do you think you're not good enough for me or something?"

"You're Magic Mike!" Adam burst out. "You've got all this stuff going on in your life – your designs, your detailing business, and you're a way better dancer than I'll ever be. Hell," Adam gestured broadly, "you gave me an easy-peasy job trying to teach me to help you do furniture and I even fucked that up."

"Yeah, but it wasn't boring," Mike interjected, trying to lighten the mood.

"You're Magic Mike," Adam continued. "Nothing fazes you. You just keep on going. You just get up every time you get knocked down. You don't run – " Adam sucked in a deep breath, "– you don't run away from anything. I bet you had no problems when you realized … when you figured out …." Adam's voice trailed off.

When I figured out …? OH. "No, it threw me for a loop, alright," Mike said, shaking his head emphatically. Granted, it took me 12 hours to figure out that casual sex doesn't do it for me – hasn't done it for me in a long time – it's more about if I like somebody and find them interesting, and that yeah, apparently that includes guys, too. Not something I expected, at all. I thought I had it all figured out 15 years ago, and I wasn't expecting anything to change. "Listen, so you're bi-sexual, like I am, apparently –"

"Nope." Bitterness dripped from Adam's voice.

"Really?" Mike said before he could stop himself.

Adam took a deep breath and the words almost tripped over themselves in the rush to leave his mouth. "I left college because I couldn't accept – and then I met you, and – but there were all these girls and I kept hoping that maybe, just maybe, that because I could do it with them it meant that I wasn't really gay, but –" His head shot up and his eyes drilled into Mike's, "I like guys more and I have been so fucking in love with you since that first night, and it has been killing me inside to try and not be."

In love with me. It rolled around in Mike's brain as he took one of Adam's hands in both of his. "Adam, I –" His mouth opened and closed and he realized he had no idea what he wanted to say next.

Adam darted in and kissed him – just the briefest most ghostly feathering of lip on lip – and it jolted Mike like grabbing a live wire.

"I can be a real asshole," Mike said, mind and mouth once again reunited.

Adam nodded, mouth curved in the tiniest of smiles, the hope in his eyes making the expression in them something beautiful and transcendent. "I know."

"And what kind of a kiss was that? C'mon, man, if you're going to kiss me –" Mike didn't get to complete the sentence because Adam knocked him back on the couch, and kissed him so hard and so exuberantly it all felt new again.

Because it was new: getting whisker burn; the angular, strong body pressed up against his; things being hard where Mike was used to soft.

And, speaking of hard? Things were perking up down there. Mike let out a relieved breath when they broke. Yes, he'd worked it all out correctly last night: emotional connection = physical attraction.

"God," Adam breathed, low and throaty. "I could kiss you for hours."

"Me too," Mike whispered.

"Can we …?" Adam left the words hanging.

"Bed?" Mike clarified.

"Yes."

Mike took Adam's hand and led the 10 steps to the bed. They shed their clothes as gracefully as two boys undressing in the locker room, and as Mike slid back the sheet, he said, "Y'know, you're going to have to lead the way here, because I have no idea what I'm doing."

Adam paused for a moment, frozen, before laughing, clearly trying on the idea of being the more experienced one, for once.

Mike waited for Adam to join him, but Adam just stood there, eyes raking over him, until he said, "Y'know that night we met and we ended up with those girls on the bridge, and you teased me about how pregnant I got that girl's mouth?"

"Yeah?"

"I want to do that to you." Adam said, crouching down, leaving no doubt what, exactly, he wanted to do to Mike. "Wanted it since I glanced over that table in the club and saw you looking at me and her ..." his voice trailed off, growing low and raspy.

Mike's mouth formed a perfect O of surprise. His cock positively throbbed at the idea, letting loose with a fresh jolt of precome. Adam licked his lips at the sight of it, and Mike heard himself groaning at the sight of that tongue dragging over those full, pouty lips.

A moment later Adam slid between the V of Mike's legs, his lips surrounding Mike, sucking and slurping as his tongue danced along the underside of the shaft. He cupped one hand around Mike's sack and reached up to curl the other around the blade of Mike's hip. Mike groaned as his pelvis spasmed and bucked of its own accord, his hands rising to tangle in Adam's locks, but mindful not to grip too tightly. He didn't last as long as he would've liked – the exhausting stress of the day combined with Adam's relentless assault caused him to seize and shoot after only a few minutes. He tried to warn Adam, tugging on his hair, but Adam went down that last little bit, swallowing when Mike released his payload. He looked so fucking hot doing it, that Mike felt almost woozy and flopped back on to the mattress, gasping for air, as his cock gave the last jolt into Adam's mouth.

And then Adam was above, scooting him over on the mattress, climbing on top.

"What do I –?" Mike's tongue struggled to form the words as he tried to sit up.

Adam shushed him with a finger to the lips. "It's okay, Mike, lay down, you'll see." He pressed his gloriously hot and strong body the length of Mike's, his cock hard and full against Mike's pelvis. He began kissing Mike as he gave a few short rocking thrusts with his hips. "I think –" push, kiss, wet break for air, "that I can go –" rocking thrust, hitching breath, "for some bump –" a short sharp jab, "and grind –" a long full stroke.

Mike smiled up at him. "Sounds good to me."

Adam didn't need to be told twice, and Mike found himself somewhere in between giving as good as he got, and just hanging on for the ride, because Jesus fuck, Adam was strong, and eager, and hungry, and if Mike was 10 years younger, or if it wasn't oh-dark-thirty out, this would have kicked off round two for him.

It didn't take long before – all sweat and friction – Adam shot his load between them, hot and salt-musky, before collapsing on top of him, trembling slightly, panting, breath coming in hot damp bursts against Mike's neck.

"So, when are we going to tell Brooke about this?" Adam asked into Mike's collarbone when he got his breath back, yawning hugely as soon as the words left his mouth.

Mike looked over at the alarm. It was almost 5 am. "At nine when we have breakfast with her. Alarm goes off at eight-thirty."

"What?" Adam asked, rolling off of Mike, swiping at his come with a corner of the sheet.

"Remember, I have breakfast with Brooke every Friday morning, and believe you me, we don't want to stand her up."

Adam lifted his head and smiled blearily over at Mike. "You're right, we don't." To Mike's relief, the hollow, haunted look had left his eyes, and the Adam he remembered from their first days together was back.

Mike kissed him on the forehead and shut his eyes as he settled onto the pillow. Brooke was going to be pissed at first, but this was what Adam wanted – had been wanting for a long time – and ultimately, like any good sister, that's what Brooke cared about, Adam's happiness.

Just before sleep pulled him under, Mike felt Adam snuggle against him, breath slow and even, and he thought he could get used to this, because it was the rightest thing in the world.

Fic: Making Time on the Whale Road

devilc — Sun, 30 Nov 2014 02:44:41 GMT

Title: Making Time On the Whale Road
Fandom: Vikings
Pairing: Ragnar/Athelstan
Rating: Mature
Notes: Assumes you've seen all of S2
This began as a teensy comment fic I left on Movies_Michelle's DW some months back. I fleshed it out during Mini-Nano-Wrimo.
Disclaimer: The Eddas are public domain. Vikings is copyright its respective owners. I created this as a labor of love, not lucre.

The passage back to Kattegat goes without incident, fair winds and following seas, not the endless stormy, rainlashed misery of Athelstan's first transit, where several of his brother monks had starved to death from cold and exposure. But for all that the weather has been clear, there's no such thing as truly dry or comfortable in an open boat on the North Sea. There's always spray coming over the sides, and every day comes with at least one large, drenching wave crashing over the bow. At best, you're damp and not in active discomfort.

The days pass in breeze and spray, salt-damp wool, itching and chafing, small beer, meals of fish and porridge from the single pot nestled in coals of the small brazier. They pass in riddles, and tall tales, and songs, and chapping each other's hides. They pass in talk of farms, and children, and wives, and sweethearts, and plans for what they'll do when they get ashore, plans for projects during the long dark nights of winter.

Aethelstan doesn't really have any plans beyond ending up in Ragnar's hall. Once he had his entire life mapped out. Now? His life has twisted and reversed its course like a hare with a dog hard on its tail so many times that he sees no point in planning beyond the next turn of the moon. He only knows he'll probably survive what fate throws at him next. It's what he does.

It's not that Ragnar won't let Athelstan out of his sight -- there's no place out of sight on a longship -- it's that he won't let him out of arm's length. Ragnar can't seem to stop touching him, as if he can't believe that Athelstan is really here. That Athelstan chose life with Ragnar and his people over a position in the court of King Ecbert -- one where he had his beloved books and the means to make them. As well as somebody to talk to about the ideas in them.

At night on the boat, they sleep as they can, huddled together out of need and necessity. Nobody sleeps so much as they lie down and exhaustion overtakes them. They lie like that until some discomfort becomes enough of an ache that a man rises up out of sleep like a whale breaking the surface of the sea and taking a quick breath, before twisting and slipping back under.

Three nights out now, and Athelstan knows that Ragnar wants so much more than his scarred, inkstained, and now salt-chapped hand, just as he wants more than a sword-calloused hand back from Ragnar. But it's all they get to have right now as the moon rises and they choke back on their gasps and groans, muffling them, blending them into the slap of water on wood, the creaking of the mast, the snoring and sighs of their companions. And when they're done -- what's one more stain or damp patch on their hose or tunic?

Bjorn has the helm and keeps watch. Athelstan catches his eye for just a moment as Ragnar sighs contentedly as he slips down into sleep, and if Bjorn knows or even suspects what has just happened, it's probably not the first time he's seen such a thing from shieldmates together on the seas, and he knows better than to say anything.

Related to yesterday's Daredevil/Iron Fist post ...

devilc — Thu, 31 Jul 2014 01:32:38 GMT

So, I've been daydreaming.

In my head this morning I hammered out MCU Danny/Matt as seen through the eyes of Sam Wilson, because, though his hand to hand skills are okay, he and Natasha agree that he needs to stay sharp and it would be good if he leveled up under somebody who didn't have direct ties to SHIELD and who had a different fighting/training style. It can be a weakness to have a "house" martial arts style. Also, it's not really practical for Sam to spar with Steve and Bucky as he's trying to master the skills needed to not get killed by guys like that and/or maybe put them down.

So, of course Natasha knows a guy. Clint laughs and rolls his eyes when he hears the name ... Danny and his associates helped Clint deal with some "tracksuits" who were giving him grief over at his apartment complex a few months back. They're very good at taking out the trash and making sure that it doesn't come back.

Sam immediately likes the Dojo at the edge of Hell's Kitchen. A little worn around the edges, and nothing in it is trendy or for show.

Danny (blonde guy with greenish eyes) and his lawyer, Matt (who has bright red hair and wears these weird red wrap around sunglasses, almost like goggles inside) both have stubble burn when he and Nat come in, and though Matt quickly has Danny sign some papers and flirts a bit with Nat (and boy is he a smooth operator), Sam knows a nooner when he sees one.

[And somewhere along the way there's the line about well, it's nice to see a guy screw his lawyer for once, and Danny fidgets and blushes and says, um, well, if you want to get technical ....]

Sam and Danny click and Sam likes Danny's mix of practical instruction and his mysticism, which is also practical in its own way. He incorporates some of the meditation techniques into what he's doing with Bruce and Bucky.

Sam finds out that Danny (whose last name is Rand) is associated with 3 businesses and 2 charities. The Dojo (which he runs), that he's actually the owner Rand-Meachum Inc, but Matt (whose last name is Murdock) actually runs that business day to day, and that Danny's also an "associate" of Heroes for Hire, a security firm that does PI work, threat analysis, and personal protection. (They've also been known to handle the odd protection racket.)

Heroes for Hire is Danny's BFF, Luke Cage, Jessica Jones, Misty Knight (Danny's ex) and Colleen Wing. (And, if not for the fact that he, Steve, and Bucky have a "gentlemans' agreement" Sam sighs and realizes that hot-damn he'd be asking Misty out on a date, because, hot-damn! all that and her hair too.)

The Dojo and HFH help support a soup kitchen and food bank. The only reason Matt agreed to take on Rand-Meachum is because it's a large funder of a local legal aid society, and Matt and his BFF Foggy Nelson still do a certain amount of pro-bono work.

Over bits and pieces, Sam figures out that Matt-Danny-HFH do a lot of street-level "work" and he thinks a few of them might have some low-level powers, but nothing like super-strength, super-speed, super-healing. He even wonders if Matt is psychic or something. There was also a scandal a few years back about Matt -- somebody tried to prove he was dispensing vigilante justice down in Hell's Kitchen as Daredevil, but that got thrown out when he was very publicly at several galas and events hosted by Rand-Meachum when Daredevil struck.

Nat knows them through Matt -- they had a moment once -- and she's used them as a bit of eyes and ears to keep tabs on HYDRA and AIM in NYC. Their tips about unusual activities or people of interest helped these attempts to set up operations get shut down quickly.

And, somewhere in there it comes out that Stark Industries tried to buy out Rand-Meachum. Tony did a testing the waters overture -- Rand-Meachum had some tech he was interested in -- and the response was Matt flirting very aggressively with Pepper (in front of Tony) and offering her a job at R-M during a meeting to discuss the issue. Danny just grinned like a loon through the whole thing and did origami and paperclip art. In the end, it lead to a joint project under a very sharply negotiated contract, and it's been profitable, and R-M's absolutely held up their end of the deal, and every year Tony has to put on a monkey suit for a joint charity gala and pretend like he likes Matt (who still flirts with Pepper just to piss Tony off) and Danny (who takes the maraschino cherries out of his shirley temple and ties the stems into knots with his tongue). And if it wasn't for the fact that it's at a charity ball and that R-M has really delivered on their chips and systems, Tony would've punched Matt long ago.

Nat replies that that's a good thing, because Matt Murdock has a temper second only to Bruce's.

And Tony's like, "What's he going to do? He's a gym bunny in a suit."

And Nat's like, "No, he's not a gym bunny, and you really, really don't want to know what he'd do to you."

(Later on, Nat whispers to Sam that she once saw Matt make a guy pick up his teeth with broken fingers. Being with Danny has really mellowed him out.)

And also in there Sam observes that yeah, though Matt's a real flirt, it's obvious that he and Danny only have eyes for each other, and the only other people he's ever seen with body language like that around each other, so clearly in tune, is Steve & Bucky

And that year at the annual R-M/Stark charity gala, Matt flirts with Pepper (who's totally in cahoots with him) and Maria Hill, while Danny teaches Steve how to tie a maraschino cherry stem into a knot with his tongue, and Sam and Bucky look at each other over the rims of their glasses and hell yes, they're both counting the minutes until they can drag Steve back to their apartment and have him put his new found tongue twisting skills to a much better use.

My teeny fandom of about 4 people: Daredevil/Iron Fist

devilc — Tue, 29 Jul 2014 22:44:16 GMT

It's one of those days where I can't seem to concentrate on things, because my renewed love for this pairing is just eating my brain. So I'm'a share it with you in an effort to get on to what I need to finish, and possibly bring a few more true believers into the fold.

So, the story of Danny's true love for Matt begins during Ed Brubaker's run on Daredevil. (Steve/Bucky isn't the only gift he's given to slashers.)

Matt Murdock is in jail on Ryker's Island, very publicly accused of being Daredevil, and somebody's gotta cover for him, and that somebody ends up being Danny Rand (aka. Iron Fist) because he's one of the few people with the martial arts and acrobatic skills to pull that one off.

(As an aside, while Matt's at Ryker's, Frank Castle --The Punisher-- arranges to have himself arrested and sent there so that he can help protect Matt from the other inmates, several of which Matt has put there. [Yet another of Ed Brubaker's many gifts to slashers.])

When Matt gets out of Ryker's -- because hey, how can he be Daredevil, if Daredevil's been seen around town beating up bad guys -- he confronts the other Daredevil on the rooftops, discovers they're very evenly matched, and it's only when Danny busts out the Iron Fist stuff does he realize who's been posing as him.
(For reasons I won't bore you with, Matt never got the message about who was covering for him, and why it is they're both pretty paranoid at this point.)

They begin a renewed association which brings Danny out of retirement, and some of Matt's observations about Danny are downright endearing, like comments about things such as the scent of his laundry detergent, or, my favorite, the fact that he can smell that Danny had buckwheat soba for lunch and it's given him heartburn.

And, while Danny is brave, wise, kind, a true and loyal friend, and a kickass martial artist, in some ways, he's charmingly naive or a little behind the 8ball -- like the fact that he didn't know that Matt was actually blind; he just thought it was an act as part of Matt's cover.

When the events of Civil War break out Matt's cleaning up the mess of who "outed" him and tried to frame him and that trail takes him to europe, so he asks Danny if he can cover for him again.

And then there's This ...

Okay, wow. The identity porn in all of that on top of the latent eroticism in several of those panels.

Danny-devil spends all of Civil War posing as Daredevil and he's captured and sent to the Negative Zone. (And he's got a great line in which he calls Tony Stark "Judas" and offers him a silver dollar so that he can now have 31 pieces of silver.)

Think about all of that: Danny gave up his identity as Iron Fist to take on Matt's "brand". Danny basically went to the Guantanamo bay of the Marvel Universe to keep Matt's secret.

You don't do that just because. You just don't. That's something written into the bones or carved into the heart.

-----

So, why Danny/Matt and not, say Danny/Luke Cage or Danny/Misty Knight, both of whom Danny has long running relationships with, and Misty's his ex.

1) I really really buy Luke/Jessica. Their story is one of my all time favorite comics romances.

2) I don't know why but Misty/Danny has never clicked for me. (I mean, I like the idea of their relationship and hats off to Marvel for having a canonical inter-racial relationship for over 30 years.)

What I like about Danny/Matt is the way they both contrast and compliment each other, and this makes for so many possibilities. On top of the whole same height and build thing ....

1) They're both master martial artists.
2) They're both very acrobatic. (Oh yes, they're both bendy.)
3) They were both raised in religious traditions steeped in meditation and mysticism.
4) Matt is the "man without fear" and Danny's becoming Iron Fist was, above all, a test of courage.
5) Matt's very hard-edged, Danny's less ... brittle and a little more light hearted. (He didn't have a hard childhood in Hell's Kitchen. Not that his childhood was easy, but it had a stability, continuity, and order that Matt's did not.)
6) Identity Porn. Danny can be Daredevil, but Matt can never be Iron Fist.
7) Matt has super-heightened hearing, touch, taste, smell. And Danny can focus his Chi to mind meld. (He can also heal with his Chi and of course the Iron Fist thing.) That has a lot of interesting possibilities.

There's a small collection of Matt/Danny at AO3. (3 are by me.)

The 14 works I didn't create are all good, but my favorites are:

Healing Energy (662 words) by lilacsigil
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Daredevil (Comics), Heroes For Hire (Comics), Power Man and Iron Fist (comics)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Matt Murdock/Danny Rand
Characters: Luke Cage, Danny Rand, Matt Murdock, Misty Knight, Colleen Wing
Summary:

Matt and Danny help Luke, then help each other.

Pouring Tea Blindfolded (1927 words) by Tartanshell
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (2003), Iron Fist (Comic)
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Author Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Matt Murdock/Danny Rand
Characters: Matt Murdock, Danny Rand
Summary:

Matt Murdock just wants to escape.

Sleeping with the Devil (12274 words) by shinysylver
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Marvel, Marvel 616, Marvel (Comics), Daredevil (Comics), Immortal Iron Fist, Iron Fist (Comic), New Avengers (Comics)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Matt Murdock/Danny Rand
Characters: Matt Murdock, Danny Rand, Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, Luke Cage, Dakota North, Jessica Jones, Leland Owlsley
Additional Tags: Getting Together, Friends to Lovers, Action, Crime Fighting
Summary:

When Mutant Growth Hormone starts showing up on the streets, Daredevil and Iron Fist team up to stop it at the source. Danny's thrilled to be out in costume with a partner again now that Luke is focusing on being a good family man… even if Matt isn't the best at playing well with others. Of course, Danny didn't expect to hook up with Matt, but then again he has a history of ill-conceived hook-ups.

(This story has lovely art!)

In which there is glitter (3492 words) by dytabytes
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Marvel, Marvel 616, Daredevil (Comics), Iron Fist (comics)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Matt Murdock/Danny Rand
Characters: Matt Murdock, Danny Rand
Additional Tags: Glitter
Summary:

Danny gets covered in glitter. Things get progressively more complicated from there.

Practical Application of Learned Skills (1950 words) by Iambic
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Daredevil (Comics)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Matt Murdock/Danny Rand
Characters: Matt Murdock (Daredevil), Danny Rand (Iron Fist), Linda Carter (Night Nurse), Stephen Strange (Doctor Strange)
Additional Tags: Action/Adventure, Character Study
Summary:

Danny thinks it'll be a good idea to learn how to fight like Matt does.

Fic: Blade Trinity, Drake/Hannibal King

devilc — Sun, 09 Feb 2014 21:02:47 GMT

And Wild for to Hold (1767 words) by Devilc
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Blade Trinity
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Drake/Hannibal King
Characters: Drake (Blade), Hannibal King
Additional Tags: Porn Battle, Hand Jobs, Light Dom/sub, Vampires
Summary:

"Like Blade, you know honor --" Drake's eyes flick to the bloodstained gauze covering the wound he inflicted on Hannibal in Dr. Vance's office, "and how to live by the sword."

I was the Yulegoat behind ...

devilc — Wed, 01 Jan 2014 19:13:32 GMT

...For Saying Things That You Can't Say Tomorrow Day (6307 words) by Devilc
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Strike Back
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Author Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Damien Scott/Michael Stonebridge
Characters: Damien Scott, Michael Stonebridge
Additional Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Military, Blow Jobs
Summary:

Damien didn't call or ask, just showered off the last bits of Africa, threw the essentials into a duffel, and showed up on Michael's doorstep. He barged in as soon as the door opened. "Can't let you be alone in here, Mikey."

and

“All shall be well, and all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well.” (707 words) by Devilc
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Spartacus Series (TV)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Author Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Spartacus/Sura
Characters: Spartacus, Sura (Spartacus), Mira (Spartacus)
Additional Tags: Happy Ending, Afterlife
Summary:

They gather around him, his last remaining friends and those who remained of the thousands from the camp, a handful whose freedom has been won at last. It will not have been for nothing. He so wanted to see them over Alps, but the knowledge they have Agron and Nasir to guide them contents him.

Because my F'List reads everything

devilc — Thu, 21 Nov 2013 17:11:13 GMT

I'm looking for some good Arrow stories

Preferably Ollie/Diggle, Ollie/Diggle/Felicity, Ollie/Slade, Ollie/Slade/Shado

For anything post island, I'd like something that deals with the fact that Ollie doesn't have issues, he's got the complete set.

But I'll happily read a good story that's gen, a crossover, or Ollie/Felicity, Ollie/Helena, Diggle/Felicity, etc.

Cereta Hell Theatre

devilc — Tue, 01 Oct 2013 22:26:27 GMT

Folks, Cereta has been having a bad 2013. She has gotten no wound that hasn't had a little salt rubbed into it for good measure.

One of the things that Cereta is most known for is "Grading Hell Theatre" -- she throws out a prompt and invites you to tell what various characters would do in response. It never fails to make everybody smile.

Cereta needs something nice and fun to happen. So, I'm declaring Cereta Hell Theatre: Marvel Cinematic Universe / Marvel 616 World Problems.

Pick some characters from the MCU or the 616 and describe some sort of crazy problem they'd have to deal with that (thank goodness) we don't have to deal with.

Here, let me get you started ...

Everybody tripped over and/or stubbed a toe at least once on Mjolnir, but Tony built a special stand for it after that time that Bruce stubbed his toe really hard on it, hulked out, and leveled the Avengers mansion.

Leave your responses at this post

Fic: So Turn Around and I'll Pick up the Slack

devilc — Mon, 29 Jul 2013 02:34:56 GMT

Fandom: The Shadow Line
Pairing: Ratallack/Jay Wratten
Rating: Teen (language)
Spoilers: Assumes you've seen the whole series
Author's Note: Something I found in a note book of mine, and, since I'm trying to be creative again, I decided to type it up.

There's a cameo-crossover with Thorne

Title and cut tag come from from Justin Timberlake's "Sexy Back"

Legalese: The Shadow Line (and Thorne) are copyright their respective owners. This is just a bit of whatiffery, riffing on some tensions I noticed between characters in the later episodes, with the added hat trick of what if a few characters crossed paths.

(Them other boys don't know how to act / I think it's special what's behind your back)

The Wolverine

devilc — Fri, 26 Jul 2013 15:27:52 GMT

This movie has plenty of shirtless Hugh Jackman. If this is the reason you are going to this movie, you will be well pleased.

This movie also has some great fight choreography.

But if you want a story that makes sense where the characters have logical, well-developed motives? Not so much.

I give it a solid meh.

You must stay through the first part of the credits. You MUST.

Blast from the Past

devilc — Tue, 23 Jul 2013 03:20:47 GMT

When I cleaned off the desk in the loft, I found the hard copy of a story I wrote back in 2006 for Mini-Nano. I'd been editing it and for whatever reason, it got buried and forgotten.

2006. Back when DC was truly Delicious Crack, and Geoff Johns's run on JSA and Hawkman was gloriously slashy. ~Sigh~

Yeah, I need to make time to whip this thing into proper shape and post it.

----

I miss 2006-2008. I was crazy productive as a writer.

Fic: One for the Road -- Teen Wolf & Suits

devilc — Mon, 08 Jul 2013 05:11:53 GMT

Title: One for the Road
Fandoms: Teen Wolf and Suits
Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Harvey Specter, Mike Ross
Pairings: pre-slash Derek & Stiles
Rating: Teen
Author's Note: I was noodling through some old files and realized I never posted this.

A slightly different version was published in the Con*Strict 2012 'zine. Written after S1 of Teen Wolf and before I got bored with Suits and bailed on it. I got the idea when I saw that Derek had a New York driver's license and thought that if ever anybody needed a shark-in-a-suit lawyer, it was Derek. Oh, there's also a hat-tip to another fandom in here.
Legalese: Written for the purpose of answering the question of what if Harvey Specter was Derek's lawyer, nothing more. Teen Wolf is copyright its respective owners, and so is Suits.

(Some roadtrips feel like driving on a treadmill for 12 hours)

And, so, about QOTSA's new drummer ....

devilc — Mon, 27 May 2013 04:10:43 GMT

1) I'm sold on Jon Theodore. Don't get me wrong, I love it every time that J Ho is able to ~~talk~~ seduce Dave Grohl into drumming for QOTSA, but, damn, it's not every decade that you can find a guy who can figure out how to put his own bit of flair into Monster in the Parasol, where the sheer BPM doesn't give a drummer much room for anything but keeping time. And yet, he found room for a little extra sauce. ;)

2) He's almost as tall as Josh ... definitely a strapping fellow.

3) What a pity he's terribly, terribly hard on the eyes. Yup. Terribly hard. What a trainwreck. XD

4) He's got no sense of humor, either.

And this is why I love Queens of the Stone Age so DAMN much.

devilc — Fri, 24 May 2013 22:38:03 GMT

So, last night, they played a concert at the Wiltern in Los Angeles and they let National Public Radio stream the whole thing live, both audio and video.

Reading the comments from fans worldwide as it streamed was almost as fun as the show. Seriously, it was awesome to see the love and thanks to the band and to NPR come in from all over the globe.

It's one of the most AMAZING 2 hours of music I've ever heard. "Song for the Dead" got shredded into (as one fan put it) "evil Hendrix" and during "Feelgood Hit of the Summer", Josh sang some lyrics from Amy Winehouse's "Rehab."

At the end of the show, NPR staff said to check back in few days for clips from the show.

Nope.

QOTSA let them repost the WHOLE thing.

And, if I can quote one of my fellow fans from last night? "This is how you make love to an audience."

Spartacus-Vikings Crossover Fic: I Rival any Fucking Man

devilc — Fri, 12 Apr 2013 05:35:19 GMT

Title: I Rival any Fucking Man
Fandoms: Spartacus and Vikings
Pairings: Gannicus/Saxa, Ragnar/Lagertha/Saxa
Rating: Teen and up (Not Adult, because you really don't want me phoning in porn.)
Spoilers: You'll get several in-jokes if you've seen through S3:E9 of Spartacus, and S1:E5 of Vikings.
Author's Note: Written with love for Turnonmyheels and expanded from a comment fic written when she said she wanted Lagertha/Saxa. (Proofed, but not beta'd. ) I play a bit fast and loose with British history. (I mean, beyond the obvious of writing Saxa and Gannicus into Vikings.)
Disclaimer: This is a tongue in cheek labor of not for profit whatiffery written for a friend and because I love Saxa and Lagertha and because I'm going to miss Spartacus (which is copyright its respective owners) but I'm enjoying the sheer ongoing crack of Vikings (which is copyright its respective owners).

When she refused to marry the fat, red-nosed old slug he found for her, Saxa's father shipped her off to a nunnery as punishment.

So what if he was rich and a lord? He had a prick the size of a boy's, and about as useful, too. (The night before the wedding, Saxa slipped out of her chamber and into his and tried him out. Or, more accurately, she tried to try him out, but nothing doing.)

The morning of the wedding, her father and two of his men dragged her -- just short of kicking and screaming -- to the altar. Midway through the reading of the vows, Saxa made her move. After punching both the fat old lord and the priest in the face, she hiked up her skirts and ran out the side door of the chapel and straight into the arms of a long-haired wild Celt named Gannicus. Instantly sizing him up as a man of action, Saxa tore the gold chain -- a gift from her intended -- from around her neck and said in broken Gaelic that he could have that, and more, if he got her the hell out of Monkchester, right fucking now.

He grabbed his horse and laughed as he swung her up to ride behind him. Saxa clung to him as they tore through the streets … and not just for dear life.

Her father, his henchmen, and the shire-reeve captured them a week later just outside Bere-wīc.

"Every night we drank like fish and fucked like rabbits," were the first words Saxa snarled in her father's face when they hauled her over to him. His fist instantly found her mouth, splitting her lip before she could tell them about the nights that she and Gannicus shared a farmer's daughter, and that it was her idea to do so.

Saxa held her head high and with the look in her eyes she dared her father to hit her again.

Gannicus, it turned out, was a trusted vassal and close friend of the fearsome King of Strathclyde, the one they called Spartacus, who, with Gannicus at his side, a few years back seized the mighty fortress of Alt Clut through a cunning plan and then kept it by besting any who dared to try and take it from him.

Gannicus bristled with anger when Saxa's father hit her, but he kept his voice strong and steady when he told them, "If you will release me, I will pay the wergild and take her to wife."

The torc around his neck alone could pay her wergild thrice over if the coin left in his purse after their week of wine and wenching couldn't cover it. A good match. A better one, actually, than the stinky old goat that her father wanted her wed to.

Her father, damn him, would have none of it. As they bundled her, trussed like a pig, into the back of a wagon, Saxa caught one final glimpse of her wild Celt, bound and fettered, tied to the back of his horse like a sack of meal as the shire-reeve's men lead it towards the border between Northumbria and Strathclyde. As much as they wanted to, her father and the shire-reeve dared not kill Gannicus for fear of bringing the wrath of Spartacus down upon them. (And, if they were lucky enough to survive that, they'd then have to face the wrath of King Aella, for having provoked the mighty Lord of Alt Clut, provided Spartacus hadn’t conquered Northumbria in the meantime.)

Saxa sighed inwardly and took some solace in knowing Gannicus would live to pleasure other women.

(She had many flaws, this she knew, but neither was she greedy nor selfish.)

To Saxa’s surprise, her father did not take her home. They went to the isle of Lindisfarne, less than a day's journey from Bere-wīc. She cursed her father and his lackeys loudly and at length as they hauled her across the mudflats (for she refused to walk) to the abbey. Her father tithed them her dowry to take her as a novice.

The nuns dressed her in a shapeless sack of itchy white wool and birched her for every transgression. Every Sunday, a priest, Father Ashur, visited the island to say the mass and hear confession. Saxa could tell that he longed to get her alone, but that he lacked the courage. (The grunting and squelching noises as he podgered one of the other novices, a stupid mousy widow with eyes always pink from her sniveling and tears, turned Saxa's stomach.)

She wasn't allowed outside the walls of the abbey for fear she'd flee.

They put Saxa in the weaving room and forced her to work on a tapestry about the life of Mary Magdalene in the hopes it would inspire her to mend her ways. (As if she would ever voluntarily give up fucking.)

Worst of all, they didn't let her anywhere near the mead the abbey was also famous for.

Every day in the chapel and in her dormitory, Saxa got on her knees and prayed to whoever might be listening for deliverance. (Preferably into the arms of Gannicus, or somebody equally lusty and skilled.)

Salvation did not come from the west, but from the east. Reavers in longships. Men much like the legendary Vandals and Visigoths from the scops' songs about the legendary Waldere and Hildegyth, his wife. Saxa's favorite of these stories told of how Waldere, armed with Mimming, his great sword -- forged by the legendary smith, Weyland -- prepared to take on Gunthere, their mutual enemy, and Hildegyth reminded him that there were only two outcomes for a warrior: glory or death. As a girl Saxa had dreamt of picking up a sword to see which of these fates she would earn. Now? Now, there was only the fate of the nuns: drudgery and death.

Saxa baffled the men who broke down the gate the night after the great storm. She did not cower and run, but joined them, thanking them for coming and begging for an sword so she could help them split heads.

(No, she did not speak their tongue, but it was close enough to Englisc that these reavers got the gist. One of the men also tried to put his hands on her, but a slash from her sword put paid to that.)

When she had finished dealing out bloody retribution, her white smock soaked with red, these men gathered 'round and called her berserkr and shieldmaiden and found her a pair of hose, a smock, boots, and a cloak to wear. They put her (and all the treasure of the abbey, including several barrels of mead) in their dragonship and sailed east towards their lands.

They talked to her of their gods: Odin, and Thor, and Sif, and Freya, of the Aesir and the Vanir, of Valhalla, of the World Serpent, of Loki and the rest of the Jotuns as the ship danced across the breaking waves.

She in turn taught them Gannicus’s favorite song. They sang it with gusto as they rowed.

Ragnar, their leader, a man as handsome and bold as Gannicus, proudly claimed her as his one prize -- though he did not call her "thrall" or put a rope around her neck -- when their sly snake of an Earl publically cheated them of rest their treasure.

"Trust me," Ragnar spoke under his breath when they came at last to his stedding, and Saxa first saw his wife, a blonde woman (with hair even more flaxen than hers) and eyes like a hawk's, whose name was Lagertha. "Trust me," he repeated, as he scooped Lagertha up in his arms, heading into his hall, and shutting the door behind him, leaving Saxa with his children ... who had too many questions. She stumbled over the words (damn this tongue of theirs! almost like Englisc, but just different enough to trip you up like a fucking dog underfoot on a dark night) as she couldn't help but be distracted by the sounds of their parents’ enthusiastic fucking.

Later that night, after the children had gone to sleep, Ragnar and Lagertha came to Saxa and asked a question.

They didn't have to ask twice, or ever again, actually.

When the next summer came, Ragnar only reluctantly went a-viking.

And Lagertha and Saxa? Well, these were uncertain times, and the Earl (and his lap-dog followers) were not to be trusted.

The stedding needed two shieldmaidens to defend it (and keep the sheets warm) until Ragnar's return.

Walking Dead Challenge

devilc — Wed, 13 Mar 2013 04:01:00 GMT

As I head to work each day, I run a kind of a version of Cereta's grading hell theater in my head -- what if Characters from world X got dropped into the world of The Walking Dead?

Shameless Frank gets eaten early on. Karen, Tony, and Jimmy are missing, presumed dead. Fiona manages to keep it together as they're evacuated to a camp, and when the camp gets overrun, she manages to get all the Gallaghers out and they just kept going south until they couldn't go any further.

Currently her group -- Lip, Ian, Debbi, Carl, Liam, Kev, Veronica, Shelia, Jody, Mickey and Mandy are holed up in Cairo, Illinois with a young couple, Matt and Julie, and a local or two. They've built a barricade across the narrow part of the peninsula. They're trying to figure out vegetable gardens and chicken coops.

Friday Night Lights
Tim and Billy Riggins kick ass at schwacking the Walkers. They've taken over the McCoy McMansion and fortified the grounds. 'Nuff Said.

Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles/Terminator: Salvation

I had such a dream about this this morning. They're (Sarah, John, Marcus, Derek, Cameron) trying to figure out if the plague was Skynet engineered and accidentally let loose before Skynet figured out how make sure it comes into being. Right now they're in a future that in some ways, they're very prepared for, and in others, not at all. They still have to make sure that Skynet never happens, they've got to hunt down all the terminators, but now they've got to do it in a world full of walkers and little to no electricity.

They lit out of So-Cal at the first sign of trouble.

Currently, they're holed up in Hard Luck, Nevada, but Sarah thinks that they should scout nearish-by Scotty's Castle, which has reliable water and power.

Yuletide Fic Meme

devilc — Wed, 19 Dec 2012 15:57:53 GMT

2004
A Winter's Tale - A Song of Ice and Fire, for Misura

2005
Where There Were Seven - Louise Cooper: Time Master Trilogy , for psychomachia

2006
The Sleep of Reason - 28 Days Later, for linaerys

Stocking Stuffers, Treats, and NYRs:
A Rake at the Gates of Hell - Clarissa, for kezya

Not All the King's Horses, Nor all the King's Men - Ex Machina, for Apathy

A Life of Unquiet Desperation - Finder (comic), for Rush-That-Speaks

2007
Dreams - Friday Night Lights , for leiascully

Stocking Stuffers, Treats, and NYRs
Some Days It Just Seems Like - Latter Days, for brynwulf

2008
What Happens In Vegas - Friday Night Lights , for angel_grace

Stocking Stuffers, Treats, and NYRs
White Noise - LA Confidential , for lasergirl

Fait Accompli - Street Kings, for notatracer

2009
Steady Rollin' Man - Hurt Locker, for oddegg

I've Got Fifteen Bucks of Savior Faire - Hurt Locker, for gardinha

Across The Great Divide - Transamerica/Friday Night Lights (and a pinch of Sons of Anarchy), for Bond_Girl

Stocking Stuffers, Treats, and NYRs
Three Is the Magic Number - Friday Night Lights, for setissma

2010
Some Cold New River - To Live and Die in LA , for karaokegal

Stocking Stuffers, Treats, and NYRs
Did or Suffered Aught Disgraceful -Clash of the Titans (2010) , for Bakcheia

2011
Lights Will Guide You Home - Friday Night Lights, for minusoneday

Stocking Stuffers, Treats, and NYRs
Soul of a Lion - Warrior (2011) , for azewewish

Mini-Wrimo 2012

devilc — Wed, 05 Dec 2012 15:00:55 GMT

I wrote over 8k words and I averaged about 272 words per day.

For my fellow J-Ho fans

devilc — Tue, 13 Nov 2012 03:53:22 GMT

Alas, I did not have my camera to hand, but I was rolling through Desert Hot Springs, on vacation,looked down a street and saw a sign saying Sky Valley -->

And I had Such a Kyuss Moment

Furtive -- SPN/Angel

devilc — Fri, 02 Nov 2012 04:24:50 GMT

Title: Furtive
Fandom: SPN/Angel
Pairing: Dean/Lindsey
Rating: Mature
Notes: Written for Porn Battle Amnesty (which I'll post up there as soon as I can find the link), the prompt word is "Whiskey".
Thank you to M'lyn for the beta.
Legalese: SPN and Angel the Series are copyright their owners. This is a not for profit labor of lust, not an act of filthy lucre.

( Furtive -- (1) done in a sly or stealthy manner; (2) obtained underhandedly, stolen )

Dear Yulegoat

devilc — Wed, 17 Oct 2012 03:28:53 GMT

You're awesome. Thank you.

Savages

My thoughts about the movie are here: http://devilc.dreamwidth.org/517614.html

Ben, Chon, and O in their life *after*. How does O adapt to a world without a shopping mall? Where there's finite money? Does Chon ever go from being a baddist to a ... not so baddist? Ben can't save the world, but can he save that little village he loves so much?

Do Ben and Chon love each other more than they love her, or is it really a mutual thing between the 3 of them?

Does the cartel ever find them again?

Does Chon ever see some of his old SEAL buddies from time to time?

Basically, what is their new purpose in life, and how do they find it? Do they live the rest of their lives looking over their shoulders?

Strike Back

Over on my dreamwidth, you'll find my Strike Back tag -- suggested reading.

I'll take Scott/Stonebridge fucking the pain the pain and rage away ... er, down to a manageable level.

I'll take a Dalton POV of Scott and Stonebridge.

Dalton ... Grant was her mentor, right? ;)

If you can pull off the crossover with Sons of Anarchy details are here -- http://devilc.dreamwidth.org/555754.html

Friday Night Lights

This series is the love of my fannish life.

The thing about getting Tim Riggins right is you've got to get his voice. Still waters run deep. He shows how he feels before he says how he feels.
I have two guilty pleasure pairings:
Tim/Landry and Tim/JD

I will always take a Tim/Jason/Lyla story -- the OT3 rides again!

I always thought that JD McCoy and Hastings Ruckle were underused characters. I would love any stories about them. And I really think that they were going to the "Hastings is gay" place in S5, but had to cut that short to wrap the main storylines up.

A LOLarious cameo from Coach Stan is always a bonus, and if you can get Coach Stan and Coach Billy being idjits together, that's even better.

Hell on Wheels

You'll want to checkout the hell on wheels tag http://devilc.dreamwidth.org/tag/hell+on+wheels for various and sundry thoughts.

If you can give me a story where Cullen/Elam find some time to "grapple", I will love you forever, because that's one packed to the brim with tension slashy story. I love the push-me-pull-you of their relationship.

If you'd like to give me a 10 years in the future story where Cullen/Elam/Eva live in a rambling ranch house with a master bed room at both ends and Eva understanding that Elam and Cullen have a special relationship, I'll be over the moon. (Hell, she could understand it, IIRC, she was taken by a tribe where a man could take more than one wife, and there were acknowledged relationships between men.)

What I like so much about this series is that it shows the tensions that threaded through society, but it also shows how, on the west, they eroded because people were so dependent on each other. And if you read the history of the Logging Camps and the Cattle Drives, m/m relationships were quietly encouraged, or at least not always punished because a boss knew that it kept things stable and steady.

You might even write a 3some story where Cullen and Eva let people assume they're man and wife in some public situations and ... what happens back on the ranch? Well, that's none of anybody else's damn'd business.

Thanks again. Yuletide is pretty much the only fannish exchange I participate in. It gives me hope for humanity, watching people come together to makes sure that everybody gets a shiny in their inbox. And you, Dear Author, are a part of that.

Go forth and have fun creating!

Yuletide observation

devilc — Mon, 24 Sep 2012 03:42:00 GMT

Friday Night Lights is still eligible.