More Snippets

[sweetprince]

Midterms are over for me, thank god! As has become fashionable in Generation Kill fandom, I have decided to do a snippet post. You are welcome to post a picture for any fandom I write in (SPN, Generation Kill, RPF, Glee, Never Back Down) and I will respond with fic. The two fics I have in the works are frightening me, but I am in a mood to write.

amberlynne has been threatening me with 17 requests for more Model!AU, so come participate so I'm not just writing about Brad and Nate prancing about on the runway.

ETA: Oh, song of the day, "One Pure Thought" by Hot Chip, for you dirty-minded girls out there.


-Brad owning a winery for amberlynne
-Ray's Wedding for amberlynne
-Q-Tip Turning Up on Nate's Porch for aboutademongirl
-Nate The Romance Novelist for amberlynne and really, myself.
-Nate the Archeologist, Brad the wild mountainman for amberlynne
-ASkar's epic love with Batman for memphis86. Every time I type that, I laugh.
-Glee: Brokeback The Musical for memphis86
-Model!Au: The first photoshoot after they fuck for amberlynne
-Generation Kill Victorian!Au for trolleys
-Model!AU: Brad finds school!Nate irresistable for amberlynne
-Brad Visiting Nate At Harvard for soul_cake_duck
-Alex taking Stark back to Sweden for amberlynne

Comments

[amberlynne.livejournal.com]

so I'm not just writing about Brad and Nate prancing about on the runway

I STILL DO NOT SEE HOW THIS WOULD BE A BAD THING? Except for how you said you would break them up or bring the end of days. :D

Okay, I'll just go easy on you with this gif I found yesterday. It doesn't even have to be models!AU!

[dark-reaction.livejournal.com]

I'm sorry you want me to write something about that? I CAN'T STOP STARING.

[dev-earl.livejournal.com]

MOAR MODEL!AU PLEASE. *g*

But, also, if you want:

(http://s21.photobucket.com/albums/b254/joshleedev/?action=view&current=000rc44c.jpg) (http://s21.photobucket.com/albums/b254/joshleedev/?action=view&current=000rf0hr.jpg)

Let's just pretend that it's one picture. :P

[dark-reaction.livejournal.com]

They're really hungover. Jared doesn't remember anything that happened last night, the first part where his memory starts up again is puking in the toilet this morning, but he doesn't know how he got himself there.

Jensen was in no better condition. He'd found him, asleep in Jared's living room in only a shirt and no pants. Jesus, what had they gotten up to last night?

"I miss living here," Jensen had slurred when Jared attempted to wake him up.

"That's fine, dude, but put some pants on," Jared said, massaging at his own temple.

Now they're at the airport, waiting for their flight back to L.A. for some promotional stuff, the neon lighting killer and the coffee terrible. A girl reading a copy of Us Weekly freaks out when she sees them. Jared expects her demand autographs and pictures, but she blushes and runs in the opposite direction. This happens for a solid twenty minutes before they have to get on their flight.

When they exit the airport in L.A. TMZ is on them in a second. "How did it feel to finally be honest about your love?"

"Gay rumors have been swirling about you two for years, why decide to come out now?"

Jared would think it was an elaborate joke that Chad set up, only he's got a horrible gap in his memory and a pantsless Jensen in his house this morning. His head still hurts and he just stares at them. Jensen actually turns white and Jared thinks he's going to die.

Jared fights his way through the press and into a cab, tugging Jensen by his arm.

Jesus, whatever they did last night, they probably didn't mean. It was probably all a drunken joke. But they've just gone and told the world what they've thought all along. They're so fucked.

Jensen quietly gets on the phone with someone and has a short hurried conversation. Jared thinks it's probably damage control, but he sounds way too clipped to be talking to Danneel. Finally, Jensen hangs up.

He turns to Jared, a grave expression on his face. "That was the network, they're telling us for as long as we're on the show, we have to sell it."

[aboutademongirl.livejournal.com]

YES. A SNIPPET POST. *cheers* Ahem. Sorry, couldn't help myself:

Evan Coming Out

[dark-reaction.livejournal.com]

Let me just start off by saying I hope this is acceptable.



Evan looks surprisingly fay without his do-rag. Like a little boy a mother has shoved into his Sunday suit for mass. He stands in the darkness of Nate's unlit porch, tie-less, looking lost.

Nate who has to be up in three hours takes one look at his face and sighs. "Do you wanna come in?"

He sets Evan up in the kitchen, glass of milk, Brad's box of 'Nilla wafers. Evan doesn't say anything, he munches on a few 'Nilla wafers quietly, head bowed, eyelashes dark crescents against his cheek. Nate pulls out a chair and sits down across from him.

"Stafford, what happened?"

He doesn't understand any of this. How Evan got here to D.C., what he's doing in that tailored suit. Evan doesn't say anything. Brad walks into the kitchen, dressed only in a pair of flimsy pajama pants. He scratches lightly at the trail of hair disappearing into his waistband and says to Evan, "Nate should be asleep." He shoots Nate a mildly disapproving look and then drinks straight out of the milk carton Nate left on the kitchen table.

Evan stares. He tugs on the cuffs of his shirt peeking out underneath his jacket. Brad turns around to shoot him a sharp look, stowing the milk back in the fridge. "Were you getting married today?"

Evan visibly swallows, but he holds Brad's gaze. Nate stares at Brad and then turns back to Evan. "Am I missing something?"

Brad leans back against the fridge and crosses his arms, looking like he's content to wait for Evan to speak. Nate who has no idea what's going on just wants it to be over already.

"Stafford, what ever it is, you know you can tell me?" He feels like he should reach out and pat Evan's head, but he really doubts anybody in the room will appreciate that.

Evan takes a deep breath, he diverts his gaze to Nate. "I think I might be a...a fag."

[amberlynne.livejournal.com]

[dark-reaction.livejournal.com]

That is so ridiculous I don't have words.

[memphis86.livejournal.com]

(plus ASkars)

OR, something based on this icon:

ASkars's epic love with Batman

[dark-reaction.livejournal.com]

The first time Bruce Wayne met Alex it was at a society function. He’d broken two ribs and the second and third metatarsals on his left hand two days before. He was in a horrible mood, possibly deepened by a fever headache, but Alfred insisted he had to attend. So he’d put on the new John Varvatos suit they’d had tailored to fit him and that he secretly thought made his neck look big, hopped in a smashing red Tesla Roadster he’d bought, because if Alfred wouldn’t let him drive around in a Prius he could certainly have in the next best thing, and grinned like his face had been botoxed that way.

“Oh you really must meet Alexander!” Sabina, the hostess was telling him. “He’s an actor, you know, on that HBO show True Blood. Man’s an absolute laugh riot. Don’t know how I ever persuaded him to come.”

Bruce kind of agreed with the later statement, but his lips curled up sweetly and he said some flattering comment he’d be throwing up for days over. He was absolutely sure he did not want to meet Alexander. He never wanted to meet people at these events. The last person he’d wanted to meet at these events had half his face burnt off and then went mad. That seemed to happen a lot. He tried not to sigh as she led him over to a man holding court in the corner.

He was very tall, this Alexander. Bruce did not like having to look up to meet his eyes. He was also quite drunk. Charmingly drunk, Sabina would probably say. Bruce just saw it as uncontrollable excess. But he unfurled the smile and held out his hand. “It’s a pleasure,” he said shaking Alexander’s hand.

“And you Mr. Wayne, I’ve heard quite a lot,” he replied. His accent barely tinged the corner of his words, but Bruce who didn’t know anything about him beyond the True Blood business, was quite sure he was Scandinavian.

Sabina left him them to go talk to somebody else and a bottle-blonde debutante barely out of her teens waltzed up, flirting wickedly with Alexander and batting her eyelashes at Bruce. Bruce did his best to be charming and at the first available moment turned slightly to watch the crowd, which as a testament to how boring the conversation was, was far more interesting than the current gossip in Los Angeles. After a moment jailbait debutante swept off to bother somebody else and Alexander turned to him.

“You don’t like parties, do you?” It was more of observation than a question.

Bruce blinked and made a face. “Please, what makes you say that?”

Alexander snorted, took another sip of his wine and said, “That tie makes your neck look big.” Bruce arched a brow. Alexander smiled back, one half of his mouth quirking up higher than the rest. “But the rest is pretty good.”

This time it was Bruce’s turn to snort. “I hope you have a lovely night.”

Alex said with a grin around a mouthful of wine, “Oh, I shall.”

Bruce turned away and rolled his eyes. He resolved to feign deafness the next time he came to Sabina’s parties, surely a trap and skeet accident could be engineered. Ugh, if only Bruce Wayne weren’t in his own small pathetic way necessary. Sure that he would never see Alexander again, he didn’t think anymore about him.

That was his first mistake.

*

Expect Brokeback the Musical tomorrow, along with more of ASkars/Batman. Saying that pairing aloud is actually one of my chief pleasures right now.

MODELS AU Prompt #1

[amberlynne.livejournal.com]

Since my dad is on his way, I am going to put down some prompts for you to pick up at your leisure over the next few days:

The First Photo Shoot After Their First Fuck

Re: MODELS AU Prompt #1

[dark-reaction.livejournal.com]

Oh my goodness. You weren't kidding about seventeen!

MODELS AU Prompt #2

[amberlynne.livejournal.com]

Brad Finds School!Nate Irresistible

Re: MODELS AU Prompt #2

[dark-reaction.livejournal.com]

Nate refused to give up the NoLiTa apartment. He refused to go to NYU—“do I look like some fucking hipster?”—or Columbia. He says you don’t need to move with me when out of the seven schools that accepted him, he chooses Amherst. There are times when Brad honestly wants to reconsider. It’s fucking cold in Massachusetts, and they have to fly in Hartford’s Bradley airport and then drive an hour whenever they come back from a photoshoot, and retarded undergrads are retarded. Especially the freshman. But then Brad gets back from two weeks in Majorca getting oil rubbed all over him and sand up his ass to find Nate sitting on their Restoration Hardware sofa in pajamas and a pair of geek chic glasses typing furiously at some paper he’s got due in twenty-four hours and Brad is really glad he said hell to the fucking no to long distance.

“I brought dinner,” he says, bending down to kiss Nate who manages to wickedly slide his tongue along the crease of Brad’s lips without a stutter in his typing. “Wendy’s, special treat,” he says and grins, licking Kiehl’s off his bottom lip. The winter dryness gets to Nate up here. He smears lipbalm on constantly and asks Brad to rub him down with Lubriderm in the hard to reach places like the middle of his back.

“Mmhmm,” Nate replies, distracted. He aggressively hits the spacebar and Brad bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Later they’ll have time for other things when Nate’s sent off the paper, put his books and papers away, and eaten the fast food Brad got them, because bugging Nate to cook when he had an assignment was like asking him to pry out one of his own teeth. Brad will tie Nate’s wrists to the bed, and Nate won’t even bother to take his glasses off. He’ll pull and struggle at the knots that Brad’s made, and he’ll moan with every touch of Brad’s mouth to his skin like the slutty school boy he is.

He’ll tell Brad he can take it harder and faster and he’ll get vicious, find a way to fight against his bonds and wrap his fingers against the rungs of the headboard Brad ordered custom. He’ll growl, “Are you tired? Is this all you’ve got?” And Brad will slow everything down, slide his dick out so that only the head is holding Nate open. He’ll look down at Nate and share breath with him, until he begs, and whatever fear he has over his damn ten page paper melts away. He’ll kiss Brad, and tighten his legs around Brad’s hips, not to spur him on, but just to say ‘I’m here.’ And Brad’s heart will fly up into his throat, and he’ll forget why he hates Amherst.

But that’s all later. For now, he’ll settle with plying Nate with cheeseburgers and a few subtle reminders to breathe, the papers going to be fine.

MODELS AU Prompt #3

[amberlynne.livejournal.com]

Will Walt Ever Believe Ray is Truly Warm For His Hot Model Form?

[hebrew-hernia.livejournal.com]

amberlynne sent me here.



THAT IS ALL.

[dark-reaction.livejournal.com]

Oooops. Um, I'm a Kurt/Puck slasher. Sorry?

JOHN WINCHESTER IS A SHITTY FATHER

[thechiapet.livejournal.com]

(http://es.tinypic.com)

ALSO HE CAN'T SPELL

GO

Re: JOHN WINCHESTER IS A SHITTY FATHER

[dark-reaction.livejournal.com]

AFTER YEARS OF CHASING DEMONS HE DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO SPELL SULFUR? SERIOUSLY?
ETA: I think you might have written that story already. GIMME A PROMPT FOR A PAIRING. I WANT TO WRITE WACKY AUS.

[soul_cake_duck]

Alas, I have no pictures to give, but if you want to write something about Brad visiting Nate while he was at Harvard, that would be nice :)

[dark-reaction.livejournal.com]

He doesn’t tell Nate he’s coming, and one thing he’s learned about Nate is that he’s never in his apartment. He’s sharing it with a biomedical engineer that Brad finds both asocial and hilarious and for whatever reason they’re both allergic to the place. If Nate isn’t in the library, than he’s at a coffee shop, if he’s not at a coffee shop, then he’s TAing, if he’s not at any of those places it’s office hours—either a professor’s or his own for the snotnose undergrads he has to deal with.

But Brad’s always had an unerring compass when it comes to Nate, so when his taxi drops him off at Nate’s apartment he knows he’s not going to find Nate in any of those places. He lets himself in with the key that the asocial biomedical engineer keeps above the sill on the doorway, deposits his stuff in Nate’s bedroom which looks like a showroom at the furniture store, and walks right back out again.

He finds Nate at the blacktop basketball courts three blocks away, playing half-court with a couple of guys. It’s cold enough that their breath shows on the air, but they've all worked up a sweat. Nate's longish hair falls into his eyes, but he pushes it roughly away before accepting a pass. A player on Nate’s team sets a screen and Nate goes in for a layup that sinks through the hoop perfectly. His team whoops in exultation, and Nate turns around, tugging his sweat-damp shirt away from his chest and says, “How long have you been standing there?”

All the other guys turn to face Brad and he grins back, digging his hands into his pockets. “Not long. Buy you a cup of coffee?”

Nate shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “That’s my cue, gentleman.” He pats a few backs and jogs off the courts while the other players groan at the sudden unevenness of the teams.

“You think you’re a sneaky bastard showing up here without telling me,” Nate says, giving him a kiss when they’re out of sight under the shade of a tree rapidly changing colors. Brad takes a moment to pull him in and palm Nate’s perfect ass, something he’s been thinking about for months now.

“Pretty much,” he says. It comes out as a low rumble, like his voice has gotten lost somewhere coming out of his throat.

Nate nuzzles his neck, just at his jawline. “But you’re not, because you showed me how to hack into your credit card statements.” His tongue comes out flicker quick, sliding across Brad’s pulse, before he pulls away altogether. “I saw you bought the tickets weeks ago.”

[setissma.livejournal.com]

I think you need to write me Glee genderswap, because I am a bad person. I mean, I am a fan of Rachel, Finn, Quinn, and Puck, so any combination or non-combination or whatever there would be A+. <3!

[setissma.livejournal.com]

GOD I HATE MY LIFE I HAVE TO FIND A PHOTO NOW? You are so difficult.

ETA: You know what, I boycott this whole photo thing. I'm going to be avant garde and just torture you. Because I love you. But I WILL provide a photo of a flu-curing baby bunny.

[xtinethepirate.livejournal.com]

Because every meme needs MOAR COWBELL CRACK. :D I tried to find the pic in my icon, but this one is close enough. Erm. Have fun? *giggle*



(what? I miss the YED and John. *shifty*)

[dark-reaction.livejournal.com]

Oh my god. WHY IS EVERYBODY TORTURING ME? I ask for prompts, and Mariel submits John's inability to spell, Tai gives me a picture of an adorable bunny rabbit, Abi gives me Justice Blackmun, and you give John/YED! Okay, could you at least dig up a picture of Jude Law or something so I can write something sexy HERE!

SPN

[azephirin.livejournal.com]

Re: SPN

[dark-reaction.livejournal.com]

That is not a prompt you h0r! What am I supposed to do with that? Have Sam bow at his feet until Dean gets jealous and cries more? No good.

[aboutademongirl.livejournal.com]

Because I couldn't decide (focus on the two on the left, please?)

[dark-reaction.livejournal.com]

Arg. I don't write Castiel/Misha. I feel like I should've put better caveats up. Sorry!

[loolookitty.livejournal.com]

I totally have a pretty Sam .gif I almost posted (it's on my journal page) but it's from previews and some might find spoilery, and wouldn't want to spoil anyone who has not seen the preview. I want fic for this so bad....

[dark-reaction.livejournal.com]

I haven't even seen the last two episodes, so yeah, maybe that would not be a good idea. Is there anything else you want?

prompt!

[amberlynne.livejournal.com]

Alex takes Stark to a soccer game in Sweden.

Re: prompt!

[dark-reaction.livejournal.com]

Stark doesn’t know a lot about soccer. In fact he knows next to nothing about the league standings other than Manchester United is like soccer’s version of the Lakers and David Beckham does really hot underwear ads when he’s not kicking the ball around. Whenever Alex is with another fan, the talk quickly devolves into hopeless jargon and frustrating metaphor and whenever Stark merely suggests he doesn’t understand what’s going on, Alex gets that flat-eyed look of his that frankly Stark finds more frightening than his great aunt who smelled of mothballs and used to pinch his bottom. Alex seemingly knows everything about baseball, which, he does live here. But listening to him talk about Barry Zito is still frustrating when Stark knows nothing.

Two weeks ago, after a great blowjob, mindblowing sex, and a particularly vicious bite that Stark left in Alex’s shoulder, Alex stroked down his side and said, “Come home with me.”

Stark had stared at him in the dark, taking in Alex’s unreadable stone-faced expression that meant he really cared how Stark was going to answer. He’d breathed for a few seconds and then tightened his fingers around Alex’s wrist.

“Yes.”

But that means Alex’s crazy friends. And football games. He knows that Alex is planning to drag him to at least one Hammarby game and possibly to Djurgården, in Ostermalm to see Elfsborg kick the shit out of them. Or so Alex has promised. And Stark is really good at getting people to like him, but part of the secret to that is being incredibly prepared. He will not be like the girlfriend introduced into the men’s Monday night football games only to require them to explain everything. That girlfriend sucks.

The next time he meets up with Hugh for coffee in the village he asks for a crash course. Hugh thinks for a minute, coughs, and says, “Well, the Swedish league’s admirable in that they can hang on to their players, but their players are all for shit so it hardly matters. The five players they do have that know which direction to run down the pitch all play for other leagues.”

“I can’t say that to him,” Stark says, taking a bracing swallow of his black coffee.

Hugh ordered a cappuccino and he swirls his spoon around in the foam before saying, “American’s don’t understand coffee. Always running around with their to-go cups. I would die for some biscuits.” Stark raises his hands and looks at him with a mournful expression. “Right, so, Hammarby, that’s his team.” Stark nods and Hugh continues. “They’re a working class team, not bad, no PSV—” he stops at Stark’s blank look, “Dutch team, used to be a factory squad. You know what? Never mind. Hammarby is ranked in the middle somewhere, but their rival, Djurgården, is even more shit than they are, so they’re at the bottom.”

Stark wonders if he should be taking notes.

“The only Swedish team worth paying attention to is Kalmar. They’ve got a couple of Brazilians playing for them, so they’re not actually embarrassing.”

Stark glares at him.

Hugh takes another sip of his coffee and rolls his eyes. “I’m sorry, think of it this way, the way you feel about Mexicans playing basketball, that’s how I feel about Swedes playing football.”

“You’re terrible. Really terrible,” Stark replies. “I was going to pay for your coffee when the bill came, but now you’re on your own.”

Hugh laughs. “You asked, grasshopper. Now, the thing you need to understand about football rivalries is that they make your silly Eagles/Cowboys and Lakers/Celtics throw downs look like pillow fights at a little girl’s slumber party.”

“Right, rioting and that stuff,” Stark says and pushes his cup forward to be refilled when the waitress comes by.

“No, no, my naïve friend, that’s sheer bonhomie right there,” Hugh says and waves his hand, “Let me tell you a story. Have you heard of Fiorentina?”

“No?”

one more model!AU prompt :D

[amberlynne.livejournal.com]

Does Brad ever find out the answer to the most important question? (http://www.pineapplejuice.com/pineapple-juice-semen-myth.html)

Re: one more model!AU prompt :D

[dark-reaction.livejournal.com]

Oh man, that article makes me never want to go near a burger again, BUT I LOVE THEM SO. My Dutch grandparents say when they visit my mother in San Francisco that everybody smells like Garlic, so I guess my own anecdotal evidence supports it.

[madgebettany.livejournal.com]

Damn! That was hot--and educational. I swear you and nightanddaze are converting me to RPS. Thanks.

[madgebettany.livejournal.com]

Crap! this was supposed to be in response to the soccer story.

[prysmicdork.livejournal.com]

If you're still taking prompts, Stark and Alex keeping in touch, doing the long distance thing while they're off doing separate projects (uh, I have no idea of their timelines, thus vagueness!) Wooing with random soccer trivia?

[dark-reaction.livejournal.com]

The next couple of days are going to be complicated for me, but I can certainly try.

[laura-iskra.livejournal.com]

this post is the best thing after bread and nutella!

and since I had no idea this awesomeness was happening and I love you accuracy with all things football, I'm friending you, hope you don't mind!

[dark-reaction.livejournal.com]

Hahaha, I'm glad you didn't think I was wildly inaccurate. Do you root for AC Milan? And friend away. Friends are cool.

[delurker.livejournal.com]

Yay snippets! I enjoyed reading these.