(no subject)
Apr. 30th, 2009 12:13 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fearlessfanI'm experiencing one of those periods where I'm sure I'll never finish another story EVER AGAIN, which I go through every so often, but this time it intersected with a meme I saw pop up on my flist, which I am going to try:
The first TEN people to comment in this post get to request a drabble (100 words) of any pairing/character of their choosing from me. You're under no obligation to post this back to your LJ if you request something, as the rules have stated. Also, a prompt would be super-helpful in addition to the pairing/character request, if that's possible, since I've been feeling about as creative as a potted plant lately.
Warning part I: I only have access to my LJ and the e-mail account associated with it at night, and the stupid 'M' key is semi-busted on my laptop, so it might take me a bit to respond and get the drabbles written.
Warning part II: I've never written drabbles, so there's a good chance these will be horrible!
And now after that enticing marketing campaign, a list of fandoms I think I could write in, which is kind of a random hodgepodge of shows I've been watching lately and shows I have always loved and repeatedly offer for Yuletide but am never assigned:
30 Rock
American Dreams
Chuck
Fringe
Keen Eddie
The Mentalist
Newsradio
The Office (US)
Psych
Terminator: the Sarah Connor Chronicles
In other news: there is no other news.
The first TEN people to comment in this post get to request a drabble (100 words) of any pairing/character of their choosing from me. You're under no obligation to post this back to your LJ if you request something, as the rules have stated. Also, a prompt would be super-helpful in addition to the pairing/character request, if that's possible, since I've been feeling about as creative as a potted plant lately.
Warning part I: I only have access to my LJ and the e-mail account associated with it at night, and the stupid 'M' key is semi-busted on my laptop, so it might take me a bit to respond and get the drabbles written.
Warning part II: I've never written drabbles, so there's a good chance these will be horrible!
And now after that enticing marketing campaign, a list of fandoms I think I could write in, which is kind of a random hodgepodge of shows I've been watching lately and shows I have always loved and repeatedly offer for Yuletide but am never assigned:
30 Rock
American Dreams
Chuck
Fringe
Keen Eddie
The Mentalist
Newsradio
The Office (US)
Psych
Terminator: the Sarah Connor Chronicles
In other news: there is no other news.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2009-04-30 04:53 am (UTC)This is atrociously late! Part 1
Date: 2009-06-20 09:04 pm (UTC)"It was not a dream," Dwight says, trying to get off the ground next to his car, but Pam puts a hand on his shoulder. He glares at her. "I'm fine."
"That's what you said a minute ago," Pam says. "When you-"
"I did not faint!"
"Okay, okay," Pam says. "When you, uh, suddenly decided that sitting down on the ground was a really good idea."
"With your eyes closed," Jim adds, flipping open his cell phone.
"What are you doing?"
"Calling Michael, telling him we're taking you-"
"You're not taking me anywhere," Dwight says, and this time he's too quick for Pam's restraining hand, and makes it to his feet. He feels a little wobbly, but stays upright. "See?"
"You're kind of tilting to one side there, buddy," Jim says, putting a hand on Dwight's arm.
Dwight brushes him off. "I'm not your buddy."
"Wow," Jim says. "You're even crabbier than usual when you're hungover."
"I'm not hungover. I'm obviously working through the after-effects of some kind of tranquilizer."
"Like, say, vodka?"
"I think Dwight's more of a beer man," Pam says, with a thoughtful expression that causes Dwight to roll his eyes and walk away.
They catch up to him by the elevator, where Jim stops him before he presses the button. "So you're seriously telling us that you came across a trio of covert ops in the Dunder Mifflin parking lot last night?"
"Yes," Dwight says. "They were breaking into that new computer company that came in downstairs. Pivot, or something? Anyway, I caught them in the act, and one of them identified themselves as NSA and the other as CIA."
"I thought you said there were three," Pam says.
"The other one said it was too complicated to explain." Dwight looks over at Jim and Pam, who are now at least listening to his explanation. "Anyway, I caught them, attempted to stop them, and then-"
"And then?" Pam prompts.
"And then I woke up in my car," Dwight says, shrugging.
This is atrociously late! Part 2
Date: 2009-06-20 09:04 pm (UTC)"Nope," Dwight says, remembering those few minutes before everything went black.
"Don't call the cops," the It's Complicated guy had said, his hands up and wide-open in a gesture of panic Dwight would never have expected to see on the face of someone so involved in national security. Dwight was a little disappointed to see it.
"Don't get clever," the NSA guy said, cocking a weapon. Dwight kept his face stone-still but inside, he smiled; this was how America's last line of defense should act, and look. "You'll regret it."
"I think it's my civic obligation to ask for some kind of identification."
The NSA guy rolled his eyes, but the CIA girl flashed a badge. "Okay?"
Dwight nodded, even though he hadn't gotten a good look at it. She was too pretty for him to work up the nerve to ask to see it again. She looked to all-American to be a terrorist spy, anyway. Still, Dwight had some concerns.
"They give badges to the CIA? And are you allowed to operate within our borders? I thought that-never mind," he said, when he saw the irritation on their faces, and remembered something he'd spent a long time trying to put behind him. "Wait. Is this a recruitment tool?"
"What?" It's Complicated said.
"Is this the mission? Am I supposed to prove myself in order to join your ranks? I've submitted several applications to both of your agencies - multiple times - but have never gotten anything more than a form letter back, but maybe that's because this is how you do things. And if it is, let me tell you, I'm ready. I'm more than ready. I'm-"
"Oh for the love of - we don't have time for this," NSA guy said, putting his gun away, and pulling out another gun away, this one a little bigger, not one Dwight recognizes.
"What are you-" Dwight asked, and before he could finish, felt a sharp pain in his neck. The next thing he remembered was the sight of Jim outside his driver's side window, knocking on the glass to wake him up.
Now Jim is pressing the button to call the elevator, looking straight ahead, trying not to smile and mostly failing. Dwight looks at that little smile, at the way Pam is wearing almost the same expression, and reaches up to feel the side of his neck, which is still tender. He opens his mouth to tell them about it, and make them look, but the elevator arrives just as he's about to. In the time it takes him to get on and press the button for Dunder Mifflin's floor, Dwight remembers; it was a covert mission. Secret. The three operatives had left him alive.
Maybe it was a test that lasted more than a night.
"I guess maybe it could have been a dream," Dwight says, pulling his collar forward in case there's a mark on his neck where the dart must have hit. He's watched Alias enough to know how important it is not to give things like that away.
.end.
Re: This is atrociously late! Part 2
Date: 2009-06-20 10:39 pm (UTC)Re: This is atrociously late! Part 2
Date: 2009-06-20 11:01 pm (UTC)And oh, apologies for taking so long to write this. Am late with everything! Major personal flaw!
Re: This is atrociously late! Part 2
Date: 2009-06-21 02:45 am (UTC)Re: This is atrociously late! Part 2
Date: 2009-06-21 10:44 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-04-30 05:38 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-04-30 12:09 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-20 10:33 pm (UTC)Super late and possibly terrible! I always have a hard time writing Ryan.
Date: 2009-06-20 10:32 pm (UTC)"Hey, aren't you-" one guy asked, leaning forward and squinting. The guy, Todd Zambrano, had been on Mock Trial with him in high school, usually on the defense while Ryan was on prosecution, and Ryan heard that he was graduating from law school soon.
"Nope," Ryan said, shoving the shoes across the counter.
Todd shook his head, squinted again. "You look just like this guy I went to-"
"Sorry," Ryan said.
"No, man, you totally are! You're Ryan Howard! Nice try, but I'd know you anywhere. Man," Todd said, taking in the surroundings. "What happened to you?"
That night Ryan went home and dyed his hair, enough of a disguise to throw off the next drunken former classmate to come in.
He still doesn't miss the bowling alley, and he never thought he'd miss anything about the Michael Scott Paper Company either; at the time, he'd spent his days listing the things he hated: the early morning delivery runs, crappy office space, laughable salary. He hadn't liked sitting next to Pam's prim neatness, her obsession with Doing Work and Accomplishing Things.
Then he came back to Dunder Mifflin and was put at a desk next to Meredith.
"Hey, Hot Stuff," she says, when he gets up to get a letter off the printer. "Do me a solid and grab me some paper clips while you're up."
Meredith is a big fan of While You're Up, seems to spend her whole day waiting for Ryan to slide his chair back so she can tell him to get or do something for her. Paper clips, a fax from her gynecologist, chips from the vending machine, the thermos from her car. The list is varied and endless.
"Paper clips," Ryan repeats this time, staring her down.
"God, it won't kill you," Meredith says, rolling her eyes.
It'll actually give him a few more seconds away from his desk, so Ryan stops by the supplies after going to the printer. He's holding up two boxes of paper clips, trying to decide which size Meredith wants, when Pam comes up next to him.
"Hey," she says. "How's it going?"
"Fine," Ryan says.
"You know, you don't have to do stuff like this," Pam says. "She's not your boss, she shouldn't treat you like her personal servant. If you keep doing it, she'll keep asking."
"I know," Ryan says, remembering how Pam never asked Ryan to get or do anything for him; in fact, it was the other way around, most of the time. She'd never given in, usually responded by pretending not to have heard the request, until one day she kind of lost it.
"Think I should take a page from your book?" Ryan says. "Ask her if her legs are broken and tell her to get it herself?"
"It worked for you and Michael," Pam says, smiling. She looks prettier when she smiles, it's usually the only time Ryan can understand Jim dumping Karen for her. That, and when she does stuff like this, looking out for him for no good reason Ryan can think of. There's something surprisingly nice and not annoying about being on the receiving end of her concern.
"Anyway, it's no big deal," Ryan says. "It gets me away from my desk for a few."
"Ah," Pam says, looking over at Meredith, who has hoisted one foot up on her desk to clip her toenails. "I can see why that could be a plus."
"Ryan, come on, what's taking so long? I need to do my cuticles," Meredith calls across the office, and then, when everyone looks at her, "What? I'm on break."
Ryan sighs and shakes the boxes in front of him. "Better get back there."
"Yep," Pam says, and takes the box of large paper clips out of his hand. "Meredith likes the small ones."
"Thanks," Ryan says.
.end.
Re: Super late and possibly terrible! I always have a hard time writing Ryan.
Date: 2009-06-21 04:12 am (UTC)Re: Super late and possibly terrible! I always have a hard time writing Ryan.
Date: 2009-06-21 10:56 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-04-30 06:55 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-23 03:14 am (UTC)Anyway, I hope everything is going well with you! And here's a little Mentalist ficlet, Grace/Wayne working late at the office.
- - - -
Grace knows about paying her dues. It had been one of the big minuses on the pro-con list she drew up when she first thought about joining the CBI: having to go back to being the person who stays back at the station and mans the phones, does the most tedious follow-up interviews, and - most of all - finishes up all of the paperwork.
In the end, the pluses on the list outweighed the cons easily, and so Grace traveled west and most of the time, she's glad. On nights when the rest of the team cuts out at six and she's still there hours later re-typing one of Cho's reports because his handwriting is nearly illegible- well, on those nights, it's harder to remember all those pros she came up with.
"Van Pelt, you still here?"
"Rigsby," Grace says, a hand to her heart. "You scared me."
"Sorry," he says, walking over to her desk and stopping just short, his hands in his pockets. "What are you still doing here?"
"Just finishing up some paperwork."
"Cho's reports?" Rigsby shakes his head. "His handwriting is awful, right?"
"Yeah, how'd you know?"
"I was the last new guy before you. Well, except for Jane, but he's not into this kind of stuff." Rigsby considers. "Also, I don't think Boss would let him."
"Probably a good choice," Grace says, and looks at the time. "Hey, I know why I'm here, but what about you?"
"I was using the shooting range in the basement. It helps me relax," Rigsby says, and then looks a little panicked. "Not that, you know, I'm crazy into guns or shooting people or anything. It's just-"
"Rigsby, relax," Grace says. "I get it. I've gone down there myself when I need to blow off some steam."
"Yeah?" Rigsby looks like he doesn't quite believe her, but wants to.
"Yeah. So no worries." Grace watches as he shifts his weight, trying to decide what to do with himself. He wants to stay, she can tell, and the smart move would be for her to say something right now. Say she's done with her paperwork, or that she's going to finish it up at home; anything to give him a graceful way out, a subtle rejection that would save his pride before he makes any kind of overture.
It's something Grace has been doing regularly since she joined the CBI, shooting down Wayne Rigsby in the gentlest way possible, and it should get easier with practice. Most things do. But this doesn't; it gets harder and harder each time she has to look up into his face, which is never quite guarded enough, and say something to put more distance between them.
"You, uh," he says now, moving a bit closer to her desk. "You need some help?"
Grace knows what her answer should be. She knows because she didn't need to come up with a pro-con list on this subject when she started at the CBI. She knew that her career was worth more than anything Wayne Rigsby could offer her.
It's still true, all these months later. It is.
Rigsby moves a bit closer to her desk, picks up a page of Cho's notes. He ignores the fact that she never answered his question. "I used to think that he just scribbled randomly to mess with me."
"Wondered that myself," Grace says, and doesn't say anything when Rigsby takes the seat adjacent to her desk. She can smell the gunpowder on his clothes and his hair gel, stronger than it should be since it's almost eight at night. She looks at him more closely as he squints at the paper in front of him and sees how carefully his hair has been arranged, realizes he must have fixed it before coming in to see her. And it's things like that - all the stupid, dorky things he does that should make her feel embarrassed and sorry for him - that somehow make him dear to her. Make it harder for her to come up with any cons at all where he's concerned.
He catches her looking at him. "What?"
"Nothing," she says. "Thanks for the help."
.end.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-04-30 03:26 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-25 05:14 am (UTC)- - -
Meg doesn't just decide to vote for Barack Obama, she makes her daughter show her how to use his website to volunteer and buys three different campaign T-shirts. She wears one of them on election night, HOPE spelled out in bold letters under Obama's face. Sitting on the edge of her living room couch, she knows she doesn't need hope anymore. She has polling data, trend lines, and an understanding of the electoral college that her high school government teacher wouldn't have believed her capable of. She knows Obama is going to win. Still Meg can't quite let herself relax, because she'd known other things, too: that Robert Kennedy would win the presidency and end the war in Vietnam, and that no one would give Nixon a second term.
As it gets closer to ten, the time she knows to be the earliest the network will call it, she feels the loose energy in the room change, become charged. She watches her husband pull out a cell phone to check the time, and her daughter lean forward to refresh the information on her laptop. Meg opens her mouth to ask her what she sees, but before the words can get out, she sees the graphic for herself on her TV screen: Barack Obama, President of the United States. And as it registers, as she hears the celebration of people in Grant Park through her television and her family in her living room, she feels something that had torn apart a long time ago knit back together.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-28 11:38 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-30 03:45 am (UTC)Also, that icon is adorable!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-04-30 04:13 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-30 04:55 am (UTC)- - -
Jack knew right away. He didn't admit it out loud to anyone; not to Helen until a long time after, certainly never to his brothers or his friends. But he'd known from their first meeting that he'd end up marrying Helen Dolan, and not just because she was the prettiest girl he'd ever seen (though she was). Maybe it was because she carried the same poise she'd have as an adult when she was sixteen, and it was even more mysterious then to Jack. Maybe it was simply that she felt so nice in his arms; he danced with her three times at the church mixer where they first met. Maybe it was a lot of little things that came with those dances - the sound of her voice when she said yes, the way her hand rested on his shoulder, the kindness in her eyes when he spun her into another couple while they were dancing.
"Sorry," he said, and felt his face go red in embarrassment. "You all right?"
"I'm fine." She didn't say anything more than that, but she didn't try to step away from him, either. If anything, the gentle pressure of her hand on his shoulder became more definite, a gesture meant to comfort him even though they'd only met a few minutes before. Maybe it was that.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-06 05:50 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-06 11:21 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-04-30 04:50 pm (UTC)Or, since I saw a glaring omission from your list, I shall just point to my icon and smile very very sweetly.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-04-30 10:09 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-04-30 10:44 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-01 05:15 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-01 07:04 am (UTC)Castle
Date: 2009-05-19 12:37 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-04 12:08 am (UTC)I'll write it anyway, but I was happy to see that someone else out there 1) ships Sun/Tom & 2) even knows what Broken Trail is! So hey there!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-04 03:14 am (UTC)In other words: Yes, I am still interested.! In fact, I would LOVE it if you wrote a Broken Trail story! I've put that request in each of the three times I signed up for Yuletide, and I was planning to put it in again, because I'm still longing for more of the Sun/Tom love story. I've gone out hunting for Sun/Tom fic, too, and haven't found anything, either!
Thank you so much for this awesome comment! I can't seem to stop using exclamation points!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-04 12:46 pm (UTC)I totally understand the exclamation points problem when it comes to this fandom. Well, I hope I'll write something you'll enjoy. Best start work on it asap - the other option is to actually work here at the office. Blech.
ETA: Oh, I meant to ask if you've read the book of Broken Trail by Alan Geoffrion? The story ends differently from the movie. Sun goes to San Francisco, and there's more direct sexual interaction between Sun & Tom on the trail (not physical, but there's a scene where he watches her bathe in the river and she is aware of it). I read it after seeing the movie and shipped them even more!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-07 06:36 am (UTC)I actually haven't read the Broken Trail book. I think I picked it up in the bookstore once and skipped to the end to see how it ended (terrible, terrible thing to do!) and was disappointed to see how the Sun/Tom story played out there, so I never picked it up. But hearing that there was more stuff going on over the course of the novel makes me rethink it - I might have to track it down!
Again, I can't tell you how totally thrilled I am at the prospect of this story! Yay!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-07 01:43 pm (UTC)Thomas Haden Churchthe ensemble cast.But at least in the book Heck Gilpin lives (I think) whereas in the movie his chest gets blown open to kingdom come. Boo hiss.
I started the fic last night. I'm a slow writer & have been toying with different plots for a couple years, but I only discovered Yuletide a little while ago so I had no idea there was someone out there to motivate me to get my butt around to finally putting something on paper. So thanks! :D I truly hope to have it done relatively soon!