Drabble Challenge - Post #1
Because of the large quantity of drabble requests (30!), I've decided to post them in groups of five as I write them. There's no rhyme or reason to which ones I've started with; it's just been as the inspiration comes to me. I really want these to have some thought behind them, so be patient.
Please comment and let me know what you think, even if you haven't read these fandoms or didn't request these prompts. I'd love to know what you think! (Emma said I should blackmail you all into commenting by saying that people who DO comment will have a better chance of seeing one of their requests in the next posting...I'm not THAT cruel but it might not hurt *winks*)
Fandoms included: The Devil Wears Prada, The L Word, Gilmore Girls, Grey's Anatomy
Requests by: burningeden , mrschimpf , gin781 , ellipsisoveruse , and an anonymous commenter.
Title: The Heart Doctor Reluctantly Wears Prada
Prompt: Callica meets Mirandy
Fandom: Callie/Erica, Grey's Anatomy
Requested by: gin781
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 326
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: I know this may not be exactly what you had in mind, but this was the first idea that popped into my head upon reading this prompt. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!
-
"What are you doing?"
"Uh. Nothing," Callie says, too quickly. "How was your day? Long, huh?" She spins in her computer chair and squares her shoulders, hiding the computer behind her.
"Complications during my last surgery," Erica replies, peeking over Callie's shoulder. "Callie, are you looking at those websites again?"
"What? Oh." Callie blushes. "No! No, not exactly."
"Then what exactly is it?"
Callie glances back at the computer screen, chews nervously at her cheek, and looks back at her lover. "Okay. Hear me out."
"I'm listening." Erica crosses her arms over her chest. Callie, noticing her disapproval, pulls her into her lap.
"So you remember that movie we were watching on tv the other night?"
"The one you insisted was gay when it wasn't?"
"It so was! They check each other out so many times! Even the boyfriend made that comment about how constantly taking calls from her boss made that her real relationship!" Callie winces, realizing that she's not helping her case. She clears her throat. "Anyway, I was a little bored and I stumbled across this website…"
Erica purses her lips but looks at the computer screen anyway. "Stories? You're reading?"
"There's a whole community of people who back up my argument that the women in the movie are totally gay for each other."
"Mmhmm," Erica says, leaning closer to the screen. "I can't help but notice that the only links you've viewed are the porny ones."
"Well," Callie admits sheepishly, "can you blame a girl?"
"You're hopeless."
"You love me anyway."
Erica rolls her eyes. "You're lucky I do. So what are these stories about?"
"Oh, whatever the writer wants, really. They insert the boss and the assistant into a variety of situations and, more often than not, hot lovin' ensues."
Erica surprises them both by laughing. "All right. I'll bite. Why don't you print one out while I shower and then you can read it to me in bed?"
Callie grins.
---
Title: Such Civil War
Prompt: poetry
Fandom: Miranda/Andy, The Devil Wears Prada
Requested by: ellipsisoveruse
Rating: PG
Word Count: 319
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: I reread 154 Shakespeare sonnets until I found the right one, but I only had to get to Sonnet 35 to find THE one. How perfect is this for Mirandy?
-
When Andy had heard through the grapevine that various public figures had lent their voices to a charity CD benefiting a literacy program for Manhattan's underprivileged youth, she stumbled over herself to buy the two-disc set. Rudy Guiliani and Hillary Rodham Clinton had participated and the drop of the former first lady's name had sent her head reeling in a bevy of excitement. It was money well spent and she'd even signed up to volunteer.
She wasted no time in rushing back to her apartment and inserting the first disc into the stereo. She listened to the mayor's introduction, poured herself a glass of wine, and snuggled into the couch.
Each participant recited various poems or read passages from classic novels. An excerpt from Jane Eyre made her downright giddy.
But the giddiness was fleeting. She choked on her wine as a shockingly familiar woman recited, "'Sonnet Thirty-five' by William Shakespeare, read by Miranda Priestly." Andy shot up, sitting ramrod straight on the couch as her former employer's smooth, melodious voice delivered the fourteen line verse of mutual wrong-doing. Andy repeated the track thirteen times, memorizing the slight intonations in Miranda's voice, the silky web of words woven around her body like a constricting bow.
With trembling hands, Andy pulled out the small booklet that accompanied the discs. According to a letter from the program's founder, each participant volunteered and chose his or her own reading selections. Miranda chose this poem, a poem all but addressing a love-hate relationship.
It was devastatingly familiar. It was as if the months since she walked away in Paris had melted away and no longer existed. Andy was being presumptuous in her assumption that Miranda had some sort of grand design in choosing this particular poem for this particular project. It was conceited and probably wrong to think that it had to do with her in any way.
But what if it did?
---
Title: Connections
Prompt: The Chart, distance, vacation
Fandom: Alice/Lorelai, The L Word/Gilmore Girls
Requested by: mrschimpf
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 432
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: Okay, the two of them seem so freakin' perfect for each other that it boggles the mind. I hope you like their little interaction here! I HAD to end it where I did, otherwise I'd have kept going and this would have turned into something that does not fit the definition of a drabble.
-
"Do you have a larger coffee cup than this? A trough maybe? An IV? That hat with the beer holders and the straws? I'll take anything you have. I'm a little desperate here." Lorelai batted her eyelashes.
The woman, who someone had referred to as Kit, sized up the petite brunette and shook her head. "How 'bout I just leave the pot here?"
"I love you. I do. If I weren't done with the whole kid thing, I'd name the next one after you."
Kit laughed. "I best not be scraping you off the floor after you have a caffeine seizure."
"No worries there. I'm immune."
Kit clapped her hand on Lorelai's shoulder and went back to tend to the growing line at the counter. Lorelai, meanwhile, sipped her coffee and closed her eyes as the java soothed her throat. It had been something like three hours since her last cup and upon discovering The Planet, she sought immediate sustenance. It was heaven. It was java heroin and she loved every last drop of it. It helped her feel grounded. It kept her moderately sane after the completely neurotic, impulsive decision to run away to California for the weekend. She needed to get away from exes and inns and a town where everyone knew everyone else's business. She needed to get lost in the crowd for a while.
"You better share the wealth if you're going to hog it here," a blonde woman said, seating herself at Lorelai's table. She smiled as she scratched her arm, drawing Lorelai's attention to the tattoo of stars that curled around her bicep.
"Oh. Sorry," Lorelai replied with a guilty smile.
The woman refilled her mug. "I'm Alice Pieszecki. Of The Chart. You might have heard of me."
Lorelai gave an awkward smile. "I haven't. But in my defense, I'm not from around here. Just visiting."
Alice seemed a little deflated at not being recognized. She hid her fallen smile behind her coffee cup and brushed aside a lock of cropped blonde hair. Lorelai felt a flutter and was momentarily rendered speechless at the sight of her.
"Ah well, can't win 'em all." Alice cocked her head to the side and smiled, the lock of hair falling over her brow again. "Tell me your name and I won't feel too badly about it."
Lorelai grinned and leaned forward. There was something about this woman that she liked immensely. She decided that she didn't mind sharing her coffee or her table or anything else that this woman might ask. She was beginning to like California very much.
---
Title: Running
Prompt: Middle East; "Don't Go" by Fascinoma
Fandom: Miranda/Andy, The Devil Wears Prada
Requested by: Anonymous
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 409
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: Who are you, anonymous requester of this prompt?? Either way, enjoy. You can all hear the song here.
-
Accepting an assignment covering the recent terrorist strikes in Afghanistan seemed more appealing than staying in New York.
Dying as a casualty of war had its advantages over dying of a broken heart. With the war, it was a hell of a lot more likely that it would be over before Andy could even comprehend what had happened. The alternative? Sit at home and endure the pain of a thousand knives stabbing her heart every minute of every day until time numbed the gaping wound.
She decided to run.
She understood as she packed her bags that she was being reckless and probably a little stupid. Love tended to do that, especially to girls like Andy who gave and gave and gave and got nothing back. That's what she got for falling in love with a hopeless cause like Miranda Priestly. At the end of the day, Miranda didn't love anyone but her damn self. Maybe Andy thought she'd be Miranda's saving grace. Maybe she thought she could change her. What a fool she'd been.
She checked the clock. The woman to whom she was subletting her apartment was due to arrive any minute, and Andy had a plane to catch. She gave a last glance around the apartment, unable to summon a pang of regret about leaving.
As she reached for the door, a glint of silver on her finger flashed.
The ring.
The ring Miranda had given her. It hadn't been their anniversary or her birthday. It had been a regular Tuesday morning and Miranda had given it to her with her coffee simply because she wanted her to have a constant reminder of her love. Andy sniffed indignantly and, after a momentary struggle, pulled the ring from her finger. She looked around.
She didn't trust leaving it anywhere that might be easily found. She was hurt but not completely devoid of some remnants of sentimentality. Spotting the scraggly-looking fern in the corner of the room, Andy dropped her bag to the floor and crossed the room.
Kneeling, she glanced once more at the ring and a lump formed in her throat. She stared at its smooth, beautiful surface, at the engraved "yours" on the inside of the band. Damn. There were the tears again. She stuck two fingers in the soft, damp soil and created a small pocket. She kissed the ring, dropped it in the hole, and covered it.
"Don't let me go," Andy whispered.
---
Title: Precious Moments
Prompt: Alice's favorite memory of Dana
Fandom: Alice, The L Word
Requested by: burningeden
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 482
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: Wow. I got a little choked up writing this. I was a little nervous about adopting Alice's voice and using her POV, but I hope I managed to pull it off. I hope you like it!
-
Hello dear readers. I thought I'd give being OUTspoken a little rest today and use this blog to talk about something else, something equally (if not more) important to me.
I want to talk about memories.
I know what you're thinking. You're all, "what the frickin' frak, Alice? We want to know the scoop, the juice, the 411 on who's out and proud and who's cowering in the closet!"
I can be your trusty Queer Crusader tomorrow. And I promise, this has nothing to do with the fact that my rainbow cape is at the dry cleaners…
But I digress. You see, it's really important that, in times of adversity when were fighting to better our futures, that we take the time to look back at our pasts.
I remember one specific morning five years ago as if it were yesterday. As if it were happening right now and I were giving you a play-by-play. Dana had just come in from a run and was all sweaty and tired. She smelled like dirt and hard work and let me tell you, that woman rocked that look like nobody's business. Anyway, so I had been working and she took my glasses, put them on, and imitated me. Totally not funny in the moment, because I was all stressed and grumpy, but she made me put away my notebook, smushed my cheeks together, and said, "Life's too short to sit here and sulk over work on a gorgeous Saturday morning." She kissed my nose, gave me my glasses, and tripped over the coffee table.
Kinda spooky how she had that sort of insight, huh? This was way before the breakup or the kindasortastalkingthing or the cancer, and looking back, it's one of the best memories of her that I have. It was just an ordinary day and an ordinary interaction. Nothing special, right?
Wrong. I think that we need to remember those little moments, the ones so subtle that you'd miss them if you blinked. That's what this life is composed of -- precious, tiny moments that we need to stop taking for granted. While we struggle to fight for equality and visibility and everything that can make our lives infinitely better in this country, we have to remember all of the little details that make up the bigger picture. It's not just rallies and bills and actors coming out of the closet. We have to remember what we're fighting for. We're fighting for our lives, for every single precious moment that makes us who we are. We're fighting for women like Dana who have no fight left. We're fighting for you and for me.
Let's give it all we got, eh?
When you get in your beds tonight, remember one ordinary thing about your day. Hold that thought close to you, because that's what makes this life worth living.
Until tomorrow,
Alice Pieszecki
Please comment and let me know what you think, even if you haven't read these fandoms or didn't request these prompts. I'd love to know what you think! (Emma said I should blackmail you all into commenting by saying that people who DO comment will have a better chance of seeing one of their requests in the next posting...I'm not THAT cruel but it might not hurt *winks*)
Fandoms included: The Devil Wears Prada, The L Word, Gilmore Girls, Grey's Anatomy
Requests by: burningeden , mrschimpf , gin781 , ellipsisoveruse , and an anonymous commenter.
Title: The Heart Doctor Reluctantly Wears Prada
Prompt: Callica meets Mirandy
Fandom: Callie/Erica, Grey's Anatomy
Requested by: gin781
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 326
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: I know this may not be exactly what you had in mind, but this was the first idea that popped into my head upon reading this prompt. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!
-
"What are you doing?"
"Uh. Nothing," Callie says, too quickly. "How was your day? Long, huh?" She spins in her computer chair and squares her shoulders, hiding the computer behind her.
"Complications during my last surgery," Erica replies, peeking over Callie's shoulder. "Callie, are you looking at those websites again?"
"What? Oh." Callie blushes. "No! No, not exactly."
"Then what exactly is it?"
Callie glances back at the computer screen, chews nervously at her cheek, and looks back at her lover. "Okay. Hear me out."
"I'm listening." Erica crosses her arms over her chest. Callie, noticing her disapproval, pulls her into her lap.
"So you remember that movie we were watching on tv the other night?"
"The one you insisted was gay when it wasn't?"
"It so was! They check each other out so many times! Even the boyfriend made that comment about how constantly taking calls from her boss made that her real relationship!" Callie winces, realizing that she's not helping her case. She clears her throat. "Anyway, I was a little bored and I stumbled across this website…"
Erica purses her lips but looks at the computer screen anyway. "Stories? You're reading?"
"There's a whole community of people who back up my argument that the women in the movie are totally gay for each other."
"Mmhmm," Erica says, leaning closer to the screen. "I can't help but notice that the only links you've viewed are the porny ones."
"Well," Callie admits sheepishly, "can you blame a girl?"
"You're hopeless."
"You love me anyway."
Erica rolls her eyes. "You're lucky I do. So what are these stories about?"
"Oh, whatever the writer wants, really. They insert the boss and the assistant into a variety of situations and, more often than not, hot lovin' ensues."
Erica surprises them both by laughing. "All right. I'll bite. Why don't you print one out while I shower and then you can read it to me in bed?"
Callie grins.
---
Title: Such Civil War
Prompt: poetry
Fandom: Miranda/Andy, The Devil Wears Prada
Requested by: ellipsisoveruse
Rating: PG
Word Count: 319
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: I reread 154 Shakespeare sonnets until I found the right one, but I only had to get to Sonnet 35 to find THE one. How perfect is this for Mirandy?
-
When Andy had heard through the grapevine that various public figures had lent their voices to a charity CD benefiting a literacy program for Manhattan's underprivileged youth, she stumbled over herself to buy the two-disc set. Rudy Guiliani and Hillary Rodham Clinton had participated and the drop of the former first lady's name had sent her head reeling in a bevy of excitement. It was money well spent and she'd even signed up to volunteer.
She wasted no time in rushing back to her apartment and inserting the first disc into the stereo. She listened to the mayor's introduction, poured herself a glass of wine, and snuggled into the couch.
Each participant recited various poems or read passages from classic novels. An excerpt from Jane Eyre made her downright giddy.
But the giddiness was fleeting. She choked on her wine as a shockingly familiar woman recited, "'Sonnet Thirty-five' by William Shakespeare, read by Miranda Priestly." Andy shot up, sitting ramrod straight on the couch as her former employer's smooth, melodious voice delivered the fourteen line verse of mutual wrong-doing. Andy repeated the track thirteen times, memorizing the slight intonations in Miranda's voice, the silky web of words woven around her body like a constricting bow.
With trembling hands, Andy pulled out the small booklet that accompanied the discs. According to a letter from the program's founder, each participant volunteered and chose his or her own reading selections. Miranda chose this poem, a poem all but addressing a love-hate relationship.
It was devastatingly familiar. It was as if the months since she walked away in Paris had melted away and no longer existed. Andy was being presumptuous in her assumption that Miranda had some sort of grand design in choosing this particular poem for this particular project. It was conceited and probably wrong to think that it had to do with her in any way.
But what if it did?
---
Title: Connections
Prompt: The Chart, distance, vacation
Fandom: Alice/Lorelai, The L Word/Gilmore Girls
Requested by: mrschimpf
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 432
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: Okay, the two of them seem so freakin' perfect for each other that it boggles the mind. I hope you like their little interaction here! I HAD to end it where I did, otherwise I'd have kept going and this would have turned into something that does not fit the definition of a drabble.
-
"Do you have a larger coffee cup than this? A trough maybe? An IV? That hat with the beer holders and the straws? I'll take anything you have. I'm a little desperate here." Lorelai batted her eyelashes.
The woman, who someone had referred to as Kit, sized up the petite brunette and shook her head. "How 'bout I just leave the pot here?"
"I love you. I do. If I weren't done with the whole kid thing, I'd name the next one after you."
Kit laughed. "I best not be scraping you off the floor after you have a caffeine seizure."
"No worries there. I'm immune."
Kit clapped her hand on Lorelai's shoulder and went back to tend to the growing line at the counter. Lorelai, meanwhile, sipped her coffee and closed her eyes as the java soothed her throat. It had been something like three hours since her last cup and upon discovering The Planet, she sought immediate sustenance. It was heaven. It was java heroin and she loved every last drop of it. It helped her feel grounded. It kept her moderately sane after the completely neurotic, impulsive decision to run away to California for the weekend. She needed to get away from exes and inns and a town where everyone knew everyone else's business. She needed to get lost in the crowd for a while.
"You better share the wealth if you're going to hog it here," a blonde woman said, seating herself at Lorelai's table. She smiled as she scratched her arm, drawing Lorelai's attention to the tattoo of stars that curled around her bicep.
"Oh. Sorry," Lorelai replied with a guilty smile.
The woman refilled her mug. "I'm Alice Pieszecki. Of The Chart. You might have heard of me."
Lorelai gave an awkward smile. "I haven't. But in my defense, I'm not from around here. Just visiting."
Alice seemed a little deflated at not being recognized. She hid her fallen smile behind her coffee cup and brushed aside a lock of cropped blonde hair. Lorelai felt a flutter and was momentarily rendered speechless at the sight of her.
"Ah well, can't win 'em all." Alice cocked her head to the side and smiled, the lock of hair falling over her brow again. "Tell me your name and I won't feel too badly about it."
Lorelai grinned and leaned forward. There was something about this woman that she liked immensely. She decided that she didn't mind sharing her coffee or her table or anything else that this woman might ask. She was beginning to like California very much.
---
Title: Running
Prompt: Middle East; "Don't Go" by Fascinoma
Fandom: Miranda/Andy, The Devil Wears Prada
Requested by: Anonymous
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 409
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: Who are you, anonymous requester of this prompt?? Either way, enjoy. You can all hear the song here.
-
Accepting an assignment covering the recent terrorist strikes in Afghanistan seemed more appealing than staying in New York.
Dying as a casualty of war had its advantages over dying of a broken heart. With the war, it was a hell of a lot more likely that it would be over before Andy could even comprehend what had happened. The alternative? Sit at home and endure the pain of a thousand knives stabbing her heart every minute of every day until time numbed the gaping wound.
She decided to run.
She understood as she packed her bags that she was being reckless and probably a little stupid. Love tended to do that, especially to girls like Andy who gave and gave and gave and got nothing back. That's what she got for falling in love with a hopeless cause like Miranda Priestly. At the end of the day, Miranda didn't love anyone but her damn self. Maybe Andy thought she'd be Miranda's saving grace. Maybe she thought she could change her. What a fool she'd been.
She checked the clock. The woman to whom she was subletting her apartment was due to arrive any minute, and Andy had a plane to catch. She gave a last glance around the apartment, unable to summon a pang of regret about leaving.
As she reached for the door, a glint of silver on her finger flashed.
The ring.
The ring Miranda had given her. It hadn't been their anniversary or her birthday. It had been a regular Tuesday morning and Miranda had given it to her with her coffee simply because she wanted her to have a constant reminder of her love. Andy sniffed indignantly and, after a momentary struggle, pulled the ring from her finger. She looked around.
She didn't trust leaving it anywhere that might be easily found. She was hurt but not completely devoid of some remnants of sentimentality. Spotting the scraggly-looking fern in the corner of the room, Andy dropped her bag to the floor and crossed the room.
Kneeling, she glanced once more at the ring and a lump formed in her throat. She stared at its smooth, beautiful surface, at the engraved "yours" on the inside of the band. Damn. There were the tears again. She stuck two fingers in the soft, damp soil and created a small pocket. She kissed the ring, dropped it in the hole, and covered it.
"Don't let me go," Andy whispered.
---
Title: Precious Moments
Prompt: Alice's favorite memory of Dana
Fandom: Alice, The L Word
Requested by: burningeden
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 482
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: Wow. I got a little choked up writing this. I was a little nervous about adopting Alice's voice and using her POV, but I hope I managed to pull it off. I hope you like it!
-
Hello dear readers. I thought I'd give being OUTspoken a little rest today and use this blog to talk about something else, something equally (if not more) important to me.
I want to talk about memories.
I know what you're thinking. You're all, "what the frickin' frak, Alice? We want to know the scoop, the juice, the 411 on who's out and proud and who's cowering in the closet!"
I can be your trusty Queer Crusader tomorrow. And I promise, this has nothing to do with the fact that my rainbow cape is at the dry cleaners…
But I digress. You see, it's really important that, in times of adversity when were fighting to better our futures, that we take the time to look back at our pasts.
I remember one specific morning five years ago as if it were yesterday. As if it were happening right now and I were giving you a play-by-play. Dana had just come in from a run and was all sweaty and tired. She smelled like dirt and hard work and let me tell you, that woman rocked that look like nobody's business. Anyway, so I had been working and she took my glasses, put them on, and imitated me. Totally not funny in the moment, because I was all stressed and grumpy, but she made me put away my notebook, smushed my cheeks together, and said, "Life's too short to sit here and sulk over work on a gorgeous Saturday morning." She kissed my nose, gave me my glasses, and tripped over the coffee table.
Kinda spooky how she had that sort of insight, huh? This was way before the breakup or the kindasortastalkingthing or the cancer, and looking back, it's one of the best memories of her that I have. It was just an ordinary day and an ordinary interaction. Nothing special, right?
Wrong. I think that we need to remember those little moments, the ones so subtle that you'd miss them if you blinked. That's what this life is composed of -- precious, tiny moments that we need to stop taking for granted. While we struggle to fight for equality and visibility and everything that can make our lives infinitely better in this country, we have to remember all of the little details that make up the bigger picture. It's not just rallies and bills and actors coming out of the closet. We have to remember what we're fighting for. We're fighting for our lives, for every single precious moment that makes us who we are. We're fighting for women like Dana who have no fight left. We're fighting for you and for me.
Let's give it all we got, eh?
When you get in your beds tonight, remember one ordinary thing about your day. Hold that thought close to you, because that's what makes this life worth living.
Until tomorrow,
Alice Pieszecki