Stolen from the flist - write-for-me meme

[misscam]

For !lo, I am greedy.

Comment to this post with an offer to write in any fandom that you or I have in common. I will answer with a prompt. Then, you will write me comment-fic, snippets, or whatever comes to mind. Now go post this in your own journal and demand fic of your very own! Make your flist work! You had a long week and you DESERVE it, dammit!

Comments

[crackpig.livejournal.com]

Discworld, m'lady. Prompt me with a big stick.

:D

[misscam.livejournal.com]

An unusual encounter in the Temple of Small Gods.

[crackpig.livejournal.com]

I've done me best, being out of practice at writing and all.

All characters, settings and so on copyright Terry Pratchett (the character Mooncalf was in the Discworld Noir game).

Here you go! 542 words of badfic!:

Rain battered the Temple’s roof like a child throwing a particularly violent tantrum, while down inside a handful of the good citizens of Ankh-Morpork with nothing better to do gazed around at the symbols of countless gods and the occasional demonic victim of mistaken identity. There were also a few watchmen, settling up after a funeral. The roof was new, the old one having been stolen by a young man from the Ramtops who knew another young man who paid a good price for lead.

And it leaked. The sound of the water trickling down into the Temple and splashing into buckets, pots and anything else that could be borrowed had been bothering Sgt Fred Colon for some time. It sounded to him like somebody faintly saying “Whoo” a lot, just at the edge of hearing. It did, in point of fact, sound like a stereotypical ghost. It was enough to put the wind up places where Sgt Colon would prefer there not to be wind.

He looked around. Nobody else seemed to have noticed, and so he chided himself that he was imagining things. Still, he was on edge and so edged off towards the privy outside. It was worth getting wet again to put his bladder at rest. The trickle was beginning as, just beside his left ear, he heard it again.

“Whoo”

Fred span around, splashing the privy with fluid best left un-described, but if you’re curious just try to imagine a beer brewed by Dibbler. The privy was empty besides one highly shat-up watch sergeant. Somebody was playing that old family favourite game of silly buggers. Sgt Colon believed in things going bump in the night, having come face to face with Death on many a dark dangerous night - and occasionally in the curry house.

He stomped from the privy and back into the Temple, getting a surprising distance before the leather breaches around his ankles tripped him full length along the tiles. His breast plate clanged against the floor and echoed with the strange acoustics of the room. No doubt the architect had specifically designed it for a bit of echo. Sgt Colon yanked his breeches up and, panting, pulled himself to his feet. No harm done, and with no witnesses he could even claim his pride un-bruised.

“ ’is name’s Mooncalf,” said another voice, considerably lower than Fred’s ear. Getting in more spinning practice, he turned to see Mrs Cake. She held a mop, a bucket, and was almost certainly the reason why the young priest had tripped over his words five times during the funeral, before developing a nervous tic.

“He was a suicide,” she continued, “ by which I mean he climbed up onto the roof and annoyed the gods.”

“Which god?” asked Sgt Colon, who wasn’t entirely with it.

“Oh, all of them I think,” sniffed Mrs Cake, “ ‘e was happy up in the old roof because ‘is foot was there, got blown right off by that lightning, silly bugger. I said to ‘im just yesterday, I said, What did you want to go renouncing faith for?”

“Uh…”

“Oh, just you run along. I’ll get ’im to leave you alone. I’ll ask nicely.”

Fred fled. It seemed the thing to do.

[misscam.livejournal.com]

I PLAYED THAT GAME.

Actually, it always tended to crash on my old computer when Mooncalf got snuffed by lightning. Very sad. But fun game still, getting turned into a werewolf and all.

I actually enjoyed that, so a bit of fail as badfic :P

[crackpig.livejournal.com]

Fail? Curses, double curses and, indeed, triple curses.

With a cherry on top.

Was a great little game. I've still got it somewhere, but it probably wouldn't work on this here more-modern system after eight or nine years.

[misscam.livejournal.com]

I tried to install mine again recently and my shiny new computer didn't want to. *cries*

[gabz33.livejournal.com]

WoT. Of course - unless you like LotR too.

I can do a crossover... and no slash. Maybe implied, but nothing explicit. I cannot write smut to save my life. O virtuous me.

=]

-Mackenzie

[gabz33.livejournal.com]

Correction. Thought you were someone else. =\

LotR. Unless you've read Stephen King's 'Misery', which I just finished and currently worship. (He's a facking genius.)

The slash comment still stands. =]

-Mackenzie

[misscam.livejournal.com]

:P If WoT is Wheel of Time, I did read that series for a while. Kinda lost patience with it a bit, but I was still sad when Robert Jordan died. Misery, I haven't read.

Anyway, prompt you can pick which fandom you'd write for:

The night before a full moon.

[dawning-star.livejournal.com]

I'm game for CSI.

[misscam.livejournal.com]

Miss Marple's favourite observation.

[dawning-star.livejournal.com]

Who is Miss Marple?

[misscam.livejournal.com]

Agatha Christie character.

[siraj.livejournal.com]

count me in for a Doctor Who fic... it'll keep me from getting rusty with the fandom.

[misscam.livejournal.com]

The planet ruled by hedgehogs.

[siraj.livejournal.com]

... *Dies laughing!* Okay, that's a deal! Expect it to be posted later today!

[synecdoche.livejournal.com]

I'd love to write you some Doctor Who fic. ♥
(It's not even greedy of you, because I've enjoyed yours so much.)

[misscam.livejournal.com]

(Awww :D)

The awkaward silence at unexpected nudity.

[synecdoche.livejournal.com]

Here goes nothing:

Afterwards, in Pete's world, not all the memories that Rose has are wistful. Some of them make her laugh, even.

Like this:

On the way to one time or another -- she can't quite remember -- she burst into the TARDIS wardrobe to find the Doctor stark naked, his brown suit in a heap on the floor.

A moment of silence had passed, during which Rose at once wanted to look everywhere and nowhere. She couldn't conjure up the right words to say.

The simplest solution was to run out of the room.

But later, when she was sitting awkwardly in her room, the Doctor's knock sounded on the door. Instead of the brown suit, his jacket and trousers are TARDIS-blue, and before he can speak, the words burst out of Rose.

"I liked the brown one better, you know." She couldn't bring herself to look at him, even if they've been to the four corners of the galaxy. It was just too weird.

But he sat on the bed next to her, close enough that she can still, in memory, recall the heat radiating from his body.

"Is that right?" he said, low.

And Rose will remember later that this was the moment she couldn't take the tension between them anymore. Later she might even think of this as the time when she really grew up, finally.

"You know, Doctor," she answered, cheeks flushed, "I could change it for you. If you want."

Their bodies were so close together that it took only the slightest effort for them to touch, fingers twining and mouths sliding up against each other.

Soon, the blue suit joined its brown cousin in a heap on the ground, but Rose forgot about it entirely. She won't savor the details until later.

(In another universe, the Doctor will put on a blue suit when he wants to remember. He'll change it eventually. He'll pretend he can control the remembering and the forgetting as easily as Rose once slipped that blue suit off his body.
He should really get around to buying another suit.)

[misscam.livejournal.com]

Heh, decidedly cute :D And nicely bittersweet too.

Thank you!

[starletfallen.livejournal.com]

I think we've got Doctor Who in common? :D

[misscam.livejournal.com]

A rain of yogurt.

[waterfall8484]

I'll write you a Doctor Who crossover with any fandom on my interest list (or something else that you think I might know). Anything to get more fics on my crossovers100 table! :~)

[misscam.livejournal.com]

Babylon 5.

Nearer the stars no mortal may walk.

[waterfall8484]

Yikes! Okay, that aught to teach me to think before I comment... I haven't actually watched much B5 except random episodes when it was on the telly, and Season 1 quite a while ago... thanks for reminding me that I need to watch the rest though! :~)

I'm afraid you'll either have to pick something else or wait until I've watched at least a few more episodes... sorry about that! I love the prompt though, and I'll definitely do a DW/B5 crossover when I've watched a bit more, because the thought of the Doctor meeting Ivanova is too good to ignore.

[b2wm.livejournal.com]

I could do LotR or Discworld.

[misscam.livejournal.com]

Your choice of the two.

The desire to reject forgiveness.

Because I haven't written Vimesy in forever:

[b2wm.livejournal.com]

"You are a dear, Captain Vimes, but surely a young man like you needs the money more than I do. Our Calvin looks in on his mum from time to time, you know. The constable may not have approved much of our Calvin's work, but silent impressionists do turn a decent penny." At least until Vetinari's men found them, and then they just turned over the scorpion pit.

Sam shook his head, pressing the bag back to her. It wasn't all that much, but his little black book was getting heavy enough that he didn't want to be weighed down by extra drinking money, too. "It's the least I could do, Mrs. Garret. You and Constable Garret deserve all that and more."

"We don't blame you, Captain,” the older woman said gently. “You did everything you could to protect my husband.”

“I don’t know about that.” He should have legged it back when Garret began to fall behind. The constable hadn’t been the youngest on the force in a long time. He was going deaf, and probably hadn’t realized that he’d rung his bell loud enough to insure that all was not going to be well with him.

“As long as you know the important things, Captain Vimes,” Mrs. Garret told him. “That includes the fact that you’re always welcome here.”

“Thank-you, ma’am. I may put that to the test some time.” If he could stumble this far from the pubs, he might take her up on the offer.