wendelah1: redverse Lincoln and Olivia making faces, text reads "Fringe Exchange Mod" (Fringe Exchange Mod)
[personal profile] wendelah1 posting in [community profile] fringe_exchange
Modeled after Yuletide Madness, Fringe Exchange Madness will run for one week, beginning now until the reveal one week from today.

If you have fics or ficlets or drabbles, stories which were too short to post for a main gift, finish and post them.

If there's a fic that just needed something but you ran out of time, two days ago or two years ago, now is your chance.

If you've been meaning to write that tentacle porn/spanking/Nina-Walter-William Bell threesome prompt from the [community profile] fringe_kinkmeme, don't keep procrastinating. Just go for it. (This is what anon posts are all about!)

If you have icons that you wish you'd posted but didn't and now everyone's moved to Tumblr; if there's a drawing, or a podfic, or just anything extra that would brighten the day of someone in this fandom, what are you waiting for? Make it happen. POST IT. Gift it to one of the participants, or to the fandom as a whole, your choice.

To keep it simple, all Madness gifts should be posted as a comment to this post, either with your sock puppet or as an anonymous comment to the post.

 photo 2d7b2048-3427-4b8c-9969-f3ea7eafdc12_zps41b89d9f.png
santa_sock: (Default)
From: [personal profile] santa_sock
There are not enough icons out there of Nina Sharp, so I made a few. My skills are meager. These are the three I liked the best. The original images were from Google search and I regret to say I didn't save the sources.

Nina Sharp
123


Date: 2014-12-11 12:53 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Season 5 snippet - in some weird semi-bearable AU where TBTSTW and the reset didn't happen and everyone is just dealing with living out their lives in 2036. I generally don't do fluff so this wasn't really going anywhere otherwise!

---

Olivia stirs what she assumes is hours later; there’s no trickling daylight to go by but her level of contentment suggests extended, uninterrupted slumber. She can smell Peter as clearly as she feels his body tangled with hers, warm and familiar. One thing never changed amongst the crumbling world and their disintegrating relationship: she wants this man.

She presses her lips to his throat as her fingers search him out beneath the blanket. Peter groans and blinks awake, his hand grasping her wrist firmly to still her as she brushes her mouth against his ear.

“What do you think passes for contraception in the future?”

He chuckles and releases her hand, moving instead to rest his palm over her hipbone.

“Strangely enough, that’s a conversation I’ve yet to have with our daughter.”

Olivia is equal parts mortified and amused, but she can’t help but feel a pang at the reminder of all the discussions – both awkward and not – she’s missed out on. This, again, is where they’re different: Peter has found only joy in what he’s regained but for her it’s hard to look past everything she can’t get back.

She’s always been good with kids but terrible with people, and she doesn’t quite know how to deal with this girl, this woman that only days ago to her was threeyearsonemonthfivedays,

“You know, we make beautiful babies,” he mumbles against her collar bone, hands seeking out the plane of her stomach beneath her shirt.

Olivia laughs softly, indulgent because she agrees with him but also senses what he’s really saying - or more to the point is tentatively suggesting - fingers finding his and giving a gentle squeeze.

“I feel old, Peter,” she admits.

He pulls back to look at her, eyes crinkled and warm.

“You don’t look a day over sixty.”

“Well in that case, by all means. Use me as your incubator.”

“It’s just… we missed so much.”

“Having another baby isn’t going to give us back the twenty two years we missed of her life,” she says gently, resting her forehead against his.

“No. It won’t. But that’s not what I meant.” He pulls one of his hands from beneath her shirt to rest on the back of her thigh, tugging her more snugly against him. “We could have a boy. We could name him Charlie.”

“How about Lincoln?” she teases, and he growls lowly in his throat until she nuzzles him affectionately. “I don’t think you get to choose the gender.”

“Really? This is the future – I thought somebody would have taken care of that by now. Huh.”

Her gaze shifts from her husband to the door of the room that houses their sleeping daughter - the perfect accidental arrangement of their chromosomes - and remembers the wonderment at discovering her growing inside of her, this delightful creature that is equal parts her and Peter.

She tangles her fingers in his and brings them back to her stomach, digging them into the soft skin there.

“Okay,” she says.

And then, when his face breaks into a dazzling smile she tugs his hand lower, lower, conveying none too subtly that if they’re going to do this they might as well start working on it now.

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