Annoyances

[tanarill]

Such as when, for example, your Intarwebz spontaneously stop working? Those are annoying.

And I missed two days. Waah. Not like anything occurred during those two days except I had some bad yogurt and was subsequently very Sick. Not really very fun at all . . .

Anyway. There are thoughts percolating in my brain, but I feel like kicking the bunnies into action. So. Further prompting: Give me a character/pairing and a verb. Go!

And a big happy welcome for all of you here from worlds_finest.

Comments

[theclexfactor.livejournal.com]

Bruce/Clark: wash

[tanarill.livejournal.com]

Bruce didn't wash the suit. It wasn't exactly the most washable of materials anyway, with its high-tensile polymers, which tended to degrade when exposed to sunlight or water, and steel-reinforced molded plates. Instead, he wore layers of undersuit padding, which also helped cushion his altogether-too-numerous falls. He wore the suit, anyway, until it wore out or he came up with a better design, whichever came first.

Clark didn't wash the uniform. He gave it to the Fortress, and from there he forgot about it. There would be another uniform ready when he needed it, which was generally immediately after he dumped the first one. The design didn't change much, though; it didn't have to. As long as the uniform could take whatever punishment he put it through, he didn't much care.

At some point, Bruce had figured this out, and asked for a Superman uniform.

"Why?" asked Clark with a grin. "Do you want to play dress up?"

Bruce hadn't been thinking about that. Now he was.

But, despite the fact that his heartrate had just shot up, he said with every semblance of calm, "I want to do some analysis on it. Find out what it's made of."

" . . . cloth?" suggested Clark.

"Yes, but cloth that doesn't get brittle at three degrees Kelvin, does not spontaneouly combust at several thousand degrees Kelvin, doesn't show bullets bouncing off of it, sheds water as easily as it sheds anything else they throw at you, and never even wrinkles." Bruce had his heartrate back down. "Think of what I could do with a suit made out of something like that."

Clark thought in predictably straight lines. "Nearly die less often," he said.

Which was why, several weeks later, Batman was trying out this new version of the suit. It was still heavier and more layered than Superman's, but it was made out of essentially the same material, backed up by steel but still lighter and more flexible. He kept taking notes on the ways he was overcompensating for weight and armor that wasn't there, thinking of ways to improve it-this was the first iteration, after all-and adjusting to the fact that this cape wasn't just flame-retardant. And, as far as Batman ever did, had fun with it.

"Well?" asked Clark, when he returned to the cave several hours later, after stopping armed robberies and assisting with a building that probably had not caught on fire by accident.

"I thought of a few modifications," said Bruce, which probably meant he'd redesigned it from the ground up based on what he'd learned. "And-a question?"

"Hm?"

"How do you wash this thing?"

[bradygirl_12]

Well, I'm not sure of the pairings you write, so to be safe, I shall request Clark/Bruce. :)

Prompt? How about hungry? As to what they're hungry for, I leave that to you! ;)

[tanarill.livejournal.com]

I'm . . . fairly sure that hungry is not a verb. Fairly.

[bradygirl_12]

Does 'eat' qualify? ;)

[tanarill.livejournal.com]

Eat does indeed qualify.

Also, for future reference, you can ask for any pairing you want. I'll just tell you to choose something else if that's not a Thing I do.

***

"That's disgusting," said Clark, staring at the screen in horrified fascination.

"It's no worse that escargots," said Bruce, reasonably, and Clark also felt it because he was currently using Bruce's chest as a pillow.

Clark made a face. "That's also disgusting."

"Clark. I have seen you eat raw octopus tentacle." Bruce was petting his hair gently.

"Yes, but octopus is not a giant bug." And he'd really liked the kappa maki better.

"Lobster is. Shrimp aren't even very large bugs."

"Fine. Grub, then. It's disgusting."

"If it's what nature provides . . . "

You're not going to give this up, are you?" asked Clark. Onscreen, the commentary had moved on to ice cream. In a bun.

"You aren't allowed to complain about something until you've tried it," said Bruce. Clark sighed. Using his own arguments against him was one thing, but using it to suggest that he copy the grub-eating habits of certain islanders?

"Or," he suggested, deliberately breathing out two-tenths of a degree cooler than the surrounding atmosphere, "we could contemplate other foods altogether."

Bruce's hand tightened in his hair. "Oh?"

"I'm partial to chocolate-covered you. Or sweat covered. Or nothing-at-all covered . . . "

"Hmm." Bruce shifted and leaned and kissed him, really overly chastely, on the forehead. Clark moved to capture his lips, and after that they both kind of ignored the television in the background.

[bradygirl_12]

Heh, this was fun!

And I agree with Clark. Chocolate-covered Bruce, or sweat-covered, or nothing-at-all-covered is the finest food of all! ;)

[reecey-boy.livejournal.com]

Bruce/Clark: suppurate

Have fun!

Part the Fisrt

[tanarill.livejournal.com]

Okay, I have to say, that's a new word. Let's see if I got it right.

***

Alien planets, okay.

Alien planets like Virginia in the summer? Uncomfortable, but doable.

Alien planets like Virginia in the summer that they are trapped on until such time as someone feels like coming to pick them up?

"Think of it as a vacation," said Kent. Of course, he would say that.

"I don't take vacations," he growled.

"I know," said Clark humorlessly. "But you're going to take one now. The Javelin has supplies for a week, two if we stretch it. So you can take a bit to relax."

"Uh-huh," said Batman, and pushed past him to get to the console. He didn't like Kent, but he did respect the man. In a way. It's just . . .

It's just that sometimes (all the time), Kent really gets on his nerves.

He pulls up his latest case, and gets to work.

The situation was not really better three days later. He'd solved, or nearly solved, all the case files he'd brought along. There were some people with whom he was going to have a chat when they got home. And in the meantime, there was plenty of xenoflora to document. The fact that it all seemed to be various versions of 'tree' or 'vine' notwithstanding.

"No flowers at all," Kent was saying. "I checked for miles."

Also, Batman was worried. Not so much about the lack of flowers-after all, flowering plants had evolved relatively late in earth's history-but in the fact that there didn't seem to be much of anything to eat the plants. Or anything to eat those. "Any fauna?"

Kent shook his head. "Nothing larger than a bacteria. I'm not flying that low again. I kept getting dripped on."

Batman swung around to look at him. "Dripped on."

"Tree sap. Kind of sticky when it dries." He scratched his arm almost absentmindedly. "I did find some things that look like they might be fruit, though."

"Did you bring a sample?"

"Of course," and Kent holds out a-

Cross between a lima bean and a termite egg. It's visibly pulsing.

"It wasn't doing that before," says Kent stupidly.

Then it. The operative word is probably 'explodes,' except the yellowish liquid really gives the impression of, for example, lancing a boil. Kent, thankfully, seems to have shielded him from the worst of it.

"Well, that was unpleasant," he says, looking at the pulpy remains in his hand. "I'm going to go wash."

He nods. There is, at least, always plenty of water, because the air conditioning units were designed for someplace less humid. Like, say, the Amazon basin.

Kent hasn't moved.

"Kent?"

Kent is kind of . . . staring at him like he's something new and entirely unexpected. And then he makes a kind of small sound, at the back of his throat, like a cross between a whimper and a growl, and . . .

That's about the point he notices that Kent's pupils are not merely dilated but completely blown, and his chest is moving far too fast for normal breath and, probably, if he checked, he'd find that Kent is far too warm. He has just enough time to reach for the lead-lined pocket on his belt, get the kryptonite out, and then Kent is on him.

Licking him, and ripping up the suit to expose more skin, and he doesn't seem to be reacting or even registering the kryptonite at all until he blacks out completely.

Batman crawls out from under him. And gets to work, starting with what was in that pod.

Part the Second

[tanarill.livejournal.com]

Later, he explains.

"So it's a drug," says Kent, when he finishes. "Like . . . alcohol."

Kent has never been drunk in his life. "Something like that. Fast-acting."

"That only works on me," says Kent.

"Yes, well. Earth proteins are mostly right-handed isomers, but you can process the left-handed ones as well."

"O-kay. Why did it do that?"

"Because it's a digestive enzyme."

Kent blinks. "A what?"

"A digestive enzyme," he repeats. "It's meant to break down certain chemicals. That altered your brain chemistry radically, but I'm working under the assumption that those same or similar chemicals are somewhat more important to life here."

"Oh." Kent appears to be thinking, and then says, for the umpteenth time, "I'm really sorry."

"Tell me, Kent," he says, not looking. "Why did you use the analogy of alcohol?"

"Because it-because given what I know about alcohol, that's the closest thing that cames to mind. Causes lack of coordination, poison in large quantities-"

"Loss of inhibitions?"

"I-yes." Kent is very carefully not looking at him.

He nods, once. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay. Just . . . don't rip up my suit again. And when we get home, come over for dinner. Alfred likes to cook for people. Robin will be happy to see you. Bring flowers."

"I-flowers?"

"And I'm never letting you chose where to go on vacation ever again."

Re: Part the Second

[reecey-boy.livejournal.com]

*Applaudes* You successfully managed to write a sexy piece based on one of the most disgusting words I could think of.

I take my hat off to you.

Re: Part the Second

[tanarill.livejournal.com]

Do I get to keep the hat?

More importantly, is it a stylin' cat-in-the kind of hat?

I am glad you liked it.

Re: Part the Second

[reecey-boy.livejournal.com]

No, you don't get to keep the hat. But you can have a nice rug from Ikea with a bug in it. I hear it's rather comfortable in there.

[yaoiloverrichan.livejournal.com]

Clark/Bruce: Roller Coastars

[tanarill.livejournal.com]

Roller Coasters is probably not a verb either.

[(Anonymous)]

Hm hm hm... The how about... Singing? xD I'm sure at least ONE of them could sing...if they tried. ...REALLY hard.

[yaoiloverrichan.livejournal.com]

Dangit. >< Sorry, that is me. Forgot I wasn't logged in.

[tanarill.livejournal.com]

Is okay. You are human.

Um. I hope you're human. Please tell me you're human.

Is it sad that this is the first thing that came to mind when you asked for singing?

***

Zatanna was, when you got right down to it, a mean drunk. A very mean drunk, and combined with the fact that she'd been there while Bruce was learning to escape anything and everything anyone could throw at him . . .

"Okay, so. This is his first attempt to undo that particular knot while at the same time making it look like he hasn't, right? And he can undo it in his sleep by now. But he messes up on the first pull, so what he gets is the doubled-up form of the knot instead." She laughs. "And it's a binding knot so he goes to take a step, expecting it to fall open when he does, only it doesn't, and he falls flat on his face." She laughs again.

. . . Bruce is going to kill him.

"And he'd tired himself up," he says, taking a sip of the wine and tasting the alcohol in the moment before his system burns it.

"Yeah. The look on his face-"

"I can imagine." And he really can, because for all the good Batman does, for everything he is, there's still the fact that he is fundamentally damaged. He doesn't accept anything less than perfect, in himself or in others, and. And. It would've been a look of anger, at himself, and hurt-wounded-pride, and something that made people want to help. And he would've gotten up and done it again, and again, until it was perfect.

She takes another drink. She doesn't drink much, because-well, when you have that kind of power, any possibility of losing control isn't just about you anymore. But she does, on occasion (like celebrating the recent marriage of a certain two teammates, even if it is possibly the strangest couple ever) she will let loose. "And then there was that time-" she stops.

"What time?" he asks.

"Oh, no," she laughs. "I promised him I'd never tell anyone."

"Zatanna-" He's leaning on her. He's leaning on her and he's not being fair in the least, but Bruce isn't even here, and he can deal with it when it happens.

It doesn't take much cajoling, anyway. Within a remarkably short time, he's hearing about the time Circe turned Diana into a pig-which more than explains why he'd want no one to know about this particular misadventure-and.

"Singing? Really?"

"Really," she says. "And you wouldn't believe it to listen to him, but he's got a bee-you-tee-full singing voice." She pronounces the syllables distinctly. "I mean, knock-'em-dead."

"I'm not sure I believe you," he says, mostly because the mental image of Batman standing in a night club and singing is. It's.

"Oh, believe it, boy scout." She finishes her drink-it had been one of those drinks with an extra fruits salad for no really apparent reason-and stands up. "And speaking of singing . . . " In the background, a slightly-less-than-totally-sober Black Canary is singing, which is unfortunate to say the least.

"All right," he says, and watches Zatanna sashay off into the increasingly rowdy crowd.

"Singing?" he repeats to himself, and shakes his head. Absolutely not.

But he'd ask. Later. Just in case.

[yaoiloverrichan.livejournal.com]

...XD We are so thinking on the same wavelength! That's where I got my idea! From that episode! XDDD I LOVE YOU FOR THIS. Thank you! XDD

[violent-giggles.livejournal.com]

THREESOME THREESOME THREESOME.


Sorry, was I a bit weird there?

Um, Bruce/Clark/Diana: ( I was going to go with 'dancing' but that seemed easy and a bit cliched ), so... destroying.

[tanarill.livejournal.com]

Just a little bit odd, yes. But it's okay. We're all crazy here.

***

It is really not, when you get right down to it, any kind of difficult for three determined people-ordinary people, not even people like them-to get rid of . . .

And there's the difficulty. It's too easy, especially for people like them.

But.

It's their planet, and it's their planet, and even if it isn't (necessarily) where they were born, or even evolved, it is where they belong. And that means that no one, nothing, is going to hurt it while they remain to protect it.

It doesn't matter that it's an alien fleet coming out of whatever form of hyperspace they use so far away from their home that you can't even see their galaxy from here. It's just . . . a threat. An obstacle. Press there, pull here, and the entire blunt, ugly ship goes flying into another one of their blunt, ugly ships and-

The rest of the fleet is turning, the tiny (in comparison) fighters have stopped even trying to engage the small, black, angular ship, because he's better than them and they know it now, too. They've stopped firing on her, because they've noticed that nothing short of a mass driver is going to get to her, and she's throwing everything right back at them. The fleet is turning, trying to run, and if they had faster (better) engines, they might be able to do it without losing another few fighters in the time it takes to do.

They don't follow. Most of the nearer systems know it's a bad idea to try taking this planet already, and informing the ones who don't is. Well. They had an entirely new kind of drive, which only works for hopping really incredible distances, but it takes nearly no time. So maybe they will go home and tell their people not to try again.

Or maybe they will come back in force, and the three of them will have to take the ship they've captured and dissected and rebuilt with all the protective anger they can, between the three of them, muster, and explain to the leaders why, exactly, trying to take the Earth is a bad idea.

Maybe dismantle an empire.

Or maybe not.

[genclay.livejournal.com]

Clark/bruce: Enticing

[tanarill.livejournal.com]

Bruce Wayne wore business suits all the time. So did Clark Kent, although of a different and altogether more casual bent. Still. It wasn't like he wasn't used to seeing Bruce in a suit.

It was just, well.

Bruce in a suit was one thing.

Bruce getting out of said suit was another.

He hasn't realized he's doing it. Clark is sitting on the bed-he's still not sure enough of them yet to call it their bed-and watching his (lover) boyfriend stop being Bruce Wayne and start being Batman. It's really. It is fascinating, in the same way that maybe watching an actor getting out of costume, out of roll, would be interesting.

Clark swallows.

"And-do you remember those explorer robots, from the first time we met?" Bruce shrugs off the jacket, and asks, "Kent?"

"Oh-ah. Yes. How could I forget? The Joker tied Mercy up with a huge chunk of-"

"Kryptonite, yes. Well, anyway. The contract we have specifically stated that he couldn't do something like that without my permission. And I made sure to have my people on the ground there first-" nimble fingers, undoing the row of buttons "-because I'd paid for half that facility." Really, really slowly. "Kent, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," says Clark. "Go on, please."

An oddly intense look, even for Bruce. "So. My guys recovered the weaponized models, the ones you didn't blow up, and of course Bruce Wayne was horrified. I sued."

It takes Clark, who had been watching the play of muscles under Bruce's tight undershirt, a moment to process. Then he says, "You sued Luthor?"

"For the entire cost of his half of the production, and full access to any and all files he had from his illegal side experiments." Pause, in which Bruce stripped off the shirt in one smooth movement. "And, don't tell anyone, but my lawyers tell me it's really very likely that I'm going to win."

"Think you're going to get it all?" asked Clark, wetting his very dry lips.
"Not a chance. But I'll get enough. And, more to the point, we pull one more or Luthor's claws." He walks over to Clark and smiles the really-not-nice-at-all smile that's pure Batman.

The one that is all predator and grace and intent.

"Bruce . . . " says Clark, uncertainly. He. He is learning how to hear the words Bruce isn't saying, but he still isn't-Bruce can still confuse him. Easily.

He is right now.

"Yes?" asks Bruce.

"I-may I-"

"Clark."

And the thing about superspeed, aside from everything else about superspeed, is-

Well, he has plenty of time to decide to do it, and then to surge at Bruce, and allow the momentum of the tackle to carry them both across the room. But to Bruce, there couldn't have been any time at all between him telling him to spit it out and being pinned to the wall and really very thoroughly kissed.

Not that he seemed to mind.

[(Anonymous)]

Bruce/Clark Super-Cuddles

[draqonelle.livejournal.com]

This was Liz or Draq. You are such a cool author

[tanarill.livejournal.com]

Verb. It's what you do.

[(Anonymous)]

Super-cuddling then? Hee hee It is like an embarassment of riches. I did enjoy your other drabbles so much and will definitely reciprocate when I do my own drabble fest.

And if super-weaving is a verb, i think their must be super-cuddling!

[tanarill.livejournal.com]

Bruce is . . . restless is probably the right word, except that it completely isn't. Clark wonders briefly if the is a right word, in any terran language. There is probably a word in the dead language of the planet of his birth for it, but he doesn't particularly feel like searching for it.

The point is that Bruce is, even after all this time, not entirely sure that this is not some kind of cruel cosmic joke played out on him, and that one day he's going to come to his senses and leave. Never mind that 'coming to his senses' had involved him arriving. It's just something else about Bruce that he has learned to accept, like the way that-

Bruce is shuddering, coming down from whatever it is he feels when he lets Clark-unbend him. Not entirely, never entirely, but enough so that Clark can find one of those dark and needy places and fill it, with love and trust and love. Clark pulls him in closer, kisses the back of his neck and murmurs endearments.

This is because if he didn't, Bruce would try to run away again, try to forget the. He's never quite sure if it's a catharsis or not, but he thinks maybe it's something like an incredibly good Turkish massage, the kind that bends muscles in ways they've forgotten they can move and hurts and hurts until all the aches and pains are gone. Anyway. He's learned that he can't let Bruce go anywhere, not even in his head, until it's had time to . . . settle. Become real.

Bruce pushes somewhat uselessly against his arm.

"Stay," says Clark, and it only sounds like a request.

"I have work to do."

"It can wait."

"Clark-" and he's feeling naked and exposed in more ways than just the literal.

"It can wait," he repeats, and kisses Bruce again. And again. And moves his other arm, the one that was comfortably under Bruce's torso, to pet him. "Just stay."

Bruce makes this noise, one of his hurt little I-love-you noises, and pushes back against his chest. Hums, not precisely happily, but . . .

Possibly the word is content. Allowing himself to believe, for just this moment, that the arms around him are just this real and totally unlikely to ever disappear. Allowing himself to believe, however briefly, in the truth.

[slvrbld747.livejournal.com]

Clark/Bruce -Mating.

Grins, love to see what you do with that. Erotica, anyone? -SB

[tanarill.livejournal.com]

Well, erotica takes more time. But.

Here's me playing with Kryptonian biology.

***

"Bruce, I-"

"I'm working."

"I can see that. I need a favor."

"A favor." Batman slid back from the microscope and looked up.

"Yes. Um. Kind of an important one."

Bruce waited. And waited. And, when Clark didn't continue, rumbled, "Yes?"

Clark took a deep breath. "I need you to mate with me."

Silence. And then, "I don't appreciate interruptions in my work for jokes."

"No joke. It's-a Kryptonian thing."

"Clark."

Clark sighed. "Yeah, I know. It's just . . . kind of embarrassing. I'm about to hit sexual maturity, and-"

"You aren't sexually mature?"

"I can father children, if that's what you mean. But I'm . . . even if there were any Kryptonian females unrelated to me, none of them would touch me. I haven't gone through Zharren yet. I'm about to, that's why I'm-"

"Zharren. Explain."

"It's when a male reaches. I guess you'd call it maturity, although it's mostly just a hormone shift. It's accompanied by more aggressive behavior and a rather-important-biological imperative to fight with other males until a kind of pack order is established. On Krypton, an older male would generally be assigned to. The word used is rennit, but-"

"Tame?" An eyebrow went up.

Clark, already pink, turned magenta. "Yes, but. Establishing dominance in very physical. So . . . mating."

"Wait, you need me to be there for some Kryptonian posturing."

"Um. Yes? Look, it's not just 'my stick is bigger,'" explained Clark desperately. "The more dominant older males kept the younger ones in check until Zharren finished, because if they didn't, the younger ones would . . . "

"Clark?"

"Rape. Pretty much anyone who came near them. The texts describe it as, to translate roughly, 'the desperate urge for contact, the need to feel, so strong that it forces one to seek out the most intimate contact from anyone who becomes available. Willing or not, so long as they are over the age of Elhen.' I don't. I won't. Be that-"

"You want me to act as your . . . alpha male, because you're going into heat?"

Clark shook his head. "Not going into heat. I've done that before."

"Gone into heat."

"Yes."

"When?"

"Every eight and a half months since I hit puberty?" Clark looked faintly quizzical. "Look, when I go into heat is not the question. The question is if would you be my mate for Zharren?"

" . . . why me?"

"Because you're pretty much the only person who I could ask. And expect to be able to-gentle me."

"Clark, I'm flattered, but. You'd punch me through a wall."

"No, I wouldn't. I."

"Yes?"

"I wouldn't."

" . . . okay."

[slvrbld747.livejournal.com]

OMG! Squees with laughter. This was so funny and intriguing. You really ran with that idea. I would love to see the erotica portion but to tell you the truth I'm more fascinated by the concepts behind the whole thing. So how does the fact that it's Batman work? Chuckles, Superman just couldn't tell him he was totally in love with Bruce, the big doofus. Thank you for this it was awesome. -SB

[tanarill.livejournal.com]

Honestly, the line about Clark going into heat once every eight and a half months since he hit puberty showed up first. The rest was just context. I didn't even realize it was for you until halfway through writing it.

And there are porn-y thoughts kicking about my brain. You may get your erotica after all. No promises, though.

[ragtime-wurm.livejournal.com]

Wow, people really like you on that comm. :D

How about Mustrum Ridcully/Granny Weatherwax, cast? Or if you want to stay on track with the rest, I'd like to see your take on the Duo's reaction Vlad, with a prompt of sway.

[tanarill.livejournal.com]

"What're you doing here?" Granny Weatherwax asked.

"Oh," Ridcully seemed a little off-balance to see her. "Just passing through. Horse cast a shoe, so we're here at least overnight."

"We?"

"The Librarian's here too. Or . . . was. Probably up in a tree somewhere."

"You mean that hairy fellow. The or-ang-u-tan. You know, some people might find it a bit rude, turning into a monkey."

"Ape."

"What?"

"Orangutans are definitely apes. Not monkeys."

"What's the difference?"

Ridcully opened his mouth, then quickly closed it and stepped back as the Librarian swung himself down from a tree. He liked Granny, but not that much. Really not that much.

"Ook," said the Librarian, nearly calmly.

"Oh. Really?"

***

Yeah, not so much about the cast, but fun to write. I like the Librarian :)

[ragtime-wurm.livejournal.com]

I don't mind, cast was only a prompt. And I wonder at the horse casting its shoe so near to her village. XD

[tanarill.livejournal.com]

Are you suggesting that Ridcully would ever do anything like causing a horse to cast a shoe just as they pass through Bad Ass?

[ragtime-wurm.livejournal.com]

No, no, of course not! I'm not saying that anyone caused the horse to cast a shoe, least of all Ridcully! ;D