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graycardinal********************
a Kim Possible story
by Gray Cardinal
copyright 2005
PG
********************
Written for Seanan (aka![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cadhla), as a late entry in the Yuletide Treasure NYR Challenge. Kim Possible and related characters belong to Disney, and are hereby borrowed without ill intent.
1 • Slave to the Muffins
Kim Possible scooted her chair backward, stretched her left arm as far behind her as she could, and snagged the Kimmunicator lying on the foot of her bed. “That should do it for tonight, Wade,” she said. “I just uploaded the last four cases.”
“Got ‘em,” said the quart-sized computer genius, his hands still flying over his keyboard even as he turned his head toward the video pickup. “I’ll have the new batch for you tomorrow.”
Kim yawned, clicked the Kimmunicator off, and tossed it into the arms of an oversized plush Kanga. Saving the world from Dr. Drakken and Monkey Fist, she reflected, was easy compared to solving people’s mundane business and personal problems – but without the bankroll of favors she built up by applying common sense to the overcomplicated, there’d be no way for her to pursue her crime-fighting career.
At least this evening’s assignments had been relatively simple. A call to Nana had enabled her to work out the secret ingredient in an old family applesauce cookie recipe, she’d deduced the whereabouts of a world-famous stage magician’s missing lockpicks after ten minutes of skilled questioning over the phone, and a few minutes of data-wrangling from Wade would resurrect a popular TV show’s crashed SFX computer. The call from Ty Pennington, who needed a way to demolish a seemingly indestructible house for his latest Extreme Makeover: Home Edition project, had taken the most finesse – she’d had to get her parents’ permission to send her twin brothers to Oklahoma to do the job.
“All by themselves?” Mom had asked doubtfully.
“Wouldn’t dream of it!” Kim had assured her. “Ron will be along. And Rufus, of course. I’d go too, but I have cheerleading practice tomorrow – and much as I hate to admit it, Jim and Tim can do this one themselves.” Mom’s expression had lightened at the mention of the little naked mole rat; she had done an EEG on Rufus some time back, and though she wouldn’t discuss the results (“patient confidentiality, you know”), Kim noticed that she didn’t seem to be worrying nearly as much about Kim’s and Ron’s more harrowing adventures since that examination.
Mom had also given her blessing to the twins’ trip, which meant that Kim could go to bed with a – temporarily, at least – clear caseload. She was just pulling fresh PJs out of her drawer when an instant-message ping – or more accurately, the Power Ranger beep-beep-boop-boop that identified an IM from Monique – warbled out of her computer speakers.
Kim suppressed another yawn as she crossed the room, hit the Shift key to revive the screen, and eyed the message. “Got a deadline,” it read, “need a quick beta on a Harry/Ginny fic. Couldyoucouldyoucouldyou? Homemade blueberry muffins . . . .”
“You know me too well, girlfriend,” Kim told the screen, pulling her chair up and plunking herself into it. Kim herself didn’t write fanfic – between cheerleading practice, saving the world regularly, and building up her favor-reserves, there simply wasn’t time – but she was as fond of dreamy romance as the next girl, and her ability to read mind-bendingly fast and absorb minutely precise detail made her inordinately popular with those of her friends who did. Almost too popular, in fact – word of Kim’s talent as a beta reader had begun leaking out into some of the online fan communities, and there were beginning to be more requests than she could handle easily.
But Monique was a special case – and her mother’s blueberry muffins were world-class. “I am a slave to the muffins,” she typed back. “Tell me more.”
“It’s only 3K words,” came Monique’s IM. “Easy as . . . three muffins?”
“I am a sleepy slave,” Kim typed. “Three for Thursday, four for tomorrow morning.”
There was a pause. “You’re about five minutes too late for four. Three and a half? Plus a grandé-size hot chocolate at Javalatte? Please???”
Kim chuckled, visualizing Monique brushing blueberry crumbs off her fingers. “Finish your snack, girlfriend. Three plus the grandé HC.”
“Done,” Monique responded. “Sending, O Beta Goddess.” Within moments, the file landed in Kim’s email; she changed into her PJs while it was printing, then flicked on her bedside lamp and settled down to read.
a Kim Possible story
by Gray Cardinal
copyright 2005
PG
********************
Written for Seanan (aka
cadhla), as a late entry in the Yuletide Treasure NYR Challenge. Kim Possible and related characters belong to Disney, and are hereby borrowed without ill intent.1 • Slave to the Muffins
Kim Possible scooted her chair backward, stretched her left arm as far behind her as she could, and snagged the Kimmunicator lying on the foot of her bed. “That should do it for tonight, Wade,” she said. “I just uploaded the last four cases.”
“Got ‘em,” said the quart-sized computer genius, his hands still flying over his keyboard even as he turned his head toward the video pickup. “I’ll have the new batch for you tomorrow.”
Kim yawned, clicked the Kimmunicator off, and tossed it into the arms of an oversized plush Kanga. Saving the world from Dr. Drakken and Monkey Fist, she reflected, was easy compared to solving people’s mundane business and personal problems – but without the bankroll of favors she built up by applying common sense to the overcomplicated, there’d be no way for her to pursue her crime-fighting career.
At least this evening’s assignments had been relatively simple. A call to Nana had enabled her to work out the secret ingredient in an old family applesauce cookie recipe, she’d deduced the whereabouts of a world-famous stage magician’s missing lockpicks after ten minutes of skilled questioning over the phone, and a few minutes of data-wrangling from Wade would resurrect a popular TV show’s crashed SFX computer. The call from Ty Pennington, who needed a way to demolish a seemingly indestructible house for his latest Extreme Makeover: Home Edition project, had taken the most finesse – she’d had to get her parents’ permission to send her twin brothers to Oklahoma to do the job.
“All by themselves?” Mom had asked doubtfully.
“Wouldn’t dream of it!” Kim had assured her. “Ron will be along. And Rufus, of course. I’d go too, but I have cheerleading practice tomorrow – and much as I hate to admit it, Jim and Tim can do this one themselves.” Mom’s expression had lightened at the mention of the little naked mole rat; she had done an EEG on Rufus some time back, and though she wouldn’t discuss the results (“patient confidentiality, you know”), Kim noticed that she didn’t seem to be worrying nearly as much about Kim’s and Ron’s more harrowing adventures since that examination.
Mom had also given her blessing to the twins’ trip, which meant that Kim could go to bed with a – temporarily, at least – clear caseload. She was just pulling fresh PJs out of her drawer when an instant-message ping – or more accurately, the Power Ranger beep-beep-boop-boop that identified an IM from Monique – warbled out of her computer speakers.
Kim suppressed another yawn as she crossed the room, hit the Shift key to revive the screen, and eyed the message. “Got a deadline,” it read, “need a quick beta on a Harry/Ginny fic. Couldyoucouldyoucouldyou? Homemade blueberry muffins . . . .”
“You know me too well, girlfriend,” Kim told the screen, pulling her chair up and plunking herself into it. Kim herself didn’t write fanfic – between cheerleading practice, saving the world regularly, and building up her favor-reserves, there simply wasn’t time – but she was as fond of dreamy romance as the next girl, and her ability to read mind-bendingly fast and absorb minutely precise detail made her inordinately popular with those of her friends who did. Almost too popular, in fact – word of Kim’s talent as a beta reader had begun leaking out into some of the online fan communities, and there were beginning to be more requests than she could handle easily.
But Monique was a special case – and her mother’s blueberry muffins were world-class. “I am a slave to the muffins,” she typed back. “Tell me more.”
“It’s only 3K words,” came Monique’s IM. “Easy as . . . three muffins?”
“I am a sleepy slave,” Kim typed. “Three for Thursday, four for tomorrow morning.”
There was a pause. “You’re about five minutes too late for four. Three and a half? Plus a grandé-size hot chocolate at Javalatte? Please???”
Kim chuckled, visualizing Monique brushing blueberry crumbs off her fingers. “Finish your snack, girlfriend. Three plus the grandé HC.”
“Done,” Monique responded. “Sending, O Beta Goddess.” Within moments, the file landed in Kim’s email; she changed into her PJs while it was printing, then flicked on her bedside lamp and settled down to read.
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Date: November 30th, 2005 02:23 am (UTC)I'm glad you liked the story.