March 7 Prompts
“I’m not showing these guys any more mercy!” McGee said emphatically, pacing in the room.
“You’re unconscious,’ Abby said, trying to stifle a giggle. It was Role Playing Night at NCIS. McGee and Abby were having the more normal of the two conversations currently going on.
“This is absurd. Why do I have to be a druid? I wanted to be an assassin!” Ziva pouted, glaring at Tony, who had pulled assassin.
“Ziva, you’ve been an assassin for more than a decade. You need to expand your horizons,” Tony said, rolling a twelve-sided die. He rolled a one. Ziva giggled. Outright giggled. It unnerved Tony.
“Shut up, fairy pants,” he said, marking down his hit points.
“You shut up.”
“No you shut up.”
“Your mom didn’t want me to shut up last night.”
“Um, your mom?” Tony was confused.
“Your mom’s face!” Ziva said triumphantly. She still hadn’t quite got the handle of how to escalate a ‘your mom’ fight.
“Abby, are you sure I’m unconscious?”
“Yes, McGee. I am the DM, and I have been keeping track. I hit you thirty seven times with my evil squirrels. You took thirty seven points of damage because your armor only protects for ranged attacks, and not squirrels to the face. Therefore, you are left with three points of health, so you are unconscious.”
Ziva and Tony had started a fist fight in the middle of the room. Tony appeared to be losing.
“I don’t know if D&D night is a good plan, Abby,” McGee said, sitting down next to her on a squishy couch in her lab. It made a farting noise, much like at least three other items in Abby’s lab.
“Why not? This is a blast,” she said, a wide grin on her face.
“Sure, for us. Ziva and Tony don’t really seem to get the idea though. They’re supposed to be someone other than themselves for this game. Not the same exact person.”
“I dunno, McGee, it seems to be going just fine.” She tilted her head to where the first round of fisticuffs between Tony and Ziva had degenerated to a apathetic slap fight. They were both smiling manically.
“I guess,” McGee said, skeptically. “Should we leave them alone? They seem to be making eyes at each other.”
It was true. The eyes they were making were vaguely disturbing though. Tony had put on his ‘I will charm you until you submit to me” eyes and Ziva was wearing her “I will kill you with my bare hands and enjoy it” eyes. Those, were, however, occasionally to be confused with her ‘I may or may not be madly in love with you’ eyes, so McGee was getting increasingly nervous.
“Let’s go get CafPows,” Abby suggested quietly in McGee’s ear. He nodded.
Abby and McGee had barely made it out of the room before Ziva and Tony were going at each other’s throats again. With lips. McGee was fairly certain he heard a ripping noise that was most likely someone’s shirt. He distinctly refused to think about it. Abby giggled.
D&D night was possibly a little too much of a success.
"What about everything?"
Dare: make a Queen reference (as in the band, Queen... not... the Queen of England... unless you really have a thing for the Queen of England, I guess...)
"... what do you think of buckles?"
Fandom: Dresden Files; Genre: Crack!fic
Murphy was standing at my door with her signature ‘I am NOT pleased’ face on.
“Hiya, Murph. What brings you to my door on such a… er, lovely day?” It was actually grey, three degrees out, snowing, and windy enough to knock an elephant over. That probably had a lot to do with Murphy’s ‘unhappy’ face.
“How do you feel about buckles, Dresden?” Murphy asked, moving toward me slowly. I wasn’t sure if she was propositioning me or not, and as much as I would have loved to be propositioned by Murphy, I was fairly confident that this was not the direction this conversation was about to go.
“Um, that depends,” I said, putting a sofa and Mouse in between me and Murphy. Mouse nosed her hand affectionately. “I mean, when it comes to Pilgrims and their strange buckle shoes and buckle hats, I kind of have to draw the line.”
“I meant the kinds on belts,” she said, stopped now, busy being licked to death by my enormous Godzilla dog.
“Right, right. Well, they’re great. I mean, they help hold your pants up…. and… well, that’s about all I have to say about buckles. Where are you going with this, Murph?”
She rolled her eyes slightly, but still looked serious. And a bit worried. “Harry, I need your help.”
She never used my first name. Ever. There was something going on here. Something decidedly not good. “Anything for you, Murph, you know that.”
She sighed. “Great, thanks. I really appreciate that Harry. Now, what I’m going to ask is very odd.”
“Murphy, this is pretty odd already, just spit it out already.”
“Someone’s enchanted my belt buckle and I can’t get it off, and I really need to pee.” she said in a flurry of words.
I tried really hard not to laugh. It almost worked. Murphy punched me particularly hard in the arm.
“Hey, hey! Easy on the wizard, or I won’t be able to get you out of those pants.”
Murphy glared at me.
“You know what I meant,” I said, kicking myself mentally for that one while simultaneously patting myself on the back. I, Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden would be getting Sergeant Karrin Murphy out of her pants. In my apartment.
I knelt down on the floor in front of Murphy and examined her belt buckle. It was, in fact, enchanted. I reached out and mumbled a few words, trying to force it open. I’m not great at finesse when it comes to magic, and I really didn’t want to start a fire or blow the crap out of Murphy’s belt buckle while it was so close to her person, so I didn’t put a lot of effort into the spell. It didn’t work.
“I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you, Murph,” I said, looking up at her.
“Just do what you have to do to get it off, you can apologize later. Just don’t completely maim me, okay?”
I nodded, setting my jaw, and allowed more power to flow into the spell. The enchantment on Murphy’s belt buckle wobbled and then fell away. The belt buckle then whipped out and caught me right in the forehead.
“Ow,” I said, rubbing my forehead gingerly.
Murphy knelt down beside me. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. You know me, the rough and tumble sort,” I said, sitting up uneasily. Mouse licked my face wholeheartedly.
“Thank you, Harry, you’re a life saver,” she said, kissing me on my injured forehead before running off to my bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
“You’re unconscious,’ Abby said, trying to stifle a giggle. It was Role Playing Night at NCIS. McGee and Abby were having the more normal of the two conversations currently going on.
“This is absurd. Why do I have to be a druid? I wanted to be an assassin!” Ziva pouted, glaring at Tony, who had pulled assassin.
“Ziva, you’ve been an assassin for more than a decade. You need to expand your horizons,” Tony said, rolling a twelve-sided die. He rolled a one. Ziva giggled. Outright giggled. It unnerved Tony.
“Shut up, fairy pants,” he said, marking down his hit points.
“You shut up.”
“No you shut up.”
“Your mom didn’t want me to shut up last night.”
“Um, your mom?” Tony was confused.
“Your mom’s face!” Ziva said triumphantly. She still hadn’t quite got the handle of how to escalate a ‘your mom’ fight.
“Abby, are you sure I’m unconscious?”
“Yes, McGee. I am the DM, and I have been keeping track. I hit you thirty seven times with my evil squirrels. You took thirty seven points of damage because your armor only protects for ranged attacks, and not squirrels to the face. Therefore, you are left with three points of health, so you are unconscious.”
Ziva and Tony had started a fist fight in the middle of the room. Tony appeared to be losing.
“I don’t know if D&D night is a good plan, Abby,” McGee said, sitting down next to her on a squishy couch in her lab. It made a farting noise, much like at least three other items in Abby’s lab.
“Why not? This is a blast,” she said, a wide grin on her face.
“Sure, for us. Ziva and Tony don’t really seem to get the idea though. They’re supposed to be someone other than themselves for this game. Not the same exact person.”
“I dunno, McGee, it seems to be going just fine.” She tilted her head to where the first round of fisticuffs between Tony and Ziva had degenerated to a apathetic slap fight. They were both smiling manically.
“I guess,” McGee said, skeptically. “Should we leave them alone? They seem to be making eyes at each other.”
It was true. The eyes they were making were vaguely disturbing though. Tony had put on his ‘I will charm you until you submit to me” eyes and Ziva was wearing her “I will kill you with my bare hands and enjoy it” eyes. Those, were, however, occasionally to be confused with her ‘I may or may not be madly in love with you’ eyes, so McGee was getting increasingly nervous.
“Let’s go get CafPows,” Abby suggested quietly in McGee’s ear. He nodded.
Abby and McGee had barely made it out of the room before Ziva and Tony were going at each other’s throats again. With lips. McGee was fairly certain he heard a ripping noise that was most likely someone’s shirt. He distinctly refused to think about it. Abby giggled.
D&D night was possibly a little too much of a success.
"What about everything?"
Dare: make a Queen reference (as in the band, Queen... not... the Queen of England... unless you really have a thing for the Queen of England, I guess...)
"... what do you think of buckles?"
Fandom: Dresden Files; Genre: Crack!fic
Murphy was standing at my door with her signature ‘I am NOT pleased’ face on.
“Hiya, Murph. What brings you to my door on such a… er, lovely day?” It was actually grey, three degrees out, snowing, and windy enough to knock an elephant over. That probably had a lot to do with Murphy’s ‘unhappy’ face.
“How do you feel about buckles, Dresden?” Murphy asked, moving toward me slowly. I wasn’t sure if she was propositioning me or not, and as much as I would have loved to be propositioned by Murphy, I was fairly confident that this was not the direction this conversation was about to go.
“Um, that depends,” I said, putting a sofa and Mouse in between me and Murphy. Mouse nosed her hand affectionately. “I mean, when it comes to Pilgrims and their strange buckle shoes and buckle hats, I kind of have to draw the line.”
“I meant the kinds on belts,” she said, stopped now, busy being licked to death by my enormous Godzilla dog.
“Right, right. Well, they’re great. I mean, they help hold your pants up…. and… well, that’s about all I have to say about buckles. Where are you going with this, Murph?”
She rolled her eyes slightly, but still looked serious. And a bit worried. “Harry, I need your help.”
She never used my first name. Ever. There was something going on here. Something decidedly not good. “Anything for you, Murph, you know that.”
She sighed. “Great, thanks. I really appreciate that Harry. Now, what I’m going to ask is very odd.”
“Murphy, this is pretty odd already, just spit it out already.”
“Someone’s enchanted my belt buckle and I can’t get it off, and I really need to pee.” she said in a flurry of words.
I tried really hard not to laugh. It almost worked. Murphy punched me particularly hard in the arm.
“Hey, hey! Easy on the wizard, or I won’t be able to get you out of those pants.”
Murphy glared at me.
“You know what I meant,” I said, kicking myself mentally for that one while simultaneously patting myself on the back. I, Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden would be getting Sergeant Karrin Murphy out of her pants. In my apartment.
I knelt down on the floor in front of Murphy and examined her belt buckle. It was, in fact, enchanted. I reached out and mumbled a few words, trying to force it open. I’m not great at finesse when it comes to magic, and I really didn’t want to start a fire or blow the crap out of Murphy’s belt buckle while it was so close to her person, so I didn’t put a lot of effort into the spell. It didn’t work.
“I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you, Murph,” I said, looking up at her.
“Just do what you have to do to get it off, you can apologize later. Just don’t completely maim me, okay?”
I nodded, setting my jaw, and allowed more power to flow into the spell. The enchantment on Murphy’s belt buckle wobbled and then fell away. The belt buckle then whipped out and caught me right in the forehead.
“Ow,” I said, rubbing my forehead gingerly.
Murphy knelt down beside me. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. You know me, the rough and tumble sort,” I said, sitting up uneasily. Mouse licked my face wholeheartedly.
“Thank you, Harry, you’re a life saver,” she said, kissing me on my injured forehead before running off to my bathroom, slamming the door behind her.