15 x 100
Okay, that was actually a lot of fun! Being challenged to write exact-wordcount bits in fandoms and pairings outside my usual range lets me stretch my writing muscles without any big commitment. I did 12 of these last night (in between reading my flist and chatting with elementalv) before I started feeling really sleepy; the last 3 were finished this morning. I'm reposting them all here grouped by fandom, for your convenience and mine.
These are just quickie writing exercises and so not the most polished and careful stories in the world. But I think most of them are decent, and I especially like the ones I wrote for shayheyred and malnpudl.
bethbethbeth: SGA, Wraith/John
"That is him," hissed a Wraith voice. "John Sheppard. Do you remember me?"
"Yeah," said John. "I saved your life. Then again, you saved mine, so I guess we're even."
"You think a mere human life equal to one of ours?"
"I wouldn't say equal, exactly." Which was true, although probably not the way the Wraith meant it. The Wraith stepped closer, looming above him, and John could smell his disturbing, alien breath. "You gonna kill me now?"
"As I said before, there is much about Wraith that you do not know," said the Wraith, just before he kissed him.
riverlight: SGA, team, the Atlanteans throwing a party
"So on Earth you dress like something that is frightening?" said Teyla.
"Yeah," said John. "Ghosts. Clowns. I guess here you'd dress up as a Wraith."
"Then why do you give them candy?"
"It's just the way things are done."
"Why would a Wraith want candy?" interjected Ronon.
Suddenly, behind them Rodney yelled "Trick or Treat!" He was wearing an odd costume, orange and yellow with a conical hat.
"Don't tell me. A ZPM?" John gave him some candy, and Rodney happily went off to bother someone else.
"I get it," said Ronon. "Too bad that doesn't work on Wraith."
oxoniensis: due South, Dief, beef jerky
So the Mountie and the dog walk in. I know, no dogs in the store, but I know them. He's talking to his dog, something about pelicans, which makes no sense, and then the dog puts his paws against the counter and grabs a box of Slim Jims in his teeth and trots over to the Mountie.
"I fail to see…oh," he says in a different voice, looking at the label. "Very high in fat and protein. I suppose you're right." And he buys it.
Next day, the dog comes into the store alone. With a twenty in his mouth.
china_shop: due South, Ray/Ray, roadworks
"Slow down," said Ray. "You're going to wreck the suspension."
"I know how to drive, Vecchio."
"Then slow down, already." The car was bouncing heavily over the uneven dirt where the asphalt had been torn up, grinding noises coming from somewhere in the undercarriage. "You want we should break down and spend the night out here?"
"Would that be so bad?" said Kowalski, his voice suddenly husky.
Ray swallowed. "You slow down, we make it to your place in one piece."
"Don't know if I can wait that long."
Ray slid his hand across Kowalski's thigh. "Then pull over, now."
malnpudl: Slings & Arrows, something with the Oliver-Geoffrey-Ellen dynamic
"So, Oliver." Furtively, Ellen looked around the empty theatre, just in case anyone would overhear and think she had gone crazy. "If you're really around. Um. Are you?"
No answer, but she didn't really expect one.
"I just wanted to say, well. Geoffrey's doing a good job. He's doing fine. If you could see the show I think you'd approve. Okay?"
No answer.
"Anyway. That's all."
"What's all?" said Geoffrey, behind her, and she whirled.
"What? Nothing! I didn't hear you come in," she said nervously. He was looking over her shoulder. "What are you looking at?"
"Nothing," said Geoffrey.
primroseburrows: Slings & Arrows, Geoffrey/Ellen, rain
She'd searched the house twice before looking out the window; there he was, pacing, his hair plastered to his face and his skin shining wetly under the streetlight. Oh, God, she said to herself, not again, and she opened the door and stepped outside, into the storm.
"Geoffrey!"
He looked blankly at her. "Who are you?"
"Come back inside," she urged him, and soon they were dripping in the foyer.
He smoothed back her wet hair. "Poor drowned Ophelia," he said, kissing the top of head.
"I love you," she whispered, knowing the tears didn't show on her wet face.
verstehen: Heroes, Peter and Claire
Peter shrugged. "He said, 'Save the cheerleader, save the world.' That's all I know."
"And I'm the cheerleader."
"I guess," he said. But he looked skeptical.
"What, I don't look special?" Angrily she grabbed a knife off the kitchen counter and slashed her forearm with it. "You have no idea," she said, as the skin knit itself together under their combined gaze.
He looked in her eyes. "Maybe I do," he said, gently taking the knife from her hand. He winced as he cut his own arm, then held it up so she could see it heal. "Maybe I do."
shayheyred: Heroes, Hiro, the samurai sword
It was wrong to use his powers for personal gain. Heroes were above that. They saved children from speeding trucks, saved big cities from nuclear destruction.
But it was wrong that this American museum held such a sacred treasure of his homeland. The sword was not meant to be displayed in a glass case; it was meant to be used. True, Hiro was a salaryman, not a samurai. But he was a hero. And the picture Mendez had drawn showed him with this very sword.
The guard breathed in; the sword was there.
He breathed out, and it was gone.
gaycrow: HP, Snape/Harry, black cat
Snape sniffed audibly when Harry swerved off the path. "Surely you are not frightened of a mere cat?"
Harry scuffed his feet in the dirt. "Just instinct. Aunt Marge was always going on about not letting black cats cross your path. Sorry."
"Stupid Muggle superstition! There's nothing remotely dangerous in --"
Suddenly, the cat's fur rippled and changed, and its shape elongated, expanding, turning into…
"Minister Fudge!" gasped Harry.
"Why, hello, dear boy," said Fudge, beaming.
"Excuse us," gasped Snape, pulling Harry off the path and into the trees.
"See?" said Harry.
"Your Aunt Marge is a wise woman," said Snape.
accioslash: HP, Snape/Black, flaming bag of poo
As soon as James opened the common room door, the smell of burning feces wafted in from the corridor.
Behind him, Remus wrinkled his nose. "What is that horrid stench?"
James extinguished the flames with his wand, then bent to see the writing on the brown paper sack. "Sirius! You have an admirer!"
"Don't tell me. Snivellus?"
"Who else?"
"Better than last week's puddle of vomit," muttered Remus.
"Maybe so," said Sirius. But he preferred the vomit, which meant 'meet me in the greenhouse.' Flaming poo meant 'by the lake' - they'd have to watch out for the squid tonight.
scriggle: Wilby Wonderful, Emily and Duck, breakfast at Iggy's
Emily seemed to be hovering over his table, giving him coffee refills before he asked, grabbing the salt and pepper from another booth when she saw him looking around. Even when she'd retreated to behind the counter, he felt her eyes on him.
Finally he reached out and touched her wrist as she poured yet more coffee into his cup. "You okay?"
"Yeah," she said, biting her lip. "Um. Dan okay?"
"He'll live."
"But is he okay?" she persisted.
He looked up, saw the unspoken question in her eyes. "Yeah," he said. He gave her a reassuring smile. "He's okay."
pearl_o: HCL, Joe/Billy, teenagers
"Okay, children, break it up, time to go home," said Joe, unceremoniously throwing the door open.
"You fucker," said Billy. The girl - Jeanie, Gina, something like that - had her shirt off, and her hands were rubbing his dick through his jeans. He groaned when she moved them away.
Joe handed the girl her shirt. "Time to go," he repeated. When the door had closed behind her, he slid close. "Aw, she left you hanging," he said, running his hand across the bulge behind Billy's zipper. "She's too young for you."
"You're just jealous."
"Maybe," said Joe, pulling the zipper down.
omphale23: HCL, Billy/Mary the Fan
Afterwards, Mary always felt a little sad and hollow. She told herself she was being silly, that she was special, but she couldn't help wondering whether there was another woman in the next city that thought the same thing. Probably there was.
Billy must have seen something in her face, because his arm tightened around her naked waist, pulled her in close against his body. "You're my girl," he whispered, nuzzling into the space between her neck and shoulder, and she sighed and snuggled back against him.
"Yeah," she murmured into the air. It was true, if only for tonight.
riadsala: Master and Commander, Stephen and Jack, wine and toasted cheese
The wind had been contrary since the Canaries, and the ship's supplies had been sadly depleted. Even the once-plentiful fish scorned their hooks, and day after day the men pulled in nothing but seaweed.
Killick served them a meager supper from their pitiful stores: hard, weevil-ridden biscuit, toasted cheese, and the last of the claret, grumbling all the while, and when he'd left the room, Jack tilted his glass toward Stephen. "To better times."
"I'd sooner eat ship's biscuit with you than roast beef with the King," Stephen replied as he drank.
"Traitor," said Jack, but his eyes were twinkling.
trobadora: The Administration, Toreth, habits and rituals
It wasn't a superstition. Superstitions were for stupid people, and Toreth wasn't stupid. It was merely a game. Sometimes he won and sometimes he lost.
Naturally, he preferred winning.
The game went like this. When he went out for a fuck, he counted people wearing hats. An even number, or zero, predicted success. Odd, and he didn't bother.
After meeting Warrick became a regular event, Toreth tried to stop noticing hats. But it was reflex, automatic. He counted, and if it came out odd, he'd go round the block until the numbers came out even.
But it wasn't a superstition.
These are just quickie writing exercises and so not the most polished and careful stories in the world. But I think most of them are decent, and I especially like the ones I wrote for shayheyred and malnpudl.
bethbethbeth: SGA, Wraith/John
"That is him," hissed a Wraith voice. "John Sheppard. Do you remember me?"
"Yeah," said John. "I saved your life. Then again, you saved mine, so I guess we're even."
"You think a mere human life equal to one of ours?"
"I wouldn't say equal, exactly." Which was true, although probably not the way the Wraith meant it. The Wraith stepped closer, looming above him, and John could smell his disturbing, alien breath. "You gonna kill me now?"
"As I said before, there is much about Wraith that you do not know," said the Wraith, just before he kissed him.
riverlight: SGA, team, the Atlanteans throwing a party
"So on Earth you dress like something that is frightening?" said Teyla.
"Yeah," said John. "Ghosts. Clowns. I guess here you'd dress up as a Wraith."
"Then why do you give them candy?"
"It's just the way things are done."
"Why would a Wraith want candy?" interjected Ronon.
Suddenly, behind them Rodney yelled "Trick or Treat!" He was wearing an odd costume, orange and yellow with a conical hat.
"Don't tell me. A ZPM?" John gave him some candy, and Rodney happily went off to bother someone else.
"I get it," said Ronon. "Too bad that doesn't work on Wraith."
oxoniensis: due South, Dief, beef jerky
So the Mountie and the dog walk in. I know, no dogs in the store, but I know them. He's talking to his dog, something about pelicans, which makes no sense, and then the dog puts his paws against the counter and grabs a box of Slim Jims in his teeth and trots over to the Mountie.
"I fail to see…oh," he says in a different voice, looking at the label. "Very high in fat and protein. I suppose you're right." And he buys it.
Next day, the dog comes into the store alone. With a twenty in his mouth.
china_shop: due South, Ray/Ray, roadworks
"Slow down," said Ray. "You're going to wreck the suspension."
"I know how to drive, Vecchio."
"Then slow down, already." The car was bouncing heavily over the uneven dirt where the asphalt had been torn up, grinding noises coming from somewhere in the undercarriage. "You want we should break down and spend the night out here?"
"Would that be so bad?" said Kowalski, his voice suddenly husky.
Ray swallowed. "You slow down, we make it to your place in one piece."
"Don't know if I can wait that long."
Ray slid his hand across Kowalski's thigh. "Then pull over, now."
malnpudl: Slings & Arrows, something with the Oliver-Geoffrey-Ellen dynamic
"So, Oliver." Furtively, Ellen looked around the empty theatre, just in case anyone would overhear and think she had gone crazy. "If you're really around. Um. Are you?"
No answer, but she didn't really expect one.
"I just wanted to say, well. Geoffrey's doing a good job. He's doing fine. If you could see the show I think you'd approve. Okay?"
No answer.
"Anyway. That's all."
"What's all?" said Geoffrey, behind her, and she whirled.
"What? Nothing! I didn't hear you come in," she said nervously. He was looking over her shoulder. "What are you looking at?"
"Nothing," said Geoffrey.
primroseburrows: Slings & Arrows, Geoffrey/Ellen, rain
She'd searched the house twice before looking out the window; there he was, pacing, his hair plastered to his face and his skin shining wetly under the streetlight. Oh, God, she said to herself, not again, and she opened the door and stepped outside, into the storm.
"Geoffrey!"
He looked blankly at her. "Who are you?"
"Come back inside," she urged him, and soon they were dripping in the foyer.
He smoothed back her wet hair. "Poor drowned Ophelia," he said, kissing the top of head.
"I love you," she whispered, knowing the tears didn't show on her wet face.
verstehen: Heroes, Peter and Claire
Peter shrugged. "He said, 'Save the cheerleader, save the world.' That's all I know."
"And I'm the cheerleader."
"I guess," he said. But he looked skeptical.
"What, I don't look special?" Angrily she grabbed a knife off the kitchen counter and slashed her forearm with it. "You have no idea," she said, as the skin knit itself together under their combined gaze.
He looked in her eyes. "Maybe I do," he said, gently taking the knife from her hand. He winced as he cut his own arm, then held it up so she could see it heal. "Maybe I do."
shayheyred: Heroes, Hiro, the samurai sword
It was wrong to use his powers for personal gain. Heroes were above that. They saved children from speeding trucks, saved big cities from nuclear destruction.
But it was wrong that this American museum held such a sacred treasure of his homeland. The sword was not meant to be displayed in a glass case; it was meant to be used. True, Hiro was a salaryman, not a samurai. But he was a hero. And the picture Mendez had drawn showed him with this very sword.
The guard breathed in; the sword was there.
He breathed out, and it was gone.
gaycrow: HP, Snape/Harry, black cat
Snape sniffed audibly when Harry swerved off the path. "Surely you are not frightened of a mere cat?"
Harry scuffed his feet in the dirt. "Just instinct. Aunt Marge was always going on about not letting black cats cross your path. Sorry."
"Stupid Muggle superstition! There's nothing remotely dangerous in --"
Suddenly, the cat's fur rippled and changed, and its shape elongated, expanding, turning into…
"Minister Fudge!" gasped Harry.
"Why, hello, dear boy," said Fudge, beaming.
"Excuse us," gasped Snape, pulling Harry off the path and into the trees.
"See?" said Harry.
"Your Aunt Marge is a wise woman," said Snape.
accioslash: HP, Snape/Black, flaming bag of poo
As soon as James opened the common room door, the smell of burning feces wafted in from the corridor.
Behind him, Remus wrinkled his nose. "What is that horrid stench?"
James extinguished the flames with his wand, then bent to see the writing on the brown paper sack. "Sirius! You have an admirer!"
"Don't tell me. Snivellus?"
"Who else?"
"Better than last week's puddle of vomit," muttered Remus.
"Maybe so," said Sirius. But he preferred the vomit, which meant 'meet me in the greenhouse.' Flaming poo meant 'by the lake' - they'd have to watch out for the squid tonight.
scriggle: Wilby Wonderful, Emily and Duck, breakfast at Iggy's
Emily seemed to be hovering over his table, giving him coffee refills before he asked, grabbing the salt and pepper from another booth when she saw him looking around. Even when she'd retreated to behind the counter, he felt her eyes on him.
Finally he reached out and touched her wrist as she poured yet more coffee into his cup. "You okay?"
"Yeah," she said, biting her lip. "Um. Dan okay?"
"He'll live."
"But is he okay?" she persisted.
He looked up, saw the unspoken question in her eyes. "Yeah," he said. He gave her a reassuring smile. "He's okay."
pearl_o: HCL, Joe/Billy, teenagers
"Okay, children, break it up, time to go home," said Joe, unceremoniously throwing the door open.
"You fucker," said Billy. The girl - Jeanie, Gina, something like that - had her shirt off, and her hands were rubbing his dick through his jeans. He groaned when she moved them away.
Joe handed the girl her shirt. "Time to go," he repeated. When the door had closed behind her, he slid close. "Aw, she left you hanging," he said, running his hand across the bulge behind Billy's zipper. "She's too young for you."
"You're just jealous."
"Maybe," said Joe, pulling the zipper down.
omphale23: HCL, Billy/Mary the Fan
Afterwards, Mary always felt a little sad and hollow. She told herself she was being silly, that she was special, but she couldn't help wondering whether there was another woman in the next city that thought the same thing. Probably there was.
Billy must have seen something in her face, because his arm tightened around her naked waist, pulled her in close against his body. "You're my girl," he whispered, nuzzling into the space between her neck and shoulder, and she sighed and snuggled back against him.
"Yeah," she murmured into the air. It was true, if only for tonight.
riadsala: Master and Commander, Stephen and Jack, wine and toasted cheese
The wind had been contrary since the Canaries, and the ship's supplies had been sadly depleted. Even the once-plentiful fish scorned their hooks, and day after day the men pulled in nothing but seaweed.
Killick served them a meager supper from their pitiful stores: hard, weevil-ridden biscuit, toasted cheese, and the last of the claret, grumbling all the while, and when he'd left the room, Jack tilted his glass toward Stephen. "To better times."
"I'd sooner eat ship's biscuit with you than roast beef with the King," Stephen replied as he drank.
"Traitor," said Jack, but his eyes were twinkling.
trobadora: The Administration, Toreth, habits and rituals
It wasn't a superstition. Superstitions were for stupid people, and Toreth wasn't stupid. It was merely a game. Sometimes he won and sometimes he lost.
Naturally, he preferred winning.
The game went like this. When he went out for a fuck, he counted people wearing hats. An even number, or zero, predicted success. Odd, and he didn't bother.
After meeting Warrick became a regular event, Toreth tried to stop noticing hats. But it was reflex, automatic. He counted, and if it came out odd, he'd go round the block until the numbers came out even.
But it wasn't a superstition.