Drabble Batch 4 - Posted to Tumblr
These were drabbles written/posted up on my tumblr.
For anamuan:
Peyton/Koyama: peyton is a radio personality in japan, koyama has never been famous
99 words, Koyama Keiichiro/Peyton (JE/LJ)
“You’re interested in this, aren’t you?” Peyton’s noticed Koyama always in the area when she records-he’s just a temp, but he’s attentive and quick and always knows exactly what she’s in the mood for (coffee, tea, treats, or just managing to wrangle that annoying host right before her out of the booth without her having to kick him in the balls for hitting on her yet again).
Koyama goes slightly red-it’s kind of adorable, actually-and shakes his head; when she narrows her eyes and refuses to break contact, the shake becomes a head nod.
She smiles. “You only have to ask.”
Holmes/Watson, space au
38 words, John Watson/Sherlock Holmes (Sherlock)
“I’m bored.”
“Seriously? We’ve spent years training for this, were selected out of so many people, and that is the first thing you say once we’re finally in space?”
“Well, maybe they should make it more interesting out here.”
“It’s space.”
“And?”
Mal/Ariadne, Cobb killed himself instead
80 words, Ariadne/Mal (Inception)
Mal stares at the sheet Ariadne just hands her, then looks back up and shakes her head. “If you’re the best my father recommends, then he must be losing his touch.”
Ariadne’s eyes narrow and she snatches back the notepad, quickly scribbling another maze before thrusting the pad back.
Mal doesn’t even bother trying to solve it, just one glance and her lips curl upwards-almost a smile, but not exactly. “Now. That is better.”
Ariadne feels like she’s won some sort of competition.
For sinonymity:
Ohno/Maki. sherlock holmes au. :D
101 words, Horikita Maki/Ohno Satoshi.
Nino hates Maki-she takes up Ohno’s time (time that Ohno could be using with other things he likes: painting, baking, Nino), she starts spending time at the apartment-their apartment, and she inputs her opinion regarding their cases.
Ohno only smiles and passes Nino his newest sketch-a charcoal rendition of Maki standing in front of their library passing a book to a seated Nino.
It takes a second before Nino realizes why this is important-after all, Ohno almost never draws people. He sighs and passes the paper back, “As long as she stops going to our crime scenes.” Ohno shrugs and makes no promises.
Prompted by writeworld tumblr's Writer's Blocks
“Seriously, I’m over it.”, 328 words
“Seriously, I’m over it.”
He says it-the words tumble out of his mouth like nothing. But she doesn’t believe them.
“Right.”
“Don’t give me that,” he says. “I mean it.” She nods, but his eyebrows only pinch closer together and by his side, she can see his fist clench and unclench. “You never believe anything I say.”
“To be fair,” she says, “your track record isn’t exactly-” She stops there, but the words stick inside her throat. You never get over anything.
“Bullshit, you’re the last person to say that to me.”
“Your clever way of saying pot, kettle?”
“You forgot to add the ‘how cute’ to your mocking.”
The sides of her lips curl upwards. “I thought that was evident enough in my tone.” She crosses her arms and amuses herself with the fact that she’s getting to him. He’s already started tapping his foot on the floor in that insistent matter that she’s pretty sure he hasn’t realized yet, and she’s counted him running his hand through his hair roughly 12 times since the conversation started. But, it’s not enough. “But I can say it if you want. How cute.” She loves the fact that she can visibly see the vein in his forehead just throb.
“This is not where I thought this conversation would go.” He combs his hand through his hair. 13.
She snorts. “I’m sorry. You didn’t realize a potentially serious conversation would bring sarcasm? You don’t know me at all.”
He sighs loudly. “Stop it. We should talk.”
“No,” she says. “Can’t we forget I even brought it up?”
“If that’s what you want.” But his tone says that he doesn’t really want to. That she’s crazy for avoiding it.
“Well, you’re over it, so what more do we need to say?”
“I’m over it, but are you?”
She purses her lips. “Nothing to get over.”
“So our parents getting married is nothing?”
She shrugs. “If you must hear it, I’m over it.”
His eyebrow only quirks upward.
“Seriously,” she echoes. “I’m over it.”
He laughs, shaking his head.
I’m not nagging, but-, 258 words
I’m not nagging, but- she says.
It’s not a full sentence, but it doesn’t have to be, because the rest of the sentence doesn’t matter. The first half almost doesn’t matter, the but is the most important part.
Couple that with the tone-that tone that you’ve heard all your life; the tone that only serves to remind you that in their eyes, you’re not good enough; the tone that even when you’re away will always ring in your ears with judgment-and it’s almost too much to handle.
I’m not nagging, but- she says.
It’s not once, it’s not twice, it’s three different points. All points you’ve heard before. And it’s not fair that you’ve heard this kind of speech, in all its variations, so many times when you are trying. You have been listening, but nothing to show for it.
Because that’s always been the trick. Show, not tell.
I’m not nagging, but- she says.
Silence is the key, or an affirmation with the blandest “yes” you can muster. You can’t see her expression, but you can catch glimpses of it in the mirror beside her and it’s enough to ensure you keep your eyes down, keep it on your hands-phone-lap-anything but up.
And sure enough, she stops. She stops after the third point. After the third time she’s put you down again for the week.
You never need to hear if she has any other points anyway. You can fill the rest of the sentence for yourself in the simplest way.
I’m not nagging, but why can’t you be a better daughter?
“Do you trust me?”
304 words, Beca/Jesse (Pitch Perfect)
“Do you trust me?” Jesse asks her.
Beca raises an eyebrow, her arms folded, and she wonders if he realizes how ridiculous his question is. He must because he starts laughing.
“Okay, let me rephrase that. Do you at least moderately believe that I am not leading you to your death?”
“That’s just silly. I know it’s not to my death-it’s not that serious.”
Jesse rolls his eyes. “What I get for trying to be a gentleman.”
“No one asked you to.” Beca smirks when Jesse sighs.
“How does anyone deal with you?” He takes a step in her direction which only makes Beca take a step back.
“No-no, ” she says. “We’re in mixed company.” She gestures at the other members of their respective groups, The Bellas and The Treblemakers, who are not paying any attention to their captains-they’ve seen them flirt too much for their own liking anyway. “That is for private time.”
Jesse’s eyebrows go up for a second before his lips curve into a smirk. “Promise?”
“In your dreams,” Beca retorts before she calls everyone’s attention to the start of the First Annual Acca-Collaboration.
(“You know, if Aubrey knew about this, she’d roll in her grave,” Jesse says when Beca suggests the idea.
She laughs. “You know she’s not dead, right?”
“She’ll probably drop dead at the idea that we’re mixing. Wasn’t it in your vows?”
Beca rolls her eyes. “I’m sure she’ll get over it.)
((When Chloe answers her phone, the first thing she hears is a high-pitched shriek. She sighs before she hangs up. Aubrey will probably call back in two minutes when she realizes that Chloe wasn’t on the other end the entire time.
On her laptop screen is the invitation that Beca had emailed them all, even former members, to the Acca-Collaboration. She thought it sounded like a good idea; she’d probably convince Aubrey to go despite it all.))
For anamuan:
Peyton/Koyama: peyton is a radio personality in japan, koyama has never been famous
99 words, Koyama Keiichiro/Peyton (JE/LJ)
“You’re interested in this, aren’t you?” Peyton’s noticed Koyama always in the area when she records-he’s just a temp, but he’s attentive and quick and always knows exactly what she’s in the mood for (coffee, tea, treats, or just managing to wrangle that annoying host right before her out of the booth without her having to kick him in the balls for hitting on her yet again).
Koyama goes slightly red-it’s kind of adorable, actually-and shakes his head; when she narrows her eyes and refuses to break contact, the shake becomes a head nod.
She smiles. “You only have to ask.”
Holmes/Watson, space au
38 words, John Watson/Sherlock Holmes (Sherlock)
“I’m bored.”
“Seriously? We’ve spent years training for this, were selected out of so many people, and that is the first thing you say once we’re finally in space?”
“Well, maybe they should make it more interesting out here.”
“It’s space.”
“And?”
Mal/Ariadne, Cobb killed himself instead
80 words, Ariadne/Mal (Inception)
Mal stares at the sheet Ariadne just hands her, then looks back up and shakes her head. “If you’re the best my father recommends, then he must be losing his touch.”
Ariadne’s eyes narrow and she snatches back the notepad, quickly scribbling another maze before thrusting the pad back.
Mal doesn’t even bother trying to solve it, just one glance and her lips curl upwards-almost a smile, but not exactly. “Now. That is better.”
Ariadne feels like she’s won some sort of competition.
For sinonymity:
Ohno/Maki. sherlock holmes au. :D
101 words, Horikita Maki/Ohno Satoshi.
Nino hates Maki-she takes up Ohno’s time (time that Ohno could be using with other things he likes: painting, baking, Nino), she starts spending time at the apartment-their apartment, and she inputs her opinion regarding their cases.
Ohno only smiles and passes Nino his newest sketch-a charcoal rendition of Maki standing in front of their library passing a book to a seated Nino.
It takes a second before Nino realizes why this is important-after all, Ohno almost never draws people. He sighs and passes the paper back, “As long as she stops going to our crime scenes.” Ohno shrugs and makes no promises.
Prompted by writeworld tumblr's Writer's Blocks
“Seriously, I’m over it.”, 328 words
“Seriously, I’m over it.”
He says it-the words tumble out of his mouth like nothing. But she doesn’t believe them.
“Right.”
“Don’t give me that,” he says. “I mean it.” She nods, but his eyebrows only pinch closer together and by his side, she can see his fist clench and unclench. “You never believe anything I say.”
“To be fair,” she says, “your track record isn’t exactly-” She stops there, but the words stick inside her throat. You never get over anything.
“Bullshit, you’re the last person to say that to me.”
“Your clever way of saying pot, kettle?”
“You forgot to add the ‘how cute’ to your mocking.”
The sides of her lips curl upwards. “I thought that was evident enough in my tone.” She crosses her arms and amuses herself with the fact that she’s getting to him. He’s already started tapping his foot on the floor in that insistent matter that she’s pretty sure he hasn’t realized yet, and she’s counted him running his hand through his hair roughly 12 times since the conversation started. But, it’s not enough. “But I can say it if you want. How cute.” She loves the fact that she can visibly see the vein in his forehead just throb.
“This is not where I thought this conversation would go.” He combs his hand through his hair. 13.
She snorts. “I’m sorry. You didn’t realize a potentially serious conversation would bring sarcasm? You don’t know me at all.”
He sighs loudly. “Stop it. We should talk.”
“No,” she says. “Can’t we forget I even brought it up?”
“If that’s what you want.” But his tone says that he doesn’t really want to. That she’s crazy for avoiding it.
“Well, you’re over it, so what more do we need to say?”
“I’m over it, but are you?”
She purses her lips. “Nothing to get over.”
“So our parents getting married is nothing?”
She shrugs. “If you must hear it, I’m over it.”
His eyebrow only quirks upward.
“Seriously,” she echoes. “I’m over it.”
He laughs, shaking his head.
I’m not nagging, but-, 258 words
I’m not nagging, but- she says.
It’s not a full sentence, but it doesn’t have to be, because the rest of the sentence doesn’t matter. The first half almost doesn’t matter, the but is the most important part.
Couple that with the tone-that tone that you’ve heard all your life; the tone that only serves to remind you that in their eyes, you’re not good enough; the tone that even when you’re away will always ring in your ears with judgment-and it’s almost too much to handle.
I’m not nagging, but- she says.
It’s not once, it’s not twice, it’s three different points. All points you’ve heard before. And it’s not fair that you’ve heard this kind of speech, in all its variations, so many times when you are trying. You have been listening, but nothing to show for it.
Because that’s always been the trick. Show, not tell.
I’m not nagging, but- she says.
Silence is the key, or an affirmation with the blandest “yes” you can muster. You can’t see her expression, but you can catch glimpses of it in the mirror beside her and it’s enough to ensure you keep your eyes down, keep it on your hands-phone-lap-anything but up.
And sure enough, she stops. She stops after the third point. After the third time she’s put you down again for the week.
You never need to hear if she has any other points anyway. You can fill the rest of the sentence for yourself in the simplest way.
I’m not nagging, but why can’t you be a better daughter?
“Do you trust me?”
304 words, Beca/Jesse (Pitch Perfect)
“Do you trust me?” Jesse asks her.
Beca raises an eyebrow, her arms folded, and she wonders if he realizes how ridiculous his question is. He must because he starts laughing.
“Okay, let me rephrase that. Do you at least moderately believe that I am not leading you to your death?”
“That’s just silly. I know it’s not to my death-it’s not that serious.”
Jesse rolls his eyes. “What I get for trying to be a gentleman.”
“No one asked you to.” Beca smirks when Jesse sighs.
“How does anyone deal with you?” He takes a step in her direction which only makes Beca take a step back.
“No-no, ” she says. “We’re in mixed company.” She gestures at the other members of their respective groups, The Bellas and The Treblemakers, who are not paying any attention to their captains-they’ve seen them flirt too much for their own liking anyway. “That is for private time.”
Jesse’s eyebrows go up for a second before his lips curve into a smirk. “Promise?”
“In your dreams,” Beca retorts before she calls everyone’s attention to the start of the First Annual Acca-Collaboration.
(“You know, if Aubrey knew about this, she’d roll in her grave,” Jesse says when Beca suggests the idea.
She laughs. “You know she’s not dead, right?”
“She’ll probably drop dead at the idea that we’re mixing. Wasn’t it in your vows?”
Beca rolls her eyes. “I’m sure she’ll get over it.)
((When Chloe answers her phone, the first thing she hears is a high-pitched shriek. She sighs before she hangs up. Aubrey will probably call back in two minutes when she realizes that Chloe wasn’t on the other end the entire time.
On her laptop screen is the invitation that Beca had emailed them all, even former members, to the Acca-Collaboration. She thought it sounded like a good idea; she’d probably convince Aubrey to go despite it all.))