Disconnected, Connect
Title: Disconnected, Connect
Fandom: The Lost Boys
Characters: Marko, David, Dwayne, and Paul. Star and Laddie mentioned.
Prompt: 019, 051, 002, and 059.
Word Count: Between 94 and 499 words.
Rating: Generally just PG-13, I'm sure. Language (the f-bomb more than once, gasp!)
Author's Notes: I just came up with the stories as they came to me. I don't really have much else to say except that I'm writing my author's notes when I should be in bed sleeping.
Kites
499 words.
019: Pink.
The wind came out full force at night in Santa Carla, on some nights at least. The windy coast of California was the best place to fly kites... during the day.
Marko saw the remains of a kite-flying day once when they'd rode out just after sunset. He'd seen the way they'd soared through the sky, and he'd swallowed as he stared at their graceful movements through the air, riding the wind like Marko rode his bike. And when one got away, Marko stared after it longingly. Sometimes he wished he could be like those kites, or like a balloon let go. He wondered where he'd end up if that was the case.
Tonight David and Star needed "alone time" in the cave. Marko had coughed a little to hide his smirk and snort of laughter. Dwayne and Paul hadn't faired any better, but poor Laddie didn't know what was going on at all. All for the better. Dwayne had taken off with Laddie to a more southern part of the beach, knowing that the little half-vampire would want to see the rides, maybe go on some. Dwayne was above that, of course, but he took to Laddie pretty well and the kid could - figuratively speaking - get away with murder. Marko and Paul headed out to Hudson's Bluff, Paul carrying some sort of bag with him. Marko asked what it was, but Paul refused to tell.
They got there with plenty of time to spare; all they needed was to be back at the cave before sunrise, or stop in at Max's house if absolutely necessary.
Everyone avoided necessity.
They parked their bikes a good ways from the edge of the bluff, and sat down in the sand leisurely. Marko even hummed a little to himself, wishing a little that he'd brought the boombox with him. Oh well, he thought, toeing the sand with his boot. There was always tomorrow night.
The moon was out, full and heavy and oh-so-white, and Marko looked up at it almost curiously as the sand moved around from the wind. He heard rustling behind him, and turned to look, finding Paul taking something heavy out of the bag, some weird kind of pink fabric. With a tail. And a string.
A pink kite.
They locked eyes, and Marko blinked first. Paul smiled.
"I've seen the way you look at them," he confessed with a tiny sigh. "I thought you might like to be a kid for a little while."
Marko didn't say anything for a long moment, and Paul's smile dimmed in the silence. "Sorry, yeah, it was a dumb idea, I don't know what I was thi-"
Marko cut him off with a finger to Paul's lips, his movements almost too quick for Paul to pick up on, but Paul was older even if Marko was faster. "No. It's... it's fucking perfect."
The kite sailed through the sky, and Marko flew higher and farther than he ever had before.
Mermaids
290 words.
051: Water.
Looking out over the water as he stood on the beach, Marko smirked a little, kicking off his boots and shucking his patch-ridden jacket before rolling up the cuffs of his blue jeans. He was left in a white cut-off t-shirt and his jeans.
Underwear was a big no-no to him.
He feet wiggled happily in the sand, and Marko licked his lips, getting a trace of blood he'd missed at the corner of his mouth. Marko stepped forward, the surf bubbling up over his toes. It felt cool on his feet; Marko had warmed up from the poor victim from earlier.
There was a splash from somewhere out in the ocean and Marko looked up curiously. He remembered the stories his mother would tell him when he was young, about mermaids that granted wishes, or had wishes granted, or mermaids who walked on land. They were a bunch of stupid stories, and he knew that now. Vampires were much more real, and his mother had never told him about that.
Still, he couldn't take his eyes off of the rolling waves. He traced one fang with his tongue, realizing that he was waiting to see a head pop out of the water, or see a tail splashing amongst the waves. Marko scoffed at himself, his wide eyed moving to look at his pale feet illuminated only by the moon.
Mermaids weren't real. But then again, vampires weren't supposed to be either. An internal war waged within Marko, imagination and longing fighting knowledge and reason.
He wasn't sure what to think, and he turned away from the ocean, making up his mind. Marko had done away with stupid things once he'd been turned. There was no reason to lapse now.
Small
191 words.
002: Middles.
When Marko got drunk off of blood, or alcohol, or high from a hippie, or just plain weed, he liked to think about the world. He could wax philosophic for hours to Paul or Dwayne or David. Usually one of them shut him up with their own mouths, and Marko was thoroughly distracted.
Even though he could be shut up, and only then would he spew out his thoughts as they came to him, as they jumped into his mind, Marko was always thinking. It might not have seemed like it, but Marko was smarter than he seemed. It was one of the reasons David chose him to be the first addition to their little family.
But when he really thought about it, when Marko got really down to thinking about his place in the entire world, in the universe, Marko realized how tiny his role was. How small Santa Carla was in the scheme of the world.
Another warm body to help him forget, blood rushing to his head from his mouth from someone's neck, another one of his brothers in bed, and Marko's thoughts were stopped. For the moment.
Tomatoes
94 words.
059: Food.
Marko hated tomatoes.
HATED them. They were squishy, and wet, and tasted pretty fuicking nasty. They were disgusting, and the texture was all weird in his mouth. Marko hated them even more since his mother had grown them in the backyard during the War. Since everyone was on rations, tomatoes were a new staple in his diet.
He hated them.
Now, hitchhiking across the lovely US of A, Marko stood outside a picketted-off garden. There were ripe tomatoes staring at him tauntingly. His eye twitched.
His hate could be delayed for a few minutes.
Fandom: The Lost Boys
Characters: Marko, David, Dwayne, and Paul. Star and Laddie mentioned.
Prompt: 019, 051, 002, and 059.
Word Count: Between 94 and 499 words.
Rating: Generally just PG-13, I'm sure. Language (the f-bomb more than once, gasp!)
Author's Notes: I just came up with the stories as they came to me. I don't really have much else to say except that I'm writing my author's notes when I should be in bed sleeping.
Kites
499 words.
019: Pink.
The wind came out full force at night in Santa Carla, on some nights at least. The windy coast of California was the best place to fly kites... during the day.
Marko saw the remains of a kite-flying day once when they'd rode out just after sunset. He'd seen the way they'd soared through the sky, and he'd swallowed as he stared at their graceful movements through the air, riding the wind like Marko rode his bike. And when one got away, Marko stared after it longingly. Sometimes he wished he could be like those kites, or like a balloon let go. He wondered where he'd end up if that was the case.
Tonight David and Star needed "alone time" in the cave. Marko had coughed a little to hide his smirk and snort of laughter. Dwayne and Paul hadn't faired any better, but poor Laddie didn't know what was going on at all. All for the better. Dwayne had taken off with Laddie to a more southern part of the beach, knowing that the little half-vampire would want to see the rides, maybe go on some. Dwayne was above that, of course, but he took to Laddie pretty well and the kid could - figuratively speaking - get away with murder. Marko and Paul headed out to Hudson's Bluff, Paul carrying some sort of bag with him. Marko asked what it was, but Paul refused to tell.
They got there with plenty of time to spare; all they needed was to be back at the cave before sunrise, or stop in at Max's house if absolutely necessary.
Everyone avoided necessity.
They parked their bikes a good ways from the edge of the bluff, and sat down in the sand leisurely. Marko even hummed a little to himself, wishing a little that he'd brought the boombox with him. Oh well, he thought, toeing the sand with his boot. There was always tomorrow night.
The moon was out, full and heavy and oh-so-white, and Marko looked up at it almost curiously as the sand moved around from the wind. He heard rustling behind him, and turned to look, finding Paul taking something heavy out of the bag, some weird kind of pink fabric. With a tail. And a string.
A pink kite.
They locked eyes, and Marko blinked first. Paul smiled.
"I've seen the way you look at them," he confessed with a tiny sigh. "I thought you might like to be a kid for a little while."
Marko didn't say anything for a long moment, and Paul's smile dimmed in the silence. "Sorry, yeah, it was a dumb idea, I don't know what I was thi-"
Marko cut him off with a finger to Paul's lips, his movements almost too quick for Paul to pick up on, but Paul was older even if Marko was faster. "No. It's... it's fucking perfect."
The kite sailed through the sky, and Marko flew higher and farther than he ever had before.
Mermaids
290 words.
051: Water.
Looking out over the water as he stood on the beach, Marko smirked a little, kicking off his boots and shucking his patch-ridden jacket before rolling up the cuffs of his blue jeans. He was left in a white cut-off t-shirt and his jeans.
Underwear was a big no-no to him.
He feet wiggled happily in the sand, and Marko licked his lips, getting a trace of blood he'd missed at the corner of his mouth. Marko stepped forward, the surf bubbling up over his toes. It felt cool on his feet; Marko had warmed up from the poor victim from earlier.
There was a splash from somewhere out in the ocean and Marko looked up curiously. He remembered the stories his mother would tell him when he was young, about mermaids that granted wishes, or had wishes granted, or mermaids who walked on land. They were a bunch of stupid stories, and he knew that now. Vampires were much more real, and his mother had never told him about that.
Still, he couldn't take his eyes off of the rolling waves. He traced one fang with his tongue, realizing that he was waiting to see a head pop out of the water, or see a tail splashing amongst the waves. Marko scoffed at himself, his wide eyed moving to look at his pale feet illuminated only by the moon.
Mermaids weren't real. But then again, vampires weren't supposed to be either. An internal war waged within Marko, imagination and longing fighting knowledge and reason.
He wasn't sure what to think, and he turned away from the ocean, making up his mind. Marko had done away with stupid things once he'd been turned. There was no reason to lapse now.
Small
191 words.
002: Middles.
When Marko got drunk off of blood, or alcohol, or high from a hippie, or just plain weed, he liked to think about the world. He could wax philosophic for hours to Paul or Dwayne or David. Usually one of them shut him up with their own mouths, and Marko was thoroughly distracted.
Even though he could be shut up, and only then would he spew out his thoughts as they came to him, as they jumped into his mind, Marko was always thinking. It might not have seemed like it, but Marko was smarter than he seemed. It was one of the reasons David chose him to be the first addition to their little family.
But when he really thought about it, when Marko got really down to thinking about his place in the entire world, in the universe, Marko realized how tiny his role was. How small Santa Carla was in the scheme of the world.
Another warm body to help him forget, blood rushing to his head from his mouth from someone's neck, another one of his brothers in bed, and Marko's thoughts were stopped. For the moment.
Tomatoes
94 words.
059: Food.
Marko hated tomatoes.
HATED them. They were squishy, and wet, and tasted pretty fuicking nasty. They were disgusting, and the texture was all weird in his mouth. Marko hated them even more since his mother had grown them in the backyard during the War. Since everyone was on rations, tomatoes were a new staple in his diet.
He hated them.
Now, hitchhiking across the lovely US of A, Marko stood outside a picketted-off garden. There were ripe tomatoes staring at him tauntingly. His eye twitched.
His hate could be delayed for a few minutes.