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Drabble requests
I'm stuck, stuck, stuck on the Van Helsing things.
Time for a kick start.
Give me a fandom and either a character, a pairing, an item, a title, or all of the above. Get a 100-word drabble in return.
No Van Helsing for obvious reasons, and also no CLAMP. Otherwise anything I'm vaguely familiar with is fair go. This includes Coldfire, Underworld, V for Vendetta (comic) and anything up to and including Night Watch (Russian version).
First 10 will get written today.
EDIT: *sweatdrop* 6 requesters so far, 4 of which want pr0n. Um. People?
Time for a kick start.
Give me a fandom and either a character, a pairing, an item, a title, or all of the above. Get a 100-word drabble in return.
No Van Helsing for obvious reasons, and also no CLAMP. Otherwise anything I'm vaguely familiar with is fair go. This includes Coldfire, Underworld, V for Vendetta (comic) and anything up to and including Night Watch (Russian version).
First 10 will get written today.
EDIT: *sweatdrop* 6 requesters so far, 4 of which want pr0n. Um. People?
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SO THE WORLD WILL NEVER FIND YOU
Damien sighed as he pushed through the crowd, taking another drink from a flask of liquor someone had pushed into his hand. At least in the black mask and cloak, even if he did make a fool of himself at the Jaggonath carnival, no-one would be able to tell him apart from every other guy dressed up as a vampire. And a few real vampires, he had no doubt.
He wondered what Gerald would wear. The adept had been reticent about his plans, only setting the meeting place on the outskirts of the city-
Near Karril’s temple, he realised as a woman flung herself into his arms. She was wearing a version of a First Landing uniform, though he was sure the real colonists never had ones that tight.
She kissed him on the mouth. “Praise Karril,” she whispered. “A man is waiting for you, two alleys down. An... urgent matter.”
She laughed shrilly, and as she flung her neck back he saw the imprint of teeth. Not quite Gerald’s type, he thought, too strong, but then he wasn’t Gerald’s usual type either.
He stumbled through the throng of people, found the alley, leaned against a door that opened to rapidly for him to do anything but fall through to the floor.
A chapel of the Church, he realised as he looked around blearily. Closed down temporarily, with a pagan festival roaring through the streets. Yet there were candles burning, and a fresh cloth on the altar.
Something – someone – moving, and he raised his head as he struggled to his feet.
Layers of silk obscuring limbs and body, so that he could no longer remember their past or present look. A broad collar of beaten gold with a pattern of flames. Dark hair instead of light brown, but oh, never mistaken, and now he remembered too clearly.
“I remember you particularly enjoyed that dream.” Even the old mocking cadences were back in Tarrant’s voice. “You will enjoy this better than you would have the masquerade.”
Strong hands pushed Damien against the altar before he could think of fear, revulsion, desire, sacrilege.
“Don’t worry,” the man who had been the Hunter whispered in his ear as clothes were quickly, deftly pushed aside. “I won’t let you think.”
It freed him.
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I didn't say smut, I said smutty. I think this definitely qualifies as smutty. ^___^
Since the bunny proved too tempting for too many people, I'll make it a comm challenge. Can you post it there in the comments section of my post (which is incoming)?
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My Damien has just trotted off and found a private room, thank you :P
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Damien should dream more often. Really. ;-)
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Never mind the VH drabble, you've just made my day^_^
*Ariss reads and giggles*
*Gerald peers over her shoulder and reads. Straightens up and drags a protesting Damien into a room. Damien grabs Ariss and drags her along too*
*Ariss flails and cries for help*
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