(no subject)
5 x 100 word drabbles. Oz-centric. Multifandom. Rated R.
1.
“This is some good shit, you know what I’m saying, lunchbox? The freaky little fucker over there has some fucking *good* shit,” Jay said in his jerky voice, smoke drifting from his fingers. Oz smiled slightly and lay back on the ratty cushions in the back of his van, drifts of pot smoke coiling around the ceiling. The large brown haired man who’d come with the blond smiled himself, calmly rolling another joint. “Where’d you get it from anyway?”
“My aunt,” Oz answered.
“Seriously? What is she, a hippy?”
“A little.”
“Fucking hippies, I gotta tell you about this chick…”
2.
“You have a video card?”
Oz got out the card from his wallet and slid it across the counter to the clerk. This time, the clerk was a slender young man with dark hair, wearing a bowler hat. At least he had a personality. So often, clerks just didn’t. Assimilated into the job description.
“Sam! Your shift over yet?”
Oz turned to look at the impish woman in the doorway, not missing the shy smile the two exchanged.
“Just this customer, Joon, then we can go get lunch.”
“Alright. I’ll go order tapioca at the diner.”
“See you soon…”
“Indubitably.”
3.
“You know, sometimes I wonder why I bother voting at all,” the red haired older man next to Oz grumbled, looking at the blaring television. “Every single idiot seems to have the same idea on how to deal with the same old problems.”
“So why don’t you go in for office?”
The man looked at Oz with a sardonic eyebrow uplifted. Something in his movements was old and weary, survivor canny and the wolf in Oz could sense an alpha male looming behind his human face. He *was* human though, Oz didn’t doubt it.
“Who’d have me? Call me Lazarus.”
4.
There had been a pack of vampires. And then rather suddenly, there weren’t any. Oz blinked, stake and cross in hand as a large black man strode up the dark alley towards him.
“You alright?”
“Fine,” he answered slowly, getting a feeling of menace from the imposing figure. The wariness wasn’t helped by the visible weaponry the guy was carrying.
“These streets aren’t safe after dark. I suggest you find a hotel room.”
“I’ll do that...” Oz edged around where the man stood and walked away quickly. The guy could loom as good as Angel, and that was saying something.
5.
The sign said ‘Santa Carla’. But the tag underneath read ‘Homicide Capitol of the World’. Oz leant out of the window of his van and squinted at it for a second, before mentally shrugging and driving in. He was sure he could pick up a summer job in a town like this. He pulled up in front of the waterfront, and got out to look at the sun glinting on the water.
“New here?”
“Just got in today.” Oz turned slowly to look at the other man who had walked up beside him. “Why?”
“Name’s Michael. I’ll fill you in.”
1.
“This is some good shit, you know what I’m saying, lunchbox? The freaky little fucker over there has some fucking *good* shit,” Jay said in his jerky voice, smoke drifting from his fingers. Oz smiled slightly and lay back on the ratty cushions in the back of his van, drifts of pot smoke coiling around the ceiling. The large brown haired man who’d come with the blond smiled himself, calmly rolling another joint. “Where’d you get it from anyway?”
“My aunt,” Oz answered.
“Seriously? What is she, a hippy?”
“A little.”
“Fucking hippies, I gotta tell you about this chick…”
2.
“You have a video card?”
Oz got out the card from his wallet and slid it across the counter to the clerk. This time, the clerk was a slender young man with dark hair, wearing a bowler hat. At least he had a personality. So often, clerks just didn’t. Assimilated into the job description.
“Sam! Your shift over yet?”
Oz turned to look at the impish woman in the doorway, not missing the shy smile the two exchanged.
“Just this customer, Joon, then we can go get lunch.”
“Alright. I’ll go order tapioca at the diner.”
“See you soon…”
“Indubitably.”
3.
“You know, sometimes I wonder why I bother voting at all,” the red haired older man next to Oz grumbled, looking at the blaring television. “Every single idiot seems to have the same idea on how to deal with the same old problems.”
“So why don’t you go in for office?”
The man looked at Oz with a sardonic eyebrow uplifted. Something in his movements was old and weary, survivor canny and the wolf in Oz could sense an alpha male looming behind his human face. He *was* human though, Oz didn’t doubt it.
“Who’d have me? Call me Lazarus.”
4.
There had been a pack of vampires. And then rather suddenly, there weren’t any. Oz blinked, stake and cross in hand as a large black man strode up the dark alley towards him.
“You alright?”
“Fine,” he answered slowly, getting a feeling of menace from the imposing figure. The wariness wasn’t helped by the visible weaponry the guy was carrying.
“These streets aren’t safe after dark. I suggest you find a hotel room.”
“I’ll do that...” Oz edged around where the man stood and walked away quickly. The guy could loom as good as Angel, and that was saying something.
5.
The sign said ‘Santa Carla’. But the tag underneath read ‘Homicide Capitol of the World’. Oz leant out of the window of his van and squinted at it for a second, before mentally shrugging and driving in. He was sure he could pick up a summer job in a town like this. He pulled up in front of the waterfront, and got out to look at the sun glinting on the water.
“New here?”
“Just got in today.” Oz turned slowly to look at the other man who had walked up beside him. “Why?”
“Name’s Michael. I’ll fill you in.”