willow_25 | Something to keep me occupied

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If you have a fandom (TV, book, movie; I don't do comic books or anime), please send me a challenge request, and I will attempt to write you a little something, while I can't work on anything else. The challenge can be: elements to work into a short story, characters to write into a scene, etc. If you have no fandom preferences, or I am not familiar with your fandom, beware; it will most likely end up as BtVS, X-Files, or something else TV related.

Help! Need something to write; please?

Current Mood: creative

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From:

willow-25.livejournal.com

Elizabeth Darcy froze at the sound of her husband's voice. He'd left the house several hours earlier, with a harsh reminder that she was to do nothing more taxing than sit on the divan during his absence.

Honestly, she was pregnant, not dispeptic.

She'd ignored him, of course. Truly, there was nothing taxing at all involved in sitting at a desk and making a few quick notations on the translation she'd been doing as a mental exercise. Elizabeth looked at the folscap, quills, and books piled around her, and the distance to the divan.

He would be insufferable for the rest of the day if he caught her like this.

In a panic, she rushed to gather up the materials, smearing some of the notes in her haste, and cramming everything into her roll-top desk. It didn't close exactly, but with the chair proping it up, you really couldn't tell. She'd just settled herself with a blanket over her lap, and closed her eyes to feign sleep, when her husband entered the room.

Because, of course, she was pretending to sleep, she didn't see the pleased expression on his face, and the way he stepped lightly across the floor to avoid waking her. She never saw his eyes fix on the chair, couldn't warn him away as he crossed the room, intending to pull the chair closer to his sleeping wife.

She did, however, hear the crash as months of careful study landed on her husband's boots.

Darcy screamed as a French dictionary broke his foot, shooting Elizabeth out of her fake-slumber, and sending servants rushing into the room.

"Elizabeth!" Darcy screamed as two of the houseboys and the butler carried him up the stairs. "What in the name of God was half the library doing in your desk?!"

Elizabeth could feel herself turning bright red, but forged ahead bravely. "Now, husband, that's no way to speak to me in my delicate condition. This excitement does no good to either of us."

Darcy groaned, knowing he would never get a straight answer out of her.