First Line Ficlets
Ficletty things from the first lines drabble meme over at my other journal. All safe for work, all using the first line of another fic.
'Image Concerns'
Gerard and Mikey gen, for greedy-dancer's Haircare Tips for Zonerunners
Gerard hasn't looked at himself properly in a while. According to Mikey that's normal, and it takes most people years to manage the mirror thing.
Gerard gives him a doubtful look, letting his hair fall forward over his eyes. "How do you figure that?" Mikey was, like, the idiot savant of vampirism when he was turned. He can fucking levitate, and it hasn't even been as long for him as it has for Gerard. Gerard's proud of him, so much it hurts sometimes, but it's still hard being the one who's all maladjusted and shit. He thought he'd take to this stuff more.
"Pete says." Mikey shrugs. "You have to work up to the reflection thing." He looks up from his sidekick and squints at Gerard. "I think it's a good sign that you can already see yourself in glimpses and, like, shadows?"
Gerard flops into the basement's biggest armchair and broods. His fringe falls in front of his eyes again in clumpy red strands. The dye is new. He's fairly sure it looks awesome. He doesn't know, though.
"Does my hair look awesome?"
"Sure," Mikey says loyally.
Gerard's mouth twitches downward. He tugs the hand mirror out of his coat pocket and holds it up, trying to hold onto the shadow of pale skin and bright hair that briefly chases across its surface. He sighs. He has plans for his afterlife, he's totally going to burn this motherfucker down, there's going to be a fucking blaze of glory.
He'd just like to know he looks sweet doing it.
The Apocalypse Will Have Kittens
For softlyforgotten's Listening to Hear Where You Are (not safe for work)
This one belongs to a larger Alex/Z/Ryan zombie apocalypse emailfic universe. I'm not sure how much sense this drabble makes on its own.
They put it on him just before breakfast. He immediately twisted about, broken razor teeth gnawing at the rubber. Alex snatched his fingers out of the way. The zombie kitten hissed at him and backed up against Z's knees. She petted behind his ears, fingers deft as he snapped again.
"Hey there," she murmured. "How's my favourite psycho killer, baby?"
Alex straightened, dusting his knees off. He gave the kitten a doubtful look. "You know what would work better than a collar?"
Ryan tucked his thumbs into his pockets. The pockets were jaggedly torn, his thumbs poking through the denim, Alex noticed. "Oh, one of those little cat carriers," Ryan said. His eyes lit up and he grinned at Alex, crooked and delighted. "We could find one, right? In one of those shops that's been bashed in along the strip we passed through?"
"I was thinking a bullet," Alex said. "You ruined my line."
"I want a lead for him," Z said, ignoring this. "He could get lost when we move on again, otherwise. This city is dangerous for kittens."
"He's a zombie," Alex said, his voice faintly plaintive. He went back to cleaning the bits of his disassembled rifle, attempting to reassure himself that he was still protecting them, even though there was now a gruesomely infectious creature nipping at Z's fingers. "He is the danger in this city. He probably eats other kittens, and leaves their little corpses scattered in his wake."
Z grinned, sharp and fierce, her fingers combing through the matted fur. "Just the weak ones," she said.
Silver-Bright Shine
Z/girl!Pete, for harborshore's All That's Best of Dark and Light
(or AO3 link)
Z woke with a start. Enormous eyes blinked at her from close quarters, silver-bright with reflected moonshine and wide as a bug's. She choked on a breath, scrambling up against her headboard and throwing out her hands in self protection.
There was a thump as Pete fell off the bed, her nasal giggles briefly interrupted by sounds of pain before she started laughing again.
Z pulled all her blankets up to her neck and twisted to peer over the side of her bed, still sleep-confused. Her heart rate was juddering and not sure whether the half-dreamed danger was over.
Pete lifted the hand mirror she was holding, giggling harder. It glittered in the moonlight. "Dude, you. Dude," she said.
"Oh my god." Z slumped back. There were scrambling noises and a moment later Pete dropped herself back onto Z's bed, ankles digging into Z's thighs. She smiled big and sloppy.
Z pulled her scattered nerves together and gave her a stormy look. "It's fucking ... like three in the morning," she rasped.
Pete shrugged one shoulder. "Four."
Z narrowed her eyes. She pulled her legs out from under Pete, tucking them up to her chin, tugging the blankets higher so that she was regarding her roommate over a barricade of blanket. "You're a fucking menace, Wentz. That was terrifying."
Pete nodded, her solemn look almost passing for sincere in the uncertain moonlight. "Mirrors, dude," she agreed. "You know the story about how they steal your soul? What I want to know is, how do you tell? Maybe my soul was stolen, like, back in the fifth grade, and I just thought I was growing up."
Z swiped her hand over her eyes, rubbing away gritty sleep. "I'm not wearing any makeup," she complained. "Of course I was terrified. Give me that." She reached out and snatched away the mirror. She gave it a hard look, then widened her eyes to give herself the bug look she'd woken up to. "I'm taking away your mirror licence till you can use them responsibly, young lady," she mumbled. "And you jerk, you never grew up. Obviously you must have lost your soul."
Pete grinned, oddly sweet, and Z was reminded of that Peter Pan obsession of Pete's. She supposed that had come out as an accidental compliment. She supposed the Peter Pan complex was why Pete thought it was an awesome idea to wake people up at godawful o'clock when they had a midterm the next day, and traumatise them with weirdness.
"Why?" Z demanded, plaintive.
Pete stretched out her legs, leaning forward to rest her arms on her knees. "I was thinking," she said simply. "About how I'd like to wake up to your face every morning for the rest of my life."
Z's eyes stung, awkward sleep-confused emotion. She blinked, hard. They'd only been sharing a room for seven months, but Pete could get to Z in a way almost nobody could, as if her maze of defences was nothing at all, or Pete was twisty enough that she could get in by walking straight.
Pete pulled her knees up a bit and rested her cheek on them. She wasn't smiling now, just regarding Z steadily, her lashes a black smudge against her cheeks. "And then I thought how selfish that would be, when you never got to do it at all." She smiled, white in the darkness.
"Oh my god," Z breathed after a moment. "You complete jerk. Oh my god."
Pete's grin was blinding.
'Image Concerns'
Gerard and Mikey gen, for greedy-dancer's Haircare Tips for Zonerunners
Gerard hasn't looked at himself properly in a while. According to Mikey that's normal, and it takes most people years to manage the mirror thing.
Gerard gives him a doubtful look, letting his hair fall forward over his eyes. "How do you figure that?" Mikey was, like, the idiot savant of vampirism when he was turned. He can fucking levitate, and it hasn't even been as long for him as it has for Gerard. Gerard's proud of him, so much it hurts sometimes, but it's still hard being the one who's all maladjusted and shit. He thought he'd take to this stuff more.
"Pete says." Mikey shrugs. "You have to work up to the reflection thing." He looks up from his sidekick and squints at Gerard. "I think it's a good sign that you can already see yourself in glimpses and, like, shadows?"
Gerard flops into the basement's biggest armchair and broods. His fringe falls in front of his eyes again in clumpy red strands. The dye is new. He's fairly sure it looks awesome. He doesn't know, though.
"Does my hair look awesome?"
"Sure," Mikey says loyally.
Gerard's mouth twitches downward. He tugs the hand mirror out of his coat pocket and holds it up, trying to hold onto the shadow of pale skin and bright hair that briefly chases across its surface. He sighs. He has plans for his afterlife, he's totally going to burn this motherfucker down, there's going to be a fucking blaze of glory.
He'd just like to know he looks sweet doing it.
The Apocalypse Will Have Kittens
For softlyforgotten's Listening to Hear Where You Are (not safe for work)
This one belongs to a larger Alex/Z/Ryan zombie apocalypse emailfic universe. I'm not sure how much sense this drabble makes on its own.
They put it on him just before breakfast. He immediately twisted about, broken razor teeth gnawing at the rubber. Alex snatched his fingers out of the way. The zombie kitten hissed at him and backed up against Z's knees. She petted behind his ears, fingers deft as he snapped again.
"Hey there," she murmured. "How's my favourite psycho killer, baby?"
Alex straightened, dusting his knees off. He gave the kitten a doubtful look. "You know what would work better than a collar?"
Ryan tucked his thumbs into his pockets. The pockets were jaggedly torn, his thumbs poking through the denim, Alex noticed. "Oh, one of those little cat carriers," Ryan said. His eyes lit up and he grinned at Alex, crooked and delighted. "We could find one, right? In one of those shops that's been bashed in along the strip we passed through?"
"I was thinking a bullet," Alex said. "You ruined my line."
"I want a lead for him," Z said, ignoring this. "He could get lost when we move on again, otherwise. This city is dangerous for kittens."
"He's a zombie," Alex said, his voice faintly plaintive. He went back to cleaning the bits of his disassembled rifle, attempting to reassure himself that he was still protecting them, even though there was now a gruesomely infectious creature nipping at Z's fingers. "He is the danger in this city. He probably eats other kittens, and leaves their little corpses scattered in his wake."
Z grinned, sharp and fierce, her fingers combing through the matted fur. "Just the weak ones," she said.
Silver-Bright Shine
Z/girl!Pete, for harborshore's All That's Best of Dark and Light
(or AO3 link)
Z woke with a start. Enormous eyes blinked at her from close quarters, silver-bright with reflected moonshine and wide as a bug's. She choked on a breath, scrambling up against her headboard and throwing out her hands in self protection.
There was a thump as Pete fell off the bed, her nasal giggles briefly interrupted by sounds of pain before she started laughing again.
Z pulled all her blankets up to her neck and twisted to peer over the side of her bed, still sleep-confused. Her heart rate was juddering and not sure whether the half-dreamed danger was over.
Pete lifted the hand mirror she was holding, giggling harder. It glittered in the moonlight. "Dude, you. Dude," she said.
"Oh my god." Z slumped back. There were scrambling noises and a moment later Pete dropped herself back onto Z's bed, ankles digging into Z's thighs. She smiled big and sloppy.
Z pulled her scattered nerves together and gave her a stormy look. "It's fucking ... like three in the morning," she rasped.
Pete shrugged one shoulder. "Four."
Z narrowed her eyes. She pulled her legs out from under Pete, tucking them up to her chin, tugging the blankets higher so that she was regarding her roommate over a barricade of blanket. "You're a fucking menace, Wentz. That was terrifying."
Pete nodded, her solemn look almost passing for sincere in the uncertain moonlight. "Mirrors, dude," she agreed. "You know the story about how they steal your soul? What I want to know is, how do you tell? Maybe my soul was stolen, like, back in the fifth grade, and I just thought I was growing up."
Z swiped her hand over her eyes, rubbing away gritty sleep. "I'm not wearing any makeup," she complained. "Of course I was terrified. Give me that." She reached out and snatched away the mirror. She gave it a hard look, then widened her eyes to give herself the bug look she'd woken up to. "I'm taking away your mirror licence till you can use them responsibly, young lady," she mumbled. "And you jerk, you never grew up. Obviously you must have lost your soul."
Pete grinned, oddly sweet, and Z was reminded of that Peter Pan obsession of Pete's. She supposed that had come out as an accidental compliment. She supposed the Peter Pan complex was why Pete thought it was an awesome idea to wake people up at godawful o'clock when they had a midterm the next day, and traumatise them with weirdness.
"Why?" Z demanded, plaintive.
Pete stretched out her legs, leaning forward to rest her arms on her knees. "I was thinking," she said simply. "About how I'd like to wake up to your face every morning for the rest of my life."
Z's eyes stung, awkward sleep-confused emotion. She blinked, hard. They'd only been sharing a room for seven months, but Pete could get to Z in a way almost nobody could, as if her maze of defences was nothing at all, or Pete was twisty enough that she could get in by walking straight.
Pete pulled her knees up a bit and rested her cheek on them. She wasn't smiling now, just regarding Z steadily, her lashes a black smudge against her cheeks. "And then I thought how selfish that would be, when you never got to do it at all." She smiled, white in the darkness.
"Oh my god," Z breathed after a moment. "You complete jerk. Oh my god."
Pete's grin was blinding.