a crummy world of plot holes and spelling errors

[bossymarmalade]

I wanted a drabble about Amy Abbott from rachel_wilder, so that means I have to do the meme myself, apparently.

The first TEN people to comment in this post get to request that I write a drabble of any pairing/character of their choosing. In return, they have to post this in their journal, regardless of their ability level. (Some other equivalent gift, like icons or mini-fanmixes or quickie meta, would make sense for people who don't write fic themselves.)

1. bayliss & pembleton, and hear the good news
2.
3. uhura/spock, my sign is vital
4.
5.
6.
7.
8. holmes & watson, the sun never sets
9. titus pullo, antevorta
10. uhura & sulu, the enterprise supper club, invitation only (er, plz excuse my dodgy science)

Offered fandoms: Homicide, Star Trek Reboot, The Simpsons, Twin Peaks, Rome, Futurama, Merlin, Sherlock Holmes, popslash, X-Men (only the regular continuity 'verse, y'all), or, uh, something else as long as I know it. Also, it will probably be a wee bit longer than a drabble.

Comments

[slide]

\o/ H: LOTS, that blind dude you don't li- okay kidding um, bayliss/pembleton! please...:)

[zarahemla]

Dark Tower? Yes please?

[devilc]

I've already offered in my LJ, so ...

Your choice --

Uhura flabbergasts Spock.

Frank-N-Tim being, well, Frank-N-Tim.

[alestar]

Sherlock Holmmmmmes. Also I will totally post this in my journal after help_haiti stuff gets writ. If that affects your drabbling decisions!



Sherlock Holmes

[alestar]

Although now I feel weird that I didn't request X-Men, which I also love.

[gloss]

The Simpsons - Marge or Lisa or Manjula or some gennish combination of the above. ♥

[tallycola]

Star Trek Sulu/Chekov because I am predictable

or

Futurama Fry and Leela doin' whatever? :D

Like alestar I think I'll post mine after my help_haiti story because right now I am notorious for not finishing anything lol.

[violetisblue]

Homicide, anything with Munch and Kay, or Star Trek AOS, anything with Uhura.

[thingswithwings]

oooh, ooooh, Sherlock Holmes, please! I am especially interested in Holmes/Watson/Morstan, or Watson/Holmes/Adler, or an OT4. Or Mary and Irene together! Or Holmes and Watson, really. It turns out I'm not actually very picky.

[bossymarmalade]

ahahah! I was totally having a flashback to that time I asked y'all to make me write stuff I hated. *g*

-----


"Oh, here -- let me get that--" Tim licks his thumb and aims it for Frank's forehead. This would be a bad idea even ordinarily, but Frank's been almost relaxed for the past couple of weeks, convivial even, and Tim's been lulled into a nice comfy sense of closeness.

Frank stops him dead with a glare, though, and Tim lowers his rapidly cooling thumb. "It's," he begins, but Frank's eyebrows go up so he snaps his mouth shut and puts the car into gear while Frank waves goodbye to Mary.

They're quiet for a few blocks before Frank dusts off his knees and remarks, "It's Wednesday." Tim nods noncommittally and keeps his eyes on the road. He can feel Frank staring at him. "The seventh week before Easter," Frank prompts, but Tim doggedly keeps mum until Frank says with a definite edge to his voice, "The first day of Lent, Christ, Tim -- I know that whatever secular hockey rink you went to school at probably didn't cover it, but after working with me for four years--"

"--I'd know when it's Ash Wednesday? Yeah, I got it, Frank. I *am* a detective, y'know, and, um ... why would I ever know about it from working with *you*? Considering you haven't been on speaking terms with Catholicism for most of that time!"

"faaaaaaaaah," Frank waves, but he doesn't follow up with anything so Tim lets himself grin a bit on the side of his mouth facing the window. Frank intones, "Remember, o man, that you are dust, and unto dust you shall return," and when Tim looks over Frank catches his glance and grins, big and wry.

"Cheerful stuff," he says, and Tim goes, "Hey, we're not murder police for nothing," and from the way Frank looks at him he knows it's gonna be another couple of good weeks.

[copracat]

Rome, Pullo and if you want a prompt: future.

[loveflyfree]

Star Trek please. Uhura being awesomesauce.

[bossymarmalade]

my sign is vital

"So," Jim says, with that gappy open-mouthed grin that he knows makes him irresistible, "I hear you dance. You're a dancer."

"I do, and I am," Nyota says indulgently. The fact that he doesn't follow this up (or hell, lead off) with some remark about the length or strength of her legs is telling; he knows her better now, and he's her captain. He still flirts, but he flirts with respect.

Jim refocuses past her and his grin gets wider. "Did you know about this, Spock?" he demands, and even without looking she can tell that Spock answers with a tip of the head. "It would be strange if I did not," Spock says, "as the lieutenant has made no secret of her many proficiencies." Hikaru clears his throat loudly and Nyota makes a mental note to smack him upside the head later.

"I'm just saying it's thought-provoking, that's all," Jim says, already distracted by something else. Nyota looks over at Spock, who quietly says, "Indeed," in a way that kindles instant heat in her belly and makes her swivel fiercely back to her workstation to concentrate on something -- anything -- else.

Later, though, they're alone in Spock's warm, warm quarters changed into more comfortable clothes and it's even harder to keep her hands off him. But--

"I have something I want to show you," Nyota tells Spock, allowing herself a single chaste kiss dropped on his cheekbone. He blinks slowly, restful after dinner and a long shift, but when she stands in front of him and arranges her body into the opening form of the routine there's a flicker in his long eyes.

Nyota has practised this for quite while, every day, intent on getting every tiny curl of toes and flex of shoulder absolutely, utterly, exhaustively perfect. But she finds that in the heat of Spock's room, her joints turn to liquid after a few movements and the entire routine takes on a different feeling. Can stateliness be sensuous? That's what it feels like, each form flowing into the other.

Before she finishes, Spock rises from the bed and slides his arms around her, taking her back to sit in his lap. She doesn't mind the interruption. She knows this might be overwhelming for him. "I ..." he begins, then closes his eyes briefly before saying with more sureness, "I certainly never performed the sha vah with such skill."

"You *were* very young," Nyota says. His fingers shift on her spine, burning-hot little skitters, as he pushes his nose into her hair and agrees, "yes ... and you performed it somewhat differently than Vulcan children generally do." His breath is soft; his fingers tighten, and he says, "Thank you," before they stop saying much at all.

[bossymarmalade]

the enterprise supper club, invitation only


"I want you to know," Sulu said, "that the only, and I mean the only, reason I'm here with you right now is because Pavel has a cold and spending another evening listening to him whine and curse is about the only thing worse than this."

"You love it," Uhura said serenely. Hikaru raised an eyebrow, which gave him that one-big-eye, one-small-eye look that secretly delighted her and that she maybe provoked him to produce more than she should.

"Love what? Being here, or Pavel's shenanigans?"

Uhura waved a hand. "Both. We are the only two people on this ship who really know what it's like to have epicurean taste in the unknown, as well as the trials and travails of dating moody little genius boys."

That incurred the whole-face crinkle, which Uhura loved even more than the different-sized eyes, if possible. "I so wish you wouldn't talk about Commander Spock that way," he muttered. "It makes it hard to not think about you two doing it when he's giving me orders on the bridge."

"Oh, really." Uhura levelled her own raised eyebrow and a smirk at Sulu until he snorted and turned his attention back to the table. "Okay," he said. "What is this again?"

"FFllurio misky-bo," Uhura supplied promptly, lifting a sealed cover from the platter. Pea-sized blobs of dark jelly quivered on the plate, and Sulu poked one with a fork and said, "Not bad. Looks kind of like tapioca pearl--" He paused when the misky-bo spun in a spiral, then melted into a gooey black puddle; it shivered for a moment, then slowly began raising up in bubbles, separating and firming into the blobby state again. He looked at Uhura, who could barely contain her glee.

"Aren't they fantastic?" she said. "FFllurio food-plants are hugely sensitive to mammalian sound frequencies, because the FFllurio people are the only natural predators and all speak--" she adjusted her voice without even blinking, trilling rapidly in the back of her throat so that her words -- there was no other way to describe it -- had frills on them, "like this due to their symbiotic relationship with FFllurio birds." She pointed at the plate as she spoke, and Sulu watched as the misky-bo shuddered and then turned perfectly transparent, more like ghosts of food than actual bits of jelly.

"So we're disrupting their response mechanism to the usual environmental stimulus of high voices," Sulu said, pitching his voice to slide up and down, watching in fascination as the blobs jerked and cycled frenetically through streaks of black and clear and a few on the edges half-melted. Uhura responded with a low-hum "mmm-hmmm" and the misky-bo pooled out until Sulu made a high chittering noise and the pool went clear, and then Uhura countered with a deep string of percussive noises with pops of fluting soprano and he held up his hands. "Okay, okay," he grinned, as the poor confused misky-bo jiggled and jittered on the plate. "I can't beat you there."

"Smart boy," Uhura smiled. "We ready?"

Sulu took a deep breath and clutched his fork. "We ready."

[loveflyfree]

*seal claps* oh darling this is perfect. I was cursing myself for not giving you a specific prompt, which was going to be food and then you READ MY MIND and gave it to me anyway. ♥

[tallycola]

Oh I love this! I like Sulu and Uhura's BFFness (I liked that in old TOS fics about them too), and they're both so... eccentric? I guess? that this totally fits my image of them. (I guess Sulu is more "eccentric" than Uhura, but my point is that they both have varied and unique talents and interests!)

[daedala]

A) This is lovely
B) I want to try this food!

[devilc]

On the floor laughing.

(Partly because Ralph once handed a customer a tissue so he could wipe the dirt off his forehead.)

I can so hear Frank's voice.

[devilc]

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Okay, I love the line about how Kirk now flirts with respect. And then that bit about how she's going to biff Sulu in the noggin, but ... learning that she learned the sha vah for him? And he's incredibly impressed and moved?

You made my grinchy heart melt.

[bossymarmalade]

antevorta

He's made offerings to Janus faithfully -- that is, as best he can, when he's got the time and the coin. Seeing the past for the future, that's something important. A good fighting man collects all the chips and splinters of his past to fashion a shield for himself.

Still, fuck Janus for a pinch-nosed bastard, because what's he ever done for Titus Pullo? Where was he that night under the streets when Pullo was slicing away fingers that dropped into the stream of sewage filth with unmistakable plish noises, and why didn't he mention that the fig-mouthed little noble watching the proceedings would one day be the first emperor of all Rome? Why not a hint of him when that she-wolf Gaia was putting silphium to Eirene's lips and sending poison trails to consume her womb? Why didn't Janus intervene that hot night in the carved ivory temple of the Egyptian queen, preventing Pullo from quickening her womb with the flint-eyed brat who's only just starting to lose his fine airs?

That last one, though. The boy is sleek and brown and grows like a grapevine in the warm olive oil of good Roman sun, and even if he sometimes mewls for how things were in Egypt, he's showing more interest in swords and bread and women lately and wanting Pullo's advice on all three. So not so bad, Janus, on that count.

Still. These things considered, it might be forgiven should Pullo bring his flowers and water to Porrima, instead, and to Hades with looking backward at all.

[copracat]

Oh *hearts* you. Pullo in all his right colours and textures is like a tasty banquet.

[bossymarmalade]

the sun never sets


Sitting back-to-back in a pitch black cellar, as it turned out, was even more dull in practice than it was in theory. If it weren't for the pressure of Holmes' tense spine against his, Watson wasn't entirely sure that he would've remained awake and upright; his ability to spend long periods on the alert had been rattled and reduced dreadfully after he'd been wounded in Afghanistan.

"Steady on, old boy," Holmes murmured, and Watson realized he'd sighed aloud for possibly the third time in as many minutes. The crack of faint light in the floor that he was monitoring hadn't changed since he'd begun monitoring it, but at this point he was so bored and tired that he was starting to see flickers where none existed.

"Perhaps you miscalculated this time," he suggested, pitching his voice low. "Perhaps they won't actually make any attempt to enter these premises tonight."

Holmes' voice was smooth and unruffled when he replied, "Nonsense. To postpone their entry till tomorrow night would mean adding one extra day to an already time-sensitive operation and greatly multiply their chances of being discovered by the residents; they *must* make their move tonight, or forfeit entirely." His shoulders squared against Watson's, making the doctor unconsciously mirror the movement so they remained matched in pressure and frame. "I do apologize," Holmes continued, his voice taking on a decidedly unctuous tone, "if I am taking you from any husbandly duties you would rather be pursuing."

Watson had, as a matter of course, just at that moment been thinking wistfully of his bed and a hot water bottle taking the persistent cold from his ankles, Mary sitting to unpin her hair and shake it out with the sudden waft of lilacs. It was far beyond Watson's mental acuities at the moment to attempt retracing whatever it was that had alerted Holmes to this line of thought -- he'd shifted his hips to one side, perhaps, or snuffled when he might have sniffed -- but it was desperately unfair that even in the darkness, his friend was able to bring him up unawares.

"Mary knows that you need my assistance from time to time," Watson said, as blandly as he was able. "And she gives her blessing each time I mention it to her, as I routinely do. We keep nothing from each other." Holmes made no acknowledgement of this piece of information, either verbally or physically, and Watson felt a perverse pleasure in the silence.

After a few moments, however, Holmes remarked in a colourless tone, "Rather unusual for a young married couple to be so transparent with each other," and Watson smiled in the darkness as there was no-one to see it.

"It is, I suppose," he said. "But I adhere to an invaluable piece of advice passed on to me by my nani, a singular woman of great wisdom and fortitude; she told me to never conceal anything important from my wife, but even more than that, to never conceal anything trivial."

"A pithy enough -- if rather flannelly -- homily, Watson," Holmes said. "You've never mentioned this nanny before, however, and I find it peculiar that you should have had one at all, given what I know of your upbringing."

Watson gingerly shifted his game leg before answering, the pain making him rather more brusque than he intended: "I learned not to mention her, as I grew quite tired of chaps referring to me as having a touch of the tar brush." Holmes' head shifted at this statement, his hair trailing against the back of Watson's neck and breath suddenly much closer to Watson's ear as he continued, "I referred not to an English 'nanny', I'm afraid, but 'nani', as one's maternal grandmother is referred to in the Hindi language."

Holmes turned his head back and his shoulder blades knifed against Watson as he digested this new revelation. "My dear Watson," he said finally, voice soft as breadcrumbs, "just when I start to believe that I have every inch of you figured out."

"All the available evidence suggests that I'm closer to saying that about *you* than for it to hold true the other way 'round," Watson pointed out, and for once, Holmes was inclined to agree.

[crossedwires]

Heh. I just watched the episode in which Tim goes on about being a religious mutt. <3

[crossedwires]

♥

[crossedwires]

Oh, this is fantastic. I love their friendship here. And the food! :D