Come With Oz Drabble Tree If You Want To Live
This is our 10th DRABBLE TREE! It's hard to believe that we've made it this far. There may be a special bonus for anyone who contributes more than 10 drabbles to the tree, but you'll have to wait and see! If you want, take a look at the other nine drabble trees: The First Ever Oz Drabble Tree, The Return of Oz Drabble Tree, The Little Oz Drabble
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Miguel hadn't realized the hunger he had for the night sky until he saw it again. He knew he needed to keep on running, or they'd catch him, but he couldn't help sparing a few minutes each night to stare at the stars. Before Oz had turned his days into an interlocked string of fear and boredom, he hadn't noticed things like how the stars looked liked diamonds against black velvet.
Enough of this romantic bullshit. He had to keep moving, and then when he was somewhere safe, he could spend as long as he wanted gazing at the sky.
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When he was younger Chris never really got the point of flowers, dates or any of that other romantic bullshit. Sure girls were supposed to like it but he got them to put out just as easy with having to use any of that crap. Was nothing but a waste of money. But now he was starting to have a change of heart. He kept having dreams about Beecher. Nothing new there but they had never been like this before. Gone were the ones about quickies in the shower or creative uses for Beecher's tongue and replaced with candle lit dinners and whispering sweet nothings while they looked up at the moon. Figures that would happen now that the rest of his life was going to be spent locked up. Life really loved to fuck him in the ass.
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Nino and I, we had dreams then...
"Oh, will you stop? Now why is it everytime we're on the same page - I told you a thousand times - "
"Sure...Mr. Nappa..." Nat Ginzburg winked.
Nappa sighed, end of his rope. "Will it help if I give Angie a bigger role?! I'll have you know, they got along better than we ever did!"
"Honey, fandom lesson #1, the two male leads will always be the fan-prefered couple, 'less it's yuri. And especially if they don't get along. It's called UST. Now, will I have to explain those to you too?...Antonio, you okay there?"
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Working in Oz has tested his faith. He’s been held hostage by Miguel, survived a horrific bus crash and barely escaped from a burning parish, but nothing has scarred his soul like the accusations that Timmy Kirk has leveled at him. This accusation alone has seared itself into his whole being like nothing else has and he carries the weight of it around his neck like a dumbbell.
“Our Father which art in heaven,” he begins, his fingers clutching the pages of his worn Old Testament. He is suddenly so tired.
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Didn't matter that everything around him spun and spun in a gray haze. Miguel Alvarez was on top of the world. "Who's a beautiful baby...hey...I'm your Papí...you hear me? I will protect you..."
"Miguel, your baby's dead." No, no he's not...he's right here...safe with me. As long as I never let that go. "Miguel," the voice repeated itself, unrelenting. "Miguel." What is it baby? What's the matter? Come on - Papí's got you - come on - breathe...
"I love you so much..."
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He smiles as he runs his thumb over the delicate eyelashes, down the tiny nose and across the small full lips.
“She looks like you.”
Rivera hears the exhaustion in Tina’s voice. She’s just spent 16 hours in labor.
“Yeah?” His thumb grazes baby Bernice’s miniature fingers.
“Yeah.”
He pulls the blanket up to her chin and reaches for his walking stick. Even without seeing her, he knows she is perfect.
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"Breathe, Ray... Stay with me..."
His eyes open. Burning pain flares through his whole body and a weak moan escapes him, triggering violent coughs.
He sees one of the priests who lives with him. He's checking Ray over, listening to his raspy, labored breathing.
"An ambulance is on the way, just hold on until then," Father Douglas says softly.
"What... happened?..." Ray whispers, voice hoarse.
"A fire broke out in the kitchen."
Ray nods, the motion dizzying. He isn't even aware of passing out.
He doesn't know that years later, he'll still wake up drenched in sweat because of the nightmares about this night.
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Everyone could see that Mukada wasn't feeling well. His voice made it clear that his nose was stuffy and his throat was sore, and judging by the warm clothes, he had a fever. All attempts by the staff to get him to take a day off failed.
Miguel got the guards to take him in to the priest's office. "You okay?" he asked, walking in.
Ray smiled weakly. "I'm fine, just a little under the weather."
"Feel better, padre," Miguel said softly, grabbing Ray's hand gently.
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