TWO DAYS!

There are only two days left in the voting for the Tammys. 

You have till 6 p.m. UTC on Thursday, December 31, 2009.  After that, we won't be taking any more votes so that the awards can start this weekend.

Also, any old presenters or new presenters who want to help out with presenting the awards this time can leave me a message here about who you want to present with and for what section.  I'll also need emails of where I can send the list of winners to.  Thanks!  :)

[comments will be screened]

In my family, all meals are memorable when we gather to dine. For one reason or another. But this is not what you wish to hear, sì? Sì.

Perhaps, then, the most memorable meal was the one where I poisoned my sister-in-law, Sylvania. Do not mistake me, it was not so much memorable because I poisoned her, but because of all the small lessons I learnt from the deed.

I could not poison her food directly, as by then the sow knew fully my loathing of her and would not trust to eat any dish that I set before her... In fact, that evening, I was so disgusted by her mistrust of me that I took her plate and ate from it, as well as drinking from her cup. Which was perfectly safe as it was her cutlery that I had coated with my poison. Sadly, the efficacy was reduced by evaporation and exposure to the air, and she did not die quickly at table as I had planned.

She did eventually die... painfully... later in the night, but I had learnt my first, perhaps most important, lesson. Poison is best served fresh.


Isabel Giovanni // World of Darkness // 193 words

It was that stupid jingle.

Evil is alive, evil is well.

Not an advertising jingle but a segment of a song used to advertise the tv programme, so it was almost as good. Or almost as bad. It resonated through his brain like an itch just under the skull. It pulled at the edges of his attention so nothing was ever quite what it should be, fraying at his mind.

Evil is alive, evil is well

Bloody damned song. It wasn't good, it was a bad omen of something to come. He just knew it. Of all the songs to have stuck in his head it was that one, and he didn't like the sound of it.

Who the hell came up with a song like that, anyway?

Evil is alive, evil is well

He was so tired of it, and getting tired because of it. The sense of foreboding was wearing on him. If something was going to break and this was a damned omen, then let it come and be damned. He was tired of waiting.

Maybe has a pitchfork, maybe has a tail
Evil is alive and well

The Sorcerer // Original Character // 195 words // Song

Guy, of course, had no idea what to get her for Christmas, so he gave her a credit card with a gruff request to get herself something nice. Not only was it more money than she had at her personal disposal before it was... odd. Was she expected to get him something similar? Likely not, he didn't seem that sort of man. What did one get oneself like this? Given carte blanche to treat herself, what should she do?

Go shopping?

She had no idea what to shop for, so she dragged Petya with her the first time. That turned out to be a disaster so she dragged Jess and Amelie with her the second time. That was much more successful.

Irina did manage to get away without spending all of it. And with a few good bargains as well; her upbringing nagged at her when they suggested blowing the whole thing, so she stopped.

But she did go home with several new pairs of pants, a couple of new blouses, and the most beautiful pair of earrings she had ever owned.

Which wasn't hard, since she had only ever owned two pairs of earrings. One pair of pearls that her mother had given her at her majority, and a pair of plain gold studs she had picked up so that she wouldn't be too showy in the restaurant. Now she had a pair of dangling silver bangles that glistened and jingled and swept over her shoulders when she shook her head.

Guy took one look at her and shook his head, bemused, muttering something about women and their fancies.

Irina didn't care. It was a near-perfect Christmas.

Irina Petrova // Original Character // 278 words

Random thought...wouldn't it be cool if Stephen Colbert had a role in the next  "Star Trek" movie as a Vulcan? He can do that eyebrow thing that Spock does AND he does know J.J. Abrams.

Just a fantasy to ponder while the show is on hiatus. Any other suggestions what project Stephen should do outside the "Report?"

You know, it was your typical night of slaying duties for me. Walking around a cemetery, looking for vamps or demons to get, yada-yada. And then? It turned into a nightmare. Not because I was trying to save some lame-o guy roped up or because I ran into some demons plus a bonus vamp or even because it was all part of some bizarre human ritual. Nope. The reason it became a nightmare?

I started to sing.

Not like singing in the shower, either. No, full-on singing, music coming from out of nowhere, all my doubts, feelings, and insecurities out in the open for everyone to hear. Hopefully on-key, but I'm not sure if that actually ever occurred.

Me. Singing. While fighting.

What was worse was the next day when I went to the Magic Box, opened the door to hear the little bell jingling, and learned that everyone else had done the same thing the night before, too. No, maybe worse was when I actually heard everyone else singing, about strange things. Bunnies. Mustard stains. Spike being in love with me.

That last one was the weirdest one of all. Not because the whole "I want you but you don't want me because the Scoobies will totally wig out" part of it, because he was right about that. No, it was just the singing that did it for me. Seriously, the music was sort of cool, all rocky. Possible Billy Idol-like in some bizarre way, too, but maybe that was how the spell worked somehow.

Anyhoo, it all ended up that Xander had summoned this singing and dancing red demon to town, and it got everyone to sing about everything. So all the secrets? Out in the open, like me trying to be the good soldier and fight even though all I could remember was how perfect it had been when I'd died.

It probably wasn't the best time to tell anyone, but it was a spell! Whatever. It ended up okay, I guess. Demon-guy didn't marry Dawnie, he left town, there was some huge musical finale number, and everyone was okay. I think.

Well, there was still the whole me-and-Spike singing and making out in the alleyway of the Bronze bit, but that's a whole other story...

Muse: Buffy Summers
Fandom: BtVS
Word Count: 379
Please comment HERE

"Oh, there it is again," Emma groused to herself as the commercial with, in her mind, the most annoying jingle ever came on the television set. She slumped into the couch as the naked baby crawled on the carpet towards disposable diapers while a teddy bear sang in the background, then rolled her eyes as the "happy mother" found her unclothed child and patted his rear.

Hank said nothing to her, but she could have sworn he raised one of his catlike blue eyebrows at her.

{No, he doesn't know yet. Yes, I'm planning on telling him,} she mentally sent to Hank while she sat straighter, adjusting her clothing a bit before throwing a look towards her friend. Again, not a word from Hank, which only served to annoy her further.

{You want me to tell Scott about the baby right now.}

Nothing.

{And how your tests have shown that the child is both his and a creation of the Phoenix.}

Nothing. Nothing except for yet another commercial with a song more horrid than "It's a Small World" and a smiling baby spitting out food. Emma reached for the remote and shut off the television, but not before noticing that Hank had set the channel to Lifetime. "Damn you," she whispered as she stormed out of the living area towards Scott's office, swearing that there was a smile on Hank's face as she did so.

( The truth revealed... )

Words have weight.

"I'm pregnant."

Muse: Emma Frost
Fandom: X-Men
Word Count: 648
OOC Note: This prompt reply is based off RP, not comic-canon. Any muses used were ones that are not in TM presently except for Scott (stoic_slim).
Please comment HERE

40 days. Just 40 more days and then my body is completely my own again.

Jingle


Gwen's eyes popped open when she heard the sound in the still of the night. Was that …? She sat up in bed listening intently but there was nothing just the usual creaking of her home settling. Gwen flopped back on the mattress and stared up at the ceiling. There was no way that she was going back to sleep.

Then it happened. Gwen heard the jingling again and she flung back the covers and ran to the window. The drapes were heavy and she struggled with them for a little bit until she finally got them parted and looked upward. Nothing. She paused, still as a statue, to listen but there were no hoof or footsteps. Maybe it wasn't Santa but who else would have bells?

Just in case it was magic like how he fit down chimneys, could deliver all the packages and knows when your naughty or nice, Gwen decided to check downstairs. She didn't even bother with a robe but silently crept to the landing and peeked down between the posts on the stairs. Nothing. Should she dare to go down the stairs and risk getting caught by either Santa or her parents? Gwen was debating it when she heard another noise. This time it came from her grandparents' room and she bolted back to her bed. She wasn't about to risk being put on Santa's naughty list on Christmas Eve.

Once Gwen had reached the safety of her room, she drew the covers over her head and squeezed her eyes shut tight as she feigned sleep. Not even the return of the faint jingle bell sound could get her to open her eyes. She wanted that Cabbage Patch Doll!



Muse: Gwen Raiden
Fandom: Angel the Series
Word Count: 284
Comment: Here

You know its Christmas season as soon as you hear the bells jingling and the radio playing your favorite holiday songs. And to most people, Christmas begins at the end of Halloween and skips right past Thanksgiving. By the time it's finally December, you're so sick of all that seasonal music that you wish you were deaf. And maybe you've tried putting a bullet between your eyes just to silence that awful jingling sound that constantly announces your arrival into every public building and then follows you home and haunts you.

“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way." All the way into madness.

And let’s not forget that Santa Claus himself supposedly has bells attached to that belt of his. If he did exist and the portly man magically made his way into your house, don't you think you'd be able to hear his arrival? The flying Reindeer landing on the roof should be enough to startle someone awake thinking they were under attack.

And who thought that the invention of Santa Claus would be a great idea anyway? This guy sounds more like a stalker than a holiday figure if you ask me. I mean he watches you all the time; when you're awake and when you’re asleep! How the hell does he do that? Only by magic cause logic need not apply here! Then he somehow makes it inside your house (the chimney is his favorite entrance, despite the man weighs well over 500 lbs), eats your food, and leaves you presents under the tree.

Dude should be arrested for that shit.

MUSE: Kieran
FANDOM: OC (no associated fandom)
WORD COUNT: 273
REPLY HERE

DRABBLE MEME

Time here,
all but means nothing,
just shadows that move across the wall.
They keep me company,
but they don't ask of me,
they don't say nothing at all.

Leave me be, I don't want to argue.
I'd just get confused and I'd come all undone.
If I agree, well, it's just to appease you,
'Cause I don't remember what we're fighting for. "Time" by Sarah Mclachlan

It was one thing for them to argue over bits of trivia or what the year happened to be whenever they arrived some where by chance. If anything, the very basis of their relationship that was difficult to categorize happened to be supported by this. The small matters they would debate over to keep one another on their toes because there would be no one else around to keep them in their place.

But there were the rare occasions though where the arguments were not founded on mere instances that were the battle of egos or challenges in knowledge.

"You have no right to do this! You just can't do this!"

"I can and I will, Doctor! No matter how you look at it, it has to be done!"

"Oh it's all about you, isn't it? Proper little Romana having to be the center of attention."

"Oh, no, no, that's your area of expertise! Your need for attention and desire to be the hero is that of a child! A simple little boy who can't seem to grow up! Someone always has to be around to clean up your messes!"

"I don't remember ever asking you to!"

"No, because you are far to arrogant to ever climb down from that blasted high horse of yours!"

"And you're just making a big scene from all this! Now you will listen to me and be quiet!"

"I will not! I won't let you do this, Doctor. I just cannot allow it!"

"That's an order!"

"I have told you time and time again no more orders! What's done is done and nothing you can say will change my mind."

The cold feeling of metal of the Judoon's weapon jabbed her back but she merely smiled at the Doctor.

"I am here to take responsibility for my actions."

Her hands found their place, resting upon his cheeks, head leaning forward until it touched with his. It was enough to silence him. But while her hands were still his trembled when they grabbed her wrists.

There was a forced smile on his lips. So forced it seemed almost painful. "Being a pompous little Miss Know-It-All when first met isn't a crime. ... well, it should be a crime when it comes to putting holes in another person's TARDIS but stil-"

"It was I who sent you out to end it all. Had I not given you the order then it would not have happened," she said softly. "In exchange for my trail and eventual execution you will be free."

"Not this, please. We can run, you and I. I'm not going to lose you again."

The disgruntled sound of the Judoon behind them could have been a timer. The longer the Time Lords resisted the shorter it's already limited patient was stretched. A few minutes had been granted before they would depart and time was running out. Her hands moved to embrace him completely, an action that was instantly returned.

"We'll find each other again. Perhaps in another life, but we will just the same," Romana whispered. "Not even different universes can keep us from finding one another."

There was a small jerk of his body as he couldn't help but laugh, even it was short-lived. "That sounds like one your bloody damned romance novels you would always read."

"So you admit to actually reading them now?"

"I never said that. You know I never read that load of nonsense--"

"The prisoner will come with us immediately."

Again the cold metal dug into her backside and the Doctor's embrace only tightened. After what felt likedecades instead of seconds she withdrew from his arms only to be pulled back into them just long enough to hear him whisper in her ear, "I'll save you, somehow. Just wait for me."

Then the unwelcoming hands of the Judoon grabbed her forcefully by her arms and roughly pulled her from him. There was no chance for her to say anything to him, only to watch his face be the last thing she witnessed before she was forced around and shoved forward towards the ship.

There was a small twitch of her lips though as the cuffs found her wrists at the same moment the doors were sealed behind them.

"He's far too stubborn for his own good."

Character: Romanadvoratrelundar II
Canon: Doctor Who
Word Count: 717

He hears the sound of bells - many little bells. They don't sound like the big cathedral bells he has heard a few times in New York. As he watches, a horse, his harness covered with small bells, trots by, pulling a cab full of laughing tourists snuggling under blankets. However, even after they've turned the corner, Hiro can still hear small bells. A Salvation Army Santa rings his bell, calling to the people to help the poor. A woman wears a hat with a bell that bobs up and down as she strides down the sidewalk. Even music filtering from the stores ring.

Hiro doesn't know why he's in New York, except that maybe he wants to see how Americans celebrate Christmas. In Tokyo it's about gifts and lights and Santa hats and it doesn't look so different here. People scurry around, desperately trying to finish their shopping or triumphantly taking the last of their gifts home. The windows of stores are brightly decorated with lights and Christmas displays, trying to entice the consumers.

And over all of the cars and people, he can still hear the cheerful jingling of bells. It's such a joyous sound that he can't help but watch the chaos around him with a smile on his face.

Muse: Hiro Nakamura
Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 208

Old and new – it’s all a matter of perspective, just a matter of in which moment you stand in time and stare out at the world around you. Everything is new when you’re a child – and everyone around you is old. Then you grow up and you realise that everything has been done before and you’re all just here for a moment, infants in comparison to the world you’re borrowing for the little time you’re here.

He’s eight years old – the world is still new and the people in it still seem insufferably old. Bruce Wayne, age eight, knows about old – he lives in one of the oldest cities in the country and he lives in one of the oldest houses in that city. Wayne Manor stands as testimony to the people who have lived in it before him, they grace the walls with their stern faces, their history is embedded in every room, their stories attached to each piece of furniture.

Bruce imagines that at night when the contemporary of the Wayne’s have fallen asleep that these ancestors emerge from their gilded prisons and dine on the china they once ate from and drink from the crystal that had been a wedding present however many generations ago. At night when the new Wayne’s sleep the old Wayne’s dance in the ballroom and Bruce imagines he can hear their laughter through the walls. It scares him sometimes and his mother laughs.

“Old houses make noises, Bruce.” She tells him. “It’s nothing to be frightened of. They’re just telling you a story, that’s why the floors creak and the windows shake, they’re trying to tell you about everything they’ve seen before, they’re trying to make you listen.”
( Read more... )


Bruce Wayne
Batman
Word Count: 1340

It occurs to him after the woman- a tanner’s daughter, or perhaps the butcher’s wife- pushed the bit of bread into his hands that it is the first time he’s eaten since they began to clear out the Lower towns. When the jug of water passes; it tastes from the iron it’s served from and he realizes they do not recognize him. A man across from him is telling dirty jokes; looking at him curiously because he does not laugh.

Uther has a private smile as he tears into the food. He wonders if his appearance has altered much without crown and mantle. There is still a sword at his side but the people can dismiss it quickly. They are concerned with his hands and back- both of which do the work that’s needed easily enough. It makes the people content to ignore him, and he’s grateful for it. He doubts he’d have the patience for their questions anyhow.

( spoilers for Merlin 2x12, and 2x13 )

Uther Pendragon
Merlin
555

I've seen so many different types of weather. From pouring rain that could soak you in seconds, to heat so hot you feel as if your flesh is melting right off the bone. There are specific moments though that I can remember exactly how the weather was.

The day I married Teri. There was a nice breeze, on a perfect sunny day. She looked so beautiful, brighter the sun shining down on us through the windows. The smile on her face when I lifted the veil brightened my life. When she died it was dark, but people I met brought light back to it bit by bit.

The moment I found out I was going to be a father. I was away as usual, and got the call. There was a light rain outside, I could hear it tapping on the roof. Watched it drip down over the awning in front of the small window. I remember feeling like through all the rain it was sunny right where I stood.


The day Kim was born, it was so sunny. I rushed to get to the hospital, I was all sweaty because I literally ran. I got there too late to see her birth but there she was in my wife's arms. So tiny and perfect and I swear it got brighter that day, that first moment I fell in love with that little girl.

Jack Bauer
24
234 Words

There isn't much to say, then again I am a man of a few words. Name's Jack Bauer, and I work for CTU. For those who don't know what CTU means, Counter Terrorist Unit, we fight the really bad guys. I'll talk, sometimes, we'll see how things go.

ooc I bring you The Bauer from 24. He's current all through season 7, and will follow right along with season 8. For now him walking around has been all AU, we'll see what happens in season 8 canon and what I end up changing as it does start soon. He's open to interaction, and I'm nice and talk to everyone even if the muse is moody a lot.

Sorted by verse and such.

( Michael verses )

( Sam verses )

( Dean Verses )

The patient that Nicolas Kokoris was currently performing surgery on was his fifth in 18 hours, and from the conversations that were drifting into the room as other doctors finished the possibility existed that he might not be his last. Passing off the scalpel he held in his hand, the Greek stepped back from the table to allow himself room to first roll his shoulders, and then stretch in an attempt to loosen up his tightening muscles.

"Are you feeling all right Dr. Nic?" The Congolese nurse voiced her concern as she rinsed the tool off, then laid it on the tray for him to use again. While only in her mid 30's, Abebe had been working in the hospital for over ten years, and most if not all of the doctors and other nurses accepted her mothering of them as a natural extension of who she was.

"I'm fine Mama Abebe, I just needed a little breather." Nic's use of the familiar address brought a smile to the woman's face.

"You work too long, you stop after this one, yes?" The nurse checked the cleaned instruments a final time as the surgeon moved back to the table.

"I can't promise that, there are more patients, anything could happen." Nic took a moment to study his re-familiarize himself with what he'd already done before saying anything more, "Scalpel, and have some gauze ready, I'm going to try and go for the stray metal now, and let's hope we don't get any fresh bleeds." As his concentration narrowed to the work at hand, Abebe let the subject drop, though both knew the discussion was not finished. It was in fact a reoccurring one between them, and the nurse knew she would need to call on her back-up if she were to win. When she was sure that Kokoris was fully absorbed with his work, and a need for more gauze grew apparent, Abebe saw her opportunity to slip out for a few minutes.

"Doctor, I need to go for more supplies, I will be only a few minutes." While her words brought nothing more then a slight nod of acknowledgment, it was enough for her, and as she slipped out of the room, she set her sights on locating Dr. Falconiri

Nicolas Kokoris and Joanna Falconiri had been at the Médecins Sans Frontieres-run hospital in Rutshuru town in the North Kivu area of the Congo for going on two months. Where unlike those in some hospitals and clinics the threat of the fighting between Congolese troops and Rwandan rebels wasn't a constant threat, the two still were kept busy enough, and surgeries of upwards to fifteen a day were not unusual. Neither were novices to the work they were doing, but, in the last two months, their working situation had changed and it was that arrangement which Abebe was hoping to use to her advantage now.

It took the resourceful nurse only moments to locate the Italian surgeon in one of the wards, and once she had briefed her on both her concerns and what she hoped the woman would assist her with, she gathered the need supplies and returned to the surgery. From first glance things didn't look good, bloodied gauze and other debris littered the floor under the operating staff's feet, and while mask's covered the majority of their faces, from what Abebe could see from their eyes, they were not hopeful for their patient's outcome. As Kokoris muttered something in Greek half under his breath, then shook his head, the nurse quickly washed and gloved her hands and re-entered the field.

"I can't get a handle on these bleeders, every time I get one stopped a fresh one opens up." Nic cussed again as he lost his hold on the vein he was trying to suture.

"Maybe I'll have better luck." Under her mask, Joanna Falconiri smiled as she heard his curse.

"That's not going to help, by the way, sleep however will. Time for you to step out and get some."

"I'm in the middle of surgery if you can't tell." Kokoris' eyes moved between the two women sensing the conspiracy at hand before he returned them to his patient.

"Nic," Joanna moved up behind him before lowering her voice. "No one doubts your abilities or your loyalty to your patient, but you know, and I know that after so long on your feet your work can suffer. Are you ready to accept the consequences if you lose this boy because you were too tired to see everything you should have?" Maybe it was the tone of her voice, maybe it was common sense finally kicking in, whatever the reason, the Greek surgeon reluctantly nodded and as he did he stepped aside to allow Joanna to take over the work he had begun. As he moved out of the field completely he could help but catch the look that Abebe passed his way and after sliding his mask off his face he passed her a weary smile.

"You win, sleep, I know." Unfortunately, as he exited the room, he knew tired as he was, he wasn't quite ready for it. In fact, he had other plans, and with Joanna occupied, now was the perfect time to set those in motion.

In the end, Nicolas Kokoris had slept, in fact he was still sleeping when an exhausted Joanna Falconiri pushed the flap aside to enter the tent that the two surgeon's shared.

"Oh, Nic, what have you done?" The woman's hand went to her mouth as she stared in disbelief at the transformation that the small canvas tent had undergone in her absence. In the corner stood an IV stand, wired with hangers meant to act as branches, from which were suspended an assortment of medical instruments, and a garland of gauze. To complete the illusion of his makeshift Christmas tree, a paper star was taped to it's top, and finally, underneath sat two packages wrapped in newspaper with still more gauze used for bows. Leaving the doorway she approached the occupied cot and knelt beside it.

"Time to wake up, Il mio campione." While she knew that Nic needed his sleep, she found herself unable to keep from acknowledging his efforts, so, while trailing her fingers across his brow, she repeated the words quietly until he began to stir. As his eyes finally opened she found herself smiling.

"Hey, been busy have you?"

"Sleepin'." The Greek's words were slightly slurred as he lingered in half-sleep.

"I meant that thing in the corner, I'm pretty sure it wasn't there when I left." Joanna pointed to the IV stand.

"Your Christmas Tree?" As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes with one hand, he propped himself up on his other arm.

"That is not a Christmas Tree."

"Sure it is, well, maybe you have to use your imagination a little but, it's hard to find fir trees in the Congo. Look again." As he spoke, Nic reached across the bed and grabbed something off of it before returning to his previous position and holding his arm over her head.

"Does this help?" As he opened his hand he revealed a small branch with what looked like broken, red tinted q-tips tied to it. "Now you have to kiss me."

"Now I know you've been working too hard. That is not Mistletoe. Eew, do I even want to know how you made those red." While she was able to snatch the branch from his hold, she didn't resist his kiss, and after tossing it aside she leaned in to give him another.

"Thank you."

"For what?" Nic smiled and coaxed her to lie beside him before folding his arms around her.

"For doing this, despite the creepiness of some parts." She shot another glance to the discarded branch.

"You're welcome, I think. So, are you too tired to share a little Christmas cheer?" A stolen kiss left no doubt that alcohol would not be necessary to proceed.

"Christmas cheer hmm?" Joanna returned his kiss before settling comfortably against him. "I think that sounds like a wonderful idea."

Muse: Nicolas Kokoris
Fandom: Presidio Med
Words: 1159

A special thanks to Christina for the loan of her muse medico_bella in this Christmas Story I gift to her. I hope you like it.

Il mio campione translates to: My champion

Larry would like to wish everyone Happy Holidays! Happy Chanukkah, Merry Christmas, etc. I wanted to post video of him singing "River" on Ally McBeal, but I couldn't find it. Instead, you get a fanvideo of it. As well as of him singing "White Christmas" with Vonda Sheppard. "River" by Joni Mitchell is actually a video of Larry and Sam, because when he sang the song on the show, he was thinking about his son. Back when Larry used to be a grinch about the holiday. (Meanwhile, grownup Sam is facepalming that I had to post video of little!him)

( back here )

Now I will let Larry get back to spending the holiday with the people he loves most. He's playing carols for them on the piano :)

The topic for the week of 25 - 31 December 2009 is:

Jingle.

1. Put current season TV spoilers behind a cut.
2. Your post must be a minimum of 150 words to count towards your community membership.
3. Put posts longer than 450 words behind a cut.
4. Put the topic number and/or text in the subject header of your post.
5. Sign your post with your muse's full name and fandom.

Reminder: To remain current, you must have answered at least one of Topics #312, 313, 314 and 315 by December 31st.