Drabble Tag at WomenVerse
Jan. 27th, 2014 08:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
catkoThese were for a "drabble tag" challenge at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
womenverse where someone writes a drabble, then the next person chooses a three-word phrase from that story and uses it in their own. Rule: all stories must feature women characters, or be about a woman. So...
1) Recover the Diamonds, Castle
“…and then all we had to do was recover the diamonds.” Beckett raised her wineglass with a flourish.
“Wow, Kate, that’s an amazing story!” Alexis was leaning forward, rapt. “Awesome deduction—I mean, to figure out he’d slingshotted them into the crystal chandelier!”
Martha raised her hands dramatically. “Yes, indeed, Kate, and what a glamorous crime! Complete with diamonds, I mean, the way to a girl’s heart!”
Alexis frowned and shook her head vigorously. “Nuh-uh, Grams! Not this girl. I detest the whole idea. Do you know they use child labor to mine and shape those? People die over them! and animals too! Not to mention conflict diamonds, they are used to fund war!”
Martha gestured with a zipping motion near Alexis’s mouth. “Not to mention, then let’s not mention it. Why must everything wonderful in life be spoiled by politics.”
“Why must PEOPLE’S lives be spoiled by horrible luxuries that only a few can afford?” Alexis looked affronted and turned toward Beckett. “Kate, you agree, don’t you? I mean, you’ve even seen people be killed in New York over those stupid rocks. You just told us a story about that!”
Kate looked apologetically at Martha. “Well, I must admit, I’ve never understood the appeal, and once I heard the backstory—“ with a nod to Alexis, “then even less so. But…” with an apologetic look at Alexis, “umm, something happened that kind of changed my mind.” Almost unconsciously, she stretched out her hand, and the eyes of all three women lit on her engagement ring.
Alexis snorted, Martha crowed with delight, and Kate, smiling shyly, took another swig of wine.
2) A Bar Fight, Sherlock BBC
“A bar fight? You got into a BAR FIGHT? With MYCROFT?”
Sherlock flinched at the combined effect of John’s shouting and his application of iodine to the gouge over Sherlock’s right eyebrow. “Yes, John, must you keep repeating. A bar fight, or if you prefer, a pub brawl.” He glared mutinously over the icepack he was pressing on his left cheekbone.
“I don’t know which is more astonishing,” muttered John, as he carefully checked Sherlock’s knuckles. “That you were in a bar, that you got into a fight, or that you were with Mycroft. Wait--were you fighting WITH him, or … well, against him?”
Sherlock’s gaze leveled. “We were on the same side, for once. If you would allow me to explain, tedious as that is. We met at the pub on,” waving his hand vaguely, “family matters, and it happened to be Trivia Night, and the answer to the chemistry question was so egregiously incorrect, that I had to intervene. Well, the compere took offense, as did some of the players, and there you have it. Ignorance, inebriation, and idiocy. A deadly mix.”
“You’re lucky it wasn’t deadly for you. Looks like you got the bad end of it, unless Mycroft is worse.”
“Yeah? You shoulda seen the other guys,” growled Sherlock in a mock American-gangster twang.
“Oh really? You and Mycroft bested a team of pub brawlers?” John's lips twitched with barely-suppressed laughter.
“Mmmm, no. Of course, we could have, we studied boxing, and I retain my abilities, though Mycroft has become horribly sedentary. But in any case, it was—“
“Ah, yes, Mycroft’s security, hardly a fair fight. A bunch of trained blokes against an average lot. Hope it wasn’t messy.”
Sherlock looked amused. “It only took one, and SHE made rather neat work of it actually.”
“Wha—ohhh.” John’s mind wandered over an imagining of the scene, as Sherlock pulled his hands back and made his escape.
3) Any Way Out; Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Buffy steeled herself, took a deep breath, and opened the huge wooden door—a relic of a past era, scored and scratched by who knows what kind of demon activity. As she looked into the long, cavernous hallway, she could feel the buzz of unearthly noise and clatter, echoing with shouts, clanging and banging. She struggled to keep her calm, stay in the zone, and feel her toned responses at the ready. She bounced on the balls of her feet, almost unnoticeably, and hefted the weight on her back, shifting the strap to a more viable spot on her shoulder.
Outwardly, she projected the calm of a warrior. But inside, she felt the panic rise, and she had to suppress the desire of her body to turn and run towards any way out.
“Come on, girl, you can do it,” she muttered to herself, as prepared to step into the building for her first day at Sunnydale High.
4) After sex meal; Firefly
Kaylee stretched and yawned, feeling luxurious even on the thin mattress of her bunk, and, as usual upon waking, smiled up at the pink fluffy dress hanging before her. But this particular waking, her back was rather uncomfortably pressed up against the wall, so she had to crane her neck a bit over her shoulder to see.
Of course, she had no complaints, since her front side was pressed against the warm, naked body of the ship’s doctor. She moved her lips to tickle his ear, and he murmured and turned towards her. “Morning,” he said sleepily, “or … whatever it is.” “It’s the morning after,” she said, looking at him closely, maybe for signs of dismay or regret. “A good morning after,” he said promptly, reaching for her and turning so they were front-to-front. They held each other closely for a few breaths, and then he drew back to look at her. “But, I have to admit, my main thought is…gosh, I’m hungry.” She quirked an eyebrow, thought for a moment, then laughed, “Me, too! Now, what kind of spread would you have on Osiris for the morning after?”
Simon looked a touch sheepish. “Well. I’m not sure I’d know. But that’s…irrelevant. Let’s start our own custom. What can we have on Serenity as an after sex meal?’ Kaylee brushed his lips with hers and said throatily, “Protein mush and fiber bars.”
Simon hummed and pulled her close again. “Sounds delightful. Let’s earn it.”
5) Suitable, but gross; Fringe
“Sure, we studied transgenics, but that was for agricultural purposes, not for reanimating dead humans.” Peter looked bleakly at the body on the lab table. “I mean, it would be a longshot at best, and it’s not like we have time for months of DNA sequencing. Cedric here,”—indicating the corpse—“isn’t going to last much longer.”
“Peter!” Walter scolded. “You must broaden your thinking. As I did when I had Gene brought here. Astrid, let us proceed.” Astrid looked dubiously at the equipment spread out on a table near the lab’s cow, placidly standing in her makeshift pen. “Um, Walter, I understand the procedure, but I don’t understand why…”
Walter gestured broadly. “In 2011, Chinese scientists generated dairy cows engineered with genes of human beings to produce milk that would be the same as human breast milk. Gene is a descendant of that line. Therefore, her milk carries specific genes…well, this is beginning to sound repetitive. All we need is a few moments of the victim’s brain activity to discern the retinal images of his last observation before death. The cells we will abstract from Gene’s udder lining will provide the perfect medium for temporarily re-connecting the neural pathways of our friend here. It will be perfectly suitable.”
Peter looked sardonic, but grudgingly impressed. “Suitable, but gross,” he acknowledged with a crooked grin. “Then again, re-animation always is.”
womenverse where someone writes a drabble, then the next person chooses a three-word phrase from that story and uses it in their own. Rule: all stories must feature women characters, or be about a woman. So...1) Recover the Diamonds, Castle
“…and then all we had to do was recover the diamonds.” Beckett raised her wineglass with a flourish.
“Wow, Kate, that’s an amazing story!” Alexis was leaning forward, rapt. “Awesome deduction—I mean, to figure out he’d slingshotted them into the crystal chandelier!”
Martha raised her hands dramatically. “Yes, indeed, Kate, and what a glamorous crime! Complete with diamonds, I mean, the way to a girl’s heart!”
Alexis frowned and shook her head vigorously. “Nuh-uh, Grams! Not this girl. I detest the whole idea. Do you know they use child labor to mine and shape those? People die over them! and animals too! Not to mention conflict diamonds, they are used to fund war!”
Martha gestured with a zipping motion near Alexis’s mouth. “Not to mention, then let’s not mention it. Why must everything wonderful in life be spoiled by politics.”
“Why must PEOPLE’S lives be spoiled by horrible luxuries that only a few can afford?” Alexis looked affronted and turned toward Beckett. “Kate, you agree, don’t you? I mean, you’ve even seen people be killed in New York over those stupid rocks. You just told us a story about that!”
Kate looked apologetically at Martha. “Well, I must admit, I’ve never understood the appeal, and once I heard the backstory—“ with a nod to Alexis, “then even less so. But…” with an apologetic look at Alexis, “umm, something happened that kind of changed my mind.” Almost unconsciously, she stretched out her hand, and the eyes of all three women lit on her engagement ring.
Alexis snorted, Martha crowed with delight, and Kate, smiling shyly, took another swig of wine.
2) A Bar Fight, Sherlock BBC
“A bar fight? You got into a BAR FIGHT? With MYCROFT?”
Sherlock flinched at the combined effect of John’s shouting and his application of iodine to the gouge over Sherlock’s right eyebrow. “Yes, John, must you keep repeating. A bar fight, or if you prefer, a pub brawl.” He glared mutinously over the icepack he was pressing on his left cheekbone.
“I don’t know which is more astonishing,” muttered John, as he carefully checked Sherlock’s knuckles. “That you were in a bar, that you got into a fight, or that you were with Mycroft. Wait--were you fighting WITH him, or … well, against him?”
Sherlock’s gaze leveled. “We were on the same side, for once. If you would allow me to explain, tedious as that is. We met at the pub on,” waving his hand vaguely, “family matters, and it happened to be Trivia Night, and the answer to the chemistry question was so egregiously incorrect, that I had to intervene. Well, the compere took offense, as did some of the players, and there you have it. Ignorance, inebriation, and idiocy. A deadly mix.”
“You’re lucky it wasn’t deadly for you. Looks like you got the bad end of it, unless Mycroft is worse.”
“Yeah? You shoulda seen the other guys,” growled Sherlock in a mock American-gangster twang.
“Oh really? You and Mycroft bested a team of pub brawlers?” John's lips twitched with barely-suppressed laughter.
“Mmmm, no. Of course, we could have, we studied boxing, and I retain my abilities, though Mycroft has become horribly sedentary. But in any case, it was—“
“Ah, yes, Mycroft’s security, hardly a fair fight. A bunch of trained blokes against an average lot. Hope it wasn’t messy.”
Sherlock looked amused. “It only took one, and SHE made rather neat work of it actually.”
“Wha—ohhh.” John’s mind wandered over an imagining of the scene, as Sherlock pulled his hands back and made his escape.
3) Any Way Out; Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Buffy steeled herself, took a deep breath, and opened the huge wooden door—a relic of a past era, scored and scratched by who knows what kind of demon activity. As she looked into the long, cavernous hallway, she could feel the buzz of unearthly noise and clatter, echoing with shouts, clanging and banging. She struggled to keep her calm, stay in the zone, and feel her toned responses at the ready. She bounced on the balls of her feet, almost unnoticeably, and hefted the weight on her back, shifting the strap to a more viable spot on her shoulder.
Outwardly, she projected the calm of a warrior. But inside, she felt the panic rise, and she had to suppress the desire of her body to turn and run towards any way out.
“Come on, girl, you can do it,” she muttered to herself, as prepared to step into the building for her first day at Sunnydale High.
4) After sex meal; Firefly
Kaylee stretched and yawned, feeling luxurious even on the thin mattress of her bunk, and, as usual upon waking, smiled up at the pink fluffy dress hanging before her. But this particular waking, her back was rather uncomfortably pressed up against the wall, so she had to crane her neck a bit over her shoulder to see.
Of course, she had no complaints, since her front side was pressed against the warm, naked body of the ship’s doctor. She moved her lips to tickle his ear, and he murmured and turned towards her. “Morning,” he said sleepily, “or … whatever it is.” “It’s the morning after,” she said, looking at him closely, maybe for signs of dismay or regret. “A good morning after,” he said promptly, reaching for her and turning so they were front-to-front. They held each other closely for a few breaths, and then he drew back to look at her. “But, I have to admit, my main thought is…gosh, I’m hungry.” She quirked an eyebrow, thought for a moment, then laughed, “Me, too! Now, what kind of spread would you have on Osiris for the morning after?”
Simon looked a touch sheepish. “Well. I’m not sure I’d know. But that’s…irrelevant. Let’s start our own custom. What can we have on Serenity as an after sex meal?’ Kaylee brushed his lips with hers and said throatily, “Protein mush and fiber bars.”
Simon hummed and pulled her close again. “Sounds delightful. Let’s earn it.”
5) Suitable, but gross; Fringe
“Sure, we studied transgenics, but that was for agricultural purposes, not for reanimating dead humans.” Peter looked bleakly at the body on the lab table. “I mean, it would be a longshot at best, and it’s not like we have time for months of DNA sequencing. Cedric here,”—indicating the corpse—“isn’t going to last much longer.”
“Peter!” Walter scolded. “You must broaden your thinking. As I did when I had Gene brought here. Astrid, let us proceed.” Astrid looked dubiously at the equipment spread out on a table near the lab’s cow, placidly standing in her makeshift pen. “Um, Walter, I understand the procedure, but I don’t understand why…”
Walter gestured broadly. “In 2011, Chinese scientists generated dairy cows engineered with genes of human beings to produce milk that would be the same as human breast milk. Gene is a descendant of that line. Therefore, her milk carries specific genes…well, this is beginning to sound repetitive. All we need is a few moments of the victim’s brain activity to discern the retinal images of his last observation before death. The cells we will abstract from Gene’s udder lining will provide the perfect medium for temporarily re-connecting the neural pathways of our friend here. It will be perfectly suitable.”
Peter looked sardonic, but grudgingly impressed. “Suitable, but gross,” he acknowledged with a crooked grin. “Then again, re-animation always is.”
