Drabble Responses
Three drabbles here, all 100 words!
So seven requests left to be made! Feel free :)
Supernatural/Star Wars. Sam and Dean with light sabres.
“These are like the real deal,” Dean admired, spinning the green sabre in his hand letting it hum beneath his fingertips.
“How do you work it?”
“Naïve padawan, you need the force-”
Sam stared.
“-And there’s a button... there.”
It burst into life with a blue hue. Sam darted backwards and soon they were immersed within the spar. They fought for hours, until they were left grinning in exhaustion and it scared Sam how easily Dean adapted to new weapons.
“Who gave these to you, Sam? Obi-Wan Kenobi?”
“Ben,”
“What?”
“Ben Kenobi,” Sam corrected.
Dean gaped.
No way. No way.
----
Supernatural/Charmed. Sam and Phoebe have a vision.
She had been midway through a conversation when the familiar tug pulled her under.
“Phoebe!” A cry, but the empath could no longer hear anything but the roaring of the vision in her mind’s eye.
It threw him into the wall. The other gasped in a strangle hold. “Dean!” He croaked, held back, forced to watch the ball of fire heading straight for his brother. “Sam!” Before a scream, “Sam,” just a whisper.
“Sam!”
He woke with a start, instantly bothered by both the demon and that woman...Dreaming, having visions.
“Hey man, you okay?”
Concern, clear cut. Silence, then;
“No...”
----
Supernatural. The hell-hounds find the dead fish in their backseat.
“Do you smell something?”
“Sorry, it’s the excitement, getting to me,”
“No, no, it’s coming from the backseat.”
He checked, stretching his hand where his eyes could not reach. He felt the upholstery, the cracks, rips, and then, squelch. A pull and he could see the dead fish in his hand quite clearly. He gagged.
“Maybe it’s a threat-like in those gangster movies.”
A stare, then;
“You’re so lame,” And once more, the cassette tape was played letting The Imperial March crescendos drown out their worries as they headed to L.A. with the windows down low, breathing through their mouths.
So seven requests left to be made! Feel free :)
Supernatural/Star Wars. Sam and Dean with light sabres.
“These are like the real deal,” Dean admired, spinning the green sabre in his hand letting it hum beneath his fingertips.
“How do you work it?”
“Naïve padawan, you need the force-”
Sam stared.
“-And there’s a button... there.”
It burst into life with a blue hue. Sam darted backwards and soon they were immersed within the spar. They fought for hours, until they were left grinning in exhaustion and it scared Sam how easily Dean adapted to new weapons.
“Who gave these to you, Sam? Obi-Wan Kenobi?”
“Ben,”
“What?”
“Ben Kenobi,” Sam corrected.
Dean gaped.
No way. No way.
----
Supernatural/Charmed. Sam and Phoebe have a vision.
She had been midway through a conversation when the familiar tug pulled her under.
“Phoebe!” A cry, but the empath could no longer hear anything but the roaring of the vision in her mind’s eye.
It threw him into the wall. The other gasped in a strangle hold. “Dean!” He croaked, held back, forced to watch the ball of fire heading straight for his brother. “Sam!” Before a scream, “Sam,” just a whisper.
“Sam!”
He woke with a start, instantly bothered by both the demon and that woman...Dreaming, having visions.
“Hey man, you okay?”
Concern, clear cut. Silence, then;
“No...”
----
Supernatural. The hell-hounds find the dead fish in their backseat.
“Do you smell something?”
“Sorry, it’s the excitement, getting to me,”
“No, no, it’s coming from the backseat.”
He checked, stretching his hand where his eyes could not reach. He felt the upholstery, the cracks, rips, and then, squelch. A pull and he could see the dead fish in his hand quite clearly. He gagged.
“Maybe it’s a threat-like in those gangster movies.”
A stare, then;
“You’re so lame,” And once more, the cassette tape was played letting The Imperial March crescendos drown out their worries as they headed to L.A. with the windows down low, breathing through their mouths.