If you said that i wasnt working on my yuletide fic, you'd be right!
So, instead, have some bits of stuff i might one day finish!
Something about Link marching:
Link Larkin didnt spend too much time thinking about things like integration.
Why should he? It didn't really effect him.
Sure, it would be cool if the kids from Negro Day could join them on the show, but they couldn't, and that was that.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Link figured it would probably happen sooner or later. But he couldn't do anything to bring it around any faster. So, he danced and sang, and greeted kids as they called his name, and enjoyed being famous.
And then she showed up.
She caught his attention all right, real quick too. She shook it like she owned it, and she wasn't at all shy about shaking it for him in front of the entire school at the Hop.
Something that is entirely too complicated to explain in one line, but involved Jayne and some chains and some girls and stuff:
Jayne came to slowly, his arms stretched painfully out and down. He tried pulling against his bonds, but couldn't budge them.
He chuckled, the sound painful through a broken nose. "So, this is it, then?"
"Suppose so." Mal lounged against a bulkhead, a fake smile plastered onto his face. "You wanna tell me exactly what you thought you were up to?"
Jayne wheezed, trying to turn his head enough to wipe his face on his tshirt. "Hell, Mal, it wasn't nothing personal-like. Was just making some money."
"You tried to sell us all." The captain sounded pissed. His body language was relaxed, but there was tenseness lurking behind his eyes, as if he was looking for an excuse to put Jayne down that very second.
"Did not." Jayne coughed and grinned. "Ain't like Wash couldn't outfly those hun dans any day of the week."
Mal was suddenly there, his hand a vice around Jayne's neck. "You tried," he said conversationally, "to sell all of us to the Feds."
Jayne shrugged, looking anything but repentent.
Mal's eyes flashed, and he leaned his full strength into choking the life out of the mercenary.
"Don't..I..get..a..last...request?" Jayne squeezed out, his face reddening with the effort. Not to mention the lack of oxygen.
Something about Simon. Being all manly and heroical:
Simon sat, thoughtfully spinning a teacup on the small table in the cargo bay. He watched Zoe and Jayne watch the guards out of the corners of their eyes. Wash leaned against Zoe's chair, carefully avoiding touching her or getting in the way of her gun arm, even though her gun had been taken.
Kaylee twisted her hands in her lap, her fingers getting lost in the frills on her dress. She looked distressed.
I think he knows what end to hold. Zoe's voice had been dry, but there had been a small wrinkle of concern on her face.
Simon tapped the teacup thoughtfully. If the captain were to lose, he would most likely be severely injured, or perhaps killed, depending on the level of humiliation this man Atherton wanted to inflict on Inara.
Normally, Simon wouldn't have worried about the captain. The man was resourceful, and certainly seemed to know his way around a fight. But Kaylee looked anxious, and it took a lot for Kaylee to lose her sunny optimism. So it followed that Kaylee's anxiety was in turn creating Simon's own disquiet, which was in turn adding to the overall level of stress in the cargo bay, which was beginning to give him ulcers. River had always accused him of having a delicate disposition.
Well. He put down his teacup with a decided clink. It wasn't the manliest noise to show his determination, but it would have to do.
Why can i not write my yuletide? WHY?