drabble crossover entry: otherside

Mar 01, 2004 10:00

kahlannightwing said there was a new drabble challenge up in here! Mine's a Vegeta/Rikki, making it a (sort of) AnK crossover. It takes place in my mind as I am watching Ank. Vegeta is miffed cos he was my original smut-object. This is what he does when Rikki enters my mind.

It’s post-modern! It sucks! Yay! [Cosmo voice]

Oh yes, I guess it's a Mary Sue, if you want to be technical. (um...I told you, already! it sucks!)



I exist, like a strange dream or the imagery half imagined before she becomes aware, and shuffles me in the back of her writer’s mind. I am dismissed as a stereotype- some gruff angst ridden bastard with a heart of gold, somewhere under all that macho spandex.

I am real, damnit. As real as any notion of Princehood or aristocracy. As real as that ever was. This… this writer sees me as unreal on those terms. Absurd. A parody.

I sit in the back of her mind, arms crossed, sulking as she ignores me, as she pines over one of those damn animes she seems fond of, as some Rikki, some pitiful little peon who protests too much about being his master’s bitch, pervades this mind.

I am crowded in here. I’ve had enough. But this- this is a final insult. He is so horribly low. So terribly dirty. I walk around this dark haired nobody; hand on my chin, shaking my head in disgust.

“I wonder what makes you so special?” I ask myself. He is… beneath being addressed. And yet he doesn’t bother even looking at me.

I rub my chin and growl. This writer used to love me. She did. She used to sandwich my body into writhing orgies. I was crowned, coronated with blowjobs, worshipped with asses of all genders. I was more than a prince- I was the king.

“I don’t think you’re special,” I say to the bastard. He doesn’t seem to care. He just stares at the wall in front of him. Her mind’s eye. He is watching the screening of his story. “But you obviously do!” I wave my hand in front of his face. He does not react. The son of a bitch is as stubborn as I.

I cross my arms and look away. “What do I care that the stupid bitch is fickle?” It shouldn’t matter, when she prefers submissive trash like this, to a crowned master, like me. It prickles me, though…

I turn and leer at the damn bastard. He’s hardly submissive. No- but he is asking to be made submissive. My cock springs to life, the first time in forever, at the thought of showing him, showing her, just how potent I really am.

I will not be ignored!

I put my hand on his chin and force him to look down at me. “I wasn’t following the plot,” I say with a humorless smile. “But I don’t need a damn ningen story to tell me you’re just begging for a good, hard lesson about who your Daddy is, around here.” I run my tongue across my lips.

I grab his hair and pull him to the floor. Delicious, his eyes become black when I tear the flimsy shirt off of his broad, tan shoulders. He fights like a wild horse. Oh… it’s been too long…

“I know the writer hates crossovers- but she’ll just have to learn: * I am * Master.”

Kneel and submit.
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