Ficlets, various fandoms, ratings up to T,
Sep. 1st, 2019 03:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shallownessNot Always Alike. Tangled, Rapunzel, OFC, drabble, universal. Written for the prompt ‘Any, any, brushing their hair 100 strokes’.
Not Always Alike: shallowness
Rapunzel’s daughter has decided she’s too old for bedtime stories, which are not always edited versions of her mother’s adventures. But Rapunzel insisted that the goodnight kiss remained.
She stares at Eugenia, carefully counting “43…44…45” as she brushes the wavy golden tresses she inherited from Rapunzel herself, along with her curiosity and the shape of her chin.
At 100, it ends.
“What were you doing, love?” Rapunzel asks. Her daughter jumps.
“Oh, I heard that if you brush your hair a hundred strokes, it grows past your hips.”
Rapunzel wonders if she’s been too insistent on the haircutting.
Like You Did Last Summer (When I Was on Vacation). Sky High, ensemble, Double drabble, universal. Summary: What’s made Warren look like that?
Like You Did Last Summer (When I Was on Vacation): shallowness
Warren Peace walks up to the rest of the gang. Layla and Magenta immediately notice that he's uncharacteristically pale. Magenta waves her hands in front of his dazed eyes.
"Are you okay?" Layla asks. "Have you been in the Mad Science lab recently?"
Even the other boys start looking worried as Warren is slow to respond to the girls. Has he been the accidental victim of some horrible experiment?
He opens his mouth and they all freeze, waiting for any word to emerge. If he's capable of talk, that's good, right?
"Principal Powers sent me to the staff room," he croaks. Everyone exchanges a glance, Warren sounds so unlike himself. What's traumatized him? "With a message for Coach Boomer."
He falls silent.
"What happened?" Will asks.
"Yeah, what happened, man?" Zach echoes.
"They were—" Warren pauses and takes a deep breath. None of them have ever seen the pyrokinetic show so much weakness before. It must be monumentally bad. "Nurse Spex, Mr. Medulla, Coach Boomer – they were playing Twister together."
All five teenagers shudder at the disturbing mental image.
Meanwhile, Principal Powers gets impatient, and decides to turn into a comet and make her way to the staff room…
Author’s Note: Written for the prompt ‘Any, any, adults playing children's games (with or without actual children)’.
Never Say There Weren’t Leftovers. Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Drusilla, Darla, 267 words. Teen (gore), pre-series. For the prompt ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Drusilla + author’s choice, Drusilla is her own warning’.
Summary: Darla asks Drusilla if she had a good time. This is about her answer.
Never Say There Weren’t Leftovers: shallowness
Darla is all a-quiver, like she always is after meeting the Master. But her question is pointed like a stake. Drusilla’s seen a few vampires wield a stake in her time.
She ponders the question, asking her doll. "Have I had a good time? Well, I made some new friends. We had a tea party, and I think it went well. Such lovely screaming, and then it got quiet."
There's blood dripping still from the once-white tablecloth down to the wooden floor, there's blood in some cups and saucers - plenty left for Darla if she fancies it. Darla might like to play mother in the empty chair at the head of the table.
"Did the screaming draw any attention?" Darla asks in a controlled voice. She's not thinking about the Master now.
Drusilla giggles.
"The landlord came to enquire about the noise. There was no room for him at the table, so—" she gestures at where his body lies.
"Did he scream?" Darla asks in a more relaxed manner.
Drusilla's eyes glitter.
"Didn't give him any time to," she confides. "Don't pretend you're cross you missed the leaving party. There's some blood left."
"But not much time," Darla complains.
"Tick-tock," Drusilla sings out. "Let me pack. I'll play maid and you can be the lady sipping one last cup of tea before we leave."
Darla sighs, but her eyes betray her, looking at the ruby red blood, perfectly set off by the fine china. It’s not cooled much. Her face changes, and Dru skips off, full of energy now, to play at packing for "mistress".
At this time. Star Trek: Enterprise, Charles ‘Trip’ Tucker III/T’Pol, 283 words. PG. Written for the prompt: any, any, It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time.
Summary: In dire circumstances, Trip engages in a breach of protocol.
At this time: shallowness
T'Pol had been reading out the dropping oxygen levels, her voice remaining unchanged if you didn't listen carefully.
Trip was listening carefully, but it’s getting tougher to do.
It’s quiet apart from their shallow breaths.
She's so close.
Trip reaches out to touch her hand, waiting for her to move it away.
She does not.
Trip touches her, knowing all he knows about Vulcans and touching them, but knowing too all he knows about this particular Vulcan.
Depleted after the gesture, he doesn't turn his head to look at her face, doesn't see her eyelids drop, the only reaction she shows to his gesture.
In a few seconds, his own eyes close.
She is aware of the moment he loses consciousness.
The oxygen deprivation affects T'Pol more slowly. She does not look at the display reading again, neither does she move her hand away from his. His touch was not unpleasant. It is not unpleasant.
The higher functions of her brain shut down.
That is how they are found, seated together, Commander Tucker's fingers resting on Sub-commander T’Pol’s hand, shocking the Vulcan contingent of the rescue party, although they do not show it. The patients are scanned and moved. The connection is broken. Oxygen masks are put on.
They do not die that day.
Tucker comes to to hear a low Vulcan voice ask a question he thinks he understands. At least, he understands 'why' 'he' 'touch' and 'you'.
T'Pol's answer is slow, not because of any deficiency in her recovery, but because she is translating an English saying to Vulcan.
Trip will never ask Hoshi to confirm whether what T'Pol says translates as, "It seemed like a good idea at the time."
I don't always say it, but feedback is always welcomed.
Rapunzel’s daughter has decided she’s too old for bedtime stories, which are not always edited versions of her mother’s adventures. But Rapunzel insisted that the goodnight kiss remained.
She stares at Eugenia, carefully counting “43…44…45” as she brushes the wavy golden tresses she inherited from Rapunzel herself, along with her curiosity and the shape of her chin.
At 100, it ends.
“What were you doing, love?” Rapunzel asks. Her daughter jumps.
“Oh, I heard that if you brush your hair a hundred strokes, it grows past your hips.”
Rapunzel wonders if she’s been too insistent on the haircutting.
Like You Did Last Summer (When I Was on Vacation). Sky High, ensemble, Double drabble, universal. Summary: What’s made Warren look like that?
Warren Peace walks up to the rest of the gang. Layla and Magenta immediately notice that he's uncharacteristically pale. Magenta waves her hands in front of his dazed eyes.
"Are you okay?" Layla asks. "Have you been in the Mad Science lab recently?"
Even the other boys start looking worried as Warren is slow to respond to the girls. Has he been the accidental victim of some horrible experiment?
He opens his mouth and they all freeze, waiting for any word to emerge. If he's capable of talk, that's good, right?
"Principal Powers sent me to the staff room," he croaks. Everyone exchanges a glance, Warren sounds so unlike himself. What's traumatized him? "With a message for Coach Boomer."
He falls silent.
"What happened?" Will asks.
"Yeah, what happened, man?" Zach echoes.
"They were—" Warren pauses and takes a deep breath. None of them have ever seen the pyrokinetic show so much weakness before. It must be monumentally bad. "Nurse Spex, Mr. Medulla, Coach Boomer – they were playing Twister together."
All five teenagers shudder at the disturbing mental image.
Meanwhile, Principal Powers gets impatient, and decides to turn into a comet and make her way to the staff room…
Author’s Note: Written for the prompt ‘Any, any, adults playing children's games (with or without actual children)’.
Never Say There Weren’t Leftovers. Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Drusilla, Darla, 267 words. Teen (gore), pre-series. For the prompt ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Drusilla + author’s choice, Drusilla is her own warning’.
Summary: Darla asks Drusilla if she had a good time. This is about her answer.
Darla is all a-quiver, like she always is after meeting the Master. But her question is pointed like a stake. Drusilla’s seen a few vampires wield a stake in her time.
She ponders the question, asking her doll. "Have I had a good time? Well, I made some new friends. We had a tea party, and I think it went well. Such lovely screaming, and then it got quiet."
There's blood dripping still from the once-white tablecloth down to the wooden floor, there's blood in some cups and saucers - plenty left for Darla if she fancies it. Darla might like to play mother in the empty chair at the head of the table.
"Did the screaming draw any attention?" Darla asks in a controlled voice. She's not thinking about the Master now.
Drusilla giggles.
"The landlord came to enquire about the noise. There was no room for him at the table, so—" she gestures at where his body lies.
"Did he scream?" Darla asks in a more relaxed manner.
Drusilla's eyes glitter.
"Didn't give him any time to," she confides. "Don't pretend you're cross you missed the leaving party. There's some blood left."
"But not much time," Darla complains.
"Tick-tock," Drusilla sings out. "Let me pack. I'll play maid and you can be the lady sipping one last cup of tea before we leave."
Darla sighs, but her eyes betray her, looking at the ruby red blood, perfectly set off by the fine china. It’s not cooled much. Her face changes, and Dru skips off, full of energy now, to play at packing for "mistress".
At this time. Star Trek: Enterprise, Charles ‘Trip’ Tucker III/T’Pol, 283 words. PG. Written for the prompt: any, any, It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time.
Summary: In dire circumstances, Trip engages in a breach of protocol.
T'Pol had been reading out the dropping oxygen levels, her voice remaining unchanged if you didn't listen carefully.
Trip was listening carefully, but it’s getting tougher to do.
It’s quiet apart from their shallow breaths.
She's so close.
Trip reaches out to touch her hand, waiting for her to move it away.
She does not.
Trip touches her, knowing all he knows about Vulcans and touching them, but knowing too all he knows about this particular Vulcan.
Depleted after the gesture, he doesn't turn his head to look at her face, doesn't see her eyelids drop, the only reaction she shows to his gesture.
In a few seconds, his own eyes close.
She is aware of the moment he loses consciousness.
The oxygen deprivation affects T'Pol more slowly. She does not look at the display reading again, neither does she move her hand away from his. His touch was not unpleasant. It is not unpleasant.
The higher functions of her brain shut down.
That is how they are found, seated together, Commander Tucker's fingers resting on Sub-commander T’Pol’s hand, shocking the Vulcan contingent of the rescue party, although they do not show it. The patients are scanned and moved. The connection is broken. Oxygen masks are put on.
They do not die that day.
Tucker comes to to hear a low Vulcan voice ask a question he thinks he understands. At least, he understands 'why' 'he' 'touch' and 'you'.
T'Pol's answer is slow, not because of any deficiency in her recovery, but because she is translating an English saying to Vulcan.
Trip will never ask Hoshi to confirm whether what T'Pol says translates as, "It seemed like a good idea at the time."
I don't always say it, but feedback is always welcomed.
