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the_machine_mod ([personal profile] the_machine_mod) wrote in [community profile] meme_of_interest2013-03-28 06:03 pm

Prompt Post 01

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FILL: all the things we don't talk about, Reese/Finch, 7/?

(Anonymous) 2013-06-01 07:19 am (UTC)(link)
The new number, Will Thomson, wasn't being threatened by any professors, acquaintances, or fellow students. Neither was he a threat to any professors, acquaintances, or fellow students. He didn't really have any close friends. His family was far away. Neither Finch nor Reese could figure out why the Machine had sent them this kid's number.

Reese spent two days tailing him. Something would crop up; it was inevitable. He reported in regularly to Finch, and his reports sounded formal and unusually succinct. Not that his ability to do the job was in any way impaired. But he always cut off the comm link, unless it was absolutely necessary.

In the meantime, Finch busied himself with the task of working out what the hell had happened. He was certain that something unusual had taken place, and zeroed in on the handkerchief pretty quickly. It was a simple enough task to cut out a piece of it and send it to a lab that accepted analysis work from anonymous sources; the trouble was knowing what to do with himself while he waited for the result.

Finch couldn't process what had happened until he had all the facts. But he couldn't get all the facts until he got the lab results back. And while he tried to busy himself with work, the new number wasn't making it easy. A solid B student, wasn't involved in anything even remotely dangerous, hadn't inadvertently made any enemies, and Finch couldn't think of a single useful thing to do to further his and Reese's investigation. He just stared at surveillance footage of Will's NYU residence hall, and tried to pick out suspicious-looking university students. They all look so young.

"Finch, could you take a look at Will's browser history, and his credit card history?" Reese asked.

"Am I looking for something specific, Mr. Reese?"

"No, just... Anything."

Will's browser history was mostly Reddit, coursework-related things, and porn. Reese had already tried to find a journal or a notebook, to no avail, and Finch didn't find any kind of journal-type social media in Will's browser history.

"I give up, Finch. What are we missing? Why would a 20-year old college kid be in danger? What kind of danger would a 20-year-old be in, that The Machine would see?"

Suddenly, Finch knew. Oh, no. "Mr. Reese. What is the leading cause of death for white males between the ages of 15 and 34?"

"...Accidents? But The Machine wouldn't see that."

"Of course. I suppose I meant the second biggest cause of death."

Reese made a surprised sound, just as Finch found a web search for "lethal dose of codeine" in Will's browser history.

Re: FILL: all the things we don't talk about, Reese/Finch, 7/?

(Anonymous) 2013-06-01 10:49 am (UTC)(link)
ashflsahflka so when I saw there was a new installment earlier today, I literally said "yessss" out loud. BUT NOW THERE IS A SECOND ONE TOO? I don't even know what to do with myself.

OMG the subdued angst! And of course Finch, not knowing he's in a sex pollen fic, has to do the work to figure out what the hell happened! And, oh no, Will.

I am the very model of a patient gentle reader, but know that seeing progress on this work makes me smile. <3 <3 <3

Re: FILL: Do Not Disturb [Finch's security] [T] [Swearing/discussion of noncon/canon-typical creepin

(Anonymous) 2013-06-01 01:32 pm (UTC)(link)
Very cool!

Any/Harold. Control has Finch. Warnings: torture/blood/insanity/kidnapping

(Anonymous) 2013-06-01 03:45 pm (UTC)(link)
Any/Harold. Control has Finch. Warnings: torture/blood/insanity/kidnapping

End season 2 of POI.

The Machine is free.

Control finds and kidnaps Finch.

They want the Machine back and they've found out that Nathan wasn't the one who built it and now they know that Harold was the creator of the Machine and he was the one to set her/him(up to anon) free.

Harold of course isn't going to tell them anything. He really doesn't know where the Machine has shipped itself. He's glad that he doesn't know because he knows he would've told them when they tortured him. And they do torture him.

Reese finds him after years, months (up to anon).

Harold is broken, body and mind.

The Machine talks to Harold and does things or him after Reese finds him. (How is up to anon)

The rest is up to anon.
Would really like it if Harold when and after Reese finds him is like River from Firefly or Dru from BtVS.

Re: Any/Harold. Control has Finch. Warnings: torture/blood/insanity/kidnapping

(Anonymous) 2013-06-01 05:36 pm (UTC)(link)
Not or, sorry.

The Machine talks to Harold and does things for him after Reese finds him. (How is up to anon)

Role reversal time!

(Anonymous) 2013-06-01 09:19 pm (UTC)(link)
So I have this little idea in my head:
What if Nathan actually survived the car bombing but Finch died in Nathan place? And Nathan ended up with Finch's injuries?
and maybe it caused a AU where Nathan and John are a team instead of Finch and John...

FILL: all the things we don't talk about, Reese/Finch, 8/?

(Anonymous) 2013-06-02 06:44 am (UTC)(link)
Will Thomson was suicidal. He had worked out a plan to kill himself, and that was what had been so confusing. Reese and Finch never knew if numbers were going to be victims or perpetrators, and in this case, it had turned out that the number was both.

The poor kid was suicidal because his academic standing was adequate. "You don't understand," he told Reese. "When I was in high school, I had a perfect GPA for three years in a row. My parents are expecting way better than "adequate""

Clues about Will's situation had been hard to find, because all the real information about his intentions had been in his evernote account, which he only ever accessed with his ipad.
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Will Thomson was suicidal. He had worked out a plan to kill himself, and that was what had been so confusing. Reese and Finch never knew if numbers were going to be victims or perpetrators, and in this case, it had turned out that the number was both.

The poor kid was suicidal because his academic standing was adequate. "You don't understand," he told Reese. "When I was in high school, I had a perfect GPA for three years in a row. My parents are expecting way better than "adequate""

Clues about Will's situation had been hard to find, because all the real information about his intentions had been in his evernote account, which he only ever accessed with his ipad. <emNewfangled gadgets, how can anyone keep up, I ask you?</em> Will had used to it write drafts of a suicide note. He'd also called student services a few times, but the mental health clinic was completely swamped with requests. The phone call had probably helped the Machine pick him out, however.

So Finch had joined Reese on campus, and they'd knocked on Will's door together.

"I can't tell you not to kill yourself, Will. You're the only one who had the right to make decisions about your life. But that's just it. Your opinion is the one that counts. Not someone else's opinion. If you're killing yourself because of what other people will think of grades, I urge you to reconsider."

They had somehow convinced him that they were alumni who were volunteering with student services, and had been told about his attempted phone call to student services. Will had quickly confided in them.

"He's right," Reese said. "We can't ever presume to know what it's like to be you, so we can't tell you what to do. But from what I remember, the great thing about being in college is that you care about stuff. You <em>care</em>. I'm twice your age and I'm cynical and I <em>wish</em> I cared about stuff. But you. You have really strong feelings about things, and that is a great thing. Don't let the darker side of that take over and blind you to everything else, Will."

"Please," FInch added, when he'd recovered from Reese's speech. <em>Where did that come from?</em> "Please, we know that the NYU crisis hotline is often overwhelmed, and we encourage you to call this number instead," handing Will a card with a handwritten number.

For now, the number would lead to one of Finch's burner phones. But then he was going to set up a private mental health crisis hotline. <em>Couldn't think of a better use for money.</em>

Finch and Reese left the residence building awkwardly, not speaking to each other, and Finch didn't even look up when Reese mumbled something and took off towards his loft.

Back at the library, Finch found Bear napping peacefully, and lab results waiting for him. The email said something about a "concentrated empathogen..." blah blah etc "serenic... stimulant... anxiolytic..." and then, curiously, "p.s. Where did you get this? Can you get more?"

FILL: all the things we don't talk about, Reese/Finch, 8/?

(Anonymous) 2013-06-02 06:46 am (UTC)(link)
DAMN YOU HTML

Will Thomson was suicidal. He had worked out a plan to kill himself, and that was what had been so confusing. Reese and Finch never knew if numbers were going to be victims or perpetrators, and in this case, it had turned out that the number was both.

The poor kid was suicidal because his academic standing was adequate. "You don't understand," he told Reese. "When I was in high school, I had a perfect GPA for three years in a row. My parents are expecting way better than "adequate""

Clues about Will's situation had been hard to find, because all the real information about his intentions had been in his evernote account, which he only ever accessed with his ipad. Newfangled gadgets, how can anyone keep up, I ask you? Will had used to it write drafts of a suicide note. He'd also called student services a few times, but the mental health clinic was completely swamped with requests. The phone call had probably helped the Machine pick him out, however.

So Finch had joined Reese on campus, and they'd knocked on Will's door together.

"I can't tell you not to kill yourself, Will. You're the only one who had the right to make decisions about your life. But that's just it. Your opinion is the one that counts. Not someone else's opinion. If you're killing yourself because of what other people will think of grades, I urge you to reconsider."

They had somehow convinced him that they were alumni who were volunteering with student services, and had been told about his attempted phone call to student services. Will had quickly confided in them.

"He's right," Reese said. "We can't ever presume to know what it's like to be you, so we can't tell you what to do. But from what I remember, the great thing about being in college is that you care about stuff. You care. I'm twice your age and I'm cynical and I wish I cared about stuff. But you. You have really strong feelings about things, and that is a great thing. Don't let the darker side of that take over and blind you to everything else, Will."

"Please," FInch added, when he'd recovered from Reese's speech. Where did that come from? "Please, we know that the NYU crisis hotline is often overwhelmed, and we encourage you to call this number instead," handing Will a card with a handwritten number.

For now, the number would lead to one of Finch's burner phones. But then he was going to set up a private mental health crisis hotline. Couldn't think of a better use for money.

Finch and Reese left the residence building awkwardly, not speaking to each other, and Finch didn't even look up when Reese mumbled something and took off towards his loft.

Back at the library, Finch found Bear napping peacefully, and lab results waiting for him. The email said something about a "concentrated empathogen..." blah blah etc "serenic... stimulant... anxiolytic..." and then, curiously, "p.s. Where did you get this? Can you get more?"

Finch/Reese - post 2x14

(Anonymous) 2013-06-02 09:32 am (UTC)(link)
I know it's been done, but as far as I'm concerned it can be done a million times and never get old -

Reese realizes that when Finch destroyed the watch, it was as much out of possessiveness as to find the GPS. He is ... intrigued.

dom!Finch/sub!Reese

(Anonymous) 2013-06-02 04:24 pm (UTC)(link)
I don't honestly care what the situation is, I just have a desperate craving for sub!Reese.

Bonus points for any scene involving Reese on his knees in front of Finch, head bowed and wrists cross behind his back (because this mental image has been in my head for DAYS).

Finch/Reese, pretending to be married

(Anonymous) 2013-06-02 04:36 pm (UTC)(link)
Going undercover as a married couple for a number. And not just the kind where they go to some sort of public event and wear wedding rings, but more...well. Like Reese and Zoe had to do in 2x06, really. Living together, doing little domestic things like grocery shopping and arguing over who's in charge of making dinner.

I'd especially love to see something that addresses not only how they interact during the time they're undercover, but also how they deal with things once it's over - how do they handle suddenly not living together anymore?

(Prompt greatly inspired by this ridiculously good Elementary fic (https://archiveofourown.org/works/782489).)

Reese snaps under stress

(Anonymous) 2013-06-02 05:28 pm (UTC)(link)
Reese is always highly alert of his surroundings and can never truly relax unless he's left alone in a place without any distractions.
This turns out to be a problem when a case takes longer than usual and there's no chance for him to wind down and he finally snaps (at Finch, or Bear, or someone or something else)

FILL: all the things we don't talk about, Reese/Finch, 9/?

(Anonymous) 2013-06-03 05:29 am (UTC)(link)
Ever since that night, they'd been keeping communication to a minimum. They'd never spoken so little, in fact. They had been in some kind of liminal space. All through the Will Thomson case, Finch felt the shock of what had happened, felt the dread of the unknown fallout, but had also found himself maintaining the working patterns he and Reese had established over the two years of their collaboration.

His coping mechanism, he'd found, was basically: "as long as I don't know exactly what happened, I don't have to think about what happens next, and I definitely don't have to think about my feelings."

And as far as Finch could tell, Reese's coping mechanism was basically "finish the job, then worry."

Well now the job was finished, Finch knew exactly what had happened, they had both had time to rest, and Reese was going to appear at any minute.

Finch fiddled with his pocket square, and tried to stop thinking of that night. He'd been able to put it out of his mind as long as he'd been working, but then after their conversation with Will, when it had all been over, Finch's head had been flooded with images, bits of conversation, and hazy memories. It had all seemed so real. The intimacy had seemed (still seemed!) so genuine. He'd felt... happy. And yet. It was all the result of a drug.

Finally, Reese and Bear walked in.

"Mr. Reese" Finch's voice croaked slightly. "Mr. Reese, do you recognize this handkerchief?"

Reese sat down. "Yes. That's yours. You had it the other night."

"I did have it. Yes. But as a matter of fact, this is not mine. It was handed to me by the serial killer on Owen Island."

Reese blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"The man on Owen Island gave me this. At the time, I wiped off my glasses with it, but I did not unfold it. You see, had I done so, my hands would have come into contact with a very fine powder that was covering the handkerchief's creases." Finch demonstrated by unfolding the handkerchief. "Instead, that happened the other night. My hand and face were covered with it."

Reese's eyes widened, but he didn't say anything.

"As you will recall, you also handled this handkerchief."

"Yes."

"Now, I cut off a part of the material and sent it into a lab. Yesterday, they informed me that we had been dosed with a substance that was unknown to them, but that behaved like a concentrated empathogenic drug, Empathogens, as you may know, are associated with serotonin, dopamine, and norepinephrine release, and activation of oxytocin-containing neurons."

Reese's jaw dropped. "Finch, you mean to say that the serial killer, before he died, tried to drug you with a handkerchief? But that instead of giving you GHB or some other date-rape drug to make you pass out, he gave you something that would, what, put you in a good mood? Make you feel friendly?"

"I'm as bewildered as you are, Mr. Reese."

"So the other night, you and I... we were on ecstasy?"

"Well, no. But we were on something very similar." Finch couldn't make himself look Reese in the eye. His mind suddenly supplied an image of Reese's throat working on his cock, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

Re: FILL: all the things we don't talk about, Reese/Finch, 9/?

(Anonymous) 2013-06-03 05:31 am (UTC)(link)
ugh, damnit, I did it again. Sorry. Posting this fill under the correct comment thread now.

FILL: all the things we don't talk about, Reese/Finch, 9/?

(Anonymous) 2013-06-03 05:31 am (UTC)(link)
Ever since that night, they'd been keeping communication to a minimum. They'd never spoken so little, in fact. They had been in some kind of liminal space. All through the Will Thomson case, Finch felt the shock of what had happened, felt the dread of the unknown fallout, but had also found himself maintaining the working patterns he and Reese had established over the two years of their collaboration.

His coping mechanism, he'd found, was basically: "as long as I don't know exactly what happened, I don't have to think about what happens next, and I definitely don't have to think about my feelings."

And as far as Finch could tell, Reese's coping mechanism was basically "finish the job, then worry."

Well now the job was finished, Finch knew exactly what had happened, they had both had time to rest, and Reese was going to appear at any minute.

Finch fiddled with his pocket square, and tried to stop thinking of that night. He'd been able to put it out of his mind as long as he'd been working, but then after their conversation with Will, when it had all been over, Finch's head had been flooded with images, bits of conversation, and hazy memories. It had all seemed so real. The intimacy had seemed (still seemed!) so genuine. He'd felt... happy. And yet. It was all the result of a drug.

Finally, Reese and Bear walked in.

"Mr. Reese" Finch's voice croaked slightly. "Mr. Reese, do you recognize this handkerchief?"

Reese sat down. "Yes. That's yours. You had it the other night."

"I did have it. Yes. But as a matter of fact, this is not mine. It was handed to me by the serial killer on Owen Island."

Reese blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"The man on Owen Island gave me this. At the time, I wiped off my glasses with it, but I did not unfold it. You see, had I done so, my hands would have come into contact with a very fine powder that was covering the handkerchief's creases." Finch demonstrated by unfolding the handkerchief. "Instead, that happened the other night. My hand and face were covered with it."

Reese's eyes widened, but he didn't say anything.

"As you will recall, you also handled this handkerchief."

"Yes."

"Now, I cut off a part of the material and sent it into a lab. Yesterday, they informed me that we had been dosed with a substance that was unknown to them, but that behaved like a concentrated empathogenic drug, Empathogens, as you may know, are associated with serotonin, dopamine, and norepinephrine release, and activation of oxytocin-containing neurons."

Reese's jaw dropped. "Finch, you mean to say that the serial killer, before he died, tried to drug you with a handkerchief? But that instead of giving you GHB or some other date-rape drug to make you pass out, he gave you something that would, what, put you in a good mood? Make you feel friendly?"

"I'm as bewildered as you are, Mr. Reese."

"So the other night, you and I... we were on ecstasy?"

"Well, no. But we were on something very similar." Finch couldn't make himself look Reese in the eye. His mind suddenly supplied an image of Reese's throat working on his cock, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

Re: FILL: all the things we don't talk about, Reese/Finch, 7/?

(Anonymous) 2013-06-03 03:13 pm (UTC)(link)
<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Re: FILL: all the things we don't talk about, Reese/Finch, 5/?

(Anonymous) 2013-06-03 03:15 pm (UTC)(link)
You are welcome!

Re: Reese/Finch - Reese undercover as a hooker

(Anonymous) 2013-06-04 01:56 am (UTC)(link)
+2 for this!!

Re: Slavefic AU

(Anonymous) 2013-06-04 03:01 am (UTC)(link)
Someone needs to write this! I would but my Muse has been stagnating to long for me to give it a whirl. Still, someone needs to write this!! It would be brilliant.

^_^

Re: Fill: Booked Solid - Carter & Reese, huddling for warmth - General - No Warnings

(Anonymous) 2013-06-04 03:04 am (UTC)(link)
This was beautiful in its simple intimacies. =)

Re: Fill: Booked Solid - Carter & Reese, huddling for warmth - General - No Warnings

(Anonymous) 2013-06-04 03:14 am (UTC)(link)
This was beautiful with its simple intimacies.

I've read Joss/John a few time before...but this...this makes me believe in its real potential for the first time. (This from a absolute Finch/Reese fan too, lol). I loved how in character this stayed right to the closing word. Beautiful. =)

Re: Finche/Reese, [God Mode Spoilers]

(Anonymous) 2013-06-04 03:35 am (UTC)(link)
OMG! Yesss, I need this like I need air! This sounds delicious...and angsty...and sooo much potential.

Re: FILL: all the things we don't talk about, Reese/Finch, 9/?

(Anonymous) 2013-06-04 06:09 am (UTC)(link)
Feeeelings, yes, excellent! And now they're even talking. :D

FILL: all the things we don't talk about, Reese/Finch, 10/?

(Anonymous) 2013-06-05 06:37 am (UTC)(link)
When Finch opened his eyes, he saw Reese looking back at him, and sitting very still. He seemed very, very attentive.

"Finch, are you okay?" Reese asked. "The drug - were there any adverse reactions with the pain medications you are using?"

"No, no." He was concerned with Finch's health? "Please don't concern yourself with -"

"Do you feel violated?"

What? "No! No," Finch looked imploringly at Reese. "Mr. Reese, if anything, as your boss, if -"

Reese shook his head, and Finch's voice died in his throat. "Finch," Reese said, "the kind of work we do... Things happen. We're in the field, we see things and do things other people will hopefully never have to do. These aren't normal situations. And sometimes, things happen."

Finch felt as though all the things that had happened to Reese, the things he'd presumably filed under the label sometimes, things happen, had just wandered into the room and sat down at the table with them, and for a moment, he felt surrounded by pain and loss. "Mr. Reese, if I -"

"Finch. We were investigating a serial killer. A serial killer. He nearly killed you, Finch. What..." Reese looked suddenly tired. "What you and I did together isn't even in the top 5 worst things that happened that day."

Sometimes it was so easy to forget all the lifetime of terrible things Reese had been involved in. This was a man who said things like, "you look worried, Finch. Did your tailor leave town?", and giggled when he rolled around on the floor with a dog. How to reconcile that incredibly silly person with the Reese who now sat in front of him?

Finch pinched the bridge of his nose. He nodded. "Perhaps you would like to take the day off, Mr. Reese."

Re: FILL: all the things we don't talk about, Reese/Finch, 10/?

(Anonymous) 2013-06-05 09:16 am (UTC)(link)
oh finch

oh reese

oh absolute exquisite heartbreak

sorry no capital letters today you broke the shift key of my heart

(ahahaha and also my anonymity apparently, let's try this again <3)