Adopt-a-Plot-Bunny Program

[geekygecko.livejournal.com]

Have you ever had a brilliant idea for a story in which Wilson gets sick or hurt, but you couldn't quite figure out what to do with it?  Maybe the muses were fickle and abandoned you in the midst of the creative process, and an unfinished fic continues to languish on your hard drive.  Or maybe you have the opposite problem, and your plot bunnies are multiplying faster than you can keep up with them.  Perhaps you've never been bitten by the writing bug, but have spent countless hours daydreaming of ways to torture Wilson with various injuries and/or illnesses.  Whatever your situation, wouldn't it be great if you could find a good home for your neglected plot bunnies, where they could have an opportunity to thrive under someone else's tender loving care?

*drum roll*

sick_wilson is pleased to introduce the Adopt-a-Plot-Bunny Program—a forum designed to bring ideas and writers together.

If you want to offer a plot bunny for adoption, provide a brief description of the type of illness and/or injury that you'd like to see inflicted upon our favorite oncologist.  Plot summaries are also welcome.

If you're a writer and decide to adopt a plot bunny, please credit the person who provided the concept for your story.  A reference to sick_wilson would be greatly appreciated if you cross-post to other communities.

Interested? *poke, poke*

Let the fun begin!

Comments

Re: dont have an lj account but took the liberty of writing a version of #2

[(Anonymous)]

It was about halfway through the ride back to the hotel, when House had been starting to fall asleep, and was sitting in a position that could only be described as the closest you could come to lying down, while still technically sitting up, when he heard Wilson groan. “What’s his problem they gave him pain killers for his leg, and his eyes shouldn’t still hurt.” thought House, waking up a bit, but not yet opening his eyes. Wilson groaned again, and House opened his eyes. “What’s up with you?” asked House, annoyed. “Migraine.” muttered Wilson. “Don’t puke on me.” said House. “Not that kind, just hurts.” “Probably the stress from the snowblindness.” said House. “Thanks, I really needed to know just what caused it this time.” snapped Wilson. “Just shut up, talking hurts.” he finished, slightly apologetically. House didn’t reply. He was probably already asleep.


It was about ten minutes later, when the driver pulled over onto the side of the road. House limped up to the front to ask what the deal was. “this storm is too thick to see anything, and the wind is gusting so much I can barely keep on the road. This is the first parking lot since it got this bad, sorry, but I’m not driving anymore in this weather.” said the driver. House looked out the window, and saw one fain neon sign through the storm, and that was it. He was surprised they had made it into the parking lot at all. The driver looked at House curiously. “Didn’t you notice the storm?” asked the driver. “I was asleep. It’s kind of hard to notice much when you’re asleep.” replied House, scathingly, before turning to go back to tell Wilson what was up.


When House got back to Wilson, he found that Wilson was not in much shape to be told anything. He was curled up on the seat, his fingers in his ears, his face pressed into his elbow. “Wilson, we have to get off the bus.” said House, looking at his companion. “Urghuah.” said Wilson. “You conscious?” asked House. Wilson made a non-committal noise and started to sit up. He apparently soon found that to not be the best idea in the world, because as soon as he reached an upright position, he promptly curled up again, moaning. “Wilson?” asked House, now sounding slightly more worried, and less annoyed. “Migraine.” mumbled Wilson, and stuck his fingers back in his ears. House sighed, annoyed, and went outside to browbeat the driver into helping Wilson out of the van.

Re: dont have an lj account but took the liberty of writing a version of #2

[(Anonymous)]

As soon as House got inside the small, one room and a small bathroom motel room, set Wilson on the bed, and shooed the driver out, Wilson resumed moaning holding his head. House looked at his disheveled friend, and sighed. The room didn’t have a computer, tv, bookcase, or any other entertainment device. It had a phone book, a bible, and a list of nearby attractions. The same list of nearby attractions that the nice hotel they were supposed to be staying at had provided. House sighed again, and sat down in the chair next to the bed. Or more accurately, the chair next to everything in the room, as there was almost no space that wasn’t taken up by the single bed. There was only one bed, and Wilson was on it. House tried to go to sleep in the chair, but Wilson’s moaning kept him awake. He debated going out to the lobby, but decided against leaving Wilson in his current condition. He didn’t want him puking on the bed after all.

Wilson’s migraines tended to go away within an hour after they started, but that was with the medication that was packed away, nice and neat and comfy, in Wilson’s suitcase at the nicer hotel. Given that, House should not have been surprised that three hours after the storm had forced them off the road, Wilson was still completely out of it. He wasn’t really surprised, just annoyed. Annoyed and bored. He had been lazily flipping through the phonebook, wondering if anyone in it was worth prank calling. He had already called, and annoyed, Cuddy, Foreman, Chase, and Cameron at least three times each, and they were no longer answering their phones. After about another half hour of this, House realized he had to go to the bathroom. As he got up, he glanced at Wilson, pale, sweating, and only half conscious. “You still there, Wilson?” he asked. Wilson made no reply, but winced at the sound. “Guess so.” said House, as he limped to the bathroom.

House was washing his hands, and thinking about the likelihood of managing to find a hooker desperate enough to go out in this storm for a customer with a groaning, half conscious guy on the only bed, when he heard a thump come from the bedroom, followed by an extra-loud groan, and a mumbled call of “House?” House would liked to have just ignored it, but there was another, slightly desperate call, and he decided he should probably see what had happened.

Re: dont have an lj account but took the liberty of writing a version of #2

[(Anonymous)]

when he got out of the bathroom, at first he couldn’t see where Wilson was, but as he limped further into the dark room, he saw a huddled shape on the floor, in-between the bed and the wall. “Wilson? You alive?” asked House. “House....” groaned Wilson, and House heard the pain in his voice. “Wilson?” asked House again, moving closer, and bending over to get a better look at Wilson. Wilson was holding on to the bed sheets, white knuckled, and shaking, he seemed to be sitting in a awkward position, his right leg under him, his left up, and his forehead resting on his left knee. His eyes were closed, and he was bitting his lip, hard enough to puncture the skin slightly.
“Wilson?” House asked a third time. “Wilson, what’s up?” House asked, looking worried. “I...fell off....” said Wilson, his voice shaking. “I can see that.” said House, with his usual bluntness, “I mean, why are you still sitting there?” “I...landed...on...my knee....”said Wilson, seeming to curl up even more. “Yeah, you’re still sitting on it, why?” “Every....every...every time...I move...it...hurts...” said Wilson, shaking even harder now. “You are one screwed up guy.” said House, trying keep the worry out of his voice. “House....help....”said Wilson, his brown eyes unfocused, but looking up at House. “I can’t...” said House. “I’ll get the driver, or someone.” “No!” said Wilson, sounding panicked. “What? I can’t lift you without falling over, and you can’t get up by yourself or else you would have already, you want to stay that way?” asked House, sarcastically. “No...just...don’t....it hurts....please...” said Wilson. House could tell that Wilson wasn’t thinking straight, that he was probably only semi-conscious from the pain, that if he was thinking logically, he would be yelling at House to go get some help, but still, he looked so lost, and sounded so scared, that House couldn’t stop himself from kneeling down and putting a hand on Wilson’s shoulder. Wilson reached out and grabbed House’s arm, holding on to it like a lifeline. House almost pulled away, the contact was unfamiliar, after so many years of avoiding close company, but he didn’t. He didn’t pull away. instead, he reached out to take hold of Wilson’s other shoulder, and, shifting his own weight, pulled Wilson forward, off his injured knee. Unfortunately, this resulted in pulling Wilson onto his own painful leg, but as Wilson grabbed House’s shirt, and gasped at the pain of moving, House reflected that, at least he could get some sleep now, as he proved by passing out then and there.

Re: dont have an lj account but took the liberty of writing a version of #2

[(Anonymous)]

“Ergh.” “Wha?” “What happened?” House’s first thought was that he had been run over by a truck. His second thought was that it had all been a very, very, long, and weird dream, and he was still twelve, still living with his dad. His third thought was that he almost never remembered his dreams, so that couldn’t be it. His fourth thought was that Wilson was lying on top of him, it was dark, and his leg hurt. Man, his leg hurt a lot. wait. Wilson was lying on top of him. That one didn’t make sense. And why was the bed so hard. Wilson on top of him? His leg really did hurt a lot. Wilson was on top of him, holding on to his shirt. Oh, good, he was wearing a shirt. That meant nothing too weird was going on. Why was his shirt wet though? It was wet right near Wilson’s head too...gross....oww...leg....


“House?” “House?!” “Come on, say something, House!” “House?” “House....come on...wake up....” “House?” “Urgh” “finally!” “What the heck? Why are you lying on top of me?” “You don’t remember?” “What?!” “Er, sorry, that came out bad.” “That’s the understatement of the century.” “Sorry...look, could you possibly let go?” “Let go?” “Yes, you are hugging me.” “I let go.” “Um, right.” “Why aren’t you getting off of me now?” “Um, well, two reasons, first, my hands are kinda asleep from being under me, and seem to be tangled in your shirt, and second, because if I put any weight on my left leg, it will knee you in the groin, and my right leg is kinda out of commission at the moment.” “Oh.” “Yeah.” “My leg hurts.” “So does mine” “you still have a migraine?” “Not at the moment. They kept coming and going all night.” “Oh.” “Sooo...” “My shirt’s wet....” “Er, yeah, sorry about that.” “Were you crying, drooling, or puking?” “Um...crying.” “Oh. Good.” “Sorry.” “For getting my shirt wet? You’d better be.” “Heh, House...” “I’m serious, if it’s stained, you’re buying me a new one.” “Heh, ok.” “Can you move your hands yet?” “Let me see.” “No, not really.” “Oh.” “House....” “What?” “I’m getting...another...migraine.” “Bad?” “Not...as bad... not as bad as...the first...one.” “But bad.” “...yeah” “Damn.” “Sorry.” “Not the migraine, I have to pee.” “You...do?” “No.” “House....” “Heh.” “Urguhg.” “You ok?” “Don’t...talk...so...loud.” “Damn.” “Eragh....”

Re: dont have an lj account but took the liberty of writing a version of #2

[(Anonymous)]

“House?” “I’m here.” “Sorry.” “Get off me, and we’ll call it even.” “I’ll try.” “Well?” “Still the same problem with my legs, but I can at least move my hands now.” “Ok.” “right.”


“Ready?” “No.” “You gonna be ready?” “No.” “Ok then, on the count of three?” “Ok.” “One, two, three.”
“Owwww!”


A few hours later, House sat, flipping through the phonebook, Wilson lay on the bed, moaning, and the room was rather dark. However, despite the similarities to the situation earlier, House was not debating leaving Wilson in the room alone, and Wilson was not going to fall off the bed, because House was sitting next to him on the bed and the wall was right up against the bed on the other side. It was no longer dark because of the hour, but because there was a massive snowdrift right outside the window, and almost no light was coming in. It was not a very big change, but it was a change.

note: this is part one, i'll post part two later, after it gets written

Re: dont have an lj account but took the liberty of writing a version of #2

[(Anonymous)]

sorry about the funky way of posting, i hope it doesnt annoy anyone too much.
btw, most sites im alanwolfmoon. i just dont have an lj account yet....

Re: dont have an lj account but took the liberty of writing a version of #2

[(Anonymous)]

er, sorry about this one again, this was in response to aphroditeroslin's #2