hey, look! ficlets!
So I'm participating in pocky_slash's community itsproductivity, the idea of which is to write a little something every day.
Which means crossposting for the win!
I was behind since I didn't get a chance to do anything yesterday, so today there are two ficlets for the price of one.
For July 1, Day One, Prompt One: Useless but beautiful.
Fandom: Friday Night Lights
Character: Tim
Rating: G
Tim isn't exactly proud of it. He hides it in different places, moving it every once in a while for reasons he doesn't think too hard about. Maybe he wants to remind himself that it's still there, or that it really did happen; maybe he's afraid it will get lost, disappear into the air as if it never existed.
Underneath his bed; tucked away in the back of the nightstand drawer; an empty shoe box in the closet. Those are the usual places in the bedroom. In the kitchen it's the freezer, the back of the utensil drawer, the box of cereal he doesn't like but never throws out. Sometimes he hides it outside, in the backyard. He'll suddenly find it at the bottom of the barbecue, amongst the coals, when he goes to grill the first burgers and dogs of the summer. There's a small hole in the dirt underneath the tree where he hid it last fall. Occasionally he'll put it in the truck -- the glove box, usually. Once it stayed in the one lonely cup holder, but that seemed too exposed, so Tim moved it pretty much right away.
Other players keep theirs out right in the open -- on a mantel, or mounted in some sort of fancy display box. Some even wear theirs still, on whatever finger it still fits. Tim knows Matt is usually carrying his in his pocket, but that's more because of Julie than anything else. It's Matt's thing, and it's a very Matt thing to do, so Tim doesn't mind, not like he minds when those half-grown men who still wear theirs shove their fists in his face. Jason's, won as a coach, sits in his sock drawer. If it's suspiciously shiny, Tim doesn't comment.
It's only his state championship ring. It's a ring, and it's not even a promise, like many rings are. Instead, it's a reminder, of things lost and found, given and taken, and while Tim wouldn't throw those things away in a million years, he doesn't want to be constantly reminded of them, either. It took him a long time to realize it's his life, not a piece of jewelry, that counts.
For July 2, Day Two, Prompt Two: Paying for something you don't really want
Fandom: Doctor Who (2005)
Rating: G
Spoilers for Season Three, up to and through The Sound of Drums.
The Doctor has always been rather vague about money. He has it, he doesn't have it, it's the right currency, it's the wrong currency. He gets by. For a man -- or Time Lord -- without any income, he does all right. The TARDIS provides for all of his needs, and even most of his wants. The sonic screwdriver takes care of the rest. It's not stealing, precisely; what he doesn't use he puts back. (Well, mostly. Well, usually.) Saving the world, the universe, the galaxy doesn't come with a salary or benefits (well, some benefits), but it does supply the Doctor with good will enough to scrape by.
So here they are, on the run, on Earth, and the Doctor's trying to buy them something to eat. He doesn't have much cash on him, and if he uses the sonic screwdriver on a bank machine the Master will surely pick up the signal. Jack might actually be more reliable in this situation, but he's back with Martha, and the Doctor's ego starts to moan when the Doctor even thinks about going back and asking Jack for help. Which means the Doctor has to pick something easily portable, for convenience, and cheap, for financial reasons.
Which is how he ends up with chips.
He hasn't had chips in a year, not since Rose. Even being in the shop brings on a storm of memories, and it takes the man behind the counter three tries before he gets the Doctor's attention. The smell of the chips, the splash of the oil, the grease of the newspaper; it all makes the Doctor's teeth ache, as if he can almost smell Rose instead, hear her laugh, see her mouth as she's eating. Still, he dutifully takes the chips and pays the man, letting him keep the change. There's not a lot of change, anyway, and Rose always did that, let people keep the change, a small kindness from someone who couldn't really afford it, but knew what it would mean to the person on the other side of the counter.
Jack and Martha eagerly dip into the package when he gets back. The Doctor finally eats a few chips himself, declaring them fairly rebelliously as not bad. They aren't, but they aren't quite the way Rose would have liked them either; they're still too soft on the outside. Rose liked them crispy on the outside, mushy on the inside. It was a high standard, and outside of her favorite shop in London, the TARDIS made them the best.
The TARDIS. Rose.
The Doctor sighs, and gets to work, letting Martha and Jack finish the chips.
Which means crossposting for the win!
I was behind since I didn't get a chance to do anything yesterday, so today there are two ficlets for the price of one.
For July 1, Day One, Prompt One: Useless but beautiful.
Fandom: Friday Night Lights
Character: Tim
Rating: G
Tim isn't exactly proud of it. He hides it in different places, moving it every once in a while for reasons he doesn't think too hard about. Maybe he wants to remind himself that it's still there, or that it really did happen; maybe he's afraid it will get lost, disappear into the air as if it never existed.
Underneath his bed; tucked away in the back of the nightstand drawer; an empty shoe box in the closet. Those are the usual places in the bedroom. In the kitchen it's the freezer, the back of the utensil drawer, the box of cereal he doesn't like but never throws out. Sometimes he hides it outside, in the backyard. He'll suddenly find it at the bottom of the barbecue, amongst the coals, when he goes to grill the first burgers and dogs of the summer. There's a small hole in the dirt underneath the tree where he hid it last fall. Occasionally he'll put it in the truck -- the glove box, usually. Once it stayed in the one lonely cup holder, but that seemed too exposed, so Tim moved it pretty much right away.
Other players keep theirs out right in the open -- on a mantel, or mounted in some sort of fancy display box. Some even wear theirs still, on whatever finger it still fits. Tim knows Matt is usually carrying his in his pocket, but that's more because of Julie than anything else. It's Matt's thing, and it's a very Matt thing to do, so Tim doesn't mind, not like he minds when those half-grown men who still wear theirs shove their fists in his face. Jason's, won as a coach, sits in his sock drawer. If it's suspiciously shiny, Tim doesn't comment.
It's only his state championship ring. It's a ring, and it's not even a promise, like many rings are. Instead, it's a reminder, of things lost and found, given and taken, and while Tim wouldn't throw those things away in a million years, he doesn't want to be constantly reminded of them, either. It took him a long time to realize it's his life, not a piece of jewelry, that counts.
For July 2, Day Two, Prompt Two: Paying for something you don't really want
Fandom: Doctor Who (2005)
Rating: G
Spoilers for Season Three, up to and through The Sound of Drums.
The Doctor has always been rather vague about money. He has it, he doesn't have it, it's the right currency, it's the wrong currency. He gets by. For a man -- or Time Lord -- without any income, he does all right. The TARDIS provides for all of his needs, and even most of his wants. The sonic screwdriver takes care of the rest. It's not stealing, precisely; what he doesn't use he puts back. (Well, mostly. Well, usually.) Saving the world, the universe, the galaxy doesn't come with a salary or benefits (well, some benefits), but it does supply the Doctor with good will enough to scrape by.
So here they are, on the run, on Earth, and the Doctor's trying to buy them something to eat. He doesn't have much cash on him, and if he uses the sonic screwdriver on a bank machine the Master will surely pick up the signal. Jack might actually be more reliable in this situation, but he's back with Martha, and the Doctor's ego starts to moan when the Doctor even thinks about going back and asking Jack for help. Which means the Doctor has to pick something easily portable, for convenience, and cheap, for financial reasons.
Which is how he ends up with chips.
He hasn't had chips in a year, not since Rose. Even being in the shop brings on a storm of memories, and it takes the man behind the counter three tries before he gets the Doctor's attention. The smell of the chips, the splash of the oil, the grease of the newspaper; it all makes the Doctor's teeth ache, as if he can almost smell Rose instead, hear her laugh, see her mouth as she's eating. Still, he dutifully takes the chips and pays the man, letting him keep the change. There's not a lot of change, anyway, and Rose always did that, let people keep the change, a small kindness from someone who couldn't really afford it, but knew what it would mean to the person on the other side of the counter.
Jack and Martha eagerly dip into the package when he gets back. The Doctor finally eats a few chips himself, declaring them fairly rebelliously as not bad. They aren't, but they aren't quite the way Rose would have liked them either; they're still too soft on the outside. Rose liked them crispy on the outside, mushy on the inside. It was a high standard, and outside of her favorite shop in London, the TARDIS made them the best.
The TARDIS. Rose.
The Doctor sighs, and gets to work, letting Martha and Jack finish the chips.