Drabble tennis, II
Again: free-for-all drabble spam, any and all comments welcome, any and all characters played by any of the participants are fair game. List here. Previous game may be viewed here. Cy won. Hmf.Comment with a prompt, and others may fill it for you. Anyone replying with a drabble will include a prompt with their drabble, which the original prompter
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/HUFF
/PROMPTS
Fighting for no reward
Cold in the rain I'm tossing and turning your words ever burning my heart
Love's an electric storm of pleasure and pain where thunder and lightening are crashing And
Striking us down
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(The comment has been removed)
(fever)
hot sun up above. It laps at his shoulder, chest, face, more waves rocking him as Flynn jumps in again. Yuri laughs, splashing the other boy, and his long hair fans around him in the water. He looks like he belongs there, part boy, part nymph, all energy and restlessness and the tiny vibrations his heart makes in the water every time it beats.
It is, in a mind filled with thoughts of poverty and hunger, one of the best memories he owns.
That's when it changes.
All of a sudden, he's underwater, far deeper than the well could allow. It is dark, down there. Dark and cold and silent. Even the waves have stopped their cheery caresses. Yuri is already choking for air, looking up for a bit of brightness in the gloom that could mean sun and air. What he finds, again and again, is a body ( ... )
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OH RIAN
THIS IS
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
/ONLY WISHES IT WERE NOT SO DAMN LATE
/WILL DRABBLE TENNIS WITH YOU IN THE MORNING!
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After the world has ended this will be one thing that she can still remember, the image standing out in sharp detail amidst the ruins of her mind: the look of relief on the boy's face, that brilliant smile: it doesn't hurt. And: I'm alive. Uni feels her own lips mirror that smile ( ... )
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"Why are you here?" she says at last, even though she already knows the answer.
He's read her understanding in her eyes, but his reply is exquisitely courteous. "You understand," he says. "It's not uncommon to test the mettle of the blade one intends to acquire."
Something rises in her, hot and choking. In another world, it might have been rage. "I am no acquisition."
"No," he says, continuing to smile. "You're not."
One moment of absolute nothing -- then the force of the revelation slams into her and takes her breath away, and suddenly there is no room for words. There is no room for air. Uni tries to breathe past this -- no, it's not fear. Horror, inescapable ( ... )
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and dress them in warm clothes again.“Cold, Megara ( ... )
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/LONG
/LONG
/AND GLEEFUL
/LAUGHTER
I LOVE YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU
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IDK
I'M SURE AIZEN HAS SOMETHING IN MIND
DEALS WITH DEATH, AND ALL THAT
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HM MAYBE HE'S MARRYING SUSAN
AND IS ASKING PERMISSION?
8D?
/LAUGHS FOREVER
I'M A HORRIBLE PERSON I KNOW
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When one swims in icy water for long enough, coming out again was a test in agony. Ever muscle screamed as heat rewarmed them and gravity tugged on each joint like rusty wires set in bone. Soon, all one wants is to return to the water that slowly saps your life.
Shinjiro sat on the edge of the world, his legs pulled up to his chest and the winds of the empty below world cutting into his center. He had never seen the edge of Reial so close before, for good reason. There were whispers that strange beasts lived there, ready to snag wanderers down into the clouds below.
Such an end seemed fitting to him.
Something draped over his shoulders, and he flinched away. A small Tch of annoyance calmed him. He recognized it, held it's bitterness close to his on heart. Shinjiro looked up just as Meg sat next to him, looking over the edge herself. The fabric on his shoulders ( ... )
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What he doesn’t expect is the pampering beforehand. Scrubbed clean until his skin is almost raw, hair brushed and tied back, tamed into something respectable, and clothes that have certainly never been worn by a dead man, brand new and tailored to fit. The dab of cologne Gin put on his collarbones makes his nose itch, but it’s also kind of appealing, sharp and fresh. He feels like he’s a stone being polished up to show some value at the market. Worse, for once he’s almost starting to feel like he has value. For all the twisting and the hurt, Gin’s compliments and bizarre affections have started to work their way through his defences. He doesn’t rely on them, but they’re…nice. He gets a sick pleasure whenever Gin tells him he’s done a good job ( ... )
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And I shall drabble respond when I have my laptop baaaack~
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In the room: death.
A creature is ripping men apart with an ease that borders on the impossible. It's a blur of red and white and red moving in unholy exultation, tearing off limbs the way women pluck petals from daisies, punctuating screams with the crack of bone. The creature draws its arm across a man's throat, and through the sudden geyser of blood Aizen can quite clearly see nerves and flesh before the neck snaps back and breaks. Interest sparks in his eyes when the creature drives its hand into another man's stomach -- very good, that sort of penetration meant its hierro had developed nicely -- and wrenches to emerge with the man's insides, glistening and clotted with gore, clenched in its fist ( ... )
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/sobs
/wants this oh god why
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