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why_me_why_not) wrote2006-08-07 11:43 pm
why_me_why_not) wrote2006-08-07 11:43 pm
(no subject)
I come bearing drabbles! They're long overdue! And I still have more that I owe out! But hopefully this'll tide you over...
drabble for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chaeldub
SPN/HP crossover
Shotgun, Slytherin, Wartime
250 words
Draco watched as one of the men he had been following all day got into a shiny black car and drove away, leaving the other standing on the sidewalk in front of the town library. if the information he had received was correct, these were the men he was looking for, and his sources told him that the younger one would be far more approachable. He hoped that was true, because after watching the two of them tkae out an entire pack of werewolves a few states back, he didn't fancy finding himself on the business end of a shotgun.
Draco cautiously approached the library steps, wanting to catch the man before he went inside. "Sam Winchester?"
The man looked at him, surprise quickly fading to suspicion. "I'm sorry; do I know you?" Sam's hand went automatically for where he had his gun concealed, and Draco imagined he was as quick with it as Draco was with his wand. But Draco hadn't walked away from several years of wartime with a weak constitution.
"Not yet," Draco returned amicably. "My name is Draco Malfoy. I'm a liason with the British Ministry of Magic, and I'm currently working with the American Ministry, trying to help sort out some problems that have slipped through the cracks over the past several years. Could I have a few minutes of your time? Perhaps buy you a cup of tea?"
Sam hesitated for a moment before nodding. "A cup of coffee, maybe. You've got five minutes."
ordinary_magic asked me for LotR, Frodo/Sam, trust, fear, pain
I'm kinda out of touch with the whole LotRverse lately, so the characters wouldn't speak to me. So, Jen, here's your drabble and I owe you something better.
"Don't you trust me, Sam?"
"Of course, Master Frodo," Sam answered emphatically. "It's those other two that worry me."
Merry and Pippin didn't realize they were being talked about, or they didn't care. They were chasing one another around the gardens, trampling the flowers and Sam's hard work, sending shocks of pain through Sam's heart with every broken stem and crushed flower.
Sam watched as Frodo was dragged off to dance with a few of the other Hobbits, smiling but unable to dispel the curtain of fear that hung over him, a feeling that soon everything was going to change.
Drabble forgsd82
Sam and Dean, prank, school, vigilante
150 words
Dean pulls a prank and Sam gets punished. Sam thinks it's wrong, but he doesn't say anything because the time for truth has passed.
They've been in one place for far too long, and the fact that Dean can't find anything to hunt in this boring little town just increases his restlessness.
Sam knows a bored Dean is a recipe for disaster, so he really can't claim to be surprised when Dean starts causing trouble at school. However, he is surprised when he hears himself owning up to things he would never do, just to keep Dean out of trouble.
Now Sam's supposed to be grounded, but he's sneaking out of the house once Dad's asleep and slipping quietly through the woods behind the house. He feels a bit like a vigilante, taking matters into his own hands. He knows where Dean likes to go parking, and payback's a bitch.
These rest of these were written forwendy, using prompt words that she gave anael and I stole. SPN fandom, kinda Jess-centric.
250 words for shot glass
"Sam, why is there a shot glass in the medicine cabinet?"
Sam jumped up from putting together the frame for their new bed -- his and Jessica's; they were actually doing this living-together thing -- and joined Jess in the bathroom.
"Long story," he answered, plucking it out of her hand and setting it back in the cabinet.
Jess had already figured out that the "long story" line generally involved Sam's family or his past, and she usually didn't push it because it made Sam less-than-happy, but the smile in his eyes this time spoke of fond memory . So she slid close to Sam and looked up at him. "Tell me."
Sam smiled at her indulgently. "Okay, so it's not a long story. A few years ago, Dean got sick -- just the flu or something, but it made it worse that he's always gotta be so damned stubborn he wouldn't admit he was sick and was refusing to take anything, and Dad was so wrapped up in his own thing he didn't notice. But Dean was practically delirious with fever so we were sitting in the room having a few beers and I poured a does of medicine in a shot glass, told Dean it was something -- I don't even remember what -- and he tossed it back. He didn't speak to me for about a week, but he slept all night and his fever broke, and Dad realized Dean was sick, so it all worked out."
500 words for sweatshirt
It wasn't cold in the apartment, but Jess still felt chilled. Maybe she was just jittery because Sam wasn't there. He was God-knows-where with his brother, and even though she knew Sam was more than capable of taking care of himself, she still felt like there was something wrong.
Calling Sam's cell meant getting the voicemail again and leaving yet another message. She walked into the bedroom and saw the sweatshirt laying on top of the basket she had brought back from the laundrymat earlier that afternoon. She knew it was Sam's favorite and if it hadn't been buried in the clothes hamper when he left, he would have taken it with him.
Jess and Sam had met at a party. For a man his size, Sam had an amazing ability to make himself unnoticable in a crowd, so Jess hadn't even realized he was there until one of the guys at the party had spilled his cup of beer on Jess' shirt. Suddenly Sam was right beside her, spinning quiet, competent lies about Jess being his girlfriend and leading her away. Once they reached a quiet corner of the yard, Sam had offered Jess his hoodie and had even stood guard while she changed in the shadows. In return, she gave him her number and insisted they make plans to meet for coffee so she could return the shirt.
Coffee had stretched from early afternoon to early evening, and Sam had taken her to dinner. Jess hadn't even realized how much time had flown by until it was after midnight. More than that, she had let down her guard and told Sam things she had never intended to share with anyone. There was something special about him, about them, and Jess knew that whatever they had was something worth keeping.
Jess had reluctantly given back the shirt, and when she had asked him about it, Sam had only said that it was his brother's. As they spent more and more time together, Jess compiled tidbits of Sam's past from random things Sam slipped up and mentioned. She came to realize that Sam loved (and missed) his brother and saw him as both a protector and a threat.
Jess did too. He was a threat to her happiness, to the stability of her life with Sam, to her being the most important thing in Sam's life. For a long time, she had harbored a secret fear that he would come and drag Sam back into the mysterious life he had left behind. And he had.
But Jess knew that Sam was safe with Dean, though she wasn't sure why she felt Sam would be in danger in the first place. And she wasn't sure why it still felt like there was something wrong.
Jess picked up the sweatshirt and slipped it on. She knew Sam felt connected to Dean when he wore it, but she felt connected to the both of them, and it made her feel a bit safer.
200 words for picnic table
Jess never realized how accustomed she was to Sam's constant presence until he wasn't there. It wasn't like they usually spent all their time together, but it still felt strange to know that he wouldn't be at the apartment when she got there.
She took the long way home from work, passing through the park. She didn't have a destination in mind, but she still ended up at their spot -- the place Sam had taken her on their third date. The picnic lunch had been old-fashioned and so ridiculously sweet that she knew he was someone worth falling in love with.
When she sat down, her fingers automatically fell on the letters on the table, tracing the familiar "SW + JM". When Sam had carved their initials there, she had teased him, but secretly she was thrilled. Sam loved her. Sometimes, when things got rough or stressed, she would come here and sit in the quiet, tracing over the tangible evidence of what they were, what they meant to Sam.
There were times when she felt Sam was the only thing certain and constant in her life, and it was a comfort knowing Sam would be home sometime tonight.
drabble for
chaeldubSPN/HP crossover
Shotgun, Slytherin, Wartime
250 words
Draco watched as one of the men he had been following all day got into a shiny black car and drove away, leaving the other standing on the sidewalk in front of the town library. if the information he had received was correct, these were the men he was looking for, and his sources told him that the younger one would be far more approachable. He hoped that was true, because after watching the two of them tkae out an entire pack of werewolves a few states back, he didn't fancy finding himself on the business end of a shotgun.
Draco cautiously approached the library steps, wanting to catch the man before he went inside. "Sam Winchester?"
The man looked at him, surprise quickly fading to suspicion. "I'm sorry; do I know you?" Sam's hand went automatically for where he had his gun concealed, and Draco imagined he was as quick with it as Draco was with his wand. But Draco hadn't walked away from several years of wartime with a weak constitution.
"Not yet," Draco returned amicably. "My name is Draco Malfoy. I'm a liason with the British Ministry of Magic, and I'm currently working with the American Ministry, trying to help sort out some problems that have slipped through the cracks over the past several years. Could I have a few minutes of your time? Perhaps buy you a cup of tea?"
Sam hesitated for a moment before nodding. "A cup of coffee, maybe. You've got five minutes."
ordinary_magic asked me for LotR, Frodo/Sam, trust, fear, painI'm kinda out of touch with the whole LotRverse lately, so the characters wouldn't speak to me. So, Jen, here's your drabble and I owe you something better.
"Don't you trust me, Sam?"
"Of course, Master Frodo," Sam answered emphatically. "It's those other two that worry me."
Merry and Pippin didn't realize they were being talked about, or they didn't care. They were chasing one another around the gardens, trampling the flowers and Sam's hard work, sending shocks of pain through Sam's heart with every broken stem and crushed flower.
Sam watched as Frodo was dragged off to dance with a few of the other Hobbits, smiling but unable to dispel the curtain of fear that hung over him, a feeling that soon everything was going to change.
Drabble for
gsd82Sam and Dean, prank, school, vigilante
150 words
Dean pulls a prank and Sam gets punished. Sam thinks it's wrong, but he doesn't say anything because the time for truth has passed.
They've been in one place for far too long, and the fact that Dean can't find anything to hunt in this boring little town just increases his restlessness.
Sam knows a bored Dean is a recipe for disaster, so he really can't claim to be surprised when Dean starts causing trouble at school. However, he is surprised when he hears himself owning up to things he would never do, just to keep Dean out of trouble.
Now Sam's supposed to be grounded, but he's sneaking out of the house once Dad's asleep and slipping quietly through the woods behind the house. He feels a bit like a vigilante, taking matters into his own hands. He knows where Dean likes to go parking, and payback's a bitch.
These rest of these were written for
wendy, using prompt words that she gave anael and I stole. SPN fandom, kinda Jess-centric.250 words for shot glass
"Sam, why is there a shot glass in the medicine cabinet?"
Sam jumped up from putting together the frame for their new bed -- his and Jessica's; they were actually doing this living-together thing -- and joined Jess in the bathroom.
"Long story," he answered, plucking it out of her hand and setting it back in the cabinet.
Jess had already figured out that the "long story" line generally involved Sam's family or his past, and she usually didn't push it because it made Sam less-than-happy, but the smile in his eyes this time spoke of fond memory . So she slid close to Sam and looked up at him. "Tell me."
Sam smiled at her indulgently. "Okay, so it's not a long story. A few years ago, Dean got sick -- just the flu or something, but it made it worse that he's always gotta be so damned stubborn he wouldn't admit he was sick and was refusing to take anything, and Dad was so wrapped up in his own thing he didn't notice. But Dean was practically delirious with fever so we were sitting in the room having a few beers and I poured a does of medicine in a shot glass, told Dean it was something -- I don't even remember what -- and he tossed it back. He didn't speak to me for about a week, but he slept all night and his fever broke, and Dad realized Dean was sick, so it all worked out."
500 words for sweatshirt
It wasn't cold in the apartment, but Jess still felt chilled. Maybe she was just jittery because Sam wasn't there. He was God-knows-where with his brother, and even though she knew Sam was more than capable of taking care of himself, she still felt like there was something wrong.
Calling Sam's cell meant getting the voicemail again and leaving yet another message. She walked into the bedroom and saw the sweatshirt laying on top of the basket she had brought back from the laundrymat earlier that afternoon. She knew it was Sam's favorite and if it hadn't been buried in the clothes hamper when he left, he would have taken it with him.
Jess and Sam had met at a party. For a man his size, Sam had an amazing ability to make himself unnoticable in a crowd, so Jess hadn't even realized he was there until one of the guys at the party had spilled his cup of beer on Jess' shirt. Suddenly Sam was right beside her, spinning quiet, competent lies about Jess being his girlfriend and leading her away. Once they reached a quiet corner of the yard, Sam had offered Jess his hoodie and had even stood guard while she changed in the shadows. In return, she gave him her number and insisted they make plans to meet for coffee so she could return the shirt.
Coffee had stretched from early afternoon to early evening, and Sam had taken her to dinner. Jess hadn't even realized how much time had flown by until it was after midnight. More than that, she had let down her guard and told Sam things she had never intended to share with anyone. There was something special about him, about them, and Jess knew that whatever they had was something worth keeping.
Jess had reluctantly given back the shirt, and when she had asked him about it, Sam had only said that it was his brother's. As they spent more and more time together, Jess compiled tidbits of Sam's past from random things Sam slipped up and mentioned. She came to realize that Sam loved (and missed) his brother and saw him as both a protector and a threat.
Jess did too. He was a threat to her happiness, to the stability of her life with Sam, to her being the most important thing in Sam's life. For a long time, she had harbored a secret fear that he would come and drag Sam back into the mysterious life he had left behind. And he had.
But Jess knew that Sam was safe with Dean, though she wasn't sure why she felt Sam would be in danger in the first place. And she wasn't sure why it still felt like there was something wrong.
Jess picked up the sweatshirt and slipped it on. She knew Sam felt connected to Dean when he wore it, but she felt connected to the both of them, and it made her feel a bit safer.
200 words for picnic table
Jess never realized how accustomed she was to Sam's constant presence until he wasn't there. It wasn't like they usually spent all their time together, but it still felt strange to know that he wouldn't be at the apartment when she got there.
She took the long way home from work, passing through the park. She didn't have a destination in mind, but she still ended up at their spot -- the place Sam had taken her on their third date. The picnic lunch had been old-fashioned and so ridiculously sweet that she knew he was someone worth falling in love with.
When she sat down, her fingers automatically fell on the letters on the table, tracing the familiar "SW + JM". When Sam had carved their initials there, she had teased him, but secretly she was thrilled. Sam loved her. Sometimes, when things got rough or stressed, she would come here and sit in the quiet, tracing over the tangible evidence of what they were, what they meant to Sam.
There were times when she felt Sam was the only thing certain and constant in her life, and it was a comfort knowing Sam would be home sometime tonight.
no subject
I can just imagine Draco sitting down for
teacoffee with Sam, trying to explain muggles, dragons and DE's. Thanks for this, I can see why I like these two fandoms so much *grins* Get your mind out of the gutter, thats ony one of the reasons...no subject
And you. :)
no subject
*snuggles*