Fandom like stuff
Jun. 30th, 2007 07:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deenseOkay, complete fandom stuff, not fandom-like at all.
Part of an in game meme had us writing backstory drabbles for each other. I'm posting what I wrote here, mostly for my own record.
For Buffy
She could remember it. The bike Dawn got for her sixth birthday. Their father putting it together. The way Dawnie had shrieked as he'd led her down the sidewalks, Buffy jumping and shouting encouragement. Their mother leaning against the doorframe, smiling and taking photos.
She'd mentioned it to Dawn once. Her face had lit up, remembering as well, laughing at the way they'd acted that day. Recounting the skinned knees, and how Buffy hadn't wanted Dawn to get all the attention. They'd practically fought about it all these years later.
Only that was it, wasn't it? It wasn't all these years later. Dawnie, her precious Dawn, only had been on this earth for two. Their mother dead, their father abandoned them long ago. None of it was real, none of it.
Some days it was almost too much for anyone to handle. Even a slayer.
For Mark (RENT)
Mark remembered the first time he used a video camera. He was ten and it belonged to the Rabbi. He'd seen other people filming the days festivities (Rosh Hoshannah at the Scarsdale Jewish Community centre, too many apples and too much honey, too many old women wishing him a happy new year and pinching his cheeks.) and he'd been fascinated. It had looked so sleek and professional, the large black machine that had to be plugged into the wall socket. Years later he'd know that it was neither of those things, but to a child it seemed amazing.
He'd watched in awe for so long that Mr Baum had noticed, caling him over with a grin. "You want a try?" He'd asked, ruffling Mark's hair like Mark were six, not ten. He didn't complain though, nodding eagerly, his hands already up to grab it.
"Woah there, Se brent nit!" He handed Mark the camera, nattering off instructions, but Mark wasn't listening. He was already nalancing the camera on his shoulder, looking through the viewer and at the scene as it lay out before him.
Everything else faded into the background, his breath catching. This... This was amazing. It was like nothing else, being able to see, and capture these moments.
Mark had fallen in love.
For Roger (RENT)
If Mark had been filming this, he likely would have titled it 'longest day ever' or some stupid thing like that. But he wasn't. Roger still hadn't accepted it. That April had AIDS. That likely, he had AIDS because of it. It just... It was just too much.
He'd gone out, got a hit, gotten a bottle of wine. It was a shit fucking night, and if they ever just needed to feel good it was tonight.
When she didn't answer the door he didn't think anything of it. He often let himself in. When she didn't answer him calling out her name he started to worry. That's when he heard the sound of water running.
"April?" He called out again as he made his way through the apartment, to the bathroom.
What he saw when he opened the door sent him to his knees. "No, no, no..." Blood everywhere, April in the tub, overflowing, her head back, eyes open but lifeless. "NO!" he screamed as he cradled her body to him, the hit, the wine, the disease, her body, cold and wet against his, everything forgotten. "NO, no, no, no, no APRIL," He called her name out through his tears, knowing what had driven her to this point. Knowing that someday, likely too soon who would be there too. He cried, the only tears he would cry for some time, not that he knew that, her body pulled to his, the water still running, unable to do anything.
Suddenly everything was far too real.
For Violet Baudelaire
The ribbon had frayed almost to nothing.
She knew what she should think. It was just a ribbon, wasn't it? She could get a new one. This was irrational Klaus would tell her, it didn't mean anything. The ribbon was just a symbol, an object.
But it was the ribbon her father had given her. Violet remembered his face that day as he'd come to her, her brow furrowed and hair in her eyes. He'd given her the ribbon, and suddenly... Suddenly things really were clearer. The smile he had given her as they both bent over the piece of machinery she was trying to fix, and they'd fixed it, together. That was just
Only now the ribbon was almost gone. Violet tied it into her hair for what she knew would be the last time. There was a new length of ribbon sitting on her bed. She just wasn't ready to give this piece up quite yet.
For O-Ren Ishii
Kiddo insisted on these places. Fast food restaurants. O-Ren could never understand why anyone would want to put garbage like that into their body, but apparently it had to do with the fact that she knew it was bad for her. A guilty pleasure. O-Ren could sympathise with that.
It did not make it any easier though, as Kiddo dropped the paper bag in her lapa as they pulled out of the drive thru (the spelling alone was awful, another thing she refused to understand.) Grease was already building on the bag as O-Ren lifted it gingerly, off her lap. The look she gave Kiddo was disdainful. Others had frozen when faced with that look. Kiddo just smiled and shook her head. It infuriated her, but it also made O-Ren want to kiss her. To kiss her or to slap her. She never could decide, and so often she wanted to do both. Not one or the other, but both.
Amazing how you could love someone who drove you to distraction like this.
For Elphaba Thropp
Elphaba could deal with quite a bit from Galinda. She always could. But this, this was too far.
The dress itself wouldn't have been too bad. It was black at least, she didn't mind black, and a simple enough cut.
It was just the way it was festooned with pink ribbons. As if one of Galinda's dresses had been too close to it in the wardrobe and it had caught some sort of disease.
"Please Elphie?" Galinda looked at her with her eyes wide. Elphaba recognised that look. It was the look everyone else melted for.
She practically snorted with laughter, "No."
"But I just want you to look pretty. Isn't it pretty?"
"Galinda, you may not have noticed recently, but I'm not what most people call pretty. Pink is your thing, not mine." The ribbons were disappearing quickly, being picked off one by one. She never should have given into Galinda on this, but the girl could be so persistent. It was like fighting with a storm sometimes, a cheerful, glittery, blonde storm, but still a force to be reckoned with.
Afterwards, with the dress on, she caught Galinda giving her a satisfied sort of glance, and wondered if maybe she hadn't reacted exactly how she was supposed to. If Galinda hadn't gotten what she'd wanted in the end by appearing to go too far.
Sighing, she gave in. For now. Next time she'd pay more attention.
For Ianto
Tosh remembered the first time she'd seen Ianto. It had been in the days after Canary Wharf, during the cleanup. They'd gotten there first, to take care of any sensitive matters before the army had come in. Ianto had been one of the few, one of the survivors of Torchwood One. Unlike the others, he hadn't broken down, or walked around in a daze, but had simply pitched in. Directing them to things they might need to know about, cleaning up behind them. It was like he was falling into a role that no one knew he'd be in officially soon enough.
She brought him coffee the second day. He'd taken one look at the tray of cups and taken them from her, shaking his head, returning ten minutes later with coffee from a different cafe, the one Tosh had walked past.
"I'm sorry, I couldn't let you poison anyone." He'd smiled then, slightly. She'd smiled back, not at all offended. Jack, Suzi and Owen all knew not to drink her coffee. That she couldn't even pick a decent cafe, it didn't surprise her at all.
For Spike
It wasn't like it was really her fault. Okay, so maybe she shouldn't have told Buffy that she'd seen Spike lurking around so much. But just because Buffy had been too preoccupied to notice, didn't mean that everyone else was blind too. Somewhat predicatably Buffy had freaked out on Spike, and now Spike was here at the Magic Box, staring at her like... Like she was some sort of puppy-kicker or something.
"What?" She said, only somewhat defensively.
"Why'd you have to open your big yap? What I do, and who I follow is none of your business princess, no matter what you think."
"Oh please," Anya looked at him derisively. "Just because you're like a lovesick teenager doesn't mean the rest of us have to put up with your moping and whining. I swear, if Buffy wasn't so distracted she'd've noticed you first. You're practically oozing patheticness."
He flew at her raising his hand to hit her when the chip kicked in, making him grab his head in pain.
"Yeah, I thought so." she sounded satisfied, "You know you used to be the sort of vampire a girl could respect, even after you started in with the do-gooding. I mean, nothing against it, I understand the being helpful, but really Spike, she's never going to fall for you at this rate."
He looked at her warily. After all, relationship advice from the ex-demon who didn't quite get things? "Like I bloody need your help."
"Actually, yes. You do." And he was going to get it, whether he wanted it or not.
For Tonks
Tonks was frustrated. Beyond frustrated. This just wasn't fair. It wasn't her fault that she'd broken all those vials in potions, and the room had gone up like it did. It could have happened to anyone. The fact that it turned everyone's hair green for a few hours, well that amused Tonks. Mostly because she immediately was able to turn her hair bright red. Okay, maybe that had been the straw that broke the gryphon's back. This detention though, seemed completely unjustified. Scrubbing the floors with a small bristle brush, she sighed to herself again. One small slip, and vials crashing to the floor...
Next time she'd make sure that there was something at least a bit more entertaining in them. Then maybe the trouble would be worth it.
For Jack, Harkness that is
There were so many things she'd found odd about Jack. The hand had always been the oddest. The way he'd stare it it when he didn't think anyone was looking. How sometimes she'd review bits of the security tape and he'd be sitting next to it, his hands on the case, the look on his face... It was a look she'd seen on hers too many times. One of hurt, and confusion. It wasn't JAck, not the Jack she knew. She just knew that the hand meant something to him, something he'd never explain to any of them, that she never even tried to bring up.
She just watched instead, seeing more than anyone ever thought she did.
For Claire Bennett
The cheerleading uniform. She couldn't believe that she'd been given it, that it was going to be her. But it was, and that was it. She, Claire Bennett, a cheerleader. Everything she'd worked towards for all those years, everything she'd wanted.
Or was it?
Her mom had been ecstatic, her dad, happy. Everyone had congratulated her.
Yet it still wasn't enough somehow. It wasn't everything she'd always hoped it would be. As she sat there in the changeroom, the sweater clutched tightly in her hands, she wondered why it was she thought it would fix everything. When it was obvious that a mere garment couldn't fix anything. Not how strange she was, not her worries, none of it.
But she'd hoped. And now she'd been let down. Again.
For Sam and Sybil Vimes
Dragons. Those damned dragons were everywhere. Vimes held up his favourite shirt, the one he wore all the time. The one that felt like a second skin. It had a burn hole straight through the centre. He couldn't be sure that Sybil hadn't encouraged one of the damned things to burn it up.
It was when he saw his boots that he knew it had to have ben her. He knew that he'd put those away. He loved those boots, could feel every cobble of Ankh-Morpork through the soles. It was hard work getting your boots to that stage.
He glared at Sybil as he walked into the kitchen, the charred remains of his boots and shirt in his hands. "Do you know anything about this?"
Sybil looked at him from where she was feeding young Samuel, smiling, "What are you going on about? You must have left them out."
He glared more. "Left them out?"
"Yes. Not put them away. I've told you over and over that if you leave things where the dragons can get to them, I can't be held responsible for their actions." She smiled again. Always a sign of guilt in Vimes' book.
But then again, he knew that some arguments could never be won, and turned, storming out of the kitchen.
"Oh and I've had new boots and a shirt laid out for you dear," she called out after him.
"Bloody women," he mumbled, but softly. Sybil's hearing was amazing.
"I heard that!"
He winced as he made his way to get dressed. He'd be lucky to get dinner tonight.
For Rodney MacKay and John Sheppard
"LIME! Do you see this? Do you know what this is? What this means?" Doctor McKay shouted at Teyla and Major Sheppard, a small plate with a square green block shoved under their noses.
Teyla could not believe that any one person could make such a fuss over what seemed to be a rather innocuous, if wobbly, dessert. In fact, she could not believe that one person could make such a fuss over anything before this. The past few days had made her think differently though.
"No Rodney, what does it mean?" Major Sheppard replied in what Teyla had already identified as his amused i'm trying to not hit you voice. He glanced at Teyla and rolled his eyes. Doctor McKay did not notice.
"It means they are trying to kill me," he spoke to them as if they were idiots. Leaning across the counter he shouted into the kitchen, "I'm onto you! I know what's going on here! Don't think I'll fall for it either!"
Major Sheppard placed one hand on Doctor McKay's shoulder, the other taking the plate and passing it to Teyla. "Just let go of the jello Rodney. Nobodies trying to kill you. Look, here's chocolate pudding, how about you try that instead."
"Probably chocolate lemon pudding," he mumbled, but grabbed three bowls anyway, grumbling to himself the whole way back to his table.
Once he was out of earshot Major Sheppard turned to her with a grin. "I told them to make lime jello." Grabbing a plate for himself, he went to join Doctor McKay.
Only three days on Atlantis, and already Teyla was wondering about the sanity of those here. It was not an auspicious beginning.
For Carson Beckett
Teyla had convinced Doctor Beckett to agree and try his hand at Bantos once, and only once. She was not sure how she managed it, but gave more credit to Rodney's derisiveness then to her own persuasive nature.
There always seemed to be an emergency though, some reason that he could not make it. He was so effusive in his apologies, and so relived looking if she were honest, that she never pushed him that much. In some way she enjoyed the panicked look he'd give her when she came into the clinic before the time they'd set up. Carson would have another reason why he couldn't make it that way, and Teyla would accept, the corners of her mouth pulling up in amusement.
That he never noticed she was amused, amused her more. Eventually she let it drop. But every once in a while on her way to practice she would drop into the clinic, sticks in her hand, just to see the momentary flash of panic in his eyes that he hid so badly.
For Bridget Jones
It was amazing the things you learned in jail. First that karaoke as an art form was far more appreciated by thai women who were incarcerated. Second, that jail was v.good for weight loss, Third, also reduced alcohol unit consumption. =She mentally ran through the list, one to twenty as she fixed her tights, hopping about her apartment on one foot, fag hanging from her mouth and drink on the edge of the basin.
"Bollocks" A ladder, just what she didn't need. She wanted to get out, to the bar, to see her friends, again. To relish her freedom, every moment of it. To have a good whinge about Mark oh so righteous Darcy. Pulling the ruined tights off she decided bare legs and boots was new look.
Should look into book contract. Writing memoirs v.profitable and glamourous.
Wow. I didn't realise I'd written quite so many...
Part of an in game meme had us writing backstory drabbles for each other. I'm posting what I wrote here, mostly for my own record.
For Buffy
She could remember it. The bike Dawn got for her sixth birthday. Their father putting it together. The way Dawnie had shrieked as he'd led her down the sidewalks, Buffy jumping and shouting encouragement. Their mother leaning against the doorframe, smiling and taking photos.
She'd mentioned it to Dawn once. Her face had lit up, remembering as well, laughing at the way they'd acted that day. Recounting the skinned knees, and how Buffy hadn't wanted Dawn to get all the attention. They'd practically fought about it all these years later.
Only that was it, wasn't it? It wasn't all these years later. Dawnie, her precious Dawn, only had been on this earth for two. Their mother dead, their father abandoned them long ago. None of it was real, none of it.
Some days it was almost too much for anyone to handle. Even a slayer.
For Mark (RENT)
Mark remembered the first time he used a video camera. He was ten and it belonged to the Rabbi. He'd seen other people filming the days festivities (Rosh Hoshannah at the Scarsdale Jewish Community centre, too many apples and too much honey, too many old women wishing him a happy new year and pinching his cheeks.) and he'd been fascinated. It had looked so sleek and professional, the large black machine that had to be plugged into the wall socket. Years later he'd know that it was neither of those things, but to a child it seemed amazing.
He'd watched in awe for so long that Mr Baum had noticed, caling him over with a grin. "You want a try?" He'd asked, ruffling Mark's hair like Mark were six, not ten. He didn't complain though, nodding eagerly, his hands already up to grab it.
"Woah there, Se brent nit!" He handed Mark the camera, nattering off instructions, but Mark wasn't listening. He was already nalancing the camera on his shoulder, looking through the viewer and at the scene as it lay out before him.
Everything else faded into the background, his breath catching. This... This was amazing. It was like nothing else, being able to see, and capture these moments.
Mark had fallen in love.
For Roger (RENT)
If Mark had been filming this, he likely would have titled it 'longest day ever' or some stupid thing like that. But he wasn't. Roger still hadn't accepted it. That April had AIDS. That likely, he had AIDS because of it. It just... It was just too much.
He'd gone out, got a hit, gotten a bottle of wine. It was a shit fucking night, and if they ever just needed to feel good it was tonight.
When she didn't answer the door he didn't think anything of it. He often let himself in. When she didn't answer him calling out her name he started to worry. That's when he heard the sound of water running.
"April?" He called out again as he made his way through the apartment, to the bathroom.
What he saw when he opened the door sent him to his knees. "No, no, no..." Blood everywhere, April in the tub, overflowing, her head back, eyes open but lifeless. "NO!" he screamed as he cradled her body to him, the hit, the wine, the disease, her body, cold and wet against his, everything forgotten. "NO, no, no, no, no APRIL," He called her name out through his tears, knowing what had driven her to this point. Knowing that someday, likely too soon who would be there too. He cried, the only tears he would cry for some time, not that he knew that, her body pulled to his, the water still running, unable to do anything.
Suddenly everything was far too real.
For Violet Baudelaire
The ribbon had frayed almost to nothing.
She knew what she should think. It was just a ribbon, wasn't it? She could get a new one. This was irrational Klaus would tell her, it didn't mean anything. The ribbon was just a symbol, an object.
But it was the ribbon her father had given her. Violet remembered his face that day as he'd come to her, her brow furrowed and hair in her eyes. He'd given her the ribbon, and suddenly... Suddenly things really were clearer. The smile he had given her as they both bent over the piece of machinery she was trying to fix, and they'd fixed it, together. That was just
Only now the ribbon was almost gone. Violet tied it into her hair for what she knew would be the last time. There was a new length of ribbon sitting on her bed. She just wasn't ready to give this piece up quite yet.
For O-Ren Ishii
Kiddo insisted on these places. Fast food restaurants. O-Ren could never understand why anyone would want to put garbage like that into their body, but apparently it had to do with the fact that she knew it was bad for her. A guilty pleasure. O-Ren could sympathise with that.
It did not make it any easier though, as Kiddo dropped the paper bag in her lapa as they pulled out of the drive thru (the spelling alone was awful, another thing she refused to understand.) Grease was already building on the bag as O-Ren lifted it gingerly, off her lap. The look she gave Kiddo was disdainful. Others had frozen when faced with that look. Kiddo just smiled and shook her head. It infuriated her, but it also made O-Ren want to kiss her. To kiss her or to slap her. She never could decide, and so often she wanted to do both. Not one or the other, but both.
Amazing how you could love someone who drove you to distraction like this.
For Elphaba Thropp
Elphaba could deal with quite a bit from Galinda. She always could. But this, this was too far.
The dress itself wouldn't have been too bad. It was black at least, she didn't mind black, and a simple enough cut.
It was just the way it was festooned with pink ribbons. As if one of Galinda's dresses had been too close to it in the wardrobe and it had caught some sort of disease.
"Please Elphie?" Galinda looked at her with her eyes wide. Elphaba recognised that look. It was the look everyone else melted for.
She practically snorted with laughter, "No."
"But I just want you to look pretty. Isn't it pretty?"
"Galinda, you may not have noticed recently, but I'm not what most people call pretty. Pink is your thing, not mine." The ribbons were disappearing quickly, being picked off one by one. She never should have given into Galinda on this, but the girl could be so persistent. It was like fighting with a storm sometimes, a cheerful, glittery, blonde storm, but still a force to be reckoned with.
Afterwards, with the dress on, she caught Galinda giving her a satisfied sort of glance, and wondered if maybe she hadn't reacted exactly how she was supposed to. If Galinda hadn't gotten what she'd wanted in the end by appearing to go too far.
Sighing, she gave in. For now. Next time she'd pay more attention.
For Ianto
Tosh remembered the first time she'd seen Ianto. It had been in the days after Canary Wharf, during the cleanup. They'd gotten there first, to take care of any sensitive matters before the army had come in. Ianto had been one of the few, one of the survivors of Torchwood One. Unlike the others, he hadn't broken down, or walked around in a daze, but had simply pitched in. Directing them to things they might need to know about, cleaning up behind them. It was like he was falling into a role that no one knew he'd be in officially soon enough.
She brought him coffee the second day. He'd taken one look at the tray of cups and taken them from her, shaking his head, returning ten minutes later with coffee from a different cafe, the one Tosh had walked past.
"I'm sorry, I couldn't let you poison anyone." He'd smiled then, slightly. She'd smiled back, not at all offended. Jack, Suzi and Owen all knew not to drink her coffee. That she couldn't even pick a decent cafe, it didn't surprise her at all.
For Spike
It wasn't like it was really her fault. Okay, so maybe she shouldn't have told Buffy that she'd seen Spike lurking around so much. But just because Buffy had been too preoccupied to notice, didn't mean that everyone else was blind too. Somewhat predicatably Buffy had freaked out on Spike, and now Spike was here at the Magic Box, staring at her like... Like she was some sort of puppy-kicker or something.
"What?" She said, only somewhat defensively.
"Why'd you have to open your big yap? What I do, and who I follow is none of your business princess, no matter what you think."
"Oh please," Anya looked at him derisively. "Just because you're like a lovesick teenager doesn't mean the rest of us have to put up with your moping and whining. I swear, if Buffy wasn't so distracted she'd've noticed you first. You're practically oozing patheticness."
He flew at her raising his hand to hit her when the chip kicked in, making him grab his head in pain.
"Yeah, I thought so." she sounded satisfied, "You know you used to be the sort of vampire a girl could respect, even after you started in with the do-gooding. I mean, nothing against it, I understand the being helpful, but really Spike, she's never going to fall for you at this rate."
He looked at her warily. After all, relationship advice from the ex-demon who didn't quite get things? "Like I bloody need your help."
"Actually, yes. You do." And he was going to get it, whether he wanted it or not.
For Tonks
Tonks was frustrated. Beyond frustrated. This just wasn't fair. It wasn't her fault that she'd broken all those vials in potions, and the room had gone up like it did. It could have happened to anyone. The fact that it turned everyone's hair green for a few hours, well that amused Tonks. Mostly because she immediately was able to turn her hair bright red. Okay, maybe that had been the straw that broke the gryphon's back. This detention though, seemed completely unjustified. Scrubbing the floors with a small bristle brush, she sighed to herself again. One small slip, and vials crashing to the floor...
Next time she'd make sure that there was something at least a bit more entertaining in them. Then maybe the trouble would be worth it.
For Jack, Harkness that is
There were so many things she'd found odd about Jack. The hand had always been the oddest. The way he'd stare it it when he didn't think anyone was looking. How sometimes she'd review bits of the security tape and he'd be sitting next to it, his hands on the case, the look on his face... It was a look she'd seen on hers too many times. One of hurt, and confusion. It wasn't JAck, not the Jack she knew. She just knew that the hand meant something to him, something he'd never explain to any of them, that she never even tried to bring up.
She just watched instead, seeing more than anyone ever thought she did.
For Claire Bennett
The cheerleading uniform. She couldn't believe that she'd been given it, that it was going to be her. But it was, and that was it. She, Claire Bennett, a cheerleader. Everything she'd worked towards for all those years, everything she'd wanted.
Or was it?
Her mom had been ecstatic, her dad, happy. Everyone had congratulated her.
Yet it still wasn't enough somehow. It wasn't everything she'd always hoped it would be. As she sat there in the changeroom, the sweater clutched tightly in her hands, she wondered why it was she thought it would fix everything. When it was obvious that a mere garment couldn't fix anything. Not how strange she was, not her worries, none of it.
But she'd hoped. And now she'd been let down. Again.
For Sam and Sybil Vimes
Dragons. Those damned dragons were everywhere. Vimes held up his favourite shirt, the one he wore all the time. The one that felt like a second skin. It had a burn hole straight through the centre. He couldn't be sure that Sybil hadn't encouraged one of the damned things to burn it up.
It was when he saw his boots that he knew it had to have ben her. He knew that he'd put those away. He loved those boots, could feel every cobble of Ankh-Morpork through the soles. It was hard work getting your boots to that stage.
He glared at Sybil as he walked into the kitchen, the charred remains of his boots and shirt in his hands. "Do you know anything about this?"
Sybil looked at him from where she was feeding young Samuel, smiling, "What are you going on about? You must have left them out."
He glared more. "Left them out?"
"Yes. Not put them away. I've told you over and over that if you leave things where the dragons can get to them, I can't be held responsible for their actions." She smiled again. Always a sign of guilt in Vimes' book.
But then again, he knew that some arguments could never be won, and turned, storming out of the kitchen.
"Oh and I've had new boots and a shirt laid out for you dear," she called out after him.
"Bloody women," he mumbled, but softly. Sybil's hearing was amazing.
"I heard that!"
He winced as he made his way to get dressed. He'd be lucky to get dinner tonight.
For Rodney MacKay and John Sheppard
"LIME! Do you see this? Do you know what this is? What this means?" Doctor McKay shouted at Teyla and Major Sheppard, a small plate with a square green block shoved under their noses.
Teyla could not believe that any one person could make such a fuss over what seemed to be a rather innocuous, if wobbly, dessert. In fact, she could not believe that one person could make such a fuss over anything before this. The past few days had made her think differently though.
"No Rodney, what does it mean?" Major Sheppard replied in what Teyla had already identified as his amused i'm trying to not hit you voice. He glanced at Teyla and rolled his eyes. Doctor McKay did not notice.
"It means they are trying to kill me," he spoke to them as if they were idiots. Leaning across the counter he shouted into the kitchen, "I'm onto you! I know what's going on here! Don't think I'll fall for it either!"
Major Sheppard placed one hand on Doctor McKay's shoulder, the other taking the plate and passing it to Teyla. "Just let go of the jello Rodney. Nobodies trying to kill you. Look, here's chocolate pudding, how about you try that instead."
"Probably chocolate lemon pudding," he mumbled, but grabbed three bowls anyway, grumbling to himself the whole way back to his table.
Once he was out of earshot Major Sheppard turned to her with a grin. "I told them to make lime jello." Grabbing a plate for himself, he went to join Doctor McKay.
Only three days on Atlantis, and already Teyla was wondering about the sanity of those here. It was not an auspicious beginning.
For Carson Beckett
Teyla had convinced Doctor Beckett to agree and try his hand at Bantos once, and only once. She was not sure how she managed it, but gave more credit to Rodney's derisiveness then to her own persuasive nature.
There always seemed to be an emergency though, some reason that he could not make it. He was so effusive in his apologies, and so relived looking if she were honest, that she never pushed him that much. In some way she enjoyed the panicked look he'd give her when she came into the clinic before the time they'd set up. Carson would have another reason why he couldn't make it that way, and Teyla would accept, the corners of her mouth pulling up in amusement.
That he never noticed she was amused, amused her more. Eventually she let it drop. But every once in a while on her way to practice she would drop into the clinic, sticks in her hand, just to see the momentary flash of panic in his eyes that he hid so badly.
For Bridget Jones
It was amazing the things you learned in jail. First that karaoke as an art form was far more appreciated by thai women who were incarcerated. Second, that jail was v.good for weight loss, Third, also reduced alcohol unit consumption. =She mentally ran through the list, one to twenty as she fixed her tights, hopping about her apartment on one foot, fag hanging from her mouth and drink on the edge of the basin.
"Bollocks" A ladder, just what she didn't need. She wanted to get out, to the bar, to see her friends, again. To relish her freedom, every moment of it. To have a good whinge about Mark oh so righteous Darcy. Pulling the ruined tights off she decided bare legs and boots was new look.
Should look into book contract. Writing memoirs v.profitable and glamourous.
Wow. I didn't realise I'd written quite so many...
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Date: 2007-06-30 12:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-30 01:30 pm (UTC)