Flash Fiction #4
Apr. 4th, 2012 08:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
n_wilkinsonSo I hosted the Torquere Social on Saturday and offered to write some flash fics if they'd give me some prompts. Here are those fics for the curious. Fans might recognize the characters from In Darkness Dwells in the first piece and the characters from The Break of Day in the fourth piece. Also, beware the possible grammatical errors.
For rapidess
Prompt: EliasxMadison (clover, fireworks, moon)
[Characters are from my original fiction In Darkness Dwells]
For pd_singer
Prompt: Gino and Cal (shoelace, slam, tabby cat)
For tucker620
Prompt: Tucker and Louie (guinea pig, video games, bread, front porch, dog)
For kim620
Prompts: Kieran and Azriel, (daisies, tractors, stakes, veggies)
[Characters are from my original fiction The Break of Day]
For ali_wilde
Prompt: Bing and Jeremy (mission, impossible, ghost)
For rapidess
Prompt: EliasxMadison (clover, fireworks, moon)
[Characters are from my original fiction In Darkness Dwells]
His yukata is decorated with clover. Hardly the most masculine of designs but in a strange way, it suits Madison. Takashi. Whatever I feel like calling him tonight.
The smile on his lips is soft, fond, as he watches Haruhi and Kyouya play with their sparklers. Haruhi is more elegant, an artist trying to trace images against the dark sky. Kyouya just likes to watch the colorful sparks spit into the air.
I think about Deidre. She and Haruhi would get along great, perhaps she'd even be able to coax out Haruhi's playful side. And she'd be adorable in a yukata of her own.
I'm wearing a yukata, too. It's a plain dark blue with a simple obi. It is all I'd consent to wearing since Madison had wheedled me into coming along on this family outing. My tennis shoes don't really match but I felt awkward in the metal-lined geta.
“Be careful!” Madison calls as Kyouya gets his face too close to the flaring sparkler.
Kyouya immediately pulls back, the grin on his face unmatched. “Yes, Daddy.”
I snort a laugh and bury it into my sleeve.
Madison looks at me, his father's senses no doubt catching my chuckle. “What?” There's no trace of indignity, but a twinkle of amusement in his eye.
I shake my head, folding my arms into the voluminous sleeves of the yukata. “Nothing.”
“If you say so.” He takes a step closer, bumping me with his shoulder lightly. “I could get you a sparkler if you wanted one.”
I twitch. “Do you want me to call you Daddy, too?”
Even in the dim light provided by the paper lanterns, I can see the red flush spread across Madison's cheeks. He darts a look at his children, but they are oblivious to the grown-up conversation.
“Oh? Did I strike a nerve?” I lower my voice, staring right into his eyes. “Is there something you're not telling me, Madison?”
He swallows thickly, Adam's apple bobbing up and down. “You're impossible.”
“So I'm frequently told.”
The sight and sound of fireworks lighting up the night sky interrupt further attempts at teasing him. My attention is stolen by the bright arcs of color that seem to overwhelm the pale crescent of the moon. Kyouya and Haruhi are also enraptured, the small sparklers completely forgotten.
Madison reaches out, brushes my arm again, and in another world, he might have taken my hand here in front of all and sundry. But it's not to be so in this one. “Thanks for coming,” he says.
An odd, warm flush spreads through me. I suppose, all things considered, this family outing thing isn't so bad.
The smile on his lips is soft, fond, as he watches Haruhi and Kyouya play with their sparklers. Haruhi is more elegant, an artist trying to trace images against the dark sky. Kyouya just likes to watch the colorful sparks spit into the air.
I think about Deidre. She and Haruhi would get along great, perhaps she'd even be able to coax out Haruhi's playful side. And she'd be adorable in a yukata of her own.
I'm wearing a yukata, too. It's a plain dark blue with a simple obi. It is all I'd consent to wearing since Madison had wheedled me into coming along on this family outing. My tennis shoes don't really match but I felt awkward in the metal-lined geta.
“Be careful!” Madison calls as Kyouya gets his face too close to the flaring sparkler.
Kyouya immediately pulls back, the grin on his face unmatched. “Yes, Daddy.”
I snort a laugh and bury it into my sleeve.
Madison looks at me, his father's senses no doubt catching my chuckle. “What?” There's no trace of indignity, but a twinkle of amusement in his eye.
I shake my head, folding my arms into the voluminous sleeves of the yukata. “Nothing.”
“If you say so.” He takes a step closer, bumping me with his shoulder lightly. “I could get you a sparkler if you wanted one.”
I twitch. “Do you want me to call you Daddy, too?”
Even in the dim light provided by the paper lanterns, I can see the red flush spread across Madison's cheeks. He darts a look at his children, but they are oblivious to the grown-up conversation.
“Oh? Did I strike a nerve?” I lower my voice, staring right into his eyes. “Is there something you're not telling me, Madison?”
He swallows thickly, Adam's apple bobbing up and down. “You're impossible.”
“So I'm frequently told.”
The sight and sound of fireworks lighting up the night sky interrupt further attempts at teasing him. My attention is stolen by the bright arcs of color that seem to overwhelm the pale crescent of the moon. Kyouya and Haruhi are also enraptured, the small sparklers completely forgotten.
Madison reaches out, brushes my arm again, and in another world, he might have taken my hand here in front of all and sundry. But it's not to be so in this one. “Thanks for coming,” he says.
An odd, warm flush spreads through me. I suppose, all things considered, this family outing thing isn't so bad.
For pd_singer
Prompt: Gino and Cal (shoelace, slam, tabby cat)
He can't decide which is more embarrassing: tripping on his shoelaces and falling headfirst down the staircase, or landing with a slam on top of his poor cat. Jeeves yowls, offended, and claws his way to freedom, slicing through Cal's shirt and into skin, leaving behind long scratches that bead up drops of blood.
His head hurts, too. And his rump isn't much better. But it's his dignity that's taken the worse of the bruising. His face is aflame and he can't bear to lift his eyes.
A noise, like muffled laughter, drifts from the open doorway. “Have a nice trip?” Gino quips.
Cal rolls his eyes, climbing to his feet with slow, laborious motions. “Ha, ha.”
“Seriously. I knew you liked me but I didn't know you were head over heels.” More noises of stifled chuckling chases after Cal and his offended pride.
He ignores all of it, inspecting the tears in his shirt mournfully. It's his favorite shirt. “I can't believe I admit to associating with you.”
Gino strolls out of the doorway, throwing an arm over Cal's shoulder. “As long as you don't end up down a well.”
“Do you ever stop?”
Nipping at his ear, Gino laughs. “Not if I can help it. C'mon, Cal, that was an epic wipeout. And maybe if you're lucky, I won't make you a Youtube sensation.”
“Thanks for the favor,” Cal replies dryly. “Can I go change now? There's blood on this shirt.”
Gino presses closer, in obvious invitation. “Only if I can help.” He waggles his eyebrows in a motion better suited for old comedies on Nick at Nite reruns.
Some things never change.
His head hurts, too. And his rump isn't much better. But it's his dignity that's taken the worse of the bruising. His face is aflame and he can't bear to lift his eyes.
A noise, like muffled laughter, drifts from the open doorway. “Have a nice trip?” Gino quips.
Cal rolls his eyes, climbing to his feet with slow, laborious motions. “Ha, ha.”
“Seriously. I knew you liked me but I didn't know you were head over heels.” More noises of stifled chuckling chases after Cal and his offended pride.
He ignores all of it, inspecting the tears in his shirt mournfully. It's his favorite shirt. “I can't believe I admit to associating with you.”
Gino strolls out of the doorway, throwing an arm over Cal's shoulder. “As long as you don't end up down a well.”
“Do you ever stop?”
Nipping at his ear, Gino laughs. “Not if I can help it. C'mon, Cal, that was an epic wipeout. And maybe if you're lucky, I won't make you a Youtube sensation.”
“Thanks for the favor,” Cal replies dryly. “Can I go change now? There's blood on this shirt.”
Gino presses closer, in obvious invitation. “Only if I can help.” He waggles his eyebrows in a motion better suited for old comedies on Nick at Nite reruns.
Some things never change.
For tucker620
Prompt: Tucker and Louie (guinea pig, video games, bread, front porch, dog)
The smell of freshly baked cinnamon bread pulls Louie out of sleep, his stomach grumbling with interest. He groans in early-morning sunlight and tumbles out of bed with all the grace of a shuffling zombie, nearly kicking his aging German Shepard. Baxter barely stirs, only giving a huff of annoyance before flopping over and going back to sleep. Must be nice.
Louie heads out of the bedroom, scratching his hands over his head. He sticks his head in the kitchen, but Tucker's nowhere in sight. The oven is putting out waves and waves of heat, however, and he can see the bread pan inside it. Mmm. Breakfast.
Tucker's not in the den either. Louie expects him to be attached to his PS2 but nope. Not here. Louie frowns.
The front door is open, only the screen door keeping out unwanted pests. It's early summer, perfect temperature for sitting outdoors first thing in the morning. It's worth an investigation.
Fighting back a yawn, Louie steps out onto the front porch, where he's assaulted by brighter rays of sunshine, a hint of morning humidity, and the loud rumble of someone mowing their lawn. Oh, and Tucker's here, too.
“Good morning,” his partner says, grinning around a cup of steaming Folger's.
Louie grunts and slumps down into the creaking rocking chair. “Bread? That's new.”
Tucker kicks back, rocking back and forth in his own chair. “I'm trying an experiment. You get to be my guinea pig.”
Experimenting again? This unemployment thing is really getting to Tucker. “Thinking about going into the food industry next?”
“At this point, anything's worth a try.” Tucker grins, full of his ever abundant optimism. “I saved you some coffee.”
It's Louie's turn to grin like a moron. “I love you.” He hauls himself up from the chair, intent on the kitchen.
“It's an experiment, too!” Tucker calls after him.
Louie hesitates, but only for a fraction of a second. Tucker wouldn't poison him. And, well, you live, you learn.
Louie heads out of the bedroom, scratching his hands over his head. He sticks his head in the kitchen, but Tucker's nowhere in sight. The oven is putting out waves and waves of heat, however, and he can see the bread pan inside it. Mmm. Breakfast.
Tucker's not in the den either. Louie expects him to be attached to his PS2 but nope. Not here. Louie frowns.
The front door is open, only the screen door keeping out unwanted pests. It's early summer, perfect temperature for sitting outdoors first thing in the morning. It's worth an investigation.
Fighting back a yawn, Louie steps out onto the front porch, where he's assaulted by brighter rays of sunshine, a hint of morning humidity, and the loud rumble of someone mowing their lawn. Oh, and Tucker's here, too.
“Good morning,” his partner says, grinning around a cup of steaming Folger's.
Louie grunts and slumps down into the creaking rocking chair. “Bread? That's new.”
Tucker kicks back, rocking back and forth in his own chair. “I'm trying an experiment. You get to be my guinea pig.”
Experimenting again? This unemployment thing is really getting to Tucker. “Thinking about going into the food industry next?”
“At this point, anything's worth a try.” Tucker grins, full of his ever abundant optimism. “I saved you some coffee.”
It's Louie's turn to grin like a moron. “I love you.” He hauls himself up from the chair, intent on the kitchen.
“It's an experiment, too!” Tucker calls after him.
Louie hesitates, but only for a fraction of a second. Tucker wouldn't poison him. And, well, you live, you learn.
For kim620
Prompts: Kieran and Azriel, (daisies, tractors, stakes, veggies)
[Characters are from my original fiction The Break of Day]
He opens the front door and gets a nose full of flower petals. Azriel takes a step back and peers around the huge bouquet of daisies, unsurprised to find Kieran standing there with a huge grin on his face, bouncing on the heels of his feet.
“Morning!” Kieran chirps and thrusts the daisies at Azriel again. “I brought these for you.”
Azriel sighs. “Thank you,” he says, and takes the bright, colorful bunch. “Might I ask why?” He steps aside, leaving room for Kieran to come into the house.
Kieran shrugs. “Was passing through Shian. Thought you'd like them. It was either that or a bushel of cucumbers.” He makes a face of distaste.
Azriel might have preferred the cucumbers. “How thoughtful of you.” His lips twitch as he heads for the kitchen, sure that there is a vase to be found somewhere.
“You know me. Always thinking ahead. Speaking of which--” Kieran pauses as he hauls himself up onto a stool, peering hopefully at the cabinet as though Neorah's cookies might magically appear on the table for him. “Did you know that the farmers are still plowing by hand.”
“The poor dears,” Azriel replies dryly. Also, thinking ahead? Never has been Kieran's strong point but he'll let that slide for now.
Kieran props his chin on the palm of his hand, watching Azriel's every move. “It's not efficient. I was thinking... what if they had something that could do the work for them. Some kind of machine.”
“Most farmers aren't magic-users, Kieran. They can't utilize your technology.”
The scientist rolls his eyes but brightens as Azriel pulls out the jar of treats and sets them on the table. “I know that. I've been looking into other possibilities. Steam maybe.”
“Steam.”
“It could work,” Kieran insists.
Azriel lifts a brow. “I seem to remember what happened the last time you worked with steam.” Destroying the ceiling of the Conservatory's audience chamber comes to mind.
“That's not going to happen this time,” Kieran states firmly. “I'd stake my position in the Jeode on it.”
That's actually not very reassuring. Kieran doesn't need to be employed by the Jeode. He would do fine as a personal consultant.
“Besides,” he adds around a mouthful of cookie crumbs. “I meant to do that.”
“So you keep trying to convince me.” Amused, Azriel helps himself to his mother's cooking as well. He figures, from the way Kieran's making himself comfortable, that the scientist is going to be here for a while. Oddly enough, Azriel doesn't mind one bit.
“Morning!” Kieran chirps and thrusts the daisies at Azriel again. “I brought these for you.”
Azriel sighs. “Thank you,” he says, and takes the bright, colorful bunch. “Might I ask why?” He steps aside, leaving room for Kieran to come into the house.
Kieran shrugs. “Was passing through Shian. Thought you'd like them. It was either that or a bushel of cucumbers.” He makes a face of distaste.
Azriel might have preferred the cucumbers. “How thoughtful of you.” His lips twitch as he heads for the kitchen, sure that there is a vase to be found somewhere.
“You know me. Always thinking ahead. Speaking of which--” Kieran pauses as he hauls himself up onto a stool, peering hopefully at the cabinet as though Neorah's cookies might magically appear on the table for him. “Did you know that the farmers are still plowing by hand.”
“The poor dears,” Azriel replies dryly. Also, thinking ahead? Never has been Kieran's strong point but he'll let that slide for now.
Kieran props his chin on the palm of his hand, watching Azriel's every move. “It's not efficient. I was thinking... what if they had something that could do the work for them. Some kind of machine.”
“Most farmers aren't magic-users, Kieran. They can't utilize your technology.”
The scientist rolls his eyes but brightens as Azriel pulls out the jar of treats and sets them on the table. “I know that. I've been looking into other possibilities. Steam maybe.”
“Steam.”
“It could work,” Kieran insists.
Azriel lifts a brow. “I seem to remember what happened the last time you worked with steam.” Destroying the ceiling of the Conservatory's audience chamber comes to mind.
“That's not going to happen this time,” Kieran states firmly. “I'd stake my position in the Jeode on it.”
That's actually not very reassuring. Kieran doesn't need to be employed by the Jeode. He would do fine as a personal consultant.
“Besides,” he adds around a mouthful of cookie crumbs. “I meant to do that.”
“So you keep trying to convince me.” Amused, Azriel helps himself to his mother's cooking as well. He figures, from the way Kieran's making himself comfortable, that the scientist is going to be here for a while. Oddly enough, Azriel doesn't mind one bit.
For ali_wilde
Prompt: Bing and Jeremy (mission, impossible, ghost)
“Your mission,” Jeremy says with a chuckle, never able to keep serious. “Should you choose to accept it, is to sit back and enjoy the ride.”
Bing rolls his eyes. “You spend way too much time watching television.”
“You're ruining the moment.” Jeremy climbs onto the bed beside Bing, dragging a teasing finger down his bare arm. “This is supposed to be sexy and seductive and all that crap.”
“Oh yes,” Bing drawls, “because quoting bad spy movies is the way to get me revved up.”
Jeremy sighs, one of amused exasperation. “You're impossible,” he says, swinging a leg over and perching himself in Bing's lap.
“Practical,” Bing corrects. “I also have better taste than you.”
With a little wiggle of his hips, Jeremy reminds him why they are both currently sprawled across his bed. “Shows what you know. You're dating me, remember? Some might argue you have no taste at all.”
“But we know better.” Smug, Bing tries to encourage Jeremy to return to the original task, though he doesn't have use of his hands at the moment. “Now if you don't mind, I could use a bit of attention here.” He shifts underneath his partner.
Jeremy grins, leaning forward, his hands a ghostly prickle of bare sensation across Bing's abdomen. “I think we both could,” he says, and closes the distance between them, their mouths meeting in a hot, wet kiss.
Mmm. Yes. Bing's favorite conversation here, no words, just lips and tongue. Perfect.
a/n: I promise I'm working on the flash fic from Friday. Real Life is intervening. I shall post them over the month as I write them.
Bing rolls his eyes. “You spend way too much time watching television.”
“You're ruining the moment.” Jeremy climbs onto the bed beside Bing, dragging a teasing finger down his bare arm. “This is supposed to be sexy and seductive and all that crap.”
“Oh yes,” Bing drawls, “because quoting bad spy movies is the way to get me revved up.”
Jeremy sighs, one of amused exasperation. “You're impossible,” he says, swinging a leg over and perching himself in Bing's lap.
“Practical,” Bing corrects. “I also have better taste than you.”
With a little wiggle of his hips, Jeremy reminds him why they are both currently sprawled across his bed. “Shows what you know. You're dating me, remember? Some might argue you have no taste at all.”
“But we know better.” Smug, Bing tries to encourage Jeremy to return to the original task, though he doesn't have use of his hands at the moment. “Now if you don't mind, I could use a bit of attention here.” He shifts underneath his partner.
Jeremy grins, leaning forward, his hands a ghostly prickle of bare sensation across Bing's abdomen. “I think we both could,” he says, and closes the distance between them, their mouths meeting in a hot, wet kiss.
Mmm. Yes. Bing's favorite conversation here, no words, just lips and tongue. Perfect.
a/n: I promise I'm working on the flash fic from Friday. Real Life is intervening. I shall post them over the month as I write them.
