Any random drabbles that don't belong in my Variable Suns universe will end up in this thread.
For the lovely Muse, a new drabble complete with a guest appearance from a Buffy the Vampire Slayer character! Prompt chosen was:
<u><b>Supernatural</b></u>
The air in the small club rocked with the heavy beat of the band on stage. The crowd was light for a Saturday, but really, it was still too early in the evening for the serious partiers to be out in force yet. The bartender dropped a drink in front of a pretty brunette at the bar with a smile and she thanked him distractedly as she cocked her head to eavesdrop on the couple seated beside her.
Maria Deluca blinked back tears as she watched the man she’d given up everything for shoot pool with her best friend at the other end of the room. Michael had called things off between them again about a week ago and, unlike usual, was showing no signs of changing his mind. She had gone to Liz for commiseration and had been shocked to find that the other woman sided with Michael! Okay, so maybe she had been out of line to accuse him of sleeping with that waitress at the last dive bar they’d worked, but she’d been drunk! She sniffed unhappily and decided that, really, they both should have been a bit more understanding.
Across the room, Michael laughed at something Liz said and smirked at her as he bent to take another shot. From her place at the bar, Maria watched, envious of their easy camaraderie. It had been a long, lonely week. Isabel and Kyle were still in the honeymoon phase of their relationship, so they were too enmeshed in one another to pay any attention to the rest of the group’s drama. With her boyfriend and her best friend unavailable for companionship, she found herself turning to Max. She took a sip of her bitter drink and grimaced as she mused to herself. At least he was sympathetic. After all, he was practically in the same boat she was!
At that thought, she spun despairingly to the dark haired man on her right, and demanded, “How do you do it?! How do you deal with her every day without going crazy?”
“It’s not easy," Max said consolingly, remembering the day six month’s ago when the woman he considered his true destiny announced she was ‘divorcing’ him. “I keep reminding myself that we’re soulmates. We’ve just been going through a rough spot. Liz will remember that we belong together, I have faith in that.”
His words hit her like a kick in the chest and Maria sobbed at his proclamation, “But what if you don’t even have that to cling to?”
Max patted her back comfortingly, “You just have to have confidence, Maria. You and Michael have had hard times before and you’ve always found your way back to one another. Don’t give up. One day soon, they’re both going to open their eyes and realize that everything they need is right in front of them.”
“I wish it would happen already! Why can’t someday be now?!” the blonde declared with an emphatic slap of the bar.
The brunette beside them smiled and said to herself, “Done.”
“Huh?” Maria asked, turning to the now empty stool where the woman had been. Whirling to Max she demanded, “Wasn’t there someone sitting next to me?”
Max shrug and took another disinterested sip of his cola as he watched the two engrossed in their game on the other side of the room, “I don’t think so.”
<i>Meanwhile, by the pool table…</i>
Michael and Liz have opened their eyes, and all they see is each other.
***********************************************************
Yeah, I know. This one's a shorty. Trying to get into the real drabble spirit.
BtVS character used is Anyanka, wish-granting patron demoness of scorned women.
Random Moments (UC/Mi/L/Teen) 5/22/07
Moderators: Anniepoo98, Itzstacie, truelovepooh, Erina, Forum Moderators
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TheOtherWillow
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Random Moments (UC/Mi/L/Teen) 5/22/07
Last edited by TheOtherWillow on Tue May 22, 2007 10:10 am, edited 2 times in total.
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TheOtherWillow
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Thanks for all the kind words, folks! I was trying to write part three of Unclosed and was getting frustrated, so I hoped some drabbles would help with the flow. Here goes:
100 Words: Fire
We’ll live to regret this, I’m sure. But right now there’s nothing but flame and honey racing through the dark hollows of my veins, taking up the little spaces where blood is supposed to flow. I’m molten and enflamed by his touch, every caress a sharp bite of fire into my icy flesh.
Am I too proud to beg?
The answer is no, if that’s what’s necessary to have him inside me. To rip free of the hateful restriction of clothes and feel the burning sweet damnation of his skin against mine. My voice echoes between us:
Take me, Michael!
175 Words: Fantasy
Oh sure, he’d imagined it all before. Against the lockers in the break room. Spread out across the table he’d been sitting at when he watched her write in her journal years ago. On the counter. On the floor. In the supply closet. Hell, even in the walk-in freezer. There wasn’t a single solitary inch of the Crashdown that he hadn’t dreamed of ravaging little Lizzie Parker on.
Except, of course, the grill.
Which made the fact that he currently had her propped up on the damn thing while he devoured her mouth more than a little ironic. He could feel the soapy water from his interrupted cleanup soaking her flimsy uniform. He had a sudden vision of accidentally turning the heat on and decided he wasn’t going to risk it. Grabbing handfuls of wet cotton, he lifted her away from the potential danger and took stock of his location options. Hmm…choices, choices, choices. Should he clear the food prep counter? Lay her down on the couch?
Which dirty little fantasy should they fulfill first?
200 Words: Song
“What the hell are we listening to?” Michael growled as he cleaned the grill.
Liz paused in singing along with the tune to frown at him, “It’s a good song!”
The gruff alien rolled his eyes in exasperation, “Bad enough when you bring your angry fem rock, now I gotta listen to mopy chick songs too?”
Tossing her rag down on the table, she glared, “It’s not a mopy chick song! It’s from the musical, Wicked!”
“And that’s better, why?” He cocked an eyebrow at her, “She’s bitchin’ cause he picked some other chick.”
Liz picked up her washcloth and toyed with it subconsciously, “No…she’s just…reminding herself of what she can never have.”
“Whatever,” he said dismissively as he finished his share of the cleanup. “Enjoy your mopy chick music. I’m outta here.”
She watched him leave without comment. Going to the stereo, she restarted the track. Her eyes grew damp as she listened, raising her voice to join in near the end:
“Don’t wish. Don’t start. Wishing only wounds the heart…” She broke off to brush the slick fall of tears from her cheeks before sadly continuing, “There’s a girl I know, he loves her so…I’m not that girl.”
Note:
************************************************************************
Yeah, I know. Wicked didn’t come out until 2003. Pretend they’re working a greasy diner on the road post graduation if that bothers you. Song quoted is “I’m Not That Girl”.
300 Words: Shelter
“Oh jesus, Michael!” she yelped as she caught sight of him outside the rain-streaked glass. Leaping to open the window, she fumbled with the cool metal of the lock.
He smirked half-heartedly at her shock and pushed the wet mop of hair out of his eyes. “Bike wouldn’t start,” he explained as she gestured him inside. Climbing over the sill, he gratefully took the towel she’d fetched from the bathroom.
“Why were you even working tonight?” she asked with a frown as she began to peal his soaked jacket off him. “Wasn’t it Jose’s shift?”
He raised his eyebrows in surprise at her undressing him. He shucked the sopping denim and shrugged, “He needed the night off, I needed the cash.”
“God, you’re drenched,” she muttered despairingly as she noticed that even his t-shirt was dripping. Thinking only of the need to get him into dry clothes, she reached for him.
He couldn’t contain his astonishment when her fingers found their way to the hem of his tee and started to lift. “Um, not that I object to you trying to get me naked, Parker – but don’t you have a boyfriend?” he asked sardonically as he stilled her hands.
She blinked at him in incomprehension before realizing how her actions were being interpreted. “Oh!” she yelped, blushing prettily before releasing him and jumping away in alarm. “Um, clothes! We need to get you something dry to wear! Let me see what my dad has!” she stammered as she backed towards the door. Waving her arm towards her attached bathroom, she offered, “Why don’t you take a hot shower to warm up and I’ll grab something for you?”
Her face was burning red as she escaped and Michael chuckled to himself as he watched her go.
“Oh yeah. She wants me.”
100 Words: Fire
We’ll live to regret this, I’m sure. But right now there’s nothing but flame and honey racing through the dark hollows of my veins, taking up the little spaces where blood is supposed to flow. I’m molten and enflamed by his touch, every caress a sharp bite of fire into my icy flesh.
Am I too proud to beg?
The answer is no, if that’s what’s necessary to have him inside me. To rip free of the hateful restriction of clothes and feel the burning sweet damnation of his skin against mine. My voice echoes between us:
Take me, Michael!
175 Words: Fantasy
Oh sure, he’d imagined it all before. Against the lockers in the break room. Spread out across the table he’d been sitting at when he watched her write in her journal years ago. On the counter. On the floor. In the supply closet. Hell, even in the walk-in freezer. There wasn’t a single solitary inch of the Crashdown that he hadn’t dreamed of ravaging little Lizzie Parker on.
Except, of course, the grill.
Which made the fact that he currently had her propped up on the damn thing while he devoured her mouth more than a little ironic. He could feel the soapy water from his interrupted cleanup soaking her flimsy uniform. He had a sudden vision of accidentally turning the heat on and decided he wasn’t going to risk it. Grabbing handfuls of wet cotton, he lifted her away from the potential danger and took stock of his location options. Hmm…choices, choices, choices. Should he clear the food prep counter? Lay her down on the couch?
Which dirty little fantasy should they fulfill first?
200 Words: Song
“What the hell are we listening to?” Michael growled as he cleaned the grill.
Liz paused in singing along with the tune to frown at him, “It’s a good song!”
The gruff alien rolled his eyes in exasperation, “Bad enough when you bring your angry fem rock, now I gotta listen to mopy chick songs too?”
Tossing her rag down on the table, she glared, “It’s not a mopy chick song! It’s from the musical, Wicked!”
“And that’s better, why?” He cocked an eyebrow at her, “She’s bitchin’ cause he picked some other chick.”
Liz picked up her washcloth and toyed with it subconsciously, “No…she’s just…reminding herself of what she can never have.”
“Whatever,” he said dismissively as he finished his share of the cleanup. “Enjoy your mopy chick music. I’m outta here.”
She watched him leave without comment. Going to the stereo, she restarted the track. Her eyes grew damp as she listened, raising her voice to join in near the end:
“Don’t wish. Don’t start. Wishing only wounds the heart…” She broke off to brush the slick fall of tears from her cheeks before sadly continuing, “There’s a girl I know, he loves her so…I’m not that girl.”
Note:
************************************************************************
Yeah, I know. Wicked didn’t come out until 2003. Pretend they’re working a greasy diner on the road post graduation if that bothers you. Song quoted is “I’m Not That Girl”.
300 Words: Shelter
“Oh jesus, Michael!” she yelped as she caught sight of him outside the rain-streaked glass. Leaping to open the window, she fumbled with the cool metal of the lock.
He smirked half-heartedly at her shock and pushed the wet mop of hair out of his eyes. “Bike wouldn’t start,” he explained as she gestured him inside. Climbing over the sill, he gratefully took the towel she’d fetched from the bathroom.
“Why were you even working tonight?” she asked with a frown as she began to peal his soaked jacket off him. “Wasn’t it Jose’s shift?”
He raised his eyebrows in surprise at her undressing him. He shucked the sopping denim and shrugged, “He needed the night off, I needed the cash.”
“God, you’re drenched,” she muttered despairingly as she noticed that even his t-shirt was dripping. Thinking only of the need to get him into dry clothes, she reached for him.
He couldn’t contain his astonishment when her fingers found their way to the hem of his tee and started to lift. “Um, not that I object to you trying to get me naked, Parker – but don’t you have a boyfriend?” he asked sardonically as he stilled her hands.
She blinked at him in incomprehension before realizing how her actions were being interpreted. “Oh!” she yelped, blushing prettily before releasing him and jumping away in alarm. “Um, clothes! We need to get you something dry to wear! Let me see what my dad has!” she stammered as she backed towards the door. Waving her arm towards her attached bathroom, she offered, “Why don’t you take a hot shower to warm up and I’ll grab something for you?”
Her face was burning red as she escaped and Michael chuckled to himself as he watched her go.
“Oh yeah. She wants me.”
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TheOtherWillow
- Enthusiastic Roswellian
- Posts: 35
- Joined: Sat Dec 30, 2006 10:31 pm
- Contact:
Oh bloody everlasting hell. I don't know where this came from; sometimes even I'm not sure what goes on in my brain. I feel as if I should apologize for this weirdness in advance, but here goes: Yes, it's a Firefly/Roswell crossover. It's even kinda River/Michael. Yeah. I dunno how it happened either. One shot, thank god. Challenge drabble done to the prompt of...
River
She found it at the bottom of a box of junk. Tarnished and blackened with age, it sang to her. Love and loss and heartache tangled and twisted around its smooth metal sides. Victories, sorrows, triumphs and tragedies; all were locked within the simple band. Her fingers hovered over it, absorbing its songs, breathing its stories. Hundreds of hands had held this silver ring, but none of their voices had been able to drown out the man who’d worn it first. Even without touching it he called to her, brash and unapologetic from the distant mist of some long forgotten past
She scooped the little circle up in her palm and cradled it against her chest. Closing her eyes, she drew up the essence of him. Across the vast sea of time and space he came to her in a rush. Tall and laconic. Dirty blond hair with a sarcastic smile and a heritage that every scientist in the ‘verse would deny. Eyes like the smoky amber whiskey her father used to bring out at parties to impress his Core-bred business associates.
It was the eyes that hurt her. They told the story of man who knew pain in ways the rest of the galaxy could never comprehend. A man who was broken, but not bested. Bitter, but not lost. They reminded her of the Captain’s eyes. Of Zoey’s. Of hers.
She drank him down like wine. Invited him inside to dance along the fragile pathways of her bloodstream. She made him a part of her. He raced across her nerves, tickling her fingertips with green sparks of power. Silver handprints burned away Two-by-two-hands-of-blue as she slid the ring upon her finger. It was far too big for her slender digits, but with a cool flash they made it fit. She sighed contentedly as the silver slithered against her skin, “Michael…”
With this ring, I do thee wed...
“River!” Her brother’s voice broke into her reverie, “Come away from there! We’re ready to go.”
She turned to see Simon helping Kaylee winch down the parts they’d come to the scrap yard to secure. Jayne scowled at her as rose to her feet and flowed toward the mule. Catching her wrist, he twisted her arm up to stare at the shining silver against her skin.
“Gwai-gwai long duh dong!” he exclaimed, swinging her around to face him. “What’s this?” he demanded again.
“My wedding ring,” she replied serenely, smiling in the face of his confusion.
“That’s luh-suh, crazy girl,” he sneered. “You ain’t married.”
“Shouldn’t you gwon nee tze-jee duh shr?” she queried remotely as she yanked her arm free. “If you wanted me for yourself, Jane Cobb, you should have spoken up before now.”
He gaped at her in slack jawed astonishment and she giggled at his face as she settled herself into the mule.
In the back of her head, Michael smiled.
Translations
Gwai-gwai long duh dong! – What the hell is this?
luh-suh – garbage
gwon nee tze-jee duh shr – see to your own affairs
River
She found it at the bottom of a box of junk. Tarnished and blackened with age, it sang to her. Love and loss and heartache tangled and twisted around its smooth metal sides. Victories, sorrows, triumphs and tragedies; all were locked within the simple band. Her fingers hovered over it, absorbing its songs, breathing its stories. Hundreds of hands had held this silver ring, but none of their voices had been able to drown out the man who’d worn it first. Even without touching it he called to her, brash and unapologetic from the distant mist of some long forgotten past
She scooped the little circle up in her palm and cradled it against her chest. Closing her eyes, she drew up the essence of him. Across the vast sea of time and space he came to her in a rush. Tall and laconic. Dirty blond hair with a sarcastic smile and a heritage that every scientist in the ‘verse would deny. Eyes like the smoky amber whiskey her father used to bring out at parties to impress his Core-bred business associates.
It was the eyes that hurt her. They told the story of man who knew pain in ways the rest of the galaxy could never comprehend. A man who was broken, but not bested. Bitter, but not lost. They reminded her of the Captain’s eyes. Of Zoey’s. Of hers.
She drank him down like wine. Invited him inside to dance along the fragile pathways of her bloodstream. She made him a part of her. He raced across her nerves, tickling her fingertips with green sparks of power. Silver handprints burned away Two-by-two-hands-of-blue as she slid the ring upon her finger. It was far too big for her slender digits, but with a cool flash they made it fit. She sighed contentedly as the silver slithered against her skin, “Michael…”
With this ring, I do thee wed...
“River!” Her brother’s voice broke into her reverie, “Come away from there! We’re ready to go.”
She turned to see Simon helping Kaylee winch down the parts they’d come to the scrap yard to secure. Jayne scowled at her as rose to her feet and flowed toward the mule. Catching her wrist, he twisted her arm up to stare at the shining silver against her skin.
“Gwai-gwai long duh dong!” he exclaimed, swinging her around to face him. “What’s this?” he demanded again.
“My wedding ring,” she replied serenely, smiling in the face of his confusion.
“That’s luh-suh, crazy girl,” he sneered. “You ain’t married.”
“Shouldn’t you gwon nee tze-jee duh shr?” she queried remotely as she yanked her arm free. “If you wanted me for yourself, Jane Cobb, you should have spoken up before now.”
He gaped at her in slack jawed astonishment and she giggled at his face as she settled herself into the mule.
In the back of her head, Michael smiled.
Translations
Gwai-gwai long duh dong! – What the hell is this?
luh-suh – garbage
gwon nee tze-jee duh shr – see to your own affairs