(no subject)
Jun. 11th, 2010 11:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
skygiantsHi guys! A FEW POINTS:
a.) It's Friday.
b.) My laptop charger cable has broken, which means that until I get a new one shipped to me I will be working off of The Ancient Dead Laptop of Death or The Boring Work Laptop, which means a lot of the stuff I have been doing to feel productive is currently on pause.
c.) As you, uh, may have noticed, I seem to be unable to write anything these days that is not EPICALLY LONG.
d.) It's Friday!
As a result of all these things, I am asking a favor of you guys: give me drabble prompts! I would like to have short things to work on this weekend until I can get back to using my usual laptop. I would also like remind myself that it is possible to write fic that is not ten thousand words in length.
Feel free to toss me anything you think I would know; if I don't know it well enough to write, I'll tell you to give me something else.
a.) It's Friday.
b.) My laptop charger cable has broken, which means that until I get a new one shipped to me I will be working off of The Ancient Dead Laptop of Death or The Boring Work Laptop, which means a lot of the stuff I have been doing to feel productive is currently on pause.
c.) As you, uh, may have noticed, I seem to be unable to write anything these days that is not EPICALLY LONG.
d.) It's Friday!
As a result of all these things, I am asking a favor of you guys: give me drabble prompts! I would like to have short things to work on this weekend until I can get back to using my usual laptop. I would also like remind myself that it is possible to write fic that is not ten thousand words in length.
Feel free to toss me anything you think I would know; if I don't know it well enough to write, I'll tell you to give me something else.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2010-06-11 03:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-11 03:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-11 03:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-11 04:28 pm (UTC)Road trip.
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Date: 2010-06-11 05:02 pm (UTC)Though I strive to think of something more worthy of your talents!
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Date: 2010-06-11 05:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-11 05:30 pm (UTC)Ummm um um. Marcoh and Scar on their road trip!
Elrics in Kinkan Town!
Edit because I was reminded by somebody else's icon: some combination of the following: Hawkeye, Mustang, Howl, Sophie, and Calcifer. (I do not demand all five in a drabble. Although hey, if you wanna!)
I will stop editing in more prompts. Really. Honestly. Probably.
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Date: 2010-06-11 05:43 pm (UTC)Make it so.
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Date: 2010-06-11 05:46 pm (UTC)THAT IS INDEED THE RIGHT ICON FOR THAT REQUEST *dying*
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Date: 2010-06-11 05:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-11 06:35 pm (UTC)Tamaki, Kyouya,
Blanche Devereaux, and Sophia Petrillo, HARDISON, AND ELIOTno subject
Date: 2010-06-11 06:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-11 06:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-11 07:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-11 07:39 pm (UTC)Or her homework.
(OR Jamie stuck in Ouran universe?)
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Date: 2010-06-11 08:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-11 11:24 pm (UTC)BUT for the record, which I thought but have realized I forgot to actually type, I do not actually demand all of these! I am just tossing out ideas!
(Sometime I will do a drabble request post myself and you can inundate me.)
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Date: 2010-06-11 11:34 pm (UTC)Maybe you can make it twice as long or something? Or you could write me Parker and Kyouya bonding over a love of money.
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Date: 2010-06-11 11:35 pm (UTC)(you can um pick one.)
- Dangerous Ladies!! Either pre- or post-series. (I like flashbacks AND I like aftermath!)
- Appa. That is the prompt. Appa.
- Southern Water Triiibe! Post-series.
- Pre-series Azula and her mother!
- Ty Lee at the circus for the first time!
- Zuko attempting to write poetry for Mai, and Sokka's reaction.
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Date: 2010-06-12 12:31 am (UTC)Alternately, Kallandras gives Kenji singing lessons.
Alternately, the Serra Teresa and Riza Hawkeye discuss political strategies.
Alternately, all of these.
(Also I will totally write you fic in return, if you want, just be warned it will take me forever to write. I apologize for this.
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Date: 2010-06-12 09:29 am (UTC)2) Mustang and Hawkeye raburabu (or UST, I can always take UST)
3) Armstrongs and/or the Briggs battalion
... It's kind of obvious that I miss the FMA cast already, isn't it. COUGH. Not that I expect you to write ALL of the above... XD;;
a few leverage crossover snippets
Date: 2010-06-20 03:14 am (UTC)In Nanami’s mind, it’s so easy – she’ll “accidentally” open Parker’s locker; the set of handcuffs she planted in there yesterday will come falling out; Professor Hardison will say, “I’m disappointed in you, Parker! I didn’t think you were the kind of girl to bring handcuffs to school!”; and Operation: Parker-Is-A-Big-Weirdo-Who-Keeps-Handcuffs-In-Her-Locker will be an unqualified success!
Things start to go wrong pretty fast, though.
Boom.
“What was that!” Nanami shrieks, jumping backwards, as smoke starts to fill the hallway.
Hardison sighs and rubs his forehead. He doesn't even have to look at Parker. “You rigged it?”
“Uh, yeah,” Parker says. “I don’t want anyone going through my stuff.”
“Ain’t that cute,” Hardison says, amused in spite of himself. “What, you got like a diary in there or something?”
Parker gives him a don’t-be-stupid look in response. “No, my favorite pair of practice handcuffs.”
(The next day, Keiko leans over to Aiko and whispers, “Gosh, Nanami-sama kind of looks like a space alien with her eyebrows all singed like that, doesn’t she?”)
************************
Nate shades his eyes and squints up. “So that’s what this is all about, huh?”
“It is beautiful.” The sight is stirring some kind of deep emotion in Sophie; they can all tell when this happens because she closes her eyes and attempts to memorize the feeling to use later In Her Art. “You can almost understand why they all go so mad over it.”
“I dunno, I mean, it’s real nice, but it’s getting a little Super Mario up in here,” Hardison says. “Listen up, guys, ‘cause I’m calling it now – the princess is in another castle.” But he keeps staring upwards, and so does Eliot, who doesn’t say anything at all.
Parker looks blankly from one rapt face to the other. She peers up through her right eye. Then she peers up through her left. Finally she opens both eyes, wrinkles her nose, and hazards, “You mean the planetarium projector?”
*********************
“Oh no,” says Eliot. “Hell no.”
His opponent glares at him across the dueling arena, already brandishing his sword. (Too early, Eliot notes in a corner of his mind. If he were the kid’s teacher he’d tell him it doesn’t pay to pull out your weapon prematurely, but right now he’s got bigger things on his mind.) “What are you waiting for?” Saionji snarls. “Draw the sword!”
The light glints off of Anthy’s glasses, and off the hilt of the sword protruding from her chest. It’s very slightly possible that she looks disconcerted. “Eliot-sama . . .”
“I put up with the flowers,” Eliot says flatly. “I put up with the epaulets,” and those things better come off his favorite jacket, by the way, or someone is going to pay. He can hear Hardison snickering through the earbud, which is not helping. “Here’s where I draw the line. You wanna fight, you can take the boob-sword. I’m done."
********************
“You’re late tonight, Anthy.”
Anthy sits down on her bed, across from Utena’s. “I’m sorry, Utena-sama,” she says. “I was helping my brother. He hurt his hand.”
“Oh – is Akio-san all right?”
“He should be careful picking flowers. Sometimes they scratch him.”
“Poor Akio-san!”
“Poor brother,” Anthy agrees, hands folded demurely in her lap.
“I hope he wasn’t too badly – oh! Chuchu, leave that alone!”
Chuchu squeaks and claps his paws to his nose, and the insect he’s been grabbing at buzzes vengefully off. Utena blinks after it.
"Hey, aren't bees supposed to die after they've stung something . . .?"
"Oh," Anthy says, "that one must be a wasp."
Several buildings away, in the transfer-student-dorm-slash-temporary-Leverage-headquarters, Parker snaps, “I’m not a people person!” and storms off into the next room.
“We really have to remember not to ask her to do this kind of thing,” Nate says to Sophie.
“I know,” Sophie says, and sighs. “But did it have to be another fork?"
hahaha this may actually end up happening
Date: 2010-06-20 06:31 am (UTC)Today, for example - when she sees the headline in the paper, and can't react to it with anything except thinned lips and silence, not even a little bit, until she gets to Milliways and does what she's been longing to do, which is throw the newspaper down on the nearest table with extreme force.
This does not actually relieve her feelings as much as she’d hoped.
“. . . Mary?” Ingress frowns and picks up her tea, heading over to the table nearest the door. “Are you all right?”
Mary glares down at the paper, as if she can erase the headline by staring at it, and doesn’t answer for a moment. “What a fool!” she bursts out, finally. “How could she be so – we’ve still years of war left, and she hardly made it one!”
Ingress looks down at the headline. Unhelpfully, it’s in German. “Um . . . do you want to talk about it?” she hazards, although the answer already seems to be yes.
Mary stabs down a finger at the name: EDITH CAVELL.
“Executed by the Germans,” she says, the words suddenly clipped and short. “For treason.”
“Oh, Mary –” Ingress’ eyes widen. “She didn’t have your name, did she?” This isn’t a question Ingress would have thought to ask a few years back – but they teach you a lot of things when you put on a set of Grays. Espionage can certainly fall within a Herald’s job description. “Will you need to come here to hide? You know you can always stay at the House of Arch –“
“No - we were in the same line, but I didn’t know her,” Mary says, and Ingress relaxes a little. “They do try to keep us separate – for just that reason, of course. I ought to be safe as any of us will be now, but if the Germans will have got the wind up – we’ll have to be timid as mice, and not get half of what we might do done. I do not do well,” she adds, unnecessarily, “with timidity.”
“That’s sad, though,” Ingress says, looking again at the paper, and the picture of a trim elderly woman in a gray nurse’s uniform. “About Edith Cavell.”
Mary puts her hand down on the paper and then abruptly crumples it, her fingers pulling together savagely. “They’ll make it a national tragedy, I expect.”
Ingress looks at her friend’s drawn face, drained the color of sour milk. She wants to ask if she’s scared, but she’s known Mary long enough by now to know just how well that will go over.
“Be careful,” she says, instead.
“Well, I shall have to be now,” Mary says, which isn’t an answer, and then glances up at Ingress, and smiles, quick and wry. “And if I’m not, you may sit here with a newspaper headline and call me a fool.”
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Date: 2010-06-20 07:07 pm (UTC)When he was sixteen, Dallas went into a rage and ripped up all the photos of himself that he could find in the house. Eve managed to save a photo of herself and Dallas by the expedient of hiding it in a book of Poe’s short stories; the only place Dallas was less likely to look was her Bible, but somehow hiding a picture of Dallas in the Good Book felt disrespectful to the Bible and her brother both. She couldn’t get to any of the pictures of Geoffrey-and-Dallas in time, though. Dallas had gone after those first.
After that, the only pictures left in the photo albums were shot after shot of small Eve, demure little girl with her hands neatly folded, attentive to the photographer’s instructions. By the age of ten, she’d already become less enamored of having her picture taken, but she’d never had the heart to tell Benjamin and Samasa. Half the dresses she’s ever owned are immortalized here; in every one she sits alone, her skirts growing longer and her smiles more and more tentative as the years pass by.
She hasn’t looked at the photos in years.
She’s looking at them now – studying her own face, small pointed chin, light-colored locks. Anxious to look her best, anxious to please somebody unseen; smiling in every picture, even the most recent, the ones where she felt least like smiling. What a sweet, what a good little girl.
“Eve!” Samasa appears in the doorway, frowning over at her. “Eve, you decided what you’re gonna wear for the picture yet?”
“Yes,” Eve calls back, closing the photo album on the last picture of her, taken on her sixteenth birthday. She’s wearing now the same dress she did then; it’s pink, with puffed sleeves and ruffles around the waist. She spent some time considering her options before concluding that she liked pink and ruffles, and there wasn’t any good reason to change. “Is the Daily Days photographer here?”
“Yeah, Elean brought him on over. Listen, Eve, me and Elean are gonna go take in a movie, but Benjamin’ll be here. Don’t let that Daily Days no-good boss you around too much, all right?”
“All right,” Eve says, and sets the photo book aside.
A few weeks later, there’s a new entry to slide into the back of the photo album. A newspaper clipping, from an article about the Genoard business’ recent philanthropic projects – a human interest piece, accompanied by a picture of pretty little Eve Genoard herself, so young and such a tragic story; a newspaperman's dream.
In the photo, Eve doesn’t look much older than she did in her sixteenth-birthday picture. The outfits she chooses aren’t calculated for sophistication.
But she’s standing, hands straight at her sides and her chin is high, and she isn’t smiling.
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Date: 2010-06-21 12:23 am (UTC)