And SPAWNED FROM NOWHERE: Free-for-All Drabbles!

[Fire Griffin]

(Meet the Free-for-All mascot, the cat from "Transmetropolitan." I am not responsible for any geckos eaten, floors wee’d on or kitty vomits left all over the place.)

[/size]

This is the spawn of the original Legends Drabbles topic, which can be found here. Most of this is going to be a rehash of the original rules from the first topic with some alterations, so let’s drill through those first:

Now then, first off, you must be wondering what a drabble is. A drabble is a short snippet of writing, my preference being 300 words or less but it is not required – developed out drabbles are very welcome here too, based off a theme or a word. For example, let's say that that theme was "sickness." You can interpret that word for a snippet in any way, fashion, shape you like in writing, as long as it ties into the sickness theme somehow. They're quite fun and don't take long to write.

The altered rules for this topic:

• Unlike the other topic, this is for ANY FANDOM IMAGINIABLE. It can be anything from any medium. It can even be for original work, although I am looking more for fandom-related things. If you are going to be regularly drabbling original works, collect them and post them on Fiction Press.
  
  
• Put some effort into this! Script and story fiction are both okay here, I suppose. People have their preferences although I personally would like to see more story-type fics. Poetry and other writing styles are very possible – check CrazyNutzo’s example in the original Legends thread.
  
  
• PROOFREAD. I'll be happy to edit your drabble and weed out some grammar booboos. Don't be afraid to PM me if you want a writing mechanics editor.
  
  
• Before you post your drabble, please fill out this form about it beforehand:
  
  Fandom: (In the original Drabbles topic, this was a useless blank. Now here, it’s very, very important. VERY.)
  Title: (Feel free to title this - if you lack one, just put "Untitled." Obviously.)
  Subject: (The theme chosen goes here.)
  Wordcount: (Doesn’t matter too much.)
  Pairing (if applicable): (Any couplings involved? Same fandom, or crosscoupling or *twitch* your original with an existing. Whatever.)
  Rating: (I don't mind R-rated stories and cursing and the like but fab probably does. Use your better judgement.)
  Notes: (Anything additional you would like to say?)
  

That's about it. Now, this is how this is going to work here:

• Themes (can be anything, literally ANYTHING... appropriate.) will be picked out at random by me. If you have a theme suggestion, just PM (not e-mail!) me it (the subject should be "Free-for-All Drabble Theme") and I will take it into consideration. Otherwise, I am going to be the theme chooser from now on since the drabble name list did not work out all that great.
  
  
• Drabble theme sessions last until I feel there are enough stories posted to it You can expect a rough idea of about two weeks. I’m going to be very liberal about time limits since this topic is going through a slow revival.
  
  
• I am laxing the limit; 300 words is the rough idea but not mandatory. You may write less than this but please try to avoid writing more.
  
  
• You may submit as many drabbles as you wish. The more, the better. Just edit your post and add on another drabble until the 10,000 character limit complains.
  
  
• Anyone can join. This is a chance to hone your skills, practice and warm up before you attempt a major fic. Remember that 90% of drabbles lack a plot. These are only snippets!
  
  
• Like all writers, you are subject to constructive criticism! No one is a Shakesphere or Poe or Twain or Dickens overnight, we are all quite aware of that, but some of us wish to set you on the right writing path from what we've learned as writers. Please do not take anything we say in the name of improvement or otherwise personally! However, people flaming or/and being a dumbass in general for no real reason will be dealt with accordingly.
  
  
  
• “Late” drabbles are accepted, just indicate that in the theme on the form above. Off-topic ones are as well but please stick to the theme or that ruins the purpose and fun of thinking on the fly.
  

Our current, and NEW, theme:

Sunrise

Ready, set, write!

[Fire Griffin]

Again, organization would go here. Check the original Legends Drabbles topic to see how this second post functions.

[Edwardo Rocket]

EDIT: WHoops, didn't notice the theme. Sorry, I thought the theme was random, my mistake.

[Fire Griffin]

It's okay! You're welcome to post it regardless - I am going to be organizing drabbles by fandom anyway, I've decided, so it shouldn't be a problem.

OMG A DRABBLE.


Fandom: Hellblazer
Title: The Ghosts Behind Your Eyes
Subject: Sunrise
Wordcount: 653 - Breaking it as usual, even after months of no drabblin'
Pairing (if applicable): John/Some Random Girl, nothing important
Rating: R, for implications of sex (OOH) and a bit of language
Notes: I've been trying to read all two-hundred-something issues of Hellblazer, seeing as I intend to do a project fan thing with it. Cueing the fandom nerd talk, I am up to the Fear Machine arc. Having a basic gist of the character now, I guess I can experiment with writing him. He's an open interpretation character, yet at the same time, a bit complex. A bit imposing to write for, really, but here's a stab. Meet his spook group!




Sunrise.

Soft, yellow beams trickled through the blinds. The rays were warm and inviting, a golden finger inviting all to the new day with a simple, seductive flicker. The smoke twisted and eventually faded away from the cigarette in its familiar dance, John paying no mind as he indulged in his first smoke. His other arm was wrapped around her warm body, soft skin against his own. He could hear her soft breathing, a faint, feminine sigh with each breath. It was almost difficult to listen to. Especially with the twelve pairs of angry, accusing eyes staring him down from the other side of the room:

Anne Marie, once a psychic and then a nun, mutilated by Nergal and killed by the Invunche, he figured. Her ghostly fingers, thin and bony, grasped at the large cross strung around her neck. They resembled claws. Her gaze was that of a kestrel.

Benjamin Cox, a genius with a stutter. Been ages since the Brujeria mess, probably killed by the Invunche too. The bastard still looked about as pathetic as he last remembered him. Made his attempt at looking imposing almost comical.

Frank North, a biker. John figured that the Invunche had taken him too, although that did not stop him from joining in the gang of spirits. He was against the doorway, his arms crossed. Would be a perfect fit with the Village People.

Gary Lester, a musician that had played with him in his punk band, Mucous Membrane. Had a terrible junk habit. Died holding the hunger demon Mnemoth. Currently, he appeared frail, standing there by the hall, his hair stringy and eyes sunken and empty. If only he had listened to his mum, really.

Ray Monde, ran a bric-a-brac shop. Cared for him and others like a grandmother would. Too bad he was beaten down by the Resurrection Crusade. His hands were folded behind him, standing stiffly and erect as he could with a furrowed brow, like a strict teacher disciplining a student.

John was able to face them all, his blue eyes, alive, into the blank grays, dead, as they were scattered about the room. Ignore them. Try to continue with his business of smoking a fresh fag as if he were without a guilty conscience.

But, there was one more, though, that made him avert his gaze. She stood next to the bedside, over the lively, young woman peacefully at rest that was curled up against him. It made him unable to even look down upon her. He could only continue to listen to that rhythmic, feathery breath, to feel that bare skin against his own, to smell the traces of sex on her and the sheets. The sunshine on the walls, buttery and tender, became piss. Patches of watery, yellow dog piss.

Emma. He could not bear to see her face. Not right now.

If he really gave a damn about her... Like he did Emma...

A sick pang in his belly. His partial grip on her tightened for a moment, which she burbled through the stream of sleep, and his arm slid away. He left the bed, exposing himself to the ghosts but he was apathetic, and promptly dressed himself. Walking through Gary, ignoring the cold jolt, he soundlessly stepped out the room to the flat's door. He didn't look back.

John Constantine disappeared into London's red morning.

****

It was late in the afternoon when Toni came to, gentle, summer rain pitter-pattering against the window. Stretching and yawning and rubbing the sleep gunk from her eyes, she found only thrown aside covers and crinkled sheets instead of that alluring, charismatic man. She found him in the pub last night, sitting alone and playing it tough guy. Didn't fool her. They had talked and drank for a bit. A lot of smiling and laughing. The rest was a blur. Worse, she had forgotten his name.

And was somebody smoking?

[thekeet]

FIRST DRABBLE! Woo =D HIII FG.

Fandom: Preacher
Title: Something that starts in ‘re’
Subject: Sunrise
Wordcount: 300
Pairing (if applicable): N/A
Rating: PG
Notes: Preacher is an awesome comic, and Ennis just has to make references to the Pogues everywhere, doesn’t he? Cassidy is also the most awesome vampire ever, I don’t care what you say. Spoilers for the ending of Preacher, especially the fate of Cass.

Of course, it was the first sunrise he’d seen, right and proper, in years. Almost a hundred years, actually, but who’s counting?

Figures that all the supposed vulnerabilities the religious lot thought up of didn’t actually work (garlic, for god’s sake, where was the sense in that?), ‘cept for sunlight. Might’ve stood for something symbolic, like coming out of the darkness, or repentance, or whatnot. (He would’ve added being smitten by the divine grace of God, but seeing as he’d actually met that God on two occasions, well, he’d been taught the error of humanity’s misconceptions.)

It was really the only way he could make it up to Jesse, even if he didn’t know about the coming-back-to-life part (he’d forgotten what it felt like to die, after so long. Coming back always made the darkness between death and living so much emptier. If he was undead before, would that make him dead now?)

And it was the only way he could live with himself, after all he’d done; hitting women, for god’s sake. (Was it a rebirth, or a revival or something else starting in ‘re’?)

Either way, he had a blank palette, a clean slate, a white piece of paper. He was whole, and new, and his eyes, for the first time in decades you could see the white of his eyes.

Sitting in the place where he fell (no, not fell, exploded in a fiery burst of ashes), Proinsias Cassidy had to consider: what was he going to do now?

It was only for the briefest of moments that he considered trying to find Jesse and Tulip again, before Cassidy stood up from his respawn point. Maybe Jesse was right.

He wasn’t going to let the sun gloat, at any rate.

And the skies were blue in America.

[Fire Griffin]

Okay, okay. One more from me. AND IT'S NOT ON TOPIC EITHER. Arf:


Fandom: Hellblazer
Title: Simple Things
Subject: Elsewhere
Wordcount: 663, twice over again!
Pairing (if applicable): John/Some Ditz
Rating: PG -13, for John's naughty mouth
Notes: Subject given by Keet when I poked her for one. At first I was going to do something about a nasty bar, then I realized I had another angle to this...




John Constantine hated the zoo. He hated how the obnoxious children, their parents at their almost complete mercy, screamed whenever something behind the cold bars happened to flick an ear or twitch its leg. He hated the ever-present smell of shit. He hated the high price of the tickets (pounds I had better use for, he bitterly thought). To him, the zoo was nothing more than the last stand of a bygone era, the beasts doomed to a lifetime sentence of being on display to the ignorant, stupid public (they better off in their places) for the crime of being exotic, being attractive, being something that humanity had squelched out of existence in the name of progress. Although anything but an animal lover, he could still taste the prevailing misery in the air, from the frustrated madness of confinement to the defeated lounge, glassy eyes in lands, different, alien worlds, thousands of miles away.

What a place for a bloody date. Already, the animal-obsessed bird he had picked up at the local pub was far ahead, musing over some other wretched creature rolling around or hiding in hopes to evade the strange, gawking, naked creatures that placed them there. John had given up trying to keep up with her. Instead, he found himself stopping at a random cage. A young boy was at the bars, poking at one of the gray, grizzled beasts with a stick.

"Knock it off."

The boy looked up in the direction of John's growl, stuck out his tongue, and ran off without a word. The animal lifted its large, shaggy head and twisted its neck. Somber amber eyes, all the wild drained out of them, momentarily glanced up at him with an almost bored look, yawned, then turned back to the wall of the cage, its rump towards the bars.

"And you're bloody welcome." That should have been his cue to move on.

Still, on a random tangent, John studied it. For a creature that still remained as one of the most fearsome symbols in mankind's subconsciousness, the night monster that was in league with Satan and all of Hell against God's dear, little flock of gullible sheep, the crux of man-beasts that haunted the streets and fields during the full moon, the baying, lonely voice of the wilderness, the wise teacher, totem and brother of the hunt, the origin of the aggressive, yappy, little leg-humper, John Constantine found this bored creature simply this:

It was just a large dog.

A rare, perhaps disturbed, smile from the man. It almost reminded him of himself: A being cloaked behind reputation, a devil to some, a god to others but most importantly, a mysterious figure the general public knew little about. No one considered them as simple creatures no different or supernatural than they. Funny how that reputation destroyed this poor wolf's brethren and left it behind bars without so much as a say in the manner. He almost followed suit.

There was a shine of eyes from the fake cave, the others hiding. All of them had the same drained glaze. Made sense. John's mind was here in London; he belonged in London. The wolf and its hidden inmates were elsewhere, in a dark, green wood doing whatever wolves did. These creatures were no longer welcome in London outside of being spectacles. No longer could they lurk along the outskirts of the villages in hopes of an easy meal when game was slim, their calls drifting through the night air. Long gone were those days. The wolf had no place in this changed world.

"Johnny, come on!" Nature Girl had her knees slightly bent and was patting her thighs, as if she were coxing a frightened, young puppy to come. "We can look at Professor Lupin and his friends later!"

John, turning away from the dreary box of zombie-eyed wolves, irritably trudged over along the path's sickly green line, hoping the sex from this venture would be worth it.

[bluerobotgirl]

I would like to say that I am ready to accept all comments, negative or otherwise. I think I'm over my angsty phase in life. I *think*...

Fandom: Fire Emblem
Title: Poison
Subject: Sunrise
Wordcount: Really short.
Pairing (if applicable): none
Rating: PG (really, it's not that bad.)
Notes: Ehm.... Sorry, I'm obsessing over Fire Emblem right now. And obsessing over the idea of writing something like this. I dunno, I tend to think a lot about how it would feel to have a bad RPG-type status, like, y'know, poison, darkness, silence, etc. (not that FE has all of those, but other games do). I've got too much free time...



"Yes, I'm fine," Eliwood assured Hector. "The arrow barely scratched me." They hadn't taken but a few steps when Eliwood keeled over in the snow, blood oozing from his mouth.

"Obviously not," Hector joked, helping him through the snow toward a safer area to be sick.

"I don't know what-" Eliwood turned away suddenly, coughing and and trying to spit out a mouthful of blood at the same time.


Lying on a blanket and staring at the roof of Merlinus' tent, Eliwood felt like a total quitter. "Can't I go back and fight now?" he asked. "You gave me the antidote."

Pent shook his head. "I'm sorry, but it's safest if you rest until tomorrow morning."

Wonderful, he thought, and resigned himself to waiting for sunrise the next morning.