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last01standingI'm trying to do nano warm-up type stuff. So, if you prompt me, you may get a drabble.
Fair game fandoms: XMFC, Merlin, New DW (eleven era), LOM, Dresden Files, Psych, Dexter (I haven't seen this season though), Sherlock, Scrubs, supernatural (season 5 or before), or any crossover of the above.
Fair game fandoms: XMFC, Merlin, New DW (eleven era), LOM, Dresden Files, Psych, Dexter (I haven't seen this season though), Sherlock, Scrubs, supernatural (season 5 or before), or any crossover of the above.
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(no subject)
26/10/11 02:17 (UTC)XMFC. Charles is notoriously fussy about how he takes his tea. Erik isn't sure whether this idiosyncrasy is exasperating or charming in its own odd way.
Or:
XMFC/Sherlock crossover. Sherlock's observational skills are too keen to be entirely human.
Or:
DW/LOM crossover: (I don't even know where I'd go with this, but I can see Rory and Sam getting along while Gene and the Doctor would cause each other a great deal of consternation.)
(no subject)
26/10/11 03:00 (UTC)Raven, Erik knows, has forbidden Charles from reading her mind. Erik thinks this is a rather callous statement of fact especially when he knows Raven hates that Charles has forced her into hiding her own talents. He supposes it might be a gross breech of privacy, but Charles strikes him as someone with enough discretion to know what corners of a memory to leave alone.
Still, it's just a facet of life at the mansion, just like the apparently limitless quantities of loose tea in the kitchen. Erik's never sure who actually makes the tea, but the kettle is always at the ready when Charles makes it downstairs. He pours himself a cup, takes a sip and either finishes it right there standing in front of the kettle or dumps it down the sink and goes outside to collect the morning paper.
By the time he's back inside, there's always a new pot of tea.
Erik doesn't think much of it until one morning he finds himself standing in front of the tea kettle with no real recollection of how he got there.
Charles is hovering at his shoulder, eyes foggy with lack of sleep. He takes the pot from Erik's hands and pours himself a cup, smiling at his first sip. "My friend, this is exquisite. Thank you." He collects the paper and moves to the sitting room to finish it.
Raven finds Erik standing there just a few seconds later, the blonde mask wrinkled in annoyance. "You made Charles his morning tea."
"I suppose I did."
She lets out a huff. "Typical. That's just typical."
"I'm sorry?"
"Why do you think I always asked Charles to stay out of my head?" Raven says when he asks.
"Because it's a gross invasion of privacy."
Raven shakes her head and then it dawns on him.
"You asked him to stay out of your head because he would mind control you into making him tea." The realization is something between horror and astonishment. "Doesn't that go against his moral doctrine?"
"He refuse to do it for anything else," Raven says. "But according to Charles, properly made tea trumps morals."
I have a hard time seeing Sherlock in the XMFC verse. Mainly because logic and mutants DO NOT COMPUTE. But but DW/LOM because clearly the Doctor thinks Sam Tyler is a fob-watched master (except he's not and it's Rory who is. Because he's a stealth badass like that.)
(no subject)
26/10/11 03:01 (UTC)(no subject)
26/10/11 03:28 (UTC)"So you're saying I'm not actually crazy." Sam was having a hard time visualizing that concept when the man telling him it had materialized from nowhere out of a police box.
"Crazy? No. Of course I might not actually be qualified to make that diagnosis. Not that kind of Doctor. Do you feel crazy, Sam Tyler? Maybe hear drumming."
"Drumming?"
"You know, drumming. A rhythm in your head that doesn't stop. Never stops. Dun dun dun dun. Dun dun dun dun. Something like that. Feel familiar"
"No, I have some problems with the girl in the test card on the telly, but no drums. Voices sometimes."
"Voices? Do they tell you to kill people?"
"Mostly they just talk to me. Tell me to keep fighting. That I have to show some response or they're going to pull the plug."
The Doctor whipped out his sonic screwdriver to scan Sam up and down. "Yes, everything looks normal. Human even. But oh, that's strange. Very strange. There are rifts through the universe you see, places where space and time go all…funny and you're right at the centre one. You fell through a rift and you've been hearing echoes of how your life would go if you'd not fallen through, do you by any chance have a fob watch?"
"What," Sam blinks, "no. I'm starting to think you're just some nutter."
"A mad man with a box that travels in time. I have some lovely companions who accompany me even. I could get you back to your time. Only if you like of course, bit of a strange situation, but I'm the king of fixing strange situations. Or not the king, I've never liked the thought of wearing a big hunk of metal on my head. Not when I could have a fez or a Stetson instead. But that's besides the point. I'll tell you what: I'm going to pop out for a bit, close that rift of yours, and when I get back I can either leave you here or take you back to 2006. Up to you, really. How does that sound, Sam?"
From a room over, Gene Hunt bellows, "Tyler!"
Sam shuffles his feet. "I think I may be able to keep busy for a moment or too."
The Doctor nods, slipping back into the Tardis. "Ponds! He calls. False alarm, where we planning to go next. I promised you adventure."
"So that bloke's not a homicidal Timelord turned human then?" Amy says, twirling around the consol.
"No," the Doctor replies, throwing a lever. "Just a human who fell through a rift in space and time. Happens all the time. We're going to go put it right."
"Did you, actually need a watch?" Rory says, digging through his pocket. "Because you can use mine. I mean the clasp doesn't work but I'm sure you can sonic it or something."
(no subject)
26/10/11 05:46 (UTC)(no subject)
26/10/11 05:52 (UTC)(If I had psychic powers I might be tempted to do something similar. Sometimes I feel like Charles and I would get along alarmingly well.)
(no subject)
26/10/11 18:17 (UTC)When John gets right down to it, playing hockey in Winnipeg is a lot like playing hockey in Atlanta. Sure, the arena was sold out and the entire city is absolutely mad with glee at having hockey back after far too long an absence and that's all well and good but…
Despite the new color scheme, new arena and new city, the Jets are, at their core, still the Atlanta Thrashers. And despite somewhat of a rally toward the end of last season, they still aren't a particularly good hockey team. In the opener, Sherlock pitches sixty minutes of one-goal hockey only to lose one to nothing. In their second game he pitches somewhat of a fit and gives up three goals on the first three shots just to spite the offense before Lestrade has to call time to get John to yell at him.
By late October, the chill's set into the air and John's anticipating the next swing to a city in the Sun Belt. He doesn't know how he's going to survive when the divisions realign and they're no longer playing in the Southeast. He gets home after a few drinks with the team only to find the apartment he shares with Sherlock has more or less equilibrated with the outside world. "Sherlock," he calls. "You promised no experiments on the heater. It's bad enough we're in a city that tries to skip summer every year without you messing about with the heat every day."
He finds Sherlock sitting in their living room. Patrick Roy, the skull observing him as he enters. Sherlock has his mask sitting on his lap, staring at him with the intent that he usually studies game film. "I've been thinking," he says, "about painting my mask."
The mask as it is now is stark white with a single cartoon drawing of a magnifying glass. Sherlock has never been in a city long enough to adopt the colors into the design. John takes a deep breath of frigid air and has to struggle to keep his voice even. "You'll keep the magnifying glass, of course."
"Obviously."
"Is there any chance you can fix our heating before you make the big decisions."
"Cold sharpens the mind, John."
"Cold also sharpens the whopping pain my shoulder. I'm going to call a repairman."
(no subject)
26/10/11 18:51 (UTC)(no subject)
28/10/11 15:58 (UTC)Merlin - Morgana - In some of the earliest versions of legend, Morgana was Arthur's physician and a renowned healer.
OR
Psych - Pairing: Carlton Lassiter/Juliet O'Hara - Prompt: If we can be the best of lovers / Yet be the best of friends
OR
Psych - Pairing: Carlton Lassiter/Juliet O'Hara - Prompt: You've broken the speed of the sound of loneliness
(no subject)
29/10/11 04:16 (UTC)He has a thing for strong women. Lassiter' remembers the first time it really hit him, when Karen Vick, too small for her profession, twisted the arm of a perp twice her size and slammed her into hood of her car. He would have asked her out on the spot if not for the fact that she scares him a little.
His now-ex wife had the same personality minus the badge and the gun.
What can he say, he has a type. A type that Spencer pegs him for within seconds and then it's out with the old partner, in with the new.
And Jules is better, in nearly every way. She's faster, smarter and just an all around pleasant person. Lassiter genuinely enjoys her presence and despite her sunny demeanor Juliet smiles more at Lassiter than the others. It's a natural extension to move from the day spent on a stake out, to a celebratory post-arrest drink. And before either of them realize what's happening Juliet is giggling into her fourth martini and Lassiter is still plowing his way through scotch and when he turns his head the wrong way, Juliet's lips are just there. By the time they make it to bed, they're on the back end of drunk, moving back into sober, and neither of them stop.
In the morning they eat breakfast, shower and go to work in their separate cars. Neither of them are particularly interested in talking in it so they don't, but the second the clock's out, and they're alone it happens again. And again until it's the most normal thing in the world to watch a Chuck Norris movie on Lassiter's television as Juliet sits curled up against him in just a bra.
Spencer hits on Juliet at every turn and Lassiter's greatest joy is watching her rebuff his advances. For all his supposed gifts, this is a blind spot of his. He can't pinpoint the change because in all actuality, nothing changed. Juliet is Lassiter's best friend. Everything else is just a bonus.
(no subject)
29/10/11 17:41 (UTC)(no subject)
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21/2/12 07:37 (UTC)(no subject)
8/3/12 03:21 (UTC)By the time John makes it back, Sherlock's awake and listing off deductions about a curly haired doctor. "Judging by your stethoscope and pockets, you've had problems controlling your temper. Doctor of your age should be higher than a mere attending, that's the rage issues, but the fact that you haven't been fired yet tells me you're at least passably competent. You've a son of no more than two. Illegitimate of course, I can't imagine you've managed to sustain lasting relations with a woman--"
Three quick whistles cut Sherlock off midstream. "This is very impressive, Mr. Detective, but I'm aware of my issues and don't need some high functioning autistic listing them out for the rest of the cretins to hear, mmmkay?"
"Sociopath was the diagnosis," Sherlock says. "And you're not my doctor."
"I pity the poor soul with that distinction. Looks like you've had a pretty major concussion. We'd keep you overnight for observation, but I'm pretty sure you'd make half of the delicate flowers who pass for doctors cry. And as much fun as that is, people could die. The guy who brought you in was a doctor. I'll see about discharging you to his care." He spots John at the door and slams the clipboard into his chest. "Your friend is concussed and buckets of crazy. Enjoy."
(no subject)
8/3/12 04:02 (UTC)I freaking love you
*Showers you with adoration*
(no subject)
8/3/12 04:08 (UTC)(no subject)
8/3/12 07:23 (UTC)