Happy, geeky stories

Merlin: An Ever-Fixed Mark (Part 2/2)

imperfectcircle — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 15:16:56 GMT

For header information, SEE PART ONE

Please click here to read An Ever-Fixed Mark on AO3.

Merlin: An Ever-Fixed Mark (Part 1/2)

imperfectcircle — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 15:15:15 GMT

Title: An Ever-Fixed Mark
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: Merlin/Morgana/Gwen/Arthur
Rating: PG
Wordcount: ~15 000
Warnings: None (see policy)
With thanks: To derryderrydown for beta, to vampire_kitten for listening to my plot woes, to chosenfire28 for awesome art and to polybigbang for organising this wonderful challenge.
Notes: This was written before Season Two started airing.

Accompanying art: Here by chosenfire28. I love it and I hope you will too.

Summary: Fusion with Ursula le Guin's planet O. In a world with very different marriage rules, a noble wedding and a magical threat still can't make Merlin, Arthur, Gwen and Morgana talk about their feelings.

Please click here to read An Ever-Fixed Mark on AO3.

(For completeness, part 2/2 could previously be found here, though now there is just a link to the story on AO3.)

Vid: Lewis: Ruby

imperfectcircle — Wed, 26 Aug 2009 14:31:17 GMT

Title: Ruby
Fandom: Lewis
Song: Ruby by The Kaiser Chiefs
Pairing: Lewis/Hathaway
Spoilers/Warnings: Clips taken from up to 2x02
With thanks: To vampire_kitten and daegaer for their detailed and patient betas -- all mistakes, of course, are mine.

Download from Sendspace (16MB)

or

watch on YouTube:

Any and all feedback will be adored. Really.

Lewis: Salting the Wound

imperfectcircle — Tue, 18 Aug 2009 07:57:18 GMT

Title: Salting the Wound
Fandom: Lewis
Pairing: Lewis/Hathaway
Rating: PG
Wordcount: ~6500
Warnings: None (see policy)
With thanks: To brightlywoven for beta, cheerleading and being made of awesome. All mistakes are, of course, mine.
Summary: A death at a dinner party leads Lewis and Hathaway to investigate a group of teachers, doctors and other pillars of the community.

"Right, you two," Hobson said in her special tone of voice for talking to children, the mentally incompetent and police officers. "George Bloom was a friend of mine, Devi Monkford is a friend of mine, and you are going to pull your collective finger out on this one."

Please click here to read Salting the Wound on AO3.

Abandoned fiction 2: Coupling: The One With The Man-Penis-Friend

imperfectcircle — Sat, 02 May 2009 21:56:59 GMT

Another abandoned ficlet!

Warnings: None (see policy)

"I have a boyfriend," said Jeff, wild-eyed and sweating heavily. "A boyfriend. Who is a boy. Man. Friend. Manfriend. I have a manfriend. With a penis."

Steve gave Jeff a wary pat on the shoulder. "That's okay?" he tried. "We'll work something out." And then, because he just couldn't resist, "And we'll support you, of course."

Jeff took a deep breath. "Thank you, man." He was swaying slightly, keeping his eyes fixed on Steve's.

Resisting the urge to blink, Steve pushed on. "How did you get this man-penis-friend?"

Jeff flailed his hands in the air, like he was trying to ride a steamship powered by cheese.

"It's a book?" Steve suggested. "A film? Two words?"

With a sigh, Jeff tried to speak. "C- C-" His hands waved out in front of him, as if they could push the words forward.

"Gone With The Wind!"

It wasn't.

"I asked him!" Jeff said, as if he couldn't quite believe he'd done it.

Steve couldn't quite believe he'd done it, either. "This bold new life-style choice," he said, trying not to laugh in Jeff's face just yet, "really suits you." There'd be time for laughing once Jeff's man-penis-friend had been disabused of his man-penis-notions. "We'll work something out," he said again.

===

"I could never be gay," Patrick remarked. "Envy is such a mood killer."

"Oh, Patrick," said Steve, "you've got nothing to be je--."

"I know."

===

"Have you ever considered the fact he might actually like men?" asked Susan, her lips twitching in Expression 31: Steve May Get Laid This Evening.

"Jeff?" Steve laughed. "Jeff, I like breasts, they jiggle when I touch them, Jeff?"

"Jeff," Susan confirmed, Expression 31 still in place. "Jeff, I have a boyfriend, Jeff."

"But he's..." Steve tailed off. "He's Jeff."

Expression 24: Steve May Get Very Laid This Evening Because I'm Feeling Sorry For Him For Reasons That Will Become Clear Later, Ruining The Afterglow, peeked out from round the corner. "He is," Susan said, fondly.

===

Jeff's man-penis-friend was called George. He was like Jeff, only taller.

"Breasts," said Jeff, nodding happily to himself.

"Breasts," George agreed.

"Lacy underwear," said Jeff. "Like the fiddly posh wrapping on really expensive chocolates."

"Nipples," said George.

"Nipples," Jeff agreed.

Watching on in horror, Steve turned to Patrick. "He's cloned himself. That's not a boyfriend, that's a mirror."

Patrick nodded. "Clever."

Steve just blinked.

"Not for him, obviously. But for me."

"Right." Sometimes it was simpler not to argue.

Abandoned fiction 1: Doctor Who: The sun was shining on the sea

imperfectcircle — Sat, 02 May 2009 18:53:34 GMT

I found a cache of fiction I abandoned last summer -- I'm slowly going through and deciding what to salvage and what to give up. Sadly, this first half of a Doctor Who story, which was meant to be part of a whole alternative series of Donna and Martha adventures, is one of the casualties.

Lots of spoilers for seasons three and four.

Warnings: None (see policy)

===
===

"This," said Martha with flourish that didn't sit quite right with her spare, quick movements, "is a TARDISH."

Donna looked at it more closely. It looked more like one of those old-fashioned double bikes you saw on films. A tandem. A voice in the back of her head started singing, 'Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do.'

"It travels through Time And Relative Dimensions In Space," Martha explained. "Hopefully."

===
===

Oxford, 1859

They stepped out of the TARDISH onto soft, green grass. They were in some sort of huge court, walled by beautiful stone buildings. Martha smiled to herself. Right place, at least.

"Oxford," she said. "Christ Church College, Tom Quad. With any luck, we're somewhere in the 1860s."

"How can you tell?" Donna asked, but she was gaping at the architecture with gratifyingly large eyes.

Martha took the handlebars of the TARDISH, and motioned for Donna to grab the frame. "We need to move this off the grass. Now."

 "Why? Does it react badly with grass? Does it need to be kept out of the sun? Is it going to start sinking?"

"No," said Martha, nodding at the far gate. "But otherwise those men over there in bowler hats are going to come and shout at us, and that's always annoying. On three."

On three, they lifted the tandem up and moved it onto a gravel path.

"We're here to see Charles Dodgson," Martha said. "Holder of the Christ Church lectureship in mathematics. He's--"

"No," said Donna, holding up her hand. "Don't tell me. I want to see if I can do this on my own." She closed her eyes, screwing up her face in concentration. After a moment, she started biting her lip. "Ooh, I think I've got it. What was the name?"

"Charles Dodgson. But he's--"

"No!" Donna grinned, excitement and disbelief chasing each other across her face. "That? Is amazing."

"Yeah." Martha grinned back.

"No."

"Yeah."

"Oh my god," said Donna. "We're really going to meet him? We're going to meet--"

"Yeah."

"We're going to meet the Frankenstein?"

Martha blinked. "Um."

Now would be an excellent time to start studying her fingernails. There was something caught under one, maybe she could get it out before anyone noticed.

"Nah, just kidding. Lewis Carroll, here we come!"

===

Torchwood liked to take the idea of offsite backup very, very seriously, Martha explained as they trapsed around the old stone buildings looking for Professor Dodgson's rooms. Anything big enough and bad enough to destroy the onsite data was probably big enough and bad enough to destroy most of the world.

"Modest, aren't you?" Donna interrupted.

So they needed to put the data far out of harm's way, somewhere that spanned enough time, enough history and enough weirdness that a little more couldn't hurt.

Martha let her hand trail along one of the walls, the rough stone strangely comforting. Through one of the windows, she could see a skeleton, the sign of a medical student. The way its arm had been raised in a jaunty salute didn't make it look more friendly; in this day and age, that would be a real person's bones.

"There's only one problem," Martha said, stopping to peer up an unlit staircase. It twisted in on itself, with shadows inching their way out of the darkness like they didn't want to make the first move.

"Of course there is." Donna tapped her head. "There's a lot in here about Torchwood. Go on then, what do we have to do? Sacrifice a Dithri kittenplant with an aluminium penknife to unlock the abDNA-imprinted encryption key?"

Martha tried to give her a quelling look. There was a lot to quell with Donna, even when they weren't stumbling round an Oxford college, trying to find just where Torchwood had thrown their needle in this particular haystack. "No. It's just-- It's still in the experimental stage."

"Right. Of course."

"But it's fine," Martha said, doing her best to sound reassuring. "Nothing can--"

"No," said Donna. "Don't tell me nothing can go wrong."

Martha gave her another look. "I was going to say: nothing can be as bad as doing this accompanied by the Doctor's cheerfully off-key singing."

Donna tilted her head, a smile flickering on and off almost too fast to see. "Yeah. I'll give you that."

"Oi!"

They looked across the vast expanse of immaculately kept lawn to see a man in a bowler hat waving at them.   "You!"

Less of a wave and more of a threatening gesture, really. The sort of imperious command that made Martha think back to being John Smith's maid. She kept him in her sights while letting out a quiet mutter. "Run?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Donna's smile. "Nah, just let me try something, first."

Martha itched for a gun.

"Oi!" Donna shouted, just as imperious. "You! Come here!" Then, to Martha, she whispered, "If he stands his ground, we run. If he comes, we stand our ground. And if-- Oh yes."

The man -- more of a boy, really, Martha could see now in his hesitant movements -- was stumbling towards them across the pebbled path. Across, Martha noted, not along. Any second now, he was going to hit the lawn, and--

"What the bleeding hell do you think you are doing, my boy?" Donna shouted, so firm Martha had to fight down the urge to apologise herself. "Do you think that lawn was made for the likes of you to go trampling across it on a whim?" She pronounced the last like a dirty word.

"Keep it down," Martha offered, watching the boy change course like he'd never even thought of touching grass. "Someone might come out to watch the show."

Donna folded her arms across her chest, the very image of an unimpressed ward sister. "Yeah? Better make it a good one, then, hadn't I?"

There was no arguing with that tone of voice. "How did you know that would work, anyway?"

"I didn't. Where's the fun in that?"

Martha felt herself tense. "You sure you're keeping the DoctorDonna behind lock and key?"

The boy was now in the same line of sight as Donna, so Martha was treated to a clear view of Donna's wince.

"Name?" Donna barked.

With one final, appealling glance at the other side of the lawn, the boy accepted he was in this alone. "Groats, miss. Terry Groats."

"Groats," Donna said to herself. "Groats. Ring a bell, does it, Jones?"

Martha scowled, not entirely for effect. There would be words, later. "Couldn't say, miss."

"Whose job, Groats, was it to keep that tidy?" Donna said, pointing at a beautifully kept flower bed.

Groats made a show of peering at it, then at her. "The gardeners', miss," he said. "And who might you be?"

"Not that." Donna held her finger out in the same direction. "Any fool can see that is in perfect order. The path."

The path was just as neat as the flower bed, but the harmonics in Donna's voice would have made the Doctor apologise. And mean it.

"Um," said Groats.

"Yes. Quite. Well, I think you'd better come with us then, hadn't you?"

===

"Look, I'm sorry," Donna hissed as soon as Terry was safely out of earshot, scurrying up some endless spiral of stairs to announce them to Lewis bloody Carroll.

"Yeah, well," Martha said. She looked like she was forcing herself to relax, ready -- and what was worse, waiting -- to spring into action.

Donna sighed. "No, I am."

She watched Martha peer up the stairwell. The lad would take his time, Donna knew, a petty victory over some big-for-her-boots scullery maid -- or whatever, who knew what he thought she was? -- who just happened to have the upper hand for now. She hoped the diversion didn't give him the chance to do some thinking.

"Yeah? Well maybe you could tell me something, then," Martha said, her voice a little harder than it had been before.

The tell-tale sound of Terry's boots came thumping down the stairwell. Honestly, give a man a bowler hat... It's almost as bad as giving him a screwdriver.

"Better make it quick."

"What's it like?" Martha asked. "Really?"

Donna took a breath, only letting it out when Terry's hat, followed in short order by the rest of him, appeared. "Can I get back to you on that?"

"He'll see you now," Terry said, ducking his head just a little too pointedly for Donna's liking. Still, give Martha five minutes with Mr Alice In Wonderland himself, and they'd have protection from all the trouble any jumped up bowler hat could cause them.

Hopefully.

===

"And wuh-what can I d-d-d-"

A stutter. No one had warned Donna about a stutter. She felt her hearts-- her heart clench. Was that it, then? Doomed forever to go weak at the knees whenever a man couldn't say his own name?

"--do for you?" Lewis Carroll himself finished. He did not sound like a man ready and waiting to hand over anything.

Martha sprang into action, all smooth talk and firm handshakes, letting Donna have a moment to take in the room.

How he could find anything in this mess, she didn't know. Give her two days -- make it four, she amended, spotting the piles of papers lurking like guilty children under his desk -- and she could have this sorted. But no, she'd seen his type before. It was all right for some, filing, but you got enough letters after your name and suddenly you had a System, and no jumped up temp with a lip on her was going to ruin that just because she knew her alphabet.

"--always been fascinated by your work," Martha was saying. "Your treatment of determinants is so enlightening."

"Wuh-women d-d-d-d- can't normally understand my work," he said. "Huh-haven't the training."

"Oh," said Martha, gleam in her eye, "I've got the training, all right."

For a man with no chin, the look he was giving Martha was surprisingly piercing. "Fuh-foreign, are you?"

"Your thoughts on the parallel postulate, Professor Dodgson, have reached my home country."

He nodded to himself. "Fuh-funny, that. They seem not to have reached my students."

Martha gave him a sympathetic shrug. "Tell me about it. I can't even get my lot to remember the first four axioms, let alone question the fifth."

As she'd been talking, Martha had casually moved them so his back was to Donna. She took advantage of this to mouth to Martha, What?

Martha rolled her eyes, then let her gaze flick briefly to the desk. Oh. Right. Donna started inching towards it, trying not to step on any of the papers littering the floor.

"D-d-d-d-delighted to meet you," Alice-boy said, extending his hand to Martha. "Miss--?"

"Doctor Jones," Martha said.

Carroll hummed and hahhed to himself for a minute, then turned to Donna. "And who, may I ask, is the charming young lady so stealthily approaching my d-d-d-d-desk?"

Donna didn't blush. She didn't. "Donna Noble," she said, holding out her hand. "And may I just say what a wonderful experience it is to meet you?"

"Hmm," he said. "Yes." He didn't take her hand. "Refreshing of you not to make a pun."

Behind him, Martha winced.

"But fuh-for all your justifiable interest in my wuh-work, I can tell by your outlandish clothes you are not here for that."

"Yes," said Martha quickly. "We--"

"I know, I know. You're here about the d-d-d-d-"

Donna nodded encouragement. "The device? The data? The dashing Captain Jack?"

The look he gave her could have frozen lava. "The d-deaths."

===

Jack had done a whole day training session on Dodgson's work, just in case anyone had to do what Martha was doing right now. Well, he'd tried, anyway. The first two times they'd been saved by alien invasion, and the third he'd given up in disgust, complaining it was so far beneath 51st century maths it was like trying to program a computer with an abacus. A broken abacus. With no beads.

At that point, Ianto had taken over.

Nineteenth century Britian was basically, he pointedly hadn't said, the Torchwood of the mathematical world. No one could say they didn't try, and occasionally even get results, but nothing was ever that useful, and the only people convinced of its importance were other nineteenth century British mathematicians. When they needed anything really important or interesting done, they had to go begging to some foreign doctor.

Like Torchwood, they were a lot easier to work with if you didn't point this out. It was only that thought that kept Martha from sharing the insight with Donna. The way Dodgson was treating her made Martha bristle; he clearly needed someone to look down on. His work hadn't even been that monumental, when she'd finally bothered to look at it. Nothing like the last Maths For Medics course she took, but once you got used to the arcane language, not that much harder.

===
[...]
===

"They're Carpenter Fish! Clever little creatures, parasitic as hell. They gestate on brain waves, the cleverer the better. Normally found on aquatic worlds, they probably make do with dolphins, here. Sea turtles at a pinch. They need brain waves to gestate, and then once they've popped, they swim out to live their short, happy lives attached to deep-sea plants, leaving behind them no exit wound and a faint, lingering euphoria. Nothing could be simpler. They're even kept as pets out in Scattaci 3. And controlled substances on Scattaci 5, come to think of it. But with humans, oh, no, that's sad. They pick up on the brain waves, get hooked, and then happily gestate latched inside a muscle somewhere. But when the time comes to get back into the water, they've got to drive you there with them. Oh, oh, and that's when the voices start, I'll bet. Little rhymes telling them to go out into the sea, it's perfectly safe. Nothing but friends here. Then nothing but Carpenters."

===
===

And some other nice snippets, outlining the major plot:

"Do you want my version, or his?" Donna asked.

Martha thought for a moment. "Yours."

"It's basically me telling him to sit down, shut up and let me drive. Only it's not him, it's me and him, the DoctorDonna, and he doesn't like sitting still. That's my version, anyway. You want to hear it from him, too? It's like mine, only with the words 'transducal biopic node' thrown in for no good reason."

---

"What's it like?" Martha asked. "Really?"

Donna was silent for long enough Martha was almost sure she hadn't heard the question. "Can I get back to you on that?"

---

"It's like falling out of love," Donna said suddenly. "That's what this is like. You ever been in love before Tom?"

Martha nodded, silent.

"You know what's it's like, then, when you're falling out of love. And most of the time, right, you're fine. You've moved on, you're you, you've got the whole bloody world in front of you. And then something happens, you hear a song or you see a spider or something, and you're back there, so not over them it's not even funny, and your whole world's changed. You're still you, but you're not alone in your head any more, because everything you see is about them, and everything you do is about them, and--" Donna broke off. "Yeah. It's like that. I should've let him do this. He loves doing the analogies."

---

"You said 'them'," Martha remarked. "Earlier, you said 'them'."

Donna gave her a Look. "You what?"

"You said, 'You're so not over them it's not funny.' Not 'him', but 'them'."

There was a pause. Donna fiddled with her [plot point]. "Yeah, well. I was young once."

---

"Do you know how he felt about us?" Martha asked, not looking at Donna. "Can you access that bit?"

"No," Donna lied. "Sorry." She bumped Martha's shoulder with hers. "But I know how he feels about us."

"Yeah?" Martha asked, faking casual not well at all.

"Yeah," said Donna. Sometimes she felt younger than Martha, that extra year of life worth ten of Donna's, and sometimes, like now, she felt much older. "He loves us, Martha. He does. He's a big, stupid, soft idiot with two hearts that need filling, and we're in there. We are."

---

"You're dying," Martha blurted. "You're dying."

Donna nodded slowly, almost embarrassed. "Yeah. Sorry."

===
===

Discworld/Due South: Ankh-Morpork's Most Wanted

imperfectcircle — Mon, 20 Apr 2009 14:23:10 GMT

Title: Ankh-Morpork's Most Wanted
Fandom: Discworld/Due South
Pairing: RayK/Fraser
Wordcount: ~1000
Warnings: None (see policy)
Notes: This is a tribute, pure and simple, to cesperanza's amazing Chicago's Most Wanted. It should just about make sense if you haven't read that first, but I would highly, highly recommend doing so. It is written for birdsflying, with thanks and love.
Summary: I first came to Ankh-Morpork on the trail of the killers of my father...

Please click here to read Ankh-Morpork's Most Wanted on AO3.

Merlin: Without Song

imperfectcircle — Tue, 20 Jan 2009 14:49:09 GMT

Title: Without Song
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: ~8400
Spoilers: Vague spoilers for The Mark of Nimueh.
Warnings: None (see policy)
With thanks: To derryderrydown, for beta and general awesomeness. All mistakes, of course, are mine.
Summary: In which Arthur is envoy to a grieving family, and Merlin rides with him.

Please click here to read Without Song on AO3.

Dialogue-free drabbles

imperfectcircle — Wed, 14 Jan 2009 17:31:58 GMT

Pick a character / collection of characters / pairing in a fandom I know; pick one of the five senses; get a dialogue-free drabble!

Doctor Who: Five Doctors Who Weren't

imperfectcircle — Tue, 06 Jan 2009 09:57:30 GMT

Fandom: Doctor Who
Title: Five Doctors Who Weren't
Spoilers / Warnings / Pairings: None (see warnings policy)
Rating: G
Wordcount: 5 x 250
Summary: Does exactly what it says on the tin.

Please click here to read Five Doctors Who Weren't on AO3.

Merlin: And Still

imperfectcircle — Fri, 31 Oct 2008 13:36:55 GMT

Title: And Still
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur.
Rating: PG
Wordcount: ~5800
Spoilers: Spoils up to 1x5, Lancelot.
Warnings: None (see policy)
With thanks: To derryderrydown and anotherusedpage for the fabulous beta. All mistakes, of course, are mine.
Summary: In which there is a quest, a test, and maybe some kissing.

Please click here to read And Still on AO3.

History Boys: I'll Remember April

imperfectcircle — Wed, 27 Aug 2008 11:17:47 GMT

I found this on my computer yesterday. I've no idea when I wrote it, but it makes me smile.

Title: I'll Remember April
Fandom: History Boys
Pairing: Mrs Lintott/Akthar
Rating: PG
Wordcount: ~1500
Warnings: None (see policy)
Summary: Mrs Lintott walks into a bar.

She sounds like Hector, telling herself lies upon lies just to keep the coffin lid of truth from finally slamming down.

Please click here to read I'll Remember April on AO3.

Doctor Who: Turning

imperfectcircle — Mon, 25 Aug 2008 09:48:15 GMT

I watched the end of Doctor Who season four a day or so ago, and needed some fix-it fic.

Title: Turning
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG
Wordcount: ~2700
Spoilers: Up to the end of season four, obv.
Warnings: None (see policy)
Summary: Pure, unashamed fix-it fic for Donna Noble. Gen.

"Yeah," she says cheerily into the phone, flapping her slowly drying nails in the wind as she leans back on her boss's chair, "yeah, I'll get right on that."

For opportunemoment, whose meta sparked this. I hope you like it.

Please click here to read Turning on AO3.

SGA: Hold

imperfectcircle — Sun, 25 May 2008 14:41:46 GMT

The following is a double-length sestina written for kink_bingo. I've never written pornographic poetry before -- please let me know what you think.

Title: Hold
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Kink: Collar
Rating: Adult
Warnings: None (see policy)
With thanks: To anotherusedpage and apiphile for beta. This poem owes a debt to bironic's An Unanticipated Side Effect....

Please click here to read Hold on AO3.

WsIP: Bandom, Discworld, SGA

imperfectcircle — Fri, 24 Aug 2007 15:55:58 GMT

There's nothing like ridiculous amounts of stress to get those creative juices flowing. So, here are snippets from the five (five!) stories I'm distracting myself by working on:

===
===

The penny did not so much drop for Ryan as strike him with some force in the back of the head.

"Are you two--" He stopped, staring at Spencer and Brendon in fear. Morporkian was a language rich with words for what they were doing, a few even fit to print, but none captured the full horror of the situation. "Are you two together?" he ventured. It was like trying to describe the river Ankh; even if your brain didn't shut down in self-defence before the third synonym for putrid, it still had to be smelled to be believed.

Brendon made a snuffling noise into Spencer's neck. From somewhere in the pile of limbs, Spencer shot Ryan a pained look. "Brendon is courting us. All of us."

Ryan had grown up in the Shades. He knew a threat when he heard one.

--- Working title: Panic! at the Discworld sequel
Now with added plot! (Plot kindly donated by a friend.)
(Crossover: Bandslash / Discworld; OT4; current wordcount 1692)

===
===

"Hey, asshole!" Patrick yelled after the retreating figure.

Sure enough, Gabe turned round. "Who are you calling an asshole, asshole?"

"Yeah, who answered?" Patrick pointed out, not bothering to hide his grin. "Man, Pete said you wanted--" He tailed off, my sweet ass dying on his lips. This was, as he kept trying to tell Pete, not a topic for shouting across the streets of Chicago.

"Yeah, hey, I've been leaving messages on your cell all week." Gabe strode towards him, arms outstretched. "Why so cold, Stump?" he said, pulling Patrick into a tight hug. "Why don't you return my calls?"

"Dude, that was you with the heavy breathing?" Patrick slapped Gabe's back. "I thought it was your mom."

Gabe just squeezed harder. Stupid skinny fuckers and their stupid upper body strength.

-- Working title: You Can't Escape Now
Because jamjar fluttered her eyelashes.
(Bandslash; Gabe/Patrick; current wordcount 257)

===
===

"You need to put him with some godawful bands," said Frank, leaning forward. "Doesn't he?" He elbowed Gerard.

"What? Yeah." Gerard nodded earnestly.

There was a meaningful silence.

"Okay," said Mikey, "hands up who knows what Frank's talking about."

Frank raised a hand, then groaned in disgust as no one joined him. "Bob. Ray needs to set Bob up with some godawful bands, and then Bob will fall in love with him and we'll have a drummer."

"Okay," said Mikey again, "and hands up who doesn't want to know what Frank's talking about."

Frank grabbed the mustard from the side of the table. "The mustard is Bob, because Bob's hot, right?"

Ray found himself nodding. "Look, Frankie, it's not that I--"

"And the salt's, like, Joe Crazy and the Bad Saxophonists." Frank held the salt in his other hand. "And Bob and the salt play some gigs--" He pressed the pots together. "--and then--" He stopped. "Hey, pass me that knife!"

There was another pause.

"Or," Mikey said, "we could just pretend you have a sharp object."

Frank stuck out his tongue. "Dumbass. So, the salt's all creepy and tuneless and the mustard sees the light and runs into--" Frank grabbed the napkin. "-- into Ray's waiting arms and he, so, he casually mentions he has a band, too, and they fall in love and we all make beautiful music together."

Ray considered this for a moment. "Or I could do my job."

-- Working title: Parachuted In
Where Ray works for a record label. *handwave, handwave*
(Bandslash; Bob/Ray; current wordcount 1193)

===
===

"What?" Rodney tries to keep his voice down, but not very hard. "He could be a serial killer! He could--"

John isn't sure if he's serious.

"Okay, fine, you know sixty different ways to kill a man with your shoe. I'm not saying we're not safe, I'm saying I'm not safe. What if you're off seducing some poor, innocent roadside waif and he--"

John lifts his eyebrows. "I'll guard your virtue, McKay," he says, just for the look on Rodney's face while he tries to work out if he's been insulted or not.

Rodney comes down on not, at least for the moment. "Yes, well," he huffs. He looks pleased, like maybe he hadn't known John would protect him from aging serial killers with broken down Toyotas. John figures their casual life-saving must be another thing they left behind, if here in the Milky Way it's a surprise he'd throw his life down for Rodney's.

-- Working title: Further On Up The Road
After Atlantis, John indulges in some high-quality denial.
(SGA; McKay/Sheppard; current wordcount 3349)

===
===

At McMurdo, Rodney had spent a lot of time being quietly competent while everyone else was blindingly, jaw-droppingly stupid. He had to stop being surprised by that.

At least once he'd actually been allocated to the Atlantis expedition, it had been easier to persuade people to let him work near -- though, unreasonably, not on -- the alien technology.

"Bomb disposal expert," he'd pointed out. Then, glaring at whichever scientist was standing between him and something to do with his time, he'd add, "I have years of hands-on experience with things that might blow up and kill us all at a moment's notice, just like you do. Oh, no, wait."

-- Working title SGAU
Major McKay and Dr Sheppard go to Atlantis.
(SGA; McKay/Sheppard; current wordcount ~16 000 ahaha)

===
===

(And if you wanted to pop over to my non-fic journal and leave advice on moving to a whole nother country next week (omg!) then that would not go unappreciated. Um.)

Bandslash: Memory Loss sketchfic (Brendon/Ryan, Jon/Spencer)

imperfectcircle — Sat, 11 Aug 2007 13:26:02 GMT

Today on Poor Impulse Control Theatre, we ~~proudly~~ present Panic! at the Memory Loss, key moments from a memory loss cliché fic.

(Additional RPS Disclaimers: (1) NOT REAL NOT REAL NOT REAL. (2) If you found this by googling yourself, please hit the back button now. Please.)

Warnings: None (see policy)

Please click here to read Panic! at the Memory Loss on AO3.

Bandslash: Tired Boys and Wired Eyes

imperfectcircle — Sat, 28 Jul 2007 15:24:15 GMT

Title: Tired Boys and Wired Eyes
Pairing: Travis McCoy/William Beckett
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: ~6000
Warnings: None (see policy)
Summary: Elephants, friendship, touring.

Notes: Beta thanks to the fabulous jamjar, American-checking thanks to the wonderful st_lemur, all mistakes thanks to me. Title from GCH's 7 Weeks.
Additional RPS disclaimers: (1) NOT REAL NOT REAL NOT REAL. (2) If you found this story by googling your own name, please hit the back button now.

"I want an elephant," says Bill. Travis can see his eyes widen as he realizes what he's just said. Sometimes it takes a while for messages to get all the way from Bill's mouth to his brain. "I do. I'm a goddamn rock star, and I want an elephant."

Please click here to read Tired Boys and Wired Eyes at AO3.

A Selection of Hugs For Gerard Way (ft Patrick Stump, Mikey Way, Brendon Urie and Frank Iero)

imperfectcircle — Fri, 06 Jul 2007 10:00:06 GMT

Bandom, gen, ~1000 words.

Additional RPF disclaimer 1: NOT REAL NOT REAL NOT REAL.
Additional RPF disclaimer 2: If you found this story by googling your own name, please hit the back button now.

Warnings: None (see policy)

For birdsflying

It's disconcerting, like a balloon half deflated, and Patrick doesn't think twice before he has an armful of Gerard Way between him and the rest of the world.

Please click here to read A Selection of Hugs For Gerard Way on AO3.

Panic! at the Discworld

imperfectcircle — Wed, 20 Jun 2007 14:35:04 GMT

Title: Panic! at the Discworld
Pairing: OT4
Rating: G
Wordcount: ~5000
Notes and continuity: Bandslash / Discworld fusion. Set sometime between Soul Music and The Truth, with no major spoilers. Many thanks to jamjar for the awesome beta; all mistakes are, of course, mine.
Warnings: None (see policy)
Additional RPS disclaimer 1: NOT REAL NOT REAL NOT REAL.
Additional RPF disclaimer 2: If you found this story by googling your own name, please hit the back button now.

Brendon came from a tiny farm in the Ramtop mountains half a cow and two acorns short of being a hovel, and had assumed the city of Ankh-Morpork would be similar in size and variety to the kingdom of Lancre. It might even be smaller, he had supposed, because Lancre -- that huddled collection of villages, mountains and goats -- was a kingdom, whereas Ankh-Morpork was merely a city.

This was much like using height to deduce that a baby made less mess than a hat stand, and tended to have the same effect on one's shoes.

Please click here to read Panic! at the Discworld on AO3.

Hitchhiker's Guide: 5 x 100 words of genderswitch (some Ford/Arthur)

imperfectcircle — Fri, 30 Mar 2007 10:17:57 GMT

Um. Prompted by thingswithwings' always should be..., which really deserves better.

Five genderswitch drabbles, featuring Ford, Arthur and company. The first one may be eerily familiar to some of you.

Warnings: None (see policy)

Please click here to read 5 x 100 words of genderswitch on AO3.

imperfectcircle — Sat, 03 Mar 2007 17:05:06 GMT

Despite my long history of totally failing to write on command, I'm in the mood to a DVD-style commentary on one of my stories. If you have a preference as to which one, feel free to vote here.

Yuletide (The Longed-For Moment, History Boys) and Favourite Lines

imperfectcircle — Wed, 10 Jan 2007 16:24:18 GMT

Ooh, I forgot to mention on this journal! For yuletide this year I wrote The Longed-For Moment (History Boys, Posner/Dakin, R)

Warnings: None (see policy)

"Sex with Dakin," Posner said with a worldly air, "was like my Bar Mitzvah."

===

I'm not doing the end of year review questionnaire, because And Other Animals is my best, favourite and most-loved story ever, which made for a very boring set of answers. But I have just spent the last ten minutes procrastinating my way through the favourite lines meme:

Favourite lines from my 2006 stories

Discworld / Doctor Who (10th Doctor)

Representations and Characters (gen)

There were also names for people who dressed like that and tried to fool wizards with Headological Paper. Croaky the Frog leapt to mind.

As Seen From Above (Rose/Cheri)

Cheri put a hand to her face. She could still feel the graceful curve Rose's finger had swept out.

Hitchhiker's Guide

And Other Animals (Ford/Arthur -- third in the Aliens Make Ford and Arthur Have Sex series)

I'm torn between

Arthur doubted they'd inherited their credulity from Ford. This thought bothered him.

and

"So," Arthur said, thinking hard, "perhaps we could just shave them."

The Gladiator's Honour (Ford/Arthur -- challenges_past Harlequin challenge)

Arthur frowned. Dimly, it occurred to him that anyone prepared to spend fifteen minutes trying to seduce a man chained to a wall might have even bigger problems than being kidnapped from his home planet and sold into slavery. "Chin up?" he suggested awkwardly. "I'm sure it's not that bad."

Stargate Atlantis

An Introduction To The Characters Of Finite Groups (McKay/Sheppard)

"Yes, yes, cute and deadly, just like me." Everyone looks at Rodney. "What?"

Sex With Your Drugged Team-Leader: Is It Really Such A Bad Idea? (McKay/Sheppard)

Ooh, instead of giving you my favourite line, I'm going to give you a line I had to cut for being too similar to one in Them Other Boys Don't Know How To Act by eleveninches. (I'm pretty sure I came up with my version on my own, but I didn't like to leave it in.)

"I think I don't care." Zelenka glared at him. "I also think those are my fries."

Rodney's hand paused midway to Zelenka's plate. "He took mine!"

Zelenka pushed his glasses up. "Thank God he did not take your virtue, too."

Second Prime (McKay/Sheppard/Zelenka)

"We do," says Rodney, lifting his chin as if he is trying to persuade Dr Weir to allow him to juggle ZPMs for fun. I won't drop them, his eyes promise. It'll be awesome. It is strangely convincing.

Torchwood / How I Met Your Mother

Free Beer (Barney/Captain Jack)

One high-five later, Barney continued.

The History Boys

The Longed-For Moment (Posner/Dakin -- yuletide)

Posner went to get another round in, leaving his past self sitting at Dakin's desk, his trousers round his ankles and his cock up in the air.

How I Met Your Mother / Torchwood: Free Beer (Barney/Captain Jack)

imperfectcircle — Wed, 06 Dec 2006 11:34:36 GMT

I got into How I Met Your Mother thanks entirely to this clip (YouTube) of the actors on a chat show, in which two of them (Neil Patrick Harris and Jason Segel -- Barney and Marshall) sing The Confrontation from Les Miz.

If you need further convincing that Barney is the awesomest awesome who ever suited up, YouTube also handily provides a one and a half minute summary of The Essential Barney (all clips taken from the first few episodes, I think).

I defy you to watch both of the above and not think Barney deserves some Captain Jack Harkness. So:

Title: Free Beer
Pairing: Barney/Captain Jack
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: ~1800
Continuity: How I Met Your Mother: Set early/mid season one. No spoilers. Doctor Who / Torchwood: Set before season one of TW. Mild concept spoilers; no plot spoilers.
Warnings: None (see policy)
Summary: "It's like Barney has a good twin," Robin whispered. "A good, hot twin."

Please click here to read Free Beer on AO3.

SGA: Second Prime (McKay/Sheppard/Zelenka)

imperfectcircle — Thu, 05 Oct 2006 12:14:34 GMT

Title: Second Prime
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard/Zelenka
Rating: R
Notes: This is self-indulgent birthday fic. (Happy birthday to me!) Many thanks to miscellanny for the quick'n'dirty beta.
Warnings: None (see policy)

Summary: Radek shrugs again. "It is true. Driven insensible by lust for you, Rodney, I am now trying to break the electronics. Also your team leader wishes to sleep with both of us. Please, don't judge us." (Set late Season One.)

Please click here to read Second Prime on AO3.

Taking fic requests (open until at least Thursday 5th October)

imperfectcircle — Mon, 02 Oct 2006 19:50:50 GMT

My current major WIP is stalled until I work out how crazy John Sheppard is. This may take some time.

So:

If anyone would like to drop a request for a ficlet then there's a slim chance I'll answer it sometime this year.

Most likely to be answered (though feel free to request other stuff): Hitchhiker's Guide; Stargate Atlantis; something to do with Ivan Vorpatril and/or Simon Illyan.