15minuteficlets: Word 82

Anne (

anadandy) wrote in

15minuteficlets,
@ 2004-11-21 19:57:00

Current mood:

tired

Word 82
Please post a link here to your ficlet, but ficlets in comments are fine as well. If you do write the ficlet on your own page, please put the word behind an lj-cut tag (or hidden in some way), so as not to spoil anyone for the word.

Word for today is: Consumed

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Word #82

irishvampire13
2004-11-21 05:27 pm UTC (link)

Title: 'Spontaneous Consumption'
Author: IV13
Fandom: Original
Rating: G
Sorry if it sucks; fifteen minutes passes faster than I'd have thought, lol!

~*~*~*~*~

'Spontaneous Consumption'

The bags sat there, tempting Coren. Slowly, he reached out for one, licking his lips longingly.

Amanda swatted his hand away. "Leave those alone! Tony just bought them."

"But he bought five friggin' bags, Manda," her roommate reasoned. "He'll never miss one. C'mon; you know you want one."

"No," Amanda said, slapping the back of Coren's still-outstretched hand for emphasis. "I'll fix you some brownies, instead."

But the moment Amanda turned her back, she heard the crinkling of plastic. When she turned back, Coren's mouth was full. "Coren!"

He swallowed, then hastily started talking. "I know, Manda, but Tony's never gonna miss one bag! They were just...too tempting."

"One bag? You opened two!" Amanda gave up and shook her head. "Well," she sighed, "no point in doing things halfway...gimme a bag, and let's split."

Ten minutes later, Tony walked into an empty apartment. "Coren? Amanda?" He looked around, perplexed. Then, he spotted a pile of plastic bags in the garbage can. "Hey! Who ate my Gummi Bears?!"

(Reply to this)

tropes
2004-11-21 05:29 pm UTC (link)

Untitled
author: muffinbutt
Written in about 14 minutes, including the time I spent looking for the Neruda.
Fandom: Good Omens, Milliways Bar -- only makes sense if you read what happened last night

It's odd, this feeling of being alone in a place in which he had spent solitary centuries.

It doesn't quite make sense, really. It's a Monday like any other Monday.

He wouldn't be here, anyway. It doesn't matter, really.

Aziraphael slowly and steadily arranges his books, hands beyond shaking now, 24 hours (fifty-seven minutes, twenty-three seconds, twenty-four, twenty-five) after Crowley walked out of the room at Milliways.

He sits at his counter and drinks his tea, a very strong Earl Grey (no apple tea for a while, he thinks, and has to suppress a giggle which is almost certainly hysterical), and works his way methodically, blindly, through a stack of books, cataloguing them, arranging them, assessing their condition, until his hand pauses with a slight tremor.

Neruda.

He drops the book, and does not hear the crack of the spine as it hits the floor.

I do not love you except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.

He walks briskly to the kitchen, and very carefully places the mug in the sink. His grip on the counter is white-knuckled.

I love you only because it's you the one I love;
I hate you deeply, and hating you
Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you
Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.

He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and fails to shut out the visions of blood and bruises and sex that assail his senses.

Maybe January light will consume
My heart with its cruel
Ray, stealing my key to true calm.

He won't cry anymore; crying won't do any good. Tears change nothing.

In this part of the story I am the one who
Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,
Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood.

Breathing slowly through his nose, he walks back out to the front room and sits down. The books are still waiting to be catalogued, arranged, assessed.

The slim volume of Neruda lies there, its pages flopped open, the spine irreprarably broken, ignored.

(Reply to this) (Thread)

	leatherdykeuk 2004-11-22 02:09 am UTC (link)
	Delicious ficlet. (Reply to this) (Parent)(Thread)

(no subject) -

tropes, 2004-11-22 07:49 am UTC

*pops my metaphorical ficlet cherry*

butitwontbeme
2004-11-21 05:38 pm UTC (link)

Title: Ravenous
Fandom: X-men/Alpha Flight
Words: 528
Summary: He’s always hungry.

        Jean-Paul eats all the time.
        And Walter knows, of course, why he has to. He studied Jean-Paul and his sister’s unique physiologies the moment they joined the team, and was fascinated to discover just how different they are from everyone else. Their metabolisms work at such an accelerated rate that if they were to skip even one meal they would be consumed by their own bodies. He estimates that they need at least four times as many calories as the rest of the team, and they still don’t gain any weight. The twins know this, and they’ve always known this, and it doesn’t seem to bother them. Jean-Paul, at least, doesn’t really care what other people think of them. Aurora is slightly more sensitive. The last time Puck made a comment about it, he was intimately acquainted with Jean-Paul’s left hook.
        But for all his indifference, Jean-Paul still seems weary of the strange looks and snide remarks. Today, he eats away from them, the food he’s in the process of consuming being enough to daunt men twice his size. Walter finds him on the roof, of all places, which must have been far easier for him to reach than Walter. That is, he supposes, a benefit of being able to fly.
        “Hello.”
        Jean-Paul looks up, makes a guttural noise, and continues eating. Walter’s used to their manners (which are terrible) because he’s dined with his girlfriend Aurora frequently. Compared to the ravenous beast she showed him during her menstruation cycle, Jean-Paul looks like a cute, fuzzy kitten.
        Walter sits. He wasn’t quite sure what the etiquette would be for this situation, so he brought only a mug of coffee. “Nice weather.”
        Jean-Paul puts down his food and eyes him. “You came up here to talk about the weather?” he demands in a tone implying he knows that isn’t the reason but whatever it is it’s got to be completely ridiculous anyway.
        “I thought you might like some company.”
        A muttered French “You thought wrong” as Jean-Paul continues to eat. Walter doesn’t really mind, because the fact that he hasn’t been literally pushed off the twenty-story building is testament to the fact that Jean-Paul is secretly pleased.
        He talks quietly while Jean-Paul eats, mostly for his own benefit. Like talking to a brick wall, he supposes, because Jean-Paul is focused on his food with a single-minded intensity that speaks volumes; Walter suspects he skipped breakfast—again. He’s about to run out of normal things to talk about (he spends most of his time in the med bay and he figures Jean-Paul won’t be at all interested in bacteria and viruses) when Jean-Paul finally sighs, lies on his back, and closes his eyes.
        Walter eyes what’s left of the plate. “I don’t see how you can swallow that. Is that ‘mystery meat’?”
        Jean-Paul snorts. “I hold my breath.”
        Tiny smile. “Must have been hungry.”
        Jean-Paul’s head turns only slightly to look at him. Walter can’t pinpoint the look on his face because it’s one that he’s never seen before. Jean-Paul’s moods tend to range from ‘pissed off’ to ‘homicidal’. And then, a quiet, French-tinted voice: “Ouais, I am always hungry.”

(Reply to this) (Thread)

	Re: pops my metaphorical ficlet cherry (Anonymous) 2004-11-23 04:58 am UTC (link)
	Jean-Paul. Was it you, Lulu? You always eated, because she didn't fix you proper meal. (Reply to this) (Parent)(Thread)

Re: *pops my metaphorical ficlet cherry* - (Anonymous), 2004-11-23 05:03 am UTC

so cute you'll need a dental check up

revulo
2004-11-21 06:50 pm UTC (link)

Title: Daydreamin’
Author: Byrdie Fae
Fandom: Original (kinda)
Rating: PG-13 (for odd references)
Time: 25 minutes (I haven’t written in a while and I wanted some semblance of a conclusion here O_o)

Love is a funny thing. It consumes the nerves, rattles the brain, and makes you do stupid stuff.

“It’s a beautiful life, oooh...it’s a beautiful life...oooh...c’mon, Maccie, sing with me!”

“Sorry, hon, not exactly in the mood today,” the freckled blonde grumbled to her best friendk though the sight of him playing with Ringo, C-chan and K-chan all in one little play ground brought a hint of a smile across her face. Only a sweet person like that could get two kittens and a dog to hop around as though they were long lost triplets to Swedish techno.

And only someone like that could get her to stay for this kind of tripe. But, as she’s said time and again, ‘Blossom’ was no ordinary boy.

A boy named ‘Blossom’.

Mackenzie used to ask what was his real name when they were first getting to know each other at the Adult Shop. Every time he would say “Blossom is my real name, silly!” and they would start talking about some new toy that had come in or go have a make out session in the back. And Mac used to feel really weird about it, considering that, yeah, Blossom was a boy. But he didn’t feel like one. His hair was much longer, his skin clearer and smoother, than her—even his voice was higher, it would fool anyone. He was a beautiful boy. There was a word for that somewhere in her brain, but Mac was too caught up in daydreaming about his attribute to think of it. His beauty consumed her.

“Maaaac....? Hello, Maccie...?”

The dazed blonde blinked, caught off guard, and gazed into Blossom’s large brown eyes rather stupidly at first. But he looked worried, so she cut that out. “What’s th’ matter, hon?”

“Well...” (His falsetto was just too cute, Mackenzie almost couldn’t take his worry seriously) “...Tasu’s gonna be home in a few minutes. Sure you wanna stay?”

Oh. Right. The boyfriend. That was the other thing Mac should have felt bad about. Never mind the fact that they were both gay and their own brand of fun on the side was kind of weird, but his boyfriend was the worst in her book. And she in his. Of course...Blossom was trying to go straight (ha ha) and be true to him...so make out sessions had halted. Damn her luck. “That’s okay, I didn’t do nothin’...but I guess...I should take Ringo home, then.”

There were loud meows and barks of protest at Mac’s tone and the sound of the ruddy orange kitten’s name. Blossom looked sad too. “I guess you should...I’m really not in the mood for him arguing today.”

“Alright then. But if you’re going to kiss me off...I want my kiss.” Mac pulled her friend towards her and laid a good one on his lips (softer than hers! Damn! Who was the man here?).

Blossom’s eyes flew open in surprise, then he kissed back and snuggled into her ample chest when it was over. “...you hack, that’s a Golden Girls line.”

“So it is, so it is...but I don’t mean it any less.”

“You’d better go...”

“Yeah...see ya, hon.” Gathering up her mother’s kitten from his play date, Mac left the apartment solemnly, her heart beating like a taiko at Japanese New Year’s. “Can’t believe I did that...” After getting in her car and driving off a few miles and Ringo’s mewls of protest started to subside, she grinned. He’d responded, that means something, right? “Yeah...can’t believe that worked!”

As I said, love is a funny thing, how it consumes your brain like that.

(Reply to this)

happy_daze
2004-11-21 07:08 pm UTC (link)

Unknown
by: me, original

The pain was consuming her... piece by piece, inch by inch, little by little...

She's struggling to hold on. She wants to live the rest of her life, she doesn't want it to end like this.

Yet, at the same time, she's just so tired.

She's so tired of the pain that slowly eats away at her body, her mind, her spirit... she just wants it to end.

But for it to end comes a terrible sacrifice.

She will never know if she'll have children. She'll never know if she'll meet "the one". She'll never know if she did well on that Physics exam or not...

She just won't know.

As the blackness creeped up on her, she took one final breath and let go.

A single tear streaked across her cheek. A single hand came up and wiped it away.

He stood above her bed, the sensation of the room having no ceiling or floor.

"I love you," he whispered to the darkness, to nothing.

And she just won't know.

Time: 6 minutes.

(Reply to this)

	Word 82 starlit_desires 2004-11-21 07:11 pm UTC (link)
	Title: Consumed Author: Sweetness (aaronlisa@gmail.com) Fandom: Buffyverse Rating: PG-13 it can be found here: http://www.livejournal.com/users/starlit_desires/19451.html (Reply to this)

	:) krazysidhe 2004-11-21 07:21 pm UTC (link)
	Title: Reborn Type: Original (In The Shadow Of The Mansion) Rating: R Warnings: malexmale slash (ConstantinexMiguel) (Reply to this)

	My lot in this whole conspiracy... makrothumia 2004-11-21 10:35 pm UTC (link)
	Pastede On Yay Fandom: Original Rating / Warnings: PG-13, because anything lower is weird. No warnings, that I know of. Time & Words: 9 minutes, 214 words Link to Ficlet: Here. (Reply to this)

	jupiterlullaby 2004-11-22 08:01 am UTC (link)
	Mine can be found here. (Reply to this)

	toxictattoo 2004-11-22 10:53 am UTC (link)
	Title: Play Time Author: Jan Series: Peacemaker Kurogane Rating: PG13 for reference to m/m relationship Pairing: Hijikata/Okita (Reply to this)

	clez 2004-11-22 11:46 am UTC (link)
	Title: Everybody's Fool Fandom: LXG Genre: Angst Character: Tom Sawyer Rating: PG Words: 875 Thanks. (Reply to this)

Mine for this week.

cupkeyk
2004-11-22 12:19 pm UTC (link)

His eyes were so blue, they were lasers that pierced through and cleanly, I would have never guessed he was looking at me.
He was dancing and spinning; was consuming and was consumed by the music, fed and nourished by it but because of him the music comes alive. He charged the room with his electricity and everything glowed.
He stopped all of a sudden, and everyone else who was still dancing suddenly looked silly and erratic, as if they should not be dancing at all. It was his singular motion that moved and everything else were just his rippling.
And his eyes so blue, and his ash blonde gray, his skin pale as moonshine, he was brimming with life, albeit one that knows only darkness that hunts in silence and shadow. He pierced a tiny hole through me. He slipped his delicate finger through it letting his smooth fingernail linger along the rims. I unfurl before him, not like a night flower but rather a secret that should have still been kept.
My shirt has come undone.
He placed his hand above my pounding heart and, an inch away, my left nipple ached in jealousy.
“This is the beat.”
And he was dancing again. He was spinning. I love him. I love him. I love him.

(Reply to this) (Thread)

	Re: Mine for this week. irishvampire13 2004-11-22 12:39 pm UTC (link)
	Wow. Very good. I love it. :) (Reply to this) (Parent)(Thread)

Re: Mine for this week. -

cupkeyk, 2004-11-22 12:49 pm UTC

	sayianchild86 2004-11-22 01:48 pm UTC (link)
	Title:Targets Fandom: Dragon Ball Z Genre: Angst Rating: PG Characters: Gohan & Xiea* Words: 176 (Reply to this) (Thread)

	sayianchild86 2004-11-22 01:50 pm UTC (link)
	I have no idea why my links never work properly... http://www.livejournal.com/users/sayianchild86/206599.html#cutid1 (Reply to this) (Parent)(Thread)

(no subject) -

cupkeyk, 2004-11-22 01:58 pm UTC

(no subject) -

sayianchild86, 2004-11-22 02:39 pm UTC

	helsinkibaby 2004-11-22 02:00 pm UTC (link)
	Title: Consumed Fandom: Alias Pairing: Nadia/Vaughn Word Count: 443 Notes: misssimm – All. Your. Fault. Also, this is all you’re getting. Consumed (Reply to this)

original this time

erised1810
2004-11-22 03:55 pm UTC (link)

he is standing near the window, holding a glass of wine in one hand. It isn't a beautiful sight, nothing to be reproduced in a portrait or asculpture, but it's familiar, like coming home again. Tonight he'll sit on the old chair again, folding the paper and looking closely at everything aorund him. He'd observe the cats playing in one corner, he will smile at the kids standing in the kitchen, trying to devide the homemade cake in thick slices. Tonight he'll go to bed again and sleep until it's time to go downstairs again and make toast. Or perhpash he will bake bread this time. He has been fantastic at that, at fixing any kind of meal in fact. But for now he is standing there, sipping his glass of wien and looking at you, as if he expects you to pour one for yourelf. You d on't want to. You're consumed by thoughts of him. Everything he wears gives you memories. That tie you bought for christmas. This was the shirt he wore when last went on holiday together and left the twins with his parents. Those shoes...they are the only ones you haven't seen yet. He must have bought them in Paris. And you wonder why he sudenly bought something for himself. Of course he brought souvenirs, like there always have been. But he shoes are expensive, and warm and comfortable and new. Reasons enough for him not to buy them. But he did.
And then you hear his laugther, which makes you realize you've been staring at the ground, staring at the noses of those shoes and how those feet move back and forth somewhat. He suddenly empties his glass and puts it in the window sill. Then he runs over to you and for the first time in months you're bathed in all the scents that make you think of him. There is a warm kiss on your cheek and two comforting arms holding you close.

"We'll make pancakes togeher," he says softly. You're glad none of the kids hears anything. You wouldn't want any of their joyful cheers to disturb this wonderful moment.

(Reply to this)

ellyrianna
2004-11-22 05:02 pm UTC (link)

Title: Collecting
Author: Ellyrianna
Fandom: Original
Rating: PG, maybe?

First go at this. Maybe I was successful.

---

Max Orren was completely convinced that such spontaneous rides in an airship were going to kill him someday. He decided that the military was just set on trying to make him nauseas and dizzy in one two-hour ride from one huge city to another -- and, to make matters worse, the city that the airship happened to land in was Endri. He knew that he wouldn't be able to get off the hook once he arrived, but that didn't mean he couldn't try to avoid his fate.

When the airship let out and the family of the rest of the military personelle on board swarmed down the runway, Max swiftly charged up the tar strip and let himself be caught up in the roiling tides of people. If there were some way he could get out of the hangar without getting caught, then he was home free; if not, well...he didn't really want to think about that.

Striding purposefully down the marble hall and keeping his white-gloved hands firmly attached to his coat and overnight bag, Max kept his brown eyes focused ahead and was sure that, once he saw the glass doors leading out into the city, he was safe. However, nothing ever went that easy for Commander Max Orren, and he had to suppress the urge to punch in a nearby pillar when Faye White stepped out from behind one of the convenient sculptures decorating the hangar and smirked at him.

"Well, look who's wandered back into this end of the ocean. Not here to visit me, I take it?" she asked, feigning a pout. Her dark eyes, which he refused to call red even though they undoubtedly were, sparkled maliciously, and he took a deep breath to quell all of the possible answers that immediately rose up at this comment.

"Unfortunately for you, no. I have business to take care of," he said curtly, trying to go around her and failing. She stepped in front of him, placing one hand flat against his chest and pushing him back an inch or so. He glared at her, not at all liking the assertive role she'd assumed. "We're in public," he reminded her none too gently.

"Sadly, yes," she said, tracing lines onto the good, expensive fabric of his uniform and circling one of the buttons. "That won't stop me from dragging you out of here and making you force over what you owe me, though -- and you can count on that." The gleam that had momentarily died down in her eyes flashed up again, and he was compelled to look at her as he ran a hand distractedly through his hair.

"I'll give it to you if you'd just keep your mouth shut for a minute," he muttered, digging into his pocket and starting to regret his decision already. If he didn't succumb to her, the price would be far worse than this, but the hungry look she'd picked up as soon as he mentioned that he carried what she wanted made him feel more ill than the airship ride had.

Feeling a little more than hesitant, he slowly pulled the pocketwatch out from the deep recesses of his military-style pockets and pressed the smooth, round instrument into Faye's waiting hand. Her fingers snapped over it once to claim it hers before she retracted them and, digging a bobby pin out of her short hair, bent over it a moment. The engraving on the silver coating was of an alchemic circle, but what was inside of the engraving was what really mattered. The watch was worthless without it, and that was exactly why Faye was so interested in it.

Once she had dug out all of the adamantium dust that had been etched into the engraving, Faye slid her treasure into a small plastic bag, sealed it up, and tucked it down her shirt. Max rolled his eyes, and she grinned, tossing the pocketwatch back to him. He caught it and pocketed it with a sigh; what had once been a priceless artifact given to him by his brother was now a worthless piece of old silver.

Twitching her fingers in what might have been a wave, Faye called "Thanks, love!" before she hurried out of the hangar doors.

(Reply to this)

acerbus_instar
2004-11-22 06:09 pm UTC (link)

Title: His
Fandom: Dragonball Z
Rating: PG-13, I guess.

Let him live.

What a stupid idea. Completely foolish. How could that idiot have suggested it?

Let him live, pah – it would be the end of us all.

The kid’s the defining factor of this battle. The hinge upon which our victory or loss will swing.

And a kid – far from a kid. He’s a killing machine. The king’s little pawn, his right-hand man, stronger than any of us. He’d kill us all. Bulma, Krillin, me, and probably everyone else. They’ll be happy, the two of them – genocidal bastards.

Let him live…

That would be the stupidest thing we’ve ever done. Gathering the dragonballs, that was pretty stupid. But it worked, didn’t it? Tsumoya was our reward for that. And Chi-chi’s life the cost.

But what use is Tsumoya now? As usual, it was all for nothing. Here we are again. Facing a choice: kill him or let him live.

Krillin says let him live. We all say kill him. Majority wins, right?

But I… I can’t get his words out of mind.

A child. His child. You’re going to kill his child? What kind of a monster are you? Listen to Karo – it’s not some fourteen-year-old talking, you daft bastard! It’s him! Listen to him!

No. He was just blinded. Tsumoya confused him, he doesn’t have anything to do with him, just the same features, deceiving us all. He’s wrong. He’s just a little kid. He has no idea! The things that have happened, the things that that demon did, the things that he could do if we let this chance slip by…

We haven’t had any success so far. This is our only chance. If we kill him now, maybe that demon will fall. Maybe the surprise will give us our chance. Maybe Bulma’s new formula will work.

The kid… He’s not a kid. He just looks like one. Deceiving us. He’ll be our end.

No… We can’t let him live. I’ve made this mistake in the past. I’ve let him slip past. But he was just a little kid then. Young, naïve… He never would have known, if I had done it then, quick and simple, he’d just be dead. Why was I so afraid? Terrified of having a little kid’s blood on my hands?

I guess it’s just nature. But I should be used to it. I was a criminal. I’ve killed before. Why should that moment have been any different? Why did my hands have to shake, why’d I walk away?

I have to do it now.

Just have to.

Will I go to Hell if I’m the one to do it? I don’t care. If Piccolo falls, I’m happy. That’s what I can tell myself, that’s what’ll keep my hands steady: If Piccolo falls. If this sword goes down, Piccolo might go down with it.

We can’t let him live.

Never should have let him live.

(Reply to this) (Thread)

	sayianchild86 2004-11-23 12:42 pm UTC (link)
	Where's the KH one? I'd love to read that one too. ^_^ (Reply to this) (Parent)(Thread)

(no subject) -

acerbus_instar, 2004-11-23 12:45 pm UTC

(no subject) -

sayianchild86, 2004-11-23 01:45 pm UTC

(no subject) -

acerbus_instar, 2004-11-23 02:41 pm UTC

	ambrosewulf 2004-11-22 08:59 pm UTC (link)
	Title: Little Earthquakes (Part 2) Author: Dave, DC Fandom: Gravitation Rating: PGish/PG-13 Warnings: Light shouen-ai, Cousin Lovin... Disclaimer: Not mine, I just borrow...and drool over. Word Count: 418 Clicky for Ficcage (Reply to this)

	(Anonymous) 2004-11-23 05:08 am UTC (link)
	She ignored you. (Reply to this)

	(Anonymous) 2004-11-23 05:13 am UTC (link)
	She didn't care at all. (Reply to this)

	sethoz 2004-11-23 10:01 am UTC (link)
	Title: Glamour of the Beast Fandom: LXG Genre: Angst/Dark Character: Mina Harker Rating: PG Words: 854 (Reply to this)

leila_dessler
2004-11-23 10:14 am UTC (link)

Title: Unguarded Moment
Fandom: Witchblade
Genre: Angst/Romance
Character: Ian Nottingham
Rating: PG/PG-13
Words: 369
Time: 11 minutes

UNGUARDED MOMENT

He watched her. All the time he watched her. He could barely take his eyes off her. He wanted her. He shouldn’t want her. He loved her. He wasn’t supposed to love her.
He did though. Every second, deep inside, he loved her. But he wouldn’t allow himself to feel it, or at least he tried. But often he failed. He would look at her as she laid in bed, as she walked down the street, as she ran after her suspect, as she hunted her target, as she defied Irons. He would look at her, and he would fall.
It was impossible not to. It was impossible for him to stop looking at her this way, even though he should, even though it was tearing him apart inside, even though it would kill him slowly, consume him and destroy him.
He loved her. He knew, he knew he had to stop. He just couldn’t.
She was beautiful and wild, a magnificent, powerful woman. She didn’t need the mystical weapon that she carried to give her the fire and strength in her eyes, the determination to bring about justice, the firm, stubborn will that could only be broken by a certain few and only when she deemed them worthy.
She hadn’t deemed him worthy. It stung him, it tore at him, but he lived on and accepted the pain. He was used to pain. Though this pain that she gave him was different, stronger and more lethal than the other forms he had experienced. It stayed with him, like a dagger made of ice that never was pulled out of his chest, merely stayed lodged in.
It was painful, yet he carried it just as she carried the Witchblade. In a strange way, he wanted it. It gave him pain, and he tried to focus on it, tried to remind himself that he would never get anything else from her but the pain.
He tried to make himself realize that loving her would bring nothing but this frozen pain.
Ian Nottingham closed his eyes and turned away from Sara Pezzini, leaving her alone in her apartment, completely unaware of what had happened inside her unseen guardian’s mind.

(Reply to this)

	insanepurin 2004-11-23 04:40 pm UTC (link)
	Title: Precious Obsession Author: Jigglypuff in Blue Ribbons Fandom: Sonic Adventure 2 Genre: Angst/General Rating: G Warnings: None really. Unless you count the first genre. (Reply to this)

	kadinschild 2004-11-23 07:34 pm UTC (link)
	Title: Completed part 2 Rating: G Words: 489 Original Click To Read (Reply to this)

bahahahaha. I've wanted to use this since forever.

tainted4life
2004-11-25 08:48 pm UTC (link)

Title: Sniff Your Creamer First
Fandom: Original (Shadows Duology)
Rating: PG-13
Words: 307

Morning meant soft daylight, which meant premature consciousness.

Vinsett needed coffee. Somehow, he managed to stumble into the kitchen, pull a mug (a pink one, his eyes registered, but his brain was too muzzy to connect pink to feminine) from the cabinet, and pour coffee into it.

Inhaling the aroma of coffee helped to wake him up some. He pulled a tiny spoon from a drawer and opened the refrigerator door. The creamer was right there, in the shelf in the fridge, and he poured some creamer into the spoon, and transferred the contents of the spoon to the mug.

A sip later and he jolted awake. If you could call his muzzy, wordless state awake. More like... physically aware.

Very physically aware.

I think.... I think... But it was hard to think. He kept trying to come up with words, and he couldn't. In fact, his brain seemed to have gone very, very fuzzy.

"The coffee..." He rasped. "...The coffee..."

The coffee tasted rather strange.

He took another sip. It didn't help clear his fuzzy brain. In fact, it made things worse.

Much worse.

But he didn't mind. He was rather busy trying to identify the new feeling that had consumed him. His body recognized it. It throbbed with it.

A word!

Lust? He wondered. He looked at the open bottle of creamer in his hand, sniffed it. Goat's milk? Just what the hell has been done to my creamer?!

And then Bellatrix walked in.

That was a nice flush on her face, he thought.

"Oh Zintzne, Vinsett, you drank the expiriment! Didn't you hear me warn you last night that your creamer had been moved to the tupperwear dish?"

"Expiriment? Warning?"

"...That's orchid root boiled in goat's milk, Vinsett! It's supposed to be an aphrodisiac."

That, he thought, would explain a hell of a lot.

(Reply to this) (Thread)

	Re: bahahahaha. I've wanted to use this since forever. irishvampire13 2004-11-25 10:56 pm UTC (link)
	~~That, he thought, would explain a hell of a lot.~~ Very fun! (Reply to this) (Parent)

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