PS

[nny]

As a sideline from all the work I have to do:

If you give me a pairing and a part of the body, I will write you three lines or so. Maybe more.

I steal because I love, catwalksalone.

I'm assuming you guys know my vaguely!fandoms?

Comments

[apiphile.livejournal.com]

Marwood/Carstairs, abdomen.

[catwalksalone]

D'aww, I love you. And to prove it, I want Abs/Abs, and I would have chosen abs, but you don't want two in a row the same, so, um, hair.

[brewsternorth.livejournal.com]

John/Sherlock (or McGee/DiNozzo if Sherlock is too new a vaguely!fandom), hands.

[villainny.livejournal.com]

It is just as well that Sherlock never claimed to be normal. It is just as well that he never tried to fit his enthusiasms in line with other people's, because he suspects that even Mycroft might find it somewhat less than savoury that the first time Sherlock truly notices John - physically, as more than an amorphous bundle of peculiar annoyances - it is when John's hands are practically inside him.

He does deplore those that state the obvious, thinks 'ow' to be on about the same conversational level as mindless comments about the weather and enquiries after children. He can't quite hold in a grunt, though, as John pulls out the splinter -

"It is not a splinter, Sherlock, it's practically the size of my finger. Your finger. Will you bloody hold still?"

- and pushes the handkerchief a little more tightly against the wound.

John's fingers are messy with Sherlock's blood, tacky in the creases; Sherlock tugs at the hand that's not busy with handkerchiefs and holds his own up against it.

"Must you?" John asks, with an exasperation that suggests he has the situation at least marginally under control.

Must you? Sherlock thinks. The information is useless and ought to make way for far more pertinent things, but Sherlock is almost certain he will never quite forget the precise length of John's fingers against his, the way he can curl his fingers just over the tops as though in possession. It is aggravating, and he ought to berate John for it, but he's not sure John wouldn't find it somehow less than savoury.

"Ow," he says instead.

[brewsternorth.livejournal.com]

Wibble. Also, ngh hot.

sorry for the crappity, I cannot fit the right words around the idea.

[villainny.livejournal.com]

So Abby doesn't like to admit this but it started with a mullet.

It's not always everything, it's not like she completely loses her sense of self - except that one time with the black leather when she found out that their sense of self fit her better than hers ever did, and better than they did too. It's just you get to the point where you're defending their tastes so long and so hard that you get a little caught up in it yourself.

So yeah, in third grade, she wore a mullet for five long weeks. Then Billie transferred out, and Abby cried for three days, and found herself arguing the case for Mitchell's torn off sleeves maybe a week later.

She's tried veganism and Buddhism, dredlocks and lycra. And even though she's kind of more centred about this stuff these days she still finds herself looking up at the door that hisses open from under a mop of slightly haphazard curls.

"Hey," says Abby, the other Abby, in the voice that makes her melt.

Abby grins the grin of the faintly abashed, which goes lopsided for a moment and then abruptly gains strength when she notices that Abby - the other Abby - has her curls pulled into slightly haphazard bunches.

Re: sorry for the crappity, I cannot fit the right words around the idea.

[catwalksalone]

Aww, ABBY. And oh! I love that it worked the other way around for other Abby with the bunches. Because they WOULD. So many hearts.