Meme of the drabblish variety
Apr. 29th, 2009 05:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
awanderingbardTaken from ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
donutsweeper with her modifications intact and mine added:
The first TEN people to comment in this post get to request a drabble or ficlet, or something of a pairing/character of their choosing from me (within reason, and a word prompt or suggestion along those lines would be nice). In return, they have to post this in their journal, regardless of their ability level. (You really don't have to do this though, unless you want.)
You know what I write and don't write for the most part, so go forth and request. I need to get my word faerie on the treadmill or something. She's slowing down.
donutsweeper with her modifications intact and mine added:The first TEN people to comment in this post get to request a drabble or ficlet, or something of a pairing/character of their choosing from me (within reason, and a word prompt or suggestion along those lines would be nice). In return, they have to post this in their journal, regardless of their ability level. (You really don't have to do this though, unless you want.)
You know what I write and don't write for the most part, so go forth and request. I need to get my word faerie on the treadmill or something. She's slowing down.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-04-29 10:55 pm (UTC)* Mai and Murphy, prompt word "Dresden!"
* Kirmani and Morgan, prompt word "waiting"
* Kaywinnit Lee Fry, exploring
* Pepper Potts, in the Iron Man suit
Voila!
Date: 2009-05-07 04:57 am (UTC)Kirmani didn’t like hospitals. They gave him the creeps. Ever since he was a kid and was forced to visit his Great-Aunt Maria as she wasted away. Of course, he wasn’t sure anyone actually liked hospitals. Except maybe doctors and nurses.
Connie was in surgery. So was Dresden, but that was less important to Kirmani. Dresden was the one who always got her into these messes. They were both full of shrapnel from the explosion. Kirmani had gotten away with a few scrapes and bruises. The other guy, the stony-faced black man, had gotten off without even any dirt on his perfectly-tailored suit. He was in the waiting room, too. He sat perfectly still, with a back as straight as if there were a stick soldered to his spine. Kirmani didn’t like him.
“You friends with Dresden?” he asked, as he paced by.
“Hardly,” the man said, looking disgusted at the thought.
“Why are you here then?” Kirmani said.
“Dresden saved my life,” the man explained. “If he dies from having done so, I’ll be very annoyed.”
Kirmani grinned. “I hear that. The guy has a serious saviour complex.”
“Indeed.”
Kirmani finally took a seat and they sat in silence for awhile, the other man never moving an inch. When a doctor in scrubs entered the waiting room, Kirmani leapt to his feet.
“I’ve finished with Lieutenant Murphy. She’s in the PACU. She isn’t out of the woods yet, but I think she’ll make a full recovery,” the doctor said. “Mr. Dresden has been in the PACU for awhile. His wounds were less severe and I have no doubt he’ll be fine.”
Kirmani was both relieved that Connie would be okay and annoyed that she was hurt worse than Dresden. The doctor left and Kirmani turned back to the other man to make a comment along those lines, only to find the chair empty, as though the man had never been there.
“I hate wizards,” Kirmani muttered.
He plunked back into his own chair and got ready for some more waiting.
Re: Voila!
Date: 2009-05-07 06:15 am (UTC)>I'll be very annoyed.
if Dresden were there, he'd probably say "why Morgan, didn't know you cared"....then again, if Dresden were there, no reason for Morgan to be there. :D
I love how well you animate Kirmani.
no subject
Date: 2009-04-29 11:19 pm (UTC)Sha-zaam!
Date: 2009-04-30 03:11 am (UTC)It always amazed Bob how quickly children could make a mess.
Harry was napping upstairs and had asked Bob to watch out for Mal and Fay for a bit. It wasn’t an unusual request and Bob was fairly good at corralling the children despite his inability to touch them. However, Mal had decided to take a stroll through the lower level of the townhouse and in the five or so minutes it had taken Bob to convince him to go back to the living room, Fay had managed to completely cover the coffee table in craft supplies.
“What are you doing?” he demanded, eyeing the explosion of glitter, crayons and pipecleaners with mild horror.
“Making Mother’s Day cards,” Fay said, matter-of-factly. She had a way of answering most questions as though the answer should be painfully obvious to anyone.
Bob winced as she narrowly missed knocking a vial of silver glitter off the table with her elbow. “Where did all of this come from?” he asked.
“The closet,” Fay said. She carefully drew a heart on a folded piece of construction paper, her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth. Harry’s did the same when he was in intense concentration.
“How did you get it from the closet?” Bob said.
“I stood on a chair,” she said. She got herself a new crayon and poised it over the heart. “How do you spell ‘happy’?”
“H-A-P-P-Y,” Bob said. He decided not to ask where the chair came from.
Fay wrote in large block letters on the construction paper. “How did you spell ‘mother’s’?”
“M-O-T-H-E-R-apostrophe-S,” Bob said. He drew an apostrophe in the air at her confused look. “And before you ask, day is D-A-Y.”
“I know that, Bob,” she said, giggling. She finished writing and picked up a glue stick, rubbing it over the heart. Then she picked up the silver glitter and unceremoniously dumped the whole thing on top.
Bob groaned under his breath. He didn’t even have time to decide how to prevent her from making a bigger mess before he could hear a crash coming from the kitchen. A quick look around told him Mal was missing again. He hurried off in pursuit, wondering if fifteen minutes was too short a time for Harry’s nap.
“Bob!” Fay called after him. “How do you spell ‘Murphy’?”
Re: Sha-zaam!
Date: 2009-04-30 03:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-30 12:44 am (UTC)Kirmani, family, borders
JARVIS, Windows Vista
The Doctor, holidays, cuisine
Torchwood, giving directions
Ta-da!
Date: 2009-05-01 03:44 am (UTC)Jarvis, while unable to actually experience concern for anyone, worried about Tony Stark. He was programmed to do so. He lived for it, so to speak. He kept a watchful eye on Stark, both at home and in his Iron Man suit and was quick to warn Stark should he attempt anything too dangerous.
Jarvis had programmed his own operating procedure in the face of imminent danger. It went as follows:
Step One: Warn Mr. Stark that what he is about to do is dangerous.
(87.6% of the time, step one resulted in failure.)
Step Two: Warn Mr. Stark that what he is about to do is dangerous, again.
(Oddly enough, this further warning was even less successful than the first. It only worked 5.28% of the time.)
Step Three: Provide statistics as to the level and probability of injuries likely to be incurred.
(In 51% of cases, this was effective. The probability of success increased if injuries were likely to affect the face and/or pelvic region.)
Step Four: Call Ms. Potts.
(Step Four was 100% effective.)
Today had required Step Four and Ms. Potts vocal signature was no longer detected in the workshop, which meant she must have succeeded in her task and left. This was further confirmed by Mr. Stark’s loud talking and pointing to the screen nearest to him.
“Jarvis, if you tattle on me to Pepper one more time, I swear to God I will install Vista on your ass!” Mr. Stark said.
Though he was incapable of actual concern, at such a terrible threat, Jarvis quickly reprogrammed the operating procedure, even as he explained to Mr. Stark that he, in fact, had no ass to be installed on.
Re: Ta-da!
Date: 2009-05-01 03:47 am (UTC)Thank you so much for writing this! I somehow really clearly hear Paul Bettany's voice going, "Yes, sir. Although may I point out that I have no ass to be installed on?"
no subject
Date: 2009-04-30 02:05 am (UTC)Voila!
Date: 2009-05-02 05:55 pm (UTC)Forrester didn’t mind paperwork too much. He found it was a good way to the end the day and leave everything at the hospital when he went home. He could review the cases he’d worked on and file them away. Of course, in order to do that, he had to decipher the scrawled notes he’d made throughout the day. It would be an insult to doctorkind if his handwriting was actually legible, but still. It was embarrassing when you couldn’t read your own handwriting.
“Le...” he tried to sound out the word. “Lu...lupus? No, it’s never lupus.”
The phone on his desk rang. He picked up the receiver and absently muttered “Forrester,” into it.
“Hello Forrester. This is Mrs. Forrester,” Samara’s voice came through the line. “You may remember me from our wedding day.”
“You do sound familiar,” he said, smiling. “You’re the cute brunette bird, right?”
“I am the beautiful and intelligent brunette bird,” she said, primly.
“Ah yes, I seem to recall someone of that description,” Forrester said. He was still trying to figure out the word in his head. Lennox? It was definitely an L word. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Forrester?”
Dishes clinked in the background “I am inviting you to dinner,” she said. “At our home, where you live. Do you think we could arrange something for this evening?”
“Landau!” Forrester said, triumphantly. “Landau-Von Hippel Syndrome!”
Samara was too used to her husband’s non-sequiters to be perturbed. “Yes, love,” she said, patiently. “I am making vegetarian lasagna, if that further entices you.”
“Consider me enticed,” Forrester said. His fingers tapped at the keyboard to finish off the report. “And I should be home at the proper dinner hour tonight.”
“Excellent,” she said, sounding very cheerful. “I will - “
A beep over the phone line interrupted her. Forrester glanced down at the phone to see that the second line was lit up. He glared at it, debated ignoring it, knew he never would and asked Samara to hold for a moment.
“Forrester,” he said, after pressing the correct button.
“Hey Doc, this is Nurse Laurie from, like, Emergency?” a young voice greeted him. Far too young to be a nurse, he always thought. “That Dresden guy just came in and I thought I should, like, let you know? You know, like a head’s up or whatever?”
Forrester rubbed the bridge of his nose. “What do you when he comes in and I’m not here?” he asked.
“We wait for you to come in,” she said, matter-of-factly.
Forrester had to grin at that, but it quickly disappeared along with the hopes of his vegetarian lasagna. “How badly is he hurt?” he said.
“Like, bad,” Laurie said.
“I’ll be down presently,” Forrester said, with a sigh. There was a confused noise on the other end. “Soon. I’ll be down soon.”
“Cool,” Laurie said. “Later, Doc.”
Forrester switched back to the other line. “Sammie?”
“I’ve already ordered pizza online,” she said, with amusement. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I love you,” he said, with feeling.
“You should,” she said.
Ten minutes later, Forrester arrived at curtain three in the ER, behind which a very battered looking Harry Dresden was lying on a gurney.
“Werewolves,” he said, matter-of-factly.
“Of course,” Forrester said, getting to work in examining the wounds. “You owe me vegetarian lasagna, Mr. Dresden.”
“Uh, the werewolves took my money,” Dresden said.
And, weighing the enjoyment levels of vegetarian lasagna, versus hearing a tale of lycanthropic muggers, Forrester had to admit that it wouldn’t be a complete loss. Besides, after he wrote that book on his experiences with Harry Dresden, he could retire on the profits and have all the lasagna he wanted.
Re: Voila!
Date: 2009-05-02 07:42 pm (UTC)So, um, YAY! Fabulous work as per usual!