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slashthedrabble Nov. 20th, 2005 01:44 pm)
a-phoenixdragon.livejournal.com posting in slashthedrabble Nov. 20th, 2005 01:44 pm)Hello again, drabble-slashers! I honestly thought the pen was dry this week - then lo and behold! An extra 24 hours to come up with a coupla goodies (at least, I hope they're goodies, lol!) So here we go again! And remember - no flames as the furnace is working fine, thank you. Raspberries will be filed away for consideration at a later date *VBEG!*.
Fandom: Angel
Title: A Chilling Surprise
Pairing(s): Angel/Wesley
Rating: NC-17 (as always)
Warnings: Dark!fic…That’s all I can say for now
Wordcount: 200
I don’t know what I have come for.
Revenge?
To feel his blood run through my fingers, over my chin? To taste the warm, bitter honey filling my mouth - singing along my tongue?
Or whether it is my consuming desire that drives me. To crush him to me and soothe all the pain away; to clutch him in a death-lock embrace, claim him as my own?
Both of these feelings are so strong. They run together like raindrops on a shattered windowpane – blending, becoming one.
It can be so confusing...
But, oh – how I love to hate him.
How I must hate him – to keep myself sane, to keep it together.
You really should learn to lock your doors and ward your windows, Wes. To put up those simple-yet-effective spells to block out the things that creep and slither in the dark.
What a sweetly dismayed expression your harbor in your eyes, love –
I’m sorry if you weren’t expecting company.
Too bad about that window, though.
Surprise...
Fandom: MacGyver
Title: Letting Go
Pairing(s): MacGyver/Murdoc
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Angst, Darkness, Non-Con Suggested
Wordcount: 400
He didn’t care why he was brought here. Didn’t care about a lot of the things here lately to tell the truth.
His life consisted of an occasional meal, very little sleep and long bouts of terror interlaced with small kindnesses that made him wary - leaving him dry-mouthed with a different, unnamed kind of fear.
All in all, you got used to it, in the end.
So when Murdoc pulled back the curtain covering a one-way mirror, revealing what lay beyond in the next room, he wasn’t what you would call prepared.
But neither was he what you would call surprised, either.
A small flicker of apprehension, a brief flare of something like hope – but no real surprise.
No. The surprise was what was said to him, as he gaped, unmoving, upon the long-missed faces that haunted his dreams and began these nightmares. The two people he had hoped were far, far away from all of this – even though Murdoc had told him otherwise.
Murdoc’s voice was almost a welcome relief as he stood there and looked, and wished for things that he had never dared to wish for in his previous life – that he could go back in time, make a different choice. A selfish wish – a wish unworthy of his friends. So he jumped with relief when that soft, steady voice stopped the churning of his mind; but what was said was sheer vertigo.
‘I want to renegotiate your release.’ A quiet murmur, a splash of sound. ‘I feel no compulsion to kill you. And as you have clearly seen, I have not harmed one hair on either of your friends’ heads. They will be released today. And you -’
His prisoner looked at him in shell-shocked eyes, unable to grasp what was being said.
‘ – I will let you go within 48 hours. Give them some time to adjust, before they find you.’
The chilling grip of panic rose within him, freezing his thoughts, punching the oxygen out of his body.
This announcement was a surprise.
It was a plea for forgiveness; an apology wrapped in horror, a twisted love and the tendrils of a dark misery. A surprise - yes.
But not as surprising as the bone-deep despair that swept through him at the prospect of actually walking away.
How could he walk away?
On the way back to his cell, he promised himself that Murdoc would receive a little surprise all of his own within the next 48 hours.
He smiled as the demons clamored and giggled inside; their excited chatter an agreement, and an approval –
Madness was never very far away.
Fandom: Stargate
Title: A Long Forgotten Moment in Time
Pairing(s): Jack/Other
Rating: R
Warnings: Angst, Dark!fic, Violence, Suggested Non-Con
Wordcount: 400
Dead eyes slid over his, shuttering closed before the door was slammed shut on his screams, his pain and utter helplessness locked firmly behind walls of steel and stone.
Her face.
His dear Lysa.
Her smiling, laughing mouth a twist of airless screams, her flashing eyes, so bright and lively staring up at him in mute horror from the stillness of a photograph; their blank emptiness driving harsh sobs out of the middle of his chest to claw at his throat.
And now it was time for the zenith of surprises that didn’t surprise him anymore.
Having just casually said goodbye to Daniel, he was washing out the coffeepot when the doorbell rang – and on leadened feet he answered, knowing what was on the other side, but unable to ignore it.
That would make it so much worse, you see.
He knew what the surprise was, every time he chose to open this particular box – but he was always just as helpless before the inevitable.
He looked up dazed from his crumpled position on the floor, a trickle of blood from his split lip hindering his speech as he tried to explain –
That he’s just a friend – he’s just Daniel…
And his vision doubled and blurred, as the curved moon of a fist descended upon him, again and again.
Then.
‘I can make what happens to him a nice little surprise for you, my Jonathon – I know how you like surprises.’ A heavy aura of menace and death in that silken tone.
‘Please,’ he mumbled, mouth filled with salt, copper and bitter agony. ‘It’s not what you think! Please -’
Visions of Daniel’s eyes – those warm, dancing eyes – lifeless and dim in a Polaroid freeze-frame.
He had made that mistake once.
He couldn’t do it again.
Resigned to his fate (at least until his torturer was done with him) he removed his clothes, slowly, piece by piece. He did his best to make sure that this man didn’t remember Daniel Jackson and what his presence might mean.
There was a blood-red rose on his nightstand when he woke later that day, eye throbbing, mouth a painful slash of brightness behind his flesh and all he could think; as he crawled brokenly from his bed to the toilet to eject what meager contents were contained within was –
‘He remembered that I love roses. What a lovely surprise...’
Let me know what you think! And I'll catch you all on the flipside!
Mandy
Fandom: Angel
Title: A Chilling Surprise
Pairing(s): Angel/Wesley
Rating: NC-17 (as always)
Warnings: Dark!fic…That’s all I can say for now
Wordcount: 200
I don’t know what I have come for.
Revenge?
To feel his blood run through my fingers, over my chin? To taste the warm, bitter honey filling my mouth - singing along my tongue?
Or whether it is my consuming desire that drives me. To crush him to me and soothe all the pain away; to clutch him in a death-lock embrace, claim him as my own?
Both of these feelings are so strong. They run together like raindrops on a shattered windowpane – blending, becoming one.
It can be so confusing...
But, oh – how I love to hate him.
How I must hate him – to keep myself sane, to keep it together.
You really should learn to lock your doors and ward your windows, Wes. To put up those simple-yet-effective spells to block out the things that creep and slither in the dark.
What a sweetly dismayed expression your harbor in your eyes, love –
I’m sorry if you weren’t expecting company.
Too bad about that window, though.
Surprise...
Fandom: MacGyver
Title: Letting Go
Pairing(s): MacGyver/Murdoc
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Angst, Darkness, Non-Con Suggested
Wordcount: 400
He didn’t care why he was brought here. Didn’t care about a lot of the things here lately to tell the truth.
His life consisted of an occasional meal, very little sleep and long bouts of terror interlaced with small kindnesses that made him wary - leaving him dry-mouthed with a different, unnamed kind of fear.
All in all, you got used to it, in the end.
So when Murdoc pulled back the curtain covering a one-way mirror, revealing what lay beyond in the next room, he wasn’t what you would call prepared.
But neither was he what you would call surprised, either.
A small flicker of apprehension, a brief flare of something like hope – but no real surprise.
No. The surprise was what was said to him, as he gaped, unmoving, upon the long-missed faces that haunted his dreams and began these nightmares. The two people he had hoped were far, far away from all of this – even though Murdoc had told him otherwise.
Murdoc’s voice was almost a welcome relief as he stood there and looked, and wished for things that he had never dared to wish for in his previous life – that he could go back in time, make a different choice. A selfish wish – a wish unworthy of his friends. So he jumped with relief when that soft, steady voice stopped the churning of his mind; but what was said was sheer vertigo.
‘I want to renegotiate your release.’ A quiet murmur, a splash of sound. ‘I feel no compulsion to kill you. And as you have clearly seen, I have not harmed one hair on either of your friends’ heads. They will be released today. And you -’
His prisoner looked at him in shell-shocked eyes, unable to grasp what was being said.
‘ – I will let you go within 48 hours. Give them some time to adjust, before they find you.’
The chilling grip of panic rose within him, freezing his thoughts, punching the oxygen out of his body.
This announcement was a surprise.
It was a plea for forgiveness; an apology wrapped in horror, a twisted love and the tendrils of a dark misery. A surprise - yes.
But not as surprising as the bone-deep despair that swept through him at the prospect of actually walking away.
How could he walk away?
On the way back to his cell, he promised himself that Murdoc would receive a little surprise all of his own within the next 48 hours.
He smiled as the demons clamored and giggled inside; their excited chatter an agreement, and an approval –
Madness was never very far away.
Fandom: Stargate
Title: A Long Forgotten Moment in Time
Pairing(s): Jack/Other
Rating: R
Warnings: Angst, Dark!fic, Violence, Suggested Non-Con
Wordcount: 400
Dead eyes slid over his, shuttering closed before the door was slammed shut on his screams, his pain and utter helplessness locked firmly behind walls of steel and stone.
Her face.
His dear Lysa.
Her smiling, laughing mouth a twist of airless screams, her flashing eyes, so bright and lively staring up at him in mute horror from the stillness of a photograph; their blank emptiness driving harsh sobs out of the middle of his chest to claw at his throat.
And now it was time for the zenith of surprises that didn’t surprise him anymore.
Having just casually said goodbye to Daniel, he was washing out the coffeepot when the doorbell rang – and on leadened feet he answered, knowing what was on the other side, but unable to ignore it.
That would make it so much worse, you see.
He knew what the surprise was, every time he chose to open this particular box – but he was always just as helpless before the inevitable.
He looked up dazed from his crumpled position on the floor, a trickle of blood from his split lip hindering his speech as he tried to explain –
That he’s just a friend – he’s just Daniel…
And his vision doubled and blurred, as the curved moon of a fist descended upon him, again and again.
Then.
‘I can make what happens to him a nice little surprise for you, my Jonathon – I know how you like surprises.’ A heavy aura of menace and death in that silken tone.
‘Please,’ he mumbled, mouth filled with salt, copper and bitter agony. ‘It’s not what you think! Please -’
Visions of Daniel’s eyes – those warm, dancing eyes – lifeless and dim in a Polaroid freeze-frame.
He had made that mistake once.
He couldn’t do it again.
Resigned to his fate (at least until his torturer was done with him) he removed his clothes, slowly, piece by piece. He did his best to make sure that this man didn’t remember Daniel Jackson and what his presence might mean.
There was a blood-red rose on his nightstand when he woke later that day, eye throbbing, mouth a painful slash of brightness behind his flesh and all he could think; as he crawled brokenly from his bed to the toilet to eject what meager contents were contained within was –
‘He remembered that I love roses. What a lovely surprise...’
Let me know what you think! And I'll catch you all on the flipside!
Mandy
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