catko: (Fringe Brain)
[personal profile] catko
For a challenge at [livejournal.com profile] gameofcards, to write drabbles inspired by icons posted by others. Here's mine...





7791110Icon from [livejournal.com profile] erinm_4600
Fandom:Fringe
Rating: G, no warnings
Word count:140


“Happy birthday, dear Peterrrrr! Happy birthday to youuuuuuuu!” warbled the assembled group without much harmony, but with shy sincerity (Olivia),  happy enthusiasm (Astrid), and booming vigor (Walter). And gentle lowing (Gene). Peter grinned and bent down to blow out the candles, noting with a part of his mind that they seemed to be casting an unusually strong light and heat, and worried slightly—again with a part of his mind, and as was common with any Walter-implicated activity.

Ah well. He hadn’t gotten where he was—in a clandestine lab on the Harvard campus with his crazy dad and the FBI, investigating the paranormal—by avoiding risk.  Closing his eyes, he blew out the flickering flames, and made the wish for his 38th birthday that there was nothing poisonous, explosive, radioactive, or gene-altering about the red velvet birthday cake.


59946108Icon from [livejournal.com profile] katleept
Fandom: Batman
Rating: G, no warning, but somewhat AU
Word count: 124


He could hear her voice hissing as she poised above, nose to nose. “You're catnip to a girl like me. Handsome, dazed, and to die for.” She gave a throaty laugh, then a blaring car horn in the distance blotted out the rest of their words as he strained to eavesdrop from the fire escape. Well, he’d seen and heard enough, drat it. He knew his mentor well enough to recognize the symptoms—that feline female wasn’t wrong to call it “dazed.”

Wrapping his cape around his bare arms, he scowled at the snow and circumstances, and snuck off the building, heading back to Wayne Manor to figure out how he, a mere sidekick, could get his boss out from under such a spell.


4832031Icon from [livejournal.com profile] craterdweller
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, AU
Rating: G, no warnings
Word count: 179


Buffy paused before the closed door and took a deep breath.  How long had it been since she’d faced such a challenge, yet the will to readiness came suddenly, and naturally.  “Girl, you still got it,” she grinned wryly to herself. Shaking out her fingers, she bounced for a moment on the balls of her feet, then reached out and pushed the door open--striding in, not letting herself flinch at the roar of sound that rushed toward her.

"BUFFY!!" A familiar shriek, a blur of dark hair, then next she knew she was engulfed in a crushing hug, with a voice crying, "Buffy, Buffy, Buffy, Buffy," close to her ear. She pulled back and looked into a pair of tearful eyes, more beset by laugh lines, but with the same youthful kindness as when she'd first seen them, so many years ago. "Will," she breathed. They had but a moment to gaze upon each other before they were set upon by more grasping arms, choked voices, and sloppy kisses as the Sunnydale gang launched into their twenty-year reunion.


5984681Icon from [livejournal.com profile] dance_the_dance
Fandom:  Battlestar Galactica
Pairing:  Kara/Sam
Rating: T, sex and death implied, no other warnings
Word count: 166

“Hey, hey,’ Sam whispered, “it’s okay, you’re okay.” He wrapped his arms around Kara and shook her gently. She stilled, let out a breath, then pushed him off, rolling sharply out of the bunk to her feet. Sam looked up at her shape in the dim light, blinking, as she pulled a t-shirt off the hook—his—and slipped it on. “Hey,” he said again.

“What?” Even in the darkness he could see her defiance.

“There’s nothing wrong with having nightmares, we all have ‘em. And—“ he paused, “You lost someone out there today, it’s okay if you can’t just shake that off.” She let out a bark of maybe-laughter. “Nah, it’s not that, I’m just goin’ to the shower.” Swiftly she leaned down and planted a kiss, and then she was gone.

Sam rolled to his back. Yeah, shower, best place for a good hysterical breakdown. Done it many times himself. He scrubbed his hands over his face and tried to will himself to sleep.

1262896Icon from [livejournal.com profile] entwashian
Fandom: Murder She Wrote, Remington Steele, Veronica Mars, Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries, others implied.
Rating:  G, no warnings, but somewhere between RPF and AU
Word count: 222

Phryne Fisher looked happily around the table and the room, enjoying the wonderful assortment of women of all ages and—seemingly—eras. This was her first time attending the International Conference of Women in Television Mystery, and it was an absolute blast. Next to her, Laura Holt had been pointing out women at different tables, making her feel quite at home, and she had already won the “came the furthest” prize which the trip to Chicago even more worthwhile. She leaned across the table as she heard Veronica Mars turn to Jessica Fletcher and ask, “So in all your years, what was the hardest thing about being a woman detective on TV? Was it the long hours? All the costume changes? And how about the sexism?”

Jessica looked at her benignly, then cast a glance around the table of renowned women who awaited the words of one of the most venerated among them.

“Well, my dear,” she said, “if you really want to know…It was all the horrible cups and glasses of colored water we had to drink, take after take after take. Just awful. I hope for you younger set, they’ve improved that!” She lifted her wine glass and took a healthy swig. “At least THIS is real,” she crowed, as the women around her raised their glasses and laughed and cheered along.
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