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camwynWrite me fic in the comments! It can be however long you like (well, up to 4300 words, since that's the limit for comments). It can be in any fandom you want, as long as it's a fandom I also write in , because -- this is the fun part -- I'll write you fic back, in the same fandom! It might be a remix or a sequel or something totally unrelated, but it'll be in the same fandom. C'mon, you know you want to entertain me. Dooooooo it!
Acceptable fandoms: Harry Potter, LOTR / Silmarillion, Hellblazer, Ghostbusters, Starship Troopers, Sergeant Preston of the Yukon, League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, Discworld, The Silver Corporal, American folklore, Li Kao / Number Ten Ox.
Acceptable fandoms: Harry Potter, LOTR / Silmarillion, Hellblazer, Ghostbusters, Starship Troopers, Sergeant Preston of the Yukon, League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, Discworld, The Silver Corporal, American folklore, Li Kao / Number Ten Ox.
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no subject
Date: 2004-06-05 04:15 am (UTC)Broomstick Troopers
"Shelob and Aragog are breeding... Mahog is not happy."
Cpl Weasley: "You don't understand, my whole family was killed in The Burrow."
Lt Black: "I have only one Rule: Everyone Drops, Nobody Quits."
Lt Weasley to Cptn Potter: "Oh I get it, Broomsticks do the flying and Ministry of Magic does the dying."
Cptn Potter:"These are the most lethal weapons ever devised: The Wand and the Flying Broomstick. There is no effective way to use conventional weapons to fight a wizard with a Wand and Flying Broomstick besides carpetbombing the entire area - much like burning down a house to kill a flea."
Cnl Granger: "Acromantula are tough adversaries, they can lose a leg and remain at 82% combat effectiveness."
no subject
Date: 2004-06-05 07:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-06-05 06:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-06-05 07:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-06-05 07:15 am (UTC)(I'm just being very lazy here. Whooot)
no subject
Date: 2004-06-05 07:39 am (UTC)Oh dear.
While your stuff looks fascinating, I'm afraid I have an admission to make...
I have seen a grand total of two episodes of "Buffy", ever, and two and a half episodes of "Angel", ever.
Please don't hit.
How about Firefly?
Date: 2004-06-05 09:26 pm (UTC)Re: How about Firefly?
Date: 2004-06-05 09:27 pm (UTC)Re: How about Firefly?
Date: 2004-06-06 12:05 pm (UTC)Re: How about Firefly?
Date: 2004-06-06 12:09 pm (UTC)Re: How about Firefly?
Date: 2004-06-06 04:08 pm (UTC)Self-Plagiarism
Date: 2004-06-05 09:39 am (UTC)When Justin came out to his family, his grandmother screamed, his mother fainted, his father muttered about boarding school, and his Uncle Warner pinched his arse while refilling his glass of rum.
All in all, it went better than he'd expected.
Re: Self-Plagiarism
Date: 2004-06-05 10:26 am (UTC)"What? Why not?"
"Hogwarts is a boarding school. So's Durmstrang. So's Beauxbatons, for that matter."
His father opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Blinking, he closed it. "You know," he said, "you're right..."
Justin nodded. Uncle Warner was grinning at him, humming yet another bloody pirate chanty to himself. Justin ignored him. "Besides, Dad," he said, "it's not as if there's no precedent, is there? I mean, look at Great-aunt Zenobia."
His mother, who had only just returned to consciousness, passed a hand over her face. "'Moving to the countryside with Junia to take up breeding Krups,' indeed," she moaned. "Justin? Promise me something, would you?"
"Of- of course, mum."
"You'll at least be discreet about it, won't you? I mean. . ."
He waited, the muscles of his back tensing.
"Find yourself a nice young fellow with a career ahead of him at Gringotts or something? If- if you've got to-" She waved a hand vaguely. "- then at least do it respectably?"
Justin smiled, a little weak at the knees with relief. "Of course, mum."
His grandmother merely shook her head and filched Uncle Warner's bottle of rum, swatting away his father's hand when he offered to bring her a glass for that.
no subject
Date: 2004-06-05 11:56 am (UTC)Heavy footfalls sounded and the bird glanced back. The man was coming, as expected. This was the only reasonable path here, unexpected events would be quite unlikely. He passed right underneath the Corporals tree, affording a nicely informative view. Vaguely scruffy hair that stunk of oils, mildly grimy but fairly standard clothes. The rifle over his shoulder looked to be in good condition though, would have to watch that one. The weight of his footfalls matched his scowl, it was wise of the bird to have left.
Once the man had passed the tree by a good five meters, it was time to act. Carefully, the Silver Corporal dropped out in the tree -- carefully in order to make enough noise to be noticed. The man whirled around, his gun already unslung and rising. The Corporal stood just long enough to ensure he was seen, then dove to the side and watched while circling around. The man was fixed on that direction, this was good, it would simplify things. No use wasting effort on this.
Standing out of the mans sight, the Corporal stood and let his weapon lightly uncoil. There was a branch laying next to him, on which he stepped lightly. Just a little cracking sound, the man was frightened enough now that this should work. It was good to be a myth. As the man spun, trying shakily to bring his rifle to bear, the Corporal lashed out. A simple move, just enough to send the gun flying as he moved toward the man. No need to harm this one, he's too scared to be any danger without his gun.
Another light spin while still moving straight toward him, switching sideways just as it hit. Again, no real damage, just wrapping around the man and knocking him on his face, close enough to reach him before he could get back up. The Silver Corporal bound the mans hands, guided him to his feet, then walked him along, picking up the rifle on the way. It had not been a hard task, but he was not one to call things too easy. Living is never too easy, and it's only too hard if you die.
no subject
Date: 2004-06-14 08:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-06-14 08:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-06-05 03:43 pm (UTC)...
The two students appeared in one of the larger alleys close to the edge of The Shades, unnoticed by anyone except a large gang relaxing in the shadows of Ham Alley.
"Iz them wizards? They got one a them robes on," said one, who exuded thuggery along with his considerable body odor.
Even in The Shades, it paid to be cautious around wizards, even young ones. Some of the more competitive-minded professors sent their students out behind the University on assignments where passing depended on survival rate. The gang paused to consider this.
"No hats," said the brains of the group, who could do basic addition if allowed to take his shoes off first. Subtraction was of course considerably easier, as long as he used someone else's fingers. In this case he counted two, and this added up to victims.
The leader nodded, and one of the larger and greasier of the gang moved forward.
Neville's eyes widened as the thug oozed out of the deeper shadows and into what passed for sunlight in The Shades. The thugs' hand darted forward, considerably faster than Neville could stop his shouting about fault in magical accidents, and buried its black-painted dagger in Harry's kidney. The Boy Who Lived went down like a dropped quaffle.
With a snarl the thug pulled out the now-bloody knife and looked for his second target, which was by now halfway up the street and accelerating. Purely by chance Neville was heading toward Treacle Mine Road and out of The Shades. Not worth the effort to follow. Harry's assailant shrugged and gave the body a kick.
"Hey," yelled Harry, "Stop that!" He wasn't exactly sure what had just happened, or why everything had suddenly gone all grey and semi-transparent. He was starting to get a Bad Idea, though. It worsened when he heard footsteps behind him that echoed oddly. Harry whirled around and saw a tall, black cloaked figure approaching. His mind grabbed onto the one familiar thing so far in this place and stabbed his wand at the skeletally thin figure.
"Expecto Patronum!" Harry yelled, as confidently as he could under the circumstances. Nothing happened. Harry shook the wand and urgently repeated the words. At this, silver sparks fizzled off the end of his wand and congealed into a stag, which was rather smaller than usual. It raced forward and smashed like a water balloon against the dark cloak of the specter, now two steps away.
Its hand rose up and closed on Harry's hand, pushing the wand away. Not just skeletally thin, Harry noted with rising panic, but skeletal. As if drawn by a magnet his eyes rose toward the black cowl. Two blue lights glowed out of the depths of the hood and seemed to drill into Harry's skull.
THAT WASN'T NECESSARY, said Death, I DO THIS AS A FAVOUR. The dread specter paused for a second, the blue glow breaking their lock with Harry's eyes and rising toward the top of his head, ER. YOU ARE A WIZARD, AREN'T YOU?
no subject
Date: 2004-06-05 04:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-06-05 04:36 pm (UTC)Because I really, really like Neville.
Date: 2004-06-05 07:42 pm (UTC)Neville nodded once, his eyes still on the three monks in front of him. His wand, trained squarely on the tallest of the three, was spitting silvery-red sparks every which way; they fell like a stream from one of Dr. Filibuster's finest sparklers. "That's good," he said. "How, er- how does he look?"
The monk stared at Neville for a second before picking up one of Harry's arms. Very deliberately, he let go; it hit the table with a wet thud.
"I've seen worse," said Neville.
"Boy, are you a rotten liar. He's a bloody piece of-"
"'Tis just a scratch, isn't it?" Neville's wand dipped in a gesture that, had he given it the slightest empowering thought, would've worked an intricately arcane energy field capable of destroying sixty percent of the Procrastinators in the place. It was even money whether the monks had let him corner them because they genuinely feared he'd do it, or because they wanted to see how he pulled it off.
"Er. . ." The monk hesitated, peering at the corpse a little more closely. Neville's grip on his wand tightened, the sparks becoming more silvery- and more frequent. As one of the cornered monks went 'ooo!' at the sight, the one who'd brought Harry in decided that discretion was the better part of temporal physics. "It just so happens that your friend here is only mostly dead. . ."
Re: Because I really, really like Neville.
Date: 2004-06-05 08:31 pm (UTC)"It just so happens that your friend here is only mostly dead. . ."
Ten points to Gryffindor!
I figured Neville would be one of the very, very few of that lot that would go and try to find help in the face of many armed bandits*...though it's a toss-up as to what kind of help he'd find.
cheating - I'll use something pre-written
Date: 2004-06-05 04:25 pm (UTC)-----------------------------
What got him later, about the accident, was how normal it was. People fall down the stairs at home every day, and some don't live to tell about it later. It could have happened the day before, at the firehall.
The other thing that got him, later, was his reaction. Ray rounded the corner of the stairwell a split second ahead of him, the Four following close behind, it's spectral scimitar teeth bared, wailing like a fire engine. Ray's arms went up, and Winston could hear the sickening slide-thud of body and nuclear accelerator on stairs for only a moment before he rounded the same corner and saw Ray coming to a stop at the bottom.
"Dear Lord!" was propelled from Winston's lips as though by a kick to his gut. "Ray!"
Within moments, as Winston reached him, Ray was moving again. "I'm fine!" he responded, cheerily.
"You're sure? Don't move!"
Ray was already wrenching himself back upright, but then he paused, his head cocked, listening. "Can you hold it off a minute? Something's wrong with this pack." He began the squirm out of the straps the held the ion accelerator to his back.
Stalling a Seven with a single pack - not Winston's idea of a good time. Winston spun and took aim at the entity, which was just rounding the corner above them. A short burst at full power slowed it, and another drove it back a bit. He didn't want to hold it, just hurt it and scare it. The thing shook what might be called it's head (or the part with the teeth in it, at any rate) and started toward them again, to take another short blast. It fell back again.
Ray already had his small toolkit out of the cargo pocket of his coveralls and was selecting a screwdriver.
Winston cranked his pack up to full power and gave the ghost one more blast, short and sharp. It screached and, deciding it's time would be better spent on less annoying prey, disappeared through the ceiling.
Ray had removed a panel from his pack. Now that the screaming Seven was gone even Winston could make out the unnatural whine coming from it. Ray fished a small bottle of WD40 from another pocket and injected something inside the open panel, stuck the screwdiver in, and the whine stopped. His hands move quickly and surely - he joggled the screwdriver within for a moment longer, then was quickly replacing the panel and screws and stowing the toolkit away. "Okay, all set!" Twisting to put the straps back on his shoulders, a grimace crossed his face for the barest moment.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Winston asked, offering him a hand up, which Ray took after a moment's hesitation, quickly meeting Winston's eyes and looking away.
"Sure, no problem. I might be a little stiff tomorrow, but I'm barely feeling a thing right now."
"It's all that adrenaline," Winston reminded him.
Let's see how this works...
Date: 2004-06-05 10:04 pm (UTC)"What was supposed to be a Four turned out to be a Seven, and it chased Ray here down a flight of stairs." Winston nodded to the wincing scientist beside him, who was too busy testing his ribs with the fingertips of his free hand to say anything.
"Ooo." Sucking a breath between his teeth, Peter put down the cards and hopped to his feet. "Ray, how many times have I told you? No matter how the other kids play with him-"
"Mister Gravity isn't my friend. I know, I know." Ray shook his head, giving a wry half-smile. "I guess I just got caught up in the chase, that's all."
"Ya-huh." He gave Ray's coverall a quick once-over- all right, there was slime, but he didn't see any blood. Egon had made it halfway home from Randall's Island without noticing that his suit had gone red below the knee once; he didn't trust anyone to assess their own condition properly any more. "How about you, Winston? You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." Winston shook his head. "Someone had to get this guy home okay, you know?"
The words were rough, but there was something about their tone that caught Peter's attention. "I'll bet," he said. Casually, he prodded Ray in the ribs.
"Ow! Pete, that hurt!"
"You could've been faking," Peter answered- but his attention was on Winston's response, not Ray's. That was one serious flash of disapproval he'd gotten. Stronger than usual, anyway. Somehow, that didn't surprise him. "Sorry. Sorry. Won't do it again."
Ray just groaned; Winston shook his head. "Come on, Ray," he said. "Let's go see what Egon's got in the medicine cabinet. They're just going to tape you up and give you painkillers at the emergency room anyway."
Peter settled back into his chair as they left. He'd tell Egon as soon as he saw the man.
Re: Let's see how this works...
Date: 2004-06-06 05:21 am (UTC)I also like how you recovered from me f***ing up and forgetting to change 'Four' to 'Seven' in all instances.;)
no subject
Date: 2004-06-05 09:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-06-05 09:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-06-05 11:19 pm (UTC)Mary leaned over the bed to brush a straggle of fair hair away from Dorothy's flushed cheek, and then sat back in the rocking chair. The girl stirred, tossed her head and whimpered faintly, but did not wake.
At the foot of the bed, Toto raised his head from his paws and gave a tired tail-wag. "She's dreaming," he said quietly.
"People do that." Mary unpinned her hair and began to brush it with short, sharp strokes.
The small dog watched his mistress for a moment. "What do you suppose she's dreaming about?"
Sss, sss went the hairbrush. Mary's voice was only slightly louder than the sound. "Nothing good, I'll be bound."
"She wanted to go see Glinda."
"I know." Sss.
"She asked about Glinda, and about Ozma, and General Jinjur. And the Scarecrow and the Tin Man. And the Nome King." Toto's voice was very quiet, and very quietly worried. "And before she went to sleep, she was saying something about Ugu the Shoemaker."
"Was she." Mary put down the hairbrush with a tiny precise click, stood up from the rocking chair, and picked up her tentlike nightgown from her own bed.
Toto whined, just a little bit. "And Mary ... she hasn't asked anyone yet about Uncle Henry and Aunt Em."
Mary stopped moving, just for a moment. "No," she said then. "No, she hasn't."
"Or about Betsy Bobbin or Trot or any of the other little ones ... I don't think she's even thought about them." The little dog fidgeted on the bed, and whined again.
"Hush," Mary said, sharp but still very quiet. "You'll wake her."
no subject
Date: 2004-06-06 10:10 pm (UTC)Well- one of the two things in all the world, anyway. Prince had just slipped back into the room, silent as a shadow, and had laid his muzzle on the Sergeant's knee. "What is it, boy?"
The big dog sighed heavily. "I heard Toto," he said without preamble. "He worries about the girl."
"I think we all do, Prince. Toto especially, but he's not the only one." He rested one hand on Prince's head, scratching him lightly behind the ears. "What's he worried about?"
The husky's tail swished over the floor. "Her family," he said. "Her pack. She looked for others, but not for them."
"I see."
Prince canted his head a little, making such eye contact as could be made without shaking the Sergeant's hand loose. "You are thinking something," he said, his tail stilling. "What?"
Preston sighed. "I know what she's feeling, Prince. Or something very close to it, anyway."
The husky made a small, curious whine in the back of his throat. Preston smiled. "It was before your time, old fellow. I wasn't much older than Dorothy is now. I'd just lost my father, you see."
"But the girl has not lost her pack," said Prince, puzzled. "Has she?"
"Well, I don't know- but she thinks she has. And she's afraid of that." He ruffled the dog's fur lightly, just above the collar. "And she doesn't want to think about them, because of what might've happened."
There was silence for a while before Prince said, slowly, "I do not understand."
"She's afraid, Prince," said Preston quietly. "I don't know how it is with you, but for us humans, it's easier to act than it is to think. If she's acting- well, it's very hard to be afraid when you've got something big to do." He glanced out the window again. "It's not good for her, but that's how humans are, sometimes."
Prince heaved a great sigh. He twisted his head a little under the Sergeant's touch, turning to lick briefly at the scar his grandfather had left on the man's right hand years before. "When we are afraid," he said, "we run. Or we bite things. She is running, then?"
"Something like that, yes."
"Someone should stop her," Prince decided. "Before she gets too far."
"Someone will, Prince. I promise."
"Good," said the dog. With a final nuzzle of head against hand he curled up at the foot of the bed and went to sleep.
Preston stayed awake, and watched the stars go by.