Drabbles!
Yes, I finally got around to doing them. Be quiet. At least you got them at all. *muttermumble*
For nscangal, who requested Good Omens:
Pollution looked at Famine.
Famine looked at Pollution.
They both looked at the red-haired woman sitting cross-legged on the grass, who had been strumming a guitar and was now looking sheepish. It wasn't a good look on her.
"Honestly, isn't that a little... ironic?" said Famine, lifting an eyebrow.
"I can explain," said War.
Pollution snickered. "This ought to be good."
"Shut up and let me." War threw him a glare. "I'm spreading discord among the civilians. They thought it was bad when their soldiers got sent off to die in a pointless war, well, wait 'til they start sniping at each other as well." There was more than an edge of gloat to her voice.
"Still.. protest songs? You?"
"I am exploiting a niche," War said haughtily.
"What if it backfires?" Famine asked.
"Trust me," said War, "it won't."
For festegurl92101, who had a specific GO request:
"This is ridiculous," Crowley muttered, drumming his fingers on the Bentley's wheel. Leave it to the angel to mess up a routine that they had been going through for eons by giving it a bloody qualifier. Suddenly, 'Crowley and Aziraphale going out drinking' had become 'Crowley and Aziraphale going on a date.' A date. Crowley did not do dates, especially not with suddenly romantic-minded angels. But Aziraphale, bless his eternal soul, had turned the Eyes on him, and he had found himself agreeing.
"What was that, dear?" asked Aziraphale, blinking at him with those same damn innocent eyes.
"Nothing," said Crowley, "let's put on some music." Jazz. Just the thing. He slipped the tape in, and the familiar strains played of Duke Ellington's 'You're My Best Friend.'
Oh, bugger, thought Crowley, even as he pulled over to the side of the abandoned road.
As it transpired, they didn't pay attention to the words anyway.
gundamkiwi ordered a side of Guideslash:
Arthur Dent was having a comparatively good day, for a day spent on the Heart of Gold. He hadn't been woken up by anything unpleasant happening to him, the last planet they had stopped on- wonder of wonders- had had tea, and the universe in general had apparently decided to leave him alone.
Until he walked onto the bridge.
"Trillian could settle it," Ford was saying, waving a half-full glass.
"Trillian isn't settling anything," said Zaphod, a slight frown on one of his heads. The other head was staring at his own glass. It was empty. "That would involve you asking her."
"Let's ask Arthur, then. Who's better in bed, me or Zaphod?"
Arthur nearly dropped his teacup. "I don't- what- I never-"
"What, Monkeyman, you don't remember that party on Aldebaran V?" Both of Zaphod's faces broke into a wicked grin.
"No- I- what?"
"Chill out, Earth dude, I'm just messing with your head."
"You're so cute when you're freaked out," Ford snickered.
"I give up," Arthur muttered, retreating with his tea.
Ford excused himself and jogged after him. "Arthur, wait!"
"What now?" said Arthur, suspiciously.
"It's me," said Ford, seizing Arthur's wrist and dragging him down the corridor, "and I can prove it."
The teacup smashed on the floor.
For elcalion, a bit of Discworldy goodness- three out of four ain't bad:
There were three people in the Library at Unseen University.
Well... for a given value of 'people,' anyway.
"This is.. unusual," said one of the two who were clothed all in black.
YES, said the other.
"The Rite of Ashk'Ente, right?"
"Ook," said the third. In one long-fingered hand he clutched a few bits of wood pieced together in the shape of an ankh.
"I mean. I know these days it's not certain which one of us you'll get-"
-BUT IS IT REALLY NECESSARY TO SUMMON BOTH OF US?
"Oook," the Librarian said. "Ook, ook, eeek."
I SEE, said Death.
"You told the Watch?"
"Ook."
Susan shrugged. "I'm not doing anything else, and this sounds like it may be important."
SINCE WE'RE HERE ANYWAY...
"Oook," said the Librarian, and ambled off. Susan and Death followed him down the endless rows of shelves.
And for __raingarden, who loves her some HP:
It was almost too easy to join the pack. He had expected his senses to rebel at the blood, the slaughter, the savage simplicity that up until then he had escaped. He had expected more of an inner struggle than he had had.
Without the Wolfsbane Potion, it was almost too easy to change. The hunt was almost.. organized. Werewolves were worse than regular wolves, because they still retained a cruelty that was fundamentally human. He had expected to hate himself more afterwards than he did.
Once, in the middle of the running, a low-hanging branch for a second looked like the horns of a stag. With a second's change in perspective, it was gone. Once, out of the corner of his eye, the wolf running next to him looked bigger and blacker. He turned his head briefly and saw just another wolf. Once they caught a rat. It wasn't even worth killing. It scampered away and hid.
It was almost too easy.
There! *dusts off hands* Hope they satisfy!
I'll kick myself later for saying this, but there are still five slots open..
For nscangal, who requested Good Omens:
Pollution looked at Famine.
Famine looked at Pollution.
They both looked at the red-haired woman sitting cross-legged on the grass, who had been strumming a guitar and was now looking sheepish. It wasn't a good look on her.
"Honestly, isn't that a little... ironic?" said Famine, lifting an eyebrow.
"I can explain," said War.
Pollution snickered. "This ought to be good."
"Shut up and let me." War threw him a glare. "I'm spreading discord among the civilians. They thought it was bad when their soldiers got sent off to die in a pointless war, well, wait 'til they start sniping at each other as well." There was more than an edge of gloat to her voice.
"Still.. protest songs? You?"
"I am exploiting a niche," War said haughtily.
"What if it backfires?" Famine asked.
"Trust me," said War, "it won't."
For festegurl92101, who had a specific GO request:
"This is ridiculous," Crowley muttered, drumming his fingers on the Bentley's wheel. Leave it to the angel to mess up a routine that they had been going through for eons by giving it a bloody qualifier. Suddenly, 'Crowley and Aziraphale going out drinking' had become 'Crowley and Aziraphale going on a date.' A date. Crowley did not do dates, especially not with suddenly romantic-minded angels. But Aziraphale, bless his eternal soul, had turned the Eyes on him, and he had found himself agreeing.
"What was that, dear?" asked Aziraphale, blinking at him with those same damn innocent eyes.
"Nothing," said Crowley, "let's put on some music." Jazz. Just the thing. He slipped the tape in, and the familiar strains played of Duke Ellington's 'You're My Best Friend.'
Oh, bugger, thought Crowley, even as he pulled over to the side of the abandoned road.
As it transpired, they didn't pay attention to the words anyway.
gundamkiwi ordered a side of Guideslash:
Arthur Dent was having a comparatively good day, for a day spent on the Heart of Gold. He hadn't been woken up by anything unpleasant happening to him, the last planet they had stopped on- wonder of wonders- had had tea, and the universe in general had apparently decided to leave him alone.
Until he walked onto the bridge.
"Trillian could settle it," Ford was saying, waving a half-full glass.
"Trillian isn't settling anything," said Zaphod, a slight frown on one of his heads. The other head was staring at his own glass. It was empty. "That would involve you asking her."
"Let's ask Arthur, then. Who's better in bed, me or Zaphod?"
Arthur nearly dropped his teacup. "I don't- what- I never-"
"What, Monkeyman, you don't remember that party on Aldebaran V?" Both of Zaphod's faces broke into a wicked grin.
"No- I- what?"
"Chill out, Earth dude, I'm just messing with your head."
"You're so cute when you're freaked out," Ford snickered.
"I give up," Arthur muttered, retreating with his tea.
Ford excused himself and jogged after him. "Arthur, wait!"
"What now?" said Arthur, suspiciously.
"It's me," said Ford, seizing Arthur's wrist and dragging him down the corridor, "and I can prove it."
The teacup smashed on the floor.
For elcalion, a bit of Discworldy goodness- three out of four ain't bad:
There were three people in the Library at Unseen University.
Well... for a given value of 'people,' anyway.
"This is.. unusual," said one of the two who were clothed all in black.
YES, said the other.
"The Rite of Ashk'Ente, right?"
"Ook," said the third. In one long-fingered hand he clutched a few bits of wood pieced together in the shape of an ankh.
"I mean. I know these days it's not certain which one of us you'll get-"
-BUT IS IT REALLY NECESSARY TO SUMMON BOTH OF US?
"Oook," the Librarian said. "Ook, ook, eeek."
I SEE, said Death.
"You told the Watch?"
"Ook."
Susan shrugged. "I'm not doing anything else, and this sounds like it may be important."
SINCE WE'RE HERE ANYWAY...
"Oook," said the Librarian, and ambled off. Susan and Death followed him down the endless rows of shelves.
And for __raingarden, who loves her some HP:
It was almost too easy to join the pack. He had expected his senses to rebel at the blood, the slaughter, the savage simplicity that up until then he had escaped. He had expected more of an inner struggle than he had had.
Without the Wolfsbane Potion, it was almost too easy to change. The hunt was almost.. organized. Werewolves were worse than regular wolves, because they still retained a cruelty that was fundamentally human. He had expected to hate himself more afterwards than he did.
Once, in the middle of the running, a low-hanging branch for a second looked like the horns of a stag. With a second's change in perspective, it was gone. Once, out of the corner of his eye, the wolf running next to him looked bigger and blacker. He turned his head briefly and saw just another wolf. Once they caught a rat. It wasn't even worth killing. It scampered away and hid.
It was almost too easy.
There! *dusts off hands* Hope they satisfy!
I'll kick myself later for saying this, but there are still five slots open..