elayna: (Die Hard John-Matt)
Something I meant to mention about the show we saw Saturday... they ended with "Old Time Rock'n'Roll," which was very appropriate for the sentiment, though wrong for the decade (a 70s song instead of 50s and 60s like the rest).

But then I was walking out and thinking of Bob Seger. Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band. And why the Silver Bullet Band? How did that name come about? What is killed with silver bullets? Werewolves.

Then I decided Bob Seger was secretly a hunter, and subtly used the name of his band as a signal to connect with other hunters, as he and his band traveled the country, singing rock'n'roll and killing evil monsters. In fact, when he became less popular, it would be even better for his hunting business, as he'd be playing smaller cities, the type of obscure places where monsters were more likely to hide.

It gave a whole new meaning to songs like "Lock and Load" and "16 Shells from a Thirty-Ought Six."

*cackles*

Not that I know anything about Bob Seger or like RPF, but a grizzled rock'n'roller with a double life (and a double barrel shotgun) amused me.
elayna: by casset (McKay the man the myth)
Dad and I had dinner last night at the Hof Brau. We got our prime rib dinners and went looking for seats, as it is a 'sit-yourself' place. I noticed a young man, seated by himself in a booth for six. I thought it was strange that someone would pick such a large booth to eat alone. Something in the way he hunched over, eating really hungrily, made me think of Rodney McKay.

So Rodney would be seated by himself because he'd be waiting for someone, and he wouldn't wait for the others to arrive, because he'd be hungry and his blood sugar was low. He'd be waiting for John, of course. Would he know John or would this be a first meeting? Would he expect John to be alone? He wouldn't know for sure, that's why he choose a large booth.

Dad and I got seated and I could see two guys in the booth behind Dad, a guy in his 30s and another in his 50s. They'd finished eating and were just sitting there, looking ahead. They weren't even drinking beer. 'Cuz clearly, they were Rodney's protection detail, sitting a discreet distance away. Did Rodney know they were there? Yeah, Rodney was counting on them. The older guy talked on his cell phone for a while, just ignoring the younger guy, which I thought was rude, then got off the phone and they both went back to staring. Protection guys get used to being bored.

Dad and I talked a bit and I realized at some point all three guys had gone. I missed Rodney's meeting with John! Or maybe John hadn't shown and Rodney gave up on him? He hadn't actually eaten early, he'd waited a while, though letting his security guys go ahead, and then got too hungry to wait any longer.

I mentioned to Dad the two guys just staring without even drinking and Dad prosaically pointed out they were probably watching the football on the TV behind me. No! I'm sure they were Rodney's protectors.

Anyway, it was entertaining. And great prime rib.
elayna: (Person of Interest)
Purging away! I'm moving this puppy out of my Projects In Process folder and into Abandoned. Posting for anyone interested or who might find it inspirational. I still like the basic idea, but I won't write it.

abandoned bunny, Hawaii 5-0/Person of Interest crossover )
elayna: (McShep smart and hot)
I was wrapping presents, listening to favorite music, and letting my mind wander, and Will Smith's Men In Black came on. That song always makes me think of how hot Rodney and John would look as men in black, with the suits and the sunglasses, but somehow Rodney as a coroner never quite works for me. (Wait, now I'm all confused, because Will Smith's character isn't a coroner, why have I been picturing Rodney should replace the coroner in the movie? It's been too long since I've seen it. There is a coroner who keeps getting zapped, right?) But anyways! Finally, it was... oh! that's the way it should start.

goofing around, McShep )
elayna: (Die Hard John-Matt)
We saw the Manhattan Transfer last week, which was a fabulous show. While watching, I was trying to fanfic it, which wasn't working well. I'm not a quartet person. Then for some reason, I thought that John McClane would be of an age to like their music. And his mother too. Mom would buy tickets for her, him, and Matt, but John would ask Charlie, because he would expect Matt to be completely disinterested. Maybe Matt would totally regard them as old fogey music, but maybe Matt would be hurt to not even be asked. Maybe Matt would like the Manhattan Transfer, or at least, maybe their version of Twilight Zone, because that seems like an old show he might like. Then the show was over, so my mental musings ended with Matt pouting and John knowing he'd messed up.

When I got home, I watched some of their videos, including the one for Twilight Zone, which is absolutely hysterical, even to me, who would have found it cutting edge and cool at the time. Matt would indeed mock it so badly. So badly.

elayna: (Qui Obi OTP)
It's funny how things change in my mind. There's a blind guy at work, and for many years I've watched him and noted the little ways his reality differs from the depiction of blind people in the media. (So messy is his desk! He can't see it; he doesn't care. None of this 'everything absolutely must be in its place' stereotype.) And I often think there should be a blind!Obi story, where Qui watches him. Sometimes I think Qui is his boss, sometimes a co-worker, occasionally the person who accidentally blinded him. Very angsty and yearning.

Then last week, words started forming in my mind, which is when I actually write. But I'm not going to write this story, which no, is not a sekrit plea to be asked to write it, because only three people would read it anyway. And it's ridiculous, my angsty yearning mutated into the beginning of a reality show absurdity. How did that happen? )
elayna: (Default)
I can tell that if I try to make myself do the things I should be doing, I will play freecell for the rest of the night. So I'm giving myself 45 minutes to write toon crack. Follow-up from the other post.

I'm being so ridiculous, but I'm having fun )

And that was closer to an hour of silliness from out of nowhere, but I needed silliness tonight.
elayna: (H50 Steve-Danno love)
I was thinking about 'Who Framed Roger Rabbit?' a few days ago... "When are you going to get it through your thick skull that you are not a hero, you're just drawn that way?" Danny yelled at the toon, incensed that he'd once again had plunged into the midst of a gun battle and helped take down a killer with little regard for his own safety. "The Navy SEAL cartoons are over! You're retired!"

"I know," Steve said, definitely pouting. "That's why I live in Hawaii instead of Hollywood."

Danny felt a momentary flash of regret for raising the toon's retired status. Everyone knew that toons existed to entertain, which meant a toon without a cartoon series was... purposeless. He took a breath, calming himself. "I appreciate you want to help, but you've got to stop putting yourself in danger."

Steve gave that glare that had been so often seen on the big screen, full-out Navy SEAL about to go whompass on the enemy combatants, the serious glare that usually preceded miniature rockets bulging out of his eyes. "I can't be hurt, Danny, and you can."

"Of course you can!" Danny yelled, irked by Steve's obstinacy. "One of these days the bad guys are going to wise up and start carrying paint thinner!"

Danny's anger seemed to please Steve, who stepped closer, into Danny's personal space, and why had Danny never noticed how many colors swirled in his painted eyes? He would have said they were a deep blue, but up close he could see flecks of green and gray in them. "Are you worried about me?"

"Of course, I worry about you." Danny touched one of the bullet holes in his chest, feeling as the ink flowed under his fingers, reforming his tan t-shirt. "You're a citizen of the state of Hawaii and it's my *job* to protect *you.* Which I can't do if you keep putting yourself in harm's way and getting *shot.*"

"But I'm all healed now." Steve pulled up his shirt, revealing an absolutely perfect torso, a painted six-pack, a plentiful amount of body hair, and flat brown nipples. "See?"

Danny had never realized Steve's clothes were painted separately, but it stood to reason, since he'd worn many different types of camo and civilian clothes in his cartoons. His cock felt suddenly heavy as he wondered whether Steve's painter had been realistic about all his body. And if parts of his body other than his eyes formed into rockets. "Yes, I see," he said, mouth dry.

"Come to my place tonight," Steve urged, and somehow he'd gotten even closer, so close that they only needed to raise their arms and they'd be hugging. "Learn more about me and you'll see that I can help."

The way Steve's voice sounded, lower than normal, seductive and promising... in a human, that would be signalling interest of a purely prurient nature, which could explain why Steve kept appearing when Danny was in danger. It would be madness, insanity, to get involved with a toon. But it wasn't like Danny's marriage to a flesh-and-blood woman had been any example of a sterling and durable relationship. "Yes, okay. I'll come over after work," he promised, before raising a finger and pointing it at Steve's face. "But don't think you're going to change my mind. You're a civilian and civilians should stay out of police business."

Steve beamed his mega-watt smile, though thankfully stars didn't come spinning out of his eyes. "I'll see you then," he said, still grinning as he walked away and leaped into his military jeep, which promptly squealed its tires and took off, leaving behind a trail of fluffy clouds.

Banging the palm of his hand on his forehead, Danny cursed the entire state of Hawaii, hyperactive, noble toons, and the Hollywood executives who hadn't kept them employed.

"Time to get you a copy of 'Toons and the Humans Who Love Them', boss?" Kono asked, smirking. "I hear it's on the bestseller list."

"Two words," Danny told his team member, "patrol duty. It could be regarded as a criminal neglect of your career that you never had to do any."

Kono flashed another smile, but wisely switched the subject. "The perp's been read his rights and is ready for transport."

"Good. You and Chin take him to HPD and have them book him in."

With a nod, she strode off, as Danny headed toward his own car, wondering if such a book even existed. Maybe he'd stop by Barnes & Noble on the way back to HQ. He had a feeling that he could use any help he could get tonight.

^dies laughing^

ETA: Hit 'post' before I intended, as I could see company coming up the walk. It's funny, I thought that was going to be 3-4 throwaway lines (Danny's hands on Steve's surprisingly solid painted waist!) but it went differently, almost a little fic. My brain and my fingers occasionally feel like two different entities.
elayna: (Steve-Danno I don't think so baby)
Stray Kitty is at the vet's, getting his shots and chipped and altered, after which I headed to the backyard to turn dirt in preparation for planting lettuce-y things. And 'The Midnight Special' came on, which made me think of chain gangs. And Steve and Danny and that movie with Tony Curtis and Sidney Poitier and the Quantum Leap episode that was a take-off on it, and like I do...

Steve was glad that the doctor tied off the final stitch to close the cut over his eye just as he finished recounting the last few days of hell. He was exhausted, and knew that only the pain meds in his system were allowing him to stay upright. His body craved at least twelve hours of blissful, uninterrupted sleep, and hopefully he could get them soon. "And that's it," he said, his voice hoarse from talking. There had been a lot to say about the corrupt southern sheriff, his equally nasty deputies, and the chain gang prison farm they illegally operated.

The detective flipped his case book shut. "Seems pretty thorough. If you think of anything else, you let me know."

"Yeah." Steve nodded. He'd left out a few things though, like the feel of curling up next to Danny in a nest of leaves, trying to stay warm in the unexpectedly cold hours of the night, awkwardly jerking each other off as if the shivery heat of their orgasms was a promise that they'd manage to escape and survive. They'd been hampered by the handcuffs binding Steve's right hand to Danny's left, but that hadn't mattered next to the softness of Danny's lips and tongue, and the rasp of the stubble on his cheeks.

A knock sounded on the door, and a deputy stuck his head in. "Brought them clothes you asked for." He entered, dropping what looked like sweats and a pair of tennis shoes on a chair. "They're from my brother-in-law. He's about your size. Little bigger around the middle."

"They'll be fine, thank you." Steve could be polite now, civilized even. He didn't have to keep getting in the face of men in uniforms who were trying to break his resistance.

"Thanks, Otis," Detective Balsley added.

The deputy hovered. "I dropped some things off with the other guy too. He'll have to roll up the legs some."

"It'll be fine, Otis," the detective said patiently. "You can go now."

'The other guy' seemed such a prosaic description for Danny, the man who'd kept him alive when a routine stop for speeding led to Steve being framed for drug trafficking and summarily shanghaied to a prison run by a southern despot, one straight out of a bad B film. Only scarily real, and hellbent on crushing Steve's spirit, as he'd cowed all the other prisoners, except Danny. "What's going to happen to him?" Steve wasn't even sure what Danny had been imprisoned for, other than presumably assault, from his wry, "I have a bit of a temper." It seemed inconceivable that he'd have to return to prison now, even if it was a nicer, legally run one.

"Detective Williams? Back to New Jersey, I imagine."

"I'm sorry, what?" Steve said, jumping off the examining table, wincing as his cracked ribs reminded him that sudden movement was a bad idea. "Detective Williams?"

The detective looked surprised. "You didn't know? I guess he's good at keeping his cover. Yeah, the DA had thought something was wrong, asked a friend of his to check it out, and then couldn't get him out. It was a good thing you came by. I don't know how much longer he would have lasted."

"No, I didn't realize." Though so many contradictions made more sense now.

"Well, we'll leave you to get dressed." The three left, and Steve shoved off the blue hospital robe, dressing as quickly as his wounded body allowed. Otis's brother-in-law was considerably wider than Steve, especially with the weight loss from the last few days of barely eating, but fortunately the sweats had an elastic waist. The sneakers fit perfectly, even if they were a bit ratty. They were certainly better than the prison rags he and Danny had been wearing when they'd fled from their captors.

Steve pushed the door to the hospital room open, stepping into the hallway to see Danny leaning against the wall, talking on a cell phone. One arm was in a cast, and there was a brace around his tricky knee.

"Yeah, Monkey. I'm sorry, I won't disappear on you again. In fact, I'm going to come out to see you as soon as I can." Danny paused, listening to her response. "I hope next week, Monkey. Yeah, I'll call you after I've booked my flight. Danno loves you."

Just before they'd been rescued, they'd been pinned down, and had faced what they thought was the end. Steve had the handgun he'd taken from the deputy he'd strangled into unconsciousness, but only three bullets left. Danny had the stick he'd been using as a cane, both scant defenses against armed men with trained dogs. "Call me Danno," he'd said.

"Danno?"

"It's my daughter's name for me. I don't want to die without hearing it again."

"Danno," Steve had said softly. "Danno, we're going to make it."

"You are *insane,* Navy," Danny had said, but Steve had been right. They'd been rescued, and the bad guys had been arrested, and now both of them were free to return to their lives.

Danny slipped the phone into his pocket. He was dressed similarly to Steve, in borrowed sweats. "You don't look too bad," he said.

Steve rubbed his hand on his abdomen, feeling the binding around his ribs. "Only cracked." He cleared his throat. "You're going to visit your daughter, Detective?"

"Yeah. To hell with New Jersey. I'm going to transfer to the Hawaiian police force if they'll take me. I'm not living without seeing her regularly again."

"You said she lived in Oahu."

"Yeah." Danny pushed himself away from the wall, wincing as he straightened up. "That's where your dad lives, right?"

Steve curled his fingers around Danny's wrist, the one holding the cane. "I can help you pack up your place. We can fly out together." He'd been on his way home to Hawaii anyway, which Danny knew, only detouring through the south to visit a friend who'd been invalided out of the Navy. It seemed like fate that Danny's daughter had already moved to Hawaii.

Danny smiled, both with his eyes and his lips. "Did anyone ever tell you that you're kinda pushy, Navy?"

"Only you, Danno."

That earned Steve an actual laugh from Danny, completely different from the occasional bitter laugh he'd heard during their imprisonment and flight. "Come on." He started walking, swinging his cane first, bringing Steve's hand with him. "I want a dozen biscuits and gravy first, then about twelve hours of sleep, before we blow this pop stand."

Steve thought about noting the unhealthy nature of biscuits and gravy, but they were in a small southern town, where the grits were probably superb but the lettuce was only iceberg. "I could use some Spam," he said, as they stepped outside and into the bright sunlight.

*dies laughing*

Why am I writing endings these days? And now I need to plant my lettuce-y things.
elayna: (Steve-Danno love)
Title: All's Well That Ends Well
By: [livejournal.com profile] elayna88
Pairing: Steve McGarrett/Danny Williams
Rating: G
Archive: my site
Category: ficlet, first time
Summary: Inspired by the plot of "The Philadelphia Story" and "High Society." This is an ending to a longer, likely-to-never-be-written, story. You've been warned.
Word count: ~900
Disclaimer: Hawaii 5-0 does not belong to me, and no infringement is intended.


"You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," Danny said to Rachel, gazing at their reflections in the mirror. He thought he looked good in the black suit, but she was quite simply stunning in the designer wedding dress that cost more than the downpayment on their first house.

"Thank you, Daniel," she answered, adjusting her skirt slightly.

"You are beautiful, Mommy," Gracie agreed.

Danny patted Grace's shoulder, having been warned vociferously by Rachel that hugging his daughter was forbidden until after the pictures were taken. The flower girl's dress would not be wrinkled for all posterity. Rachel may still be a little bit bitter about some of the things his family had done in their wedding pictures. "You're adorable yourself, monkey."

"Excuse me."

Danny turned to look at the doorway, and there was perhaps the most good-looking one of them all.

"Commander McGarrett," Rachel greeted him, rather icily, not that Danny blamed her. It had been a wild three days during which Danny had learned many things. One, that the elegant wedding planner who had out-diva'd Rachel was in fact a nice, young ex-surfer turned cop with a mean right hook who looked particularly hot when kicking guys' legs apart and forcing them to the ground. Two, that the inscrutable minister given to bizarre fortune cookie sayings was in fact not perpetually high but instead also a cop. And hopefully now a minister by Internet, or he'd feel the wrath of Rachel even more than the inebriated Father O'Reilly had after their wedding.

Thirdly... thirdly was in a special category all by itself. Thirdly was that the aggressively irritating, herbal-cigarette chain-smoking 'society reporter' was in a fact a smooth-talking Naval intelligence officer, who was freaking hot in his dress blues, his hat tucked under his arm. And a really good kisser, as Danny had discovered around 3:00 am on the beach, as the reason for all the insanity was revealed and McGarrett's compatriots dragged people away to jail.

And fourthly, that he didn't mind Rachel remarrying. Not when he had a new job and a new partner that he was sure were going to occupy all his time.

"I understand that you're walking down the aisle alone." Steve shifted on his feet before straightening to military posture. "I would be honored if you would allow me to escort you."

"Considering the circumstances, it's the least you could offer," Rachel replied, "but Danny's already offered, and I've declined him too. I'm perfectly capable of walking a few feet by myself."

It was indeed the least McGarrett could offer, considering that he'd been the one to put cuffs on Rachel's father. Danny would always wonder if Rachel's background had helped doom their marriage. She'd wanted respectability, but even being a cop's wife wasn't enough to make up for relatives who practiced lock picking like other families played Monopoly.

Rachel checked her diamond-studded watch. "You two should sit down now. We'll be starting soon."

Danny gave his daughter a light tap on the shoulder, and air brushed a kiss on Rachel's cheek, before walking toward McGarrett. Steve curled his hand over Danny's, tangling their fingers together as they went past the bridesmaids waiting in the anteroom. The ladies didn't come close to Rachel, but they were beautiful too, in sapphire blue cocktail dresses with leis of white flowers around their necks, one of the few nods in the wedding arrangements to the Hawaiian location. Kono was even prettier with her hair slicked up. Thankfully she was the same size as Stan's cousin, because Rachel hated uneven numbers. Perhaps having black sheep in both of their families would be a bonding factor for Rachel and Stan.

They paused at the entrance to the hotel room where Rachel's cousin Edward was waiting to usher them to their chairs. "You pick a single pocket at the reception, you will learn the true power of the American Navy," Danny said quietly, conversationally, jerking his head at Steve. Eddie looked suitably impressed, but Danny would keep an eye on him. All of them. It was a good thing he didn't mind forgoing expensive champagne. He had a feeling that Steve would taste even better, later on tonight when the wedding was over and he could relax.

Chin Ho gave them a subtle nod as they walked down the aisle, which had better mean he'd gotten licensed. He was wearing a very restrained Hawaiian shirt, white flowers on a white background, only the silver outlines and soft green leaves making the pattern apparent, and black slacks.

"I'm being used to threaten the relatives already?" Steve asked softly as they sat down on the bride's side.

"It's part of the territory, if you get involved with a Williams," Danny said. "And since Gracie is a Williams, that includes Rachel and Stan's families."

Steve tangled their hands together again, this time palm to palm, the touch making Danny want to shiver. "I can handle that," he said.

~ the end ~

*dies laughing*
elayna: (Sherlock-Twilight)
Sometimes I wonder if I should admit how much the voices in my head amuse me... But so, I was organizing my video files, which meant watching a few Sherlock vids, and then, ya know...

"I suppose some of our cases do seem rather fantastical. I mean, a seven foot assassin named Gollum? It sounds like something made-up, doesn't it? Next we'll be solving a case with space aliens."

"Oh, I doubt it," Sherlock said absently, not looking up from his texting. "The wretched Americans keep the space aliens under control fairly well."

"Pardon me?" John asked. "What did you say?"

Now Sherlock glanced up. "I said the Americans keep the space aliens under control fairly well. Seriously, John, you're always nagging at me for not keeping up with current events. I thought you read the newspapers. And what it this 'our cases'?"

"I do read the newspapers." John stared at Sherlock, trying to decide if he was pulling his leg. Not that Sherlock was much a practical joker, but he'd certainly do it well if he did. "But the ones with space aliens in them don't seem very credible."

"It's not the ones with the space aliens in them." Sherlock sighed with impatience. "It's the ones that don't say anything about the space aliens."

"I see. Those papers. The ones that *don't* say anything about space aliens. Those are the ones that indicate space aliens exist. And, um, how many space aliens are there?"

"At least two major races that have tried to enslave our planet. Maybe a few more minor ones. It's a good thing the Americans like to spend money on secret military projects. And they seem to be marginally better at policing the universe than the world." Sherlock slipped his phone in his pocket as he stood. "Are you done with your tea? We - since it is apparently we now - have a new case."

"But not space aliens." John rose too, slurping down the last of his tea.

"No, a nice serial killer. Much more interesting." Sherlock shrugged into his long coat. "Oh, and John? Don't mention the space aliens in your blog."

"No?" John asked, surprised that Sherlock would want to censor him. Mostly he'd seemed to delight in correcting John's blog in the comments section.

"Yes, don't. I'd rather not have anyone in a military uniform on our doorstep."

"Yes, right," John agreed, even as he equivocated, "I'll think about that." John's therapist encouraged that he should be absolutely honest in his blog, which John was sure meant including oddities like Sherlock beliving in space aliens and being paranoid about an American conspiracy to hide their existence. Besides, it would make absolutely hysterical reading, and John had to admit he enjoyed the admiration that he received from recounting Sherlock's quirkiness.

A week later, when John opened the door to see two American colonels standing on the doorstep, he reminded himself that he really should learn to trust the smartest man in the world.

*dies laughing*
elayna: (Atlantis mystery tour)
Cynical and disillusioned John Sheppard makes his living calling bingo and hosting events on the luxury liner Atlantis, figuring he'd spend the rest of his life charming old biddies and taking nature hikes in the wilds of Alaska. But when grumpy and successful Dr. Rodney McKay is dragged on board for a 'real family vacation' by his sister, the scientist's blue eyes make John feel like life may have meaning again. But can a shipboard romance be the real deal, or will love sink like the fabled city once the cruise ends?

"The next is B4. That's B4. Like B4 I was a bingo caller, I was a Chippendale dancer." John smiled as an elderly woman gave a whoop. Why were the oldest ones always the loudest and raunchiest? The guy with the very blue eyes glared at her, making John wonder if he didn't like old people (which would be unfortunate, considering how many of them he'd be around for the next 13 days) or if he didn't like others admiring John.

He was probably being ridiculous to hope it might be the latter.

*dies laughing*

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