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I'm working on a lot of different stories right now, for a lot of different fandoms, so I thought I'd share a few of them. :3


1. Hawaii Five-0, AU, magical realism, <1k done so far

Danny’s morning was ruined by a rogue detective novel. He and the rest of Five-0 spent four hours rounding up various con-men and murderous strippers. Kono wound up shooting the vigilante main character to subdue him, leaving Danny, who had been standing just a bit too close, with a soaked tie.

“Sorry, brah,” Kono said as she pressed the main character back into his narrative. He swore at her with a ridiculous caricature of a New York accent. Danny wanted to track down the author and punch him in the face.

“This was my favorite tie,” Danny said, turning his glare on Steve. “Gracie gave me this tie. McGarrett, you are explaining to my daughter why yet another one of the ties she gave me is covered in print blood!”

“It’s not that bad,” Steve said, wrestling a Russian mobster with comically over-sized muscles into submission. “One trip to a decent dry cleaners it’ll be good as new.”

“No, Steven, no it will not!” Danny shouted, waving his arms. “You know how I know this? Because that it didn’t work for my other favorite tie, which you also destroyed!”

“This time it was--”

“No!” Danny held up his ruined tie. “You see this, Steven? This is your fault because you didn’t wait for backup like I told you. And you, my crazy friend, are going to be the one to replace it!” Danny threw up his hands and looked heavenward. “Stains! Stains on my clothes! Stains on my work clothes!”

“Hey,” Steve interrupted, a shit-eating grin on his face. He pushed the restrained mobster at his partner and tossed him a copy of the mystery. “Book ‘em, Danno.”

“That is a terrible pun, and you should feel terrible,” Danny grumbled, but he flipped open the novel and did as he was told.


2. Hawaii Five-0, dystopia, everyone has a clock, >2.2k done so far

Danny goes into work with less than a day on his clock. He feels the familiar edge of panic, the knowledge that if he doesn’t get paid now, he’ll die before gets to dinner. If Steve doesn’t get him killed before then.

Danny always comes to work in long-sleeves when he’s running short on time; he doesn’t want his teammates to worry or Steve to do anything stupid. Kono’s clock hasn’t even started yet, and Chin’s almost as broke as Danny. The only one on their task force with days to spare is Steve, who walks around with a freaking decade. Danny knows for a fact that he’s got more in the bank.

Chin catches him looking at his arm. Steve told them that their pay was delayed until tomorrow -- some kind of bureaucratic bullshit -- and Danny has been feeling distinctly woozy ever since. He can’t take out another loan, and he absolutely doesn’t want to go crawling to Rachel again, asking for just a few more hours, just a few, please. Hawai’i is expensive, and his pride can’t take much more of this. He’s already cut his budget down to the second. However, if it comes down to either embarrassment or death, Danny will chose embarrassment, every time. He wants to see his little girl grow up, after all.

When Danny looks up from contemplating his desk and mortality and meets Chin’s gaze, he flinches. Chin’s eyes go to Danny’s clock, and then back up to his face. He enters Danny’s office and closes the door. Then he closes the blinds for good measure.

“How long do you need?” Chin asks, rolling up his sleeves. Danny can see that Chin has four days left, enough to get him by until their pay tomorrow if he doesn’t splurge on anything to expensive.

“Chin, you don’t need to--” Danny says. Chin cuts him off.

“It’s either me or I go outside and tell Steve that you have less than twelve hours to live.”

“Fine,” Danny says sullenly. He puts his unmarked arm on his desk, hand open, and looks at his clock. The seconds tick by. Chin sits down in the chair across from him and grabs Danny, pressing their wrists together. He looks at his own clock, watching the minutes drain away.

Receiving time has always felt strange to Danny. He can hear it in his head, the rapid tick of seconds, minutes, hours, days, years transferring from one person to another. It feels like blood rushing into him, like pure energy. Like life. Danny watches as Chin adds another twenty-three hours to his clock, more than enough to last him until they get their pay. Chin pulls away and straightens in his seat. He looks like a man who just gave away twenty-three hours of his life.

“I’ll pay you back,” Danny swears, pulling his sleeves down. “Seriously, I’ll give you back every second, plus interest.”

“Consider it a gift,” Chin shrugs, and then he gets up and opens the door.


3. Amy Pond and the Doctor's Daughter, <1k done so far

Amy is making tea in the kitchen when she hears a loud crash from the yard. She drops her cup in her haste to get outside. It’s been a year since the Doctor left her for the second time; she still finds herself looking back at the rebuilt shed in the early hours of the morning, wistful about the possibilities that never happened. Her relationship with Rory is the same as it’s ever been; he’s dependable, her Rory, although not exactly thrilling. They’re going to get married, in a year’s time.

Amy Pond wants something different, something exciting.

So when she hears the crash, she drops her cup and goes running, convinced that it’s her Raggedy Doctor, come to rescue her from a life of monotony and boredom.

But instead of a blue police box, there’s an ugly hunk of metal, squat and undignified. Amy grabs the nearest weapon, which appears to be a garden hoe. A door opens up in the metal hulk, revealing a blaze of light and a plume of smoke. A blonde woman appears, coughing and swearing.

“That was a bit rougher than I thought it would be,” the woman says, and then she passes out.

4. BBC Sherlock AU, Chalice crossover, >7k done so far

John stood at the top of the steps, waiting. Beside him, Lady Anthea stood serenely, managing to look cool, unruffled, and oblivious under the hot summer sun. Only John was close enough to observe the sharpness of her eyes or the way she had positioned herself to see every movement in the courtyard below. She was a very untraditional Lady, but then, John was a very untraditional Chalice, and the Master was a very untraditional Master.

A shout went up from the crowd. Their Master had returned, dragging his younger brother back home. The infamous young Sherlock (who was actually John’s age, and thus not so young) had disappeared, again, some six years ago, before John had returned to Bretaigne from the Overlord’s wars, and before Lord Mycroft became Master. The demesne had been unsettled while the Master was away, but now John could feel the earthlines unknotting themselves beneath him. The land welcomed its Master back, and John did too. It was always harder when Lord Mycroft was away.

The carriage door opened, revealing the Master, who were he not the Master, would be confused with an ordinary man -- a little soft around the middle, but otherwise unremarkable. With the Masterhood, however, he rose to legendary importance and stature, and since he wasn’t bad looking, the history books would remember him as handsome.

The wayward brother came out after him, and John saw why the maids still whispered about him. He was tall and thin and handsome, and his sharp blue eyes seemed to cut through the air. The demesne seemed to shutter under his feet, very slightly. So slightly that only John and the Master probably even noticed. Lord Mycroft met John’s eyes, even as he reached back and grabbed his brother’s arm, as if to stop him from running away again.

Anthea smiled. Her husband approached them, climbing the stairs without letting go of his brother. Once he reached the top, he looked over at her and smiled back. They weren’t a very warm couple, at least where others could see it, but there had to some love there. Lord Mycroft had fought to take her as his wife, fought hard and long. He had only won when he threatened (according to rumor) to leave the demesne entire and hand over the Master’s title to his brother. Everyone, from the Overlord to the lowest peasant, knew that that would end terribly. Stories of what had occurred at the Willowlands demesne still circulated today, a century later; the Overlord dare not try to take the land from it’s blood owners.

So Lord Mycroft had won, and Anthea, an unknown commoner of no noble standing or power, had become Lady of Bretaigne.

John took a deep breath and adjusted his grip on the welcome cup. His was the first greeting.

“Welcome, Master,” he said, holding the cup forward, so that the Master could take it from him. The Master -- for he wasn’t Lord Mycroft during official ceremonies, which this was -- took the cup and raised it over his head, letting the sun highlight the smooth design that had been etched into the cup centuries ago. The Master lowered the cup and put it to his lips, tasting the carefully brewed tea the Chalice had made for the occasion. He gave his Chalice a sharp look after what he had been given dawned on him, but he did not falter as he handed the welcome cup back.

“I am welcomed,” he said, and then he dragged his brother inside.
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