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jamjar: (library)
Another blast from the past, me reposting old Yuletides to have them where they can be tagged and memoried.

Title: perverse & compensate
Fandom: Eroica
Written for: Hunter in the Yuletide 2003 Challenge
Originall posted:
Notes: You may remember that when it started, Yuletide was obscure fandoms and obscure pairings, leading to me getting a request for a rather unconventional pairings. Having great difficulty writing either of the pairings my recipient was hoping for, I ended up writing both. It made sense at the time?
All feedback appreciated.

Sesa 01 )
02 )
jamjar: (I've got a batarang)
She asked for Eroica/Eel O'Brian (Plastic Man) and then changed her mind, but I'm not going to let a sudden attack of sanity on her part stop me.

It's not like he's the last guy Eel's expecting to see in Somewherezikstan )
jamjar: (Default)
From Eroica with Love.

I'm putting a schmoop warning on this.  Sorry about that.

1 [C] a formal statement of an opinion agreed on by a committee or a council, especially by means of a vote:

Klaus and Dorian should be together.  All in favour?


All against?


Or, four ways to a resolution (thanks to the Oxford English Dictionary.) )
jamjar: (Default)
He gestured at the stack of invitations. "I thought this was going to be a small affair."

Klaus shrugged. "Some family would have to be invited. It's best to get family meetings over with."

Dorian leaned back in the chaise longue. "You mean, you're trying to get the obligatory family visits over with all at once?"

"Yes. There is..." And a self-directed frown, which Dorian was coming to associate with Klaus's uncomfortable with English. He started again. "It is like when there are too many alpha wolves. It makes visiting our relatives *uncomfortable*. But family is family, and it is simpler if everyone just meets up together."

"One big battle rather than a lot of little skirmishes?" Dorian suggested.

Klaus smiled, a genuine and slightly twisted grin. "Better a big battle than a guerrilla war."

"So what do I have to look forward to? Lots of smiling faces and hidden knives?"

"Yes, except Tante Margot will not be hiding her knives."

"Was that a joke?" Dorian asked, surprised. Instead of answering, Klaus put down the pen and got up.

"Be ready for a run tomorrow at quarter past six. Good night."
jamjar: (Default)
If Dorian was pressed, he would admit that his mother had taste. Not style, not glamour, certainly not jaw dropping sense of aesthetics that his father had possessed, but she did possess taste and a faultless sense of what was appropriate. Which explained why, even though he was bored to tears by the party, he still found himself faintly impressed by the event.

He made an early escape into the main room, hoping that he could circumvent any attempt by his mother to get him to make nice with his soon-to-be-relatives. If they were anything like the Eberbachs he'd met, the best way to handle them would be to avoid them.
jamjar: (Default)
He had never been able to hide himself well enough to be missed as a target and quite frankly, he wasn't agressive enough to make himself a dangerous one. He could be pleasant and charming; was, in fact, whenever he could be.

Obviously, someone had made a note in his file quite early on. "Good observational skills, but can be taken advantage of by superiors (see appendix for best approaches)". Like one of the NATO secretaries who would comiserate with him over being assigned to this boss or another. The job was good enough for him to put up with the unpleasantness.

His transfer to work under the cheif had been greeted with dismay, but not surprise. He suspected it was a favour to a friend, one of the mild internal bribes the office thrived on. He'd packed up his desk in a box, been sent on his way with a mixture of commiserations and congratulations, headed down to the office.

The Chief had been everything he'd expected. G had made an effort on his first day to blend in. No dresses, barely any make-up. Pointless in the long run, since it'd only be a day before he'd slip and add some pretty silk scarf to an outfit, or stress over a deadlien would prompt him to wear his nice crystal earrings.

Particularly pointless in this case, since the Cheif had already seen G's file. They'd even met when G was working for his last boss but one. So G was trying to avoid the sweaty hands already staining his dull, but useful, navy suit when the Major stormed into the office.

Utterly beautiful and G had a tendency to fall in love at first sight anyway.

He needed a protector, someone to hide behind when colleagues were as bad as enemies. He needed someone to protect him from his superiors.

He needed the Major. The Major disliked his dresses of course, hated the make-up and jewellery and hairstyles. But he forgave all of that so long as G did his job well. The Major was violent and prejudiced and G was considered unbelievabely lucky t have never been hit.

The Major had ordered him to brush up on his selfdefense


jamjar: (Default)

October 2017

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