mrwubbles: (Wubbles)
First Avengers fic. OMG, wait, I change my mind...LOL.

Title: To Whom It May Concern
Author: [livejournal.com profile] mrwubbles aka Yum@
Characters: Gen, Tony Stark, Avengers (MCU), Phil Coulson, JARVIS
Rating: PG
Word Count: 5K+
Spoilers: minor mentions of The Avengers, Iron Man 3
Warning: mentions canon character death, strong language, pop references, and possible characterization mis-fire.
Summary: Tony gets a visitor in his workshop. It pretty much goes downhill from there.


| Offsite on AO3 |


PS: Hm, time to search for Avengers icons...
mrwubbles: (SGA Rodney Still Smarter)
LOL...We all need this. It's hilarious, tongue-in-cheek homage to the dry grind forms in triplicate that we abhor. It's a parody for the every day working soul. A friend shared this with me for a laugh. I'm returning the favor. :)

Formal Apology Form A-001 )
mrwubbles: (SGA Rodney Still Smarter)
LOL...We all need this. It's hilarious, tongue-in-cheek homage to the dry grind forms in triplicate that we abhor. It's a parody for the every day working soul. A friend shared this with me for a laugh. I'm returning the favor. :)

Formal Apology Form A-001 )
mrwubbles: (SENTINEL Sandburg)
Title: Idle Conversations: Romper
Fandom: The Sentinel
Rating: G (all ages)
Category: prompt, humor
Summary: Sometimes, it's like working with children.
Spoilers: none
Word Count: 1017 words, Complete
Disclaimer: The Sentinel is owned by Pet Fly Productions and their mutual affiliates. This is for entertainment purposes only. 
  Of course everyone heard because spirit guides were never quiet and completely inconsiderate to the fact captains just want to have uneventful days.  )
 
Simon clamped down on the unlit cigar. He liked to pretend he could smoke it in a flip show of defiance to the 'No Smoking' sign across his desk. He finished his call with the commissioner. For once, it ended congenial and his Major Crimes department's budget wasn't threatened during the phone conference. All parties were happy about the case's progress, the D.A agreed to take the case, and his best team (but you didn't hear that from him) were on their way to pick Bronson up.
 
So why the hell were there a black jaguar and a wolf staring at him from under the meeting table?
 
"What are you two doing here?" Simon hissed around his rolled up tobacco. The last time they were here, it was because Sandburg was being held hostage by a paranoid suspect and Jim was hanging out a third story window because the fool thought he could get in from the outside. That was the last time Simon ever did a favor for the A.D.A.
 
The wolf, with its damn startling blue eyes, raised its disinterested gaze at him and huffed once; just a short puff of breath substituting as a bark. Then, it grinned, sat up, and wagged its elegant tail. It gave another happy bark before tilting its head back and howled.
 
"Sandburg, knock it off!" Simon hissed, glancing over nervously at his shuttered blinds.
 
The jaguar lifted a mighty furry black paw, let it hang in the air for a second, and then swiped the back of its companion's silver head. Hard.
 
The surprised half yelp, half squeak rose Simon to his feet. His cigar hung off his lower lip. "Jim!"
 
Bored, the jaguar looked at him, its paw squashing down on the hapless canine. The pointy furry ears flattened and the wolf looked up pitifully at Simon. It whined "You see that?" to Simon before it slouched lower under the feline's paw. The cat simply rolled its eyes.
 
Simon blinked. The jungle cat looked about ready to yawn at him. "What the hell's matter with you?" Great, it must mean those two yahoos were arguing out there somewhere; just what he needed. Their shouting matches always meant his mediating presence; whether they wanted it or not.
 
"Look," Simon began, showing his hands towards the pair. "Why don't you just let Sandburg be? Whatever it is…" Maybe he could fix this now. Hey, worked for Androcles. If he could just get that wolf out from under its paw…
 
The low rumble from the cat's throat was equivalent to a dismissal. Simon backed a step. His chair rolled back behind him. Spirit animals don't bite, right?
 
The wolf shoved its muzzle under the jaguar's chin, snuffed once, then wiggled out from the paw. "Free!" it barked. It gave a full body shiver (Simon hoped spirit animals don't shed or get spirit fleas for that matter) and circled the large cat. Sandburg's wolf stopped, cocked its head and considered the large sleek cat. Then, without warning, it bit down on the cat's tail.
 
"Sandburg!" Simon swatted a hand towards the two as the jaguar yowled. It sprang up on all fours and zipped towards the wolf with a snarl. Sandburg's spirit guide yipped what could only be "Oh shit!" in canine-speak, and darted under the meeting table.
 
Chairs flew to the side as the wolf avoided another paw by barreling into the furniture.
 
"What the hell's wrong with you two!" Simon exploded. He hopped back a step to avoid a giant ball of silver fur that whizzed between his legs like a lightning bolt. He flailed as the jaguar knocked into his legs and he fell into his chair. The jaguar skidded on the linoleum as it made a sharp turn, pounced the wolf, and the two went tumbling into his bookcase with an impressive crash and a couple of startled yips.
 
The padded leather cushion deflated with a loud whoosh when Simon stumbled back. Simon stared blankly at nothing in particular, his arms hung out of the chair. He really didn't want to move. It was such a nice day before.
 
Simon's nostrils flared as he could hear the two swatting paws at each other. There should be a laugh track somewhere.
 
"Will you two knock it off?" Simon bellowed from his seat.
 
The two beasts froze when Simon's intercom buzzed.

"Captain?" Rhonda could be seen standing up from her chair outside. She craned her neck to try to peer between the gaps of the blinds.
 
"What is it, Rhonda?" Simon mumbled. He kept his eyes on the two furry culprits. Sandburg's spirit guide sat on its haunches, head stooped low as if chastised.
 
"Uh…is everything okay in there? We…um…heard shouting…well…everything alright?"
 
Of course everyone heard because spirit guides were never quiet and completely inconsiderate to the fact captains just want to have uneventful days. Simon glowered at the two. "Spayed and neutered," he mouthed. The wolf's eyes crossed. Out loud, he steadied his voice.
 
"Everything's fine." Simon coughed.
 
"We heard…"
 
"It was a rat," Simon returned flatly.
 
"A…r-rat?"
 
Simon narrowed his eyes at the wolf and jaguar. The cat had its paws on the wolf's head again, squashing the poor canine belly down to the floor. The wolf, barely discernible under paws the size of its head, gave a whine and a growled warning to the cat. Jim's spirit animal did not look impressed. Its tail flicked and nothing more.
 
"Actually," Simon amended as he jabbed a finger to an empty spot in front of him. It was empty of chairs thanks to them. "It was two rats." He jabbed his finger at the spot again. "Two fat rats." Did Jim's spirit animal just growled at him?

"Oh." It was guaranteed Ronda was not coming in here now. Simon could see her sit back down again hastily. "Do you want me to call Pest Control?"
 
"More like Animal Control," Simon muttered. 

Sandburg's wolf yipped. Ellison's cat snarled when the wolf jumped it. More books fell.
 
Some days, it's like working with children.


Author's Note: I don't think it counts as a conversation per se, but there was talking...lol
mrwubbles: (SENTINEL Sandburg)
Title: Idle Conversations: Romper
Fandom: The Sentinel
Rating: G (all ages)
Category: prompt, humor
Summary: Sometimes, it's like working with children.
Spoilers: none
Word Count: 1017 words, Complete
Disclaimer: The Sentinel is owned by Pet Fly Productions and their mutual affiliates. This is for entertainment purposes only. 
  Of course everyone heard because spirit guides were never quiet and completely inconsiderate to the fact captains just want to have uneventful days.  )
 
Simon clamped down on the unlit cigar. He liked to pretend he could smoke it in a flip show of defiance to the 'No Smoking' sign across his desk. He finished his call with the commissioner. For once, it ended congenial and his Major Crimes department's budget wasn't threatened during the phone conference. All parties were happy about the case's progress, the D.A agreed to take the case, and his best team (but you didn't hear that from him) were on their way to pick Bronson up.
 
So why the hell were there a black jaguar and a wolf staring at him from under the meeting table?
 
"What are you two doing here?" Simon hissed around his rolled up tobacco. The last time they were here, it was because Sandburg was being held hostage by a paranoid suspect and Jim was hanging out a third story window because the fool thought he could get in from the outside. That was the last time Simon ever did a favor for the A.D.A.
 
The wolf, with its damn startling blue eyes, raised its disinterested gaze at him and huffed once; just a short puff of breath substituting as a bark. Then, it grinned, sat up, and wagged its elegant tail. It gave another happy bark before tilting its head back and howled.
 
"Sandburg, knock it off!" Simon hissed, glancing over nervously at his shuttered blinds.
 
The jaguar lifted a mighty furry black paw, let it hang in the air for a second, and then swiped the back of its companion's silver head. Hard.
 
The surprised half yelp, half squeak rose Simon to his feet. His cigar hung off his lower lip. "Jim!"
 
Bored, the jaguar looked at him, its paw squashing down on the hapless canine. The pointy furry ears flattened and the wolf looked up pitifully at Simon. It whined "You see that?" to Simon before it slouched lower under the feline's paw. The cat simply rolled its eyes.
 
Simon blinked. The jungle cat looked about ready to yawn at him. "What the hell's matter with you?" Great, it must mean those two yahoos were arguing out there somewhere; just what he needed. Their shouting matches always meant his mediating presence; whether they wanted it or not.
 
"Look," Simon began, showing his hands towards the pair. "Why don't you just let Sandburg be? Whatever it is…" Maybe he could fix this now. Hey, worked for Androcles. If he could just get that wolf out from under its paw…
 
The low rumble from the cat's throat was equivalent to a dismissal. Simon backed a step. His chair rolled back behind him. Spirit animals don't bite, right?
 
The wolf shoved its muzzle under the jaguar's chin, snuffed once, then wiggled out from the paw. "Free!" it barked. It gave a full body shiver (Simon hoped spirit animals don't shed or get spirit fleas for that matter) and circled the large cat. Sandburg's wolf stopped, cocked its head and considered the large sleek cat. Then, without warning, it bit down on the cat's tail.
 
"Sandburg!" Simon swatted a hand towards the two as the jaguar yowled. It sprang up on all fours and zipped towards the wolf with a snarl. Sandburg's spirit guide yipped what could only be "Oh shit!" in canine-speak, and darted under the meeting table.
 
Chairs flew to the side as the wolf avoided another paw by barreling into the furniture.
 
"What the hell's wrong with you two!" Simon exploded. He hopped back a step to avoid a giant ball of silver fur that whizzed between his legs like a lightning bolt. He flailed as the jaguar knocked into his legs and he fell into his chair. The jaguar skidded on the linoleum as it made a sharp turn, pounced the wolf, and the two went tumbling into his bookcase with an impressive crash and a couple of startled yips.
 
The padded leather cushion deflated with a loud whoosh when Simon stumbled back. Simon stared blankly at nothing in particular, his arms hung out of the chair. He really didn't want to move. It was such a nice day before.
 
Simon's nostrils flared as he could hear the two swatting paws at each other. There should be a laugh track somewhere.
 
"Will you two knock it off?" Simon bellowed from his seat.
 
The two beasts froze when Simon's intercom buzzed.

"Captain?" Rhonda could be seen standing up from her chair outside. She craned her neck to try to peer between the gaps of the blinds.
 
"What is it, Rhonda?" Simon mumbled. He kept his eyes on the two furry culprits. Sandburg's spirit guide sat on its haunches, head stooped low as if chastised.
 
"Uh…is everything okay in there? We…um…heard shouting…well…everything alright?"
 
Of course everyone heard because spirit guides were never quiet and completely inconsiderate to the fact captains just want to have uneventful days. Simon glowered at the two. "Spayed and neutered," he mouthed. The wolf's eyes crossed. Out loud, he steadied his voice.
 
"Everything's fine." Simon coughed.
 
"We heard…"
 
"It was a rat," Simon returned flatly.
 
"A…r-rat?"
 
Simon narrowed his eyes at the wolf and jaguar. The cat had its paws on the wolf's head again, squashing the poor canine belly down to the floor. The wolf, barely discernible under paws the size of its head, gave a whine and a growled warning to the cat. Jim's spirit animal did not look impressed. Its tail flicked and nothing more.
 
"Actually," Simon amended as he jabbed a finger to an empty spot in front of him. It was empty of chairs thanks to them. "It was two rats." He jabbed his finger at the spot again. "Two fat rats." Did Jim's spirit animal just growled at him?

"Oh." It was guaranteed Ronda was not coming in here now. Simon could see her sit back down again hastily. "Do you want me to call Pest Control?"
 
"More like Animal Control," Simon muttered. 

Sandburg's wolf yipped. Ellison's cat snarled when the wolf jumped it. More books fell.
 
Some days, it's like working with children.


Author's Note: I don't think it counts as a conversation per se, but there was talking...lol
mrwubbles: (SG1 Stargate Sg-1)
More on the coffee prompt. Am stuck in the Stargate 'verse (not that I'm complaining, mind you). Anyone's welcome to try. Just a little writing for practice. Silly fun and come on, I bet some of you out there totally understood what Daniel said in here...LOL.

Title: The 23rd Language
Author: Yuma
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Rating: G, no pairing, humor
Words: 755 words
 
The 23rd Language )
 
"…was thinking the cookie…"
 
"You know, there's no line at that diner there…"
 
Teal'c silently agreed with O'Neill's assessment that the eatery across the street was indeed empty and would most likely be faster than the line in one of the many siblings of Starbucks. Teal'c doubted the viability of its offerings though. O'Neill had referred to it as a "greasy spoon".

 It did not sound appetizing.

The line moved with the typical pace of Apophis' slaves shuffling their chained bare feet into the mines. The faces here were just as unpleasant. They stared at the young man up front, who took no care about the grumbling around him; he wore a dark green apron and an odd cap set crooked compared to the others. He merely took his time. Many scowled at the…barista (Teal'c had asked DanielJackson to repeat it. Twice.) The man was apparently the overseer because he kept shouting to the others (also in green aprons and caps) after each customer. 
 
Captain Carter and DanielJackson were ahead of him. Their faces were pressed close to the glass case that held today's offerings. They left smudges on the cool surface with their fingers as they pointed out possible candidates for breakfast. Their heads were huddled close together, like when they were offplanet. Their choices were odd: a coffee cake that didn't look like it contained any coffee, a donut hole that had none, and a frittata that Captain Carter insisted was not an omelet and was made with egg whites only it wasn't white but lemon yellow.
 
Teal'c sighed to himself and made notes of everything the pair said. He will research this when they return to base. Or perhaps he will ask Lucy in the commissary. She was most helpful before in explaining why a pancake was not technically a cake and hot dogs did not really contain any canine product. However, she could not explain the custom of putting ketchup and mustard, sauerkraut, onions, relish, and beans on top. O'Neill had been most insistent. It tasted…interesting.
 
"Seriously, kids, there's a Dunkin Donuts just before the highway. We could pick up a—" O'Neill trailed off when, as one, Captain Carter and DanielJackson glowered up at O'Neill.
 
"You insisted on playing poker for breakfast," DanielJackson reminded O'Neill, still crouched by the glass enclosure.
 
O'Neill scowled back. "Dunkin Donuts is breakfast," he grumbled from behind Teal'c.
 
Captain Carter made an impolite sound. DanielJackson nodded in agreement. "Donuts are not really part of a healthy breakfast, sir."
 
Before O'Neill could reply, the pair returned their attention to the counter.
 
"What do you think, Sam?"
 
"…was thinking the rice krispie treat with the white chocolate…"
 
"…split with you? I'm thinking of the French toast…"
 
O'Neill muttered something under his breath that Teal'c thought best not to ask repeating. They moved up a few more steps. When DanielJackson reached the barista, O'Neill breathed "Finally."
 
Teal'c listened as Captain Carter ordered the food. She ordered the yellow egg white not an omelet frittata for Teal'c and some donut holes for O'Neill. When she was done, she turned expectedly to Daniel to order the beverages.
 
"…venti americano, no foam, half caf, breve…"
 
?
 
"…latte with soy, double shot, no whip…"
 
Teal'c blinked. He was enthralled as DanielJackson smoothly went down the list he made during their wait. He was completely at ease talking to the barista man, who replied just as strangely. Everyone around them didn't react.
 
The Jaffa always knew DanielJackson was remarkable and very important. A scholar who could speak the word of the gods and learn other languages so quickly with each world the Stargate took them. But this…
 
"And a grande cappuccino, light, extra hot, regular, and—" Daniel cocked his head towards Captain Carter as she whispered in his ear. The two looked past Teal'c, up and down at O'Neill and Daniel faced front again.
 
"And no whip," DanielJackson finished brightly. He wasn't even perspiring. Amazing.
 
"Daniel, that better be coffee you just ordered me," O'Neill growled.
 
DanielJackson was about to reply when he caught Teal'c's expression. "Is everything okay?"
 
"It was most impressive," Teal'c boomed as they stepped aside to wait for their order.
 
"Huh?" His friend wrinkled his nose that reminded him of his son. He missed his son.
 
"Was this," Teal'c waved towards the barista, "one of the twenty three languages you have mentioned having knowledge of?"
 
For some reason, DanielJackson flushed and O'Neill erupted into laughter.
 
The Tau'ri are very strange indeed.
 
The End
mrwubbles: (SG1 Stargate Sg-1)
More on the coffee prompt. Am stuck in the Stargate 'verse (not that I'm complaining, mind you). Anyone's welcome to try. Just a little writing for practice. Silly fun and come on, I bet some of you out there totally understood what Daniel said in here...LOL.

Title: The 23rd Language
Author: Yuma
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Rating: G, no pairing, humor
Words: 755 words
 
The 23rd Language )
 
"…was thinking the cookie…"
 
"You know, there's no line at that diner there…"
 
Teal'c silently agreed with O'Neill's assessment that the eatery across the street was indeed empty and would most likely be faster than the line in one of the many siblings of Starbucks. Teal'c doubted the viability of its offerings though. O'Neill had referred to it as a "greasy spoon".

 It did not sound appetizing.

The line moved with the typical pace of Apophis' slaves shuffling their chained bare feet into the mines. The faces here were just as unpleasant. They stared at the young man up front, who took no care about the grumbling around him; he wore a dark green apron and an odd cap set crooked compared to the others. He merely took his time. Many scowled at the…barista (Teal'c had asked DanielJackson to repeat it. Twice.) The man was apparently the overseer because he kept shouting to the others (also in green aprons and caps) after each customer. 
 
Captain Carter and DanielJackson were ahead of him. Their faces were pressed close to the glass case that held today's offerings. They left smudges on the cool surface with their fingers as they pointed out possible candidates for breakfast. Their heads were huddled close together, like when they were offplanet. Their choices were odd: a coffee cake that didn't look like it contained any coffee, a donut hole that had none, and a frittata that Captain Carter insisted was not an omelet and was made with egg whites only it wasn't white but lemon yellow.
 
Teal'c sighed to himself and made notes of everything the pair said. He will research this when they return to base. Or perhaps he will ask Lucy in the commissary. She was most helpful before in explaining why a pancake was not technically a cake and hot dogs did not really contain any canine product. However, she could not explain the custom of putting ketchup and mustard, sauerkraut, onions, relish, and beans on top. O'Neill had been most insistent. It tasted…interesting.
 
"Seriously, kids, there's a Dunkin Donuts just before the highway. We could pick up a—" O'Neill trailed off when, as one, Captain Carter and DanielJackson glowered up at O'Neill.
 
"You insisted on playing poker for breakfast," DanielJackson reminded O'Neill, still crouched by the glass enclosure.
 
O'Neill scowled back. "Dunkin Donuts is breakfast," he grumbled from behind Teal'c.
 
Captain Carter made an impolite sound. DanielJackson nodded in agreement. "Donuts are not really part of a healthy breakfast, sir."
 
Before O'Neill could reply, the pair returned their attention to the counter.
 
"What do you think, Sam?"
 
"…was thinking the rice krispie treat with the white chocolate…"
 
"…split with you? I'm thinking of the French toast…"
 
O'Neill muttered something under his breath that Teal'c thought best not to ask repeating. They moved up a few more steps. When DanielJackson reached the barista, O'Neill breathed "Finally."
 
Teal'c listened as Captain Carter ordered the food. She ordered the yellow egg white not an omelet frittata for Teal'c and some donut holes for O'Neill. When she was done, she turned expectedly to Daniel to order the beverages.
 
"…venti americano, no foam, half caf, breve…"
 
?
 
"…latte with soy, double shot, no whip…"
 
Teal'c blinked. He was enthralled as DanielJackson smoothly went down the list he made during their wait. He was completely at ease talking to the barista man, who replied just as strangely. Everyone around them didn't react.
 
The Jaffa always knew DanielJackson was remarkable and very important. A scholar who could speak the word of the gods and learn other languages so quickly with each world the Stargate took them. But this…
 
"And a grande cappuccino, light, extra hot, regular, and—" Daniel cocked his head towards Captain Carter as she whispered in his ear. The two looked past Teal'c, up and down at O'Neill and Daniel faced front again.
 
"And no whip," DanielJackson finished brightly. He wasn't even perspiring. Amazing.
 
"Daniel, that better be coffee you just ordered me," O'Neill growled.
 
DanielJackson was about to reply when he caught Teal'c's expression. "Is everything okay?"
 
"It was most impressive," Teal'c boomed as they stepped aside to wait for their order.
 
"Huh?" His friend wrinkled his nose that reminded him of his son. He missed his son.
 
"Was this," Teal'c waved towards the barista, "one of the twenty three languages you have mentioned having knowledge of?"
 
For some reason, DanielJackson flushed and O'Neill erupted into laughter.
 
The Tau'ri are very strange indeed.
 
The End
mrwubbles: (SG1 Stargate Sg-1)
Shipping the java. Oh noooos...

I had found this lovely icon by bmshippers_arts of Jack Harkness and coffee. And it got me thinking. (uh oh) There are so many fannish relationships between the characters we love and the java. Just little drabbles about them and their coffee as I sip mine. *G*
 
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Words: 171 words
Time: 9 minutes
 Romancing the java... )
 
Daniel blew softly at the contents in the blue and white coffee mug before sipping. It was a gift from Sam and even Daniel could appreciate the caffeine molecule on the smooth, matte ceramic. Jack's idea of a good mug was one with Homer Simpson on it with some odd quote both he and Teal'c can't quite get. Plus, Jack also thought coffee mugs that hold 16 ounces was good enough.
 
Daniel pulled back his coffee and eyed the 28 ounce ceramic in his left hand. He snorted.
 
Yeah, sure you betcha.
 
Another sip (he'll have to remember to buy something for Janet for this blend she'd found in town) and Daniel went back to reviewing Lawson's idiotic interpretation of the symbol tyruei. Lawson was certain it meant to deposit. It would explain why Sergeant Anderson mistaken the chieftain's concubine's hut for a lavatory.   
 
* The 28 oz caffeine molecule mug exists with GeekToys, Inc. *glower* And yes, I'm a regular customer with them!
mrwubbles: (SG1 Stargate Sg-1)
Shipping the java. Oh noooos...

I had found this lovely icon by bmshippers_arts of Jack Harkness and coffee. And it got me thinking. (uh oh) There are so many fannish relationships between the characters we love and the java. Just little drabbles about them and their coffee as I sip mine. *G*
 
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Words: 171 words
Time: 9 minutes
 Romancing the java... )
 
Daniel blew softly at the contents in the blue and white coffee mug before sipping. It was a gift from Sam and even Daniel could appreciate the caffeine molecule on the smooth, matte ceramic. Jack's idea of a good mug was one with Homer Simpson on it with some odd quote both he and Teal'c can't quite get. Plus, Jack also thought coffee mugs that hold 16 ounces was good enough.
 
Daniel pulled back his coffee and eyed the 28 ounce ceramic in his left hand. He snorted.
 
Yeah, sure you betcha.
 
Another sip (he'll have to remember to buy something for Janet for this blend she'd found in town) and Daniel went back to reviewing Lawson's idiotic interpretation of the symbol tyruei. Lawson was certain it meant to deposit. It would explain why Sergeant Anderson mistaken the chieftain's concubine's hut for a lavatory.   
 
* The 28 oz caffeine molecule mug exists with GeekToys, Inc. *glower* And yes, I'm a regular customer with them!

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