Emmylou's Fiction

Writer's Block: GIP (Gratuitous Icon Post)

Sun, 29 Mar 2009 11:09:20 GMT

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Of Tiny White Vans and Time Machines

Sat, 28 Mar 2009 23:17:17 GMT

Title: Of Tiny White Vans and Time Machines

Rating: G

Disclaimer: The No 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency is the wonderful creation of Alexander McCall Smith. The Doctor Who franchise is lovingly created by the BBC. This is all a bit of fun and no profit is made by me or anyone else.

Summary: Once a month the Doctor visits a small garage in Gaborone, Botswana where the best mechanic in Botswana (and in the Doctor’s eyes, the whole universe) helps keep the TARDIS going that little bit longer. No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency and Doctor Who crossover, but you don’t need to have really read the books as it’s explained.

Spoilers: Set before Teatime for the Traditionally Built in the books and aside from being a Ten story, it can be slotted in anywhere in the Tenth Doctor’s reign. You can even decide which companion he’s with if you like.

Author’s Notes: It’s a bizarre idea, yes? A crossover between the No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency and Doctor Who. It can’t be done, it shouldn’t be done...well, I don’t know about shouldn’t, but I’ve proved it can be done. The idea popped into my head and no matter how much I said ‘don’t be stupid’ it would go away. In the end I’m really happy with it. Considering it's been written while suffering exhaustion, I'm doing well!

And anyway, I have a gut feeling that the Doctor would love Botswana.

---

The little white van was troubling Mr. J L B Matekoni, proprietor of Speedy Motors, expert mechanic, and more recently the husband of the No. 1 Ladies’ Detective. The van was old, rusting in places, made strange noises, and seemed to burn up spare parts quicker than any other car in Botswana. However despite these qualities it was a hard working van, loyal and trustworthy, and in many ways a prouder vehicle than any young snazzy Mercedes Benz could ever be. It was also the much loved vehicle of Mma Ramotswe – Mr J L B Matekoni’s wife. She had had it many years and it was as important to her as any person was – perhaps beside himself and her fine father Obed Ramotswe. To tell her that it’s time was up, that it was simply too old, was impossible.

It was seven o’ clock now and there were only two people left in Speedy Motors, and the adjoining No 1. Ladies’ Detective Agency. Mma Ramotswe had been driven home by Charlie, the elder apprentice, the younger apprentice – Fanwell – had hopped onto the bus home the second five o’ clock appeared, and Mr. Polopetsi, after carefully finishing up his work had cycled home at half past. Now only Mma Makutsi was left typing away in the office and he was left trying to nurse the van into health.

Of course, even with the van to be worked on, Mr. J L B Matekoni would normally have gone home with his wife at five o’ clock. But tonight was the first Wednesday of the month and he had another reason for staying late; his strange visitor.

The thought of this visitor, along with worries about the van and Mma Makutsi’s unusually late night, distracted him so much that he stopped work on the little van and decided to make himself a cup of tea. He was a firm believer that distraction led to mistakes with vehicles, something he tried and failed to teach the apprentices.

He walked into the office and switched the kettle on. The typing stopped and there was an expectant pause.

“Would you like a cup Mma?” he asked.

“Yes please,” she replied crisply. The typing restarted but slightly slower this time.

Mma Makutsi was a fierce woman at times. She was the most distinguished graduate of the Botswana Secretarial College, receiving 97% in her final exams. She had started life with practically nothing and through working for the agency, running her own typing school for men, and her recent engagement to Mr. Radiphuti had finally reached a comfortable point in life. She was, though, not a woman to be trifled with, and though he was almost ten years older than her he was as nervous of her temper as the two young apprentices were.

“You are here late tonight Rra. Mma Ramotswe went home two hours ago,” she said politely. “Charlie drove her home,” her lips pursed in a way that suggested that she was as disapproving of Charlie’s driving as she was of everything else about him.

“I always work late on the first Wednesday of the month,” he said. The kettle clicked off and he poured them both tea. “Mma Ramotswe knows this.”

“Eh Rra, she said,” replied Mma Makutsi, ‘eh’ being the traditional way of saying ‘yes’.

“And you Mma, you are here late also,” he said.

He turned and placed her cup and saucer on the desk next to her and stood awkwardly in front of the desk, sipping his own tea. Would she get the hint to leave? He could not have her here when the visitor arrived.

“Eh Rra, Mr. Radiphuti is visiting a cousin tonight and so I took this chance to finish some outstanding paperwork. You do not achieve high results without extra effort.”

Mr. J L B Matekoni fully agreed with this. If there was a motto for the Speedy Motors Garage (and perhaps the No 1. Ladies’ Detective Agency also) he felt that this would be it. For a moment he imagined suggesting this. Perhaps Mma Makutsi could print it up on headed paper, or announce it when answering the phone.

“Still, you do not want to stay too late Mma. It is not a good thing to be out too late,” he hinted.

Mma Makutsi agreed with this but made no suggestion of finishing her work and leaving.

“Rra – I need to speak with you about this paperwork,” she said suddenly. She expertly whisked some sheets out of her in-tray and thrust them at him. “What do you think of that Rra? It is a mistake is it not?”

Mr. J L B Matekoni was momentarily flustered. He was not afraid of paperwork like some mechanics were, but he needed time to take it in. He scanned it.

“It is an order form Mma,” he shrugged. “Nothing unusual about that.”

Mma Makutsi harrumphed in frustration and came around the desk to point out his error. “Yes Rra, it is an order form. But you see the problem? You have ordered all these parts and yet I can find no reference to the car they went into or the bill that was sent out to the client. It is as if we give the parts away free!”

Mr. J L B Matekoni felt his stomach knot. How could he explain that he DID give those parts away free? If he did that he would have to explain why...and if he could not explain (and he surely could not), then she might investigate further (being an assistant detective). Even worse she might tell Mma Ramotswe; who, being both a detective and his wife, would soon weasel it out of him.

“I-I will have to check Mma...” he said, feeling his throat go dry.

“Surely you remember Rra? These parts are unusual...you remember all the cars that come in,” said Mma Makutsi impatiently.

“Tomorrow,” he said, “I will check tomorrow.”

As he said this he backed away towards the garage where she could pester him no more and he stood for some moments in the fading light and felt quite useless. He was in no state to work on cars, and yet he could not go back into the office.

It was seven thirty five and his visitor arrived at eight o’ clock. How could he let them know not to come? He had no way of contacting him...

He wanted out into the cooling air and sat on the old stool that Mr Polopetsti liked to take his break on. As he sat he wondered how he might explain himself to Mma Makutsi.

“It’s just a mechanic thing,” said his imaginary self.

This was true, but far too vague. Mma Makutsi would definitely tell Mma Ramotswe and between them they would find out.

“Mma Makutsi” said his imaginary self, “once a month I do some voluntary work on a machine. The owner does not want to make himself known and so I stay late and make sure no one knows.”

That was also true – but while it sounded very nice in his head he knew Mma Makutsi would press him for further details and he would give in.

And then there was the truth...well if he told her that she would definitely tell Mma Ramotswe who would make him go to Doctor Moffat in fear his illness had come back. Perhaps she would wail and cry. He imagined a distraught Mma Ramotswe wailing ‘My husband has gone mad! Oh help me!’

That, he decided, was taking it too far. Mma Ramotswe, aside from being a detective, was a steady woman and not given to hysterics. Perhaps, he thought with some amusement, she would not be surprised. “Is that all Rra? That’s perfectly normal! I have had visits like that myself...”

Well, she had had visits from clients who wanted to remain unknown - that was true. But this was unusual by even those standards. She certainly would not have been visited by the man in question – in fact it was quite amusing to wonder what sort of things the man might need the No 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency for. “Mma Ramotswe...I need to find a missing alien that is lost in Gaborone...” he imagined the man saying.

For a moment he wondered whether there were detectives in space. And if so, were there lady ones? He amused himself for a while imagining an alien secretary with large glasses covering three eyes.

He snapped himself back to the here and now, scolding himself for allowing his mind to wonder. When he had first taken this task on – recognising it as a task no mechanic could ever turn down and also recognising the great honour in being asked to work on such a machine – he’d stopped himself from thinking about where the man came from. He didn’t think about where other clients came from, what their wives were like, or the places they went to, and this should be no different. All he should ever know about this man could be found by looking at the vehicle, just as with any other engine brought into Speedy Motors.

It was now ten minutes to eight o’ clock. If Mma Makutsi didn’t leave soon, they she would soon find out the cause of the paperwork problem for herself. He sat, his insides gnawing with worry.

“Rra?”

Mr J L B Matekoni jumped, and he turned to see the lady in question. She was wearing shorter heels than usual, and so he hadn’t heard the familiar click of her shoes on the concrete. She was wearing a brown jacket and her red leather bag was tucked under her arm.

“Yes Mma?” he said. “Are you leaving now?”

“Eh,” she nodded. “I have locked the office so all you need to do is lock the garage.”

He nodded. “Good. I shall do that.”

For a horrific moment he thought she might stay and make conversation – give him some instructions that, in her eyes, might make the Apprentices work harder. She often said things like that ‘You must be firm! Clip them about the ear!’ or ‘Tell them that if they sit outside talking about girls when they should be working, you will throw a bucket of water over them.’ Personally he felt that if these punishments were carried out, it would be much more likely she would do them. In fact, she probably only mentioned them in the hope of being allowed to carry them out herself.

Tonight though, she smiled and said a polite goodnight leaving him to wait. He did not stand and go inside, there was no need. Instead he sat in the fading sun and inhaled the sweet scent of the evening. The city sounds were fading as people left for home, and he knew that by ten o’ clock the area would be as silent as any stretch of land out in the country.

At length he heard his friend (he could not bring himself to call the man a client, if anything he was THE client) arriving. Mr. J L B Matekoni moved into the garage again in time to see the proud machine solidify in front of him.

A Police Box, it said on the outside. But Mr. J L B Matekoni knew that it was anything but. The TARDIS his friend called it. Mr J L B Matekoni did not approve, generally, of men who called their cars ‘baby’ or ‘Suzie’, but TARDIS was the right name for this machine just as any car was defined by its maker.

The man in question popped his head out. “Ko ko!” he called – he seemed to particularly relish the call of arrival, liking the light sound of it. Unfortunately his pronunciation made it sound more like he was calling ‘Cocoa!’ but, on reflection Mr. J L B Matekoni didn’t think saying ‘Cocoa!’ was a particularly unpleasant way of arriving.

“Dumela Doctor,” he replied. “Did you sleep well?” he asked, this being a traditional polite beginning of a conversation.

The Doctor stepped out and returned the greeting. “Dumela Rra,” he said, attempting the traditional greeting – though his English accent made it sound at worst absurd and at best slightly french.

One of the things Mr. J L B Matekoni liked about the Doctor was his love of the Botswana words. Each time he heard a new one he would test it out in his mouth. For the same reason he always used Mr. J L B Matekoni’s full title apparently because he liked the sound of it as well.

“Any chance of a cuppa before we start?” asked the Doctor.

Mr. J L B Matekoni assured him there was and went to unlock the office to make it. The Doctor followed him and cheerfully sat on Mma Makutsi’s desk to wait. This Doctor had not met Mma Makutsi, that was certain, thought Mr. J L B Matekoni, or even he might have thought twice about sitting there. He hoped the man, who seemed curious about everything in life, would not start toying with Mma Makutsi’s typewriter. If anything was out of place tomorrow, Mma Makutsi would certainly blame him.

He poured out the Red Bush tea (not daring to touch Mma Makutsi’s precious India tea, even if the man would prefer it) and handed the cup and saucer over. He was relieved to see the typewriter remained untouched with the blank piece of paper still in it.

They were quiet for a moment as they drank. Mr. J L B Matekoni remembered the first few times the Doctor had come to him. He was always in a rush, and when he’d first made tea for the man he’d gulped it down in haste to start work on the TARDIS. But that was not how they did things in Botswana – they were a gentle country that took time over things and after a while the Doctor seemed to recognise that the slower approach would garner far more respect.

When the tea was drunk Mr. J L B Matekoni rinsed out the cups, put them away, and allowed the Doctor to lead him to the TARDIS. He handed the Doctor the parts he had ordered for him, and then picked up a small brown box filled with bits and pieces he had found that might be put to use in the machine – screws, an old buckle, a broken gear stick, batteries, and all sorts of odd items.

Before entering it he felt nervous, as he always did. It wasn’t the strange dimensions that worried him, but the feeling that he wasn’t in Botswana any longer. His mind told him that the TARDIS was sitting inside Speedy Motors, Gaborone, Botswana, but his heart told him that the inside of the TARDIS was as far away from Speedy Motors as it was possible to be. The Doctor had tried to explain that this was more or less the case, but that was one part of this miraculous machine that Mr. J L B Matekoni didn’t want to think about.

The parts were brought inside and the slow work on the machine began. It was easier than it had been the first time, but still difficult. Each part’s function needed to be explained on each little system he touched. Mr. J L B Matekoni was renowned to be the best mechanic in Botswana, but with a machine like this he was as innocent as a child.

It did not help, he felt, that when either of them spoke it had to be done in hushed tones. The Doctor had explained the first time that someone was asleep in the depths of the machine – clearly he was not alone. It made him wonder at a friendship where one person remained awake through the night while the other slept, and made him wonder whether the reason the Doctor never replied to how well he’d slept was because he never did.

About fifteen minutes in the Doctor yelped suddenly, “Don’t touch that! That defrosts the freezer!”

Mr J L B Matekoni’s hand paused over a lever that, as far as he knew, was part of the circuit that maintained oxygen. He sighed and tried to put his confusion into words. ‘Why isn’t it in the kitchen?’ would have been the right and logical thing to say, but instead he found himself voicing a thought that crept up on him whenever he thought of his strange times in the TARDIS.

“Why do you come here Doctor? Why do you ask me to work on this machine? I am just a mechanic – a good one perhaps but...” he trailed off and waved a hand to indicate the sheer impossibility of the situation.

The Doctor looked up from under the grill he was working on. “I wouldn’t trust anyone else near it Mr. J L B Matekoni. In a whole universe you are the closest I’ve ever found to an outsider who could really understand this machine. People say you’re the best mechanic in Botswana – believe me they underestimate you. And besides,” he said, brightening suddenly, “this old girl’s rather attached to you.” He patted the console and offered Mr. J L B Matekoni a winning smile.

Mr. J L B Matekoni swallowed, he was not a man who enjoyed praise, but he recognised the endorsement and went back to what he was doing – giving the lever a wide berth.

An hour later, after fiddling with an apparently vital system that seemed to be held together with duct tape, an alarm clock, and a tangle of ancient wires Mr. J L B Matekoni sighed. “Do you know what this machine reminds me of Rra?” he asked.

The Doctor didn’t even look up from the new part he was inspecting. “Hmm? What?”

“Mma Ramotwe’s white van.”

The strange statement caught the Doctor’s attention. “What?”

“Mma Ramotswe – my wife,” Mr. J L B Matekoni smiled fondly. “She runs the No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency next to the garage.”

“The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency,” the Doctor rolled the words around in his mouth as thought testing them out. “Love it! If I was a female...and lived in Botswana...and had some sort of problem I wouldn’t go anywhere else.”

“No Rra,” Mr. J L B Matekoni, quick to point out the common misconception. “They will help men too. They are called the Ladies’ Detective Agency because they are ladies. Mma Ramotswe and Mma Makutsi. And sometimes Mr. Polopetsi.” He caught the Doctor’s baffled look. “He is not a lady.”

Recognising that the conversation had shifted of track, Mr. J L B Matekoni returned to the point. “Mma Ramotswe has a fine white van which she has had for many years- unfortunately each time I work on it I think ‘I cannot fix it this time – it is too old’, and yet she loves it too much to ever change it. I think it sometimes works simply because she could not manage without it. That that is how you feel; no matter how impossible this machine becomes to fix, you will find a way somehow because you must.”

This time the Doctor swallowed. “Mr. J L B Matekoni,” he said slowly. “Your wife sounds like a good woman.”

Mr. J L B Matekoni smiled. “The finest woman in Botswana.”

Eventually all that could be done was done and Mr. J L B Matekoni picked up his things to leave, offering a hushed goodbye to the Doctor and his regards to the sleeping person on board. It was normal that he would leave and the Doctor would remain inside. As soon as Mr. J L B Matekoni was standing in the Speedy Motor’s forecourt, Gaborone, Botswana, the strange and wonderful machine would disappear for another month.

Tonight, though, the Doctor followed him and stood waiting as Mr. J L B Matekoni turned on the light in the now dark forecourt. “Was there something else Rra?” he asked.

The Doctor smiled, “I was thinking about a way to pay you back,” he said.

Mr. J L B Matekoni held up a hand. “I do not accept payment from you,” he said firmly. “I have explained before that this is a mechanic thing. No mechanic in the world would accept payment for such a chance. If anything, I should pay you.”

“An honest mechanic,” the Doctor smiled, “sometimes the world is a lovely place. Anyway, I believe you have a much loved white van needing some help?”

Mr. J L B Matekoni turned to his wife’s troubled van. “Eh Rra...although this time I think even I cannot fix it.”

The Doctor rubbed his hands together. “I always did like a challenge. If we can patch up an ailing time machine together, I think one white van can be nursed into health for a little longer.”

The End.

Author’s Notes:

Thought I’d give a rough guide to the Botswana words used and pronunciation. Anyone who has read the books is probably familiar with them, but for those that aren’t:

Mma/Rra – Madam/Sir (said ‘Mar’ and ‘Rar’)

Dumela - Hello (Doo-mail-a)

Ko ko! – probably the closest description is ‘yoo hoo!’ (said, as the Doctor says, ‘cocoa’ but the accent makes it sound less like a beverage)

Eh – Yes (From what I can tell its like ‘Ayer’ a sort of back of the throat sound)

Gaborone – city in Botswana (said Ha-ba-rone-ee from what I can gather)

I’m sure you didn’t need it, but there you go!

Thank you for reading – I would love your opinions on how well I’ve tackled the characterisation and Alexander McCall Smith’s unusual style – and most importantly whether you think it worked!

I actually would quite like to expand this fic into a proper doctor adventure featuring the whole Detective gang as well and showing the doctor’s first visit to Mr. J L B Matekoni...any opinions on that?

100 Questions

Sun, 22 Feb 2009 11:32:01 GMT

1. ONE OF YOUR SCARS, HOW DID YOU GET IT?
Burn on my wrist from the oven.

2. WHAT IS ON THE WALLS IN YOUR ROOM?
Bedroom - Marilyn Monroe and Betty Boop Posters, Living Room - 1920s Retro Scweppes Print Adverts, Office - 1920s posters and Doctor Who posters.

3. DO YOU SNORE, GRIND YOUR TEETH, OR TALK IN YOUR SLEEP?
None, except when I have a cold.

4. WHAT TYPE OF MUSIC DO YOU LISTEN TO?
Loads of types - Pop, Disco, Retro, Soundtracks, Rock, Indie, etc.

5. DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME YOU WERE BORN?
Err...late afternoon sometime.

6. WHAT DO YOU WANT MORE THAN ANYTHING RIGHT NOW?
To have the washing up done already? To feel better? To be a size 10?

7. WHAT DO YOU MISS
Having a big family - now there's only mum, dad, and my friends. No one else left.

8. WHAT IS YOUR MOST PRIZED POSSESSION?
My computer or my iPod.

9. HOW TALL ARE YOU?
5ft 1

10. DO YOU GET CLAUSTROPHOBIC?
Not at all.

11. DO YOU GET SCARED IN THE DARK?
Not really - only if I get a scary idea in my head after watching something.

12. THE LAST THING TO MAKE YOU CRY?
Uh...can't remember. Being in one of my dark moods probably.

13. WHAT’S YOUR WORST FEAR?
Dying young and/or never falling in love or having a family.

14. WHAT KIND OF HAIR/EYE COLOR DO YOU LIKE ON THE OPPOSITE SEX?
Don't mind.

15. WHERE CAN YOU SEE YOURSELF BEING PROPOSED TO AT?
Probably something quite unromantic - but then I'm not a hearts and flowers girl.

16. COFFEE OR ENERGY DRINK?
Energy drink

17. FAVORITE PIZZA TOPPING?
Pepperoni or Hawiaan

18. IF YOU COULD EAT ANYTHING RIGHT NOW, WHAT WOULD IT BE?
Chocolate or Cake

19. FAVORITE COLOR OF ALL TIME?
Used to be pink, then blue, now orange

20. HAVE YOU EVER EATEN A GOLDFISH?
No!

21. WHAT WAS THE FIRST MEANINGFUL GIFT YOU’VE EVER RECEIVED?
Um I'm not good at that sort of thing...probably the gold necklace that belonged to my grandmother that I got for my 18th.

22. DO YOU HAVE A CRUSH?
Kind of but not seriously. I'm not interested in persuing it.

23. ARE YOU DOUBLE JOINTED?
No

24. FAVORITE CLOTHING BRAND?
Don't pay attention to brands, you should like the clothing rather than the name.

25. WHO IS THE HOTTEST MALE CELEBRITY?
David Tennant

26. DO YOU HAVE A PET RIGHT NOW?
No but I miss my cat Gus

28. WOULD YOU FALL IN LOVE KNOWING THAT THE PERSON IS LEAVING?
Probably - I'd like to fall in love.

30. SAY A NUMBER FROM ONE TO A HUNDRED:
8

31. BLONDES OR BRUNETTES?
Brunettes - though I wouldn't mind seeing if blondes have more fun.

34. HAVE YOU BEEN OUT OF THE UK?
Yes - France and Germany

35. YOUR WEAKNESSES?
Chocolate

36. MET ANYONE FAMOUS?
Terry Pratchett (in a shop), Gordon Ramsey (he was filming outside my work), and saw Tom Baker from a distance.

37. FIRST JOB?
Office Junior

38. EVER DONE A PRANK CALL?
No

39. DO YOU THINK EVERYONE OUT THERE HAS A SOULMATE?
It's a lovely idea but I think there's plenty of people you can be happy with.

40. WHAT WERE YOU DOING BEFORE YOU FILLED THIS OUT?
Trying to decide what to do.

41. HAVE YOU EVER HAD SURGERY?
Not plastic. Had my tonsils out when I was 5.

42. WHAT DO YOU GET COMPLIMENTED ABOUT MOST?
Um...my eyes/smile

43. HAVE YOU EVER HAD BRACES?
No

44. WHAT DO YOU WANT FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY?
Nothing as I'm getting a holiday. Although I wouldn't mind a 'Keep Calm and Carry On' poster or the books in the No 1 Ladies Detective series I've not read yet.

45. HOW MANY KIDS DO YOU WANT?
I'd like a big family because I know how lonley it can be when it's just you. At least two.

46. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?
Yes - my nan heard some woman calling her child Emma-Louise and liked the sound of the hyphenated name.

47. WHAT IS THE BIGGEST TURN OFF OF THE OPPOSITE SEX?
Lying/Playing Games - I like straightforward people who just tell it like it is and don't dress it up with meaning or lies.

48. WHAT IS ONE THING YOU MISS ABOUT PRIMARY SCHOOL?
I loved Pot Kiln so quite a lot - but as an adult I miss 9 to 3 days!

49. WHAT KIND OF SHAMPOO DO YOU USE?
Herbal Essences, an M&S one, or any one I like the look of.

50. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?
When I'm trying, then yes.

51. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT?
Uh...turkey or a meat paste.

52. ANY BAD HABITS?
Nail biting, procrastinating, being messy, etc, etc.

53. ARE YOU A JEALOUS PERSON?
I can be, yes.

54. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?
Sometimes yes but I think I might be too much work.

55. WHAT DO YOU HATE?
Prejudice and people who don't want to try their hardest or learn.

56. DO LOOKS MATTER?
Yes - people form opinions based on looks. However not having good looks can be a test of character because you have to fight that first opinion. Having looks could also be one because you have to make sure people like you for more than looks.

57. HOW DO YOU RELEASE ANGER?
I moan and complain a lot. I also scream, kick, and throw stuff.

59. WHAT’S YOUR MAIN GOAL IN LIFE?
To write a book. Also to get a high level of education.

60. WHAT WAS YOUR FAVORITE TOY AS A CHILD?
Barbie!

61. HOW MANY NUMBERS ARE IN YOUR CELL PHONE?
Don't really use one - probably about 15.

62. WERE YOU A FAN OF BARNEY AS A LITTLE KID?
Ugh no. After my time - I did like Sesame Street.

63. DO YOU USE SARCASM?
A bit.

64. MASHED POTATOES OR MACARONI AND CHEESE?
Ooh...both but I prefer mash.

65. WHAT DO YOU LOOK FOR IN A GUY/GIRL?
Dorkiness!

66. WHAT ARE YOUR NICKNAMES?
Em - bit obvious.
Emmylou (my Grandad was a country fan)
Emmy (because of Emmyloy)
Nemmy-Nem (used by my nan and now by Kayleigh)
The Pink and Fluffy (by my Black and Spikey Sister by Another Mother Kayleigh)
The Onion (Also by Kayleigh - because you have to work through a lot of layers to really get to know me)

68. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE TV SHOW?
Doctor Who, The X-Files, Ashes to Ashes, Lark Rise top Candleford, Bones, Mock the Week, QI, and loads more.

69.WHAT’S THE BEST WAY TO DEAL WITH YOUR ENEMIES?
Not to listen to what they say.

70. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM FLAVOR?
Cookie Dough

71. DO YOU HAVE ALL YOUR FINGERS AND TOES?
*counts* Yeah.

72. DO YOU HAVE A COMPUTER IN YOUR ROOM?
In my office.

73. PLANS FOR TONIGHT?
Watching Lark Rise and Being Human and feeling sick.

74. WHAT’S THE FASTEST YOU’VE EVER GONE IN A CAR?
Driving myself - about 75 mph. Being driven about 85 mph.

75. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO ANSWER THESE QUESTIONS?
Yes.

76. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO?
Hot n Cold by Katy Perry

77. LAST THING YOU DRANK?
Options Hot Chocolate (Vanilla)

78. LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?
Debbie

79. THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE IN THE OPPOSITE SEX?
Build

80. WHAT DO U LIKE TO DO IN YOUR SPARE TIME?
Read, write, listen to music, go on internet.

81. FAVORITE THING TO HATE?
Time and the lack of it.

82. FAVORITE MONTH OF THE YEAR?
November! Everything good happens in November.

83. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE TYPE OF CANDY?
Chocolate stuff.

84. HAVE YOU EVER REALLY AND TRULY HAD A BEST FRIEND?
I'm blessed with two. Kayleigh (10 years this year) and Louise (16 years but with an 8 year break in the middle)

85. WHAT IS YOUR HAIR COLOR?
Red

86. EYE COLOR?
Grey

88. FAVOURITE FAST FOOD PLACE?
MacDonalds - but I've banned myself. It's been 3 years now...

89. FAVORITE RESTAURANT?
I like pub food. The one on the way to Bury is nice.

90. DO YOU LIKE SUSHI?
Love it.

91. LAST THING YOU WATCHED?
The news.

92. FAVORITE DAY OF THE YEAR?
November 1st.

93. PLAY ANY MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS?
No - although I learnt a little Saxaphone.

94. REPUBLICAN OR DEMOCRAT?
Deomcrat *huggles Obama*

95. KISSES OR HUGS?
Hugs.

96. RELATIONSHIPS OR ONE NIGHT STANDS?
Both have advantages. Long term relationships are obviously healthier and better for the soul. One night stands have the advantage of not having to be yourself.

97. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU BOUGHT?
Petrol

98. DO YOU HAVE A LOW SELF ESTEEM OR A HIGH SELF ESTEEM?
Very low.

99. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING?
Just (fifteen minutes ago) finished Morality for Beautiful girls. Might work on Little Dorrit next or a Doctor Who one.

100. DID YOU GO TO SLEEP WITH A SMILE ON YOUR FACE LAST NIGHT?
No...felt too sick.

The Naked Truth 3 of 4

Sat, 14 Feb 2009 18:30:29 GMT

Title: The Naked Truth (3 of 4)

Author: Emmylou/EmmyAngua

Disclaimer: Ashes to Ashes, Life on Mars, and the characters therein belong to the BBC and Kudos.

Rating: PG-15 (swearing, nudity)

Summary: A Mexican standoff about a case leads to Alex and Gene playing a game involving truth and stripping. The last one clothed gets the case resolution they want, but to get it they’ve got to answer some very personal questions...

Author’s Notes: Short chapter today. Hopefully a fun one though.

---

“So where’s this daughter you keep banging on about?” he cut in, going straight for the kill.

Alex paused. “A long way away.”

“If that’s the kind of bollocks answer you’re planning to give you can just strip now.”

Oh god, she thought, that was why playing this game wasn’t such a good idea in this world. When she was 19 her only secrets were about what the most depraved thing she’d ever done in bed (it involved non police issue handcuffs, a dice, and a pillow) and which Wet Wet Wet singer she’d fuck (Marti). Now she had big secrets and she knew she’d have to risk lying or loose.

She had (she calculated), six items of clothing; her shirt, skirt, stockings, shoes, pants, and bra. He already had an advantage, his tie giving him seven.

There was nothing for it. She’d have to try and lie – even if it meant getting caught out and loosing an item. Her only option was to hit him with more awkward questions than he did her. Her inner psychologist smiled - no problem there.

“She’s with her father and step-mother. They fought for custody...I’m not allowed to see her.”

It wasn’t a total lie. It had happened, back in 2008 and they’d lost. Without Evan on her side, who knew where Molly would be now.

She carefully looked at his face – it was stony. She needed to push it up a gear to convince him and so she spoke honestly, from the heart. “It seems so far away now...I thought life wouldn’t get any worse for me than that. How wrong I was...”

She looked at the vodka, suddenly wanting another shot. She poured one; even knowing it was stupid to incapacitate herself so early in the game.

“Are you going to ask me a question then or not?” he asked sharply.

“What? Oh...” She stumbled over the words as she choked her drink down. She knew she had to strike hard early on, but she hadn’t got around to thinking anything up. “Uh...one word answer. Who do you like best...me or Sam?”

He looked down at her again, with that stony face. Then he reached up and tugged at his tie. A moment later he tossed it onto the table.

Stunned at her strike on such a hastily thought up question, she bit back a smile. “I’ll try not to be offended.”

He finished gulping down the Vodka shot and fired back almost instantly. “Who would you rather shag? Me or Sam?”

Alex actually laughed at that one. “You,” she raised her glass at him. “No question about that. But as my last husband tried to steal my daughter...perhaps I shouldn’t trust my gut instinct anymore.” She said that last leaning in at him and speaking conspiratorially.

Again he hid his expression from her. He looked as blank as in any poker game. She hoped, though, she’d shocked him just a little.

Some time later, it was still Gene – 0, Alex – 1. She tried to push him on the sexual angle. He wasn’t afraid of talking about sex, but rarely went past blatant innuendo to her actual face. Hopefully she’d hit a nerve pushing him to go further...

“Last sexual fantasy?”

He smirked. “You won’t beat me on that score, luv. It was you on the hood of the Quattro. Old standby, that one.”

She bit back her peal of laughter. She needed to unsettle him to keep ahead. Instead, she raised an eyebrow coldly. “Really? How very professional of you.”

“So what was your maiden name then Bolly?”

Shiiiit. There was no escape from that one. He’d know she was lying if she made something up – who had to think to remember their maiden name? And there was no way in the world she could tell him it was Price.

She slowly unbuttoned her blouse, vaguely hoping that choosing something revealing early on would distract him from his game. He looked surprised, and she wondered whether it was over her choice of clothing or him scoring on such an easy question.

She leaned forward across the coffee table. “Tell me about something embarrassingly soft-hearted you’ve done.”

And the game continued...

---

A/N: Right, well I know it was short but this story was only ever meant to be split into two parts – but when I came to post on LJ it said it was too long. As a result splitting it in a sensible place makes this part shorter.

Hopefully you thought it was a fun chappie though (and in character, something - again – that is bothering me far too much in this story.) Please let me know!

Next time Alex get’s grilled about her connection to Sam and all those other things that make her seem crazy – will she loose or lie? He’s going to have to open up a bit...and the winner is announced!

Writer's Block: Rare Condition

Fri, 13 Feb 2009 20:29:54 GMT

Do you suffer from paraskevidekatriaphobia or know anyone who does?

View 500 Answers

I don't suffer from it (and today, as days go, has been pleasant enough - dare I say good).

However I do have a fun Fri 13th story. It happened about ten years ago at school. I hope I'm not weird in this, but I have a favourite bathroom cubicle (you know - one you always go into if free - other people do that right?)

Ok, well, I went to the bathroom on Fri 13th and there - in front of the cubicle - was an open ladder. No one was around, and to go in I would have had to walk underneath it.

I guess you won't be surprised I didn't use that cubicle!

My First First

Tue, 10 Feb 2009 21:57:34 GMT

I feel this should be celebrated!

Today I got my results back for all my work done over my first term of Uni. Our first year we only have to pass, results don't count, and so the pressure is off a bit.

The marking system is as follows (a rough and ready guide for those not familiar with the system)

First Class

1st* (exceptional)
1st (amazing)

Second Class

2.1 + (very high standard)
2.1 = (very good)
2.1 - (good)

2.2 + (some good points but not fabulous)
2.2= (average)
2.2- (ok but poor)

Third Class

3rd Class (Just passing)

It's been my aim to get a first (even just once) from day one, but I was told that it's unlikely we'll start getting firsts until 2nd year. Today I got my results back...(you can see where this is heading;)

The lowest result I got was a 2.2-
The highest....a lower 1st!!!!

Can't believe I did it in the first term!

Original Fic

Fri, 06 Feb 2009 22:46:16 GMT

Story Name: Four Moments Between Luke and Miranda
Character Number: from this ship-a-week, characters 1 and 4, Luke Jessop and Miranda Dormley (@ characteraday )
Rating: G
Summary: Four moments in which they'd built a friendship, needed each other, and just considered taking things further.
Disclaimer: All mine (do you know how good it is to write that after a life of fic?). The character's looks (not that they are mentioned) are based on David Tennant and Keeley Hawes in Ashes to Ashes.
Author's Notes: Thanks to dangerousdame for the fic idea of writing four drabbles based on songs from iPod shuffle.

Song 1 Magic Works from the HP soundtrack.

"Stay away from me!" Ronnie Rickwood was an angry man. He was alone and running out of options. Any second now, Miranda would cuff him and arrest him for the murder of his wife and brother. Ten years, he'd hidden the crime. Ten years he'd had to dread this day - and scare himself with thoughts of life in prison. The hunted look when she'd first introduced herself had been unmistakeable.

She'd given no thought at all to driving over to his farm and arresting him, while Luke was arranging the second body's excavation. He was still new to the team - and a new partner to her. She wanted to size him up first before they did something like this together - and so she hadn't exactly told him where she'd gone. Besides, if he was smart, he'd figure it out.

But now she was all alone in a barn, just her and Rickwood. She was unarmed, he was waving a heavy spade in a 'get back!' movement. Embarassingly enough, she was holding her hands up as though he was pointing a gun at her.

"Mr. Rickwood...you are under arrest..."

She never got chance to finish - he brought the spade down and smashed the side of her head with it. Her jaw exploded with pain and she dropped to the floor - she tried to prepare herself to roll away from a second blow.

"Miranda!"

It was Luke. He'd come...

Within seconds he was behind Rickwood, had cuffed him, and was kneeling by her side to look at her jaw. If she could have moved her mouth, she would have said the only thought in her head; "You are smart."

Later, in hospital (a night's observation), he brought her an embarassingly large teddy bear and sat with her for the whole visting time. They managed to carry on a surprisingly good conversation considering one of them couldn't talk.

Before he'd left he hugged her, not seeming to care whether DIs were supposed to hug their DCIs. She laid back in bed, pleased at the partnership that had been born, and yet somehow worried and where it might take them.

---

Song 2 Walk This Sleigh - Robbie Williams

When it came to the Christmas Party Luke thought that the girls had it. For the men all it involved was throwing a fresh suit on and arranging the taxi home. But for women there were dresses, make-up, hair, shoes, and handbags to be discussed - not to mention reviewing all the gossip from last year before it started again. Miranda (normally refreshingly un-girly) was not immune and he had heard at length about her two dress choices. The blue - short and spangly - with the gold braclets and knee length dressy boots, or the red - also short but with a high neck and silky - and gold heels. Would her curly hair be better up - because she never wore it up normally - or might it all fall apart and therefore would be safer down?

He'd listened with a secret thrill that she was asking for his advice - he'd hinted that the blue sounded very nice, and down probably would be safer. Indeed, he was secretly thrilled about the whole night to come. Most people were dreading it - but it was his first Christmas party with Miranda (no partners were allowed) and the attendance would be so large that they wouldn't really have to mingle much. Plus there would be a free bar - always a winner.

By seven he'd made his arrangements (shower, fresh-suit, hair-gel, taxi) and was standing in The Mill Hotel talking to DS Markham about DS Markham's charity work over Christmas. There weren't many women here yet - their arrangements were no doubt more complicated. The only annoying this was the volume of music - so loud that it needed to be shouted over.

"WHAT?" he replied for the third time.

"I said CANCER," Markham shouted (still talking about his hospital visit dressed as Santa).

At seven-thirty Miranda appeared in the doorway along with eight or nine other glammed up women. His breath (not normally short) all but dissapeared in his lungs. She was wearing the red (silky, high-necked), with an up-do. Her legs more than made up for the high neck and she looked twice as pretty for the difference in her hair. She sought him out and she was soon at his side accompanied by a waft of perfume and a hastily picked-up glass of champagne.

"You didn't go for the blue then," he said, dissapointed slightly that she hadn't cared for his opinion and yet not paticularly sorry that she'd chosen what she had.

"Nah..." she gulped at her glass. "Too tarty. Let's dance."

---

Song 3 You're the Boss - Brian Setzer and Gwen Stefani

The thing about having a female boss...

The thing about having a female boss was...

Well it was embarassing. A bit. If Luke had been saying this out loud, he would have hastily thrown up his hands to his listener. Not that women shouldn't be bosses. That wasn't it at all. But it was just...just... he would have paused, trying to think of how to plough ahead with out being a chauvinist.

It was like his conversation with his brother, Adam. "What's your new boss like?" Adam has asked.

"She's nice," he'd replied, without thinking.

Adam had smirked. "She? How old?"

Here, Luke had a legitimate reason for embarassment. Despite being considered quite a mover and shaker in the force, the fact remained that Miranda was three years younger than him. "About my age."

""Done her yet?"

And that was it. That was the embarassing thing. People assumed - or even worse they asked. It never failed to fluster him. He wasn't. They weren't...she'd never. He - well, he would, but that was another matter entirely. Besides - he had Chloe, and she had Dan.

"No," he replied. He'd intended to make it sound final - a never-to-be-considered scenario. A reproach to his brother for suggesting it. Instead he just sounded morose.

"Not too late, bro'. Never too late."

---

Song 4- My Lover's Gone by Dido

There was only the lamp in the corner fighting off the darkness. Miranda would normally have read, or worked, or listened to Classic FM with a glass of wine at a time like this. Perhaps, she thought morosley, if she'd cuddled up with her boyfriend on the sofa more he might not have left her. Her only concession to her normal routine was the large glass of red wine she was gulping down.

There hadn't been any arguements, they'd lived side-by-side quite happily. God, she'd even boasted about it 'Dan and I never fight." Would a few blazing rows have cleared the air and kept them together?

She'd come home as normal, talking excitedly about some strange fact Luke had told her on the ride home, and he'd just been waiting in the kitchen. He wasn't sitting, just leaning against the counter with a serious look.

"Listen..." he said eventually. "I can't do this anymore."

There still hadn't been a row, he'd just packed up his stuff and left her sitting on the sofa in the dim light. She was now a single person - she'd have to find dates for parties and stay with her parents at Christmas and live the trappings of solo life again.

Her mobile bleeped and she opened the message. Hi...u ok? Lke.

He fingers flew over the keypad as she replied. No. Dan left.

She tossed the phone onto the armchair. Luke would come over, probably with food. Things would be ok.

The End

Fri, 06 Feb 2009 16:03:56 GMT

How ironic is this?

I work for Marks and Spencer and have just been made redundant because of their much publicised loss of 1000 jobs (we worked it out and with the amount of people they employ I had a 1 in 70 chance of loosing my job - talk about rough luck.)

Anyway - for the last three weeks people have been continually asking about it - when do you close? Are you all loosing your jobs? When do the discounts start? And in answering ('don't know', 'probably', and 'piss off' respectively) my grin has been getting ever more forced.

They've kept us hanging on while we waited for find out when we were closing - and at length, I found out today.

12th March.

My BLOODY BIRTHDAY.

Writer's Block: Table for One

Tue, 03 Feb 2009 20:45:24 GMT

Do you ever go out to dinner (at a sit-down restaurant) by yourself?

View 500 Answers

No. Cafes and stuff, then yes. But I can't think of a single occasion where I've had a full meal alone - no even when waiting for someone. Guess I'm not as much of a loner as I thought - but then again, I don't eat out often anyway.

The Naked Truth 2 of 4

Tue, 03 Feb 2009 11:27:48 GMT

Title: The Naked Truth (2 of 4)

Author: Emmylou/EmmyAngua

Disclaimer: Ashes to Ashes, Life on Mars, and the characters therein belong to the BBC and Kudos.

Rating: PG-15 (swearing, nudity)

----

As always, the mood as Luigi’s was comfortable as people laid aside thoughts of work in favour of getting pissed. The only person to think of Bobby Hadleigh here, among the clinking glasses and smell of pasta sauce, was the only copper who didn’t go off duty. Gene sat waiting for Bolly to peel herself away from an in-depth talk with Shaz and join him.

“So it’s like truth or dare...” Shaz said.

Alex sloshed more white into both glasses and shook her head. “No – well yeah – kind of. Someone asks you a question, and you have to answer truthfully. If you won’t or can’t answer, you have to take a piece of clothing off. Last one wearing something wins...”

They giggled in an obnoxiously girly way. “Who thought that up?” asked Shaz wondrously.

Alex prodded her own chest proudly. “Me. Used to play it all the time back at Uni. I always won too!”

“’Cause you’re truthful?” asked Chris. He’d just failed at persuading Ray to lend him a ciggie and dropped down into the seat next to Shaz.

Alex shook her head again and took another glug of wine. “Nope. Although I am – truthful, that is.”

“But then,” Chris had a knack for unthreading a conversation. “You might be lying now.” Alex stared blankly (or rather, drunkly) back at him.

Ray joined them and she took this distraction as a chance to set the conversation back on its tracks. “I’m not lying, any way, the point is...this point is that I’ve got no shame.”

Even Gene, who’d dismissed the conversation as complete and utter balls couldn’t let that opportunity go. “Most sensible thing you’ve said all night Bolly. Now why don’t you follow that up by sensibly buying me a drink.”

Chris and Ray hooted with laughter, Shaz dissolved into giggles.

“With the game,” Alex pressed, more loudly for Gene’s benefit. “I’m not afraid of embarrassing myself.”

“Let’s play!” said Shaz loudly. She had been working her way through the considerable amount of wine Alex kept doling out to her.

“The chance to see you two with your tits out?” said Ray, “I’m in.”

Alex leaned back in her seat, filled with the glorious brilliance of the idea. She was still sober enough to know that it would be a horrific memory tomorrow morning, but then so what? She never lost so it wouldn’t be horrific for her.

“In front of everyone?” asked Chris, alarmed.

“Signor -” Luigi filled Gene’s proffered glass and looked at him pleadingly. “Please – tell them – no naked games in here.”

Gene clapped his friend on the shoulder and waded in before his team scarred the patrons of Luigi’s (and Luigi) for life.

“Right you lot – Bolly here is going to bed before she encourages anyone to get naked, steal a traffic cone, or do any other idiot thing that she thought up in university.”

“What?” she demanded. “You can’t send me to bed! You’re not the boss of me!”

“I’m sorry Chief Inspector – I must have missed that promotion you got, cause the last time I looked, you’ve still got DI written on your badge” he said, lifting her to her feet and steering her across the restaurant.

Alex snatched a bottle of vodka off a nearby table as she was manhandled past it. “Fine,” she said, waving it at him. “But you’re paying for this bottle!” She took a swig.

“Withholding information, public drunkenness, and theft – all in one day Bolls. Be glad you aren’t adding public nudity to that list.”

They staggered up the steps and into her flat. She wasn’t hammered, so much as pissed off, and by the time they were at the door she was passing for sober (or so she apparently thought). She shrugged his hands away let herself in. The way the door was left thrown open meant he was expected to follow and soon he was sunk into her impossibly comfortable couch while she staggered around looking for glasses to drink from.

She moved around to the other side of the coffee table and dropped to her knees opposite him, where she poured them generous shots. “Cheers,” he said.

“Tosser,” she replied. “I haven’t been sent to bed since I was twelve.”

“I’ll put you to bed if you don’t shut up,” he snapped.

She tilted her head to one side, and for a moment he thought she was considering this offer. “Bobby Hadleigh,” she said suddenly.

He paused “What about him? He’s not getting off this charge.”

“Oh yeah,” she said as she scanned around to for good comeback, “...says you! Anyway – how about a bet?”

Her eyes twinkled up at him and he tried to pull himself together. Home. He needed to go home....

“What on? The size of your hangover?”

“Bobby. Hadleigh,” she prodded the table with each word. “Good old Boris. If I win, he gets off with a caution and protection. If you win - ”

“I get the list, Hadleigh gets banged up, and I’ll have you handcuffed to my desk for a whole morning for withholding information.”

She squinted at him, no doubt thoroughly offended, but then smiled. “Fine...”

“What are we betting on?”

She leaned forward with a wide grin. “Who wins my game.”

Oh god, he thought. You’ve really done it now. No escape. Just you and her taking clothes off piece by piece by piece...

He picked up the Vodka and poured himself another. “We’re going to need this,” he said. “And let’s add Gene’s rule to your bloody game. Every time you lose, you take a drink.”

“A drinking game,” she purred. “That makes it all the better.”

“What if you lie?” he asked suddenly.

“Silly me...and here was I thinking I was in the presence of a copper who is...you know...trained to spot liars.”

“Why should I play?”

She leaned forward, accidentally giving him a great view of her tits. “Because there’s a whole bottle of Vodka. Because you might get a chance to finally understand your crazy DI a bit better. And because I’ll be taking my clothes off.

She sipped her drink.

“I could work through a bottle downstairs,” he grunted. “The day I or anyone else understands you is the day Chris joins Mensa. And-“

He paused, unable to think of a suitable reply to the last. She merely finished off her Vodka helping with a smug look.

“Gonna play then?”

He took his time lighting a cigarette. “Of course I am.”

---

A/N: Next time we’ll be getting into the questions (and nudity) of the game. Thanks for the great reviews last time and I’d love your opinions now.

Ashes to Ashes Fic

Fri, 30 Jan 2009 17:08:19 GMT

Title: The Naked Truth (1 of 4)

Author: Emmylou/EmmyAngua

Disclaimer: Ashes to Ashes, Life on Mars, and the characters therein belong to the BBC and Kudos.

Rating: PG-15 (swearing, nudity)

Author’s Notes: OK...this started as a little fantasy in my head and while such things would normally disappear by morning, it was still there the next day, and the next night, so I thought ‘bugger this for a game of soldiers, let’s get this thing on paper’.

---

There were many reasons why Alex didn’t think that the young man in front of her was a drug dealer – chief of which was the fact he looked like a teenage Boris Johnson. The resemblance was striking - a pudgy pink face, fluffy blond hair, and pale blue eyes.

They were in the interview room and Gene was stomping around trying to put the fear of god into the kid. It was working – the boy’s head was bowed so low that all Alex could see as she sat opposite was his hair, and he was so intimidated that he barely opened his mouth when speaking. The mumble, she thought, didn’t exactly detract from the Boris Johnson image.

She cut of Gene mid-shout. “Where’s your dad, Bobby?”

Bobby Hadleigh, seventeen, looked up in puzzlement. “W’t?”

“Your dad,” she repeated gently.

“Dead,” he muttered.

“When you were young?” she pressed.

“Y’h,” he replied. He bowed his head again.

“Right,” she said brightly. “That tells me everything I need to know.”

Gene had recovered from the sudden interruption and was now looking furious. “Oh does it?” he snapped at her.

Alex pushed back her seat and moved to the door. “Yes it does. Outside, please.”

Gene, looking very much as though he wasn’t sure which one of them he’d prefer to slap upside the head, stormed after her and slammed the door behind him. She settled against the wall as she always did at moments like these, he towered over her.

“What the hell was that about?” he snarled.

Alex smiled sweetly up at him and crossed her arms. “I was saving us time. All you’re doing is scaring him – that approach isn’t going to get us anywhere with him.”

She held up a hand before he could go into meltdown. “He’s grown up without any male influence. He’s not exactly Brad Pitt...uh...Jason Donovan and I doubt whether he was popular at school. Acting like the Uber-Bully-”

“Stop speaking German,” he snapped.

She huffed impatiently. ”Let me go in alone. He’ll open up to a gentle female presence.”

Gene’s face twisted in a way that said all too clearly how well he rated her gentle female presence, but she slipped past him and was already at the door before he replied.

“Five minutes Bolls,” he called, “then I’m coming in there and kicking the shit out of him!”

---

Alex couldn’t help but feel a thrill at how well it worked. All she’d had to do was smile at him and speak softly and he looked at her like she was the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel.

“I thought she was French ‘cause you don’t get girls like that over here. She did this amazing thing where....”

“So you met her on holiday in France?” Alex interrupted before the conversation dipped into the sexual fantasies of a seventeen year old.

“Yeah,” he said. “She was from London too. Said she wanted to meet up after the holiday...I thought she was having me on.”

Poor kid, though Alex. Low self esteem, wanted to be cool, a pretty girl flatters him...

“And the drugs?”

Bobby swallowed. “Well I thought she was having me on...so she said she’d give me her bag to take back to London. Then we’d have to meet up for her to get it back...I couldn’t believe anyone was so desperate to be around me...”

“You’re doing great,” Alex soothed. “A lot of great men have fallen for traps like that...don’t be ashamed.” Thank god Gene wasn’t here, she thought, he would have fallen on his arse laughing at this story.

“Anyway...I promised I wouldn’t look in the bag. But when we got home I was curious. I opened it up and it was just full of drugs.” He swallowed. “I panicked. When she phoned me to arrange to meet up, I said I wouldn’t go. Then this other man came on the phone – yelling at me – he said that he knew where I lived and that if I didn’t turn up with the bag he’d stab my mum while she slept and then me...” His voice became higher with fear.

“And?” pressed Alex.

“So I went...and suddenly there’s coppers everywhere and I get arrested. Everyone else got away.”

Alex, a mixture of sympathy and exasperation for the boy, leaned forward. “It’s very important that I find out that girl’s name, Bobby.”

“I can’t!” Bobbie almost wailed. “He said that if anyone found out that I’d brought drugs into the country I’d go to jail. He said he’d get his mates inside to skin me; and his mates outside to get my mum!”

He dissolved into tears, and Alex was in the bizarre situation of patting a Boris Johnson look-a-like on the arm. “Bobby...please...”

He looked up desperately. “I need protection,” he said. “Please – please help me.”

Alex, not sure how on earth she was going to persuade Gene Hunt to let this kid off drug smuggling charges and stump up protection, couldn’t help but nod.

---

Alex hadn’t expected Gene to be jumping for joy with the news, and it was (she thought bitterly) a credit to her profiling skills how well she had pegged his reaction to it.

“So let me get this straight,” he ranted. “You got him to confess all. You even got a name from him. But you aren’t going to tell anyone because you promised?!”

She followed him into the CID room and the team, recognising the argument as par for the course, barely looked at them. Ray didn’t even wake up.

Alex tried to explain. “A lot better men than him have fallen into honey-traps,” she said reasonably. “He didn’t know about the drugs – he was just a victim. And he’s agreed to give you names in exchange for protection.”

He threw his office door open, waited for her to come inside, and then slammed it behind him.

“I’m sorry – the last time I looked you were a copper, not a social worker! This whole station has been slaving over this case– people want to see an arrest!”

“Then isn’t it better they see the right person arrested?” she said hotly.

“No!” he snapped. “They want to see everyone arrested. If we let him off this then all we get for our work is a bunch of bullshit names this kid has made up.” He yanked his jacket off the back of his chair and shrugged it on. “Now I’m going down there to beat the information out of him –“

“Oh no you’re not!” she shouted. “Because I have it right here!” She held out a folded piece of paper. “You get it when you agree to the terms.”

Gene lunged for it but she jumped backwards, just out of reach. “I don’t think-” she began, but Gene didn’t give her time to finish. He opened the door and barked at Ray.

“In here! Now!”

Ray jerked awake and came inside, still bleary eyed. “Yes, Guv?”

He jerked his head at Alex, who fixed her most superior look on him. “Nick this one for withholding information – a couple of hours in the cells will give her chance to get her priorities straight and give me time to get rid of the massive headache known as Bolly-itus.”

Ray - clearly unsure how serious the Guv was - inched towards her. “Get off,” she snapped, slapping Ray’s hand away. “It’s not withholding information – it’s preventing you coming down like a tonne of bricks on an innocent kid.”

“Who smuggled a couple of thousand pounds worth of Coke across the channel!” Gene raged.

Alex could see that this Mexican standoff was going to go on for some time. The mature and reasonable thing to do would be to work on tracking down the person on the list she’d be given. A fresh collar might persuade Gene to go easy on the stupid but largely innocent boy.

Instead maturity went out of the window and she marched out of Gene’s office and back into CID. “Come on people. It’s six o’ clock,” she called. “Let’s knock back some drinks!”

There was a general cheer and clatter to get coats, keys, and (in Alex and Shaz’s case) handbags.

As the mass exodus continued she looked back at Gene, who stood in his door with a twisted expression, and called. “We’ll continue this tomorrow.”

A/N: In the end I’ve separated it into two parts so it’s not too long. I’m normally confident writing characters but I just have a bad feeling about this fic for some reason – so if you think they are in character please let me know.

And if you don’t know who Boris Johnson is (though I’m sure 99.99% do) um...google him. It’ll be...an education.

Feel free to check out my comms:

characteraday

characteratplay

itcouldjustbe

skinnyfor66

Writer's Block: Opposites Attract

Thu, 29 Jan 2009 17:46:47 GMT

What celebrity would you consider changing your sexual identity for?

View 503 Answers

Well, I may have a girlcrish on her, but I wouldn't go that far even for someone as brilliant as Catherine Tate.
To be honest, there aren't many male celebs who I'd shag either - I always think even meeting a celeb would ruin it for me.

So I'll list the 3 female celebs I find sexy instead - that good enough?

Keeley Hawes (Ashes to Ashes)
Alyson Hannigan (Buffy)
Eve Myles (Torchwood)

Calling All Ashes to Ashes Fans

Tue, 27 Jan 2009 21:49:57 GMT

I'm writing a fic that involves our leads Alex & Gene asking each other some very personal questions during a drinking game with a huge prize at stake...and I'm looking for questions that they can't answer and therefore have to forfeit over (or indeed some questions you think up that you'd like them to answer ).

I'm fine with them being candid over sexual stuff, but I'm thinking it's the truth about her past that might loose Alex the game. I've exhausted my supply - so some ideas would be great.

Yet another new comm from me (this one can manage itself though!)

Tue, 27 Jan 2009 21:27:27 GMT

itcouldjustbe

This comm encourages writers to think outside the box. You are encouraged to take something everyday and comm up with an alternative reason behind it - this could lead to a story or fic idea, or just make life a bit more interesting.

So say for example I saw a man kissing a woman as he left the house one morning. I would then post:

A man steps out of a terraced house wearing a suit. He has red hair and is carrying a suitcase. A woman in an african print dress with brown long hair follows him out and they kiss before he gets into the car and drives away.

It could just be: A husband kissing his wife goodbye on his way to work.

Then in the comments box I (and everyone else) can come up with much more interesting reasons;

But it is really: 2 undercover policemen watching the house next door.
But it is really: A man on his way to commit suicide after loosing his job and being unable to tell his wife.

You can be as outrageous and as detailed and off the wall as you like, you can create a whole plot with characters for it if you want. And you can post as many scenarios as you like (but one post for each scenario please) and feel free to link to any fics you create!

Sister Comm of: characteraday and characteratplay

Announcement!

Wed, 21 Jan 2009 19:16:43 GMT

For those of you who don't know, my parents have actually fufilled one of their pipe dream promises and are sending me on the trip of a lifetime - a 19 day tour of Route 66 by coach!

To get there, though, I want to loose a little weight. So I've started a comm- skinnyfor66 . So you can join me on my weighloss journey (if not my actual one!). Especially as my progress is being marked by a Doctor Who Avatar 'sticker' chart. :)

Doctor Who Meme

Wed, 14 Jan 2009 16:24:41 GMT

Stolen from ophelia_winters.

1. When did you start watching?
I started watching halfway through The End of the World. My mum was gutted because we missed the first ep nd made us watch even though we were visiting relatives that day. Really enjoyed what I saw/understood of it and wanted to watch the next.

1a. Why?
Well, I knew Who was huge back in the day and so I thought it would be hard to get into - but what I saw was fun and well written. 2. What was your first episode?
End of the World.

3. Which episodes have you seen?
All NuWho - haven't been able to afford old Who yet...

3a. Favourite?
Blugh...S1=Empty Child, S2=New Earth, S=3 Blink/Human Nature, S4= Partners in Crime, Fires of Pompeii, Unicorn and the Wasp, Turn Left. Plus the first two Christmas specials.

4. Are your friends/family interested in the show?
We are the most Who obsessed family in the country! My mum is the undisputed QUEEN of Who, having seen every single episode. EVER. My dad hasn't started a sentance in three years that doesn't begin 'I've got a theory about season whatever/torchwood/who the new doctor will be'. For season three we has a sign in our window saying VOTE SAXON! much to the puzzlement of our neighbours!

5. Which Doctor is your favourite?
10, then 9. 11 looks promising too.

6. Which Doctor is your least favourite?
None!

7. Which TV companion is your favourite?
Donna just because I fangirl her. BUT I adore Rose in every way too. And I didn't dislike Martha for that matter. And what about Jack?

8. Which TV companion is your least favourite?
The bar is pretty high (see above) so I'll just say Mickey because I didn't hate him but wasn't OMG!SQUEE about him.

9. Do you listen to the Big Finish audios?
No

9a. If so, which is your favourite?
N/A

9b. Also: which Big Finish companion is your favourite?
N/A

10. Have you listened to any non-Big Finish audios?
Yes...mostly one's I'd already read.

11. Have you read any of the novels or short stories?
Nearly all (excepting a few new ones and a couple with Martha)

11a. Have you written any of the novels or short stories?
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

11b. Which is your favourite?
Stone Rose, Feast of the Drowned, Only Human, and The Doctor Trap (BRILLIANT - read that one it's genius!)

12. Have you read any of the comics?
No.

13. Do you watch any of the spinoffs (e.g. Torchwood, Sarah Jane Adventures)?
Torchwood.

13a. Which is your favourite?
Torchwood.

14. Is there any particular episode/book/audio/comic you desperately want to watch/listen to/read?
Would like to see the film with Paul McGann, also want to read all the Donna books.

Fandom

1. Do you write fanfic for Doctor Who?
Er, yeah *shifts eyes*

1a. If so, post a snippet of a work-in-progress (or several)!

Writer's Block: Back to School

Wed, 14 Jan 2009 13:26:40 GMT

What fictional high school—from tv, film, or a book—would you most like to attend? Or would you rather never go near high school again, fictional or otherwise?

View 502 Answers

First Choice: Hogwarts (the magic, the excellent grounds, extensive library, and lack of physical education easily outweighing the sometimes erratic teaching quality and occasional invasions).

Second Choice: Sunnydale (A good all-rounder sterotypical american school - but the high chance of death and liklihood of it blowing up makes it a less popular choice.)

Mon, 05 Jan 2009 00:36:15 GMT

Come check me out on twitter: http://twitter.com/emmasamuel

Meme of the Year

Sun, 04 Jan 2009 23:49:08 GMT

1. What did you do in 2008 that you’d never done before? 

Lived Alone
Went to Uni
Went on a Hen Night
Saw a best friend get married.
(Big One) Kissed Someone
Been in a relationship.
Got dumped.
Got a major peircing.
Passed my driving test/Drove Alone
Worked in a shop.
Had a fringe (as an adult)

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?  The only one I remember is that I wouldn't go on the BBC Have Your Say Site because it was bad for my blood pressure. I mostly stuck to it.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?  No - but my friend is trying - so maybe next year.

4. Did anyone close to you die?  My granddad.

5. What countries did you visit?  N/A.

6. What would you like to have in 2009 that you lacked in 2008?  Real independance.

7. What was your biggest achievement of the year?  Going to Uni

8. What was your biggest failure?  Loosing contact with a close friend.

9. Did you suffer illness or injury?  Couple of colds, that's it.

10. What was the best thing you bought?  Uh...nothing very special for me.

11. Where did most of your money go?  Bills. Food.

12. What did you get really, really, really excited about?  My friend's wedding. Uni. Doctor Who.

13. Compared to this time last year, are you:  a) happier or sadder?  b) thinner or fatter?  c) richer or poorer?  Happier. Fatter. Poorer. (Odd that)

14. What do you wish you’d done more of?  Writing. Exercise.

15. What do you wish you’d done less of?  Working (when I could have been doing Uni stuff). Bitching.

16. What was the best book you read?  Ooh. Little Dorrit. E. The No 1 Ladies Detective Series. So many others.

17. What did you want and get?  A place of my own. Close friends/social network. A place at Uni.

18. What did you want and not get?  A first (working on that).

19. What kept you sane?  BBC News, LiveJournal

20. Who did you miss?  My grandparents, my best friend, people from my old job.

New Doctor

Sun, 04 Jan 2009 19:48:44 GMT

Well I wasn't expecting Matt Smith to be picked. I can't say I know much about him (having only seen the Ruby in the Smoke once, when it very first was shown).

However, unlike a large portion of the (frankly hysterical) fandom I quite like the look of him. Yes he's young - but if Stephen Moffat likes him, that can't be too big of an issue. Also - it's not like he's 21, he's 26. And he's unusual enough looks-wise not to be dismissed as a HAWT!YOUNG ACTOR who will have his shirt off in under 3 minutes.

So overall I'm impressed with the choice and look forward to the new series. Although I'll be hysterical at loosing DT, I'm hopeful about Matt.

Now bring back Donna!

Can I ask the world a favour?

Thu, 13 Nov 2008 19:07:03 GMT

Would someone somewhere PLEASE put this in mp3 format? I need this song on my iPod....funny as hell.

Writer's Block: If Wishes Were Horses

Wed, 12 Nov 2008 09:13:30 GMT

From shooting stars to stray eyelashes, there are a lot of ways to make a wish. What's your preferred method for asking favors from the universe?

Submitted By clamp_x

View 500 Answers

The only big yearly wish I make is my birthday wish when I blow out my candles.

Funnily enough, this year I can't remember what I wished for, but I have a funny feeling I got it.

Can't Speak

Wed, 29 Oct 2008 22:30:23 GMT

WAAAAAAIIIIIIIILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

Me on Me: An Up Close & Personal Interview

Wed, 29 Oct 2008 18:55:38 GMT

They say everybody writes a journal with the hope that someday, somebody will read it. I think most people in the explicitly-public LJ-land list interests in the hope that someday somebody will ask about them. This meme, like a dating service, turns all that hoping-somebody-will-ask into a straightforward request. Viva communication!

Leave a comment and I will choose 7 of your LJ profile interests for you to explain/write about.

</em></a> wanted me to write about the following: chick flicks, donna, sewing, vetinari, morgan/garcia, writer's block, sam vimes

Chick Flicks - I like chick flicks, okay, I admit it. I don't like action, horror, or much drama. I like to have fun, let my brain have a rest, eat some chocolate and sigh with the romance. That said, I don't like cheese. Favourites include When Harry Met Sally, 10 Things I Hate About You, You've Got Mail, Failure to Launch, Serendipity, Two Weeks Notice, Calender Girls, The Family Stone, etc. That said, I do like some serious films as well!

Donna - Where do I start? Donna Noble is my personal heroine! She (see my avatar and journal header) is the latest Doctor's assistant, played the the genius Catherine Tate. She's feisty, funny, she cares, she's older than the young women that usually accompany him, she doesn't fancy the Doctor and stands up to him far more, and she's special because she's so normal. Also she wants Doctor and Rose to be together. She also had the most tragic ending of any Doctor Who character - I can still barely talk about it - after travelling with him and finally finding what she was good at and happy doing, finally realising she was important and not just a temp, the Doctor was forced to wipe her memories and leave her with no knowledge of the adventures she had. [/fangirls]

Sewing - I'm quite into cross-stitch and hobby things like that. More recently I'm into knitting, but I might do a little cross-stitch over Christmas.

Vetinari - Vetinari is the tyrant of the Discworld city Ankh-Morpork. Despite being a tyrant he's the cleverest man in Discworld and rules the city with perfect control. He knows that ruling a city isn't about giving people change - it's about making sure that tomorrow is pretty much the same as today. Any passage with Vetinari in sizzles with genius. Sort of like watching Steven Fry.

Morgan/Garcia - My favourite Criminal Minds ship. Garcia is the wildly dressed geeky tech girl with glasses and a sharp comment. Morgan is the hadsome sex-god of the BAU. Together they have the cheekiest phone conversations allowed on television and a real friendship. Fave line: Morgan (after not getting what he wants): "I thought you said this was the office of supreme genius?" Garcia: "Well you've just been transferred to the office of too-frickin-bad."

Writer's Block - Not really an interest - more a state of being!

Sam Vimes - Another Discworld character. He's a straight talking copper who went from being one of a band of four down-and-out watchmen to marrying the richest woman in the city, becoming a Duke, becoming a dad, and bringing law to the lawless city. All while never forgetting his humble beginnings and pissing off most of the rich people in the city. He and Vetinari have a strange sort of friendship that is just genius on the page...

Nano Plot

Mon, 27 Oct 2008 15:24:26 GMT

I finally have one. AND art.

In 1939 the government asked for ordinary people to write in with journal entries detailing their lives in a programme named Mass Observation. Inspired by the real diarists - Nellie Last, Pam Ashford, Christopher Tomlin, Maggie Joy Blunt, and many others - From the Home Front follows the lives of four ordinary people;

Lyle Salt - a newly married man who is ashamed of being unable to fight due to his partial blindness.

Trudy Gowans - a people-watching bus-conductress from the city.

Helen Pernell - a housewife who takes in a lodger after her entire family is fighting or evacuated.

Geordy Hurst - a middle-aged country vicar trying to prevent his son's romance with a wild Land Army girl.

The novel not only details their entries - but also takes us behidn the scenes into their lives - showing us the things they didn't write about, and the thoughts and fears they weren't able to send into a government project.

From the Home Front offers an honest look at ordinary people in extraordinary times - and at WW2 from the perspective of people who really don't know what will happen to them next.

Emmylou's Fiction

Writer's Block: GIP (Gratuitous Icon Post)

Of Tiny White Vans and Time Machines

100 Questions

The Naked Truth 3 of 4

Writer's Block: Rare Condition

My First First

Original Fic

Writer's Block: Table for One

The Naked Truth 2 of 4

Ashes to Ashes Fic

Writer's Block: Opposites Attract

Calling All Ashes to Ashes Fans

Yet another new comm from me (this one can manage itself though!)

Announcement!

Doctor Who Meme

Writer's Block: Back to School

tweet

Meme of the Year

New Doctor

Can I ask the world a favour?

Writer's Block: If Wishes Were Horses

Can't Speak

Me on Me: An Up Close & Personal Interview

Nano Plot