(and thank you for the catch)
1. Write down the names of 10 characters.
2. Write a fic of fifteen words or less for every prompt, using the characters determined by the numbers. Do NOT read the prompts before you do step 1.
3. Or more than fifteen words, if you roll that way.
1. Ria Torres
2. John Amsterdam
3. U.Skinwalker (Dresden Files: birds of a feather)
4. Cal Lightman
5. Dexter Morgan
6. Dani Reece
7. Amita Ramanujan
8. Harry Dresden
9. Ancient Mai
10. Eva Marquez
1. AU - 5 & 9 - Dexter and Mai
2. Dark - 4 & 3 - Lightman and the Skinwalker (oh good, I was hoping to write them together anyway)
3. Threesome - 5, 7 & 1 - Dexter, Amita, and Torres
4. Amnesia - 2 & 10 - Amsterdam and Eva (she just can't get rid of him, it seems)
5. Hurt/Comfort - 8 & 6 - Dani and Dresden
6. Crackfic - 9 & 4 - Lightman and Maia
7. Genderswap - 2 & 6 - Amsterdam and Dani
8. First Time - 2 & 7 - Amsterdam and Amita (there will be crack in this)
9. Angst - 3 & 8 - Dresden and the Skinwalker
10. Babyfic - 1 - Torres
My name is Harry Dresden. And when Morgan tells me to do something, I do it - because I know one day, Morgan won't be here any more - and then I'll have to work with Dexter, the 2nd In Command among Ancient Mai's enforcers. I don't look forward to that day, 'cause he gives me the creeps.
No idea where he came from. 'I found him in blood,' is the most I ever got out of Mai, and that was when she owed me her life.
"Don't make me take your face off," she warned him.
"Well until you do, I'm using it," Lightman replied.
"I imagine it would be fun to walk around with your hide."
"I don't know, its not all sunshine and lollipops for me."
"What now?" Dexter asked as he, Amita, and Eva all stood on their knees on the bed.
The three of them looked at one another.
Amita bit her lip, trying to work out what they should do and in what order.
"I'll lead," Eva said at last, figuring that it was better than painful chaos.
"I forgot," Eva said, apologetic.
"It's all right," John said, caressing her hand.
It had all started with a ricochetting bullet that did damage to Eva's brain, effecting and affecting her mind. 'Not the normal amnesia,' the doctors had said.
And, in a moment at once desperation and weakness and loneliness he'd rather not measure, Johann Van Der Zee told her that he was four hundred years old - and she was likewise undying.
There were slip-ups, like just now, where Eva got historical details wrong, proving she couldn't have been there. But having stepped onto this course, and with no way off for Eva, Amsterdam wasn't abandoning her.
"Ow, ow, ow," Dresden said as he and Dani limped into his home, each supporting the other, practically a cross-brace the two of them, they were leaning so.
"They barely shot you," Dani said as Dresden helped her onto the couch while he went for the First-Aid kit his father had always told him to hang onto.
"It still hurts...and there's the empathy factor," Dresden told her as he hobbled back over, medicine in hand.
Dani rolled her eyes, hoping this guy wasn't going to be too much like Crews.
Dresden resolved to find out just where Marcone's new rivals were getting empathicness coated on their bullets. "I've never really done this before, so let me know if I'm doing it wrong... You're very brave," as he started to pat her lower calf with the towel.
Dani was about to say something, but then kept her mouth shut. Nah. And not just because of his hands on her calf.
"C'mon, c'mon," Cal encouraged.
"No," Mai told him with what anyone who knew her would've called an alarming lack of underlying violence in her tone.
"C'mon, fer me?" as they lay here in the predawn minutes of a new day.
Mai sighed and let her face ripple.
"God I love when you do that," Cal said.
In a New York City police station, introductions were being made. "Jane Amsterdam," Jane said, a cop in this latest try at life in her fourth century of life.
"Dan Reece," Dan said, on loan to the FBI for this case; he tried not to imagine what Crews was doing back in California.
John broke the news right after another particularly satisfying kiss.
"What?" Amita asked, drawing her head back. "That's not possible."
"It has to be possible," he said. "It happens to me."
Firmly and drawing strength from herself, Amita said, "No, no it can't be. You introduced me to your son. I saw the graves of your great-grandchildren."
"So how can this be your first time?" Amita asked.
John shrugged. "Same way I don't keep bullet wounds - my body resets every now and again."
Amita sighed. "Fine, I'll be gentle."
Bob didn't understand, Dresden figured.
"She nearly flayed you alive, Harry," Bob said.
"She wouldn't have hurt me," Harry said. "Well, not beyond what she already did."
"We didn't know that at the time - you didn't know that."
"I do now. And..."
Seeing the look on Harry's face, Bob made a disgusted noise and left via the wall.
Rocking in the chair at home alone, Ria sat alone for the umpteenth evening in a row. No, not entirely alone - there was a bulge in a place that left only one interpretation.
She could hear the conversation already, 'Who's the father?' Gillian would ask. 'There is none, there never was,' Ria would reply, words insufficient to convey it - though there was a chance Cal would say 'What, immaculate conception?'
And he'd have every right to sound skeptical and humorous - he'd see the skepticism I have for my own words, Ria knew.
Picking up another book from the shelf, "How about a little Castle now?" she asked, and felt a tiny kick in reply.