Things that make me :-D!
It is one month until my birthday!
I finished all my drabble prompts! Thank you, one and all! For them as are curious, here's what happened:
dragstormaround/SPN for acherontia_styx, "Winchesters meet the Nightjar":The Nightjar had a man on her tail, and he wasn't going anywhere soon. She'd seen him at the club; he made like he was chatting up some sweet young thing, but she felt his eyes sure as sun through a magnifying glass.
So she led him, far and wide. She was in no hurry, and better to be rid of the boy. They did their dance through three different districts. She was far from her crime scene by the time she let him catch up.
"Going somewhere?" he asked in an undertone, over her shoulder in an alley somewhere. She turned to face him: up close, what a lovely man, clear eyes and a lively mouth.
"Sweetpea," she said, smiling, "you're really not my type."
"Yeah, good thing I never took up guitar." She felt the tickle of a blade teasing at her ribs. She didn't look down.
"You think some bit of silver's gonna waste me?"
He shrugged. "I think you haven't died since the thirties and when you're killin' people to do it, that isn't at all right."
"That's not the measure of it, not at all." She dropped her eyes to the space between them. "Why're you standing so close, boy? You know what I can do to you."
A hammer clicked back behind her ear. She stopped, stock still. "Because of these rounds, that's why," said a second man, one she didn't see coming. The Nightjar turned and looked at him: massive, controlled, already been dead. "Why're you killing bluesmen?" he asked, nothing in his face but professionalism and contempt.
"Because people do stupid things for love," she said, and watched them exchange flashing, questioning looks.
dragstormaround/Mythology for metaphor, "Epimetheus and Deanne":Ellie never even had a chance. As soon as the truck rolled to a stop, Deanne launched herself from the open passenger window and hurtled over the muddy grass to the river. Ellie yelled out her name, but there was no holding her back. In a streak of red, the coonhound threw herself into the mud and water.
"You're a fiend, you know that?" Ellie said, hopping down the bank and slipping her shoes off. "Was this always the plan?"
"Sorry," said Deanne, not sounding remotely sorry as she waded in the shoals. "But it's just too damn hot not to."
"We have to wait until you're dry before we go back, you realize. Plus you're gonna stink up the truck."
She lay down, the mud squishing audibly beneath her. "Yeah, I really can't get too worked up about it."
Ellie shook her head. "You're just trying to make me jealous."
"No reason you can't--" She stopped, her body suddenly tensing. Ellie frowned.
"What is it?"
"Holy shit," Deanne muttered, and climbed up out of the water.
Ellie turned around. A man was standing by the bumper of the truck, watching them. No other vehicle was in sight. "Hi there," she said, on her guard.
The man looked away from Deanne, who was trotting toward him with her tail pinwheeling. "Hi," he replied, beaming. Deanne, sopping wet and thoroughly muddy, pressed her face up against his knee.
Ellie blinked, baffled by Deanne's complete failure to be standoffish. "Something I can help you with?"
The man lowered himself to the ground: it was a long process of folding long limbs. Deanne climbed right into his lap, smearing his shirt with river muck. "Not really. I was just passing through, thought I'd say hi." His hands worked their way up Deanne's chin, behind her ears: she moaned ecstatically, curling into a half-sitting position.
Ellie came closer. "She really seems to like you," she said, brow still furrowed.
"Of course," Deanne sighed, her eyes fluttering. "Oh my god, that's lovely."
SPN for lilacsigil, "Dean and a really girly drink":Dean scowled in miniature in the camera phone's viewfinder. "This part isn't actually necessary, is it?"
Sam glanced up, barely containing his most gleeful grin. "You agreed to the terms, dude. Don't tell me I'm the only one man enough to hold up his end of the bargain."
"This is cruel and unusual," Dean snapped. "What have I ever done to deserve this?"
"You don't actually want me to answer that, do you?"
He paused. "No, I guess not. But seriously -- it's not too late to switch up to karaoke, is it?"
"Dean."
"I can't just stick my hand down a chupacabra's throat or something?"
Sam pounded him on the shoulder. "Losing's a bitch, isn't it? Lucky thing it tastes so sweet."
Dean demonstrated magnificently that Sam did not have a family monopoly on the bitchface. "Fine." He settled onto the barstool and flagged down the bartender, a burly guy with a hoop through his septum. "Hi," he said, radiating pain with his smile.
"Go on," Sam said, squinting down at the cell display.
Dean twitched. "One appletini, please. And a handle of Jack."
"Dean."
He dropped his forehead to the bar. "Just the appletini."
"Don't forget the umbrellas!" Sam added helpfully.
Dean glared daggers through the phone. "I hate you so much."
"That's okay," Sam smirked. "YouTube is gonna love me."
Dark Angel for crazedcrusader, "Alec telling Max off post-'Hello, Goodbye'":Alec twisted in his seat, trying to grip Max's waist and scan the road at the same time. "Are they following us? I don't think they're following us. Why aren't they following us?"
"Because I'm fast and they suck," Max monotoned. She took a hard turn that forced Alec to cling tighter.
"Hey! Are you trying to throw me here?" He spat hair out of his mouth as it whipped behind her.
"Don't you think I'd have already dumped you if I had a choice?"
Alec laughed. "Oh, right, that's right, you're still sorry you inflicted me on the world."
Maybe it was his imagination, but maybe her back got a little stiffer just then. "I was angry when I said that."
"No kidding, Maxie. Not that I'm not grateful for you busting in and saving the day -- though not too soon, I'd like to note, which hurts my feelings a little, I've got to say--"
"Alec, I'm trying to make a getaway here. Are you gonna sit there and yap at me or can I drive?"
"I don't know, Max, maybe I'd better seize my opportunity to ask where the hell all your 'we've got to stick together' went the moment it was me in trouble. I notice you're perfectly ready to believe that Joshua's got a psycho twin alibi, but Alec? Oh no, he must be guilty, 'cause it's Alec!"
She skids to a halt in an ill-lit alley. "I said I was sorry, all right?" she snaps, kicking the stand up and dismounting.
"Actually, you didn't," he points out. "Where are we?"
"Close to my place," she says, and he can't tell if she's sullen or tired or just plain apathetic, because God forbid Max exhibit intonation or facial expressions. "You can't be seen out there. We'll lie low for a few hours until you can go somewhere else."
He shrugs inside his jacket, heavy against his shoulders. "Is this what it takes for you to invite me over to your place? If I'd have known better, I'd have gotten dropped by the cops way sooner."
She turns on him. "Just shut up, okay? For once? This isn't easy for me either."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Max sighs. "Just... come upstairs. I wasn't thinking before, but I'm trying to help you here."
Alec thins his lips, and bites back a slew of further commentary. Neither of them is happy about this, but they slip inside nonetheless, no choice to wait it out.
Check out the awesome she wrote in return!
Pushing Daisies/SPN for phoenixchilde, "Emerson Cod meets the Winchesters":Emerson Cod had been expecting a good day.
"Take me to him," said the stranger on the phone.
"Now wait just a second," Emerson started, quite ready to protest that he had no idea what possessed the man to believe he had connections in the resurrection business.
"I've got lots of money," he said. "Cold hard cash."
"Meet me at eleven," Emerson said, and gave him directions to the Piemaker's.
Yet when the mysterious stranger arrived at the Pie Hole, his deceased brother in tow, Emerson began to question whether ten thousand in untraceable bills was worth the sight of the body.
"That can't be sanitary," he said, boggling at the state of the corpse.
"Oh my God," said the Piemaker, hanging back in the doorway. "I don't think I want to hear from this guy how he died."
"We know how he died," grunted Sam. "It was hellhounds. Help me get him into this booth."
Emerson had had no intention of wrangling a bloody stiff into a plastic-coated seat at eleven o'clock on a weeknight. Every awkward movement of limbs and clothing sent him into his own head, planning a magnificently complicated knitware gun cozy.
"What's his name?" said Chuck, leaning close to examine the man's face.
"Dean," said Sam, hardly sparing her a glance.
"Dean," she repeated. "He looks like a nice guy."
Dean lurched to the side, because he had not been positioned to balance properly. Emerson heard the squelch of blood on plastic and wished he was somewhere that wasn't here.
Sam straightened Dean, and looked over at Chuck. "Hey, what kind of pie have you got?"
"All kinds," she answered. "You want some?"
"He will," said Sam, straightening a place setting that Dean had knocked aside.
"You know the rules, right?" asked the Piemaker, rolling back one sleeve. "Did someone tell you?"
Sam nodded. "I know. I'll stay here with him." The Pie Hole was quite quiet, all of a sudden.
Emerson claimed heartburn, and got out before he had to watch.
The rest are all related to milliways_bar.
Lethe and Prometheus for wicked_chaotic, "dating advice":Lethe wrinkles her nose.
"I do not think she would like that."
Prometheus blinks and sits back. "Why not? What's not to like?"
Lethe squints one eye shut. "For one, she is a girl."
He snorts. "I know that."
She grins a little. "So, she is smarter than you."
She doesn't giggle. Her reward -- a facial expression that doesn't know whether to be proud or put-upon -- is mighty.
Prometheus and Epimetheus for genarti, "a Ferris wheel":Epimetheus shakes his head. "I don't see the point."
"What point?" Prometheus gestures grandiosely at the Ferris wheel. "It lights up! It goes in a big circle! You can see things from high up! What more of a point do you need?"
"You've been saying that about an awful lot of things at Navy Pier," Epimetheus retorts dryly.
He shrugs and pulls a face. "I never said this place was the agora of Socrates. You don't come for enlightenment, you come for--"
"Bright lights?"
"Yes!" He grabs his little brother by the wrist. "Come on."
Epimetheus tries and fails to dig his heels in. "Whoa, wait, what?"
Prometheus looks back over his shoulder. "If I can't persuade you in the abstract, you're just going to have to find out for yourself!"
Scar and Prometheus for tahira_saki:Prometheus spreads his hands. "Look, I'm all for overthrowing authority figures when they deserve it, but your brother doesn't sound all that bad, as kings go."
Scar scowls. "It's to be expected. No one ever sees that I'm right." He pulls his daiquiri closer and sips moodily. "Not until it's too late, anyway," he adds, his shoulders poking up and his every aspect sinister, raspy and British.
Prometheus eyes him sidelong. "Yeah, I get that, to a certain extent."
Scar lifts one eyebrow.
Prometheus waves him off. "Forget it. Never mind. You gonna put your piece in or what?"
The Connect-4 match resumes.
X-23 and 494 for varadia:The psy-ops unit is confusing. The organization is not logical. Or perhaps it is the contents. There is no way to organize what Manticore does in these rooms.
X is climbing along the ceiling. It is not the fastest way in, but the people here do not look up. They watch their feet or they look at each other or they examine their own reflections as they pass.
She hears his designation spoken down the hall. "--disappointing about the twin, Deck," says a woman. "Just another anomaly?"
"This wasn't genetic," a man replies, gruff. "This was a social accident and nothing more."
"Still, you've got to admit, the model isn't holding up too well."
"He can be better."
"See that he is. I want him under observation for at least a month after he's been reset. Daily reports, you understand me?"
The man's face is impassive, but his voice, however quiet, isn't. "He's too good to throw away."
The woman tips her head. "Then see that he isn't."
She walks away first; after some time staring through a window, the man turns and disappears in the opposite direction. X waits for the hall to clear. It is a long time.
She drops to the floor when it is safe. She peers through the window: 494 is in there. He is strapped in to a chair, a red laser boring into his eye. She cannot hear him, but he is not still, for all he is strapped down.
X opens the door her way. She has reached her objective. Getting out will be okay: she has been here before.
Road trip hijinks for adiva_calandia:The most traumatic photograph to come from the fabled road trip involves Prometheus and Epimetheus wearing Mickey Mouse ears.
There is a larger context.
Coyote is not telling, out of concern for keeping the rest of the world safe.
Or perhaps she's just biding her time.
One might be pretending to be the other.
She'll show you the photo if you buy her a shot, though. No refunds if you lose control of your bodily functions.
Oof. My eyes are crossing so much. Is it can be time to be home now?
I finished all my drabble prompts! Thank you, one and all! For them as are curious, here's what happened:
dragstormaround/SPN for acherontia_styx, "Winchesters meet the Nightjar":The Nightjar had a man on her tail, and he wasn't going anywhere soon. She'd seen him at the club; he made like he was chatting up some sweet young thing, but she felt his eyes sure as sun through a magnifying glass.
So she led him, far and wide. She was in no hurry, and better to be rid of the boy. They did their dance through three different districts. She was far from her crime scene by the time she let him catch up.
"Going somewhere?" he asked in an undertone, over her shoulder in an alley somewhere. She turned to face him: up close, what a lovely man, clear eyes and a lively mouth.
"Sweetpea," she said, smiling, "you're really not my type."
"Yeah, good thing I never took up guitar." She felt the tickle of a blade teasing at her ribs. She didn't look down.
"You think some bit of silver's gonna waste me?"
He shrugged. "I think you haven't died since the thirties and when you're killin' people to do it, that isn't at all right."
"That's not the measure of it, not at all." She dropped her eyes to the space between them. "Why're you standing so close, boy? You know what I can do to you."
A hammer clicked back behind her ear. She stopped, stock still. "Because of these rounds, that's why," said a second man, one she didn't see coming. The Nightjar turned and looked at him: massive, controlled, already been dead. "Why're you killing bluesmen?" he asked, nothing in his face but professionalism and contempt.
"Because people do stupid things for love," she said, and watched them exchange flashing, questioning looks.
dragstormaround/Mythology for metaphor, "Epimetheus and Deanne":Ellie never even had a chance. As soon as the truck rolled to a stop, Deanne launched herself from the open passenger window and hurtled over the muddy grass to the river. Ellie yelled out her name, but there was no holding her back. In a streak of red, the coonhound threw herself into the mud and water.
"You're a fiend, you know that?" Ellie said, hopping down the bank and slipping her shoes off. "Was this always the plan?"
"Sorry," said Deanne, not sounding remotely sorry as she waded in the shoals. "But it's just too damn hot not to."
"We have to wait until you're dry before we go back, you realize. Plus you're gonna stink up the truck."
She lay down, the mud squishing audibly beneath her. "Yeah, I really can't get too worked up about it."
Ellie shook her head. "You're just trying to make me jealous."
"No reason you can't--" She stopped, her body suddenly tensing. Ellie frowned.
"What is it?"
"Holy shit," Deanne muttered, and climbed up out of the water.
Ellie turned around. A man was standing by the bumper of the truck, watching them. No other vehicle was in sight. "Hi there," she said, on her guard.
The man looked away from Deanne, who was trotting toward him with her tail pinwheeling. "Hi," he replied, beaming. Deanne, sopping wet and thoroughly muddy, pressed her face up against his knee.
Ellie blinked, baffled by Deanne's complete failure to be standoffish. "Something I can help you with?"
The man lowered himself to the ground: it was a long process of folding long limbs. Deanne climbed right into his lap, smearing his shirt with river muck. "Not really. I was just passing through, thought I'd say hi." His hands worked their way up Deanne's chin, behind her ears: she moaned ecstatically, curling into a half-sitting position.
Ellie came closer. "She really seems to like you," she said, brow still furrowed.
"Of course," Deanne sighed, her eyes fluttering. "Oh my god, that's lovely."
SPN for lilacsigil, "Dean and a really girly drink":Dean scowled in miniature in the camera phone's viewfinder. "This part isn't actually necessary, is it?"
Sam glanced up, barely containing his most gleeful grin. "You agreed to the terms, dude. Don't tell me I'm the only one man enough to hold up his end of the bargain."
"This is cruel and unusual," Dean snapped. "What have I ever done to deserve this?"
"You don't actually want me to answer that, do you?"
He paused. "No, I guess not. But seriously -- it's not too late to switch up to karaoke, is it?"
"Dean."
"I can't just stick my hand down a chupacabra's throat or something?"
Sam pounded him on the shoulder. "Losing's a bitch, isn't it? Lucky thing it tastes so sweet."
Dean demonstrated magnificently that Sam did not have a family monopoly on the bitchface. "Fine." He settled onto the barstool and flagged down the bartender, a burly guy with a hoop through his septum. "Hi," he said, radiating pain with his smile.
"Go on," Sam said, squinting down at the cell display.
Dean twitched. "One appletini, please. And a handle of Jack."
"Dean."
He dropped his forehead to the bar. "Just the appletini."
"Don't forget the umbrellas!" Sam added helpfully.
Dean glared daggers through the phone. "I hate you so much."
"That's okay," Sam smirked. "YouTube is gonna love me."
Dark Angel for crazedcrusader, "Alec telling Max off post-'Hello, Goodbye'":Alec twisted in his seat, trying to grip Max's waist and scan the road at the same time. "Are they following us? I don't think they're following us. Why aren't they following us?"
"Because I'm fast and they suck," Max monotoned. She took a hard turn that forced Alec to cling tighter.
"Hey! Are you trying to throw me here?" He spat hair out of his mouth as it whipped behind her.
"Don't you think I'd have already dumped you if I had a choice?"
Alec laughed. "Oh, right, that's right, you're still sorry you inflicted me on the world."
Maybe it was his imagination, but maybe her back got a little stiffer just then. "I was angry when I said that."
"No kidding, Maxie. Not that I'm not grateful for you busting in and saving the day -- though not too soon, I'd like to note, which hurts my feelings a little, I've got to say--"
"Alec, I'm trying to make a getaway here. Are you gonna sit there and yap at me or can I drive?"
"I don't know, Max, maybe I'd better seize my opportunity to ask where the hell all your 'we've got to stick together' went the moment it was me in trouble. I notice you're perfectly ready to believe that Joshua's got a psycho twin alibi, but Alec? Oh no, he must be guilty, 'cause it's Alec!"
She skids to a halt in an ill-lit alley. "I said I was sorry, all right?" she snaps, kicking the stand up and dismounting.
"Actually, you didn't," he points out. "Where are we?"
"Close to my place," she says, and he can't tell if she's sullen or tired or just plain apathetic, because God forbid Max exhibit intonation or facial expressions. "You can't be seen out there. We'll lie low for a few hours until you can go somewhere else."
He shrugs inside his jacket, heavy against his shoulders. "Is this what it takes for you to invite me over to your place? If I'd have known better, I'd have gotten dropped by the cops way sooner."
She turns on him. "Just shut up, okay? For once? This isn't easy for me either."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Max sighs. "Just... come upstairs. I wasn't thinking before, but I'm trying to help you here."
Alec thins his lips, and bites back a slew of further commentary. Neither of them is happy about this, but they slip inside nonetheless, no choice to wait it out.
Check out the awesome she wrote in return!
Pushing Daisies/SPN for phoenixchilde, "Emerson Cod meets the Winchesters":Emerson Cod had been expecting a good day.
"Take me to him," said the stranger on the phone.
"Now wait just a second," Emerson started, quite ready to protest that he had no idea what possessed the man to believe he had connections in the resurrection business.
"I've got lots of money," he said. "Cold hard cash."
"Meet me at eleven," Emerson said, and gave him directions to the Piemaker's.
Yet when the mysterious stranger arrived at the Pie Hole, his deceased brother in tow, Emerson began to question whether ten thousand in untraceable bills was worth the sight of the body.
"That can't be sanitary," he said, boggling at the state of the corpse.
"Oh my God," said the Piemaker, hanging back in the doorway. "I don't think I want to hear from this guy how he died."
"We know how he died," grunted Sam. "It was hellhounds. Help me get him into this booth."
Emerson had had no intention of wrangling a bloody stiff into a plastic-coated seat at eleven o'clock on a weeknight. Every awkward movement of limbs and clothing sent him into his own head, planning a magnificently complicated knitware gun cozy.
"What's his name?" said Chuck, leaning close to examine the man's face.
"Dean," said Sam, hardly sparing her a glance.
"Dean," she repeated. "He looks like a nice guy."
Dean lurched to the side, because he had not been positioned to balance properly. Emerson heard the squelch of blood on plastic and wished he was somewhere that wasn't here.
Sam straightened Dean, and looked over at Chuck. "Hey, what kind of pie have you got?"
"All kinds," she answered. "You want some?"
"He will," said Sam, straightening a place setting that Dean had knocked aside.
"You know the rules, right?" asked the Piemaker, rolling back one sleeve. "Did someone tell you?"
Sam nodded. "I know. I'll stay here with him." The Pie Hole was quite quiet, all of a sudden.
Emerson claimed heartburn, and got out before he had to watch.
The rest are all related to milliways_bar.
Lethe and Prometheus for wicked_chaotic, "dating advice":Lethe wrinkles her nose.
"I do not think she would like that."
Prometheus blinks and sits back. "Why not? What's not to like?"
Lethe squints one eye shut. "For one, she is a girl."
He snorts. "I know that."
She grins a little. "So, she is smarter than you."
She doesn't giggle. Her reward -- a facial expression that doesn't know whether to be proud or put-upon -- is mighty.
Prometheus and Epimetheus for genarti, "a Ferris wheel":Epimetheus shakes his head. "I don't see the point."
"What point?" Prometheus gestures grandiosely at the Ferris wheel. "It lights up! It goes in a big circle! You can see things from high up! What more of a point do you need?"
"You've been saying that about an awful lot of things at Navy Pier," Epimetheus retorts dryly.
He shrugs and pulls a face. "I never said this place was the agora of Socrates. You don't come for enlightenment, you come for--"
"Bright lights?"
"Yes!" He grabs his little brother by the wrist. "Come on."
Epimetheus tries and fails to dig his heels in. "Whoa, wait, what?"
Prometheus looks back over his shoulder. "If I can't persuade you in the abstract, you're just going to have to find out for yourself!"
Scar and Prometheus for tahira_saki:Prometheus spreads his hands. "Look, I'm all for overthrowing authority figures when they deserve it, but your brother doesn't sound all that bad, as kings go."
Scar scowls. "It's to be expected. No one ever sees that I'm right." He pulls his daiquiri closer and sips moodily. "Not until it's too late, anyway," he adds, his shoulders poking up and his every aspect sinister, raspy and British.
Prometheus eyes him sidelong. "Yeah, I get that, to a certain extent."
Scar lifts one eyebrow.
Prometheus waves him off. "Forget it. Never mind. You gonna put your piece in or what?"
The Connect-4 match resumes.
X-23 and 494 for varadia:The psy-ops unit is confusing. The organization is not logical. Or perhaps it is the contents. There is no way to organize what Manticore does in these rooms.
X is climbing along the ceiling. It is not the fastest way in, but the people here do not look up. They watch their feet or they look at each other or they examine their own reflections as they pass.
She hears his designation spoken down the hall. "--disappointing about the twin, Deck," says a woman. "Just another anomaly?"
"This wasn't genetic," a man replies, gruff. "This was a social accident and nothing more."
"Still, you've got to admit, the model isn't holding up too well."
"He can be better."
"See that he is. I want him under observation for at least a month after he's been reset. Daily reports, you understand me?"
The man's face is impassive, but his voice, however quiet, isn't. "He's too good to throw away."
The woman tips her head. "Then see that he isn't."
She walks away first; after some time staring through a window, the man turns and disappears in the opposite direction. X waits for the hall to clear. It is a long time.
She drops to the floor when it is safe. She peers through the window: 494 is in there. He is strapped in to a chair, a red laser boring into his eye. She cannot hear him, but he is not still, for all he is strapped down.
X opens the door her way. She has reached her objective. Getting out will be okay: she has been here before.
Road trip hijinks for adiva_calandia:The most traumatic photograph to come from the fabled road trip involves Prometheus and Epimetheus wearing Mickey Mouse ears.
There is a larger context.
Coyote is not telling, out of concern for keeping the rest of the world safe.
Or perhaps she's just biding her time.
One might be pretending to be the other.
She'll show you the photo if you buy her a shot, though. No refunds if you lose control of your bodily functions.
Oof. My eyes are crossing so much. Is it can be time to be home now?