From makebelievearchive at gmail.com Wed Mar 17 19:49:57 2010 From: makebelievearchive at gmail.com (makebelieve archive) Date: Wed, 17 Mar 2010 21:49:57 -0500 Subject: [Makebelieve] Fic: All Out Of Love 1 - Dr Who/Primeval/Torchwood - many pairings Message-ID: All Out Of Love by PEJA Fandom: Doctor Who, Torchwood, Primeval Rating: FRM Pairings: 1. Jack/Alonso Frame (John Barrowman/Russell Tovey) 2. James Harper/Alonso Frame (John Barrowman/Russell Tovey) 3. Jack/Ianto (John Barrowman/Gareth David-Lloyd) 4. Jack/Alonso/James Harper (John Barrowman/Russell Tovey/John Barrowman) 5. Jack/Ianto/Stephen Hart (John Barrowman/Gareth David-Lloyd/James Murray) 6. implied Nick Cutter/Stephen Hart (Douglas Henshall/James Murray) 7. implied Stephen Hart/Helen Cutter (James Murrray/Juliet Aubrey) 8. implied Nick Cutter/Helen Cutter (Douglas Henshall/Juliet Aubrey 9. Jack/James Harper (John Barrowman/John Barrrowman) Characters: 1. Eleven (Matt Smith), 2. Connor Temple (Andrew Lee Potts) Summary: Someone has played havoc with the time lines and the doctor must fix things before its all gone. Warning: AUish, fix-it fic, Jack does Jack (james) Genre: slash, implied hetero Chapter number if WIP: Part 1 Prompt: none General thanks to all of you folks who are requesting short fics and improvs in the various fandoms. You're keeping the words flowing. Permission to archive to WWOMB: Y Disclaimer. Doctor Who/Torchwood/Primeval do not belong to me. no money made in this Acknowledgments/Notes: There is a scene which Jack and his other personality (James) indulge in sexual play. Not sure if this would be incest, masturbation or something else. Whatcha thnk? Naked accept for the linen loincloth covering his masculine modesty, his hands secured with rough hemp rope behind his back, a scruffy and unkempt, far from the jaunty Jack Harkness of the past, mounted the steep bank of stairs with a regal pride that denied any natural fear. But then, why would he fear what he had worked so hard to win. Death was his desired prize. The darkness that allowed him to forget for a time waiting in each sought death was the only thing he lived for now. Without Ianto he had nothing, no one left to live for. His only joy in life was the executioner's platform. Mounting the stairs to the platform one thousand feet above the alien landscape filled him with a sensual ecstasy, his crowning glory at the end of a very good day. For a while, just a while, he could stop seeing Ianto's teary face as he gasped his last, lingering breath, could stop hearing Stephen's screams as his mind was torn asunder from the piercing wave-lengths that destroyed the 456. For a while, he could stop being. Flanked by the executioner's guard, Jack finally stood on the seat of his death. His diamond hard blue gaze slid lazily down, down, down the glittering path of the razor sharp blade. "Beautiful," He breathed, reverence coloring this one word. How many had this blade claimed before him? Thousands? Tens of thousands? He tilted his head, his lips forming an adorable pout. He nodded his approval. Death would be quick. Clean. One more life for the blade. He took a deep breath as the image of Ianto appeared, hovering over the gleaming blade. "I love you, Jack," The phantom illusion spoke in his mind. Tipping his chin arrogantly toward the executioner, Jack laughed dryly, drawing a murmur from the crowd gathered below. "What are we waiting for, then?" He dropped to his knees, straddling the thirsty blade with the casual flourish of a madman. "Let's get this over with." He slowly leaned forward, "Ianto...." His weight tipped the balance of the platform, dropping him against the blade. The kiss of the sharpened steel bite deeply at the first contact, then caught for a brief moment in resistant bone before his body succumb to the pull of gravity, sliding much like a child on a slide, only this brutal slide quickly ate through flesh and muscle and bone until two halves fell lifeless in the dust. And if Jack had imagined the sweet herald of a time lord as the darkness claimed him yet one more time, would it come as any surprise? The Time Lord....Rose Tyler....The TARDIS... just several more accusing faces in a nightmare line of accusing faces back through time unending to be swallowed for a time by the welcomed arms of death's darkness. ---- "Welcome back, Nick," Helen Cutter smirked from under her dark bangs. "Back?" Nick Cutter swiped at the sheen of sweat breaking over his upper lip and rose from behind his desk. Last thing he remembered was ...Oh God, Stephen, stepping into the room of carnivorous prehistoric beasts. He had a niggling feeling he should remember more, but.... "Back from where?" Smiling that secret smile that never failed to make Nick's skin creep up into a tight clench at the back of his neck, Helen held her arm out in his direction rigidly, her index pointed like firing a gun and mouthed a silent "bang." Something evil tickled at the back of his memory but then was gone as suddenly as it ghosted through. He shook his head sadly. "You really are quite insane, you know that, don't you Helen?" Chuckling softly, she shrugged, "Still killed you, Nick." Insanity glittered in her dark eyes as she met his eyes again. "Yeah. I did, ya know? Killed you and brought you back again. I..." She thumped her chest with her fist. "Me. I hold the power of life and death in my hands thanks to the rift. I'm god, Nick. Thanks to the rift, I'm God. I can build and rebuild history until it's perfect." A dreamy look clouded her eyes. "Perfect..." "You need to stop, Helen." "Stop?" she laughed wildly. "Why would I stop? I'm not done yet. I can see what's happened, and its bad. I need to stop that, Nick. Now...." A brightness sparkled in her eyes. "Stephen." She nodded again. "Yeah, Stephen needs to come back to fix all this. He can make you listen to reason. He always could." "No," Nick scrambled around his desk, trying to grab her but she was quick, sprinting over furniture like it wasn't there. A rift began to form in the room and she dashed toward it. "Wait, Helen..." he shouted. Too late. Helen tossed a smirk over her shoulder, and a jaunty salute then plunged into the shifting shimmer of silver white light. ___ The eerie warble of the TARDIS crushed the silence of sudden death following the very public execution of the out-worlder calling himself Captain Jack Harkness. The milling crowds, still locked in a disbelief of watching the man throw himself down the waiting blade, scattered at the first disembodied echo, fully expecting a full scale attack by more suicidal madmen seeking the blood of revenge on them. Eleven stepped out of the TARDIS with an air of confidence that his youthful appearance spurned. His narrowing gaze slid slowly over the fleeing crowds, watchful until the scattering folk had vanished like a bad memory. He moved forward, pausing only long enough to glance back over his shoulder as Alonso Frame stepped out of the TARDIS and hurried forward. "I told you to wait." "I had to see..." Alonso began, his words stuttering to a stop as his gaze fell on Jack's body lying by the blood glistening hundred foot high blade. "Oh, my God..." He wavered on suddenly weak legs. "Oh, God, Jack, no....Noooooo...." Eleven caught him as his knees gave out, supporting him, easing him to the ground. "It'll be all right. Do you hear me, Alonso? It' all right." "How?" Alonso looked at him through streaming tears. "How can Jack come back from that? He's been sliced in ha...ha...Oh, God...." Eleven knelt down gathering Alonso in his arms and rocking him, cooing nonsense words of comfort in his ear. Alonso clung to him, his fingers digging into his shoulders like eagle's talons until his tears ran out. Holding Alonso tight as his body shuddered out his grief, Eleven caressed his back. "Jack will be all right, Alonso . Jack is always all right. You know that. You've been with him long enough to know he always comes back." "How?" Alonso rasped into Eleven's chest. "How can anyone live...like that?" He shuddered again, falling under a fresh wave of silent tears. "This isn't how its supposed to happen" Eleven thought aloud. "Someone..Something...is corrupting the time lines." Alonso gazed at him through tear stained eyes. "Like when you ...died?" "Regenerated, yes," Eleven spoke absently, his mind racing back to the moments he and Harold Saxton, well, The Master, if the truth be told, his beloved younger brother....fought back the rebirth of the Time Lords. Back to... "Not them, though. They might have been a part of it, but this...this is something different. Something much more dangerous." ---- Jack slowly became self-aware, but with a cloying feeling of something being wrong. Very wrong. There was a creeping feeling on his right side, and he could only see from his left eye. He fumbled around on the ground trying to get his legs under him, but only one leg moved in the blood-saturated dirt. Only his left hand moved, his fingers clawing at the soft sandy soil. He shifted his head around and his eyes...eye...widened in horror as memories of his death flooded what was left of his brain. There was something breath-takingly chilling about watching bone, white and gleaming in its virginal creation, sprouting out from a cleaved body to form the missing half. His mouth opened, screaming a silent banshee cry into an even darker silence. And suddenly he was not alone. Alonso knelt at his side, reaching for him. "Don't touch him." Jack shifted his head, staring up at the young stranger from his single eye. His lips parted, forming the left half of a silent question. "Doctor, what's happening to him?" Doctor? His doctor? Jack's single eye narrowed on the too young man with the ash brown hair. Drawing a breath through what was left of his throat by some rule that only applied to men of Jack's unique qualities, he struggled to rise up on his side. His body teetered on his bent arm. He reached out with a skeletal limb to steady himself, staring at the sinewed muscle that was thickening from the bone. No pain yet, just that creepy feeling that wasn't an actual sensation, but more a... phantom memory. He grinned at the internal observation, knowing the pain would hit when the nerve endings re-grew and reconnected with his brain. "Jack's doing what comes naturally, Alonso." Eleven said, hunkering down beside them. He offered a wane smile. "I told you he'd be all right." The niggling of reborn nerve endings rose a tinging in his brain. A tingle that quickly grew to searing agony. He threw his head back, his fingers curling in the blood clumped dirt and a scream erupted from him that would give a banshee competition. On the other side of the gore streaked blade, a second cry echoed in the air. Eleven bolted to his feet and scrambled around the blade. "Wha..." he squawked, sounding like the old Ten in that instant. "Jack?" He caught Alonso's questioning glance. "Alonso...." he caught the human's wide-eyed stare. "There are two of them." "T---'Two?" Alonso's voice held a curious blend of amazement and dread in that single word. Jack's screams cut short suddenly. The Jack in Alonso's arms, at least, stopped screaming. The man on the other side of the execution blade continued to scream. Alonso's Jack sprawled listlessly on the gore smeared ground, bright eyes staring sightlessly at the sky. "Jack?" Alonso brushed a stray lock of hair off Jack's forehead. "Jack, are you all right?" Shuddering out a long, stuttering breath, Jack forced his eyes to focus on Alonso's anxious features. "I'm good." He flashed a shaky, but oh, so very cocky, empty smile and let Alonso guide him to a sitting position. Alonso's arm stayed around him a moment longer, steadying him. Jack's smile warmed, gaining strength. He turned into Alonso's broad chest and cradled his cheek in one large palm, drawing the younger man to him, claiming his lips in a kiss that began softly, only to quickly race to flaming passion. ----- Two Jack's. Oh, this was bad. This was very, very bad. Eleven gave himself a teeth-rattling shake, forcing his Time Lord oriented sense of continuum to accept what his eyes told him. His mind rebelled against the reality. "We should leave," he muttered, raking an unsteady hand through ash brown hair. "We should really leave now." Jack's screams died as suddenly as they had begun. He rolled into a fetal curl, rocking back and forth in lonely self-comfort until some instinct warned him he was being watched. He stilled for a long moment, then turned to look at Eleven. "Hello, Jack." Drawing a thoughtful breath, his sapphire gaze locked on Eleven's. Hope blazed in those amazing windows to his soul for an instant before he allowed a mocking, brittle laugh. His darkening gaze swung away and he shoved himself into a swaying seated position in the blood and gore of his death. "Doctor?" Eleven approached him slowly, as if he were a wild creature in danger of bolting. "How have you been, Jack?" Jack snorted, shaking his head, his haunted gaze roaming slowly over the Time Lord. "You had some work done, then?" "You might say that." Eleven threw his arms wide and tip-toed through a slow spin. "Like?" Jack winced, letting his gaze drop. "Sure." "How long, Jack?" Eleven asked softly, touching Jack's shoulder. "Hmmm?" He diverted himself by scratching at the fast drying blood on his arm with a glossy fingernail. "How long is this going to go on?" Jack shrugged. His soft laugh whispered in the arid air as he remembered how he'd once asked that same question of Owen. "Can't die, Doc. Remember?" he murmured. "And I can't forget him, either." His lips curled into a tight grimace. "I never told him I love him." His gaze blazed with grief. "I was...afraid." He scratched the dried blood clinging to his thigh, grimacing. "Must look a sight." "Jack, Eleven caught his arm in a gentle grasp, earning himself a heated scowl. The anger flared nova bright, then dimmed. "Jack, let's get you up and see what we can do about cleaning you up a bit." Jack allowed himself to be hoisted to his feet, then froze as Alonzo and the other Jack rounded the blade. "No...." The other Jack's gaze darted over the party of men, his own amazement widening his eyes. "Oh, my..." ----- The sight of two Jack Harkness' facing each other is would be a sensual delight. The sight of that same two men facing off wearing only a fine coating of blood and gore over rippling, sculpted muscle is enough to send lust and horror into overdrive. Jack warily approached Jack, each matching the other step by disbelieving step. Mirrored hands lifted to cup identical cheeks. "Are you real?" The words were spoken in stereo. "Oh, my God..." "Jack..." Eleven said softly. "Yeah," Two voices, the same voices responded. "Oh, for the love of....This is not going to work." Eleven's Jack managed to speak alone, but both Jack's were chuckling. "I'm open for suggestions," Alfonso's Jack allowed his brow to rise questioningly. "This is bad," Eleven muttered. "This is very, very bad." "Not helping, Doctor." Alfonso moved to his Jack's side. "Jack," He raised a hand as both men opened their mouths to respond. "Not you, Jack," he told Eleven's Jack. "You, Jack," He poked at his Jack's reddish brown stained chest. "You need a name." "I have a name." "You can't share it." Alfonso squeaked. "You share," his hand flew to encompass both of them. "Everything." A look of panic washed over his face. "I need you to have a different name." Spurred by Alfonso's strained emotions, both Jack's enfolded him in strong arms and bathed his face in kisses, sometimes sharing a testing kiss between them as well as their bodies heated with desire, until Alfonso found himself sandwiched in a masculine flood of passion. He was saved from his own needs and the needs of two powerfully sexual Jack's when Eleven scooped him out of the blazing embrace. His head spun under the influence of two Jack's desire, but Eleven's soft words of, "Not the time, gentlemen," managed to filter through. Just barely. Both Jack's groaned a protest as their prize escaped, but they dutifully directed their attention towards Eleven just the same. "Come on, Doctor," Alfonso's Jack grumbled. "You gave him to me....uhm, us. You can't take him back." "Name first," Eleven told them firmly. "Alfonso after." The Jack's exchanged lascivious grins, bringing a yelp of anxiety from deep inside Alfonso. "After we get you all cleaned up and away from here," Eleven added, casting a wary eye over the area. "You stink of death." "Name is easy," Eleven's Jack told them, sharing a conspiratorial grin with his mirror image. Alfonso's Jack stepped closer to Eleven, extending his hand. "Call me James Harper, Doctor." He chuckled softly as a dubious Eleven shook his out-stretched hand. "How'd ya like to hear about the time I spent with the original Jack Harkness?" "Right, so..." Eleven cast an anxious glance around, "First order of the day, we retreat back to the TARDIS and get you both cleaned up and clothed." Jack, the doctor's Jack, glanced at the newly named James Harper with a petulant scowl on his face. "I need to get back to the jails. Need my clothes." "Don't be ridiculous, Jack," Eleven laid a restraining hand on his arm. "I have an extensive wardrobe you can choose from." "I need to get those clothes." "Jack, for heaven's sake.." "Doctor," James interrupted. "The clothes. The coat...It was the last thing Ianto gave us." "I'll go," Alfonso said firmly. "You two go with the doctor. I'll be back with the clothes before you're done with your wash up." "I don't think...." "Doctor, I'll be fine. Jack kept me well out of his ...escapades. These people have no reason to harm me." Eleven scowled darkly, but relented. He could say nothing to prevent Alfonso from going. Not when Jack so desperately desired the clothes he had left behind. It didn't calm his nerves when James Harper pulled Alonso into his embrace and lavished a passionate parting kiss on his eager lips. Or, when breaking the kiss, James cupped Alonso's cheeks and whispered, "Be careful, my own. Nor did Alonso's departing, "Be back in a jiff," reassure him. Time was being played with by a careless hand. Danger lurked in the very air around them. He could smell it, and it stank of death and destruction. But he had no other choice than to let the young former midshipman scamper away down the twisting dirt alleyways and by-ways. He had two...Two, for the love of... Two Jack's to get to the safety of the waiting TARDIS. ----- Gleaming darkly in the soul-sucking heat of mid-day, the prison facility sat like a great hulking behemoth from 1700's Transylvania. The fortress had been built from the stone cliff face that protected this end of the town from intruders. The only natural light inside came from the tiny, narrow slits carved into the walls. Alonso crossed into the building. An over-whelming sadness claimed him as the gloom settled over him. He wanted to bolt back out into the sun. To feel the warmth that the prison had devoured by simply entering it. Jack had been incarcerated inside the grim world of chill shadow for two long weeks. Much more deeply inside than the reception area. How had he survived the desperation that clung to Alonso like tar, pulling him toward ...he dare not think. "Help ya?" the surly man behind the desk glanced up at Alonso from behind a newspaper. Alonso moved the last few steps toward the desk, saying, "I've come to collect Jack Harkness' belongings." The man's lip curled into a nasty sneer. "You related to that murdering bastard?" Alonso bristled under the accusation. Jack had been attacked leaving a club. In the ensuing battle, one of the attackers had been killed. Being a stranger in town, and the dead man being the mayor's nephew, Jack had been arrested without questioning. His trial had gone down even before anyone could be notified, and without Jack being present to defend himself. He hadn't had a chance. "Jack is...was my lover." Muddy brown eyes slithered over Alonso's body, leaving his with a distinctly soiled taste in his mouth. "Yeah?" the guard pushed away from the desk, just enough to open the bottom drawer. He pulled out a taped bag and plopped on to the desk. "You looking for a replacement ...lover, then?" He leered down his crooked nose. "I'm good protection on a rough night out." Alonso snatched up the parcel, glancing inside to make sure it contained the greatcoat and the rest of Jack's clothing. "Sorry, I...I'm leaving...town." He spun on his heel, making for the exit. "Heard there was some kind of ruckus over at the execution," The guards words stilled Alonso's flight. "Word is your...lover was more than willing to toss hisself down the blade." Alonso make a choking sound before managing to say, "Jack always was the impulsive sort." Straightening his spine, Alonso stalked from the prison, his eyes rooted forward. Always forward. With only one thought in mind. To get back to Jack. Both of him. ----- After the doctor got his charges back to the TARDIS he suggested they take themselves deeper into the unending craft, find rooms that appealed to them for the time they would be with him and get cleaned up. Maybe get some rest while he consulted TARDIS in an attempt to find out the extent of damage that had been done by someone's tampering with the time-lines. Jack and Jack-now-James exchanged playful grins and sprinted off down a path of twists and turns, and sometimes double backs, both shared memories of. The TARDIS was a magical place. A place where you had only to think of a desire and that wish would make itself available. And at that instant, both sides of Jack wanted nothing more than a hot shower with hours of hot, clear water. Jack and James easily found the spa-like bath house. They made a bee-line for the huge shower area. The water rained down on them at the same instant their feet hit the ceramic tiled shower booth, just the right temperature. James glanced around searching for cleanser. A glassed in door lifted, revealing the shower gel Jack had preferred back at the Hub. Sighed his pleasure he grabbed the masculine scented lather into his hands, then Jack's when he held out his palm for a share of the soap. The two men lathered up, arms stretching out for scrubbing, and two sets of fingers accidentally brushed against each other. Jack and James stilled, staring into identical sets of eyes. "Sorry," slid from two sets of lips, but the fingers laced even as the men would have retreated a pace. Two gazes traveled the linked hands and back to clash with its twin. Jack swallowed and cleared his throat. "This is not smart." "You think?" James reached out to trace Jack's lower lip. "You...We...really are a damn gorgeous hunk of man." His gaze roamed over Jack's lean form. "Want me to get your back?" Jack gave a soft, nervous laugh. "We're really gonna do this, aren't we?" James leaned closer, sharing breath with Jack. "Don't see it not happening." He shot a cocky grin just before staking a testing claim on Jack's lips. "Just think of it as...masturbation taken to new heights." Jack snorted and his fingers tangled in James streaming hair. "Go fuck yourself." James nodded, mirroring Jack's straggle hold on his hair. "Without a doubt." ----- Madness burned in Helen Cutter's eyes as she tilted her head and studied the gorgeous dark-haired man sleeping peacefully in bed. He was completely clueless, trusting her when his very life could, well, actually did depend on her simplest whim. She smiled darkly, just barely resisting the urge to shake his awake with a harsh hand and reveal all she had done a lot to break up his relationship with her estranged husband, Nick. Would likely do a lot more if the need arise. Nick and Stephen living happily ever after do not fit in with her plans for how the world's events progressed. And she would do whatever it took to see to it that her vision of the way time played out was indeed the way it would be, even if that meant playing havoc on the time-lines. ----- "We have Rift activity." Conner Temple shouted to the room in general, setting the team into well practiced motion. "Whatever's coming through appears to be small, he added, location, Cardiff...On or near the bay..." he rattled off the coordinates even as he moved toward the van with the rest of his team. end part 1 If you like this one, please let me know. If you think a scene needs more content, let me know that as well. Your input goes a long way to making an improved finished work. FINAL NOTE: This is a WIP. There may be revisions of this part if I decide it needs it. If I do add more or revise any part of this, I will replace that version my only on personal LJs and the wwomb archive. I will, however, make a note of it in the continuance chapters. Comm/List Written for: Written for and cross-posted to YG, LJ, IJ and DW http://community.livejournal.com/cardiff_tales http://community.livejournal.com/thetardisstory http://asylums.insanejournal.com/torchwoodfic http://asylums.insanejournal.com/timeschildren http://torchwoodfic.dreamwidth.org http://groups.yahoo.com/group/PrimevalFantasies http://groups.yahoo.com/group/RiftsAndAnomalies http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Torchwood_SlashyFantasies http://groups.yahoo.com/group/DrWho_SlashyFantasies Author's websites: http://peja.dreamwidth.org http://peja.insanejournal.com http://peja1956.livejournal.com http://www.squidge.org/peja/cgi-bin/viewuser.php?uid=1 -- The MB Archive invites all authors to archive http://www.squidge.org/peja/cgi-bin/index.php direct submissions - makebelievearchive at gmail.com Mailing Lists, Journals and Blogs http://www.squidge.org/peja/cgi-bin/categories.php?catid=3252 the WWOMB challenge sites http://promptsrus.dreamwidth.org http://asylums.insanejournal.com/promptsrus http://asylums.insanejournal.com/MinuteFic http://community.livejournal.com/adoptaplotbunny http://community.livejournal.com/MinuteFic http://lists.squidge.org/wws/info/adoptaplotbunny Keep up with the lists and archive at http://twitter.com/wwomb -------------- next part -------------- An HTML attachment was scrubbed... URL: http://www.chez-vrolet.net/pipermail/makebelieve/attachments/20100317/addb1ac2/attachment.html From makebelievearchive at gmail.com Sat Mar 20 13:56:22 2010 From: makebelievearchive at gmail.com (makebelieve archive) Date: Sat, 20 Mar 2010 15:56:22 -0500 Subject: [Makebelieve] Ficlet: Home - Survivors (BBC drama) - Tom/Greg - FRC Message-ID: Fandom: Survivors (BBC - 2008) Pairing: Tom Price/Greg Preston (Max Beesley/Paterson Joseph) Characters: Abby Grant (Julie Graham), Najid Hanif (Chahak Patel), Anya Raczynski (Zoe Tapper), Aalim Sadiq (Phillip Rhys) Rating: FRC Prompt: from lady_aduial - "Prompt 907" in the all_unwritten comm - These are my people. Summary: Tom Price comes to a stunning realization. Genre: GenSlash Permission to archive to WWOMB: Y) Acknowledgments/Notes: Thanks to lady aduial for the prompt. Disclaimer. Surviviors does not belong to me. no money made in this Comm/List Written for: (opt) Author's websites: http://peja.dreamwidth.org http://peja.insanejournal.com http://peja1956.livejournal.com http://www.squidge.org/peja/cgi-bin/viewuser.php?uid=1 Authors email: makebelievearchive at gmail.com Home by PEJA Standing with a hip balanced against the kitchen door frame, a steaming cup of coffee cradled in his large hands, Tom Price smiled an honest and peace-filled smile and let his gaze roam over the people gathered there. Abby Grant, strong willed and determined to find her son, Peter....Aalim Sadiq and his... well, his pretty much adopted son, Najid Hanif... The two of them may pretend indifference from time to time, but they were as close as any father and son could ever be. Damned if you'd hear either one admit it though. Anya Raczynski, silently carrying her guilt over not being able to save so many from the virus. 'These are my people....' The thought hit him with the force of an hydrogen bomb in an atomic twister and his smile wavered for a moment. His people. Depending, simply by keeping him close, on him to have their back. He belonged. Belonged to each and every one of the people living on this little piece of dirt they called home for now. How the fuck had it happened, this sense of belonging. The gravity of how his life had changed since the rebirth of the world settled around his shoulders. He marveled at how light that commitment smoothed over him. He would have expected to feel the bite of imprisonment, but not this...this was an angel's embrace around his shoulders. It was a miraculous second chance. He could be a better man. Hell, he was a better man. His little family of strangers respected him. He turned to him for advice. They looked at him without the disgust he'd seen in the eyes of the prison guards. And it had changed him. His smile widened again, becoming a secret smile as he caught Greg's eye. The look Greg caressed him with was something altogether awe-inspiring. There was passion in Greg's gaze. For him. Passion, and a love so great as to rival the heat from the hottest suns. Tom had lived through hell, but at the end of the world, he had come home. Home to a family bond by want rather than birth. Home. end I know, this kinda sucks, but let me know if you read it anyway. -- The MB Archive invites all authors to archive http://www.squidge.org/peja/cgi-bin/index.php direct submissions - makebelievearchive at gmail.com Mailing Lists, Journals and Blogs http://www.squidge.org/peja/cgi-bin/categories.php?catid=3252 the WWOMB challenge sites http://promptsrus.dreamwidth.org http://asylums.insanejournal.com/promptsrus http://asylums.insanejournal.com/MinuteFic http://community.livejournal.com/adoptaplotbunny http://community.livejournal.com/MinuteFic http://lists.squidge.org/wws/info/adoptaplotbunny Keep up with the lists and archive at http://twitter.com/wwomb -------------- next part -------------- An HTML attachment was scrubbed... URL: http://www.chez-vrolet.net/pipermail/makebelieve/attachments/20100320/b3ad9ac0/attachment.htm From makebelievearchive at gmail.com Tue Mar 23 18:23:50 2010 From: makebelievearchive at gmail.com (makebelieve archive) Date: Tue, 23 Mar 2010 20:23:50 -0500 Subject: [Makebelieve] Ficlet: The Taste Of His Tears - Burn Notice - Mike/Vic Message-ID: Title: The Taste Of His Tears Author: peja Fandom: Burn Notice Characters/Pairing (portrayed by): Michael Westen/Victor (Jeffrey Donovan/Michael Shanks) Rating: FRT Prompt: The running prompt in on linebyline comm is "memories glisten" Summary: Anyone else notice that Victor's head turned after Michael had shot him and he was supposedIy dead? Was facing away in the first shot, the next he was facing toward Michael. Aren't scene mistakes... encouraging. Warnings: Time to fix the bad thing Genre: slash Permission to archive to WWOMB: Y Acknowledgments/Notes: I always thought Mike would get close to Victor if he'd had the chance and the time. This is for Michael Shanks for creating such a lovable assassin. And no I really don't want him to *actually* read it. But if he did...hey he created the electric moments. Him and Jeffrey. Blame them. Disclaimer. Burn Notice does not belong to me. no money made in this Comm/List Written for: (opt) LJ: http://community.livejournal.com/burnnoticefic YG: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/BurnNotice_Fantasies Author's websites: http://peja.dreamwidth.org http://peja.insanejournal.com http://peja1956.livejournal.com http://www.squidge.org/peja/cgi-bin/viewuser.php?uid=1 The Taste Of His Tears by PEJA Memories glisten. Sparkling stars just out of reach. Beautiful to contemplate, impossible to savor. Look-but-don't-touch precious bits of maybe-was that tip-toe through the shadows of yesterday. Standing over the freshly dug grave, Michael Westen's thoughts drift to those memories. Some good. Some bad....Most bad for obvious reason. Victor had been good at what he did, and what he did was kill people. Michael, being Michael, was not a sentimental man. Not a man to wear his emotions on his sleeve. That fact alone spoke volumes considering the silent tears streaming down his face and the bunch of wild flowers he lowered onto the assassin's grave. "I miss you, Vic." 'Miss you back.' Victor's voice whispered in his ear. Whirling about, Michael found himself caught up in an embrace that was too strong to be spectral. Lips crashed against his, demanding surrender, and Michael could do nothing accept do just that, his lips parting to give the other man entrance. To savor that first unique flavor that was Victor. Michael moaned, his hands sliding up the solid muscular body he thought never to touch, to caress. He gasped for breath as Victor's lips slid from his mouth and peppered sweet kisses over his face, tasting his tears. "How...?" Michael managed through a soft groan. Victor pulled back, his hands cupping Michael's face. He smiled that sexy half-smile and brushed another kiss over Michael's lips. "You think I'd give a loaded gun to anyone?" "I checked for a pulse. You were..." Michael reached out and traced Victor's rugged features with trembling hands. "Is it really you? I'm not dreaming?" A dark chuckle sounded between them. "Not dreaming, Mike. Really me." He pushed his cheek out with his tongue. "Drugs can simulate anything if you know the right ones to use, and I do." "Thank God for that." Michael drew Victor's head down and smothered him in a kiss that promised years of passion to come. Passion both men fully intended to cash in on. Danger and black ops be damned. end Please send feedback. It's nice to know someone's reading. -- The MB Archive invites all authors to archive http://www.squidge.org/peja/cgi-bin/index.php direct submissions - makebelievearchive at gmail.com Mailing Lists, Journals and Blogs http://www.squidge.org/peja/cgi-bin/categories.php?catid=3252 the WWOMB challenge sites http://promptsrus.dreamwidth.org http://asylums.insanejournal.com/promptsrus http://asylums.insanejournal.com/MinuteFic http://community.livejournal.com/adoptaplotbunny http://community.livejournal.com/MinuteFic http://lists.squidge.org/wws/info/adoptaplotbunny Keep up with the lists and archive at http://twitter.com/wwomb -------------- next part -------------- An HTML attachment was scrubbed... URL: http://www.chez-vrolet.net/pipermail/makebelieve/attachments/20100323/0c601363/attachment.htm From makebelievearchive at gmail.com Tue Mar 30 09:25:40 2010 From: makebelievearchive at gmail.com (makebelieve archive) Date: Tue, 30 Mar 2010 11:25:40 -0500 Subject: [Makebelieve] Primeval - season 4 news Message-ID: sounds like we'll be getting another season after all. With a twist...future-works http://scifiwire.com/2010/01/yay-primevals-not-extinct.php -- The MB Archive invites all authors to archive http://www.squidge.org/peja/cgi-bin/index.php direct submissions - makebelievearchive at gmail.com Mailing Lists, Journals and Blogs http://www.squidge.org/peja/cgi-bin/categories.php?catid=3252 the WWOMB challenge sites http://promptsrus.dreamwidth.org http://asylums.insanejournal.com/promptsrus http://asylums.insanejournal.com/MinuteFic http://community.livejournal.com/adoptaplotbunny http://community.livejournal.com/MinuteFic http://lists.squidge.org/wws/info/adoptaplotbunny Keep up with the lists and archive at http://twitter.com/wwomb -------------- next part -------------- An HTML attachment was scrubbed... URL: http://www.chez-vrolet.net/pipermail/makebelieve/attachments/20100330/05cd0d79/attachment.htm From bogus@does.not.exist.com Fri Mar 12 10:22:39 2010 From: bogus@does.not.exist.com () Date: Fri, 12 Mar 2010 18:22:39 -0000 Subject: No subject Message-ID: breath for the slavers to pass. He'd witnessed this scene played out thousands of times over his growing up years. Had heard the tales of abuse and neglect served up on the heads of those luckless slaves apprehended by the Dragan acquisition teams. He'd learned early on to keep a low profile any time the warriors entered his section of the breeder camp, especially since he'd reached the age of maturity. Too many breeding aged humans had vanished over the last couple years for any of the young men and women to think themselves safe. And the rumors about the missing humans fates were far from appealing. Better to be a magog hatchery than to be taken by the Dragans. "Seamus," his father whispered at his ear. "Take your mother and get back t= o Brendan Lahey. Your cousin will see to it that these bastards don't find you." "But...." "No buts, son. They'll see us here. You know they will. We're in a bad position. I need to lead them away from you." He smiled grimly. "I'll hold them off you as long as I can." Harper peered around the corner. The acquisition team were almost upon them= . It would only take one glance and they would be finished. He met his father's eyes, the love he held for the man who had raised him shining in his moist eyes. "Dad, I..." His father smiled recklessly. "I know, boy. I know." He held out his hand t= o Seamus. Seamus stared at that hand then clasped his father's forearm in a comradely grip. "I'll do the best I can, Dad." Harper's father grinned. "Woman," he said turning to his lady wife. "Let ou= r son see you to safety." She stared into his eyes a long moment, then went into his arms for a deep searching kiss. "Forever, my love," she whispered as they parted. "Forever." He cupped her cheek. "Go now. Quickly." Before either could argue, his father darted out of the alley and down the street. Distracted by certain prey, the dragan squad took pursuit, dragging the luckless humans they already possessed along behind them. Seamus stared after them until they rounded the corner, than, taking his mother's hand, he lead her the opposite direction. Several blocks later they ran into the second team. "God's mercy." his mother cried as the warriors sprang out of a darkened shop two blocks ahead of them. The ambushed humans whirled on their heels, running in the direction they'd come. "This is no good," his mother rasped, clutching at her side. "I've got a pain in my side. I can't run anymore. Harper, save yourself. Go quickly. To the arranged spot. We'll met you there, god willing." "Mom, I don't want to leave you. I..." She gave him a shove toward the next street. "Go, my son. Be safe. For your father. For me, go." With that, she whirled, snatching up a rod lying in the street and prepared to meet the warriors head on. Harper ran, near blinded by the tears. For the love of his mom and dad, he ran. ************ Brendan laid a hand on Seamus' shoulder, bringing the smaller blond out of his grim thoughts. "Seamus, you did the only thing you could. They died so you could live." Seamus nodded. "Yeah, that's me, Seamus Harper, the fuck that does the righ= t thing every time." He tugged the shriller out of his hip pocket. "Especiall= y if its the easy thing." He pressed it to his lips and blew. Once, twice and again, then let the shriller slip from his fingers into his parents shared grave. Taking time to study the two who gave him life one last time he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving his cousin to stand vigil over the dead. Harper let his feet take him where they would, wandering without thought. Without direction. Lost in a grief so large he felt it would swallow him alive. Until a voice called his name and he realized he'd wandered the day away an= d was deep in the darkness of night. His blue gaze swept the area, searching for the person who was calling to him. And found no one. "Great, superhero, now you're imagining things. Way to lose your mind hotshot." He walked on, getting a forth of the way down the block before his name was whispered from the shadows again. He whirled around and found the streets empty. "Whose there?" He rasped. No answer came to him. He started walking again. Slipping into a fast walk, his eyes scanning everything around him for the people, for there had been two separate voices. How many more? How many? "Harper" "Har-r-r-per" "Hey, Harper..." Three new voices took up the chant. Panic flooded his blood and he whirled, trying to penetrate the darkness. T= o locate his tormentors. "This isn't funny." He screamed, whirling this way and that. "Show yourself." Nothing moved. "Dammit, show yourselves." Still the silence reigned. Harper drew a shaky breath, raked through his spiked hair. "I've got a gun. You'd be smart if you leave me alone." "I've got a gun." a voice taunted somewhere to his left. "You'd be smart....." came from the left "Leave me alone." from behind and much too close for comfort. Biting his lip, Harper slowly turned to face the approaching Dragan warrior= . Frozen in place, Harper mouthed a silent, "No." The warrior chuckled, rippling his talons in the moonlight. "You'd be smart," he minced, "If you leave me alone." Harper held his hands out before him as if to ward off the approaching slaver. "Leave me alone. "What's wrong, kludge?" the slaver said, opening his arms wide. "No one her= e to get between us and you tonight?" Another warrior stepped into the light, closing in on him. "No one to protect the breeder." And yet another hulking slaver stepped into the light, stalking him. "No on= e to stop us from taking the kludge we were sent to acquire?" The muscles in Harper's body finally unlocked. he reached for the shriller in his back pocket and came up empty. He'd tossed it in his parents grave. God, the only hope and he'd chucked it like a fool to the slaughter. Like a kludge. Fueled by terror, his feet carried him backward a step or two before he whirled and darted past the warriors coming at him from all sides. And suddenly the street was filled with over a dozen loping Dragan warriors= , throwing taunts, calling his name. Keeping pace with his heels, breathing down his neck. A few sprinted ahead and turning gracefully around, ran backward, facing him. Near blinded by tears, Seamus ran. ran until his lungs burned, threatening to burst. Ran until fire lanced in his side, bending him over and still he ran, stumbling, catching himself, running without hope. Fingers brushed over his skin. "He's a fine specimen." A razor sharp talon pricked his arm. "He has spirit. He'll breed strong slaves." One of the warriors facing him caressed his groin. "A nice package, boy. You'll do well." Harper jerked away from each touch, each caress, slowing as his body ran down. He stumbled again. This time going down on his knees. He scrambled on hands and knees, not yet willing to admit defeat. A brutal foot stabbed into his throbbing side, lifting him off the ground. Another thudding kick against his temple brought him down, and the darkness folded in on him. "Take the kludge to the ship and clean him up," he heard as he slipped away= . "Del Fey will expect to feast on this one tonight." Flashpoint 2: Awakening By PEJA Waking came slow and with a blaze of pain riding his entire body. Taking care not to breath too deeply, Seamus Harper slitted his eyes and let in a small bit of the nightmare come to life. He was not in Boston. From the look of the reflective white metal walls and smell of recirculated air he wasn't even on the planet anymore. A drawn out moan crawled out of the pit of his stomach and he draped a weighted arm over his eyes to block out what his mind screamed against believing. Screamed out, then with the submission of a man in hell shuddere= d to acceptance. "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto," he mumbled under his breath. "You're awake?" a soft voice said, coming from behind him to. "I had begun to worry." A smile lit Harper's face at the sound of the soft womanly voice and forgetting the damage to his body, he rolled over. A sharp, stabbing pain dug into his ribs, curling him in on himself. "Oh, this is so not good." He tried to roll over onto his side but the ripping pain in his ribs stille= d him even before the woman=92s hands confined him. "You need to be still awhile. You took a vicious beating." Breathing through the pain wracking his body, Harper arched a sarcastic brow. "Gee, ya think?" She smiled softly, patting his hand. "The master commanded you be given a nanobot injection. You need to lie still until the agents can repair the damage." "Master?" Gritting his teeth, Harper pressed himself to sit up. "Oh, man, I ....forgot. The Dragan=92s....Where are they?" Gritting his teeth against t= he blackness eating away at his vision, he shoved onto his feet. His knees wobbling under him, he clung to the side of the high bed, casting a desperate darting glance around. "You=92re in the infirmary," the woman informed him, hurriedly getting a shoulder under him to support him. "Please, you must get back in bed. The master won=92t be happy if you injure yourself farther." Harper ignored her pleas, his eyes darting around the med-center desperately. "You can not escape. Master Del Fey has posted guards outside." the woman told him. "Please..." Harper thrust her away, stumbling at the force of his own shove, he reached out, catching himself against the bed and jarring his ribs. Darkness hit hi= m like a wave, but he shook it off, his fear too strong to let him escape through unconsciousness. Wavering, swaying, he dragged one foot in front of the other toward what he hoped was the back door. Several steps into his impossibly slow flight to freedom, his knees caved under him and he went down hard. The woman knelt at his side, trying to coax him back to bed. He shook her off, gaining his hands and knees, but unable to stand. He continued forward the only way he could, crawling stiffly on arms that seemed intent on flopping in no particular direction, until once more his body collapsed. floundering, unable to get his arms to support him for more than seconds, he resorted to belly crawling, inching forward, forward... Until hard hands grasped his forearms and lifted him bodily from the floor. Strong hands turned him to dangle before a mockingly handsome man. No, not = a man. Not with those dangerous, glittering bone-blades. A Nietzschean Del Fey. Harper could barely flail his heavy arms as his captor carted him bodily across the room and laid him in the bed he'd abandoned moments before. Before Harper could act against him, the Nietzschean pressed a control on the bed side and Harper found himself locked into a status field. Wild-eyed he met Del Fey's mocking gaze. "When he is healed," Del Fey spoke to the woman, but his eyes held Harper's= , letting him know the words were for him. "Have him cleaned thoroughly and brought to my quarters. I would have him...." a seductive smile curled his lips. "...for lunch." harper blanched, knowing without hope for rescue, he was well and truly fucked. Defeat took consciousness from him in an instant, the Nietzschean's words following him into the darkness to play havoc on the security of his dreams [...and finally a bit of a tease that I'm working up for the next capter. ] Part 3 Del Fey's dark eyes ran apprecatively up Harper's scarcely clothed form and he smiled. "You're appearance so...most pleasing, kluge." Harper scowled at the big Nietzschean. "Like I should give a big fucking damn what pleases you?" His smart mouth earned him a rough shake from the guard that had escorted him none to gently to Del Fey's quarters. "Don't break my bed mate, fool." Del Fey snarled and the guard made some apologetic noises, but his fingers tightened painfully on Harper's arm in punishment. --=20 The MB Archive invites all authors to archive http://www.squidge.org/peja/cgi-bin/index.php direct submissions - makebelievearchive at gmail.com Mailing Lists, Journals and Blogs http://www.squidge.org/peja/cgi-bin/categories.php?catid=3D3252 the WWOMB challenge sites http://promptsrus.dreamwidth.org http://asylums.insanejournal.com/promptsrus http://asylums.insanejournal.com/MinuteFic http://community.livejournal.com/adoptaplotbunny http://community.livejournal.com/MinuteFic http://lists.squidge.org/wws/info/adoptaplotbunny Keep up with the lists and archive at http://twitter.com/wwomb --0050450167fb1d561c0487abaaf5 Content-Type: text/html; charset=windows-1252 Content-Transfer-Encoding: quoted-printable
FLASHPOINT
By PEJA
Fandom: Andromeda
Pairing: Preslash for Se= amus Harper/Dragon warriors
Rating: R
Warning: There is Non-con sex = of an unconscious man in this one (Does that make it worse)
Summary: The= truth behind why Seamus left Boston
Spoilers: Yea, but I can't remember the ep name, so when they went back= to Boston ep....
Feedback: I write faster if I have a reason too
Ema= il: daltonavon at yahoo.com
Web= site: http://www.squidge.org/~pej= a/


FLASHPOINT
By PEJA

Drago-Kazov Pride warriors, leading se= veral hapless, bound kludges behind them, strode through the dark streets o= f Boston. Those few Earthers that dared violate the curfew scattered before= the approaching slavers, desperate for any hidey-hole they might find.
From his vantage point at the mouth of an alley, Seamus waited with bat= ed breath for the slavers to pass. He'd witnessed this scene played out= thousands of times over his growing up years. Had heard the tales of abuse= and neglect served up on the heads of those luckless slaves apprehended by= the Dragan acquisition teams.

He'd learned early on to keep a low profile any time the warriors e= ntered his section of the breeder camp, especially since he'd reached t= he age of maturity. Too many breeding aged humans had vanished over the las= t couple years for any of the young men and women to think themselves safe.=

And the rumors about the missing humans fates were far from appealing. = Better to be a magog hatchery than to be taken by the Dragans.

"= ;Seamus," his father whispered at his ear. "Take your mother and = get back to Brendan Lahey. Your cousin will see to it that these bastards d= on't find you."

"But...."

"No buts, son. They'll see us here.= You know they will. We're in a bad position. I need to lead them away = from you." He smiled grimly. "I'll hold them off you as long = as I can."

Harper peered around the corner. The acquisition team were almost upon = them. It would only take one glance and they would be finished.

He = met his father's eyes, the love he held for the man who had raised him = shining in his moist eyes. "Dad, I..."

His father smiled recklessly. "I know, boy. I know." He held = out his hand to Seamus.

Seamus stared at that hand then clasped his = father's forearm in a comradely grip. "I'll do the best I can,= Dad."

Harper's father grinned. "Woman," he said turning to his = lady wife. "Let our son see you to safety."

She stared int= o his eyes a long moment, then went into his arms for a deep searching kiss= . "Forever, my love," she whispered as they parted.

"Forever." He cupped her cheek. "Go now. Quickly."<= br>
Before either could argue, his father darted out of the alley and do= wn the street. Distracted by certain prey, the dragan squad took pursuit, d= ragging the luckless humans they already possessed along behind them.

Seamus stared after them until they rounded the corner, than, taking hi= s mother's hand, he lead her the opposite direction.

Several bl= ocks later they ran into the second team.

"God's mercy.&qu= ot; his mother cried as the warriors sprang out of a darkened shop two bloc= ks ahead of them.

The ambushed humans whirled on their heels, running in the direction th= ey'd come.

"This is no good," his mother rasped, clutc= hing at her side. "I've got a pain in my side. I can't run any= more. Harper, save yourself. Go quickly. To the arranged spot. We'll me= t you there, god willing."

"Mom, I don't want to leave you. I..."

She gave h= im a shove toward the next street. "Go, my son. Be safe. For your fath= er. For me, go."

With that, she whirled, snatching up a rod lyi= ng in the street and prepared to meet the warriors head on.

Harper ran, near blinded by the tears.

For the love of his mom a= nd dad, he ran.

************

Brendan laid a hand on Seamus= 9; shoulder, bringing the smaller blond out of his grim thoughts. "Sea= mus, you did the only thing you could. They died so you could live."
Seamus nodded. "Yeah, that's me, Seamus Harper, the fuck that = does the right thing every time." He tugged the shriller out of his hi= p pocket. "Especially if its the easy thing." He pressed it to hi= s lips and blew. Once, twice and again, then let the shriller slip from his= fingers into his parents shared grave.

Taking time to study the two who gave him life one last time he turned = on his heel and walked away, leaving his cousin to stand vigil over the dea= d.

Harper let his feet take him where they would, wandering without= thought. Without direction. Lost in a grief so large he felt it would swal= low him alive.

Until a voice called his name and he realized he'd wandered the day= away and was deep in the darkness of night.

His blue gaze swept th= e area, searching for the person who was calling to him. And found no one. = "Great, superhero, now you're imagining things. Way to lose your m= ind hotshot."

He walked on, getting a forth of the way down the block before his name= was whispered from the shadows again.

He whirled around and found = the streets empty.

"Whose there?" He rasped.

No an= swer came to him.

He started walking again. Slipping into a fast walk, his eyes scanning = everything around him for the people, for there had been two separate voice= s. How many more? How many?

"Harper"

"Har-r-r-= per"

"Hey, Harper..."

Three new voices took up the chant.
Panic flooded his blood and he whirled, trying to penetrate the darkn= ess. To locate his tormentors. "This isn't funny." He screame= d, whirling this way and that. "Show yourself."

Nothing moved.

"Dammit, show yourselves."

Still= the silence reigned.

Harper drew a shaky breath, raked through his = spiked hair. "I've got a gun. You'd be smart if you leave me a= lone."

"I've got a gun." a voice taunted somewhere to his left.<= br>
"You'd be smart....." came from the left

"= Leave me alone." from behind and much too close for comfort.

Biting his lip, Harper slowly turned to face the approaching Dragan warrior= .

Frozen in place, Harper mouthed a silent, "No."

T= he warrior chuckled, rippling his talons in the moonlight. "You'd = be smart," he minced, "If you leave me alone."

Harper held his hands out before him as if to ward off the approaching = slaver. "Leave me alone.

"What's wrong, kludge?" = the slaver said, opening his arms wide. "No one here to get between us= and you tonight?"

Another warrior stepped into the light, closing in on him. "No one= to protect the breeder."

And yet another hulking slaver steppe= d into the light, stalking him. "No one to stop us from taking the klu= dge we were sent to acquire?"

The muscles in Harper's body finally unlocked. he reached for the s= hriller in his back pocket and came up empty.

He'd tossed it in= his parents grave.

God, the only hope and he'd chucked it like= a fool to the slaughter.

Like a kludge.

Fueled by terror, his feet carried him backward a= step or two before he whirled and darted past the warriors coming at him f= rom all sides.

And suddenly the street was filled with over a dozen = loping Dragan warriors, throwing taunts, calling his name. Keeping pace wit= h his heels, breathing down his neck. A few sprinted ahead and turning grac= efully around, ran backward, facing him.

Near blinded by tears, Seamus ran. ran until his lungs burned, threaten= ing to burst. Ran until fire lanced in his side, bending him over and still= he ran, stumbling, catching himself, running without hope.

Fingers = brushed over his skin. "He's a fine specimen."

A razor sharp talon pricked his arm. "He has spirit. He'll bre= ed strong slaves."

One of the warriors facing him caressed his = groin. "A nice package, boy. You'll do well."

Harper j= erked away from each touch, each caress, slowing as his body ran down. He s= tumbled again. This time going down on his knees. He scrambled on hands and= knees, not yet willing to admit defeat.

A brutal foot stabbed into his throbbing side, lifting him off the grou= nd. Another thudding kick against his temple brought him down, and the dark= ness folded in on him.

"Take the kludge to the ship and clean h= im up," he heard as he slipped away. "Del Fey will expect to feas= t on this one tonight."


=A0
Flashpoint 2: Awakening
By PEJA

Waking came slow a= nd with a blaze of pain riding his entire body. Taking care not to breath t= oo deeply, Seamus Harper slitted his eyes and let in a small bit of the nig= htmare come to life.

He was not in Boston. From the look of the reflective white metal walls= and smell of recirculated air he wasn't even on the planet anymore.
A drawn out moan crawled out of the pit of his stomach and he draped a= weighted arm over his eyes to block out what his mind screamed against bel= ieving. Screamed out, then with the submission of a man in hell shuddered t= o acceptance.

"I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto," he mum= bled under his breath.

"You're awake?" a soft voice sa= id, coming from behind him to. "I had begun to worry."

A smile lit Harper's face at the sound of the soft womanly voice and fo= rgetting the damage to his body, he rolled over. A sharp, stabbing pain dug= into his ribs, curling him in on himself. "Oh, this is so not good.&q= uot;

He tried to roll over onto his side but the ripping pain in his ribs st= illed him even before the woman=92s hands confined him.

"You ne= ed to be still awhile. You took a vicious beating."

Breathing = through the pain wracking his body, Harper arched a sarcastic brow. "G= ee, ya think?"

She smiled softly, patting his hand. "The master commanded you be = given a nanobot injection. You need to lie still until the agents can repai= r the damage."

"Master?" Gritting his teeth, Harper p= ressed himself to sit up. "Oh, man, I ....forgot. The Dragan=92s....Wh= ere are they?" Gritting his teeth against the blackness eating away at= his vision, he shoved onto his feet. His knees wobbling under him, he clun= g to the side of the high bed, casting a desperate darting glance around.
"You=92re in the infirmary," the woman informed him, hurriedl= y getting a shoulder under him to support him. "Please, you must get b= ack in bed. The master won=92t be happy if you injure yourself farther.&quo= t;

Harper ignored her pleas, his eyes darting around the med-center desper= ately.

"You can not escape. Master Del Fey has posted guards ou= tside." the woman told him. "Please..."

Harper thrust= her away, stumbling at the force of his own shove, he reached out, catchin= g himself against the bed and jarring his ribs. Darkness hit him like a wav= e, but he shook it off, his fear too strong to let him escape through uncon= sciousness.

Wavering, swaying, he dragged one foot in front of the other toward wha= t he hoped was the back door. Several steps into his impossibly slow flight= to freedom, his knees caved under him and he went down hard.

The w= oman knelt at his side, trying to coax him back to bed.

He shook her off, gaining his hands and knees, but unable to stand. He = continued forward the only way he could, crawling stiffly on arms that seem= ed intent on flopping in no particular direction, until once more his body = collapsed. floundering, unable to get his arms to support him for more than= seconds, he resorted to belly crawling, inching forward, forward...

Until hard hands grasped his forearms and lifted him bodily from the fl= oor.

Strong hands turned him to dangle before a mockingly handsome m= an. No, not a man. Not with those dangerous, glittering bone-blades.=A0 A N= ietzschean

Del Fey.

Harper could barely flail his heavy arms as his captor = carted him bodily across the room and laid him in the bed he'd abandone= d moments before.

Before Harper could act against him, the Nietzsche= an pressed a control on the bed side and Harper found himself locked into a= status field.

Wild-eyed he met Del Fey's mocking gaze.

"When he is he= aled," Del Fey spoke to the woman, but his eyes held Harper's, let= ting him know the words were for him. "Have him cleaned thoroughly and= brought to my quarters. I would have him...." a seductive smile curle= d his lips. "...for lunch."

harper blanched, knowing without hope for rescue, he was well and truly= fucked.

Defeat took consciousness from him in an instant, the Nietz= schean's words following him into the darkness to play havoc on the sec= urity of his dreams


[...and finally a bit of a tease that I'm working up for the ne= xt capter. ]
Part 3

Del Fey's dark eyes ran apprecatively up = Harper's scarcely clothed form and he smiled. "You're appearan= ce so...most pleasing, kluge."

Harper scowled at the big Nietzschean. "Like I should give a big f= ucking damn what pleases you?"

His smart mouth earned him a ro= ugh shake from the guard that had escorted him none to gently to Del Fey= 9;s quarters.

"Don't break my bed mate, fool." Del Fey snarled and the = guard made some apologetic noises, but his fingers tightened painfully on H= arper's arm in punishment.

=A0



-- <= br> The MB Archive invites all authors to archive
http://www.squidge.org/peja/cgi-bin/index.= php
direct submissions =A0- makebelievearchive at gmail.com
Mailing Lists, Journals and Blogs
http://www.squidge.org/peja/cgi-bin/c= ategories.php?catid=3D3252
the WWOMB challenge sites
http://promptsrus.dreamwidth.org
http://asylums.insa= nejournal.com/promptsrus
http://asylums.insanejournal.com/MinuteFic
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http://lists.squidge.org/wws/info/adoptaplotbunny
K= eep up with the lists and archive at h= ttp://twitter.com/wwomb
--0050450167fb1d561c0487abaaf5-- From bogus@does.not.exist.com Fri Mar 12 10:22:39 2010 From: bogus@does.not.exist.com () Date: Fri, 12 Mar 2010 18:22:39 -0000 Subject: No subject Message-ID: *Not* Torchwood Magazines Torchwood Writing Co Insane Journal John Barrowman Characters -- Complete Kingdom Of Slash -- Dark Fic-- Makebelieve -- Minute Fic-- Prompts R Us -- Rifts & Anomalies-- Rifts And Anomalies -- Children Of Time -- Torchwood Fic Dreamwidth John Barrowman Characters -- Complete Kingdom Of Slash -- The Wonderful World Of Makebelieve -- Prompts R Us-- Torchwood fic -- The MB Archive invites all authors to archive http://www.squidge.org/peja/cgi-bin/index.php direct submissions - makebelievearchive at gmail.com Mailing Lists, Journals and Blogs http://www.squidge.org/peja/cgi-bin/categories.php?catid=3252 the WWOMB challenge sites http://promptsrus.dreamwidth.org http://asylums.insanejournal.com/promptsrus http://asylums.insanejournal.com/MinuteFic http://community.livejournal.com/adoptaplotbunny http://community.livejournal.com/MinuteFic http://lists.squidge.org/wws/info/adoptaplotbunny Keep up with the lists and archive at http://twitter.com/wwomb --001636b1452374039604895214bc Content-Type: text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1 Content-Transfer-Encoding: quoted-printable

Torchwood trade-a-fic

Here's the deal...

Let's face it, the comms are god awful s= low=20 and that's no not fun, so....

...I'm offering to write Torch= wood=20 (or Dr who)story for anyone who emails me a prompt. Can be as simple as the pairing, or whatever you want, including a chapter of one of my=20 WIPs.

But there is a string attached...that being that You agree to write me a Torchwood story or do an icon of your own choosing=20 as well. You can post the story here (I think you can do that in the=20 comments at least), or choose one of the comms I'm cross-posting.
<= br>cross posted to my personal journals on LJ, IJ & DW. Also to:

live journal:

AdoptAPlotBunny -- John Barrowman=20 Characters -- Cardiff Tales=20 -- Children Of Time -- Da= rk Fiction -- Fanfic Swap Meet -- Femme slash -- KinkyKinks -- Makebelieve Archive on LJ -- Minute Fic -- Rifts And Anomalies -- Complete Kingdom of Slash -- Rare and Off The=20 Card Stories -- Tales From The=20 Tardis -- The *Not* Torchwood=20 Magazines Torchwood Writing Co


Insane Journal

John= =20 Barrowman Characters -- Complete Kingdom Of Slash -- Dar= k Fic -- Makebelieve=20 -- = Minute Fic -- Prompts R Us -- Rifts & Anomalies -- Rifts And=20 Anomalies -- Children Of Time -- Torchwood Fic

Dreamwidth

John Barrowman Characters -- Complete Kingdom= =20 Of Slash -- The Wonderful World Of=20 Makebelieve -- Prompts R Us -- Torchwood fic

--
The MB Archive i= nvites all authors to archive
http://www.squidg= e.org/peja/cgi-bin/index.php
direct submissions =A0- makebelievearchive at gmail.com
Mail= ing Lists, Journals and Blogs
http://www.squidge.org/peja/cgi-bin/categories.php?catid=3D3252
the= WWOMB challenge sites
http= ://promptsrus.dreamwidth.org
http://asylums.insa= nejournal.com/promptsrus
http://asylums.insanejournal.com/MinuteFic
http://community.livejourna= l.com/adoptaplotbunny
http://community.liv= ejournal.com/MinuteFic
http://lists.squidge.org/wws/info/adoptaplotbunny
K= eep up with the lists and archive at h= ttp://twitter.com/wwomb
--001636b1452374039604895214bc--