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slashthedrabble Jan. 28th, 2006 06:49 am)
a-phoenixdragon.livejournal.com posting in slashthedrabble Jan. 28th, 2006 06:49 am)It's that time again!
No, not time to wash your hair, walk the dog, or call that friend you haven't talked to in 10 years.
Tt's Slash the Drabble time! Again! And it's on time!!! Again!
I will no longer hold you in suspense. Here be the goodies (or at least one can hope).
Fandom: Angel
Title: Watching as the Cards Fall
Pairing(s): Angel/Wesley
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Angst, Dark!fic, Reference to a Canon Death
Wordcount: 300
He stood quietly outside of Vale's mansion, looking through the window as the man within struggled for the last breaths of his life; his blood a pool of crimson heat and oily despair that spread too rapidly beneath him.
He watched as Illyria's form melted and shifted, feeling a mild surprise at the change, and what she changed to, knowing all too well that this was one torment in a long list of torments that the man would never breathe to another soul.
He watched as Illyria left him, sure that he was dead, not knowing enough about human anatomy and physiology (not to mention outright stubbornness) to question otherwise.
But he was still alive.
Angel watched, motionless, unwavering, as Wesley fought in vain to hold onto this plane of existence – until finally, finally, the pained, restless movements stilled, and the manse fell into silence once more.
He wondered if his cowardice was what kept him from telling Wes the truth; how he felt about the man, how he wondered what Wes felt about him – even after what they had put each other through.
Though he already knew the answer.
Love, death, betrayal...
Its all a roll of the dice, a turn of the wheel, the luck of the cards.
Now, no one but the Fates knew what was in store. And the deck had been turned against them.
He wondered, and questioned – even as he raised his sword for the final charge, even as somewhere, deep inside, he mourned what was lost, what would never be.
And inside the mansion, Wesley began to breathe.
Fandom: MacGyver
Title: Waiting for the Other Shoe
Pairing(s): MacGyver/Murdoc
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Angst, Dark!fic
Wordcount: 200
The card was very simple.
A business card, standard size – white background, black logo, black text; though it did differ in a few ways.
There was no address, phone number or pager listed on the front, whatsoever. Only a company name, logo and an odd code consisting of just a few letters and numbers emblazoned upon its slick surface.
But, he knew the company. Knew the name. He was familiar with the card and what it represented and that there was only one person in all the world that he had known who would have such a card.
He studied it closely, his hands trembling ever so slightly as he read the message on the back.
His heart raced with fear, elation, horror and sorrow – but now he knew what was in store.
The other shoe had finally dropped.
He tucked the small scrap of paper in his wallet, almost afraid to let it out of his sight – and only after suffering through an evening of Dalton's mother-henning and worried questions, did he dare to pull it back out and fully comprehend the message on it and what it all could mean. He scanned the front again, looking for a clue, any clue – before flipping it around to reread the handwritten passage in tiny, perfect copperplate on the back.
‘Murder Inc.’
85j985m
Have missed you, Love. See you soon!
Murdoc
Fandom: Stargate
Title: No End in Sight
Pairing(s): Daniel/Jack
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Angst, Dark!fic
Wordcount: 500
Daniel watched over him, as dawn rose over the smoky hills, the stench of death and destruction not as pervasive, but still palpable in the chill of the new morning.
Jack was pale, almost gray in the rosy-gold light, but he still lived, stubborn bastard that he was – against all odds and quite a few of Daniel’s hopes as well.
There was still time to tell him, then.
Daniel didn’t know whether to be relieved or frightened by that, and set his mind to other things as he gathered more wood for a fire with which to heat some coffee and a tired looking MRE.
‘Just a little more time.’
For no reason that he could fathom, the sight of the sun breaking over the blasted and twisted field brought immediately to mind a day several years ago. It wasn’t relevant in the slightest, and yet, somehow – it fit.
The Death card.
The Reaper himself riding in over fields much like this, storm clouds trailing in his wake.
He had gone to a Tarot reader, half hopeful that something would come of it, and half skeptical that it was nothing but a hoax; but he came away from that experience shaken, uneasy and yet callously dismissive.
She had frightened him more than he cared to admit. And now, he could see what she had read – it petrified him, and made him curiously angry as well.
He wasn’t ready for that ‘Final Outcome’ – and if he could help it, it would never come to pass.
The future was never set in stone.
But he remembered her words as his gaze wandered over the still, silent fields of horrific death; a field so reminiscent of that card, and all that it represented. Death riding in as a representative of change, sometimes drastic change –
And something always had to end, irrevocably, before a new beginning could happen, didn’t it?
‘This will be the end of your old life.’ She had said, smiling apologetically as he stared at the grim picture on the card. ‘Usually, it is not to be taken literally – but in conjunction with the rest of your reading, it can only mean one thing...’
He had met her eyes then, her steady, sorrowful eyes, the punch to his soul a subtle, but acidic hit that reached out to haunt him now.
‘Death will come. But not for you. I only wish I could say that it would not brush someone that you love, but that is what I see. Death will come for the one you love – and none will stand before Him.’
He shivered now, as he had then, glancing down at the head cradled in his lap, and tried to wish the memory away.
It couldn’t happen, now.
Not to him.
He didn’t even realize he was crying, until the chill wind chased ahead of the sun, carrying the stench of death with it, as the morning moved forward into the unknown day.
Personally, the first two were a bitch, and refused to play nice and cooperate with me - but, here's to hoping they might, actually, maybe rock...
Love, hugs, kisses and angsty thoughts!
Til next time...
Mandy
No, not time to wash your hair, walk the dog, or call that friend you haven't talked to in 10 years.
Tt's Slash the Drabble time! Again! And it's on time!!! Again!
I will no longer hold you in suspense. Here be the goodies (or at least one can hope).
Fandom: Angel
Title: Watching as the Cards Fall
Pairing(s): Angel/Wesley
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Angst, Dark!fic, Reference to a Canon Death
Wordcount: 300
He stood quietly outside of Vale's mansion, looking through the window as the man within struggled for the last breaths of his life; his blood a pool of crimson heat and oily despair that spread too rapidly beneath him.
He watched as Illyria's form melted and shifted, feeling a mild surprise at the change, and what she changed to, knowing all too well that this was one torment in a long list of torments that the man would never breathe to another soul.
He watched as Illyria left him, sure that he was dead, not knowing enough about human anatomy and physiology (not to mention outright stubbornness) to question otherwise.
But he was still alive.
Angel watched, motionless, unwavering, as Wesley fought in vain to hold onto this plane of existence – until finally, finally, the pained, restless movements stilled, and the manse fell into silence once more.
He wondered if his cowardice was what kept him from telling Wes the truth; how he felt about the man, how he wondered what Wes felt about him – even after what they had put each other through.
Though he already knew the answer.
Love, death, betrayal...
Its all a roll of the dice, a turn of the wheel, the luck of the cards.
Now, no one but the Fates knew what was in store. And the deck had been turned against them.
He wondered, and questioned – even as he raised his sword for the final charge, even as somewhere, deep inside, he mourned what was lost, what would never be.
And inside the mansion, Wesley began to breathe.
Fandom: MacGyver
Title: Waiting for the Other Shoe
Pairing(s): MacGyver/Murdoc
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Angst, Dark!fic
Wordcount: 200
The card was very simple.
A business card, standard size – white background, black logo, black text; though it did differ in a few ways.
There was no address, phone number or pager listed on the front, whatsoever. Only a company name, logo and an odd code consisting of just a few letters and numbers emblazoned upon its slick surface.
But, he knew the company. Knew the name. He was familiar with the card and what it represented and that there was only one person in all the world that he had known who would have such a card.
He studied it closely, his hands trembling ever so slightly as he read the message on the back.
His heart raced with fear, elation, horror and sorrow – but now he knew what was in store.
The other shoe had finally dropped.
He tucked the small scrap of paper in his wallet, almost afraid to let it out of his sight – and only after suffering through an evening of Dalton's mother-henning and worried questions, did he dare to pull it back out and fully comprehend the message on it and what it all could mean. He scanned the front again, looking for a clue, any clue – before flipping it around to reread the handwritten passage in tiny, perfect copperplate on the back.
‘Murder Inc.’
85j985m
Have missed you, Love. See you soon!
Murdoc
Fandom: Stargate
Title: No End in Sight
Pairing(s): Daniel/Jack
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Angst, Dark!fic
Wordcount: 500
Daniel watched over him, as dawn rose over the smoky hills, the stench of death and destruction not as pervasive, but still palpable in the chill of the new morning.
Jack was pale, almost gray in the rosy-gold light, but he still lived, stubborn bastard that he was – against all odds and quite a few of Daniel’s hopes as well.
There was still time to tell him, then.
Daniel didn’t know whether to be relieved or frightened by that, and set his mind to other things as he gathered more wood for a fire with which to heat some coffee and a tired looking MRE.
‘Just a little more time.’
For no reason that he could fathom, the sight of the sun breaking over the blasted and twisted field brought immediately to mind a day several years ago. It wasn’t relevant in the slightest, and yet, somehow – it fit.
The Death card.
The Reaper himself riding in over fields much like this, storm clouds trailing in his wake.
He had gone to a Tarot reader, half hopeful that something would come of it, and half skeptical that it was nothing but a hoax; but he came away from that experience shaken, uneasy and yet callously dismissive.
She had frightened him more than he cared to admit. And now, he could see what she had read – it petrified him, and made him curiously angry as well.
He wasn’t ready for that ‘Final Outcome’ – and if he could help it, it would never come to pass.
The future was never set in stone.
But he remembered her words as his gaze wandered over the still, silent fields of horrific death; a field so reminiscent of that card, and all that it represented. Death riding in as a representative of change, sometimes drastic change –
And something always had to end, irrevocably, before a new beginning could happen, didn’t it?
‘This will be the end of your old life.’ She had said, smiling apologetically as he stared at the grim picture on the card. ‘Usually, it is not to be taken literally – but in conjunction with the rest of your reading, it can only mean one thing...’
He had met her eyes then, her steady, sorrowful eyes, the punch to his soul a subtle, but acidic hit that reached out to haunt him now.
‘Death will come. But not for you. I only wish I could say that it would not brush someone that you love, but that is what I see. Death will come for the one you love – and none will stand before Him.’
He shivered now, as he had then, glancing down at the head cradled in his lap, and tried to wish the memory away.
It couldn’t happen, now.
Not to him.
He didn’t even realize he was crying, until the chill wind chased ahead of the sun, carrying the stench of death with it, as the morning moved forward into the unknown day.
Personally, the first two were a bitch, and refused to play nice and cooperate with me - but, here's to hoping they might, actually, maybe rock...
Love, hugs, kisses and angsty thoughts!
Til next time...
Mandy
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From:
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My favourite line: And inside the mansion, Wesley began to breathe…
From:
no subject
Actually, that was MY favorite line, too... And one that was in my head when the story started... Glad you enjoyed!