Multiple requests
Dec. 31st, 2007 01:08 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bohemiaTitle: Always On My Mind
Pairing: Jim/Pam (Jam/PB&J)
Rating: PG
Summary: Three short drabbles
Fandom: The Office
Word count: 324
Notes: A request is probably not the best time to try different writing styles. But I wanted to try out those "# times that..." styles, and it seemed to fit perfectly with Jam.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rateth, if you disagree I can always make you another fic. Sorry D:
Pam Beesly has always had a close relationship with her mother. It only became closer as she grew up. They talk on the phone quite a lot, especially when Pam is going through some frustrating times. When Pam met Jim Halpert after getting hired at Dundler-Mifflin, the calls increased in number. This was only because the job didn't require much brain power, and Pam was consequently bored. It had nothing to do with Pam's conflicting feelings about Jim compared to her long time fiance.
Mrs. Beesly did not suspect any romantic feelings on the part of Pam towards Jim at all. Jim was simply the only person Mrs. Beesly had heard about at Pam's job for the first three months Pam worked at Dundler-Mifflin.
**
Pam's friendship with Jim has never gotten in the way of her other relationships, especially with Roy. Phone logs from Pam Beesly's phone have never included late-night drunk dials to her mother's house about Roy and Jim's first name having the same number of letters, but having no one letter in common and that the name "Karen" has more letters than the name "Pam". And while "Pam" also has three letters, at least it shares the letter "m" with "Jim".
Mrs. Beesly has not on occasion wondered if she was being left in the dark about the real nature of Jim and Pam's relationship.
**
The night of Jim and Karen's visit to New York City, Pam did not call her mother. This was because Pam did not care about Jim and Karen's date. She had said her part during the Beach Day.
Pam and her mother did not talk for three hours that night, and the conversation did not dance around the topic of Jim. Jim did not call Pam from a horse-drawn carriage in Central Park in the middle of that conversation.
It also did not lead to a night of insomnia for a very excited and giddy Pam.
Title: Easy Bake Christmas
Rating: PG
Summary: Shawn tries, and fails, at Christmas
Fandom: Psych
Word count: 571
Notes: This one basically expanded from that a comment thread over atvampira34's journal about Shawn's cooking skills, and loosely, loosely based on Pieces of April.
The Christmas lights hung lazily off the molding near the ceiling, and threatened to pull away from the mounds of scotch tape holding them up. A few feet below them, lounging at his desk, Shawn Spencer lay sleeping. Feet up on the desk, he'd fallen asleep in the middle of a video game level. The device lay on his stomach, still clenched between his fingers. A pineapple sat a few inches from his sleeping computer monitor, decorated like a Christmas tree. It was a quiet day. A productive day for Shawn Spencer.
Gus burst through the door loud and fast as he usually did whenever he was agitated. Shawn startled awake, and jumped to attention, as was his usual reaction.
"What? Gus, you see I'm sleeping here. Why do you have to come in and ruin my perfectly good dream with ten Victoria Secret models?"
"No, Shawn. There were no models in that dream. You were stuck in another level of that game you play all day long, and you had some dream of how you'd somehow get out of it-- using methods not available in the context of the actual game."
"Dude, what, are you psychic now?"
"No, I just hear every damn mumble you utter while I'm sitting across the room trying to do my route."
"Well, excuse me for trying to rest my body and mind for a few moments so that we can continue paying your bills."
"I pay my bills just fine without all of this here, Shawn. Anyway, here." Gus shoved a brightly wrapped gift into Shawn's chest. "Merry Christmas," he mumbled and stomped over to his desk.
Shawn looked down at the shiny paper. He was always an easily amused person, and Christmas wrapping was no exception to this rule. Shawn stared at his smeared reflection in the gold paper and made a few faces.
"I thought we said we'd exchange gifts down at the precinct with the rest of the department? I mean, thank you, but uh... Gus?"
"I have to do my route Shawn." Gus woke his laptop from its sleep and starting typing loudly. "On top of all the casework we have for that Thanksgiving murder down on Mulberry."
"Gus, I..." Shawn started. Gus's fingers stopped in mid-stroke. The super-smeller was on duty.
"What is that smell, Shawn?" Gus sniffed the air a few more times. "It smells like burnt plastic, burnt... meat? Shawn, were you cooking something in the kitchenette?"
"What? Meat? I... oh, no. Gus, our Christmas feast!" Shawn dashed into the kitchenette of the Psych offices, leaving Gus bewildered at his desk.
"Our what now?" Gus jumped up and followed after Shawn.
Sure enough, Shawn's small Easy-Bake oven was slowing folding onto itself, having melted from the heat of the large bulb Shawn had used to speed up the meal.
"That was our..." Shawn poked and prodded the mess to reveal a half-baked chicken leg among the molten plastic.
"You baked a chicken leg in an Easy Bake oven? And that was supposed to feed both of us? On Christmas?" Gus stared at the bubbling oven. Shawn's face fell.
"No, Gus," Shawn's tone was hurt. He gave a look at Gus and said, "What, are you Scrooge now? Dude, it's supposed to be all about the spirit!" Shawn hung his head in dismay and sighed. The plastic gurgled and popped over the chicken once more.
"Merry Christmas, Gus."
Title: Oopsie Claus
Rating: PG
Summary: Lassiter isn't exactly Scrooge, but he's no Tiny Tim either.
Fandom: Psych
Word count: 662
Notes: I'm not entirely happy with this one, or how it just abruptly ends, but I had to end it or else it'd keep going into a full fic.
Shawn and Gus's Psych offices usually see a lot of action. It's been two years since they opened, a fact that boggles most of the Santa Barbara police force. Not least of the baffled is Carlton Lassiter.
Lassiter is not the type of person to pray everyday-- he believes in making his own destiny. But since meeting Shawn Spencer, he's prayed everyday. Prayed that Shawn gets revealed as the poser that Lassiter knows he is. Today is no exception, especially when he finds a tinsel-covered pineapple at his desk with a green Christmas card attached to a leaf. He knows it's yet another day with that damn Spencer around.
"Goo-ood morning, detective!" comes the chipper voice of Santa Barbara's resident psychic. He's covered in red velvet with white fur. It takes Lassiter a while to recognize he's supposed to be looking at Spencer Claus. He's not amused. "Good morning, Spencer," he says in a dry, monotone. "But... isn't Santa Claus just a tad older-- and might I add plumper-- than you?"
Shawn's mouth slides into a smirk. "What? No, no. I'm Fred Claus. Gus is Santa!" Shawn motions behind himself, to where Gus is waddling awkwardly behind, stuffed into a fat suit under a traditional Santa suit. Gus glares at Shawn, giving him the usual death look. "Oh, come on, Gus! Walk faster! You can't walk that slow. You've got millions of presents to send all around the world tonight at the charity benefit."
"Shawn," Gus hisses, "I can't walk at all in this. The suit is too tight, it's cutting off my circulation!"
"Gus, don't be a Californian Grinch. It's bad enough we hardly get snow. How are you going to live with yourself if you don't appear for all those good little girls and boys tonight?"
"First of all, Shawn, I don't think the children are going to buy a black Santa as the real deal."
"Oh please," Lassiter interrupts. "Everyone finds out about those ridiculous lies way before their parents think they do. I mean, even I figured it out before I was 14."
Both Shawn and Gus stand still, mostly in shock.
"What?" Lassiter asks. The two buddies try not to stare at Lassiter too long. Since they've known him, Lassiter has hardly disappointed with putting his foot in his mouth. Shawn assumes it's part of the reason that makes Lassiter despise him so much.
"Gus, when did you--"
"I was about seven."
"Yeah."
"You told me, remember?"
"And then we checked all the closets in your house."
"I took inventory," Gus smiles.
"And then we called each other after we opened our presents."
"Yup." Shawn raises his fist to pound Gus, and Gus does the same. The suit restricts Gus, and all he can do is wave his fist in Shawn's direction.
"The point is, Mr. Spencer, Mr. Burton," says Lassiter, quite loud and rude," is that none of those children at tonight's event care about the jolly old man in the red suit. Today is just like any other day, with crime and murder. And all those children coming tonight care about is the stupid little frilly dolls and gadgets they're getting at the end of it."
Shawn raises his eyebrows and shares a look with Gus. They all know what this tiny victory means. But like always, the two partners in crime have to rub it in. They smile like little children. Lassiter scowls.
"Dude, whatever. It's Christmas. Merry Christmas, Lassy." Shawn places a peace-offering hand on Lassiter's shoulder. He shrugs it off.
"Merry Christmas, Spencer." The words hung icily in the air, like they didn't belong in Lassiter's vocabulary. "And get all this tinsel out of here, it looks like the station is a baked potato." He had to find out more about that murder case from two nights ago anyway. Lassiter turns and walks briskly away.
Shawn and Gus stay behind, mostly amused-- and in the case of Gus, uncomfortable as well.
These are all from the Psych Christmas special, but they're not all in chronological, episodic order.
Pairing: Jim/Pam (Jam/PB&J)
Rating: PG
Summary: Three short drabbles
Fandom: The Office
Word count: 324
Notes: A request is probably not the best time to try different writing styles. But I wanted to try out those "# times that..." styles, and it seemed to fit perfectly with Jam.
rateth, if you disagree I can always make you another fic. Sorry D:Pam Beesly has always had a close relationship with her mother. It only became closer as she grew up. They talk on the phone quite a lot, especially when Pam is going through some frustrating times. When Pam met Jim Halpert after getting hired at Dundler-Mifflin, the calls increased in number. This was only because the job didn't require much brain power, and Pam was consequently bored. It had nothing to do with Pam's conflicting feelings about Jim compared to her long time fiance.
Mrs. Beesly did not suspect any romantic feelings on the part of Pam towards Jim at all. Jim was simply the only person Mrs. Beesly had heard about at Pam's job for the first three months Pam worked at Dundler-Mifflin.
Pam's friendship with Jim has never gotten in the way of her other relationships, especially with Roy. Phone logs from Pam Beesly's phone have never included late-night drunk dials to her mother's house about Roy and Jim's first name having the same number of letters, but having no one letter in common and that the name "Karen" has more letters than the name "Pam". And while "Pam" also has three letters, at least it shares the letter "m" with "Jim".
Mrs. Beesly has not on occasion wondered if she was being left in the dark about the real nature of Jim and Pam's relationship.
The night of Jim and Karen's visit to New York City, Pam did not call her mother. This was because Pam did not care about Jim and Karen's date. She had said her part during the Beach Day.
Pam and her mother did not talk for three hours that night, and the conversation did not dance around the topic of Jim. Jim did not call Pam from a horse-drawn carriage in Central Park in the middle of that conversation.
It also did not lead to a night of insomnia for a very excited and giddy Pam.
Title: Easy Bake Christmas
Rating: PG
Summary: Shawn tries, and fails, at Christmas
Fandom: Psych
Word count: 571
Notes: This one basically expanded from that a comment thread over at
vampira34's journal about Shawn's cooking skills, and loosely, loosely based on Pieces of April.The Christmas lights hung lazily off the molding near the ceiling, and threatened to pull away from the mounds of scotch tape holding them up. A few feet below them, lounging at his desk, Shawn Spencer lay sleeping. Feet up on the desk, he'd fallen asleep in the middle of a video game level. The device lay on his stomach, still clenched between his fingers. A pineapple sat a few inches from his sleeping computer monitor, decorated like a Christmas tree. It was a quiet day. A productive day for Shawn Spencer.
Gus burst through the door loud and fast as he usually did whenever he was agitated. Shawn startled awake, and jumped to attention, as was his usual reaction.
"What? Gus, you see I'm sleeping here. Why do you have to come in and ruin my perfectly good dream with ten Victoria Secret models?"
"No, Shawn. There were no models in that dream. You were stuck in another level of that game you play all day long, and you had some dream of how you'd somehow get out of it-- using methods not available in the context of the actual game."
"Dude, what, are you psychic now?"
"No, I just hear every damn mumble you utter while I'm sitting across the room trying to do my route."
"Well, excuse me for trying to rest my body and mind for a few moments so that we can continue paying your bills."
"I pay my bills just fine without all of this here, Shawn. Anyway, here." Gus shoved a brightly wrapped gift into Shawn's chest. "Merry Christmas," he mumbled and stomped over to his desk.
Shawn looked down at the shiny paper. He was always an easily amused person, and Christmas wrapping was no exception to this rule. Shawn stared at his smeared reflection in the gold paper and made a few faces.
"I thought we said we'd exchange gifts down at the precinct with the rest of the department? I mean, thank you, but uh... Gus?"
"I have to do my route Shawn." Gus woke his laptop from its sleep and starting typing loudly. "On top of all the casework we have for that Thanksgiving murder down on Mulberry."
"Gus, I..." Shawn started. Gus's fingers stopped in mid-stroke. The super-smeller was on duty.
"What is that smell, Shawn?" Gus sniffed the air a few more times. "It smells like burnt plastic, burnt... meat? Shawn, were you cooking something in the kitchenette?"
"What? Meat? I... oh, no. Gus, our Christmas feast!" Shawn dashed into the kitchenette of the Psych offices, leaving Gus bewildered at his desk.
"Our what now?" Gus jumped up and followed after Shawn.
Sure enough, Shawn's small Easy-Bake oven was slowing folding onto itself, having melted from the heat of the large bulb Shawn had used to speed up the meal.
"That was our..." Shawn poked and prodded the mess to reveal a half-baked chicken leg among the molten plastic.
"You baked a chicken leg in an Easy Bake oven? And that was supposed to feed both of us? On Christmas?" Gus stared at the bubbling oven. Shawn's face fell.
"No, Gus," Shawn's tone was hurt. He gave a look at Gus and said, "What, are you Scrooge now? Dude, it's supposed to be all about the spirit!" Shawn hung his head in dismay and sighed. The plastic gurgled and popped over the chicken once more.
"Merry Christmas, Gus."
Title: Oopsie Claus
Rating: PG
Summary: Lassiter isn't exactly Scrooge, but he's no Tiny Tim either.
Fandom: Psych
Word count: 662
Notes: I'm not entirely happy with this one, or how it just abruptly ends, but I had to end it or else it'd keep going into a full fic.
Shawn and Gus's Psych offices usually see a lot of action. It's been two years since they opened, a fact that boggles most of the Santa Barbara police force. Not least of the baffled is Carlton Lassiter.
Lassiter is not the type of person to pray everyday-- he believes in making his own destiny. But since meeting Shawn Spencer, he's prayed everyday. Prayed that Shawn gets revealed as the poser that Lassiter knows he is. Today is no exception, especially when he finds a tinsel-covered pineapple at his desk with a green Christmas card attached to a leaf. He knows it's yet another day with that damn Spencer around.
"Goo-ood morning, detective!" comes the chipper voice of Santa Barbara's resident psychic. He's covered in red velvet with white fur. It takes Lassiter a while to recognize he's supposed to be looking at Spencer Claus. He's not amused. "Good morning, Spencer," he says in a dry, monotone. "But... isn't Santa Claus just a tad older-- and might I add plumper-- than you?"
Shawn's mouth slides into a smirk. "What? No, no. I'm Fred Claus. Gus is Santa!" Shawn motions behind himself, to where Gus is waddling awkwardly behind, stuffed into a fat suit under a traditional Santa suit. Gus glares at Shawn, giving him the usual death look. "Oh, come on, Gus! Walk faster! You can't walk that slow. You've got millions of presents to send all around the world tonight at the charity benefit."
"Shawn," Gus hisses, "I can't walk at all in this. The suit is too tight, it's cutting off my circulation!"
"Gus, don't be a Californian Grinch. It's bad enough we hardly get snow. How are you going to live with yourself if you don't appear for all those good little girls and boys tonight?"
"First of all, Shawn, I don't think the children are going to buy a black Santa as the real deal."
"Oh please," Lassiter interrupts. "Everyone finds out about those ridiculous lies way before their parents think they do. I mean, even I figured it out before I was 14."
Both Shawn and Gus stand still, mostly in shock.
"What?" Lassiter asks. The two buddies try not to stare at Lassiter too long. Since they've known him, Lassiter has hardly disappointed with putting his foot in his mouth. Shawn assumes it's part of the reason that makes Lassiter despise him so much.
"Gus, when did you--"
"I was about seven."
"Yeah."
"You told me, remember?"
"And then we checked all the closets in your house."
"I took inventory," Gus smiles.
"And then we called each other after we opened our presents."
"Yup." Shawn raises his fist to pound Gus, and Gus does the same. The suit restricts Gus, and all he can do is wave his fist in Shawn's direction.
"The point is, Mr. Spencer, Mr. Burton," says Lassiter, quite loud and rude," is that none of those children at tonight's event care about the jolly old man in the red suit. Today is just like any other day, with crime and murder. And all those children coming tonight care about is the stupid little frilly dolls and gadgets they're getting at the end of it."
Shawn raises his eyebrows and shares a look with Gus. They all know what this tiny victory means. But like always, the two partners in crime have to rub it in. They smile like little children. Lassiter scowls.
"Dude, whatever. It's Christmas. Merry Christmas, Lassy." Shawn places a peace-offering hand on Lassiter's shoulder. He shrugs it off.
"Merry Christmas, Spencer." The words hung icily in the air, like they didn't belong in Lassiter's vocabulary. "And get all this tinsel out of here, it looks like the station is a baked potato." He had to find out more about that murder case from two nights ago anyway. Lassiter turns and walks briskly away.
Shawn and Gus stay behind, mostly amused-- and in the case of Gus, uncomfortable as well.
These are all from the Psych Christmas special, but they're not all in chronological, episodic order.
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| 1 | 2 | 3 |
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| 4 | 5 | 6 |
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| 7 | 8 | 9 |
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| 10 | 11 | 12 |
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| 13 | 14 | 15 |
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| 16 | 17 | 18 |
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| 19 | 20 | 21 |
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| 22 | 23 | 24 |
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| 25 | 26 | 27 |
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| 28 | 29 | 30 |
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| 31 | 32 | 33 |
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| 34 | 35 | 36 |
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| 37 | 38 | 39 |
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| 40 | 41 | 42 |
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| 43 | 44 | 45 |
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| 46 | 47 | 48 |
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| 49 | 50 | 51 |
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| 52 | 53 | 54 |
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| 55 | 56 | 57 |
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| 58 | 59 | 60 |
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| 61 | 62 | 63 |
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| 64 | 65 | 66 |
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| 67 | 68 | 69 |
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| 70 | 71 | 72 |
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| 73 | 74 | 75 |
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| 76 | 77 | 78 |
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-12-31 08:50 am (UTC)And the second icon is totally hilarious. Also my internet for some strange reason totally cut off the second I was going to read the stories and I was like ARE YOU BLOODY SERIOUS!! And now it is running slow and refuses to load most of the icons. Grrr.
Anyway, Shawn is wearing too many layers now :( I know where they film is probably cold but but we can have the polos again? Not that I don't like the stuff he is wearing but again too many layers. Though, wait. Yay last four icons for the single layer clothes win!! I have to decide which ones to snag.
The part in 29 always makes me sad for Shawn. Lassy has done that twice and I swear both times I was so afraid he was going to break Shawn's fingers. Though I know Lassy would never be that mean. Just my brain is awful.
All for some reason the blond kid in icon 33 is screaming it's really Draco Malfoy to me.
no subject
Date: 2008-01-01 04:13 am (UTC)I was capping the episode and saw that bush and had to rewind. My internet is slow lately too. I wonder why.
He really is1 I get that it's a Christmas episode but in Santa Barbara I'm sure they don't get much cold weather.
Lassy is so rough at times. He has anger issues.
A Slytherin celebratng Christmas with Lassiter? Interesting...