I've kept this up for more than a week, which is good, I'll be impressed if I keep it up all month!
This week's offerings include Harry Potter, Sherlock, Alanna, In the Hands of the Goddess, Doctor Who. I'm not thrilled with the one for Alanna, but I think I got the voice down a little better for In the Hands of the Goddess
Three weeks later, Harry was starting to question his very firm belief that he was only dreaming. For one thing, this was turning into a very long and somewhat boring dream that was currently consisting mostly of going to class. He’d thought the minor shock of seeing Umbridge again would have startled him awake, but that hadn’t happened by the third or fourth time he’d had her class and he didn’t think it was very likely by now. Ron and Hermione were spending equal amounts of time whispering urgently to each other and badgering him as to why he had suddenly lost interest in Umbridge’s plans and being left in the dark by the Order. He’d taken to occasionally hiding out in the Astronomy tower just to get some peace and quiet. He sat there now, under his invisibility cloak and eyed the mirror he’d dug out of the bottom of his trunk thoughtfully.
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John very desperately needed some sleep. He’d lost track of how many hours he’d been up since this whole mess started. He’d caught a few catnaps in between running down leads about the plans and chasing after Sherlock. He’d drank far more cups of coffee then was probably healthy. Now though, he was looking forward to lounging around Sarah’s apartment- maybe even sleeping in her bed this time, but he wasn’t sure he had the energy for anything else unfortunately- and getting some solid non-takeout food. He was fairly confident if he played it up enough, she’d be willing to cook for him.
He was tired enough to overlook Sherlock’s sudden willingness for crap telly and actually doing the shopping.
He was tired enough to not realize he was being followed until he was only a block from Sarah’s flat.
“Johnny boy, wasn’t it?” an oddly familiar voice came out of the alley next to him. The man that stepped out was only vaguely so however.
“Jim from IT,” he smirked, “Do you always apologize for your friend that way?”
John blinked at him, “Sorry, but what are you doing here exactly? And in a suit?”
“Oh, I’ve got a game to finish. I have a feeling your friend’s going to want to be apologizing to you, if you both live, that is,” Jim gave a wicked grin.
John found himself being hustled into the alley suddenly and grimaced as his arms were forced behind his back. He froze as his arms were threaded through what had to be a vest. A very heavy feeling vest, and he slowly looked down, not particularly anxious to confirm his fears even as a new flood of adrenaline made the previous sluggishness disappear.
“Now that everyone’s dressed for the party,” he was treated to another insane grin, “We’d best go before we’re late. Now there are two options for you, Johnny boy. You can get in the car quietly and not making a fuss or you can keep walking to your girlfriend’s house and give Sherlock a little call for me.” A rather large puffy coat was being forced on him now. John shrugged the hands away and pulled the coat up the rest of the way himself. Wasn’t much point in holding him, he didn’t fancy being blown to bits before he could warn Sherlock.
“All right, fine. Where’s the damn car?”
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Alanna had known for a long time that training for to be a knight would be hard. The amount of time alone she would be spending on that training insisted that it had to be a lot of work. The problem was, she thought she had been a little more prepared for all this work then she really was. It was discouraging to be feeling this badly after only two days, however. She didn’t want to believe that she since was doing this badly she wasn’t going to make it, but no one else seemed to be having quite as hard a time keeping up.
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Alanna had imagined all sorts of ways her friends would react after they found out she was in fact a girl and had been for the entire time that they’d known her. Her ideas of the reactions varied from the halfhearted hope that they would simply accept it and move on to the reluctantly accepted feeling that they would be angry or upset for all of the lies. Since Prince Jonathon had discovered her secret, however, she suddenly had one more way to imagine how exactly they would take it. She had sudden visions of all of them running around exclaiming ‘but you’ve seen me naked!’ like small boys who were suddenly aware that girls were Different From Them. She was looking less and less forward to her Ordeal every day.
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“Oh no, I’m not going to be the one to tell her,” John flat out refused to take the blame for this particular mishap. He wasn’t even sure anyone would believe it was his fault anyway.
“I…” Sherlock hesitated just a moment, “ I think Lestrade just texted me, I really need to go.”
“Your phone didn’t buzz,” John rolled his eyes.
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“Yes I do, it’s still in my coat from when I was holding it for you earlier,” John waved the piece of technology in question to prove his point.
“That phone didn’t buzz,” Sherlock stubbornly refused to give up on the excuse.
“Lestrade doesn’t know that number.”
“All right fine, I need to text Lestrade then, give me back my phone.”
“Not until you agree to tell her,” John stuffed it back into his coat pocket quickly.
“I refuse to give in to your blackmail!”
“I think I need to go see Sarah, we made plans to go to dinner,” John made a dash for the door but Sherlock blocked it before he could get out.
“Oh no, if I have to stay here, you do too.”
They both froze when Mrs. Hudson announced she was home.
“Truce?”
“Truce.”
They fled before Mrs. Hudson could come up and find her favorite lamp broken.
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“I’m sorry, I’m really very sorry.” The young man gave the Doctor and his companion a forlorn look.
“You’re sure that’s the only place I can find it?” he asked. His tone held the last bit of hope he had for a different answer.
“I’m really, really sorry,” the Doctor told him mournfully.
The man dropped his gaze to the floor briefly before squaring his shoulders and marching bravely off.
“I wish I hadn’t had to do it,” the Doctor sighed.
“It was the candy aisle,” she stifled a sigh. This was the third time this morning. It was only 10.
“And on today of all days,” he went on over her.
“Their own fault, waiting until the last minute,” she rolled her eyes and looking around quickly. No managers, good.
“February 13th, and I sent him to the candy aisle!”
He yelped as something soft hit the back of his head, interrupting his flailing.
The plushie fell to the floor with a squeak of ‘I love you!’
“Keep it up and I’ll be get to my doctor by making sure you regenerate ahead of schedule. Time can be rewritten, remember?” Amy threatened.
He gulped. The sooner they got the money to get out of here, the better.
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Actual/Goal: 1219/700
YTD Actual/Goal: 2073/1400