Drabble Meme Round-Up
Drabble Meme Round-Up
The meme:The first ten people to comment in this post get to request a drabble (I'm going with the 100 words sharp definition) of any pairing/character of their choosing of any fandom I am familiar with from me (with a prompt, if it pleases you to give me one).
The result: Five fandoms, two of which I have never written before. Eleven drabbles, but I cheated and not only stole that-which-was-not-my-prompt but also wrote two sequel drabbles. And I pushed my boundaries with a bit of implied BDSM.
I'm satisfied with this round.
Aubreyad:
For esteven: a mere observation, (Jack, Stephen, PG)
The silence stretches, and the officers' eyes drift from their plates to their captain, whose skin is flushed a deeper red now than food and drink and laughter justify, indignation and embarrassment warring on his face. The only one who without a care continues to consume his meal is the offender himself.
The captain clears his throat, straightens until his imposing figure towers over his companion.
"Doctor, I hope you-"
The doctor waves a fork-carrying hand at him placatorily, sprinkling the white tablecloth with sauce, without even looking up.
"This is not a comment, but a mere observation of course."
Sharpe:
For latin_cat: Sharpe/Welly, (Sharpe, Wellington, PG, implied slash)
They huddle around two fires, him and the Chosen Men, any distance of rank that remained long driven out by the cold sitting deep in their bones, biting their faces, colouring their stiff fingers purple and blue where they try to curl them around mugs of watery soup.
Sharpe looks up when he feels eyes on him, their stare as icy-blue and impenetrable as winter itself, but the other man urges his horse on immediately.
He shifts back from the fire, making more room for those who'll be out all night.
He'll sleep in a tent wrapped in warm arms.
The Pacific:
For ilthit: The Pacific in space (Sledge, PG-13)
What Eugene remembers most from his time on Peleliu is not the landing (screams in his ear and silent explosions, come and gone in a flash of used-up oxygen). It's not the sour taste in his mouth and the pressure behind his eyes of water and air recycled too often. It's not the ruins of the buildings, cracked open like eggs and vulnerable innards frozen dead.
It's learning to turn off his comm to sleep and waking up heaving and hoarse, while Snafu on watch remained oblivious, attention focussed on the sky.
In space no one can hear you scream.
For rei17: Snafu/Sledge, nightmare (Sledge, Snafu, PG-13)
Eugene sleeps uneasily. He hasn't slept a night through since landing on Peleliu, woken by a hand on his arms, calling him to attention, or, more often, by the hand covering his mouth carefully but firmly and withdrawing with a whispered apology or an order to get back to sleep. He doesn't mind; it's a reassurance, a comfort.
Snafu sleeps unmoving and silent. It's only when Eugene wakes him that he springs into action, knife at Gene's throat immediately and sometimes leaving a hairline of blood when it withdraws one breath later with a whispered apology.
This, too, is reassuring.
*
Snafu has no trouble sleeping. He knows he needs rest, it's keeping him alive, so he gets it, simple as that.
It doesn't come as easily to Sledge, and Snafu cherishes and worries about that.
Snafu wakes easily too. The perfect marine, halfway through the kill before he's even awake. It's keeping him alive.
He wakes with a knife in his hand and at Sledgehammer's throat, never quite silent, never quite unmoving.
He dreams of a knife in his hand and Sledgehammer still beneath him, never to move again.
He worries about that, and cherishes that he can still worry.
The Social Network:
For tootsiemuppet: TSN, vampires. It would explain the long nights ( Dustin, Eduardo/Mark, R, dub-con)
It's nine in the morning. People are either already sitting in their morning classes, or still in bed. Dustin really didn't have a reason to not walk out of his room with his, uh, drink. Then he looks up, snorts liquid, and the bag falls to the floor.
Wardo's eyes are blown , his head lolling lazily, sluggishly on the backrest, drugged.Throat exposed, crimson smeared dark on his skin, even darker on Mark's pale face now looking up at Dustin calculatingly.
Apparently he's not the only one of them with a taste for blood.
He wonders if Mark ever shares.
*
Dustin will have to clean the spilled blood off the floor soon before it dries in stains (he's got experience with that), but for now he's standing over the couch, snapping his fingers in front of Wardo's face.
His eyes stay heavy-lidded and half-closed without even twitching, and his body remains motionless where Mark straddles him, hands splayed greedily over his chest as he laps at his neck, revealing small, neat incisions as he cleans off the blood.
Dustin watches and remembers complaints about shaving cuts.
"Mark, how consenting is Wardo?"
"…He does keep telling me I should eat something."
For yellowwolf5: Mark/Eduardo, heatwave (Mark, Eduardo, PG, implied one-sided Mark/Eduardo)
Mark hates the heat.
The air is muggy and smells of sweat, and the keyboard turned uncomfortably sticky beneath his fingers. He's in Eduardo's North-facing single, lying back on his bed as Eduardo, disgustingly chipper, rejoins him, still wet from a quick cold shower.
His arm is cool enough to trigger goosebumps where he brushes against Mark, and there's water shining on his naked skin, single droplets moving as his chest heaves. His hair is a dripping mess soaking into the sheets, and his eyes sparkle as he grins at Mark, happy and unaware.
Mark swallows.
He hates the heat.
For rei17: Mark/Eduardo, post-depositions: Stuck in an elevator together... and Mark is claustrophobic (Mark, Eduardo, PG)
Eduardo forces himself to the meetings, religiously wearing a professional cold mask of not caring on his face that comes easier and easier.
But it's been twenty minutes (only, already), the others stare at the man hugging his knees and hiding his face behind them with pity, towering above him.
The picture tugs at something inside of him he thought had died.
He gestures at the people to back off, then sinks to his knees himself, one hand next to the man, close enough should he reach out but not touching.
Eventually fingers tighten around Eduardo's hand.
He squeezes back.
For ohnvm: h/c with mark doing the hurting and wardo doing the comforting post-dep (not only was this prompt not meant for me, I also took the liberty of… re-interpreting - sorry, I'm a horrible person) (Dustin, Eduardo, Mark, implied BDSM, R)
"Oh, I'm sorry, did you want to say something? That's too bad, you don't get to speak now. You lost that privilege when you didn't speak up then despite knowing that I tend to get too single-minded."
Mark pulls, hard, and Dustin inhales sharply and is almost grateful for the small distraction of the gag digging into the corners of his mouth.
A hand brushes his hair out of his face where it clings to his hot, sweaty skin, and Dustin leans into the cool, tender touch.
"It's okay. I forgive you."
Eduardo keeps stroking his face while Mark continues.
X-Men: First Class:
For tootsiemuppet: X-Men: First Class, normal (Charles, Erik, PG-13)
"Erik."
Charles pushed his chair closer, face and voice full of compassion that made Erik want to push him away, reach and throw him against the wall with a clank and pain-filled groan, but Charles didn't budge.
"No. I will not, I cannot."
"Erik. My friend, please. I know it's hard, but you are safe and free and healthy. You'll adjust. I'll help you."
Erik narrowed his eyes and let his voice drip disdain.
"I wouldn't were our roles reversed."
Now Charles flinched back.
Good.
Erik could not live like this, and he would not have Charles watch him die.
The meme:The first ten people to comment in this post get to request a drabble (I'm going with the 100 words sharp definition) of any pairing/character of their choosing of any fandom I am familiar with from me (with a prompt, if it pleases you to give me one).
The result: Five fandoms, two of which I have never written before. Eleven drabbles, but I cheated and not only stole that-which-was-not-my-prompt but also wrote two sequel drabbles. And I pushed my boundaries with a bit of implied BDSM.
I'm satisfied with this round.
Aubreyad:
For esteven: a mere observation, (Jack, Stephen, PG)
The silence stretches, and the officers' eyes drift from their plates to their captain, whose skin is flushed a deeper red now than food and drink and laughter justify, indignation and embarrassment warring on his face. The only one who without a care continues to consume his meal is the offender himself.
The captain clears his throat, straightens until his imposing figure towers over his companion.
"Doctor, I hope you-"
The doctor waves a fork-carrying hand at him placatorily, sprinkling the white tablecloth with sauce, without even looking up.
"This is not a comment, but a mere observation of course."
Sharpe:
For latin_cat: Sharpe/Welly, (Sharpe, Wellington, PG, implied slash)
They huddle around two fires, him and the Chosen Men, any distance of rank that remained long driven out by the cold sitting deep in their bones, biting their faces, colouring their stiff fingers purple and blue where they try to curl them around mugs of watery soup.
Sharpe looks up when he feels eyes on him, their stare as icy-blue and impenetrable as winter itself, but the other man urges his horse on immediately.
He shifts back from the fire, making more room for those who'll be out all night.
He'll sleep in a tent wrapped in warm arms.
The Pacific:
For ilthit: The Pacific in space (Sledge, PG-13)
What Eugene remembers most from his time on Peleliu is not the landing (screams in his ear and silent explosions, come and gone in a flash of used-up oxygen). It's not the sour taste in his mouth and the pressure behind his eyes of water and air recycled too often. It's not the ruins of the buildings, cracked open like eggs and vulnerable innards frozen dead.
It's learning to turn off his comm to sleep and waking up heaving and hoarse, while Snafu on watch remained oblivious, attention focussed on the sky.
In space no one can hear you scream.
For rei17: Snafu/Sledge, nightmare (Sledge, Snafu, PG-13)
Eugene sleeps uneasily. He hasn't slept a night through since landing on Peleliu, woken by a hand on his arms, calling him to attention, or, more often, by the hand covering his mouth carefully but firmly and withdrawing with a whispered apology or an order to get back to sleep. He doesn't mind; it's a reassurance, a comfort.
Snafu sleeps unmoving and silent. It's only when Eugene wakes him that he springs into action, knife at Gene's throat immediately and sometimes leaving a hairline of blood when it withdraws one breath later with a whispered apology.
This, too, is reassuring.
*
Snafu has no trouble sleeping. He knows he needs rest, it's keeping him alive, so he gets it, simple as that.
It doesn't come as easily to Sledge, and Snafu cherishes and worries about that.
Snafu wakes easily too. The perfect marine, halfway through the kill before he's even awake. It's keeping him alive.
He wakes with a knife in his hand and at Sledgehammer's throat, never quite silent, never quite unmoving.
He dreams of a knife in his hand and Sledgehammer still beneath him, never to move again.
He worries about that, and cherishes that he can still worry.
The Social Network:
For tootsiemuppet: TSN, vampires. It would explain the long nights ( Dustin, Eduardo/Mark, R, dub-con)
It's nine in the morning. People are either already sitting in their morning classes, or still in bed. Dustin really didn't have a reason to not walk out of his room with his, uh, drink. Then he looks up, snorts liquid, and the bag falls to the floor.
Wardo's eyes are blown , his head lolling lazily, sluggishly on the backrest, drugged.Throat exposed, crimson smeared dark on his skin, even darker on Mark's pale face now looking up at Dustin calculatingly.
Apparently he's not the only one of them with a taste for blood.
He wonders if Mark ever shares.
*
Dustin will have to clean the spilled blood off the floor soon before it dries in stains (he's got experience with that), but for now he's standing over the couch, snapping his fingers in front of Wardo's face.
His eyes stay heavy-lidded and half-closed without even twitching, and his body remains motionless where Mark straddles him, hands splayed greedily over his chest as he laps at his neck, revealing small, neat incisions as he cleans off the blood.
Dustin watches and remembers complaints about shaving cuts.
"Mark, how consenting is Wardo?"
"…He does keep telling me I should eat something."
For yellowwolf5: Mark/Eduardo, heatwave (Mark, Eduardo, PG, implied one-sided Mark/Eduardo)
Mark hates the heat.
The air is muggy and smells of sweat, and the keyboard turned uncomfortably sticky beneath his fingers. He's in Eduardo's North-facing single, lying back on his bed as Eduardo, disgustingly chipper, rejoins him, still wet from a quick cold shower.
His arm is cool enough to trigger goosebumps where he brushes against Mark, and there's water shining on his naked skin, single droplets moving as his chest heaves. His hair is a dripping mess soaking into the sheets, and his eyes sparkle as he grins at Mark, happy and unaware.
Mark swallows.
He hates the heat.
For rei17: Mark/Eduardo, post-depositions: Stuck in an elevator together... and Mark is claustrophobic (Mark, Eduardo, PG)
Eduardo forces himself to the meetings, religiously wearing a professional cold mask of not caring on his face that comes easier and easier.
But it's been twenty minutes (only, already), the others stare at the man hugging his knees and hiding his face behind them with pity, towering above him.
The picture tugs at something inside of him he thought had died.
He gestures at the people to back off, then sinks to his knees himself, one hand next to the man, close enough should he reach out but not touching.
Eventually fingers tighten around Eduardo's hand.
He squeezes back.
For ohnvm: h/c with mark doing the hurting and wardo doing the comforting post-dep (not only was this prompt not meant for me, I also took the liberty of… re-interpreting - sorry, I'm a horrible person) (Dustin, Eduardo, Mark, implied BDSM, R)
"Oh, I'm sorry, did you want to say something? That's too bad, you don't get to speak now. You lost that privilege when you didn't speak up then despite knowing that I tend to get too single-minded."
Mark pulls, hard, and Dustin inhales sharply and is almost grateful for the small distraction of the gag digging into the corners of his mouth.
A hand brushes his hair out of his face where it clings to his hot, sweaty skin, and Dustin leans into the cool, tender touch.
"It's okay. I forgive you."
Eduardo keeps stroking his face while Mark continues.
X-Men: First Class:
For tootsiemuppet: X-Men: First Class, normal (Charles, Erik, PG-13)
"Erik."
Charles pushed his chair closer, face and voice full of compassion that made Erik want to push him away, reach and throw him against the wall with a clank and pain-filled groan, but Charles didn't budge.
"No. I will not, I cannot."
"Erik. My friend, please. I know it's hard, but you are safe and free and healthy. You'll adjust. I'll help you."
Erik narrowed his eyes and let his voice drip disdain.
"I wouldn't were our roles reversed."
Now Charles flinched back.
Good.
Erik could not live like this, and he would not have Charles watch him die.