Writer in a Drawer, weeks Five and Six
So I won Week Four, which was thrilling. And, as real life proceeded to kick my arse around and up and down, it became a bright spot in what is turning out to be a very, very, very bad month. It's kind of astonishing how these small things can help so much.
Week Five's theme was "Insult to Injury," with the bonus element of a television show. I don't know much about television in the UK (except for Dr. Who and Torchwood, but that's far too meta for me), so I went with "The Bill," because I at least know of a catchphrase for it. That led me to writing a PC Cooper story. I liked it when I was writing it, and I still do. I think it's solid. Also, for once, it fit the word count pretty easily.
Title: Day One
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Gwen rubbed absently at her arm; she'd have some pretty bruises, and not just there, either. God, what a mess. Nothing like what she'd expected.
"You all right?" Andy leaned against the wall next to her. His split lip had stopped bleeding, but she reckoned he'd have a spectacular black eye in the morning. That bloke in the Cardiff Blues colours had gotten him pretty well. "Bit of a rough do in there."
Understatement of the century, that. But he wasn't whinging, so Gwen knew she couldn't either. "It's a bit different from The Bill, isn't it?" she said. "Emma Keane never got a pint of bitter poured over her head. At least not in any episodes I've seen."
Andy laughed, and Gwen felt a bit better for hearing it. "Next time, we'll rush in shouting 'You're nicked!' Maybe they'll put up less of a fight, then."
"Couldn't hurt to try." Gwen ran fingers through her damp, sticky hair. God, she smelled like a brewery. "Rhys is never going to believe this," she muttered. "He'll think I went out on the lash or something."
"Rhys," Andy repeated, and he sounded a bit tense just then. "Who's that, then, your fella?"
"That's right," Gwen said, trying not to sound as defensive as she felt. "Have you got someone?"
Andy shrugged. "Nah." He stared up at the sky for a few moments. It was starting to rain, icy drops soaking through Gwen's jacket, freezing her where she stood. "Right. Let's get back to the station, then?"
He didn't wait for Gwen to agree before he was striding off into the darkness; feeling vaguely insulted, Gwen hurried after him.
Week Six... Yeah, kind of the less said, the better on this one. The prompt was "Busted;" the added element, a craft (knitting, etc.) I started off with a brilliant idea, as I always do, that proved to need far more space than I had. So I scrapped it, and started casting about for something else. Then my real life went to hell. All in all, I'm impressed that I wrote anything at all. This was a piece that I was hoping would let me hide in the tall grass. The grass was not as tall as I thought. I just barely survived. But I did survive, so there is that.
At least I got to write knitting Ianto. I do like knitting Ianto.
Title: The Beginning (of a Beautiful Friendship)
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Tosh stopped halfway through the garage, hearing noises from the SUV, a sort of faint squeaking accompanied by rhythmic grunts. It sounded like... And then she heard Suzie's voice, ragged but still fierce, taunting him. "Come on, Owen... Is that really your best? And I thought..." Then Suzie moaned, and Tosh turned and fled, not caring if they heard her heels clicking against the cement flooring.
The tears started halfway down the corridor, blinding her as she stumbled along. She wasn't sure why she was crying, why she felt so humiliated, why she hadn't seen... Stupid, stupid, stupid... She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and kept running, up stairs and around corners and through doors, still hearing their voices mingled, that moan.
She burst into the kitchenette without looking where she was going, and tripped over a pair of long legs, spilling forward onto the ground as large hands clutched at her, trying to catch her. "Miss Sato! Are you... Here, let me..." Then Ianto Jones' hands were closing around her arms, and she looked up. His face was worried, and she realized, too late, that she'd let him catch her crying. "Toshiko? What happened? Is everything all right?"
"No," she said, and her voice was perilously unsteady. She tried to pick herself up, but one of her shoes had lost a heel, and she stumbled back into Ianto's chest. "I'm... It's all right, really. I just... I don't want to interrupt your --"
"Knitting?"
She blinked at him and he gestured back at the sofa. There was a half-finished scarf laying there, stitches starting to slip off one of the needles. "Bad habit of mine, I'm afraid. Anyway. I was just about to make a pot of tea, if you'd like a cup?"
Suzie and Owen would be coming back up any second, and she couldn't look at them, couldn't hear their voices and know... "Thanks, but... I think I just need some fresh air."
"Excellent. There's a little place, just around the corner. We'll go there." She opened her mouth to protest, and Ianto raised one eyebrow, just a little, but just enough. Then he held out his arm, and she took it, kicking off her shoes as they walked out of the room.
She wasn't sure why she felt better, but she did, and that was enough.
So I lived to write another day. And then I got the prompt that made me happiest of all. Details to follow.
Week Five's theme was "Insult to Injury," with the bonus element of a television show. I don't know much about television in the UK (except for Dr. Who and Torchwood, but that's far too meta for me), so I went with "The Bill," because I at least know of a catchphrase for it. That led me to writing a PC Cooper story. I liked it when I was writing it, and I still do. I think it's solid. Also, for once, it fit the word count pretty easily.
Title: Day One
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Gwen rubbed absently at her arm; she'd have some pretty bruises, and not just there, either. God, what a mess. Nothing like what she'd expected.
"You all right?" Andy leaned against the wall next to her. His split lip had stopped bleeding, but she reckoned he'd have a spectacular black eye in the morning. That bloke in the Cardiff Blues colours had gotten him pretty well. "Bit of a rough do in there."
Understatement of the century, that. But he wasn't whinging, so Gwen knew she couldn't either. "It's a bit different from The Bill, isn't it?" she said. "Emma Keane never got a pint of bitter poured over her head. At least not in any episodes I've seen."
Andy laughed, and Gwen felt a bit better for hearing it. "Next time, we'll rush in shouting 'You're nicked!' Maybe they'll put up less of a fight, then."
"Couldn't hurt to try." Gwen ran fingers through her damp, sticky hair. God, she smelled like a brewery. "Rhys is never going to believe this," she muttered. "He'll think I went out on the lash or something."
"Rhys," Andy repeated, and he sounded a bit tense just then. "Who's that, then, your fella?"
"That's right," Gwen said, trying not to sound as defensive as she felt. "Have you got someone?"
Andy shrugged. "Nah." He stared up at the sky for a few moments. It was starting to rain, icy drops soaking through Gwen's jacket, freezing her where she stood. "Right. Let's get back to the station, then?"
He didn't wait for Gwen to agree before he was striding off into the darkness; feeling vaguely insulted, Gwen hurried after him.
Week Six... Yeah, kind of the less said, the better on this one. The prompt was "Busted;" the added element, a craft (knitting, etc.) I started off with a brilliant idea, as I always do, that proved to need far more space than I had. So I scrapped it, and started casting about for something else. Then my real life went to hell. All in all, I'm impressed that I wrote anything at all. This was a piece that I was hoping would let me hide in the tall grass. The grass was not as tall as I thought. I just barely survived. But I did survive, so there is that.
At least I got to write knitting Ianto. I do like knitting Ianto.
Title: The Beginning (of a Beautiful Friendship)
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Tosh stopped halfway through the garage, hearing noises from the SUV, a sort of faint squeaking accompanied by rhythmic grunts. It sounded like... And then she heard Suzie's voice, ragged but still fierce, taunting him. "Come on, Owen... Is that really your best? And I thought..." Then Suzie moaned, and Tosh turned and fled, not caring if they heard her heels clicking against the cement flooring.
The tears started halfway down the corridor, blinding her as she stumbled along. She wasn't sure why she was crying, why she felt so humiliated, why she hadn't seen... Stupid, stupid, stupid... She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and kept running, up stairs and around corners and through doors, still hearing their voices mingled, that moan.
She burst into the kitchenette without looking where she was going, and tripped over a pair of long legs, spilling forward onto the ground as large hands clutched at her, trying to catch her. "Miss Sato! Are you... Here, let me..." Then Ianto Jones' hands were closing around her arms, and she looked up. His face was worried, and she realized, too late, that she'd let him catch her crying. "Toshiko? What happened? Is everything all right?"
"No," she said, and her voice was perilously unsteady. She tried to pick herself up, but one of her shoes had lost a heel, and she stumbled back into Ianto's chest. "I'm... It's all right, really. I just... I don't want to interrupt your --"
"Knitting?"
She blinked at him and he gestured back at the sofa. There was a half-finished scarf laying there, stitches starting to slip off one of the needles. "Bad habit of mine, I'm afraid. Anyway. I was just about to make a pot of tea, if you'd like a cup?"
Suzie and Owen would be coming back up any second, and she couldn't look at them, couldn't hear their voices and know... "Thanks, but... I think I just need some fresh air."
"Excellent. There's a little place, just around the corner. We'll go there." She opened her mouth to protest, and Ianto raised one eyebrow, just a little, but just enough. Then he held out his arm, and she took it, kicking off her shoes as they walked out of the room.
She wasn't sure why she felt better, but she did, and that was enough.
So I lived to write another day. And then I got the prompt that made me happiest of all. Details to follow.