impromptu hugs comment fanwork fest

[such_heights]

Because it's Monday and that sucks.

A hug can turn your day around. It’s like an emotional Heimlich. Someone puts their arms around you and they give you a squeeze and all your fear and anxiety come shooting out of your mouth in a big wet wad and you can breath again.

-- Chuck, Pushing Daisies

All kinds of fanworks welcome - audiofic, art, rec lists, fic, picspam etc - as are all kinds of hugs - platonic, romantic, enforced huddling for warmth, whatever you like. If, like Ned in the above Pushing Daisies scene, you're writing about a character who's less fond of physical contact, non-tactile gestures of affection are also welcome.

eta: now with animated .gifs in comments. also, as many entries as you like, as self-indulgent as you like, indefinitely! go to town.

Comments

[fallingtowers]

I'm afraid that I haven't got much inspiration to spare at the moment, but can I just send you *hugs* nonetheless?

*hugs you*

[such_heights]

*squishes* <3333

Doctor Who, River (& Amy), 500 words

[such_heights]

River doesn't really go in for hugs - not for her own benefit, anyway. She's glad to provide them to others, like her mother when she was very young and very scared in a forest full of angels, and the Doctor on the days when he can't save everyone. On those days, when he's a small ball of misery, sadness loud enough for her to feel, she wordlessly wraps her arms around him and lets him rest his head on her shoulder, wishing she could take the hurt away. She can't, of course, but she places her hands on his back and feels his breathing even out against her, and sometimes that's enough.

She's worked hard for her independence and she prides herself on not being emotionally dependent on anyone any more, even the people she loves most. She loves the Doctor with all her heart, but she doesn’t need him; at least, not the way she thought she did when she was very young and ready to pull the world apart for love.

She loves Amy and Rory too, as friends and as parents, and seeing as she's lucky to know them at all she's never asked for much from them – they try their best to look after her, but she's so much older and there's only so much they can do to care for a daughter who spends most of her time living in a different century from them. River loves them for trying all the same, like sending care packages wrapped in TARDIS blue paper containing things she loves from 21st century Earth, like trashy spy novels and a selection of homemade baked goods.

When she and they were all very young, and she'd gone by Mels, she'd dreaded the day when she'd betray them and lose their friendship. And yet, after everything, here they are. Her parents know her, and forgive her, and love her unconditionally, and it means the world. She never had a nest to fly from, but she seems to finally have a home to return to.

So sometimes, on the days where the walls of Stormcage close in on her and she can't stand the restlessness beneath her skin a moment longer, she sets coordinates not for some distant planet, hoping for danger and adventure, and she doesn't call for the TARDIS either. She travels back to a small world in an uninteresting solar system, where there’s an unremarkable street with a house with a blue front door.

When she rings the doorbell, Amy answers the door like she knew she was coming, and her smile is as bright as sunflowers as she lets River inside, the house flooded with warmth and light.

'It's so good to see you,' Amy says, and pulls River in close, hugging her tightly, her hands stroking River’s hair.

River Song is a soldier, a superhero, a one-woman army who's more than capable of surviving alone under any circumstances. But just here, just now, just for a moment, she allows herself to let her guard drop, surrounded by the wonderful and unfamiliar feeling of a mother’s love.

Re: Doctor Who, River (& Amy), 500 words

[happydork]

*wibbles, but in a good way*

Re: Doctor Who, River (& Amy), 500 words

[pocky_slash]

ALL THE FEELINGS ♥ ♥ ♥

Re: Doctor Who, River (& Amy), 500 words

[liseuse]

This is so beautiful. *snuggles*

Re: Doctor Who, River (& Amy), 500 words

[mergatrude]

♥ ♥ ♥

Re: Doctor Who, River (& Amy), 500 words

[st_aurafina]

Wibbling like a jelly right now. River! Amy!

[pocky_slash]

I have like, 2k of daycare hug fic that's 3/4 finished. Maybe I'll post a little bit of that. It's really self-indulgent and I was debating whether I should post it anywhere at all, but I think I've stopped caring what other people think XD

[such_heights]

Self-indulgence is absolutely encouraged, particularly Daycare self-indulgence. :D

Pansy and Hermione, tired snuggling, 200 words, PG.

[liseuse]

“tired, soooo tired,” Hermione muttered as she slid into bed. “Why are meetings?”

Pansy pushed her glasses up her nose, and tugged the duvet up so it covered Hermione’s shoulders. “You live for meetings, darling.”

“Not with the Andorran ambassador. He’s very boring.” Hermione said, through a yawn. She snuggled down under the duvet, and curled around Pansy so her head was resting on Pansy’s upper arm, and one arm was across Pansy’s stomach. “You’re very warm.”

“I have been in bed for hours.” Pansy said gleefully. “Whilst you were laughing politely at anecdotes I was drinking tea and reading this gloriously silly book.”

“Enjoying it then,” Hermione said into Pansy’s side and Pansy shivered as Hermione’s breath ghosted over her skin.

“There is nothing not to enjoy. The main character has just escaped from prison by pretending to be dead, and managed to not drown. I’m not convinced he isn’t a wizard.” Pansy closed the book, and flicked the light off. She shimmied down under the duvet so she could curl around Hermione. She dropped a kiss on the top of her head, and then reached down to hold the hand that was splayed over her stomach.

“I love you, you workaholic,” Pansy said, and let Hermione’s breathing ease her into sleep.

Re: Pansy and Hermione, tired snuggling, 200 words, PG.

[raanve]

I love them, and also YOU. <3 <3

[sunnyrea.livejournal.com]

I'm just giving you straight up gif hugs, and you can't stop me!

(http://photobucket.com)

(http://photobucket.com)

(http://photobucket.com)

(http://photobucket.com)

*tackle hug*

[out_there]

Because hugs should be happy, joyous and a little too enthusiastic!

Heavily Armoured, Batgirl, Dick/Stephanie

[amathela]

Batman doesn't hug.

At least, Steph's 99% sure Batman doesn't hug, which is why Dick wrapping his body around hers probably started as a protective gesture, a (really unnecessary, but appreciated) sort of human shield, which would make sense, considering the explosion a few dozen yards away that's only the tiniest bit her fault. But it's been a while since the explosion died down, since the heat stopped searing what little exposed skin she has and the force of it stopped rocking her back, and his arms are still around her, squeezing tight. And, okay, she might still be shaking a bit (the explosion was only the last of it, she still doesn't want to think about what came before), but he's holding her so tight she can't really tell any more, can't tell if it's her or him or maybe just a low-level earthquake, because that would really be the perfect way to end her night.

And then she isn't shaking any more, and maybe it's because Dick's kind of stroking her hair, his grip on her looser but still firm, still solid, and after a while - well, after a while it becomes pretty damn obvious that now he's just hugging her.

"Mmmph mmmmmph," she says, because her face is buried in his impressive Bat-chest, and he pulls back a little. Not so much that he isn't hugging her any more.

"What?" he asks, and, yep he's definitely smiling. Batman smiles and hugs. At the same time. Who knew?

"I never thought I'd be getting a hug from Batman," she says, and she's kind of afraid it'll break the mood, but she's never been great at not saying things. If the action earlier in the evening hadn't shattered her comm link, she's sure Oracle would be giving her some sound tips on inner monologue.

"Think of me as a kinder, gentler Batman," he quips, but he isn't really joking.

"I like it," she says. It's very ..."

"Nice?" he asks.

"Armoured," she says. "I feel very safe."

And that was supposed to be a joke, but it isn't, either, and now she feels way too exposed. Heavily armoured hugs notwithstanding.

But Dick just says, "Good."

And doesn't let her go.

And she probably couldn't kick Batman's ass anyway, right? So there's probably no point in trying to struggle, like if Batman wants to hug you, you're probably just going to have to get hugged by Batman. She's just being practical, is all.

Plus, it's still nice.

Re: Heavily Armoured, Batgirl, Dick/Stephanie

[justice_turtle]

BAT HUGS *squeeeeeee forever*

Draco and Neville, tired warzone snuggling, vague au, pg

[liseuse]

Neville doesn’t think he has any words left. It’s been a long day … week … month. It has been, he decides, a very long existence. There is a bone deep weariness settling in, and he thinks he needs a holiday. Or, at the very least, one whole day where there is nothing that reminds him of the war, of being at school, of being terrified all the time.

He also knows he isn’t going to get that. So he mechanically convinces the shower that it does want to give him some hot water, pulls of his clothes, stands under it for the three minutes it grudgingly tells him he can have, and then puts on his pajamas.

And then he stands, at the side of his bed. Just looking at the pack he needs to put together. Supplies he needs to shrink so he can take them wherever he gets sent tomorrow, the warm jumper he might not need, and the suncream he probably won’t need, but always takes with him. Because, one day, he might get sent to a planet where there is actual sun, and warmth and he will just burn, like a fucking lobster, because he’s only seen damp planets, with rain, and overcast conditions or the inside of this sodding spaceship for a year.

He’s still stood there, folding things slowly when he hears the “swish-clunk-thick” of the door opening and closing, and he makes a mental note to ask Lavender if she can do something with it on her next repair round. He doesn’t bother turning around. It can’t be anyone dangerous because the alarms would have gone off, and he’d have felt it in that tickle up his spine. Plus he’s so tired that even if it was someone dangerous he doesn’t trust himself to summon his wand, or do anything other than cry out for help.

Two arms come sneaking round his middle and that ohsofamiliar scent creeps into his nostrils as someone presses their body against his back, kisses his neck and then drops their head on his shoulder. “Why are you still awake?” Draco says sounding fond, and a little annoyed.

“I’m too tired to sleep.” Neville finds the words escaping his mouth without him thinking about them. “You haven’t been here. The bed’s too big.”

Draco huffs a laugh into the crease of Neville’s neck. “You really are tired. That bed is barely big enough for one eleven year old, let alone two twenty-three year olds who both had growth spurts four years ago.” Neville knows that Draco understands though, because he flicks his wand and the pack moves over to a chair, and the sheets fold down. He rubs Neville’s shoulders soothingly, and then turns him around and pushes him into a sitting position. “Get under the covers, and stay there.” Draco says as he presses the door panel for the bathroom.

When he gets back to the room, Neville is at least lying down on the bed, but he hasn’t pulled the covers up over him. He’s shifted over to the side by the wall, so Draco can slide in easily. And, if Draco is being honest, because he’s been kicked in his sleep so many times that he knows Draco won’t sleep unless he has an easy escape route.

Draco slides in, and pulls the covers up, whispering a soft charm that makes them feel less like military-issue scratchy blankets from hell and more like the duvet of his dreams. The charm won’t last more than an hour but that should be all that’s needed. Neville turns to him, and shoves his face into Draco’s shoulder, letting one arm slip down so he can rest a hand on Draco’s hip. If they weren’t both so tired it would be a lovely come on, and Draco thinks he could probably convince himself that he was up for sex if he had three caffeine pills and enough energy. But, as it is, they both need sleep, and the comfort of being entangled with each other. He smiles, contentedly, to himself as he drifts down into sleep and feels Neville relaxing in his arms. Their lives may be excruciatingly hard and made of stupid levels of terror, but, right now, in this room, in this bed, they have the comfort of arms wrapped around them and a soft duvet.

Re: Draco and Neville, tired warzone snuggling, vague au, pg

[such_heights]

aw aw awwwwwwww :D

Avengers movieverse, Clint Barton/Phil Coulson

[misbegotten]

Don't Drink the Water

Phil Coulson is a highly capable, fully-trained field agent. He is just as adept -- if not more -- at hand-to-hand combat, at weapon-to-hand combat, at office-supply-equipment-to-hand combat (seriously, he could take out your windpipe with a pen cap), as his colleagues. He rides herd on the Avengers with patience and good humor, with only occasional glimpses of irritation at their more destructive shenanigans.

He also makes an excellent cup of coffee, which is neither here nor there, but it's another one of the reasons that Clint loves him. That, and he's a tiger in bed.

Right now, Phil looks wretched, ill, and in desperate need of a hug. It's too bad that he's covered in river water which, though it's mostly dried, has left his usually immaculate suit a splotchy, spongy mess.

"Strip," Clint orders, throwing him a towel. The river that Iron Man fished Phil out of wasn't that polluted, but better safe than sorry. "In to the shower."

Phil wipes his face and holds back a sneeze. Miserably. If Clint didn't know better, he'd say that Phil's dunking has undone his natural immunity to all known germs. Hopefully his immunity to sarcasm and Stark's attempts to make him laugh are still in place, or it could mean the end of the Avengers Initiative altogether.

"You're not stripping."

Phil sighs longsufferingly and begins peeling off his suit. "You could help, you know," he says. A little plaintively. Clint just wants to bundle him up and take care of him. But this is Phil, and one does not coddle the Agent in Charge. Except maybe in bed, when snuggling is not out of the question.

Phil's trousers are sticking to his legs, and he plucks at them irritably to get them loose. Clint takes pity on him and starts on the buttons of Phil's dress shirt -- though if he gets river crud from it, Phil will never hear the end of it -- but Phil catches his hand. "You know how they say you see your life flash before your eyes?"

Clint's been there, done that, would prefer not to do it again. "Yeah," he says roughly, trying not to think about how long Phil was underwater.

"I didn't see anything," Phil says quietly. "Except you."

Oh. Oh. Phil is many, many things, but he's not demonstrative. Light touches, small smiles -- these are Phil's calling cards. Not declarations.

Phil's arms slide around Clint tentatively, as if he's not sure Clint will push him off, and Clint thinks with exasperation Phil and river crud in the same instant, but of course Phil wins out and Clint draws him into a tight embrace.

"Love you," Clint says.

Phil's head is buried in Clint's neck as he says something that sounds vaguely like, "Love you too, you conceited, trouble-making, pain in my ass."

Yeah, it's definitely true love.

Re: Avengers movieverse, Clint Barton/Phil Coulson

[raanve]

Oh, I love this!

Community, Annie, Troy & Abed

[such_heights]

Annie's exhausted by the time she finally gets home - long day at college by a long shift at work and she's done for. The apartment's quiet, so she heads straight to her room, shrugging off her uniform and reaching for her pyjamas. She plans on sleeping for twelve hours straight and not feeling the slightest bit guilty about it, because it is Friday at last.

She's brushing her hair when Abed knocks on the door and pokes his head in.

"Hey," he says. "We're watching Terminator 2 in the blanket fort if you want to join us." He tilts his head. "I can throw in a back rub if you like, you look pretty tense."

Annie's eyes widen. "Oh, you're sure? That would be amazing."

Abed nods and follows her back into his and Troy's room.

"Hey, Annie!" Troy beams up at her, cross-legged on the floor and adjusting his laptop screen, currently showing a freeze frame of Sarah Connor kicking ass. He shuffles over to make room for her.

Abed puts his hands on her shoulders and gently guides her to the floor. He sits behind her and then his long, cool fingers start to seek out every knot of tension she's carrying and gently work them loose. Her eyes flutter shut in happy relief.

Troy presses play and then there's the noise of explosions and gunfire. Annie's happy to let the action pass her by, content that Sarah Connor while save the day regardless of how much attention she's paying. As Abed continues to take the tension out of her she scoots back a little, resting her head against his chest.

"Abed, you're a god."

Troy looks back at them and pouts a little before moving to join them, tugging a couple of extraneous blankets down from the fort to spread over Annie. "Better?" he asks her.

She nods sleepily, and Troy wraps his arm around her waist, curling in close against her. She reaches up to tug Abed's arm down too and then the three of them are cuddled up together, soft and warm and comfortable, while robots battle each other on screen.

Re: Community, Annie, Troy & Abed

[raanve]

I think that they would make the best cuddlepile, even if Abed is all elbows.

The Hunger Games: Thresh & Rue (PG/PG-13?)

[makai]

He found her in the closet, on the top shelf, squatting with her arms tucked in and elbows stuck out because it was too small even for her scrawny frame. She resembled the bird with the broken wing that had flown into his grandma’s home. Unlike then, he didn’t break her neck between his hands. It would have been as easy, and it would have saved her the terror of the morning, of the games.

His strong arms rose and gently slipped around her back and legs. When her body collapsed in the air of the room, his arms caught her and pulled her close to his chest. He began to lower her when her arms wrapped around his neck and clasped tight. The time on the train, during the preparations, and training hadn’t been long enough for her to truly gain weight. Her attitude had been that which eldest siblings had among the general population of their district – and from the footage of the reapings…it wasn’t just their district. But she was small and young, too young to truly understand these events fully. The small gesture showed him more than any words she may have sung for the empty room.

No birds were around to join her light voice, and the view displayed on her windows, of orchards, was a farce worse than the blue hair and overfriendly tone of the host at the interviews. Her eyes flitted to them, and he looked down at her. “There aren’t any trees here,” she whispered, breaking the silence between them. Her body shook.

“Climb me,” he replied without thinking. He had been compared to a tall strong tree before, and the closet did not count as a tree. Her eyes lit up, and the happiness on her brown face ached in his heart like a deep wound. He had not expected to experience happiness again.

Supporting herself, she clamored up his shoulders, so that one foot was placed on either side of his head at first. Her arms stretched. Her whole body stretched, and for a few minutes, there was both a tree and a bird on the eleventh floor of the Training Center. Her legs trembled. She grabbed the sides of his head as she came back down, until he was certain enough of her stability to reach up and set her on the ground.

He didn’t know what to say. Talking wasn’t his strong suit. But the girl hugged him, with a jumping start so that her arms ended up around his waist. His arms bent down to wrap around her as well. He couldn’t kill her, not even if it came down to the two of them. But the odds were in his favor that it wouldn’t come to that.


First time writing thg stuff. IDK, I just finished Mockingjay for the second time.

Re: The Hunger Games: Thresh & Rue (PG/PG-13?)

[lilmoka]

This is so good *whimpers*

[(Anonymous)]

The problem with the Red Book, Elanor felt, was that it was so big, almost as big as she herself. She felt that whoever had picked it must have made a mistake and chosen a book sized for the Big People, like the King and Queen, and not for proper hobbit-sized people and to be carried around by proper hobbit-sized girl-children like herself.

Still, being very clever, she could generally work out how to get it off its shelf without falling down and causing Mother to need to run in and exclaim about how she would break her neck if she weren't careful. Today the chair shifted a little and Elanor almost fell, and there came a little screech of chair-legs against wood-floor - but she did not fall, and there weren't any marks, and she got the book down.

The edges of the cover dug a bit into her fingers. Her father had had it rebound with proper wood back and front, because the leather had started to look a bit scuffed and the paper worn. There were lots of copies now, of course; Uncle Peregrin had sent someone who was actually a scribe to make an ever-so-careful copy to take back to Tookborough and Father said that it would now be all the way far away in Minas Tirith, where it would be copied again and sent to all corners of the world.

But they had the original Red Book, and that was much more special.

Father sat in his study, at his desk, frowning at all the papers and such that came with being Mayor. Elanor had yet to grasp all of why there was so much paper with being Mayor, but there was, and Father grumbled about it. She tottered over to the low table beside the big comfortable arm-chair and put the book on it, nearly knocking it over.

By then, Father had started to say, "I'm busy, sun-star," without so much as glancing her way, but she went over to him anyway and pulled on his sleeves and gave him her best sad look when he did look at her. "Oh," he said with a sigh, "well. I suppose."

Soon, Elanor knew, she would have to start sharing these times with her brother - but just yet, little Frodo couldn't sit still long enough to be read to, and played with his toys wherever their mother sat. When her Sam-dad went over to his chair Elanor climbed up into his lap before he could even lift her, and started to pull her book over.

"Whoa there," her father said, laughing and ruffling her hair. "Careful, you'll have it and the table over if you're not careful." Then he took the book and Elanor snuggled down beside him, one arm tucked in beside his ribs and the other playing with one of the buttons on his waistcoat, with her chin resting alongside one of the breast pockets. "Now," said her Sam-dad, "where were we?"

"You'd just scolded the man in the woods, Sam-dad," she said. "The one who was the brother of the man who tried to take the Ring away from Master Frodo. Right there." She pointed on the page, as he turned to it; she couldn't read yet, but she always made her father point out the words where they stopped, and remembered it as a picture in her head.

"Ah, right," her father said, a funny kind of note in his voice. She caught him looking down at her, but when she tilted her face up he just kissed her cheek and cleared his throat to begin.

[such_heights]

omg omg feeeeeelings this is so lovely!

[recessional]

Sometimes people say more than they mean to; sometimes little things that come out at times of stress are things you should keep hold of, remember, because they mean a lot. Nyota knows that, and Spock isn't immune. If anything, it applies more to him than anyone else she knows.

So she's spent a lot of time thinking about seven words, the seven words I need everyone to continue performing admirably. Said so soon after he couldn't save his mother, could save his father, and didn't save his world. She'd almost known it would be that, when she followed him. There's part of everyone, Nyota thinks, that wants it to be otherwise. That wants, when someone's bleeding inside, for them to say you can do this simple thing, and it will make it all better for me.

To have the power to stop all the pain, bind up all the wounds and make them never have happened.

Before that moment, it hadn't ever occurred to her to think of Spock as a social creature. Or any Vulcan, really, even more than he. Had thought so much came from his human side that she now thinks she was wrong about.

I need everyone to continue performing admirably means, she realized over time, I need the world to keep working, I need to know that there is something that's still left, to still work for, that people around me who matter will continue to be what they were.

It means, I need to know I haven't just been orphaned and left completely alone in a broken world.

It's a lot to put in seven words, but Spock is nothing if not laconic, unless you get him talking about his research.

Nyota keeps this revelation close. Because back to Starfleet or not, back to her or not, back to work or not -

These things don't heal just because you decided to make them. And often she catches Spock as he is today, standing in their quarters with a forgotten drink of some kind in his hand, staring out of the viewport into the stars and the black. It's not hard to guess what he's thinking about, or (for her) what he's feeling.

She doesn't immediately go to him, when she finds him like that. She comes in and trades uniform for something else, something softer and civillian, trades her boots for slippers or bare feet, lets her hair down and (if it's been a long day) rubs some of the headache out of her scalp. She finds something warm and Vulcan to make to drink.

Then she goes over to him, to gently touch his elbow or his shoulder to tell him that she's there. And when he turns, she raises two fingers of one hand, waits for him to rest his two fingers against hers.

Smiles. Asks him about his shift, or something he's been reading.

Because what he really said, what feels like a long time ago and only a few heartbeats past at the same time, was I need to know that life goes on. And it does. And it will.

[staranise]

<3 <3 <3 *gives you tea*

I, um, yes. Feelings. This.

[recessional]

[from And On The Third Day verse; self-indulgence at its finest]

Neville dubs them Studdle Piles, which is not exactly the most elegant portmanteau ever, but works. It means a cuddle-pile in which everyone involved, or at least most of them, are studying. And Harry, Hermione and Ron aren't the only people you find in them either, although they are the most frequent.

Since the end of the War, everyone seems a lot more touchy. Like it's harder to believe someone's really okay if you're not touching them. Everyone who's dating someone else, of course, would have been thrown out of Hogwarts for inappropriate public displays of attention in anything other than this special, students-preparing-for-tests-only term. But it isn't just them.

You'll even find boys who act like they have something to prove in the masculinity department (mostly, Hermione observes with pointed accuracy, those who were too young, too afraid or too busy hiding with their parents to take part in the Battle of Hogwarts) sitting close enough to touch shoulders on the Common Room chesterfields, books on their laps.

But of course, everyone desperately needs to study, so there are books everywhere.

The Studdle Piles are how Ginny and Luna rather carefully inform the world that they're an item. Pointed and hostile expressions are how Ron, Harry and Hermione all express to everyone else that anyone who takes exception to this might find themselves spending the rest of their lives as a ferret. After all, nobody's quite sure what terrifying and dreadful spells the three of them had learned on their year-long quest.

The Studdle Piles are also how some of the Slytherins who'd come hesitantly back to the school are either gathered back into the society of the rest of the school or (like Pansy, whom nobody forgave for anything that happened during the Bad Year, largely because she didn't apologize) firmly shown to be on the Outs with every other House.

Maybe, Harry thinks sometimes, they'll be able to heal the whole wizarding world a bit better this time. Starting by acting like (as Pansy had sneered and nobody had really felt insulted by) happy collections of puppies huddling together for warmth.

[staranise]

Studdle Piles sounds like a place in Britain. "Well, chaps, off to Studdle Piles for the weekend." (What a weekend!)

Love Ginny/Luna, and the fierce trio looking out for them.

[recessional]

[Decade and One (and Many More) verse]

Harry's mum's face looked exactly like a stormcloud. Well, it didn't, because faces couldn't and Harry had always had a problem with that in the books she'd prodded him into reading, but now he knew what they meant, because the look on her face made Harry think she ought to have a little black stormcloud over her head, with tiny bursts of lightning.

"Hi, Mum," he started to say, as she limped ferociously towards him, leaning hard on her stick. But she grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the other students and into one of the classrooms that was, thankfully, empty.

"Henry James Evans Potter," she said, adding in her maiden-name like she only did when she really wanted him to understand she was upset, "you tell me right now, and you'd better be telling me the truth - you tell me right now that you did not put your name in that damn cup. You tell me right now!" And she shook him a little, not having let go of his arm.

Harry gaped at her. Then the words, "I DIDN'T!" burst up his throat and up his mouth, a lot louder than he meant to. And they came with other words that just kept coming out without really asking him about it, half-shouting, "WHY DOES EVERYONE THINK I'M STUPID?! OF COURSE I DIDN'T PUT MY NAME IN THE CUP I'M GOING TO GET KILLED, MUM!"

Then he managed to get a hold on his mouth and shut it, nearly biting his tongue because of how white his mum went, the light dusting of freckles across her nose looking like black ink instead of . . .whatever freckles were made of, Harry forgot. "Sorry," he muttered. "It's just nobody will believe me. Everyone thinks I'm stupid, obviously. Because I'd have to be stupid to do that!"

"Well," his mum said in a more normal voice, letting go of his arm, "the last three years' adventures might have something to do with that."

"I didn't do any of those on purpose either!" Harry protested. He pushed his hair away from his face, and then his mother undid most of it by rearranging it to suit her.

"You need a hair-cut," she said, almost absently.

"You always say that," Harry replied automatically, and relaxed a little when a tiny smile showed up at the corner of her mouth.

"Well," she said, "you do." Then she took his arm again and pulled him into a fierce one-armed hug that he returned two-armed. He realized he was almost as tall as she was, and his mum wasn't short. It made the hug feel weird, a little.

"Someday," his mum murmured, "you have got to stop scaring me, Harry."

"M'sorry," he replied.

"I know."

[staranise]

Someone Harry can emo!raeg at who gets it! Oh, Lily, you lovely, lovely woman.

Soul Eater, Death the Kid & Patty Thompson, 100 words

[terajk]

(If it helps, he's a god of death and she's a person who turns into [his] gun).

“If you hugged somebody, would they die?”

One of his father’s favorite answers is “Mmmmmaybe!♥” but he has always believed in clarity, especially where his new weapon partners are concerned. “No.”

“Oh.” She sounds disappointed. “I wanted to test it.”

He raises an eyebrow. He…doesn’t really hug, (it isn’t practical, what with all his Armani suits), and his father doesn’t, either. Father waves, gives high-fives and Shinigami-chops, ruffles his hair now and then (dammit, Dad). No hugs, though.

He will have his hands all over her. And hugs are symmetrical, usually. But he should make the first move.

Appropriate Reaction (Sherlock/John)

[lefaym]

After they’ve finished arguing—after John has yelled, and Sherlock has explained, and then yelled a bit when John still wasn’t happy—and after John has yelled some more—silence falls. They look at each other across the room. John knows he is glaring and Sherlock—well, he would be glaring except that... it takes John a moment to realise that he looks confused. Well, whatever is bothering him, Sherlock can work it out himself with that bloody great brain of his; he doesn’t bloody well need John, he’s proved that much over the last eighteen months.

Not one phone call, not one note—

All at once, Sherlock is no longer on the other side of the room. In the space of two seconds Sherlock moves from his corner to the space directly in front of John.

John sighs. “What is it now?”

“John.”

“More excuses?” (They are, John reluctantly admits, pretty good excuses, but he doesn’t want to think about that now, because Sherlock left him, all alone, for a year and a half, and it’s not fair that he gets to have a good excuse for doing that.)

“No.” Sherlock shakes his head. “No, I—”

And suddenly, John finds himself engulfed. Sherlock’s body is rigid against John’s and his arms are like vices around John’s shoulders.

“Um, Sherlock—” John’s voice squeaks embarrassingly on that last syllable— “What are you doing?”

“I believe,” Sherlock says, “that this is the appropriate response when one is reunited with someone whom one has—whom one has missed a great deal.”

“Oh.” That doesn’t come out right. Something seems to be stuck in his throat. “Well that’s—” John swallows. “Oh, bloody hell.” His arms loop around Sherlock’s waist and he squeezes tightly for a moment before letting them drop.

Sherlock seems to take this as a sign to step away, which is good, because breathing had become difficult there for a bit, but at the same time—

They look at each other again, and then both of them seem to need to look in the other direction instead. Oh god, John hopes his face isn’t turning red. “Um, right. Well—yes, I think we should—”

“Yes. Yes, definitely,” Sherlock agrees.

“Okay, I’ll just—shall I—I’ll put the kettle on.”

“Good idea.”

“Right then.” John turns towards the kitchen. But somehow, after he’s taken one step, he finds himself turning back, and suddenly he’s standing in front of Sherlock again, and his arms are going around Sherlock again, and—

“God,” John breathes against Sherlock’s chest. “God, I’m glad to have you back.”

This time, Sherlock’s arms around his shoulders aren’t quite so stiff.

“Likewise,” Sherlock says.

Re: Appropriate Reaction (Sherlock/John)

[lilmoka]

So perfect! ♥

"Rule Five", Harry Potter, Ginny & Luna (& the whole DA), 620 words

[woldy]

Ginny is in the middle of brushing her teeth when Luna embraces her from behind.

"What?" Ginny tries to say, but with a mouthful of brush and toothpaste the noise that comes out is, "Wflysh?"

"It's a hug," Luna says, squeezing a little tighter. "I thought you might need one."

Ginny removes the brush from her mouth and spits foam into the sink. "Why now?"

"Why not?"

"Okay, then," Ginny says, putting down her toothbrush.

She turns and Luna loosens her grip so that Ginny can swivel on the spot. Then Luna wraps her arms around Ginny's waist again, pulling her in tight. After a moment of awkwardness, Ginny reaches her arms around Luna's back, hands meeting over her shoulderblades.

Luna gives a contented sigh that seems to come from her whole body, and rests her forehead on Ginny's shoulder. Ginny takes a deep breath herself, releases it, and feels the tension seep from her limbs. They stand like that for a while, just hugging and breathing, until Ginny finds a smile spreading across her face.

"Thanks," she says, when Luna lets go.

"Everyone should get a hug when they need it," Luna says seriously.

A few minutes later Luna hugs Neville, who looks almost alarmed and stands there stiffly, arms by his sides. It's all Ginny can do not to laugh.

Ginny sees Luna hug five different people that morning, several of them twice. Within a few days Neville is holding his arms out wide as Luna approaches, and enfolds her in his arms with the same comfort that he holds Trevor or his mimbulus mimbletonia.

After that, the hugs seem to become contagious. Whenever someone gets back from detention with the Carrows they get hugged. After successful missions people get hugged. There are hugs in between lessons in the corridors and in the dorms before bed, and even students too young to join the DA start snuggling in public. All manner of hugs get exchanged: gentle hugs, tender hugs, joyous hugs, rib-crushing hugs, and thank-merlin-we-survived hugs. The resistance, Ginny decides, is made up of 70% principle, 10% sheer rebelliousness, and 20% hugs.

It's not the same after Luna is taken from the train, but they need the hugs more than ever.

"Remember, everyone gets a hug when they need one," Neville tells everyone during their meeting in the Room of Requirement.

"We should make it a rule," Lavender says, and Ginny gives her a quizzical look. "A proper rule, I mean. Like the ones on the wall."

The rules have been written on the wall since their first DA meeting, and new ones are added when needed. At the moment, they read:

1. No Carrows or Death Eaters allowed.
2. Don't tell any non-DA members what we're doing. Even your family.
3. No (wo)man alone, unless you tell someone where you're going.
4. Any plan that might hurt people requires a majority vote.

There's room for an extra rule, and this one might just be the most important.

"I think Luna would like that," she says slowly. Ginny looks at Neville, who shrugs.

"Put it to a vote?"

Everyone except Seamus votes for the new rule about hugs. "Seems a bit girly," he says, when Neville cocks an eyebrow at him.

"I'll show you girly," Lavender replies, and engulfs him in a hug. Parvarti and Hannah pile in behind her, and Ginny adds herself to the throng. She grins across at Neville when he joins the group hug from the other side.

When Luna climbs into the Room of Requirement several months later, Ginny runs across the room and grabs her in a hug so enthusiastic that it's almost a tackle.

"Hi," Luna says, beaming.

Someone presses against Ginny's side - judging by the hair it's probably Padma - and then there's a warm body against her back. The whole DA gather around them.

"Hi everyone," amends Luna, and gives Ginny a squeeze. "It's good to be back."

Re: "Rule Five", Harry Potter, Ginny & Luna (& the whole DA), 620 words

[lokifan]

:D :D :D

xmfc - raven and charles - 1400 words

[pocky_slash]

Raven hates herself a little for helping to clean up the mess while Alex and Angel and Sean half-heartedly stand in the corner, leaning on brooms and bitching about what a prig Charles is, but Charles has been her family for years and she knows why he is the way he is and even though he's a killjoy, she has to swallow down the urge to defend him, to explain to them that it's just because he wants so much from them, because he wants this stupid perfect world where everyone is good to everyone else.

She doesn't want them to think she's just as much of a loser, though, so she starts sweeping up broken glass and righting knocked over furniture. She feels better about it when Darwin starts to help, and then Hank's working with them too, so at least she's not alone in being a goody-two-shoes.

That doesn't mean she's not still mad at Charles, though. He didn't have to embarrass her like that in front of the rest of them. He didn't have to shout at them all like they were babies even if, okay, they could have been a little more discreet. They probably shouldn't have added so much of that stolen rum to their drinks. But it was all in good fun, and it's not like Charles has never been there, drinking too much, using his powers for a bit of a game, trying to impress anyone who looks his way. He gets to go out with Erik every night, who couldn't be more his type if Charles had ordered him from a catalog, no matter how much he tries to insist that they're just eager to discuss the future of their kind, like they're tossing genetics lectures back and forth over brandy and not making out like teenagers in the back of their government issued car. Raven's seen the hickeys. Charles may be fooling the rest of the kids, but he can never fool her and it's not fair that he expects her to be prim and proper while he's going out and doing the exact opposite.

Darwin asks her if she wants to play cards once they've cleaned up, but Raven claims she has a headache and goes back to her room to sulk in private, where she won't have to listen to their stupid, catty comments. It's worse than the girls at school; at least in school the name "Xavier" meant enough to keep their stupid remarks behind her back and not in front of her face.

She loses the blonde facade as soon as she closes the door and throws herself down onto the cot. She shares the room with Angel, who's normally pretty cool, but is just too much today. They all are, even Hank. She likes having friends for the first time, real friends she can be honest with and talk to, the first she's ever had outside of Charles, but she's not sure she's ready to give up her old life in exchange for them. It was hard, sometimes, being alone. It was difficult when it was just the two of them and sometimes Raven just wanted someone else, some outside point of view, someone who wasn't her stodgy-before-his-time brother to listen and talk to and bond with. Usually, though, Charles was enough, the two of them together were enough. Raven and Charles against the world--Raven liked that. She liked being the most important person to someone and knowing they were the most important person to her. She liked knowing where she stood, even if she didn't always like what that standing was.

She's sure she'll get used to being around so many new people. She's sure she'll adapt to the change in routine, the change in lifestyle, even. But she misses Charles already, misses what they had. They used to sit and talk every night. Now, Raven is lucky if Charles remembers to come in and say good night before locking himself away to "play chess" with Erik.

She's ten minutes into a good mope when there's a quiet knock at the door. Angel usually just barges in and out as she sees fit and Raven doesn't know who else it could be, so she mutters, "I'm busy" and pulls a pillow over her head.

The door opens anyway, and that's when she knows it's Charles. Charles always does what he wants.

"Hello," Charles says, voice quiet, almost tentative. That's something of a shock, given Charles doesn't do tentative, and enough of a draw for Raven to drop the pillow and roll over.

"Hi," Raven says flatly.

Charles sighs and crosses to her bed, sitting just on the edge and not quite looking at her. She's almost reminded of her first days with Charles, when he would come to tuck her in every night, sitting on the bed and sheepishly admitting that he wasn't quite sure how the tucking in thing was supposed to work, but he'd gathered that it was important and Raven deserved it.

Raven knows that meaning well can't always be an excuse, but Charles does so badly want to make people happy that she always gives in. She gives in now, looking up at him and smiling just a little.

"I'm sorry I shouted at you in front of the others," Charles says. "I shouldn't have done that. I'm sure it was mortifying. I only did it because I was mortified too."

It's not an excuse, but Raven suddenly sees it from his perspective, walking in with Moira and Erik and watching all of them drunk and out of control. She can't remember what Erik had said now, but there was definitely a little quip about them before he'd walked out of the room, dismissing them all entirely. Moira had shouted, too, which made sense given she was the one in charge and--okay, wow, maybe they should have reined it in a little sooner.

"You shouldn't have shouted," Raven says. "We already felt bad enough." She revises that. "I already felt bad enough. But...maybe we should have stopped once the property damage started."

Charles chuckles at that and finally looks at her, stroking her hair behind her ear.

"I'm afraid I've not been a very attentive brother this week," he admits. "Certain things have been...distracting me."

"Certain things?" Raven says. "Like, say, something that's about six foot and German?"

"Oh, shut it," Charles says, and he shoves her shoulder, color rising in his cheeks. "I'm trying to apologize. Don't make me regret it."

Raven pushes herself up to a sitting position and holds open her arms. Charles leans forward quickly, automatically, and envelops her in a tight hug. The whole base smells like antiseptic and recycled air, but Charles still smells like tea and books and his weird aftershave. Charles still smells like home, and Raven rests her head on his shoulder, not willing to let go just yet. Charles doesn't seem eager to pull back either.

"This is a whole new world we're discovering," he says. "I'm glad you're here with me."

"I'm glad too," Raven says. She swallows against the sudden lump in her throat. How much longer do they have until Charles gets swept up in this new world entirely? "Don't forget me, okay?"

"Oh, darling, I couldn't," Charles insists. "Never. I wouldn't." He says it with such a ferocity that she can't help but believe him. His arms squeeze her even more tightly.

She doesn't know if she believes it--Charles is good at making promises because Charles wants everybody to be happy and will thusly tell everybody exactly what they want to hear--but the desperation in his voice makes her pause. It's possible, in the wake of all this change, Charles needs her just as much as she needs him. It's possible Raven's not the only one who doesn't know how she fits into this new world that goes beyond the bubble of just the two of them.

"Good," she says. "I won't either. I promise."

They stay there, hugging tightly, for long minutes. There are probably trips to plan and things to read and hot Nazi-hunters waiting for Charles in his own room, but he stays put with his arms around Raven and Raven won't be the one to kick him out. Everything else can wait a few more minutes while they breathe in and out, secure in the fact that their little bubble has shrunken down again, tight around the two of them, at least for a little while longer.

Re: xmfc - raven and charles - 1400 words

[littledust]

AUGH FEELINGS. ♥