insertmeathere | Drabble Meme

Sasami looked utterly embarrassed. There she stood in probably the pinkest, frilliest, girly dress in existence. Her hair hung loose, some of it draped over her shoulders. The look in her eyes and the light blush on her cheeks suggested she felt uncomfortable in this sort of thing.

To the person looking her over, it was probably something missing.

"Hmm... needs more desu." Reinforce Zwei said, musing.

"Desu?" Sasami said, cocking her head to the side. The look on Rein's face now said the girl was perfect!

Arha did not like the sea, but her oct-o-pooze did. It was also not her fault at all that she was under the sea in the Sensoriums, calling upon all her will to not panic. Look! There were little pretty flowers and a curved rock formation and a very large coiled oct-o-pooze.

She hoped it was a dream.

It could be a dream, right? If Bene Gesserits partook of such things that made them hallucinate without any control. She sat on the sandy bottom and glared down at her oct-o-pooze gauntlet. There would be words, later.

Many words.

It seemed that pirates in any universe were always causing trouble for her.

Samus grumbled as she exchanged one tool for another, wiping her brow and somehow making that grease stain on her forehead entirely worse. This little detour would set her back who-know-how-long, and it wasn't even her fault.

If he had just been able to keep his mitts off of everything in her ship, she'd have been done with this mission by now. But no, he had to try piloting such a "fine craft." To add insult to injury, he had the audacity to be standing over her telling her to 'lighten up.'

She scowled at him, snatched the bottle from his hands, took a swig, and then went back to work.

Inconvenient size-change

She was surprised she'd found occasion to wear her floofy dress again.

"Variables suck," Wyn mutters, glaring at the circle of blue chalk drawn around her. A much-annotated book sits in front of her, and at this point she's seriously tempted to throw it at something. "I am in the applied sciences. There is no reason for anything to be this complicated except for sheer bloody-mindedness on the part of the Victorians."

Half an hour later, Wyn is ready to give up on the spell entirely. "If you've run out of alphabet before you've run out of parameters, you're doing it wrong." The circle is half-full of scrawling lines, Wyn's face is covered in smudges of blue chalk, and she looks ready to murder someone.

"Fuck this, I'm going back to Gaelic."

Uhura was four the first time she went to Vulcan. There were a few hundred words she could correctly say in the most modern form of the language and many more that she knew were wrong. Getting separated from her parents, the wind in her eyes, with her fists planted at her hips, Nyota scoured the lading pad for familiar faces.

There were many, many Vulcans and more than a few Humans, and aliens, and just people.

She scowled and marched up to the nearest uniformed Vulcan.

"I am missing two tall people that are related to me," she said in her most officious voice. Her Vulcan was not as good as she wanted it to be, but the Vulcan's eyebrows arched and he carefully squatted.

"How tall? And to what relation are they?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.

Uhura's eyebrows furrowed as she blinked up at him and she thought very hard. She thought so hard her face screwed up and her scowl darkened further.

"Taller than me!" Uhura proclaimed, but couldn't remember the right words for 'mother' and 'father'. "They are the people that grew me."

The Vulcan thought for a good long while and held out his hand. She took it without reservation.

"Come," he said in Federation Standard, "we will find your parents."

"Nu-uh," Uhura said, her face serious. "Say it right."

The Vulcan blinked and then sighed.

"Come, we will find your parents," he said, in Vulcan, and looked baffled when she burst into a very large grin.

He was not an elf.

Indiana had heard of palaces of made gold. He'd heard of streets lined with jewels. He'd read of mystical places that had untold treasures. But never had he ever heard of a city made of Emerald.

He chalked up its existence to plain old unoriginality.

Part one of---I'll see how many I can write.
---
For some time now, sunny days in Angel Grove had come to spell trouble for Billy. On these days, his friends and fellow Rangers would engage in an outdoor sporting event. He would be required to run, throw, and jump chaotically. Perhaps this qualified as an informal method of training for his Ranger duties, but it was always difficult to feel welcome in a competition when you were the weakest link, the one who would be chosen last in a PE setting.

Previously, he'd managed to find an out for himself: there were five Rangers, and equal teams meant that there would be two to a team with one sitting on the sidelines. He volunteered for that position whenever possible, but Jason and Trini always managed to catch his bluff. Now, though, that excuse no longer worked: with the recent addition of Tommy the Green Ranger to their crime-fighting team, there were now six.

A fact he was suddenly reminded of when a stray finger poked him in the ribs. "Hey, man, don't zone out on us now! We might need your brain to catch them off guard later," said Tommy cheerfully.

Startled out of his thoughts, the Blue Ranger regarded the newest addition to the team with a wan smile. "I highly doubt any strategy I might cobble together will be more effective than your 'stylin' moves'," he countered dryly. That earned Billy another nudge in the ribs and a meaningful look from Tommy.

"You're finally learning!" chimed Zack, slinging a slick arm around Trini as he tossed a tennis ball at an unsuspecting Jason's head. Their leader ducked the sudden round and green assault with a playful growl, moving to pounce on Zack. Poor Kimberly was left to ball-chasing duty. Hmph, thought the warrior in pink.

The six teens walked in their carefree way until a soft voice stopped them. "Guys? I think we've missed the court," noted Kimberly, who was not at all surprised by this development.

Trini quickly moved to steer them back in the right direction. "It's this way---Jason, what are you doing?" With that, Jason dis-entangled from his attempts to thump Zack and Tommy simultaneously.

"Right---of course. Lead the way, Trini." Properly humbled, the Red Ranger watched in silence as Billy moved to Trini's side, sharing a laugh with her as they successfully led the way to the tennis court.

---

Soon enough, they were in the midst of a chaotic three on three tennis game: Tommy, Trini, and Zack on Jason, Kimberly, and Billy. The game was fierce and fun, and surprisingly well matched---any clumsiness on Billy's part was counter-balanced by the expert racket-swinging of Jason. And the Blue Ranger wasn't exactly dead weight on a team anymore, even if he couldn't see that himself. With Putties and monsters underfoot, there were worse things to hit you than a green tennis ball.

Finally, the game ended with a score of six points for Tommy's team to Jason's five. Handshakes were exchanged all around, with some patting on the part of the girls, but this end-game excercise was interrupted by a startling sound: a hauntingly familiar cackle, though it lacked the malice of before. Tommy's laugh.

"Ah! Don't scare me like that, Tommy!" yelped Kimberly, swatting his arm in mock offense. Trini nodded, standing loyally beside her friend.

"Oh, you think your glorious victory's amusing now? Just wait 'til we knock you down a peg," laughed Jason, far less dramatically than Tommy.

Tommy responded with an even louder cackle, deliberately enhanced for maximum volume and carry. "I'd like to see you try!"

Billy responded to this display by planting his face in his palm, shaking his head. Poor Tommy was under the delusion that anyone was regarding him as a serious threat.

"We're in for an interesting showdown," whispered Trini in his ear---wait, when did she get there? Raising his head to smile at her, he followed her gaze. There was Zack, grabbing a tennis ball. He must have an idea.

"If Jase won't, I will! Look out, ladies and gentlemen of the courts, the Zack-Man's arrived and ready to jive!"

"I thought Zack created enough of a spectacle out of us, but Tommy is quickly emerging as a capable challenger," admitted Billy to Trini. Ah, such was the rhythm of teen life in Angel Grove.

The digital readout on the hover-cycles touch screen console continued to reflect the increase in speed. Eight-year-old Spock concentrated on maintaining control of the machine as the sand and rocks sped by in a blur. The wind was whipping his hair around, and the protective set of extra eyelids that he shared with all Vulcans were working overtime to keep the dust from damaging his sensitive eyes.

If he survived this outing, there was a 99.87% probability that his father would restrict his access to computer programs for at least one month.

"I-- I-- what?" Hunter asks, giving his roommate a look of utter shock. "I need to find you some antipsychotics. I need to find you some antipsychotics right now."

"You'll never get over your fear of public speaking if you don't actually speak in public!" Ryan says brightly, beaming at Hunter as if he'd had the best idea in the world. Dom looks amused, but says nothing.

"But why do I have to do it?"

"It builds moral character. Come on." Ryan says, his tone brooking no argument.

"... I already have moral character." Hunter protests weakly, but Ryan is already towing him towards the microphone.

Overhearing...interesting noises on the Codec

"I believe we have forgotten a vital element in this equation."

OR

Late night studies.

OR

Chocolate (how did that happen?!), dinner, hillside.

What did time truly mean anymore?

As far as he knew, it'd been several conscious months since he'd seen his world alive. Stacy could have kept them in biostasis far longer. No measurement could accurately withstand all of these distortions.

So perhaps another unit of measurement was needed. He'd quickly ruled out growth, length, or on-ship incidents as measures, though trouble was as reliable as (normal) clockwork. He needed something meaningful.

A process of deliberation ruled out work. The final choice was surprisingly simple: he'd measure his accomplishment by his ever-growing experiences with friends. Their contributions were priceless.

"Commander, can I ask you to take a look at my assignment again?"

Spock glanced up from his data padd, noted the student's name and quickly pulled up his most recent assignment. Ah, yes.

"I see that you received a failing grade, due to shoddy sentence structure, uneven spelling, and a clear failure to grasp fundamental concepts of precision and rationality. You would do well to find a tutor to aid you, if you do not wish to fail this course."

The young man looked like he'd just been slapped. "Someone has a case of the Mondays."

Later, when he told his new aide what had happened, she laughed a little and tossed her long, glossy hair over her shoulder. "Yeah, someone had a case of the Mondays, all right. It wasn't you, though."

Human phraseology continued to elude Spock.

Mirror, what do you see?

Let's give it a try.

Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket

One word prompt.

"Hawt."

"Passion is no excuse."

this I believe

Ok, hit me.

:|

Drabble Meme

Re: Sasami Masaki Jurai

Re: Arha Masaari

Re: SAMUS ARAN

Re: Desu Machine er I mean Rein!

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First times

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1: Advantage: Green

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Re: Hunter Blackthorne

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Re: Spock

100 words, yay!

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I think I am going to hell.

Re: Spike

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